#this is definitely what i assumed this line meant

[yasu-1234]

friends with benefits with gojo satoru.

pairing: gojo satoru x afab reader words: 5,100 contains: oral sex, squirting, pronebone, choking, and gojo being unserious. mood: playful, sexy, sincere. author’s note: thank you for the kind reaction to lazy sunday morning 🙇‍♀️

You squint at him as you take in his request, wondering if he’s just messing with you as usual. You’re sitting next to him in your apartment unit; the balls of your feet digging on the edge of your couch as you slurp on a cup of boba tea.

“Dude. That’s not funny,” you manage to reply after a long, confused silence. “Like, I know it’s fun when we mess with each other but isn’t this a bit out of line?”

He scoffs dramatically. “I’m serious! Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Honestly? I can’t always tell,” you reply. “Kinda feels like everything is a joke to you sometimes.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m asking you nicely here. Do you wanna do it? With me?”

You open your mouth to respond, but then you realize you don't even know what to say.

Satoru scoots closer to you and leans forward, looking at you from above his sunglasses, his voice dropping into his teacher tone as he explains.

“Look, okay?” he starts. “We’ve been teasing and flirting with each other since the day we met. And I know it’s all jokes but still, there’s obviously some chemistry here. Not to mention that you're fucking hot. And I know you think that I’m hot too. Plus, all your Tinder matches are assholes. And I don’t even have the time to date or meet new people. So you and I are like, our most logical, convenient choice here.”

You huff and smile in disbelief. “Did you just assume that I think you’re hot? Someone’s a little cocky.”

“Come on. You have eyes. Get with the program.”

Your eyes cast a flickering gaze over his body, taking in the chiseled contours of his muscles underneath his– Oh. Ohhh. So that’s why he came wearing a compression shirt. And sweatpants. On a Friday evening. With your favorite cup of boba tea. He shoots you an impish grin as you shake your head at him and set his bribe down the coffee table.

“Fine,” you say. “I won’t deny that we’re kinda, sorta, maybe, compatible. But here’s the thing. I like our friendship the way it is. Why complicate it with some dumb, meaningless sex?”

“No, no, no. But it’s not gonna be dumb and meaningless,” he replies. “Cause it’s you.”

His words snare you speechless, your cheeks flushing red.

“Wait. Dude, what do you mean by that?” You stammer, laughing awkwardly.

“I’m saying I care about you and you mean something to me. If there’s anyone I’d wanna fuck on the regular, it’s you.”

“Satoru!” You lean away. “You really don’t have a filter do you?”

“I’m just being candid here! I trust you.”

He scoots even closer to you, holding you by the forearms. “And you trust me too, right? I promise I don’t wanna hurt you and I’m not playing tricks. I’m just asking.”

“And am I the first person you asked?”

“You’re the only person I’m gonna ask. If you say no, my dick is gonna concave. It’s over,” he replies.

You laugh at his words, and he laughs from the pleasure of making you laugh. Then his smile melts into an unwavering gaze, his eyes soft and sincere, pleading like a touch-starved cat.

“But seriously,” he continues, his fingertips graze your neck. “I meant what I said. You mean something to me. I don’t wanna hookup with some random stranger or a girlfriend who might break up with me. It has to be you, okay? I just know that whatever it is that we have it’s definitely gonna last. Whether it’s friendship or… something else. Something more. I don’t know.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch, “Your logic is so weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you.”

You huff and smile. And then your gaze falls down to his lips. Soft, glossy, and inviting. The air is suddenly warm and still. And the silence between you grows heavy and pensive. With the shared understanding that you are sitting with him on the edge of a crumbling threshold. You look back into his eyes and notice that he’s looking at your lips too. His breathing becomes shallow and heavy with longing.

“What if we just kiss and see where it goes?” you ask.

He swallows hard, his lips parting, “Yeah…”

Satoru takes off his sunglasses and you lean towards each other. Slowly. Seeking reassurance, offering permission, with every inch of space you close between yourselves. At some point, his eyelids fall shut. His silver lashes flutter as he moves closer and closer. You can smell his sweet breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and the firmness of his thumb against your cheek.

You close your eyes and press your lips against his, softly, then with a swift gradation of hunger as Satoru grabs the back of your neck, pulling you against him, deepening the kiss.

“Mmnh… ” You hear a soft hum of pleasure from deep in his chest.

His lips feel soft like rose petals, puckering and relaxing as he relishes the feeling of your lips against his. He’s kissing you. You’re kissing him back. And you start laughing against his lips as reality cuts through that fog. He pulls back, surprised by your reaction.

“What?” he asks, laughing now too. “Don’t tell me I suck.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you reply. “It’s just—I can’t believe I’m kissing my friend. On the mouth.”

He smirks, “You wanna kiss something else?”

You smack his shoulder, blushing and laughing, “Shut up!”

“Hey, I was quiet,” he yells, gesturing to himself now. “You’re the one who started laughing!”

“Okay, fine! I’m sorry! I just couldn’t take it seriously.”

“We never really took anything seriously. That’s what makes it so fun,” He says, placing his hands on your waist. “I like that we can laugh about everything. Even things like this.”

You smile, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

You lean towards each other and kiss once again. This time, you part your lips, and his tongue swipes softly against yours, gentle yet demanding, coating your mouth with a sweet, buttery taste. His hands are warm as it rests on your collarbones. And you feel his fingers crawl upwards to the back of your neck, grabbing you by the scalp to hold your head still.

The rest of the world starts to sway and melt into open water. And you cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. You break the kiss to gasp for some air, hoping to feel solid ground again. While Satoru presses his forehead against yours. His eyes shut and his lips trembling, hoping you would let him taste you again.

“We’re gonna keep going aren’t we…” you whisper, breathlessly.

“Hell yeah,” he whispers back.

His hands slide under your thighs and he pulls you to his lap. You lean down to kiss him once again. Satoru moans and grabs your hips to press you down to his crotch, craving some pressure against his aching, hardening cock.

“I just… need your weight… right here…” he mutters in between kisses. His hips press upwards to meet you, and you gasp as you feel his thick girth squeeze and rub between your legs. Shuddering as you wonder how he’ll cram all that cock inside of you.

“You feel that? That’s your fault,” he hisses, sighing in relief.

“Aww, are you that pent up?” You tease as you start rocking across his length, following the slow rhythm of his hips.

“You know it… It’s been a while.”

A strangled sound leaves his throat and his head hangs back from the couch as you grind on him. His eyes shut and his lips parted in relief. He grabs you firmly by the backside, keeping you pressed against him.

A moment later, Satoru tilts his head back up to look at you with a hazy gaze and notices your stiff nipples underneath your oversized shirt. He leans forward and nips at one of your buds with his teeth.

You yelp at the sudden prick of pain, “What the fuck!”

You recoil and cover your chest with your hands.

“Hehe, I've always wanted to do that,” he says. He takes your wrists and pries them away from your chest, holding them tightly behind your back with a single, large fist. “You never wear a bra when I’m coming over. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or were you hoping that I would?”

“It’s my apartment. I would’ve worn a bra if I knew you were gawking,” you retort.

He leans to press his lips softly on your breast, soothing the sting in your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. You sigh and bite your lip.

“You’re not answering my question,” he says, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So maybe I’ll just think however I want. And I think you wanted me to see it.”

Satoru starts kissing the base of your neck as his hand disappears under your shirt; you shiver as you feel his long fingers draw a smooth trail up your spine that turns into a light scratch as his hand pivots across your rib and towards your chest. You feel his cock jump underneath his sweats the moment he feels your breast.

“Damn, you’re soft,” he sighs. He bunches the hem of your shirt and raises it up, exposing your breasts to him. “Here, hold this."

He stuffs your mouth with your shirt to hold it up.

Before you can protest, Satoru leans down to drag a soft tongue over your nipple. Then he opens his mouth to suckle as much of your breast as possible. You bite down on your shirt, holding a moan as he flicks you over and over with his tongue, and then finishing with smacking kisses before he moves his lips across your chest to tease the other. Your torso twists and recoils from the raw, yet delicate sensation. But he pulls on your wrists to keep your back arched in his direction. The ache and heat between your legs become more and more unbearable, so you continue rubbing your crotch against the iron-hard bulge in his lap. Giving yourself some much-needed relief.

“Mmmh, that’s right, keep grinding on me,” he murmurs. “Make that pussy feel good.”

You shoot him a repulsed look. Though you're unable to snark at him through the makeshift gag he shoved in your mouth. Satoru laughs anyway, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. You’re such a sleaze.

“Oh come on. I’m how you like me,” he teases. “And if you keep looking at me like that I might actually bust.”

You roll your eyes at him and smile. And that only made Satoru greedier for any and all reactions he can coax out of your body. He grins and sets you back down the couch. Then he kneels on the floor between your legs and drags your shorts and panties down to the floor. You spread your legs for him, almost involuntarily. And he bites his lip as you show him the tender, sopping mess between your legs. His hands on your thighs feel searing hot as he raises your limbs up the couch, planting your feet on the edge of your seat.

“Play with your clit,” he tells you. “Show me how you tease it.”

Surprisingly, you obey. Your hand starts drawing languid circles around and around your bud. He leans in closer to observe you. Noting the rhythm, the pressure, how tightly or how widely you stroke yourself. You realize that he’s teaching himself how to make you feel good. And that only made you rub faster and harder in blatant, bare-faced need.

“Yes, that’s right. Keep going,” he encourages you. “Now put a finger in. Fuck yourself a little.”

You slip your finger and start gliding in and out. He nods and hums in pleasure as he watches you with unabashed lust and fascination. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You milk and ride your delicate fingers, stoking and tending to your own pleasure like a flame.

“Okay stop,” he says. He pulls your hands away. “I got the gist of it.”

“The gist, huh?” You taunt. “You think that’s enough?”

“You tell me.”

He parts your lips with his thumbs and glides a wide tongue along your slit. Your back bows and a moan escapes you as he licks you just like that.

Satoru doesn’t even take the time to gloat. His lips and tongue start to slurp and smack relentlessly. Making your toes curl and your stomach writhe. Grabbing a handful of his hair and nearly ripping it off his scalp as he somehow licks faster and sucks harder. With the rhythm and the consistency of a goddamn machine. You bite hard on the fleshy base of your thumb as he pleasures your pussy raw. Focusing your eyes on whatever random object you find in your living room to make yourself last longer. Cause you know you’ll never hear the end of it if you come all over his mouth within the first two minutes.

But then he slides in his fingers. Those fucking fingers. Smooth and long and dexterous as it moves in and out, over and over, curling to press that intense spot just underneath your bladder. You start to feel a deep sense of pressure, an urgency, somewhere inside your walls. That builds and rumbles and sears… and then explodes.

You grunt and arch as you feel a sudden release, something more than a climax. Your body grows taut and snared by euphoria, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hearing muffled as your ears start to ring. But Satoru’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Whoa there! I didn’t know I was in the splash zone!”

You snap your head back down and your jaw drops at the sight of him.

“Holy shit. Did I just– Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” you stammer, mortified. You grab your shirt to try to wipe him.

“Haha, hey. Relax. You didn’t actually hit me,” he says with a soft, reassuring laugh. He turns his body to an angle to show your watery spent hovering centimeters before his face. “See? All safe and dry. Unlike you.”

“Oh, shut it,” you sigh, panting heavily. “That… seriously never happened before.”

“Really? Never?” he asks with a smug grin, he starts wiping himself with your shirt before tossing it down the wooden floor. "Wow… I'm flattered."

Satoru kisses your thighs and leans down between your legs once again. You jolt and push his head away.

“Wait, I don’t think I-“

“Just a few kisses,” he says in a soft voice. “Just lemme get a few more kisses in there, yeah? I’ll be gentle with it.”

You sigh and slowly let go of his head. Satoru leans in to plant a few soft kisses on your outer lips, on your folds, your entrance–your entire body twitching with every touch of his lips. Then he presses his lips tenderly on your clit. And you feel it pulse and throb as his lips linger and your legs begin to tremble. He finally pulls away, wiping his mouth on your inner thigh.

“If that wasn't one of the biggest ego boosts of my life,” he says fondly.

“Yeah, cause the one thing you need the most is another ego boost,” you retort as you wait for your bones and muscles to feel solid again. “I’ll get you for this.”

He grins, “That a promise or a threat?”

“Maybe both.”

“Alright, bet.”

Satoru stands to push his sweatpants down his thighs. Then he reaches inside his boxer-briefs to draw out…

the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you watch Satoru shrug off his bottoms and straddle you. Instinctively, you wrap your hand around his cock and start stroking.

He looks at you with a smirk, “Gorgeous, right?”

His cock is long and proportionally thick from crown to root, shaped with a graceful upwards curve. His skin is glossy and flushed pink—wrapped tightly and smoothly around his organ without an inch of loose flesh. It’s almost uncanny how sculpted and elegant it looks. And the idea of his cock sinking past your throat makes your mouth water and your pussy pound.

“Go on, taste it,” he coaxes you. He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

You lean in and wrap your lips around his pretty, pink head—your tongue swirling and catching each leak of precum that drops onto your taste buds. Satoru moans and the neediness in his voice emboldens you to take more and more of him. You start swaying your head in deeper and deeper strokes; relishing the smooth underside of his cock. The thick scent of lavender on his skin and hair. The sweet and acidic taste of his precum. Satoru tries to breathe in deeply, only for his breath to shudder each time you sink your head.

“You’re pretty eager,” he teases, breathlessly. He runs his fingers through your scalp to hold your hair back, wanting to see more of your face as you work on him. “Do you want me to cum that badly? You want me to shoot my little babies down that throat?”

He yelps when you slap his inner thigh, your brow furrowed as you look at him with a flustered and reprimanding gaze. Though Satoru finds it pretty hard to take you seriously with his dick in your mouth. So he chuckles fondly instead.

“Or you can do that. I like it when you try to hurt me too,” he says.

You grab him by the back of his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, and you sink him deeper into your mouth. Satoru hisses and starts moving his hips, meeting your head downstroke. His cock starts to edge towards the back of your tongue, testing your gag reflex with every thrust. But you relax your throat and match your breathing with the swing of his hips, and soon you manage to bury him down your throat to the root. Your nose pressed firmly against the fluffy, white hairs of his crotch. Screw it. You let him hit the back of your throat over and over and over.

"Fuck," he moans. "At least try to make me last."

His hips pick up the pace. And you feel his muscles contract as his cock pushes towards release. You moan and pleasure him with the vibrations in your throat, wanting desperately to fill your taste buds with his cum.

But then he stops moving. His hands holding you stock-still against his crotch. You feel his cock twitch and throb in your throat, threatening to burst. And you can hear the strangled noises and whimpers coming from Satoru’s lips. You look up to him and see the look on his face; his brow is upturned, his eyes closed, and his jaw tight as he bites his lower lip. Looking like an angel in ecstasy. His eyes flutter open to peer down on you.

“Just a little more. Bear with me here,” he sighs. Then the twitching stops and he pulls his cock out. You gasp, forgetting you were holding your breath.

You shoot him an accusatory look.

“Did you just edge yourself?” You ask.

“What if I did?” He asks back.

“That’s not fair! I was winning!”

You lean forward towards his crotch but he holds you by the shoulders, laughing.

“It’s not a competition! I didn’t come all this way just to cum in your hand. Or your mouth,” he says with a smile. He reaches behind him to slide two fingers between your slit, gently caressing your inner lips. “I wanna cum here."

He starts gliding those long delicate fingers, up and down. Parting as he stretches you open. Your eyes glaze over as you feel that familiar heat building between your legs. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps you would rather feel him burst inside you instead. You start moving your hips to rut against his fingers, your hands rolling your breasts as you gaze at him with cock-starved eyes. Satoru twitches as he relishes that look in your face. Wanting nothing else but to thrust and wring that neediness away.

“Bed?” He asks you.

“Bed,” you answer.

You yelp and giggle as he hoists you up and jogs to your bedroom. He doesn’t want to waste a single second. He flops you down on top of your sheets and takes his shirt off. His naked torso tightens as he notices you admiring his body. Taking in his broad shoulders, his square chest, his tiny waist and those grid-like abs. Eight packs… How many abs does a person need?

Satoru aligns his groin between your legs and lays his cock across your stomach like a ruler; measuring how deep he's about to go inside your body. You shiver as his tip caresses your belly button. Your pussy throbbing in equal parts fear and delight.

"You think you can take all this?" He asks you with a devious look in his eyes, with his lips curled into a smirk.

You bite your lips and mirror his gaze, almost provoking him to try and split you apart.

"Come and find out."

He rubs the tip of his cock against your clit and pushes it inside you. You moan as his thick head stretches you with just enough hint of pain to compliment the pleasure. He leans down and sticks his tongue out, prompting you to suck it and caress it with your own. The sensation of your soft tongues circling each other sends you into a fucking frenzy. You feel your inner walls contract and his groan spills straight into your mouth.

“Shit, you’re actually sucking me in,” he pants. He grabs you by the hair to tilt your head down, making you watch the way his cock sink between your legs—one girthy inch after the other. “Look at it go. Watch how well you're taking me right now.”

You both groan in relief as his cock disappears inside your soft cunt, his tip pressed flush against your cervix. You both take a moment to stare at your interlocked groins in fascination.

And then he looks at you to flash a nasty grin.

“Hey bestie…” Satoru purrs, his voice dripping with mischief and lust. “Guess who’s inside you?”

“Oh, come on!” you groan, smiling deliriously as you turn your head away from him. You try to cover your face, but he pins your wrists to the bed.

“No, say it. Who’s inside you? Who’s fucking you right now?” He insists, giggling. He tilts his body to face you again, preventing you from escaping his gaze. He withdraws his hips and drives his cock upwards with a rough thrust, knocking you backwards. You tilt your head back with a moan as he hits you in the womb.

“Say it,” he urges.

“Who else am I supposed to say? Jesus?” you reply, laughing as he does. “You are. You're inside me. Happy?"

“What am I doing?” He asks again. He starts rolling his hips, fucking you slowly. His crotch rubs against your clit in languid strokes.

“You’re fucking me,” you gasp. Your breath catches as you turn dizzy and nearly cross-eyed from ecstasy.

“That's right,” he replies, now caressing your face. “I got you, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“You better,” you reply, wrapping your arms around him.

Satoru withdraws and flips you to lie flat on your stomach. Your legs pressed closely together as he parts your cheeks and aims his cock towards your entrance.

"Try not to gush all over your sheets, okay?" He teases. Then he nibbles your ear and plants kisses on your shoulders.

You sigh, “I just knew you were gonna bring that up.”

Satoru slides inside of you and you squirm and groan against the pillow instantaneously. The friction between your legs feels heightened as your muscles squeeze around him. He starts gyrating his hips, the tip of his cock hitting all the right spots with each downstroke. You grab the sheets and groan as you start kicking your feet from the raw, unadulterated pleasure.

He braces his hands on the small of your back. Then his hips move faster. Harder. Deeper. The slap of his skin nearly echoes inside your bedroom as he fucks the sanity out of your brain with each thrust. Your senses are overwhelmed by all things Satoru–the powdery scent of his skin, his pretty little moans in your ear, his smooth skin against your back, his comforting weight, and his thick cock pumping inside of you. With an angle so perfect and a rhythm so right that you wonder if his body was made for you. You squirm and writhe underneath him as the pleasure engulfs you like a flame. That he stokes and tends until it’s wild and uncontrollable.

You know it’s just sex. You know you’re just friends. You both just wanted to try something fun. Let off some steam. And yet you never felt used for a single moment. And despite all his teasing and provocations you’ve never felt insulted or uncomfortable. Satoru makes you laugh. He also makes you moan. And if he keeps fucking you like this he might actually make you cry.

Satoru collapses on top of you and starts groaning and whimpering against your neck, his abs flexing into stone as he stokes an impending climax.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm so close. Take me there, baby, take me all the way there, please," he rambles. “I want it, I want it, I want it. God, I wanna cum so bad."

He grabs you by the neck to tilt your head up and shoves his soft, sweet tongue inside your mouth. Kissing you with open lips. Saliva dripping down your chin. Then his hand starts to squeeze you, choking you gently and tenderly, and your body dissolves into a pleasurable haze. Your inner walls clench and your stomach tightens. You know you're getting close, too.

"Yes. That’s right. Good girl," he whispers into your lips. "Stay with me, baby. Stay close to me, I can't do this without you."

The pleasure builds, and builds, and builds, and then it shatters you. You start thrashing under his body as your climax rips through and seizes you. White light dances before your eyes and your hearing weakens from the strength of your pulse. Your pussy clenching so hard around his cock that he explodes inside you as well—his cum hot and searing like ignited oil. Satoru’s hips begin to stutter, helpless against the strength of his own spent as it shoots out and fills you straight to the womb until it leaks past your plugged entrance. He cums inside you in choking whimpers and grunts… that fade into a long, satisfied sigh.

“Hah… fuck… holy shit,” he pants. “What was that?”

“I never came so hard in my life,” you whisper, mindlessly.

“Me too… I thought I was gonna shoot my balls out.”

Satoru remains flat on your back, kissing and nibbling your nape as you unwind from the strength of your orgasms. Your bodies stay suctioned together, as still as the air that surrounds you. You seek comfort and grounding from his crushing weight and the heady sweetness of his scent as your mind slips into that blissful, post-orgasmic headspace. He tugs at his dick to pull out, but you’re still clamped and wound up tightly. That’s fine. He didn’t want this to end either. Your walls are just too soft, too warm, and too plush for him to just leave. He smiles and rolls your bodies to the side to spoon you; his arms wrapped around you like a blanket.

Satoru starts rubbing his face against your neck like a sweet, satisfied cat.

“So what do you think? You wanna do this again sometime?” He asks.

You could only hum in approval, your mind and your body feeling weightless and malleable.

“How long have you been meaning to sleep with me?” You ask. “Just curious.”

“… A while,” he answers after a pensive silence. “Does that bother you?”

"I guess not… But we’re still friends, right?” You ask. Wondering if you should even bring this up while he’s tucked inside you to the hilt.

"Friends with benefits, I guess," he shrugs. "But really, we can be anything you want. You already know how I feel so… ball's on your court."

He raises his head to look at you. "Why? You wanna get married?"

You laugh, "Maybe not that!"

“Why not? Lots of people marry their best friends.”

You turn your head and smirk at him, “I let you hit once and now you’re thinking about marriage. I must’ve been such a good lay.”

He smiles fondly and nuzzles your cheek, “You are, though. Seriously, who else can bring me to my knees like that? You’re the best I ever had.”

You roll your eyes and smile, “Now you’re just glazing.”

“It’s true,” He leans back down to kiss a trail from your ear to your shoulder. “I don’t care how you take me as long as we’re together. I like being with you. And now I know I like fucking you too. You’re not getting rid of me now. And like I said before. Whatever it is that we have, it'll definitely last.”

You stay silent, wondering where this all leads. Will the friendship really last? Will it fizzle out? Would you prefer that over a certain, bitter end? Is your friendship now contingent on sex? Will he be worth the heartache if you ever get attached?

Satoru laughs softly at your brooding.

“You don’t have to decide right now, you know?” He says. “Let’s just feel this moment together. Just feel me here with you. We don’t have to worry about anything else.”

He starts rocking his hips gently again, thrusting inside you with a pace so relaxing that you feel your consciousness sinking. He whispers softly against your ear; telling you secrets and sweet reassurances. Promises and high praises.

Satoru has leapt from that crumbling threshold. That boundary. That made you seek forgiveness whenever your fingers touched his hand. Or worry if you’ve taken your jokes too far. And he has opened his arms to you, beckoning you to take that leap and sink into that limbo between friendship and beyond. Promising you that he will catch you when you fall.

i wanted to capture that 'you cryin'?' energy of his and stretch it to a whole fanfic. though i hope it wasnt too much of a tone whiplash (•᷄- •᷅ ;) i just think annoying people is his love language. and he probs gets a kick from your reactions. pls let me know what you think! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

and thank you for giving this fanfic a chance!

originally posted on ao3 title is based on blurred lines by lauren layne. art by blooneey on pixiv

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[elliesbff]

“i need you.”

- abby anderson

hi hi! sorry it took me so long to get to this second part, i’ve been going through a lot mentally and have just been trying to get my head around things. i genuinely hope this teeters to your satisfaction ♡ thank you for all the likes on pt 1 c:

cw: nsfw, scissoring, (r and abby! recieving) oral sex, (r! receiving) fingering, (r! receiving) slight dacryphilia, a bit of hair pulling, softdom!abby, sub!reader. enjoy! ˖ ࣪⊹

read pt 1 of i need you here!

.*･｡ﾟ 𝜗𝜚 .*･｡ﾟ

moments prior,

abby’s braid slid graciously past her shoulder as she pulled away from your short lived embraced, already missing the warmth of her sun kissed skin. it seemed like she was in a hurry, scurrying out of the gym in the blink of an eye. as you took a moment to gather yourself, you realised that she’d left her bottle behind, and her bench remained uncleaned. you stood there dumbfounded, what could she have planned that was more important than gymnasium hygiene? after all, it was her that taught all you know.

when you were nothing but a baby WLF, abby took notice of you as a new recruit and instantly saw potential in you, taking you under her wing and training you like hell to fulfil your true abilities. although you were nowhere near as burly or as experienced in combat as her, you were quite good with weaponry and crafting, as well as adapting to your surroundings, making do with what you had on you during critical times.

she calls you ‘the scavenger’ when you were not present. it was her unique way of honouring how far you’d come since joining the WLF, how she paved the way for the indestructible soldier she firmly believes you’ll grow up to be one day. it’s also just her adorable little nickname for you that she beckons nobody uses in her place.

she has the upmost faith in you. growing closer with each patrol, each gym session, and sometimes just casually hanging about the FOB or at each others rooms. your friendship was something others envied; it was pure, full of trust and built upon mutual respect. but those closest to you knew it meant more than what first meets the eye.

abby was out of sight in the blink of an eye, you look around in a suspicious daze, trying to follow her whereabouts. she was quick, but not quicker than you.

you had a long-overdue session to finish, but abby looked relatively… uneasy. something was wrong, and you could feel it. the line between instincts and curiosity began to blur as your feet developed a mind of their own, your duffel bag and towel long gone as you’d already turned the corner outside the gymnasium.

maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was overkill to automatically assume the worst was happening to her. but if something was really up with abby, you wouldn’t live it down if you didn’t initiate help.

the look on abby’s face as you stared at her through the firmly rimmed glass, her beautifully arched eyebrows furrowing only ever illuminating her intense eyes — a million thoughts a minute ran through your mind, instinctively charging for two heavy silver doors and up a random stairwell. you could smell the scent of pine and sweat — that was definitely abby.

all reasoning for your unexplainable shenanigans flew out the window as you approached abby’s room, a series of shuffles followed by a supposed muffled voice echoed from the opposite side.

your hand hesitantly reached up to knock, only to realise the door was never locked to begin with. abby could never be that careless, — maybe manny, but regardless — she would sometimes recall times where she’d have to remind him to lock up before leaving during your sessions at the gym. she’d never make a mistake she so harshly scolded people for.

your face inches closer to the door, the cool solid wood sending a kiss of shivers across your exposed shoulders as it welcomingly swayed open.

with each step, the unintelligible noises grew much clearer, and it was becoming more palpable as to what that was entailing.

you’re heart only dropped to your gut at the sound of your name, uttered by a helpless, whining mess.

“please… please.”

the door conditionally, and gently swayed closed on its own behind you, a little clck locking the door in full as you took a couple steps closer. was this a figment of your twisted imagination? the soft whimpers and subsequent cries of your name begged to differ. it was no secret now. abby had a thing for you. you were almost too afraid to move as each whine only grew more vehement.

with a couple more stalled footsteps, you froze at the sight of abby, completely ruining herself at the fate of her own hand.

your eyes widened instantly, the warm air prickling your eyes as would salt water. seeing her all ruined over the thought of you was enough to lift your hands over your mouth in keen disbelief.

you attempted to gather yourself, debating whether or not confronting her on this was the best idea — but no normal person would just walk away and forget this ever happened — forgetting the image of abby anderson, issac’s top scar killer, ramming her slick-covered fingers inside her wet cunt all while repeating your name under a dumbed spell? it’s not something that can just leave your mind at the drop of a hat. it certainly wouldn’t later, neither.

while lost in your thoughts, your tense arms dropped to your sides as your feet followed closer, the sound of your boots shuffling against the smooth concrete floor not catching her attention,

“abby?”

you watched as her oceanic eyes shot open, the abby you once believed would simply chuckle and brush off the idea of this, now scurried to find something, anything to cover her herculean figure, freckled arms still just poking out the sides.

it took more than an ounce of self control to not let yourself run wild at the fact that the abby anderson had a rather strong fancy for you, not to mention she was fucking herself to the thought of you.

as your initial astonishment subsided, your body beamed with want. seeing abby flushed and heated clouded your acclaimed critical thinking.

“…can i have a turn?” slipped from your lips after tending to abby’s own neglected desires.

and here you were, moments passing almost at the speed of light. you laid flat on your back, tits perked up from the arch of your back with abby towered over you. her estranged braid slid off her shoulder with her eyes staring you down. your neck generously splayed with bruises and bite-marks, only reminding you that she’s been wanting this for god knows how long. unbeknownst to her, you did too, you just never believed you’d live to ever experience it.

her hand lightly grazed over your tit, meticulously attending to your swollen nipple. her thumb teased at it, rubbing the area in circles to provoke a much anticipated and equally expected reaction. with her hand on your chest and her lips returning to attack your already purpled skin, you stifled a whine, bottom lip bit between your teeth. she kissed along your throat, from the point of your jaw to the crook of your neck.

she continued toying with your body as her tongue traversed to your waist, laying another round of sloppy kisses to your hip bones and abdomen.

it was like your skin grew ten times more tender whilst under her touch, each breath of hers against your skin feeling like a gentle tickle, accompanied by her large and surprisingly delicate hands palming your tits, it was growing to be too much, too much being your style, anyways.

her hand left your chest to firmly grip onto your hips, pulling you closer to her lap. she took her already soaked fingers, prodding at your pussy like you’d done previously. your breaths grew shakier with each flick of your clit.

her eyes returned to that intense, fiercely glare from back at the gym, so that’s why she was so concentrated, or rather in her own dreamland.

her tongue laid a generous coat of saliva along her lips, staring at your pussy like the starved woman she was. for how long she’d ached for this, you had no clue. this was bound to be a moment to remember.

your cunts were practically hugging each other, the feeling of being so close to her pussy only added fuel to the fire that gleamed in your core. the longer abby stared, just taking in your breathtaking body, the stronger the feeling of being exposed grew.

her head dives below your eye view, feeling her nose bump at your clit. she savours it, her tongue peeling out at an antagonisingly slow pace as she glares at you through her arched brows. she could taste it all, her juices mixed with yours..

your hand gently took rest within her blonde locks, hooking into the back of her braid.

“abby,”

you huffed, sounding more like a plead than anything. with each soft, trembling breath, she’d drag her tongue along your cunt in sync.

her face would dig further into you, arms slithering to wrap themselves around your thighs. even if you begged for her to slow down, your needy hole that clenched around nothing, desperate to be touched, told her otherwise.

abby would stare at you longingly, finally able to die happy between your tensing thighs as she rapidly swabbed your clit with your tongue, dragging it along in circles and the likes.

your body jerked at the sudden change in pace, back arching instinctively off the bed. the whole lower half of your body fired up, tingly and numb. her muffled grunts sent you haywire, violently gripping onto her hair. she was like a leech that wouldn’t let go, sucking and lapping around that sweet spot like her life depended on it.

“stop squirming.” abby would demand as she shoved your hips back onto the mattress, not once detaching herself from you.

you could barely comprehend anything she’d say as she was practically suffocating herself between your thighs, and you’d both be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

abby teased your cunt with her fingers, carefully slipping her thick digits inside of you. your legs squeezed around her head at the sensation of feeling so full. her fingers, let alone hands, were thicker than yours. and they felt much more fulfilling.

your moans would blend harmoniously, both equally experiencing pleasure from the other as you climbed the ladder of your climax.

abby’s suppressed grunts would only ring through your ears. where was the abby that was so shamelessly call out your name moments ago?

your grip on her hair tightened, practically dragging her face along your cunt to accumulate as much friction as your body desired. her fingers would work wonders, unforgivingly pumping in and out of you as her tongue would rub against your clit. each time she would flick against it you’d jolt, back arched with a shy hand over your mouth.

in a matter of seconds, abby had pulled away — both her tongue and fingers. just as you were about to reach the peak, you’d tumble down with your high dropping in seconds.

“wh.. why’d you stop?” you breathed out, tears that rimmed your eyes beginning to dissipate.

as if abby could read your thoughts, she placed a leg over yours, dragging your helpless body closer to her. your cunts were mere centimetres apart, the slick that built up from your pleasure mixing with hers.

“wanted to rile you up..” she muttered, her beautifully eager smile spreading from ear to ear as she strategically began kneading her pussy against yours. abby let out a stifled whimper, her perfectly toned arms pulling your leg almost over her shoulder.

you whined as she slowly dragged her pussy back and forth. the only thing ruminating through your mind in the moment was how you wished you’d done this sooner. way sooner. if given the opportunity any earlier, you’d have jumped at it like an animal in heat.

tears generously coated your plump cheeks as abby picked up the pace, she muttered curses under her breath with each drag of her swollen cunt. it was evident she was close, her arms would needily latch onto yours in an attempt to pull you closer than you already were.

the sounds of timid whines and skin slapping echoed through the room. you hoped that nobody would mention a peculiar series of moans to you or abby the next day. but all you could focus on was her slick engulfed thighs, her chest and the hickeys that’d covered her tits. her neck that was equally as bruised, and her face that contorted into a smile once she noticed you were staring.

“this feel good?” she asks, a sudden grunt spilling from her lips a second after.

all you could do was nod. you were afraid once you spoke, you wouldn’t be able to stop. abby, abby, abby, abby, was all you could think of. how strong she was and how easily she could throw you around if she wanted to, how easily you could tug on her braid while she fucked you dumb. it drove you insane how she wanted you and nobody else. she fucked herself to the thought of you and nobody else.

she disapprovingly shook her head, slapping your thigh playfully.

“mm mm, i don’t take nods, use that pretty mouth,” abby grinned, her cunt grinding viciously fast against your own. you whined dumbly, the pleasure overpowering your body. you felt numbing tingles along each cell of your body.

you whined shamelessly loud, “it feels.. so good.” abby’s face enlightened, her hips picking up pace from your undying cooperation. anything for her to keep going.

she squeezed a handful of your thigh and massaged it, letting out her pent up urges that she was only able to let out now.

you dumbly mumbled a bunch of nonsense yes’, keep going’s and abby’s, initially climbing the tower of climax yet again. and abby was, too. as much as she tried to hide it, nothing could excuse how her hips would dig into your abdomen from how quick she practically humped your cunt.

abby held your thighs close to her, gaining the upper hand in creating more friction. her clit would bump against yours almost ever second. both your whines enveloped the air around you as the coil inside you snapped, your pleasure releasing out into a white pool underneath you.

but abby was far from finished.

she pulled your hips closer, with pussies rubbing against each other and whines echoing through the walls. you wouldn’t doubt for a second that someone could hear you.

with more than a couple grunts and calls for your name, abby came down from her own high, her hips faulting and slowly grudging to a stop.

you both panted relentlessly. you swore if she kept going you would’ve came a second time at the snap of a finger.

trying to regain your breaths, abby lets out a chuckle.

she doesn’t say anything, but she shakily pulls herself off of you, propping herself up by her elbow next to you.

a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as the reality of both your actions settled in. there was no hiding your attraction to one another now, none of this would’ve happened otherwise.

the never ending pining, hanging out one on one every chance you got and saying it was ‘just to train you’. you don’t know why you were surprised at the fact that abby would think about these things behind closed, or more so unlocked doors.

“..so?” abby’s voice was soft and meek, her hand fidgeting alongside her waist as her head rested on her other hand.

you hesitantly locked eyes with her, your previous shyness fading away as she planted a kiss to your forehead. something as cheesy and cute as a forehead kiss was enough to make you blush, subsiding all the things you both just did.

“..that was better than i expected.” you finally replied. abby’s eyebrow quirked, head tilting to the side.

“oh, so you thought it’d be bad?” she kids in a sly tone, that familiar smile returning once more.

you playfully punched her arm in response, the both of you knowing in reality, it felt like heaven on earth.

“does it look like it was bad?” you poke back, pointing to all the hickeys and bite marks along both your bodies.

only now did you realise how much of a mess you made. there was cum all over the bedsheets, saliva all over your cunts and what not — this place was really overdue for a cleanup.

you chuckle as you examine the aftermath.

“we should clean up..”

“we?” abby questions.

“i don’t mind, i made it too, no?”

abby couldn’t argue with that. she sighs, pulling you up and off the bed so you could both clean up. not without peppering your body with kisses first.

fin.

i hope you guys enjoyed this, it was definitely a lot longer than i planned, and sorry again for taking so long!! but i enjoyed writing this a lot, hopefully you guys enjoy reading it too. ♡♡

dt: louise again realest oomf!!

word count: 2,793

#abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou game #tlou x reader #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #tlou smut #tlou show #tlou series #lesbian #tlou fic #abby tlou #elliesbff

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

#lin speaks #bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 419 #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk

[lovemouche]

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line. 

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you. 

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No. 

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself. 

Love, the most twisted curse of all. 

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you. 

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?" 

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch. 

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement. 

"Talk to me," he encourages. 

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet. 

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more. 

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless. 

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms. 

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words. 

"Should I pull out?" 

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now." 

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers. 

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath. 

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation. 

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry. 

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore. 

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything. 

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself. 

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry." 

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?" 

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment. 

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be. 

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace. 

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless. 

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking. 

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul. 

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged. 

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you. 

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet. 

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality. 

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours. 

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread. 

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" 

He falls apart. 

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is. 

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says. 

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me." 

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't." 

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?" 

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy." 

Your eyebrows pinch. 

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying." 

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim. 

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away. 

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry." 

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage. 

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger. 

Even worse, a mistake. 

"Please?" 

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is. 

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery. 

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?" 

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though. 

"Tell me, please." 

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you." 

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection. 

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process, 

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you. 

It's as simple as that, really. 

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you." 

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away." 

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda. 

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you. 

You groan. "this is not the time." 

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say." 

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?" 

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment. 

It's all still so surreal. 

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing. 

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters. 

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex. 

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

#writing #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #gojo smut

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part one

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

status: completed

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 1.1k

The thing was, you didn’t plan on getting laid tonight. 

After a couple of days trying to settle in at Barcelona and looking for your lost luggage, all you wanted to do was to finally start your vacation. You just wanted to relax and experiencing the night life in Barcelona was definitely a good way to officially kick it off. 

So there you were at the bar of an (apparently) exclusive night club in the city–the location was emailed to you by Derek with a VIP pass and a note that said, ‘have fun ;)’–nursing your second, half-empty glass of mojito, the speakers blasting rhythmic reggaeton music, when a woman slid into the space next to you, cool and confident with the way she leaned on her elbows against the counter as she gave the bartender her order in smooth spanish, “A gin rickey, please.”

The woman looked to be several years older than you–and taller, too, even with your heels on–and maybe it was the alcohol or the proximity but there was no stopping yourself from openly admiring her. Her black, cropped top and her tight, high-rise pants revealed perfectly broad shoulders and toned arms, as well as the taught lines of her stomach. When your eyes travelled back to her face, you found her looking at you with a raised brow and immediately, your cheeks warmed. The fact that you were gawking shamelessly and got caught doing so… just wow.

Words of apology were already on your tongue but the curves of her lips were mesmerising, the elegant slope of her brows distracting, and those eyes… the depth in them threatened to drown you that all coherent thought deserted you. 

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Excuse me?” Came the bemused question, an instant slap to the face that sobered you up immediately. 

“I’m so–I’m sorry, that’s what I meant to say. I’m–” You palmed a hand over your face as you began but a small chuckle stopped you halfway. You risked a peek through your fingers and saw the woman with her lips to the glass, something akin to a teasing smirk on her face while she remained leaning on the counter by her hip. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asked as she took a sip from her drink.

Not really the question you were expecting but you’d rather take a reprieve over a disaster. And at that, you smiled sheepishly at her. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hmm, no, not really. Your slight accent gave you away but your Spanish is impressive.”

“I’m still working on losing it but I’ll take that as a win. I’m assuming you’re from around here?”

“My home town is about an hour away outside of the city but I stay here most of the time for work.”

“That must be nice, being close to home.” Feeling more at ease now, you sipped at your drink. The woman did the same. Then you continued. “So, what do you do?”

For a moment there was nothing but music and chatter as the woman regarded you with an unreadable expression. Her eyes glinted–with what exactly? curiosity?–her head cocked slightly to the side. Then she sipped at her drink again. Did you say something offensive? you wondered.

“I work between the sport stadiums. And you? Where is home and what brings you to Barcelona?” 

It was clear from the vagueness of her answer that the stranger didn’t want to talk about her job and it didn’t help your growing interest for her. You wanted to ask her about further details but the dismissive tone with which she answered made you hold your tongue and her question, anyway, made you pause as you pondered to answer.

As an orphan who lived a few years in the system, the subject of where home was had always been a sore spot for you even if the stranger didn’t mean anything deeper by it. In some sense, your adoptive mom was home but there was always a part of you that longed for… something.  But, of course, you couldn’t bring that up right now especially to someone you just met. So you just told her where you were from, that you were on vacation, and that you work as a photojournalist for a press agency you helped establish. Something in your answer must had piqued the woman’s interest because her brows shot up.

“Which branch do you work in?”

“Spot news. But I’ve been meaning to expand my portfolio and get into another branch. Maybe try sports or portrait?”

The woman hummed in appreciation. “Any sports in particular? Wait, do you even like sports?”

“I honestly know close to nothing so I haven’t made a decision yet, but it will definitely be women’s sports,” you replied. She nodded and sipped at her drink again, never breaking her gaze from yours and you felt your cheeks warm again. Those eyes… they were dangerous; they lit up every nerve in your body and it felt good. You continued. “What about you? Are you much of a sports person?”

And to your total bafflement, the woman beamed at you, radiant and glowing, dimples in her cheeks as mirth shone in her eyes.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous and at somewhat of a loss. 

The stranger let out a small chuckle, shook her head slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, an attempt to hide her smile. “Nothing, nothing. And yeah, I’m a big sports fan. Then a beat passed before she continued, “you ever thought of covering women’s football? There are plenty of matches happening in the domestic leagues right now.”

“Maybe I will,” you hummed, mulling it over. It sounded good actually. And then you asked, “what else do you suggest for someone to do in Barcelona?”

The woman downed her remaining drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. Before you knew it, you could feel the warmth of her breath against your ear and you shivered when she purred. “Dance, of course.”And then she was holding your hand, pulling you off of the stool you were on, and began dragging you to the direction of the dance floor. 

All at once, warmth encompassed you: the crowd immediately swallowed you both, bodies pressed on you but the heat that emanated from the woman before you was the sole beacon for your attention. She had a loose arm around your waist and as the both of you danced to the music, you took that opportunity to wrap your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. She slowed down and she still had enough height on you that she had to lower her head.

“I never caught your name,” you spoke into her ear. 

“I’m Ale,” she replied. She pulled back to smile down at you. And then, she kissed you. 

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: meant to be a oneshot but im posting it as parts now 🥲 ill combine everything once i finish and post it on ao3 #meanwhile will reblog this to post future parts thats why the drop down is there ahahah #apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[wolfiesmoon]

A day to remember

Inumaki x gn!reader

this is a request!! thank u so much for requesting💗anyways time for jujutsu tech prom hehe😌 (lets pretend prom is a thing in japan and that there's actually enough students to do a cute thing like this lmaoo)

also since this is a prom fic, the second years are now third years and the first years are second years

@noomon one tag for uuuuu

The atmosphere was oddly lovey-dovey at Jujutsu Tech recently. Prom was just around the corner, so it wasn't exactly odd that spirits were high, but considering the usually grim faces that you see in the halls of the school, it does feel strange to see everyone so excited.

Then again, you suppose it is better to make the most of every day as a sorcerer and little joys like this are precisely what make all the death and injury worth it.

But, on the topic of prom... You don't know who to go with! You might just end up skipping out or going alone if you must (Gojo will probably force you to go). After all, prom isn't all about dancing with a guy and romantic stuff, it's about having fun with your friends and laughing at the memories you made as students of this school.

Or, well, for this kind of school, maybe some of the memories are better forgotten.

"Hey, senpai!" you heard a familiar voice behind you. It was Yuuji and Nobara! They often come to talk to you about random things so you aren't at all surprised to see them.

"Hello." you greet them, wondering what crazy story they'll tell you today.

"Do you already have a date for prom?" Yuuji and Nobara beamed.

"Do I- No, no I don't." that's the question you were expecting the least. Why are they asking you this anyways?

"Great." Nobara huffed, very satisfied with your answer. Yuuji seemed even more excited than before. You had little question marks floating above your head.

"Why are you happy about me being single? Are you two trying to tell me something?" your eyebrows furrowed slighly. But then again, Nobara and Yuuji are idiots (affectionately), so you don't think they're seriously trying to insult you.

"Oh, actually, it's because-"

Nobara slapped a hand over Yuuji's mouth before he could continue his sentence. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." she smiled at you, dragging Yuuji away and muttering something you couldn't quite catch.

Huh. How strange.

But now that you think about it, there is one person you'd really like to go to prom with.

.

The next day, Panda approaches you after class.

"Hey, you should like, totally follow after me right now. I have something to show you." Panda suggested cheerfully. And why not? Knowing Panda, he probably just has something funny or stupid to show you, which is always a pleasure.

As you followed him, a strange feeling started rising up inside you. You felt oddly fidgety and excited. Maybe it was the whole prom thing. I mean, with the strange conversation you had with the second years just yesterday is it that much of a stretch to assume that you're about to get confessed to via a prom invitation?

Nah, you shouldn't get ahead of yourself. If anything, Panda's going to let you in on someone else's promposal plan so you can help them out. Not that that's a bad thing, you just really get your hopes up sometimes.

You were being lead down a dimly lit hallway in one of the more secluded areas of the school. There was even candles here and there, to set the mood, you assume. Wow, this is really a last minute invitation. They're asking you to help out at the last possible moment, huh?

You soon found yourself in front of a group of students, all lined up to make a little walkway for you and Panda. Panda stops right at the end of the line, motioning for you to continue walking. All the other third years lined up were smiling knowingly at you. What in the world is going on?

You walked down the line of students a bit hesitantly, taking the flowers each of them handed you along the way. Oh wow, this is impressive. And also definitely means that this promposal is meant for you. You can feel your heart start beating faster with excitement when taking each rose into your hands.

Who orchestrated a confession so grand? Please be him...

Nobara handed you a rose when you walked by her, smiling proudly at you. Now the question from yesterday makes perfect sense.

At the end of the line of students, you saw a few of your classmates holding up signs that said "I know I'm not a man of many words, but I really need you to kelp me out here. It's almost prom night and you're still not together with me (which is criminal in my opinion). This isn't just a prom invitation, by the way. Will you go out with me tunaight?"

There's only one person that could have written those signs. Not just because of the familiar handwriting, but also because of the words he chose. And sure enough, Inumaki Toge was proudly holding up the middle sign, looking at you.

You clutched the makeshift boquet of roses in your hand. It was him after all.

In all three years of your schooling at JJT, you've found Inumaki Toge to be especially charming. You had a bit of trouble talking to him at first, but you quickly got along after you bridged the whole "onigiri ingredient" gap. Honestly, you don't know how long it's been since you felt... a special way about him.

It took you a while to realise, but you definitely like him. More than a friend.

And knowing it's mutual...

He looked at you with such hope in his eyes that it made you want to hug him and kiss him all over. And so you did.

The sign he was holding fell to the ground as you embraced him tightly and he immediately hugged you back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. As if that is the place where you belong.

"Yes, yes, I'll go to prom with you!" you yelled happily, leading everyone around you to cheer. You didn't really notice it because you were busy kissing Inumaki's cheeks, but all the other third years looked satisfied, knowing their ship has sailed at long last.

"But bad onigiri ingredient puns, really? I'm feeling the second hand embarrasment real hard right now." your face scrunched up slightly, cringing.

He simply giggled quietly in response, squeezing you again.

You can't deny, that is so him.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗ #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki x you #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #jjk inumaki #inumaki fluff #inumaki x y/n #inumaki x male reader #inumaki toge x you #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki x you #it is literally 3 am i am half functional and still have school assignments to do 🥴 #*dies*

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training IV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, mentions of forced pregnancy, mentions of forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

Jane was the one to greet you this time.

“You’ve been eating!”

She looked happy at that, smiling at you as she came to take the empty plate. You didn’t return it, mind wandering to Peter. He’d left days ago, and as thankful as you were for the solitude, you couldn’t help but worry. Once you’d started actually eating, it was like you couldn’t stop. Your body started craving food again, and it was then that you worried you might’ve been…tricked.

Peter said he was going to check on your mom, but how could you know that was true? After all, he was the reason you were even here, and he hadn’t done a single thing to show that you could trust him. In fact, all he’d shown you was the complete opposite. Everything that had happened showed you that you shouldn’t trust him…ever.

“Steve will be happy,” she continued, moving to unlock the bathroom. “You have a big day ahead of you, so you’ll want to scrub good.”

You frowned at that, following her into the bathroom.

“What do you mean?”

Were you leaving this room?

“You’ll be leaving this room today,” she answered your silent question. “You’ll be helping out in the garden with me and Sharon.”

Another woman, another name.

You repeated it to yourself, trying to keep count, and including yourself, that was five women. Which meant five men…at least, but then you thought about the day Peter had shown you Margaret, and there were men there you hadn’t even seen, so there was definitely more than five. The thought overwhelmed you, and you struggled to swallow.

Jane told you about what you’d be doing as you bathed, and when you were done, she had a dress laid out for you on the counter. You eyed it, hesitantly putting it on, confusion flowing through you. When you looked at Jane, it was the first time you noticed she was wearing a dress too. That’s all she’d been wearing, you realized, and so you didn’t question it.

Jane took your arm as she unlocked the door, and it hit you then that you were finally leaving this room. The thought had you shaking, and Jane rubbed your hand in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. As you glanced over your shoulder at the bedroom, she closed it, speaking.

“Normally, you’ll make sure the bed is made when you first wake up…”

Your eyes met hers as she continued.

“…then you’ll come downstairs and get started on breakfast, but seeing as it’s your first day, and you’re still adjusting, things will be a little different.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at her words, wracking your brain at all of this. You didn’t understand anything, and you looked around as she guided you down the hall. It didn’t take long to realize the house was large, and if you had to guess, this was more of a wing than a simple hallway. The thought was overwhelming, and again, you thought about what an escape attempt would even look like in a place like this.

Jane was talking to you as you walked down the stairs, your eyes roaming over pictures that lined the wall. Some were faces you recognized, like Steve and Margaret with a baby in her arms, and some you didn’t recognize, like a brunette man and woman with strawberry blonde hair. Still, it was all pictures of seemingly happy couples posing for the camera, and considering the reality behind the pictures, the sight made your stomach churn.

“We’re going to get you something in your stomach first, and then we’ll go to the greenhouse.”

She was leading you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“I would’ve brought you food in bed, but…”

She trailed off, looking…worried.

“Steve feels like you’ve been adjusting long enough, and he wants to see you contributing right away, so…”

Steve.

He was clearly the mastermind behind whatever this was, and it only made you more wary of him. You looked around again, taking in the house, and you were surprised at how…nice it was. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you were expecting some rundown house in the backwoods of this town. Considering how nice the room you’d been staying in was, you didn’t know why it didn’t occur to you that the house would be even more impressive.

The amount of money that went into this place hinted at the amount of money they had…and that terrified you.

The kitchen wasn’t empty when Jane guided you to it, and you blinked at the sight of two women, one of them familiar. You tried not to stare at Margaret, but it was hard. The first time you’d seen her, she’d been naked and was being brutally raped by her so called husband. You swallowed as her eyes met yours, a warm smile on her lips.

“This must be Y/N,” she said, and you were surprised by how…calm she sounded. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

She pulled you into a hug before you could react, and you didn’t exactly hug her back, but she didn’t seem to care. The other woman in the room barely acknowledged you outside of a tight smile, more preoccupied with whatever she was cooking.

“I’m Margaret, but sometimes I’m referred to as Peggy,” she continued, and you nodded.

She glanced at the other woman, and seeming to get the hint, she turned to face you. You noted how pretty she was, but it was a cold kind of beautiful, the kind that made her seem equally terrifying. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders in pretty curls, and her green gaze was unwavering.

“Natasha,” she introduced herself.

You realized that this was Nat…Bucky’s wife. The same woman who had been down in that basement for almost four months, and you looked at her with a gaze that bordered along awe. You hadn’t even lasted a week, and you found yourself feeling incredibly…inferior at the moment.

“Y/N and I are going to be helping Sharon in the garden,” Jane told them as she started to fix you a plate of food. “Something small to get her into the swing of things until Peter comes back.”

Natasha snorted at that, but otherwise said nothing, and you curiously eyed her.

“He’s just off taking care of something for Steve, but he’ll be back in no time,” she told you, turning to you with a smile.

You wondered if that was what Peter told Steve, or if that was simply the message Steve conveyed. Again, you found yourself wondering who Peter was lying to. You or them? You gave her a tight smile in return, and she urged you to go in the hall, promising that she’d be right out. You hesitated at first, but eventually did, and you slowed when her hushed voice carried.

“We’re meant to be welcoming, Nat,” Jane told her.

“Welcoming,” the redhead scoffed. “Right.”

There was a brief silence before she continued.

“Steve wants her out and helping out because he likes being in control, but she’s not okay,” you heard her say. “She’s not ready.”

You heard her roughly put something into the oven just as Margaret spoke.

“Keep your voice down,” she quietly told her.

“He’s not here.”

“…but Tony and Stephen are,” Jane said. “Thor too. If Steve thinks she’s ready then she’s ready, and that’s that.”

Jane joined you moments later, a soft smile on her lips.

You didn’t mention the conversation you’d heard, and neither did she. After eating, Jane took you through the house, giving a brief tour along the way, and you were finding it hard to remember the layout. When Jane guided you through a side door, you were surprised to find it attached to what was obviously the greenhouse. You remembered seeing a few gardens in the backyard, and you frowned.

As if reading your mind, Jane spoke.

“You’ll be outside helping in the other gardens one day, but, for now…”

She didn’t need to finish the thought. They were afraid you’d make a run for it, and honestly, if you were outside, right now, you probably would. The thought of getting caught and thrown back down into the basement made you shudder though, and you winced.

“I know this is a lot,” she finally said after some time, looking at you with an honest expression for the first time since you woke up. “…but you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t know why, but those words made your eyes water, and you looked away.

“Hey, hey,” she softly shushed, reaching for you. “It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over, and Jane tried to quiet you.

Your chest grew tight, and the greenhouse felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in. The idea that you would get used to this, that this nightmare wouldn’t even be that one day but instead something you saw as your normal life, it was too much. You thought about that picture of Margaret and Steve and their baby, and you wanted to be sick.

Jane was calling your name.

“Y/N, look at me,” she softly demanded. “You have to stop crying. You have to-.”

“What’s going on?”

You jumped at the new voice, and you froze, pressing your hand to your mouth just as Jane looked up. The fear in her eyes waned some, and you didn’t miss the way her entire demeanor softened. She swallowed, briefly glancing at you and rubbing your shoulder before lifting her gaze again.

“She’s still adjusting, Thor,” she slowly told him, gaze almost pleading. “She-she just needs a moment.”

She turned you around so you both were facing him, and she wrapped her arm around you, holding you close.

“Right?” she asked you.

You looked at her before looking at…Thor.

He was huge, and it wasn’t in an insulting way, but more so an observation about his build in comparison to Jane’s. His blond hair brushed his shoulder, and it was partially pulled back out of his face. He didn’t look real, blue eyes standing out so much, and you pressed your lips together as he eyed you. You didn’t know how to take him, but considering he was here with the rest and doing what everyone else was, you decided not to trust him.

You remembered that Jane had asked you a question, and you nodded.

“Use your words,” she whispered, squeezing your arm.

“Yes,” you quickly said. “I just got overwhelmed.”

Thor didn’t respond right away, and you were terrified of what he might do or say. It wasn’t lost on you though that Jane didn’t seem as scared as you. She was very much relaxed against you, and when Thor leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, you surmised that this was her husband.

“It’s a lot, young Y/N, but with my beautiful Jane here, you’ll catch onto the flow of things quickly.”

You didn’t miss the way Jane smiled at him, and it left a bad taste in your mouth. When he looked at you, you froze under the weight of his gaze. His demeanor was friendly, and you definitely weren’t as nervous around him as you were with Steve, but outside of the obvious, there was something about him that unnerved you.

He tapped Jane’s chin before turning away, and it was only then did she exhale. She rubbed your arm again, assuring you that you were okay, before turning you back towards the plants.

You’d been helping out around the house for two days when Peter finally came back.

You didn’t know he was back, of course, in the kitchen with some of the other women and getting breakfast started. You were with Sharon, Natasha, and Pepper. You’d met Sharon in the greenhouse the other day, the blonde woman welcoming you with a small smile. You didn’t know how to take her, and she seemed to think the same of you.

Pepper seemed stern, like Natasha, but kinder. You’d messed up quite a few times over the morning, and as annoying as you knew it had to be, she hadn’t said a single negative word. It took you longer than you wanted to admit that you recognized her from the pictures on the wall, cuddled up next to a brunette man with a goatee. You eyed her strawberry blonde hair.

“Here,” she told you, handing you some cut potatoes. “Toss these into the pan.”

It wasn’t lost on you that they were giving you tasks that didn’t require some sort of sharp object, and it was almost flattering to think they thought you had that in you. You weren’t so sure. Sharon was chopping some more as you did as Pepper instructed, and it wasn’t long after that that you heard her exclaim. You looked over as she hissed, and you stilled at the sight of the blood on the counter.

The blonde was holding her hand under the sink with Natasha’s help, and you faintly recognized that Pepper was saying something to you.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the blood, gaze roaming over it as crawled along the surface…the same way it had crawled away from Pietro’s body. You shakily reached out, grasping the counter, and you couldn’t make out anything in the room. All you could see was Pietro’s limp body sprawled along the pavement, and you sharply inhaled.

You blinked, eyes stinging, and you felt a hand on your arm.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head, but instead of darkness, you saw Wanda collapsing after Bucky had shot her. You saw how easily and quickly she’d died, and it was like you weren’t even in the kitchen anymore. You were running through the trees with MJ, her hand tightly clasped with yours…until it wasn’t.

Someone was calling your name, and you didn’t register why your knees were hurting until you opened your eyes to see that you were on the floor. You tried to stand, but you couldn’t, collapsing every time, and it took you way too long to realize what that loud wailing noise was.

It was you.

Your chest was hurting so much, and Pepper and Natasha were trying to shush you, but you couldn’t stop. Your vision was blurry from your tears, and you held your head in your hands. You were shaking so bad, and you slid down to the floor, forehead grazing the tile, and Pepper’s voice was in your ear.

“Y/N, you have to calm down,” she shakily told you. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you.”

“She needs to be quiet,” you heard Natasha say, her own voice sounding off. “…before…”

“What’s going on in here?”

You recognized that voice, and it only made you cry harder. None of them answered right away, too stumped by Steve’s presence, and the only sound for a few moments was that of your sobbing.

“She… We don’t know,” Pepper finally said, her hand on your back. “Sharon cut herself, and then she just… It triggered something, I guess.”

You could hear his heavy footsteps nearing you, and he sternly told Pepper to move. She did, and when Steve’s hand made contact with your arm, you screamed. You hadn’t meant to, the sharp sound escaping before you could stop yourself. You pushed yourself away from him, but with nowhere to go, you only pushed yourself against the cabinet. Your nails dug into Steve’s arms as he tried to grab you, and you were crying so hard you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Maybe you should get Peter,” you heard Natasha hesitantly suggest. “He just got back, didn’t he?”

You could only assume Steve took her suggestion because you didn’t feel him anymore. You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to quiet yourself, but you couldn’t stop. You kept seeing their bodies over and over again, MJ’s face as she pushed you away. The blood on your hands…

You felt yourself tilting again, about to sink back down to the floor, when someone stopped you.

Hands were on your face, wiping your tears away, and a familiar voice was shushing you. Peter’s lips brushed your ear as he leaned in, and one of his hands slid to the back of your neck. He softly said your name, once, then twice, before telling you that you were okay. When he pulled away, he wiped your face again, and you peeled your eyes open.

Your gaze met his, and Peter tilted his head at you.

“You’re okay,” he gently told you, a small smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re dead,” you choked out. “They’re dead-they’re gone!”

“I know,” Peter said, pulling you against him. “I know.”

You could feel his hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing circles into your back. He shushed you, standing and forcing you to stand with him. He held your face in the crook of his neck, and you could faintly hear Steve’s voice as he said something. Peter said something back, but you couldn’t make it out.

You tripped over your own feet as he kept you against him, guiding you out of the kitchen. You almost collapsed again going up the stairs, but Peter kept you from falling. His fingers dug into your waist, and the other hand wrapped around your arm. You were too consumed by the memory of your friends’ murders to care about the close proximity, legs trembling and heart racing.

When he finally got you inside of your room, he didn’t stop you this time when you sank to the floor. Your forehead was pressed to your knees as you brought them up, and you wrapped your arms around your legs. You cried so much your head was starting to ache, and it was only when your sobs died down into soft sniffles did Peter speak again.

“I have something for you…something I think you’ll want to see…”

You slowly looked up at his words, remembering why he’d left to begin with. Peter was standing over the bed, reaching into a duffle bag, and you watched him pull out some pictures. Your lips parted as he neared you, and he knelt before you, handing you the pictures. With one look at them, your eyes watered again, but for an entirely different reason.

It was pictures of your mom checking her mailbox. She had a phone pressed to her ear, and you couldn’t stop flipping through them. You felt Peter wipe your face again as you did, your hands shaky, and more tears spilled over as you studied her face.

“She looks so sad,” you tearfully mumbled. “So worried.”

It was true. You could see it on her face, in her eyes, and it made your heart clench. You couldn’t imagine what she was going through, and you started crying again. It was interesting, because by anyone’s standards, you were in a far worse situation, but all you could think about was what it was doing to your mom.

Peter sat with you as you repeatedly flipped through the pictures, and you wiped your face.

“I’m never leaving…am I?” you asked after some time.

The words came out choppy, shaky, and you looked at him. You held his gaze as Peter reached out to brush away a stray tear, and he moved closer.

“No, pretty girl,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No.”

The pictures fell into your lap, and you dropped your face into our hands. Peter let you cry, and you didn’t know how to feel. You hated him, and how could you not? He was the reason you were even here. He’d wanted you, and so he took you, but then you’d think about Steve and how he punished Margaret, and just how mean he was…and you found yourself wanting to be grateful to be stuck with Peter.

…but you didn’t want to be stuck here, at all.

You felt Peter take the pictures, and you lifted your gaze.

“I didn’t tell Steve what I was really doing…”

You frowned at that, and you realized that Peter had lied to him. Not you.

“So…” he reached out, gently taking your chin as he held your gaze. “This will be our little secret, right?”

You faltered at that, frown deepening.

“If Steve finds out, I won’t be able to go and see her again.”

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered.

It was just as painful as it was exciting to see her and see how she was doing. You weren’t there, and you never would be again, and the thought made you so sad. It felt like you were just torturing yourself, and you shook your head.

“I can’t…” you trailed off, more tears spilling over. “She has no idea if I’m even alive, and I can’t see that.”

Your head drooped.

“I can’t watch her mourn me.”

Especially when you weren’t even dead, and that only made you think about MJ’s parents, Pietro and Wanda’s. They were in the same boat, you assumed, only their children were dead. You wondered what they did with their bodies, wondered if they at least let them be found so they could be buried or if they just… You looked away, more tears spilling over, and Peter pulled you against him when you started shaking.

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Peter pressed his face into your hair.

Sleep was hard to find.

You were on the floor again now that Peter was back, slipping out of the bed the second his breathing grew light. You’d been staring up at the ceiling for hours, thinking about your mom and your friends. It was too painful, but you couldn’t stop, replaying the memories in your head and thinking about how much your mom had seemed to age in such a short time.

It made you want to cry again, and you pushed back the tears, sitting up.

You felt almost…pitiful. All you’d done was cry and mope and lose your mind at the sight of blood. You thought about Natasha, finally putting a face to the name of the woman who’d lasted almost four months down in that basement, and you hadn’t even lasted a week.

You peered over the bed, looking at Peter as he slept.

Yes, he’d done a nice thing, and no, he wasn’t Steve, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Peter could let you go, and he wouldn’t, because no matter how he may have felt about Steve’s methods, he wanted you here. You were here because he wanted you here, and you slowly stood. You knew the door would be locked, but you tried anyway, and you weren’t proven wrong.

You tried to think of where Peter kept the key, and you bit your lip.

Searching for it without turning on a light was nearly impossible. You didn’t think Peter would be stupid enough to just leave it in either of the nightstand drawers, but you were shocked to find them locked anyway. A few tears escaped, and you pressed your lips together. The closet door was always locked at night too, and you pressed your hands to your eyes, swallowing down a sob.

You were just about to try the door again when Peter’s voice startled you.

“What are you looking for?”

You jumped, hand tightening on the knob as you pressed yourself closer to the door. You didn’t say anything, and light soon flooded the room as Peter turned on the lamp. You kept your gaze on the wood, afraid to look at him, and you shuddered when you heard him push himself to his feet. You pressed our forehead against the door, and you flinched when Peter touched your arm.

“Do you want to be sent to the basement?”

Peter’s voice was low, but you heard home, nonetheless, shaking your head.

“Do you want…do you want Steve to tell me to drag you outside, tie you up to a tree and-.”

“No, no,” you choked out, shaking your head. “No.”

“Well, that’s what’s going to happen if he catches you trying to escape…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“That’s what would happen if I weren’t a better man, and I told him that I caught you trying-.”

“I’m sorry!”

Tears spilled over.

“Do you know how much I had to convince Steve to let you stay up here after what happened yesterday? He wanted to make an example out of you,” Peter whispered, his fingers grazing your arm. “He wanted to throw you down in that basement for a month.”

Your stomach turned at the thought, and you couldn’t stop crying. You felt Peter take your arm, slowly pulling you to him, and he backed up until he was sitting on the bed, taking you with him. Your head drooped, eyes on your lap, and Peter wiped your cheek.

“Things could be so much worse for you,” he whispered, leaning in, lips grazing your cheek. “I’m trying to help, but you have to help me.”

You sniffed, and Peter straightened the sleeve of your nightgown.

“Help me help you.”

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs, and Peter stroked your face, playing with your hair.

“Okay…?”

You sniffed again, briefly closing your eyes, and you gave him a hesitant nod. Peter sighed, and you felt his hand drift, tracing circles into your back.

“How about this…”

He moved closer.

“You sleep up here, tonight, because now I feel like I can’t trust you.”

“No, I-.”

“Sleep up here with me…and I won’t tell Steve about what you tried to do.”

You froze at his words, blinking, and you looked away. The thought of sleeping next to Peter made you want to be sick, but at the same time, the thought of Steve finding out that you’d tried to escape made you want to die. It made your blood run cold, heart dropping to your stomach, and you slowly looked at Peter.

His brown eyes were warm, no hint of anger in them, and he reached up, gently grazing your jaw with his fingers.

“What do you say, pretty girl…?”

You looked down, heart threatening to leap from your chest, and against what you wanted, you gave him a shaky nod. Peter softly urged you to your feed, gently taking your hand. You couldn’t stop crying, silent as tears spilled over, and Peter shushed you, tucking you in. He sat on the edge, hovering over you with one hand pressed into the bed on either side of you.

His dark brown hair kissed his forehead, and the smile he gave you was meant to be reassuring you guessed.

“This will be our little secret, okay?”

You held Peter’s gaze for a while, playing with the comforter. You wanted to trust that he wouldn’t tell Steve, and even though you didn’t, at least not fully, you also didn’t have a choice. Sleeping next to Peter for one night was nothing in comparison to however Steve would want to make an example out of you.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed.

His smile widened at that, and you remained still as he stood. Peter walked to his side of the bed, the room bathing in darkness before he joined you. He didn’t move closer nor even reach out for you. He stayed on his side as he sought sleep once again, and against what you wanted, your body started to do the same.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #dark peter parker #marvel imagine

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

At Your Service

Summary: As a trainee mechanic, you apply for an apprenticeship at Stark Automotives on a whim. What you don't expect is for Tony Stark to reply personally with an offer to train you, and if that wasn't enough, a certain redhead also takes an interest in your sessions.

Word Count: 2303

Pairing: (Mentor/Mentee relationship for both) Natasha Romanoff & Reader; Tony Stark & Reader

Warning: None :)

A/N: Thanks for the response to my last fic, all the comments and reblogs kept me writing even with all my deadlines, and Mechanic!R was the clear winner of the last poll, so here you all go! Enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

You rested centimetres from the cold floor with the sight of oil-covered gears, shafts, and pipes overtaking your vision as you rolled under the automotive.

"Does the axle cover come off?" you said after a short inspection.

"Yeah, those two hex screws, I'll get you the tool. You've worked out the issue?"

"It's meant to be 4-wheel drive and only the front wheels are moving; I'd guess a problem with the connector shaft meeting the rear axle."

"You'd guess or you'd know?"

"I can't know anything 'til the cover's off and I can see inside."

"Good answer," Tony replied. "Hand out."

As instructed, you stretched your arm until your fingers just about reached out from under the car chassis, where a tool handle was placed in your palm.

"One 5/8 hex screwdriver, that's the one you'll need."

"The screws are imperial?"

"'Course, kid, we're in America."

"Yeah, but you sell these cars globally; I just assumed-"

"Dear old dad set up factories all over the globe – allows for some regional differences in the schematics, then each production line just does its own thing. It's easiest for everyone."

You hummed your acceptance of his method, then started to undo the screws, until a light rock to the car paused you. The movement stopped, so you assumed it was just Tony leaning on the car and you moved to continue your work, until the hum of a motorbike -- the sound of which you'd previously ignored -- grew even louder. You jolted when the bike pulled into the garage, causing you to smack your head against the car's underbody and let out a low groan.

"Watch yourself, kid; are you alright under there?" Tony said from above. At your murmur that you were fine, he continued, "roll yourself out, there's someone for you to meet."

"Why's there someone under your car, Tony?" came a woman's voice -- the person to meet, you assumed -- "can't get under the car like the old days, hm?"

When you emerged, the bright light of the outside world temporarily blinded you; you could make out Tony's figure, and as your vision returned, you saw the newcomer's back was turned to you, so only an orange plait could be seen from under her bike helmet.

"Very funny," Tony scoffed, continuing the conversation before he pointed at you. The woman turned and you only just managed to stifle a gasp when you recognised her face. "This is an apprentice, wrote to me a couple months back asking to learn about Stark Automotives, so I've been training them since. Y/N, this is Nat. Nat, Y/N."

From the moment Tony suggested training you here, in the garage of the Avengers Compound, you knew there would be a chance of running into the rest of the team you'd spent your childhood idolising. But truthfully, you were too starstruck that Tony Stark himself had offered to train you to truly believe that moment of meeting the other Avengers would ever come.

Now here you were, facing the Natasha Romanoff, looking effortlessly cool with her white vest, jeans, and leather biker jacket...while you laid on the floor in a Stark branded boiler suit and a definite grease mark where you’d hit your head. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when you realised that the Black Widow's first perception of you was seeing you smack into an object directly in front of your face. You only hoped the blush didn't show when you finally met her eyes.

"Good to meet you," she said cooly, holding her hand out, but her eyes tracked up and down as if sizing you up.

You took her hand instantly, about to ramble through an introduction before a slight gasp from her shook you back to attention. Your eyes snapped down to where your hands met, and you realised then that you still wore your gloves, coated with oil from working on the vehicle, and now you've smeared it all over her uncovered hand. You instantly broke away -- apologising profusely -- and grabbed sheet after sheet of blue paper roll, offering it to her to help clean her hand.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated again, but she shook her head and smiled at you.

"I've had much worse meetings. I'll happily take a little bit of grease over being shot at."

"Woah-"

"Hey, kid," Tony began. Both your head and Natasha's snap in his direction; you'd honestly forgotten he was still there. "Not to interrupt, but have you ever worked on a motorbike? I made a few modifications to Nat's, and now that she's so kindly brought it to us I can show you how they work."

"Do not lay a finger on my bike, Stark," Natasha growled in a tone that reassured you that if she had actually been angry at the grease before, you would have known.

"I won't," Tony scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "...Y/N will."

You gulped, eyes darting between the two Avengers as you were drawn into the fold. "Me? Tony I'm not sure that's-"

"It's essential learning. We don't just make fancy cars so you have to learn it all. Nat, you wouldn't deprive Y/N of this learning, would you?"

Natasha groaned, but eventually relented, crossing her arms and perching on the counter by the wall. "Okay, but I'm not leaving you alone with it. And Y/N?"

You looked up, fear probably showing on your face. Natasha smiled in return, and allowed you to see a glint of mischief in her eye, "give me a running commentary of what you do. I trust your honesty more than Stark's." She smirked at the last part, rolling her eyes as she pointed to Tony behind his back, an action for you and you alone to see. Something about it put you at ease, so you nodded, smiled back, then got to work, spending the rest of the session under the assassin's watchful eye.

»»————-　★　————-««

You watched the phone in your hand, hoping and waiting for those three little dots. Tony Stark was not a man famously known for his punctuality, but he’d been early to every lesson so far and now, ten minutes after you were due to meet, you’re starting to worry.

The worry wasn’t the lesson being cancelled so much as the worry that one of the other Avengers would walk in and accuse you of trespassing – there were still so many residents you hadn’t met, and without Tony present, you were just a stranger loitering unaccompanied in the Avengers’ garage, surely that looked suspicious. No matter the fact that you were supposed to be there and had gained authorised access with your security card, your anxieties continued to grow and grow.

Your heart rate sped up proportionately to the increasing rumble of an approaching bike. The seconds seemed to elongate when you knew there was no escape to being caught there alone. In the remaining time you had, you pulled your phone back out and, with shaking fingers, messaged Tony one more time – at least then you had proof, you kept your eyes on the device even as you felt the newcomer pull in and dismount from their motorbike.

“Let me guess, Tony didn’t tell you he’s away?” Your head snapped up at the familiar voice, face breaking into a grin as red hair broke free from under the helmet. Natasha had been showing up more and more frequently to your sessions, so her arrival was no surprise, but you were glad to have a friendly figure to justify your presence, lest anyone else appear. Natasha set her headgear to the side and hopped up onto the counter, following her usual routine; you watched her intently until you realised she was watching you too, still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, uh, yeah, no, he didn't- he didn't tell me. He's not coming?"

“He got called on a mission last night. Should be back in a few days, if all goes to plan, but I’ll have a word with him about keeping you informed.”

Her undivided attention unnerved you – Tony had always acted as a buffer before – so you fidgeted, avoided eye contact, and wondered what your next move should be. Thankfully, Natasha answered that last question for you: “It wouldn’t be right to send you home so soon,” she said, “And I am officially a Stark Industries employee still, you know, if you wanted…”

“Yes!” you exclaimed instantly, speaking before you thought. “I mean, yeah, if it’s no trouble. That would be awesome.”

“We both know I’d sit here and watch anyway.” She spoke softly and with a smile that you found yourself drawn to replicate, feeling more at ease in the spy’s presence. “Now then, I know about a lot of things but mechanics is an area where you might already have me beat, so how about something else?”

“Like what?”

“What do you want to know?” she shrugged, “Russian? Latin? Artillery? Archery? Wrestling? Weightlifting?” At your dumbstruck expression, Natasha smiled and realised she would have to make the choice for you, “how about the gym? You can impress Tony with your strength next time he makes you use that scissor jack.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory – neither Natasha nor Tony had said anything at the time, but both of them had needed to jump in and assist when you’d been unable to turn the jack enough for it to actually lift the car and fulfil its purpose. From Natasha’s warm smile, you could tell she still wasn’t mocking you for the incident, but you still nodded quickly and murmured agreement with her plan, before following her through the Compound towards the gym.

“Can I ask why you’re a Stark Industries employee?” you asked on the elevator, as a way to fill the silence and out of curiosity from her earlier words.

She laughed, “It was back in ‘09, we had to get intel on the newly revealed Iron Man, and the man behind the suit-”

“Tony-”

“Exactly. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. made some edits to the employee list, added my cover there, and I successfully infiltrated the company for as long as I needed. I only officially revealed myself at the 2010 Stark Expo – do you remember that? – and in all the chaos afterwards, they never officially took me off it.”

“I think I remember seeing it on TV – you were there?”

“I left before the explosions started, but I was around, trying to make sure as few people were in harm’s way as possible-” Natasha cut herself off as the two of you entered a space larger than any lecture hall, fitted with all sorts of workout machines – the majority of which you’d never seen in your life. “Here we are.”

“You use…all of this?”

She nodded, then paused, before pointing to a section in the corner where the machine structures and weights seem almost treble that of the current area. “That section’s for Steve, or Thor if he ever bothered to train. Us regular humans wouldn't move it an inch if we tried to use those machines.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head again, guiding you towards one of the regular machines: a chest pad adjusted to press against your front as you sat on the stool, while Natasha adjusted the weight and pulled the two handles back for you to grab them. With the position set, you looked up to her for advice,

“Pull the handles towards your chest and push them back to neutral, it'll work out your upper arms. That's where a mechanic will need strength the most, so aim for 10 repeats.”

Natasha watched carefully, adjusting your posture where needed, until you completed the set. You broke into a grin at the realisation that you'd managed it, one which Natasha happily replicated as she held her hands up for a high fives. “You'll be a pro in no time,” she promised, “ready to increase the load?”

The rest of the session continued in much the same manner – Natasha introduced you to different bits of equipment and perfected your form until your phone buzzed with a routine alert to mark the end of a session. 

Natasha accompanied you to the door, smiling, receiving, and occasionally rebuking the many thanks you bombarded her with for stepping up. “It was truly my pleasure,” she said at last, “I'll make sure Tony is back next week, but if you want to do this again, you have my number.”

She squeezed your shoulder, turned, and began to walk back inside – all before you came to the realisation: “I don't actually have your number!” you shouted after her. Natasha didn't respond, but when you checked your phone only seconds later, a message had appeared in your notifications.

‘Yes you do :) 

-N’

She really was some spy.

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything changed from then on: you walked in to Tony and Natasha arguing a week later, their sudden pause at your presence a very good indicator that they were discussing you, something they confirmed only moments later.

Next thing you knew, both Tony and Natasha had taken you on as their mentee, a session with each of them once a week, and neither of them wanted you to leave. Your apprenticeship was extended into the next academic year, where you moved even closer to the Avengers Compound to visit them more often, the two Avengers – not to mention the others they'd introduced you to – always making sure you were well cared for whenever you visited. Eventually, Tony even offered you a full-time job post-graduation as the Avengers' official mechanic, and who were you to refuse? You loved the work just as you loved spending time with your mentors, so you could think of no better job in the world.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff & reader #natasha romanoff & y/n #natasha romanoff & you #tony stark #tony stark & reader #tony stark & y/n #tony stark & you #ikan writes #self insert fanfiction #reader insert #marvel #fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff

[queenie-official]

‘First Kiss’ Modern!Anakin

main masterlist

pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x reader

summary: 3 times you kissed Anakin + 1 time he kissed you

a/n: it's been a while since i’ve written but i got inspired so here's a bit of childhood friends to lovers with modern ani and reader

first kisses everyone has them, some later than others. in your case it was a little complicated, on a technical note you’ve had your first kiss- wether or not it really counted was completely debatable. which is exactly what you were doing with Anakin right now.

“That doesn’t count Ani” you huff, crossing your arms as you lean back in Anakin’s desk chair. spinning back and forth slightly to keep your eyes off of his scrunched up face.

“why not?” he pushes, not understanding why you refused to count the moment as your first kiss.

“we were five and didn’t even know the significance of a kiss” you scoff, stopping yourself briefly to look directly at him as if that would help him understand where you were coming from.

he didn’t look convinced however, sitting up from the spot he was laying on in his bed. now leaning his back against the wall, brows furrowed in what you could only assume was confusion.

“we’d just gotten back from a wedding y/n, i’m pretty sure that was enough for our little minds to grasp the significance of a first kiss” he mocked the way you said significance, putting air quotes around the word as he spoke.

Anakin’s uncle’s wedding, it wasn’t a big event yet they’d invited your family. your mom was practically an unspoken family member so that wasn’t a surprise. what was shocking however was that kids were allowed at the wedding ceremony and not just the after party.

why your mom and Shmi thought you’d both have the attention span for such an event was beyond you.

neither one of you sat still at all, thankfully it was venue where the wedding ceremony took place in the same spot as the after party. which gave you and Anakin lots of room to run off to when your parents finally gave up on trying to get you to stay in your seat.

truth be told you didn’t remember much of what happened that day probably because of how young you both were.

you remembered hiding under the clothed tables and playing hide and seek with Ani. the words from the priest as the ceremony proceeded nothing but background noise for you. both of your occasional giggles escaping loud enough for all the adults to hear.

At some point you and Anakin just stayed under one table in particular, probably talking about cars and ponies. poking your heads out every once in awhile to see if it was over yet.

it was one of those times you stuck your head out that you saw it, the bride and groom kissing. you knew enough from all the princess movies you’d seen that this was an act of love. that gave little you an idea.

thankfully the ceremony was early in the morning and the party ended in the late afternoon. which meant the second you got home- after insisting to your mother you guys go over the Skywalker’s house so you could play together longer, you hosted a little wedding of your own.

Anakin didn’t own a lot of teddys but he had enough for it to work in your mind. it took a bit of convincing on Anakin’s end before he agreed to ‘marrying’ you but the promise of you returning one of the car toys you stole from him was enough of a deal for him. so the two of you worked together still in the clothes you’d worn to his uncle’s wedding, to push the dining room chairs into a line and place his few teddys in them as the guests.

once you had the fun of ‘walking down the aisle’ you grabbed both of Anakin’s hands in yours and planted a kiss on his lips just like you’d seen at the wedding.

“yea definitely not- we were just copying what we saw at the wedding it one hundred percent does not count” you say matter of factly, staring at him blankly. unwavering in your stance on this matter.

Anakin rolls his eyes “fine but what about that time you kissed me at the park!” he protests, pointing an accusing finger at you. giving you a look that said ‘try and deny this one’ so you did.

“We Were seven!” you throw your hands in the air dramatically. “that’s only two years after the last one” you groan, running a hand over your face. “our frontal lobes were barely developed”

“it’s not like they’re fully developed now either, that doesn’t happen till like twenty-five” he says frustratedly. of course he’d know that fact, you lean forward in the chair resting your elbow on your thigh as you now lean into your hand.

“i said barely not fully” you retort to which he rolls his eyes.

“it counts” he says firmly.

Tag, a game you always hated. Anakin on the other hand loved it- of course he did, he could actually run fast. he was one of the tallest kids in your second grade class, and then there was you. one of the shortest kids in the class, the odds were never in your favor when it came to tag. between being slow and clumsy you never stood a chance, the only reason you were even participating is because Anakin Managed to convince you to play.

it was always like this between you two. no matter what you were doing, even if the other didn’t want to do it you’d somehow always manage to convince each other to join in.

joint at the hip from the moment you’d learned how to walk, both of your parents always said.

how he convinced you after you swore you’d never play tag again was surprisingly easy, ‘i’ll make sure you don’t get caught’ he had said. no promised you. and yet he was nowhere to be found as you hid behind one of the trees at the playground.

the sounds of whoever was it chasing the other kids around as they all screamed with glee and fear of being the next person who was tagged. it spun throughout the air like a summer breeze, for Anakin it was a thrilling sound- for you it was a warning that if they found you hiding you’d be it for sure.

which wouldn’t be a problem in your eyes if only it wasn’t next to impossible to catch up to the other kids and tag them.

at the end of the day it was always Anakin who’d let you tag him, ending your misery of being stuck playing the tagger for the rest of the game. you hated it, not liking stuff being handed to you but it was better then having to run for fifteen minutes straight trying to catch whoever you could.

“Kenobi’s It!” you heard a kid yell from in front of you. oh no… in front of you- in a split second you see the familiar boy with auburn locks run right beside you, a wave a panic runs through you as he lunges forward to tag you.

just as quickly you’re tugged backwards by your hand, Turning to face your savior only to see it was the very boy who promised to keep you from being tagged to begin with.

initially you were mad, after all he’d left you to fend for yourself only to somehow manage to save you last minute. but that anger just melted into relief that you weren’t it.

he tugged you along running to one of the playsets, carefully pulling you to hide under the slide with him.

finally he turned back to you, a bright smile on his face that showed he was proud of himself for getting to you in time.

you’d lunged forward then, kissing him right on his cheek as a thank you.

neither of you had time to react before you heard some kid yell “Padme’s it!” and the familiar sound of feet running straight to your direction. forcing you out of your hiding spot and running alongside each other.

big toothy grins on each of your faces.

“it definitely does not count, i didn’t even kiss you on the lips that time” you say annoyed but sit up proudly thinking you’ve won the argument.

“a kiss is a kiss y/n” you can’t help but laugh at his statement. if that was seriously his only defense for that counting as a first kiss then you really had won.

“anything that happens in Elementary school doesn’t count, half of the boys in our class still thought cooties existed” you continue to push, and Anakin looked just about fed up.

“okay if elementary school not counting is your only requirement then i raise you this” he begins, leaving a small gap in the conversation so you could give your input. add any other requirements to the mix but you don’t.

instead raising a brow waiting for him to continue. “sixth grade. Padme’s Birthday party.” he crosses his arms, now sporting a smug smile of his own.

“that was a dare!” you shout, blushing embarrassed at the memory.

cake had just been served. honestly you’d never seen such a big cake served at a birthday party, perks of being rich you’d guessed.

there weren’t even that many guests, maybe eight people your age and the rest were padme’s family members. which only consisted of her mom, dad, two aunts and cousin.

you weren’t complaining though, the bonus of such a big cake and so little people meant you could help yourself to as many slices as you wanted.

currently you were on your third slice, well past being full and heading into food coma territory but this was the best cake you’d ever tasted and you’d be damned if you didn’t consume as much as you physically could without vomiting.

Anakin was well into his fourth or fifth slice himself, between the two of you Padme’s birthday cake would be gone within the hour.

“i don’t think i’ve even seen you guys breathe in between slices” Padme's soft voice pulled you and Anakin’s attention almost immediately.

“i thought you said we could have as much as we want?” Anakin spoke through a mouth full of cake, the hard consonants coming out more as f sounds making it hard to understand him. well you understood him just fine, but judging from Padme's confused and disgusted face expression it was safe to say you were the only one.

she turns to you for an explanation but you just shrug “it’s good cake” you say simply as if that’s answer enough. finishing the last bite of your slice before she tugged you along with her to join the others leaving Anakin to finish his slice by himself.

“look who’s finally is joining us” a boy with blonde hair said, he looked familiar but you couldn’t remember his name. maybe he was in one of your classes? either way you just rolled your eyes not caring enough to give his subtle jab any real attention.

“we were going to play truth or dare you want in?” one of the other girls your age asked you, she had long brown hair. you had absolutely no clue as to who she was.

Padme was friends with a lot of people you didn’t know, Anakin and Obi-Wan being your only mutual friends. of course Obi-Wan wasn’t able to make it to this party, so it was just you and Anakin.

“sure why not” you said with a shrug, but by the shared look they all had you began to think you might regret that decision.

the second the dare left the mouth of the brown haired girl you now new as Armani you were about ready to strangle Padme who looked proud of her for asking you to do it. this was definitely a set up- you knew you should have picked truth.

“come on y/n, you scared?” the blonde boy- jacob, teased.

oh it was on. normally you’d find a way to wiggle your way out of the situation but you were not about to be called chicken by some boy who didn’t even know you.

so you spun right on your heel, and marched right up to Anakin.

the poor boy looked extremely confused and almost scared? like he was afraid you were about to tell him off for something- which in his defense your determined face did come off as an Angry one at times, plus you were also annoyed.

leaning down you planted a kiss right on his frosting covered lips.

it actually hurt quite a bit since you did it so quickly, you smashed your head against his in the process. but hey you did the dare.

you groan in embarrassment, rubbing the same spot on your forehead where you’d smashed into his years ago. you did your very best to forget about that memory and up until now you’d done a good job at it.

“uh uh you said the only requirement was that it couldn’t happen in elementary school. and that was middle school” he countered your previous comment.

“you said it yourself that was sixth grade- we were fresh out of elementary school, that’s practically still being in it” you glare and he scoots forward now sitting on the edge of his bed. your knees brushing against his.

“it was almost the end of sixth grade, so actually it was basically seventh grade. if we’re going by that logic” he runs a hand through his hair as he recalls the memory.

“regardless, it doesn’t count.” you huff once more, wanting this to be the end of the conversation.

his brows furrow in annoyance. “why are you so insistent on all those kisses not counting” he says exhaustedly.

“why are you so insistent on them being counted!” you throw the question back at him.

“because i count them” he says it so casually but with full sincerity all you can do is blink a few times, processing his confession.

he counts them.

to Anakin Skywalker his first kiss was when you were five and pretended to get married. His second kiss was when you were seven and thanked him for saving you from getting tagged. his third kiss was when you were 11 and smashed your face into his after he finished his last slice of cake.

now here you both were at 18 years old, fresh out of high school and on a technicality the only person you’d ever kissed was the very boy in front of you.

“but we were just kids?” it came out as a question, your voice a bit airy as you were still wrapping your head around the revelation.

“oh for crying out loud” the next thing you knew Anakin’s mouth was on yours.

he’d leaned forward from his seat on the edge of his bed, hands now resting on your thighs as he kissed into you.

your eyes fluttered close almost instantly.

“did that count?” he asks smugly once you both pull away. a big smile made its way onto your face as you looked at him now.

wether you liked it or not Anakin was going to be considered your first kiss and he insured that.

hey huns 🤭 have you missed me? i’ve missed you guys! i’m taking a bit of a break from writing my bridgerton au ani fic solely because the burnout was getting real 😭 so any new fics that go out are probably gonna be one shots i’ve been holding off on writing 😗 anyway hope you all enjoyed 💋💋

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #rots anakin #atoc anakin #modern!ani #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern! anakin x reader #modern!anakin x reader #modern!star wars #modern!anakin #modernau!anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin x reader oneshots #anakin x you #anakin fluff #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

[scekrex]

Sooooo, about that idea 😂😂 I'm sure you already know where this is going 👀👀

Adam and reader casually talking about something and they get to the subject of being together somehow even after death, how it would or should go if either of them dies and reader just goes: "Well, I definitely wouldn't move on if you died (Oup-). I don't think I would be able to... " and Adam just looks at him with a bewildered look and goes: "Fuck you mean 'If I died you wouldn't move on'??YOU'RE MY HUSBAND, IF I'M DYING, YOU'RE DYING. WITH. ME. AIN'T NO CHOICE! WE ARE MARRIEEEEED, WE GON' DO EVERYTHING TOGETHER AND IF THAT INVOLVES DYING THEN SO HELP ME HOLY FATHER, YOUR SPICY ASS IS GOING WITH ME". Originally I thought about the reader to say all of that, but then I just thought: No, hold on, that's such an Adam thing to say 😂😂

I swear Adam's so full of himself he'd simply be offended that reader's first intention wasn't "We're ride or die babe, if you die, I die with you" lmao

Baby we could be Bonnie & Clyde

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, talking about death, slightly cracky

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“What’s up, buttercup,” Adam hummed as he sat down next to you on the bed. The thoughts of the upcoming extermination weren't sitting right with you, it was really nothing more than a gut feeling but something told you that Adam and you should skip extermination day this year. And maybe that was part of the reason why you've been so quiet all day, maybe not, who knew.

Well, Adam seemed to at least know that something was bothering you.

You rested your head against his upper arm and sighed, maybe talking would get it off your chest for a moment, talking to Adam about the things that bothered you often helped. “I wanna skip extermination this year,” you started, you weren't able to look at your husband, not that you were afraid of his reaction but you knew how much that day meant to him as the leader of the exorcists. “Why?” was all the brunette asked as his wing softly wrapped itself around your back, the tip of his feathers were therefore resting on your thighs, not that you minded.

Yeah, why was a damn good question. Because of some stupid fucking gut feeling wasn't exactly the answer you wanted to give but it was all you had that came close to a reason so you said that. Adam remained silent for a moment, he seemed to be genuinely thinking about a response. “I get it,” he then mumbled and that made you peek up to him with curious eyes. You wouldn't have thought he did, or maybe he just said it to ease your mind a little. “Before my first extermination I was so fucking nervous,” the first man continued with a soft chuckle rumbling through his body and his arm came up to softly caress your shoulder, “I mean every time we go down there my life's on the line, and not just fucking mine but the lives of my chicks too.” Yeah, you assumed he was right. “I mean, it's not like these demon bitches would fight back or shit, but, y’know, they could, so what if they quit being fucking bitches and hurt my ladies? They're not going to, but they fucking could and-” he paused for a moment, took a deep breath as his eyes focused on the wall across the bed, “and that's fucking scary.”

Had Adam just admitted that he was scared of something? That he was scared of the demons in hell fighting back? It seemed that way. “I don't think I'd be able to move on if they'd kill ya,” your voice was quiet, shaking and far from sounding stable. Adam's eyes moved from the wall to you, an offended look in them, “The fuck you mean ‘you wouldn't be able to move on?” You backed off a little in order to look at him properly, “Y’know, I don't think I'd be able to ever be happy again.”

The first man grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, playfully, yet his eyes were dead serious when he spoke, “You’re my fucking husband, if I die you're dying with me, ain't no fucking choice.” You frowned a little at his words, but now that you thought about it dying with him sounded better than grieving his death for all of eternity. Your wing nudged his shoulder playfully and you replied, “Yeah well, that offer wasn't on the fucking table.” That caused a grin to erupt on his face and he pressed your upper body backwards until your back was flush against the mattress, “Yeah well, fuck whatever offer’s on the table and what's not, we're fucking married bitch.” His face came close to yours as he leaned down and for a brief moment you thought he was going to steal a kiss from you, but then his lips moved to your nape instead, “We’re gonna do everything together and if that involves dying, then holy father help me, your spicy ass is coming with me and if I have to drag you with me personally,” he paused to press a kiss to your jaw, his teeth softly scraping against your skin before he continued, “Then fuck, I fucking will, you got that?”

A laughter bubbled up from your chest at that and you grabbed onto his shoulders to flip you both over, now you were on top of him, “When the fuck did I sign up for a double homicide, huh?” He grinned up at you from below as his hands slid down your sides to come rest on your hips, “When you signed the fucking papers to marry me, slipped in a little contract that said your ass belongs to me and that you have to fucking die with me.” You pretended to punch his chest as you chuckled, “Fuck you, bitch.” Adam's grin only widened at that as he cheekily shot back a, “Do it yourself, you fucking coward.”

If he was inviting you so nicely, who were you to reject?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[inbarfink]

So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore. 

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is: 

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song. 

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession. 

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline. 

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her. 

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love. 

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her.  And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from? 

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #fionna & cake #at #at spoilers #fac #fac spoilers #f&c #f&c spoilers #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers #adventure time simon #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake series #fionna and cake simon #fionna and cake show #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #the winter king #winter king #ice king #the ice king #simon and marcy #ice marceline #ice marcy #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #marceline abadeer #marceline and bonnibel

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 5 - "You're the smartest person I know."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Mensions of Blood, Injury and Violence

A/N: This is kind of a bad timeline kind of situation that plays into the Gamer Pal Prompt I wrote before but can still be read independently.

Danny gasped as he staggered along the alley wall, with no idea where he was. He leaned with his shoulder against the wall as his left hand pressed against the wound on his stomach that refused to stop bleeding. He was confused, dizzy and pretty sure his father had given him a concussion, so closing his eyes and just sleeping on the side of the street was out of the question.

Tucker had thrown him through a portal Wulf had opened and that portal had spit him out here in… he doesn't recognise anything. But he was pretty sure he wasn't in Amity anymore. His vision was blurry but he was pretty sure that there were skyscrapers or at least buildings way taller than he was used to.

"Fuck." Danny cursed as another wave of pain made his body shudder. If he could just transform than maybe these injuries wouldn't be as bad but next to the pain Danny could also feel electricity surging through his body thanks to whatever Vlad zapped him with that stopped his transformation.

He coughed, squinting his eyes at the red spots that splattered to the ground. Things had gone to shit and real quickly and for a moment Danny thought that maybe they should have listened to their Gaming friend. Listened to his words of caution and advice to find a way to leave or to have at least a couple more of back up plans if things go horribly wrong.

Well it all came back to bite Danny like usually, as he spat out another glob of blood. Maybe Tim hadn't been as paranoid as they had assumed.

"You okay there kid?"

Danny needed to blink a couple of times until the red and brown blob before him finally took the shape of a person. He blinked several times more until his brain also finally caught up with who he was seeing before him.

"You're Red Hood?" Danny somehow managed to say in between coughing again. Tim had told them about Gothams vigilantes and how he could contact them to get them to help with Amity. To get them into contact with the Justice League. They had thanked him but refused the help, citing the fact that even one overshadowed hero could spell even worse trouble than they already had.

Now he felt stupid having refused that kind of help.

"Hey there kid." Don't black out now. Your bleeding pretty heavily we should get you to a doctors and-"

"No hospitals." Danny cut the vigilante off, coughing once more. Even though Tim somehow had managed to get the Justice League started on the removal of the Anti-Ecto Acts they were not yet gone. He couldn't risk that yet.

But meeting Red Hood meant that Danny was in Gotham, which meant he could probably go directly to Tim for help. His Gaming Pal did say that he knew his cities vigilantes personally.

"Okay no hospitals then." Hood confirmed for him as the man reached out to Danny just as he lost his balance falling forward. The last thing Danny remembers was muttering something along the lines of "Tim… I need to find him."

The next thing Danny then became aware of was the soft beeping of a heart monitor and loud arguing not too far from him. He groaned audible and the arguing stopped instantly. A wight rested on his shoulder and Danny blinked through the brightness and blurreyness once more until he vaguely recognised the shape of a person he so far had only seen through video chats.

"Tim?"

"You absolute idiot." Was the response he got and yea that definitely was the voice he had heard so often during all the late night Doomed gaming sessions.

"That checks out. You are the smartest person I know." Danny chuckled lightly until a sharp pain made him gasp. "Shit, I will feel that for weeks."

"The smartest person you know is Sam. Between the four of us she has the best grades, remember? Besides that, do you have any idea what kind of panic you and Tuck send us through?"

Danny peaked at Tim and grimaced at the frustrated glare the other teen was sending him. "Tucker was the one throwing me through a portal."

"You're lucky you landed in Gotham." The other then muttered, shaking his head.

"Again. You are the smartest person I know. You would have figured out some way to track me? Like the time you hacked our phones and tuned in onto Desiree's ectosignature to find her. Works better than the Booomerang that keeps hitting my head."

"That's because that thing is only tuned on you."

"And you somehow got rid of the GIW and I still haven't figured out how you did that."

Danny watched how the other teen shrugged. There was a silence between them. Tim was texting on his phone, probably informing Sam and Tucker. Danny, meanwhile, for the first time took notice that he was in some sort of medical bay, also noting that whoever Tim had argued with had already left. If he could believe Red Hood's words, then even if this looked like a hospital room it was not one.

"Hey Tim?" Danny finally broke the silence and the other teen only hummed. "Is your offer to stay with you in Gotham and to go to school and college here still open? I think I am ready to leave Amity behind now."

Tim looked up from his phone at Danny and gave him a feral grin. "About damn time. I had all the papers ready for you for ages now. It's about time we finally make use of them."

Danny chuckled. "And you still don't believe me when I say, that you are the smartest person I know?"

"Anyone in my family can do at least that, you know? These papers are nothing special."

Danny only raised an eyebrow at the other before both teens started to laugh, with one laugh getting cut short by a groan of pain and the other by fussing over the other right after it.

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #Tim drake #jason todd #dcxdp #fanfic #Gaming pal #Danny needed saving #shit when down in amity #Danny escaped to Gotham with injuries #Red Hood found him #Tim and Sam were Panicked #they didn't know that tucker and wulf threw danny into a portal #Tim ended up arguing with his brother about how to best keep Danny save #Tim was prepared #Danny just needed to agree with him #unedited #no beta we die like danny #added tags after posting because I forgot some... sorry

[loverwebs]

The Perfect Pair

Pairing: Bella Ramsey x Costar!Reader

Synopsis: After playing Ellie and Riley, you and Bella answer the internet's most asked questions.

Word count: around 1,100

Part Two

Just like any other highly anticipated series, The Last of Us press tour consisted of traveling and interviews. The entire experience being incredibly glamorous and exciting for the cast.

On one of the last few days leading up to the premiere, Bella and Y/n were paired up to answer the internet's most asked questions.

Despite her role for the show being limited, Y/n continued filming in Canada for a movie after wrapping as Riley, which gave her and Bella the opportunity to spend even more time together since Bella didn't finish until a few months later.

The duo would often visit each other's sets and had countless sleepovers, constantly posting the other during their time together.

That being said, they already knew what the internet thought of them. It didn't change anything, though.

They knew they were close.

A little too close.

"Unlike the other boards, this one has questions for both of you." Bella's assistant explained towards the end of the interview, handing the last board to them. "Whenever you two are ready."

Bella cleared their throat before peering at the board in their hands, "Are Bella Ramsey and Y/n L/n..." She looked at the camera through squinted eyes before proceeding.

"...still friends?" Y/n finished off once the sticker was peeled.

"Phew," Bella pretended to wipe sweat from their forehead, meanwhile Y/n dramatically placed a hand over her heart to show relief.

They knew what the question was implying.

"This may come as a surprise to you all, but we actually aren't," Bella deadpanned.

"It's true," Y/n chimed, picking at her nails in an attempt to seem uninterested, "I'm being paid to be here."

"Me too. I despise her so much," Bella grinned.

"Yeah right," Y/n nudged her, preparing to peel off another question from the board. "This one says... How did Y/n and Bella meet?"

"We met a few weeks before filming this little project called The Last of Us," Y/n started. "Maybe you've heard of it. It's not really well known or anything."

"It's remarkably underrated," Bella added with humor.

"Absolutely," Y/n gave an amused smile. "Best day of my life, though. I was so nervous."

"Were you really?" Bella raised a brow, "Because I remember it a bit differently."

"Oh my God," Y/n groaned, turning to face the camera. "You see, I kind of talked Bella's ear off the whole time."

"Kind of? Darling, I couldn't get a word in the entire night." Bella giggled.

"I'm sorry!" Y/n whined. "I just thought you were really cute. I talk way too much when I'm around cute people." 

"Then you must still think I'm cute," Bella teased her. "Because you always go on and on when we're together."

"Moving on!" Y/n sighed. "God, you're so annoying."

"You love it," Bella shook with laughter.

"Hold still!" Y/n laughed as well. "Bels, I can't read them if you're moving! Okay... This one says—oh wow. Y/n L/n and Bella Ramsey kiss."

"My goodness," Bella bursted out in giggles once again.

"That's not even a question," Y/n gave the camera a look whilst fanning the brunette, attempting to calm him down. "Someone needs to get fired for that."

"I'm assuming they meant to ask if our characters kissed on the show." Bella glanced at the crew members skeptically.

"This interview will come out after the episode airs," someone assured them.

"Oh! In that case, we did kiss, yes," stated Bella.

"Our characters did." Y/n clarified, smiling at her friend.

"Well, we kissed. But for the show, of course."

"Completely professional."

"Though we had to do it quite a few times." Bella added.

"Because someone kept 'forgetting' their lines. Definitely not on purpose," Y/n teased them.

"Wow! Way to throw me under the bus there," she pretended to be offended. "I see how it is, L/n."

"Just saying," Y/n shrugged smugly, fingers tugging off another strip.

"Did Bella Ramsey and Y/n L/n play The Last of Us?" Bella read. "Not really…I mean, prior to filming we were told not to play it, but Y/n/n and I tried to get through some of it recently."

"We didn't get very far though. Even on the easiest mode, it just never ends well." Y/n grimaced.

"Yeah, it's tough." Bella agreed. "Neither of us are gamers, so we wind up eating snacks and playing a film instead."

"Which is way less stressful!"

"Is Skipper Y/n L/n's or Bella Ramsey's dog?" Y/n said, struggling to flick away the sticker from her fingers.

Bella immediately noticed and tried helping her, but it ended up getting stuck on both of them, which earned him a small giggle from the girl.

"Despite what Y/n says, Skipper is my kid." Bella announced, successfully placing the long sticker on their chair.

"But she likes me more. I birthed her," Y/n joked.

"I won't lie—she does like to cuddle Y/n/n quite a lot. I think she gets that from me."

"She definitely gets that from you. I like when all three of us cuddle, though." Y/n smiled at the fond memories, "Anyway, I'll settle for the title of being her second mom."

"That works," Bella chuckled. "We'll co-parent her."

"Bella Ramsey and Y/n L/n laying on each other," Bella read through a heavy laugh. "Again, not a question."

"There's a thing called needing body heat, people!" Y/n said defensively.

"Right! Because Canada is incredibly cold. If you were filming in our conditions, you'd do the same." Bella spoke, hiding their face behind the board.

"Yeah, we had to stay warm somehow." Y/n added, her face heating up from the embarrassment of this topic coming up.

"Are we done now?" Bella peaked, "I feel like we've revealed a lot in this ten minute video," they joked.

"Right?!"

"I think that's it," one of the assistants said, laughing along with the team behind the camera. "And we're already shooting, so you can just give us an outro and we'll wrap this up."

"That concludes our Wired Autocomplete Interview!" Bella yelled at the same time Y/n chanted, "Thanks for watching!"

They shared a laugh, then looked back at the camera before continuing, "Make sure to check out The Last of Us." Y/n said when Bella rested their head on her shoulder.

"It's streaming right now on HBO Max," they pointed out.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we're gonna go make out!" Y/n joked, running away from the camera-frame with Bella, hand in hand.

Part Two

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x female reader #bella ramsey x reader fluff #bella ramsey x y/n #bella ramsey x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #riley abel #ellie tlou #tlou show #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #ellieriley #ellie x riley #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

[luffyvace]

Hello there hope your doing super well ~ . As request are currently open could I please headcanons with law ,sanji, zoro. +feel free to add characters. With a s/O thats super sweet to everyone almost too sweet. Also cute. But some choice to take avngenre of y/n kinddess. And once y/N found out that is all fake. They become like a sad puppy. All sad.

Thanks for your work.💙💜

I’m doing wonderful dear anon<3 thank you for asking! Oh my I’ve never written for law, I don’t know much about him because I’m still at the impel down arc in the anime soo I hope sanji and zoro will be alright~ :)

y/n sounds so sweet! They must be protected!! (Also you used s/o and y/n so I will too, in this case no pronouns will be used ♥︎)

enjoy your hcs love! And thank you for your request! (may be a bit ooc for zoro?)

RORONOA ZORO ⚔️🗡

Zoro and a cute and sweet reader!~

what an adorable oxymoron<3

you love to cuddle and curl up on top of him when he’s sleeping

He’s a big guy so he’s sure to provide warmth

zoro doesn’t get your need to help others and being so kind to people

or how helping others makes you happy

but zoro is emotionally strong—maybe not intelligent but strong

so he knows when to draw the line for you if your accidentally being overly helpful

or if your tiring yourself out/overextending yourself

he brings a sense of balance to you in that aspect

the fact that he can do that for you is comforting and makes you feel protected

which Zoro is protective of you because of how naive you are

Zoro is very wary of strangers for you

your too sweet and assume that person is just having a bad day or that’s they’re natural face

but behind you is your big scary dog (zoro) who is glaring daggers at the person he knows actually has an evil intent towards you

Zoro is there most of the time so he doesn’t let people take advantage of you

but the times he isn’t around?

once he finds out he gonna slice that person into dice and make them return whatever they had you get them, etc

he doesn’t it like it at all and can immediately tell when someone is trying to get over on you

After the situation is handled he drags you away (getting you two lost) and says

“Seriously! You needa be more careful y/n!”

he doesn’t really notice how down you are for a while

until he turns around to ask you something and you sorta have this sad puppy look on your face

”what’s wrong with you?”

he’s not gentle about it or anything but he does care

when you tell him it’s because your sad that everyone your kind to betrays you his protectiveness heightens

”what do you wanna impress those people for when you have the world's greatest swordsman..”

he kinda muttered it to himself

but you heard and immediately perked up

you clang onto his arm and walked all the way back to the sunny like that

(might I mention it took a while since Zoro was leading..you knew the way but you decided to just let him ���‍♀️😂💗)

Zoro overall does appreciate what you do for him and the crew tho

how you count his push-ups and bring him the drinks/food you asked sanji to make him

it doesn’t go unnoticed so don’t worry :)

as far as y/n being cute he doesn’t notice every time

or have a big reaction when he does

he only blushes a little sometimes, again, when he notices

it’s easier to make him bashful than it is to make him blush with a cute face/smile

He does think your innocence is a bit cute tho!

…..along with naive, but still cute!

”seriously..how come your always getting yourself into trouble” (he blushes a little and turns his face away, pouting slightly)

VINSMOKE SANJI🧑‍🍳

Sanji x such a sweetheart reader is practically meant to be!!

Your both equally sweet and serving

especially sanji since he was raised in an environment where he had to serve people

you guys always insist on helping each other

your love languages are most definitely acts of service and quality time

you two do each other favors all day

”let me help you!”

”no I’ve got it sit down, relax!”

that conversation goes both ways between the two of you multiple times a day

Sanji loves to cook for you so ask him any time of day!

he never has a problem with it and wants to do it actually!

You two are equally emotional people and probably empathic

you guys feel for other people so you feel the urge to help those in need

your weakness is being too kind and his is being too much of a gentleman

you guys are actually really similar in a sense

which you all don’t mind because you can relate to each other

sanji however knows when to take a break

not to say that you don’t but you just tend to overwork yourself for other people’s sake

to which sanji puts a stop to :)

he runs you hot baths, massages your shoulders and washes your hair

You do the same for him since you’d feel bad if you didn’t

he very much appreciates this

its not every day someone takes care of him

you guys then eat the delicious hot meal he prepared and snuggle up, falling asleep together

You guys also take the chance for vacation every time you see one

Pirates have to be prepared for the worst of adventures on every island

so as soon as you see the opportunity to relax you two leap to have a fun beach day

sanji is absolutely a SIMP for how cute you are

he is SO fond over you and is always gushing and bragging (to zoro) how cute his s/o is

like literally he doesn’t shut up about how adorable you are!

a cute lady with a sweet personality??

yes please.

He definitely warns you after the first few times he sees you getting taken advantage of

it’s a sweet and gentle chat about the dangers in the world and how you can’t trust everyone

even if you don’t trust them! set boundaries and don’t let them walk all over you!

if you feel too many bad people are around don’t give them the benefit of the doubt! find a straw hat and stick with them!!

”y/n-Chan you’ve gotta use your discernment to see who is being mean and who is worthy to trust..!”

like yes some strangers are kind but some will see how sweet you are and use that against you!

absolutely does not let a man take advantage of you and will immediately kick him away

with a women tho he will probably go get robin or nami

maybe even simply take you away and let it go if it’s just a regular woman

but if it’s a pirate who’s trying to back you into a corner yeah he’s for sure getting the straw hat girls

he will offer himself instead and tell you to go get someone from back on the merry/sunny

Or maybe if you can fight he’ll root for you!

not that he likes that fact that another woman is being hurt in the process..

but if he has to choose between his woman and another one that was disrespecting his woman??

”GO MY BEAUTIFUL Y/N-CHWAAAAAN!!!”

as for sad puppy y/n he notices right away and immediately does whatever he can to cheer you up again

he bakes you sweets, runs you a bath, makes you drinks, makes you laugh, buys you whatever you want just to see you smile

and again if it was a guy who did this to you he’s 100% getting the boot 💥💥

your sure to cheer up soon with all that sanji does for you

especially with his warm cuddles n kissses ♡

thank you once again for your requests my love! Today is a very busy day..I have a lot to get out.. 😅

Overall I hope you enjoyed your hcs!

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #anime headcanons #fluff headcanons #fluff #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #straw hat pirates #op anime #one piece anime #zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #straw hat sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #sanji and zoro #zoro and sanji

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #notes from the writing raven #question #tw//depression #tw//suicidal ideation #tw//suicide #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Cheka Kingscholar #Falena Kingscholar #Farena Kingscholar #tw//substance abuse #tw//dieting #Jamil Viper #Idia Shroud #Ruggie Bucchi #Jack Howl #Savanaclaw #tw//homophobia

[quixtrix]

dolph was always meant to be doomed; something of an analysis

i'm on my third rewatch of captain laserhawk, and on this one i've been focusing more on the little details that you don't get on your first or even second time watching it. i've noticed little things, such as pey'j helping and then going on to shield a hybrid who's dressed similarly to jade in the third episode. but i've also noticed bigger things, such as alex and dolph.

keep in mind that this show is just filled to the brim with political messaging, it was purposefully designed that way. so when someone mentioned on here that alex was an accelerationist, it explained a lot. we don't know much about alex in terms of his backstory, we only know he helped dolph after dolph attempted to mug him and they ended up falling in love. it's also implied that alex and dolph have been repeatedly reported on the news as terrorists more than we've seen, with rayman referring to them as being the usual suspects when the kaiju attack happened, despite dolph literally not even being there when alex did that shit. they're known to do this shit, and we know alex is a charismatic guy. it's not too far fetched to say once or while dolph was falling in love with this gayass white saviour saint that alex talked him into this shit for alex's own purposes. because yes, he has a cause, but he's also a bit in over his head, maybe with power. he's aware of the power he has over dolph, how he actively uses the 'i love you' card multiple times when they're together and when they're not together. he just had a bit too much confidence in his hold over dolph, but to be fair, alex, you were topping some indulgent mob boss for your cause (because let's be honest of course your sources would be tight if they were being fucked for it) then continued fucking said mob boss and got caught with your dick out by your ex who you think you can get back with. alex uses people as tools, he just doesn't put his shit in the right places at the right times.

i'm getting off track, but the point i'm getting to is that alex most definitely saw dolph, a man who clearly has some jacked up eden tech smacked onto his twink ass, at his lowest, and picked him up like a shiny new toy. he was always going to use dolph. but how come dolph is so easy to use? he's starved for kindness. he's the stray dog that comes up to you at restaurants to act all nonchalant because 95% of the time he gets neglected, but the second he gets offered scraps, he shows how hungry he is. we don't know much about his childhood, and what we do know is under the lenses of literal eden propaganda. we do however know how people get like underneath the hand of eden.

everyone say thanks to rayman, who concidentally, is dolph's foil. both of them worked under eden as their lap dogs, one as a propagandist and the other as military, but dolph had gotten out of the hold the propaganda had on him while rayman's barely shaking it off. both of them are also portrayed as poor little tragic immigrants and the impoverished stand ins both in universe and story wise. they're the feel good picking yourself up american dream stories that people can feel inspired by or feel proud about the country with. dolph had a photo with a kid holding a doll of him. before he became ex military, he was definitely the guy they paraded around as a previous lost cause that eden helped. red, who's as political as his assigned colour, bitches about identity politics in that one off line for a reason. he also jus hates brown people fr he kicked me down a flight of stairs

now we can assume that dolph had picked himself up out of the propaganda machine somehow. he realised he was used and he didn't want that shit. he's attempting to get himself his own life, for fucks sake. he jus happened to get lead on by the wrong guy, which then lead him to get used by eden AGAIN. this time not only in a physical way via soldier work, but emotionally too, with sarah easily manipulating him with what? a sob story and helping him out, maybe being friendly with him along the way.

he wants a normal life. he wants a goddamn normal life. he jus continues to be selected as a tool.

you can see how fucking starved he is for kindness. you ever think about the fact that in his dream life, he sees jade and pey'j? he knew these people for less than a week, yet they get a place in his dream life. most notably, jade gets a speaking role in his dream life. the only other person who speaks, besides marcus, is alex, someone who had known him and shown kindness to him. jade has also shown kindness to dolph. she's the friendliest face there in the ghosts, being the first one to check on dolph when he wakes up, offers an explanation to him, and also makes an effort to include him in her little shenanigans with the video and all!! dolph was all emo alpha wolf and all, but despite his constant cold shoulder, she was kind!!

there was someone who was more than kind though; bullfrog. because bullfrog actively looked out for dolph, despite his constant pushback against bullfrogs advice whenever they weren't separated. and in the end, it's bullfrogs kindness and compassion that hits dolph the deepest. dolph gets out of his depressive state to go back for bullfrog. he cares about people, he goes out of his way to do shit for the people who show him the slightest bit of kindness. he backed up sarah after one good conversation with her to marcus for fucks sake. dolph is just a guy who keeps getting used though. he's so loyal to anyone who looks his way that it's a fatal flaw that ends up with his head blown up. he's a shakespearean tragedy at the moment. i hope in the potential season 2 that he gets to have more moments where he gets to be his own person. not defined by an organisation or a person or a cause, but what he chooses to define himself by. he's on his way there. he jus deserves to be allowed to live for himself. after all, he has already met his end of that story. he can make a new one.

anyways if u reached the end of this im down to discuss this :D i also did get a few points from other people on here, but let me know what u think nd all

#SORRY THIS WAS A RANT #A LOT OF YAPPING #i jus have a lot of thoughts about dolph #i adore him #he deserves so much #and i hate how he gets overlooked IN HIS OWN SHOW #dolph laserhawk #captain laserhawk #rayman #character analysis #sorry guys very passionate abt my boyfriend #alex taylor #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain laserhawk jade #pey'j