#its not good by my standards but i want to write again

[tachyon-omlette]

finally, the second installment of Eda interacting with @cuppajj's Lost Light titanformer. it's not as long as the first part, I think, but I had this specific scene in my head and badly wanted to write it despite not having the energy or competence for the longest time. hopefully I did alright.

•••

Though the Lost Light and its crew had been at veritable rest for quite some time now on a strange planetoid within the deep reaches of space, the sole inhabitant of the small world seemed unbothered by their presence, if not somewhat welcoming. He was, for the admittedly short time since he’d approached the co-Captains and crew, predominantly antisocial, but he’d made it known that their often rambunctious company was burdensome to neither himself nor his home.

His home was very strange. One could swear the lightless asteroid possessed a faint aura, one that often seemed to soothe the more restless crewmembers and keep nearly everyone at ease in such a way that did not feel intrusive or inherently unnatural, if one did not think about it too hard. Spirits remained at a constant yet not manic high, and by that metric the prospect of leaving was not something that many had yet considered.

With any luck, that was destined to change.

There was one particular cycle that everything seemed... off. It began very subtly, that aura of comfort dulling down over the course of several hours until it became more of a haze, something that made the constant night seem darker and weighed down every spark with fragments of their burdens which had gone unaddressed and unresolved.

Even the ship’s ever-cheerful cartographer, Lightlost, seemed plagued by that unseen force - and was one of the few to notice that Eda was nowhere to be found. Even though the crew was spread across the planetoid, no one had seen him at all.

"Lightlost."

Until, of course, they themselves were sought out.

"You are a cartographer, yes?"

Lightlost turned - his voice had come from behind - and faced a very dour Eda, his sporting whimsy and near-constant grin both absent. He likely was not exempt from the effects of the strange planetoid, either.

"I am," they responded.

"Then perhaps these are something you might appreciate," followed Eda, offering a rather large cylindrical carrying case that seemed a proper size in his hand, but in truth was nearly as tall as Lightlost. "It is yours, if you want it."

Lightlost took the tube - it seemed strangely old, so they held it gently despite its size - and with some effort unscrewed the top. Inside was a sheet of metal, thin enough to be rolled up for storage yet sturdy enough that when Lightlost extracted it from the tube it proved difficult to unroll, so much so that Eda had to assist momentarily, and it was an effort to prevent it from springing closed again.

When it finally was unrolled, however, it proved a rather intriguing sight. It was a star chart, centralized largely around Cybertron and labeled in Primal Vernacular, with a few crudely-scratched corrections and notations in a glyphic language Lightlost did not recognize. Due to its sheer size, it took a moment before they recognized how old this chart was, and markings they first assumed were simply incorrect were in truth heavily outdated; none of the colony worlds were included because it predated them outright.

This was a map, yes, but it was first and foremost a priceless Cybertronian artifact in near-perfect condition, and Eda was giving it away - giving it to Lightlost - without so much as a second thought.

"Wh..." they began, nearly lost for words. "Where did you get this?"

"Trion fashioned it for my personal use, though I have never found a reason for it," Eda stated flatly. "To have consulted with any of the others posed a great personal risk, but he was a scribe, not an astronomer. I could manage far better without it."

Trion. As in Alpha Trion. As in one of the First Thirteen.

"H- You... I-" Lightlost stammered, countless questions and conclusions running through their processor, overwhelmed with the gravity of the gift they'd been so casually, almost flagrantly given. They were caught between how did you know the Primes and what were you doing on Cybertron and if you once lived on Cybertron why do you now live here, but for the moment could only stare slack-jawed at the ancient star chart.

Eda seemed to deflate further at their reaction. "Forgive me, if this is not to your liking-"

"This belongs in a museum, Eda!" Lightlost exclaimed, thrusting the map towards Eda but stopping short of touching his frame, fearful they might damage it despite its durability. "I can't accept this!"

That, judging from how he recoiled slightly, optics widening, was not the reaction he had expected.

"I am... honored?" Eda began, caught off guard and bewildered. "I was unaware that any of my impedimenta could possess such value."

Then he gently pushed the map back towards Lightlost, expression softening in the wake of his surprise.

"Perhaps that is all the more reason it belongs in your custody; there is no one who could care for or appreciate it as you will. You may do as you wish with it, so long as its fate is yours to decide.”

As Eda spoke, he gently took the edges of the map where Lightlost still held them, and guided the metal sheet back into its prior cylindrical conformation, making sure it did not snap closed and that Lightlost maintained their hold upon it as he did so.

Lightlost looked at the rolled-up map, honored and humbled and awed almost beyond words, then looked back up at Eda.

"Thank you," they said, after a moment. "I will do my best to be worthy of your trust."

They could have sworn his initial reaction was one of incalculable distress, but then at last Eda smiled - and he seemed so melancholy, verging on sorrowful, something profoundly genuine on a level Lightlost rarely witnessed.

"You are too kind," he said.

---

Later that evening, when the majority of the crew either had returned to their rooms or still lingered at Swerve's, Lightlost's thoughts drifted back to earlier - predominantly, to all their unanswered questions.

They glanced at Eda's star chart - theirs, now - across the room. As soon as Lightlost had decided where they wanted it hung, Eda had instantly offered to help, holding it in place as Lightlost affixed it to the wall and covered it with a large armorglass panel (as it was in a public area, and though Lightlost cared immensely for their crew they were not ignorant to their occasionally rapacious tendencies). Everyone had seemed fascinated and amazed by it, kept asking where it came from to which they answered it was a gift from Eda, and for quite awhile Eda was subsequently hounded with inquiries not only for more of his belongings but also how he came to have them... which was a good question. If he'd known the Primes, that made him easily older than the vast majority of the crew. Was he older than the Primes, even?

Their optics were drawn to where Alpha Trion's mapping was intersected with those odd notations. They could not read what the glyphs said, but Lightlost could tell they were corrections, written by someone else; if it was Eda's map, perhaps he had written them? How did he have such knowledge of the stars prior to early Cybertronian expansionism - or were they written afterwards, in which case, was that how he'd found this place? What had led him to live here, of all places, instead of Cybertron or one of the colonies - and why was he alone?

It was amidst these questions that Lightlost at last recognized that the haze about the planetoid, which had earlier beleaguered themselves and the crew, had inexorably lifted - and they realized it traced back to moments after the spirits of planetoid's sole inhabitant had themselves been lifted. When his mood had improved, it seemed, the rest of the small world had followed suit, as if his mood alone determined the effects imposed on everyone else...

Who is Eda, really?

#transformers #maccadam #transformers oc #oc: eda of unicron #lost light #tachyon-writes #again i get unconfident about my ability to characterize ll properly #but i feel like theyd be sort of inquisitive? pursuit of knowledge type thing #especially when its about some cryptic dude with ancient cybertronian artifacts hes willing to gift away #who lives on a planetoid they didnt know about in a sector of space theyd been to at least once before #yes this does continue off of my first fic (I barely referenced my first fic for this so if there are inconsistencies I apologize) #this was a lil challenging to write but overall very fun & sort of satisfying #i hope it holds up to the standard set by the first installment. i did my absolute best i promise /gen #wanted to push the mystery aspect a lil further this time & i hope i did a good job with it

[thanatoseyes]

I haven't been interested in romance novels since I was in highschool and was completely enamoured by Sherrilyn Kenyon's work. And I don't think anything can compare to that. Acheron is my favorite and his book made me cry.

#im asexual so i skipped the sex scenes because just reading them gives me second hand embarrassment and i feel uncomfortable #but i always liked the writing and the strong characters #ugh im never gonna find a high like that again #point being i found a romance novel that looks interesting called pestilence and i read the first chapter and the writing is really good #but i am also just weary #because i have a bitch of a high standard for romance novels #like idk man idk #im just not a romance girly #like dont get me wrong i love love love a good romance but i like the story and the characters #and i feel like a lot of stuff is overhyped #idk like i feel like booktok is obsessed with spice #and im just here like give me a good ass book #its in my cart. . . im debating just waiting till the weekend and picking it up at the store #i dont want to support jeff and his products

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Lies, damned lies, and Uber

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 10-11), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!

Uber lies about everything, especially money. Oh, and labour. Especially labour. And geometry. Especially geometry! But especially especially money. They constantly lie about money.

Uber are virtuosos of mendacity, but in Toronto, the company has attained a heretofore unseen hat-trick: they told a single lie that is dramatically, materially untruthful about money, labour and geometry! It's an achievement for the ages.

Here's how they did it.

For several decades, Toronto has been clobbered by the misrule of a series of far-right, clownish mayors. This was the result of former Ontario Premier Mike Harris's great gerrymander of 1998, when the city of Toronto was amalgamated with its car-dependent suburbs. This set the tone for the next quarter-century, as these outlying regions – utterly dependent on Toronto for core economic activity and massive subsidies to pay the unsustainable utility and infrastructure bills for sprawling neighborhoods of single-family homes – proceeded to gut the city they relied on.

These "conservative" mayors – the philanderer, the crackhead, the sexual predator – turned the city into a corporate playground, swapping public housing and rent controls for out-of-control real-estate speculation and trading out some of the world's best transit for total car-dependency. As part of that decay, the city rolled out the red carpet for Uber, allowing the company to put as many unlicensed taxis as they wanted on the city's streets.

Now, it's hard to overstate the dire traffic situation in Toronto. Years of neglect and underinvestment in both the roads and the transit system have left both in a state of near collapse and it's not uncommon for multiple, consecutive main arteries to shut down without notice for weeks, months, or, in a few cases, years. The proliferation of Ubers on the road – driven by desperate people trying to survive the city's cost-of-living catastrophe – has only exacerbated this problem.

Uber, of course, would dispute this. The company insists – despite all common sense and peer-reviewed research – that adding more cars to the streets alleviates traffic. This is easily disproved: there just isn't any way to swap buses, streetcars, and subways for cars. The road space needed for all those single-occupancy cars pushes everything further apart, which means we need more cars, which means more roads, which means more distance between things, and so on.

It is an undeniable fact that geometry hates cars. But geometry loathes Uber. Because Ubers have all the problems of single-occupancy vehicles, and then they have the separate problem that they just end up circling idly around the city's streets, waiting for a rider. The more Ubers there are on the road, the longer each car ends up waiting for a passenger:

https://www.sfgate.com/technology/article/Uber-Lyft-San-Francisco-pros-cons-ride-hailing-13841277.php

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After years of bumbling-to-sinister municipal rule, Toronto finally reclaimed its political power and voted in a new mayor, Olivia Chow, a progressive of long tenure and great standing (I used to ring doorbells for her when she was campaigning for her city council seat). Mayor Chow announced that she was going to reclaim the city's prerogative to limit the number of Ubers on the road, ending the period of Uber's "self-regulation."

Uber, naturally, lost its shit. The company claims to be more than a (geometrically impossible) provider of convenient transportation for Torontonians, but also a provider of good jobs for working people. And to prove it, the company has promised to pay its drivers "120% of minimum wage." As I write for Ricochet, that's a whopper, even by Uber's standards:

https://ricochet.media/en/4039/uber-is-lying-again-the-company-has-no-intention-of-paying-drivers-a-living-wage

Here's the thing: Uber is only proposing to pay 120% of the minimum wage while drivers have a passenger in the vehicle. And with the number of vehicles Uber wants on the road, most drivers will be earning nothing most of the time. Factor in that unpaid time, as well as expenses for vehicles, and the average Toronto Uber driver stands to make $2.50 per hour (Canadian):

https://ridefair.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Legislated-Poverty.pdf

Now, Uber's told a lot of lies over the years. Right from the start, the company implicitly lied about what it cost to provide an Uber. For its first 12 years, Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar it brought in, lighting tens of billions in investment capital provided by the Saudi royals on fire in an effort to bankrupt rival transportation firms and disinvestment in municipal transit.

Uber then lied to retail investors about the business-case for buying its stock so that the House of Saud and other early investors could unload their stock. Uber claimed that they were on the verge of producing a self-driving car that would allow them to get rid of drivers, zero out their wage bill, and finally turn a profit. The company spent $2.5b on this, making it the most expensive Big Store in the history of cons:

https://www.theinformation.com/articles/infighting-busywork-missed-warnings-how-uber-wasted-2-5-billion-on-self-driving-cars

After years, Uber produced a "self-driving car" that could travel one half of one American mile before experiencing a potentially lethal collision. Uber quietly paid another company $400m to take this disaster off its hands:

https://www.economist.com/business/2020/12/10/why-is-uber-selling-its-autonomous-vehicle-division

The self-driving car lie was tied up in another lie – that somehow, automation could triumph over geometry. Robocabs, we were told, would travel in formations so tight that they would finally end the Red Queen's Race of more cars – more roads – more distance – more cars. That lie wormed its way into the company's IPO prospectus, which promised retail investors that profitability lay in replacing every journey – by car, cab, bike, bus, tram or train – with an Uber ride:

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUSKCN1RN2SK/

The company has been bleeding out money ever since – though you wouldn't know it by looking at its investor disclosures. Every quarter, Uber trumpets that it has finally become profitable, and every quarter, Hubert Horan dissects its balance sheets to find the accounting trick the company thought of this time. There was one quarter where Uber declared profitability by marking up the value of stock it held in Uber-like companies in other countries.

How did it get this stock? Well, Uber tried to run a business in those countries and it was such a total disaster that they had to flee the country, selling their business to a failing domestic competitor in exchange for stock in its collapsing business. Naturally, there's no market for this stock, which, in Uber-land, means you can assign any value you want to it. So that one quarter, Uber just asserted that the stock had shot up in value and voila, profit!

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-twenty-nine-despite-massive-price-increases-uber-losses-top-31-billion.html

But all of those lies are as nothing to the whopper that Uber is trying to sell to Torontonians by blanketing the city in ads: the lie that by paying drivers $2.50/hour to fill the streets with more single-occupancy cars, they will turn a profit, reduce the city's traffic, and provide good jobs. Uber says it can vanquish geometry, economics and working poverty with the awesome power of narrative.

In other words, it's taking Toronto for a bunch of suckers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

Image: Rob Sinclair (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_skyline_of_Toronto_May_2009.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #uber #hubert horan #fraud #toronto #geometry hates cars #urbanism #ontpoli #olivia chow #self-regulation #transport #urban planning #taxis #transit #urban theory #labor #algorithmic wage discrimination #veena dubal

[kcrossvine-art]

haiiii dungeon delvers! This is a quick one, gratefully both the materials and the dish-type are very close to their real life inspiration :D

As we speak, my favorite catgirl bestfolk is getting introduced to the anime and you haven no idea how much self control its taken to not immediately jump forward to be in sync with her, but theres SO many good recipes before we get there!!!

We will be making a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet today!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts made from the egg of a basilisk, which isnt a large chicken egg but instead a large snake egg. Oblong shape, soft leather texture, and no eggwhites just yolk.

A large daikon

½ lbs fatty bacon

Shallots

Garlic

Chicken eggs

Salt

Pepper

Arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

You could try cooking this using actual snake eggs, but theyre hard to come by and reportedly quite bland compared to chicken eggs. I tried getting my hands on an ostrich egg for the pizzaz of it all. The zoo lady was kind in her dismissal.

AND, “what does a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKOmelettes are standard fair but here we cook them like a french omelette and wrap it up like a burrito at the end.

Wetter eggs than im used to ( <- american)

Daikon and bacon r very tasty together

They end up having the same texture almost

Intensely savory. Heavy on the tummy

Chopped green onions would bring more levity to the filling

Ketchup pairs well

(but i prefer medium hot sauce)

Dark coffee pairs well

The acidity of the above 3 is what makes them work with this nutrient Dense dish

. In the show, decapitated mandrakes are more bitter than mandrakes left 'whole'. If you want that difference, using sweet/sour sauce on some of the daikon while it cooks will make the non-sauced daikon seem bitter by comparison. . Maybe ferment daikon too? . Adding a small amount of water with the bacon transfers the heat evenly, a small amount as to cook off before the fat/grease renders. Could also try cooking in the oven.

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

"Consisting of a fluffy Basilisk egg omelet filled with minced Basilisk bacon and mandrake.If the mandrake used was killed with its 'head' still attached, it will be less bitter and more mellow" This dish is important as it marks the beginning of Senshi and Marcilles bonding, and the lead-up gives us our first glance into the school Falin and Marcille met at. Objectively the recipe is basic but it was challenging to write out.

Omelette making is muscle-memory, so having to learn the french variation and slow down felt like trying to ride a bike side-saddled.

It took about an hour and a half from laying out the ingredients, to eating the finished thing. I had to take a break in the middle of cutting veggies as my wrists are flaring up, so you could probably go faster unimpeded.

What would you rate this recipe out of 10?(with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 large daikon, chopped

½ lbs fatty bacon, chopped

2 shallots

3 cloves of garlic

3 Eggs

Salt

Pepper

Some arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

Method:

Chop your bacon into roughly ½ inch squares. Cut off the ends of your daikon and cube the rest. Thinly dice your shallots and crush your garlic cloves.

Bring a cast iron skillet to medium-high heat. Once at temp, carefully add your chopped bacon to the pan with a very small amount of water.

Add your chopped bacon and stir-fry until almost cooked.

Add your shallots and garlic. Cook for about a minute or until the shallots have softened.

Transfer the bacon, shallot, and garlic mix to a bowl. Set aside. Lower the cast iron skillet to medium heat.

Place your daikon cubes in the cast iron skillet, you should still have enough bacon grease. Add salt and cook until lightly browned on each side.

Add roughly 1 tablespoon of water. Lower heat and cover. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Once your daikon are softened, transfer to same bowl containing your bacon, shallots, and garlic.

Crack your eggs into a seperate bowl and whisk for 2 minutes until 'frothy' with no egg whites visible.

Bring the cast iron skillet back up to medium heat. There might not be enough bacon grease left, so feel free to add butter! If the butter browns you've gone too hot.

Pour your eggs into the skillet. Use a spatula to spread the eggs, scraping down the sides of the pan. Sprinkle salt and pepper in, to taste.

Once your eggs are mostly solid, pour the bacon, shallot, garlic, and daikon filling into the center. If it starts to separate- stop touching and let it rest. Gently fold the edges of the omelette overtop the filling.

Lay a few pieces of arugula on a plate, and flip your omelette onto it :) enjoy!

#dungeon meshi #food recipes #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #digital art

[satoruhour]

oh my god, i dont know if you write for this specifically (feel free to disregard if you don’t), but I’ve been thinking about satosugu x reader,,, imagine kissing the both of them!! spending a nice summer day with them!! just being able to enjoy spending time with the two of them!! I dont know if its my love for both of these characters and their relationship, but i just like thinking abt that dynamic,,,

a/n: wrote this yesterday to upload today since it was a loaded day today ❤️ enjoy. hope it’s up to standard cause i havent written fluff in a long time! / 1.3k, poly!satosugu x reader

sleep-ins were popular amongst the three of you. before you, suguru had his own routine of waking up early to brew some tea for himself, to get the laundry going . .

satoru, on his own, was a light sleeper, sitting straight up at any hint of sound due to his sorcerer duties but after moving in with geto, he’s been letting the long-haired man to do all the work.

and here came you, waltzing back into their lives (and apartment) after teaching at kyoto for just a few months until you couldn’t stand gakuganji and headed right back to your alma mater.

it wasn’t difficult to maintain the dynamic the three of you had from your school days, except maybe unspoken feelings and lingering glances until the two men were gassing each other up to ask you.

you’re not even sure how you even got roped in — old feelings, a crave for the younger days, the allure of satoru, the wonder of suguru — but now you’re stick in between both of them wanting to pee so badly.

alas, your body is trapped under gojo’s protective leg and geto’s gentler wrapped arm, but you still feel your bladder about to burst, trying one last time until your body is slammed back into bed.

“hm . . what’re you doing?” is gojo’s first raspy call out to you as he curls his calf around you even more, and you sigh, turning to him to brush his fringe from his face.

“i need to pee, satoru.”

“no.” and you roll your eyes because he’s always whiny like that and you’d usually employ suguru to do your bidding but he’s fast asleep, still. this was another thing: both you and gojo have inextricably fucked with his routine because now he’s more inclined to sleep in than drink his morning tea. he realised this one day when he was doing laundry, in the afternoon.

“’toru, pleeaasee?” you pout even if he can’t see and like a good boyfriend, he senses your features pulled into a face specifically meant to make him feel bad, and cracks his eyes open.

“oh, youuuu—” gojo scrunches up his eyes and squeezes, and then steals you from geto’s arm, trapping you with tight arms wound around your middle, “stop it with the eyes!”

you giggle, using your free hands to relax the tightness in his brows, using that opportunity to forcibly open his eyes and then you hit him again — knitted eyebrows and doe eyes, and a perfect pout that has gojo grumbling under his breath. silently, you wiggle yourself just enough to reach his face so you can place a peck on his lips and he hums.

another, his eyes say and you indulge him, sinking into his embrace and letting him guide you back to his mouth. morning breath is nothing to the both of you, grinning into the kiss when satoru loses himself and his embrace starts to loosen. the kiss still holds you captive, though, the other moaning softly when you deepen it with some tongue.

“you’re just going to leave me hangin’?” geto’s voice calls out from beside you, and gojo’s excited suguru! gives you just that sliver of time to slip away from the two as they catch up but—

“you’re not going anywhere, missus,” gojo pulls on your arm and you’re falling back into your space in the middle of the both of them, greeted with geto’s lovely laugh and his gentle gaze.

“good morning my loves,” he says, arm draped over the both of you before he leans down to give you a kiss while gojo replies with a good morning as well, also giving a peck to your temple. “what’s on the agenda today?”

“lazing in—”

“i need to pee, firstly,” you pipe up, cutting gojo off and patting his puffed out cheeks. grabbing his face, you wiggle his head just to emphasise your point, “your man here has been preventing me from going to the bathroom.”

“ahem! our man,” gojo corrects, sticking his tongue out just enough to lick your hand and you shriek in disgust while his giggles only fill the room.

“satoru, c’mon, let her go.” and again, the other only cuddles you closer to him, long, lanky limbs trapping your body. geto has a hand on yours like he’s trying his best to console you.

“but— she’s so much nicer to cuddle! did i ever tell you suguru once hit me in the face with his arm?”

and you laugh while the other only sighs and chaos erupts once he stands up and says in faux disappointment — “okay, i’m making breakfast for myself only. guess i lost two partners today.”

“hello?! i didn’t even do anything!” you shout in incredulity, words muffled once gojo slaps a hand over your mouth and laughs, watching through the bathroom mirror at how he chuckles at the both of you. you lick gojo’s hand and he moans obnoxiously.

geto did end up making the both of you some breakfast after some convincing (it was mostly gojo yelling “pleasepleaseplease” in the bathroom and interrupting brushing teeth time), but he’s got around it with a sloppy kiss given to the both of you, sat at the wooden table you commissioned — large enough to bring friends over but small enough for it to feel intimate with your two boyfriends.

“on the real agenda, we need to go for some grocery shopping,” geto suggests, reaching diagonally to you to wipe off the bits of strawberry lingering at the corner of your lips and gojo shouts a loud oh!, running from the table to grab his phone that he’s left on the bedside table. naturally, he has become so enamoured with the both of you that he doesn’t even need his phone to entertain him that much.

“i made the list like you asked, sugu,” and you’re giggling when you see his eyebrow raise, positive that on the list, there was more of what the house didn’t need than what it did.

silently, you’re helping to clear all three of your plates that had coatings of maple syrup on it, apart from gojo’s who licked his squeaky clean. a smile spreads across your face when you hear them bicker, a common occurrence.

“baby, there’s more candy than actual groceries on here.”

“but suguruuuu . .” gojo pulls this all the time and it hardly works on geto any more, so the both of them invade your cleaning escapades to argue. like the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, satoru sucks up to your boyfriend, suguru appeals to you.

“should we listen to him?” leaning against the counter, geto rests his arm around your torso, sidling right up to your face who only gives him a small grin.

gojo follows suit. “sweetness, don’t listen to him. you know you love the sweets i buy, i’ll even buy you your favourite brand!”

here in this kitchen in the house that gojo had no problem expanding to accommodate the both of you were all that you know in this mess of a world, destined to exorcise curses for as long as you live, but it wasn’t so bad when you had the strongest duo beside you, talking over each other on whether meiji chocolate was more important than buying celery for tonight’s dinner. 

“boys.” turning off the tap, you shake off the water and turn around in their arms only to see what had escalated: geto ready to summon a curse, gojo crossing his fingers in his muryōkūsho pose, all the while keeping an arm around you like everything’s fine. and as chaotic dating the both of them were, you don’t mind putting both their hands down and calming the situation down.

with a laugh, you give one kiss to both cheeks. “let’s just buy both, okay?”

and satoru leaps to hug you, planting endless kisses on your face while suguru sighs, then smiles, defeated. “plus, we can just make ’toru pay for everything, can’t we?”

“and then make him cook tonight.” you suggest, not-so-quietly.

gojo stops, “hey!”

i didnt write the grocery shopping part since i alr rambled off about it here but maybe next time we’ll see :)

#satosugu x reader #suguru x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #getou fluff #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader

[itsfairly]

A Little Tense // Nanami Kento x f!reader

word count: 3.1k

cw: f!reader, female anatomy, explicit language at the beginning, smut (very brief), fluff, established relationship, reader unable to hit the big O, nanami being a gentleman and setting the standard, petnames (sweetheart, good girl, love, angel) self-indulgent, not proofread.

summary: when having sex with your love leaves you more tense than relaxed, nanami decides to ease that tension in a different and much innocent way.

notes: tmi, you can guess about what. lets hope my motivation to write stays because i keep getting too many ideas and not enough energy.

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

You were wet, practically dripping onto the sheets with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping every time his hips met yours filled the room, along with the wet squelches from your cunt as it relished the feeling of being completely full. Sex with Nanami was always amazing. He knew where and how to touch, when to make you wait and beg for him, and when to give in to you and spoil you completely so that every time your legs wrapped around his waist like this you could feel how your body tensed beyond its limits only to make said tension disappear soon after.

Tonight, you two have been at it for a while. Feeling his hands roam your body with his tongue lazily popped in and out of your pussy and your legs hooked on his shoulders one moment, and the next bouncing on his lap as the air was punched out of your lungs and earning sweet nothings from Nanami. You're not sure how long it has been and neither of you cared when your moans mixed together in sweet synchrony and each position felt better than the next as his attention shifted to different parts of your body—tongue swirling circles around your perked nipples with a satisfied hum as he looked up at you, hands squeezing your waist to guide your pace met with an "easy there, sweetheart," lips finding your neck to press the sweetest kisses followed by a quick playful bite, fingers rubbing over your folds but not going in just yet. His attention was entirely on you and how to wash your body over with pleasure no matter how long it took.

He was doing everything right, not just with his body, but also his voice. The sounds that left his lips were already heavenly, grunting as your body met his with every thrust and moaning every time you squeezed around him, but his words were just as good.

Good girl, keep moaning for me.

I can't wait, I want to feel you around me.

Fuck, need to make you feel good, love. I'll spend all night to make you feel good.

Despite your body being aroused like never before, your mind didn't seem to follow.

It was by no means Nanami's fault. He was following along what you both knew of your body. Trailing kisses on your neck and being extra attentive when he reached your soft spot by biting it gently, licking over the spot, and nibbling on it; keeping just the right angle of his hips against yours so that you could feel his curve hitting your G-spot, and of course, being ever so kind to moan and grunt loud enough for your ears to catch knowing the effect his voice has on you. But lately, your body and your mind didn't seem to connect. Even if the mood was just perfect, the dimmed light illuminating your bedroom and the way your bodies moved caused the bed to gently rock, no matter what position or move from him, it didn't seem to be doing it for you now. At least not to the point of orgasm.

You didn't know it was wrong and it was making you more frustrated and tense, the opposite of what you wanted right now. You have tried many positions for one night and neither of them has brought you past the edge, making you more impatient in a way that wasn't even from how good you felt—it was from how awful it felt being so close to the edge but not quite there yet, over and over again.

Soon, your thoughts take you away from the current moment, stuck trying to figure out what was being so difficult right now, and Nanami picks up on that. Deciding that enough was enough, his hips press against yours one more time and tries to catch his breath as he looks down on you.

"We should stop."

You snap out of your thoughts with his voice, breathy and raspy, from what you assume was exhaustion. You don't blame him, after all, he's been focusing on coming up with whatever would make you feel as good as you were making him feel, all those efforts amounting to practically nothing and making you feel guilty when his voice sounds firm in his decision.

"No," you placed your hands on his arms, looking up at him with a frown, easily read as frustration. Just not at him. "Kento, I can-"

"I don't enjoy it if you don't. I'm not going to continue just for me," he says sternly as he cuts you off, his eyes looking at you warmly as he breathes heavily. He wouldn't be selfish like that.

Yet, the way his words came out made it easy for you to put more guilt on yourself, feeling like you were depriving him of an obvious need his body craved. "I can't just let you not get off just because I can't, especially when we've been going at it for a while."

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly, shifting his weight to his arm and bringing his other hand to your cheek to caress it. "You don't have to feel like you need to compensate me. These things happen and you would've done the same for me, why can't I do it for you?"

You sigh, throwing your head down on the mattress. You felt awful. Even if he was trying to assure you that it was no problem to stop, you didn't like the fact that one, you couldn't get yourself to orgasm no matter how much you tried to concentrate, and two, that prevented him from orgasm. He was very patient this whole time and it felt like your body and mind weren't cooperating.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out, that frustrated frown still present on your face.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart."

"It feels like it. It's not like it didn't feel good, it's just..." God, it felt so embarrassing to express this. You felt the center of her chest heat up, mentally beating yourself up as a tear or two filled your eyes. Why on Earth were you crying just because you couldn't cum? "...fuck, I couldn't get there, Kento."

Nanami softened at your frustration, slowly pulling out and laying down on the bed next to you. His hand stayed on your cheek, thumb carefully wiping under your eyes. He could see how being pent up and edged over and over again against your will was making your frustration grow, which in turn prevented you from releasing any kind of tension. It was a weird cycle—you wanted to cum but couldn't, making your body more and more pent-up and tense, which made you frustrated, and then it was back to step one.

Nanami stays quiet, none of the words in his head sounded right. He worried that anything he would say would just upset you further and make you feel embarrassed or insecure about your body. Instead, he brings you closer to him, his arms carefully pulling you towards his bare chest to then caress his hands down your back. You needed comfort, ease your mind off things. Your tears told him the severity of your feelings at the moment, every single one valid in his eyes and understanding your frustration. What was supposed to be an explosion of euphoria turned into a cocktail of emotions directed towards yourself, it wasn't fair to you and it hurt him to see you like this in this situation.

You sighed, nuzzling your head against his arms as you looked away from his eyes. You could feel your eyebrows knitted together, but you couldn't feel how your jaw tensed as you gritted your teeth against each other or the way you were closing yourself off by taking as little space as possible. It felt stupid, trying to find the reason why your body just wasn't feeling like feeling pleasure, circling back to your cycle, your mood, if you were stressed, anything that would explain what was going on. But as much as you wrecked your mind over it, no answer felt right and it made things more frustrated. No answers meant no way to solve things.

Taking in these little sighs, Nanami knew you needed to relieve this tension some other way. So he reverts back to the small things.

"Get on your stomach, love." He said softly, slipping his arm from beneath your head as he lifted himself to kneel on the bed.

"We already tried that, Kento." You answered in a mumble.

"Not for that, I want to help you another way."

You looked up at him from your side, meeting his patient eyes as he waited for you to do as he asked. To be honest, you just wanted to get back into your clothes and call it a day, hoping that your body would get over whatever it was going through by the next time you two got horny. But then again, he didn't seem to be overthinking or mad about the situation like you were and was pushing aside the fact that his body was just starting to soften, immediately shutting down any possibility for sex tonight for good. You didn't know what he was planning, so with a raise of an eyebrow, you turned on the bed to lay on your stomach as your elbows propped you up to look back at him intrigued.

Without skipping a beat, his hands find your shoulders, fingers pressing against that tender spot close to your neck and rubbing in circles. It was tense, to no one's surprise, making him sigh and making you groan quietly. His fingers slowly slide outwards against your skin, sometimes changing circular motions to knead your muscles up and down.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to be doing this considering he already went above and beyond before to help you orgasm, but you already knew he would just brush it off and continue. Besides, it felt nice. Your body was sore, pent-up, and you were frustrated. A massage didn't sound too bad, even better when he was being really gentle with his hands and applying just the right pressure.

"Does that feel good?" He asked softly, his head turning to you when you groan.

You hum with a nod, letting your arms rest completely on the bed and using them as a pillow, letting Nanami pamper you a bit. You know he said you didn't need to make it up to him in any way, and though he was right, you wanted to. He was doing too much for the little you did.

But he didn't see it that way.

"You know, sex isn't the only way I want to make love to you." He started, his hands sliding down your sides until he reached your lower back, using his thumbs to rub over in circles. "And I don't want sex to be the only way we get intimate and release some tension."

"I love how you look at me with those pretty eyes, begging me for more and moaning my name with my hands all over you. But I also love seeing you feel confident, comfortable, and loved. How you relax whenever we are together, how you seek me just because you feel like it, how we bounce off each other even if it means keeping me on my toes...that's why I can't enjoy it if you don't. Because it doesn't feel like you are here with me—and I want to be with you whenever I can. So if sex isn't enjoyable, I will just show you my love in other ways."

Nanami chuckles, hands still rubbing at your waist and hips as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. You turned your head to the side, still resting it on top of your arms, to reveal how vulnerable his words hit you. He made it sound as if pleasure came second when having sex, making you feel a bit silly for not thinking about it in that way and preoccupying yourself with your climax first. Not that he would blame you for that, of course, since he also prioritized your pleasure first out of love for you. Still, it did take some guilt off your shoulders, both figuratively and literally now that he worked through some knots, knowing that his earlier words came out of a caring place rather than a pity one. It was stupid to ever think he would ever intentionally try to make you feel guilty over something you had no control over, and it made you feel a bit better about your sudden condition.

"Thank you, love." You breathed out, placing a hand on this knee and rubbing your thumb over it. Words weren't being your friends right now with everything you were feeling even if things were starting to clear up, but you still wanted to show him how much it meant for him to say and do so much at a moment's notice. It might be small, but you hoped it was enough.

Your small touch was met with a hum, his eyes looking down at your hand on him briefly before smiling down at you. He was glad to see that familiar look in your eyes, the one which you look back at him when his feelings dawned on you once more after God knows how many times he has seen it before. Seeing you soften up and seek him in the most subtle ways that, in his eyes, were the ones that showed your feelings the best. He was seeing you feel loved, just like he wanted you to feel right now.

"Back, please." He instructed gently, hands rubbing up your hips to the sides of your breasts. A quick and innocent touch before you actually turned.

You smiled softly, lifting your head from your arms and using your elbow to roll on your back like he asked. Though it was starting to feel a bit cold, you didn't really feel like putting back some clothes on. You still wanted to feel his hands directly on your skin, especially now that your legs were feeling sore after how tensed they were a couple of minutes ago.

As if he read your mind, he took one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder before giving your ankle a soft kiss. He hummed, his hands kneading down your legs starting with your calf. Thumbs worked through your muscles, earning a soft groan from you as you looked up at him. There was something sensual from the moment, unsurprising considering the two of you decided to remain bare to each other and your leg stretched out to rest on his shoulder, but also with how slow and thorough he was being.

Rather than the usual sudden and unraveling pleasure from an orgasm, this kind of touch felt like a crescendo. His hands touched your skin and applied pressure in the places he felt you tense, getting closer and closer to the most intimate parts of you but not letting things escalate further than a simple massage. It was calm and delicate, taking time to build up before he even pressed against you. It wasn't overwhelming, it didn't dumb you down or force your thoughts out of you, it nourished them by redirecting them into how your body felt. As Nanami lowered your leg to the mattress to raise the other and work his way up to your calf, it was as if you could feel the parts rather than just the whole of your body, aware of each tension and knot that had built up over time and surrounding to his rhythmic and soothing strokes. Pressure came and left like waves at the shore, feeling the way your body slowly relaxed and brought the relief you were seeking.

Nanami wasn't looking to break you down with pleasure tonight. He was looking to build you up until you felt greater than the sum of the parts, parts he loved each and immensely.

"You're being really quiet, am I making you fall asleep?" Nanami chuckled, bringing his hands down to your things where they met your hips before caressing them up to the soles of your feet.

"Would you stop if I did fall asleep?" You teased, raising yourself up with your elbows as you grinned at him.

"Not unless you asked me to."

You giggled, feeling all that clutter in your mind leave with each minute, focusing on his hands and occasionally kisses he left over your skin. You relaxed your body further, releasing the tension you unconsciously held on other parts of your body as you noticed them.

You took the opportunity to look at his face, admiring his attention to you and how much he has done already for you on this night alone. He didn't complain once tonight. Not when you asked for a different position, not when he stopped, not when this night turned into something different. Instead, he was caring and selfless, looking out for you and doing it because he wanted to—no, insisted on making you feel good some other way. He was so...

"You're perfect," you breathed out, your thoughts escaping your mind before you could react. But when you do, you bring your leg down from his shoulder and sit up, bringing a hand to his cheek and caressing it. "I love how you love me."

Nanami softened at your words, a bit taken back at your sudden affection but he wouldn't have it any other way. Keeping his eyes on you, he wasn't able to say his own thoughts before you continued yours.

"I love you, Kento. You made me feel better about tonight."

Nanami hummed, brushing away the strands of hair that covered your beautiful face. There she was, his angel. All pampered, taken care of, and present. There you were. He kissed your hairline, pressing his lips a bit more before he pulled away.

"And I will make sure I keep doing that. I can't have my love feeling all tense, not even a little bit."

He smiled at you, running his hands down your arms pulling you closer and planting a kiss behind your ear, "I love loving you, I love how you love me, and above all, I absolutely adore you."

Your heart swelled, bringing this warmth all over your body from your chest. A warmth that felt intimate, but didn't make you feel aroused. It made you feel cozy, confident, loved. You wouldn't trade that.

As you take his hands off your arms and into yours, squeezing them tightly as you pepper his face with kisses, Nanami chuckles and allows you to focus on him for a moment like he has on you. Maybe he would have to massage you more often if it meant feeling your lips on every inch of his face, a much special massage if you ask him.

#nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento nanami #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen kento #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu nanami kento

[swordcreature]

Also if you're looking for hcs/things to write about, may I suggest how Dammon/Rolan/Zevlor show their jealousy? Say another handsome tiefling is flirting with you.

not gonna lie this got away from me more than i expected it to lol. thank you for the suggestion!!!!

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - Jealousy

So this one isn't 100% explicit like my other HCs, but there are some mentions of sex sprinkled in. So standard MDNI/18+ still applies for the most part.

How the tiefling boys handle jealousy

Dammon: 

So I think how Dammon would react depends heavily on the status of your relationship.  

When you two are something more defined, it’s pretty hard to make him jealous. Not because he doesn’t care about you, but because he’s really secure in your relationship (whatever that may be) and he trusts you.  

That being said, he’s only mortal. Seeing another person flirting with you gets him a bit pissed off. Not at you, of course, but at the person flirting with you.  

He’ll come up to you and politely insert himself into the conversation, making sure to grab your waist a little tighter, maybe make a show out of pecking you on the cheek.  

Basically anything to show this person that you and him are something.  

And when the person gets the hint, he’s happy to have you all to himself again. It just ends up making him really appreciate how safe and comfortable he feels with you.  

When he gets you to bed though, he definitely can’t help but make some quip about the whole ordeal.  

Like he’d have his face between your legs and his fingers inside of you and feel the need to comment on how wet you get just for him, or how much he loves being the only one to see you fall apart.  

He just really loves having you all to himself. 

Now if you guys weren’t in a relationship of any kind, and Dammon sees someone flirting with you? That’s different.  

Because he doesn’t know the true extent of your feelings. So, even though he has an air of confidence around him, he still has doubts. And seeing someone else flirting, especially if they’re making you smile or laugh? 

Oh it’s torture to him.  

I see all three of these guys being really big tail swishers. They’re all like annoyed cats when jealous.  

But Dammon thinking you may be into this other tiefling has his tail whipping around the forge like it has a mind of its own.  

He may burn himself on the forge once or twice from how uncontrollable it is.  

He’ll grumble to himself the entire time you’re talking to this mystery person, mumbling under his breath. 

He thinks he’s fairly inconspicuous about it. 

He isn’t though. 

Rolan: 

God. Rolan. I have so many feelings about jealous Rolan.  

I don’t think he becomes jealous super easily or anything, but he does react the most forward about it.  

Rolan has this strange mix of confidence and insecurity, which I think would translate to his romantic endeavors as well.  

Like he’s confident that he can please you, he’s a capable man, a talented wizard, why shouldn’t he be able to satisfy your needs? 

But also, he’s hard to deal with, a bit selfish, an utter weakling, definitely not as handsome as this tiefling you’re talking to, so why would you want him at all? 

I could see those kinds of thoughts running through his head. Even though you don’t see him that way at all. 

So of course he sulks when he becomes truly jealous. The insecurities take over big time. Especially if the person flirting with you excels at something he doesn’t.  

He’s not mad at you or anything, he’s more upset that he doesn’t feel good enough for you. But he would take it out on you a bit. 

A little bitter comment here or there, maybe giving you a bit of the cold shoulder treatment. Because his first defense mechanism is abrasiveness. 

He hates himself even more when he snaps at you, but he just can’t help it. He’s just so consumed by the idea that he doesn’t deserve you. 

When you get him alone and have an honest conversation about his feelings, which will take some prying, mind you, he’ll apologize for everything of course. He does want to make a better effort to do better by you. 

And his first step will be to take you to bed and tenderly show you how much he cares.  

“Makeup sex” (if you can really even consider it that) with him is extremely intimate and sweet. He’s still going to fuck you deep, rutting against you desperately, but he’ll try to show you just how much you mean to him during.  

You, of course, just have to make a joke about needing to make him jealous more often.  

Zevlor: 

Zevlor is tough because, like Dammon, he tries to hide it.  

And I think jealousy for him is something less akin to true envy and more akin to self-loathing (which is a bit similar to Rolan, but I think Rolan does have a true sense of jealousy because he internalizes it as “I'm mad that this person excels where I fail” where Zevlor is more “I am mad at myself for failing where this other excels” - the difference being where they place the hostility) 

He knows you love him and trusts you implicitly, but at the end of the day, he loves you so much that he thinks you deserve “better” than him. 

So when he sees someone flirting with you, he excuses himself to be alone for a bit. He’s always been a very “enjoys watching others have fun” type of guy, so at first you don’t really see that anything is wrong. 

But then you notice he’s not really even sitting at the sidelines anymore, he’s just off somewhere else entirely. When you find him, he’s like staring wistfully up at the moon.  

If you know him well enough you start to pick up on the other little things that tell you he’s not himself.  

The flicking of his tail, his hands clasped tight behind him, not looking you directly in the eye for too long. It all makes you really sad, because of course you have an idea of what’s the matter.  

He’ll outright deny that he’s jealous, that he’s feeling down because of that other person, I don’t think he’d be the kind of person to really admit that. 

But once you’re alone with him he’ll open up to you about his insecurities and his worries about being able to make you happy the way someone else could.  

He is insecure about a lot of things and the last thing he wants is for it to become a pity party for him. He just really wants to be honest with you. 

Despite his protests, you still get to reassure him just how much you love him. Even better, you get to show him. 

Just like Rolan, the sex is incredibly heartfelt and intimate (because of course you have to show this man just how much you want him in every way). Lots of kissing and sweet whispers, light touches and slow thrusts. He fucks you like he has no other obligations for the rest of his life except to be inside you.  

And when you get to be on top of him, you get to worship him like the king you see him as. You ride him like a devoted soul prays at an altar of their god, his body is your absolution.  

#bg3 #bg3 smut #my writing #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon x reader #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor x reader #hcs #requests/suggestions #asks #yarnnerdally

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #professor!Peter Parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Andrew Peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #Peter Parker smut #professor!au #spiderman #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm!peter #andrew garfield peter parker #reader insert #smut #this is so self indulgent #Peter Parker x female reader

[11cupid-tarot11]

Pile 1 -> 3 🩷

Short random messages regarding love for you! 💓

Pile 1- the chariot, the star and seven of coins

For starters the star card is making me think you might already have a crush on this person or might know of them, take what resonates for you.

For others, I'm getting this person might just really admire you. I'm hearing they like you so much they're willing to basically cross seas for you.

This person is strong willed meaning when it comes to you nothing else matters in the world, I think they have their eyes on a prize and are very determined when they want something which would appear to be you lol

I think this person is already planning y'all future in their head, like they've really got everything figured out even how they want to approach you 😭 (that's cute lol)

I feel like this person just really wants to say you're all in their space and they're accepting it. Like they can't wait for the day you two come together (and get married I'm hearing for some 😉😜) but they're definitely planning on making their move soon!

Other messages- 1111 might be significant, you're hot, lots of dates in nature, can't wait to kiss you, I miss you already.

Pile 2- I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF THE CARDS BUT I WILL NOT FORGET NEXT TIME MY POOKIES 🤞🏾😜🩷

Okay, for this pile I'm picking up on a dynamic that's like light and day, one person in this connection is a bit colder, closed off and I feel like someone in this connection just refuses to give up.

I'm hearing 'let your doors down' and this person might feel very hurt that the other isn't open to the same emotion intimacy the other is into.

I'm seeing it might be best to take a break, maybe the relationship has gotten to a point neither of you had meant it to or you're just really disappointed by the outcome and they're clearly not up to your standards and it's not good to settle for less.

I'm seeing maybe some of us are trying a little too hard to hang onto this connection but we can't change nor fix something that's not broken.

I am seeing for some of you that removing your energy might actually make this person miss you, and if they love you enough they'll come around and compromise so the both of you can feel fulfilled and happy in the relationship and if they don't clearly they weren't the ones for you and that's okay, because you never know when the universe is going to throw someone new your way! This could be a blessing in disguise 🥸.

Other messages- 444 could be significant, the color red, maybe a red car? I have no idea what song this is but it's got something to do with driving?idk ur person is singing it 🤣 Maybe that's significant for someone out there?

Pile 3-

So for this pile I actually heard 'its time!" I think this pile is being called to awaken to something or for some of you a special someone? 🥹

Okay this message was a little harder to read but I think both ends have been stressing out over this? And it's kind of ridiculous because you're both literally good people according to spirit that would have a very beautiful relationship and would grow like a freaking fruit tree! I think spirit is saying since neither of you will make a move they'll be forced to push both of you using the universe- like magic almost I'm hearing.

This pile was shorter, and I'm also randomly hearing someone in this connection could be short lol? I think someone here might smile a lot too, I'm seeing smiley faces!

Other messages- the song 'Magic by txt', 12, 111, the color yellow and maybe the month of May- June might be significant for some of y'all?

Have a fantastic day! 🌹 See you all again soon! Hope you enjoyed 😊

Dm for personal readings!

#18+ tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #pac tarot #pick a card #fs reading #fs tarot #love reading #spirituality #tarot messages #tarot love reading #pac love reading #Spotify

[savannahsdeath]

heyyy could u write something where like reader is about to shower but starts to get really insecure and kinda has a breakdown, BUT ellie reassures her. (pls also give reader stretch marks bc i've been so insecure abt mine lately and i have them literally everywhere. thighs, hips, even on my boobs lol) <3

ELLIE WILLIAMS X INSECURE!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! but tbh its minors safe this time i think ??

writers note: just a reminder youre all beautiful no matter what!! beauty standards or wtv was it called are something we shouldnt base our life on but we sadly do. self love is the key to happiness and dont let other people ruin it!!🩷🩷and to our lovely anon, you dont need to worry about stretch marks. trust me, most of people dont even pay attention to them! its nothing 'special in a bad way'. i lately got some too, right before my holidays and theyre sooo visible through my summer clothes but its something you can get used to be comfortable with. please, anon, dont think less of yourself because of them nor any other insecurities. and this comes to everyone!!💞

it was already late so you were getting ready to take a shower to not waste any more time. you put your clothes on a nearby shelf. you stood in front of the mirror in your underwear only, looking for anything that could be possibly pointed out, like you didn't have enough insecurities already. feeling rather self-conscious, you were examining your reflection for any flaws or imperfections. every detail of your body was being inspected up-close, from the lines on your stomach, to the size of your thighs, to the shape of your shoulders and face. your eyes were scanning every inch of you, seeking any signs of something you could hate, even if others wouldn't notice them. you couldn't help but wonder if the things you were stressing over were even worth worrying about, or if you were just creating problems where they didn't exist.

either way, you couldn't help but hate them. and since you mostly focused on bad things and you didn't see your advantages - you hated yourself. in your eyes your whole body could change. or even should change.

the more you stared at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every little thing, the more you hated what you saw. it felt like nothing was good enough, like every little imperfection needed to be changed or worked on. you felt like you could never measure up to this impossible standard, like your entire body was inadequate. the insecurities were eating away at you, gnawing away until any confidence or self-love you might've had was gone.

that was the moment your eyes beginned to get glossy. you didn't cry though, oh, no. you hated the way you look when you cry, just like everything else, so you tried your best to hold back tears. the floodgates were beginning to open, but you held them back with everything you had. you despised the way you looked when you cried: the tears down your cheeks, your puffy eyes, all those disgusting, revolting imperfections. as much as you hated your flaws, you despised your crying face even more. you would never let anyone see you like that, never.

suddenly, your girlfriend and roommate in one, knocked on the door. "everything okay in there?"

she must notice you're taking your time instead of simply taking a shower already.

you stayed silent, knowing if you try to open your mouth you couldn't control what comes from them. you'd probably break down and the thick door won't be enough to mute your pathetic sobs.

you didn't want to answer, but then again, you knew if you stayed quiet, your girlfriend would eventually come in and check on you. you had to keep yourself together. you couldn't fall apart right in front of her like that.

you let out a shaky breath and replied, "yeah, everything's fine." you could feel your voice cracking with each word, but you were determined not to let her see you in such a sorry state.

what if she sees me the way i see myself?

your girlfriend wasn't fooled by your shaky reply. even if you denied it, she knew something was wrong. she heard the emotion in your voice and could sense the struggle to keep yourself together. without another word, she opened the door and walked in.

"what's wrong, pretty girl?" she asked when she didn't saw your glossy eyes yet.

you, on the other hand, couldn't control yourself anymore. the nickname 'pretty girl' hit you instantly, thinking you're anything but pretty.

pretty.

girl.

those two words hit you harder than a punch to the gut, evoking a strong reaction that you tried to mask. you took a deep breath to steady your voice so that you didn't break, but it was impossible to sound completely calm when you felt so much pain just from those two words.

"nothing." you muttered quietly, but your voice sounded more like a choke than a word.

she hugged you from behind, looking in the same, unlucky mirror. her hands softly touched the scretch marks on your hips as she hold onto them, gently rocking you back and forth.

you wanted nothing more than to reject this hug and flee from your own reflection in the mirror, but you were too weak to pull away.

"nothing?" she asked gently, planting little kisses from your neck to shoulders.

you felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over you as your girlfriend's touch revealed the marks on your hips. she immediately spotted them and caressed them with her soft hands.

it all felt too much. you were fighting so hard to hold yourself together, but when she touched you, it all came crashing down. the tears finally escaped and you began to sob, clinging onto her tightly as you broke down. "no... not nothing..."

she held you close, feeling your warmth as her arms wrapped around you and her hands comforted your pain. she rubbed your back and kissed your neck as she tried to soothe you. "shh, come here, it's okay..." she whispered gently.

she led you over to the bed and laid you down. she carefully took off her shirt, leaving on only her bra and boxers, then laid down with you, hugging you tightly. she kissed your neck, your face, brushed your hair back, caressed your body, your stretch marks, your insecurities (at least the ones she knew about), anything to try and comfort you. she whispered words of reassurance and love as she tried to fill you with the affection you felt you lacked. "i love you, my pretty girl... i love you." she repeated those words again and again, hoping you'd believe that someone could love you, and that someone was her.

ellie continued to hold you tightly as you cried into her. your tears soaked into her bra, but she didn't mind; you'd done that many times before. she rubbed your back in soothing circles as she let you let it all out, and she made small shushing noises in your ear. your sobs turned into whimpers and then into a soft murmur, and as your emotions died down, she gently wiped away the tears, replacing them with kisses.

as she noticed you calmed down she slightly pulled away to get a better look at you. "can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"i... it's just..." you started, and your voice broke as you tried to find the words. your girlfriend gave you her undivided attention, focusing on you and only you. "i- i don't feel pretty... i don't feel good enough... i don't feel... enough."

with her eyes looking deep into yours, you couldn't help but be vulnerable as you opened up to her. your insecurities and flaws, the things you tried so hard to hide, were all laid bare in front of her now.

a pang of guilt hit you in that moment.

what am i doing?

ellie was so sweet and loving, and you felt like you were just taking advantage of her kindness. like you're just an attention seeker.

but before you could say anything, she pressed a finger to your lips.

"no. shut your mouth." she said sternly, and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "that's not true. i don't wanna hear it, not another word." she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to yours.

you found yourself sitting on her lap, as she stroked your hair, whispering something or kissing you from time to time. you told her all about it, about what and how you feel. and she listened.

you were so lost in your emotional story you didn't even notice the way she slowly took off her rings - one by one, and placed them on a bedside shelf.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x insecure!reader #ellie x insecure!reader #insecure!reader

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Brother’s Best Friend (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you are cassian’s sister and have a thing for azriel

wc: 1K

a/n: this is my first fic ive written for tumblr since like 2014 i think so sorry if its absolute garage. this is also not proof read at all and honestly i wrote this while tipsy bc ive been nervous to write again so i’m just saying fuck it i’m sorry :)

warnings: slight smut/suggestiveness

You always looked up to Cassian since you were little.

Like most big brothers, he has always been protective as fuck, especially with growing up in the windhaven camp and becoming solely responsible for you after your mother died.

He shielded you from so much in your childhood because he wanted the best for you.

Like many little sisters, you thought Cassian and his friends were the coolest males alive and wanted to follow them everywhere.

You basically had three big brothers instead of one.

They would try to include you as much as possible, but sometimes they did certain things that you definitely should not be around and would find some excuse to get rid of you.

But at the end of the day, the three of them would stand up to just about anyone for you to protect you. And they did.

They only let you join the snowball fight once and then kicked you out because it wasn’t fair that you only targeted Cassian the entire time and that Azriel felt bad throwing snowballs at you.

Also you were a child and couldn’t throw far enough to hit any of them, but they still say you suck at snowball throwing to this day.

When you got older, you desperately tried to ignore the rumors you heard about the boys around the camp. No one needs to hear about their brother’s sex life.

When the four of you moved to Velaris and after everything with Rhysand’s family, they were all very protective over you.

Over time, you and Azriel grew closer. His close friendship with Cassian led to you becoming closer with him than Rhys.

He is soooo protective of you.

So much so that no one bats an eye when he scares off any male that tries to court you, claiming they are not worth your time.

“I’m not overprotective, I just don’t think that any of these males meet your standards.” Aka his standards for you

Having a shadow or two follow you around became the norm.

You and Azriel start to spend a lot of one on one time together, platonically at first. You two are definitely the comfortable silence type.

Reading your separate books on the couch together was a common occurrence.

You spent years trying to ignore the shift in how you viewed Azriel.

Neither of you are quite sure when you realized the change in your relationship, but one day you became very aware of how attractive you find him.

The shy and quiet boy quickly became the silent and mysterious male.

And Azriel isn’t quite sure when you went from being Cassian’s kinda annoying younger sister to a vivacious female with curves he can’t keep his eyes off of.

The emotional connection had been there for centuries through friendship, but once it became physical attraction, you both knew you were screwed.

One night after drinking at Rita’s, Cassian asked Azriel to make sure you got home safe.

The alcohol inhibits both of your judgements and you both end up in your bed that night.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this. No other male even deserves the chance to try to make you feel as good as I do.”

He was your first (again because he scared away every single male who tried to come near you) and it was fucking adorable

Waking up next to your brother’s best friend is a different level of anxiety.

You freak out and tell him this absolutely cannot happen again. You make an effort to avoid being alone with him.

But obviously Azriel is not content with just one night after getting a taste of you.

He spends the next several weeks slowly breaking down your walls with sneaky touches and whispering dirty things in your ear when no one is watching.

Eventually you cave and end up at his door one night, pissed at him for succeeding, but also practically begging him to fuck you again.

And again. And again.

It took no time at all for the actual feelings to be revealed between you two and to start secretly dating.

And from there it’s months of sneaking around and pretending to be just friends in front of others.

Az feels sooo guilty about lying to his friend but you don’t want to tell Cassian because you know he will freak out.

He asks you so many times to tell Cassian because he hates lying to him.

And Rhys is so suspicious of you two but doesn’t want to interfere.

Eventually Cassian catches you two.

He enters Azriel’s room without knocking one night to ask some stupid question and finds Azriel with his face between your legs. We all know Az loves eating you out so obviously.

Cassian is pissed.

As in, he tries to fight Azriel.

But Azriel just lets him and doesn’t fight back because he knows he fucked up by not saying anything sooner.

You start screaming and put yourself between the two of them to get Cassian to stop, which makes Azriel immediately move to cover you in case Cassian doesn’t react quick enough to stop.

Cassian sees how protective Azriel is of you and how you were willing to throw yourself in front of Azriel to defend him and realizes this isn’t just some casual thing between you two.

It takes a couple days for him to forgive Azriel for lying. He forgives you within one day because you always have been able to use your puppy dog eyes on him to get what you want.

Eventually Cassian accepts your relationship.

But he threatens Azriel that if he ever hurts you, he will do something so severe that Az wouldn’t tell you what he said.

Cassian still makes an overdramatic scene of gagging every time you and Azriel are affectionate in front of him.

Which only makes you do it more to piss him off because that’s what sisters do.

#acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #acotar fic #azriel acotar #bat boys #my writing

[cuubism]

I'd love something about Dream who's very aware that he's way too intense romantically while also being not intense enough sexually because he's ace. His partners usually prefer it the other way around. If that's something you'd be willing to write (if not that's okay too)

hmm yes, we can always do ace dream. though we didn't quite reach 'aware' 😂 human uni au is what popped to my mind

--

When Hob gets back from class, Dream is lying facedown on the couch, one long arm trailing morosely down to the floor, face smashed so deeply into a pillow that Hob can only see the tufts of his hair. He seems to have been there for some time, and doesn't move when Hob comes in.

"Horrors insurmountable today?" Hob asks as he puts down his bag and heads to the adjoining kitchen to grab a snack. He'll probably need to grab one for Dream, too, now that he thinks about it. Doubtful he's eaten.

Dream just makes an mmph sound against his pillow. Then, once Hob's returned to the living room with a plate of apple slices, Dream pops his head up, lines all over his cheek from the pillow, fluffy hair going every which way, and says, "How much do you care about sex?"

Hob nearly trips and flings his apple slices everywhere. "What?"

"In general," Dream persists, heedless of Hob's shock. "Do you subscribe to the belief that individuals past puberty, particularly men, think about sex constantly, or is that an exaggeration? Which do you think is more important in a partnership: compatible personalities, or compatible sex drives? And why?"

"What is this, a sociology assignment?"

"Answer, please," Dream insists.

Hob sighs and gives in to the mad questioning. Joke's on him for having an insane roommate. "I thought about sex all the time when I was thirteen, maybe. Right now I'm just thinking about how I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm fucking starving but we're playing Twenty Questions instead of eating. And as to the second one, I don't know, Dream, I think both are probably important."

"So you think about sex an amount you would consider 'frequent'," Dream presses.

Hob's cheeks heat. Sex is not really a topic he wants to discuss with Dream of all people. Those two thoughts don't meld together into anything good for polite company. "I don't know, I guess!? Doesn't everyone?"

Dream lets out a despairing wail and thumps his head back into his pillow. "I am outnumbered."

Hob still has no idea what the hell he's on about. He finally gives up and just starts eating the apple slices. He offers one to Dream, holding it by the corner of his eye until he finally sees it and takes it, turns his head to the side just enough to start nibbling on it.

"You'll choke if you eat that lying down," Hob warns.

Dream begrudgingly pushes himself up, collapsing against the back of the couch, and goes back to nibbling on his apple slice.

"So," Hob continues, awkwardly, when Dream doesn't say anything else, "sex life not going so well, then?"

Dream glares at him, though it's not very intimidating considering the apple halfway into his mouth. "Too well, by most standards," he finally sniffs, and eats the rest of the slice.

"Oh, yeah?" Dream having sex is another thing Hob doesn't really like to think about. Why'd he bring that up again?

"Indeed. I have suitors falling over each other to bed me," Dream says.

Do all classic literature students talk the way Dream does? Hob doesn't know. It's been two years that they've lived together and he's still yet to definitively figure out if it's an affectation or just the way Dream is. He's leaning towards the latter.

Unfortunately, he can believe Dream's statement. Dream is a snitty little prick most of the time, but he's also unbearably beautiful.

"So what's the problem, then?" he asks.

"I don't want them to bed me," Dream says.

Hob's not following. "Say no, then?"

Dream rolls his eyes. "I don't want them to bed me, I want them to want me." His voice loses some of its determination halfway through the sentence, and he looks away.

Ouch. "Sounds like they do want you?"

Dream snorts. "Only so long as it suits them. Only so long as I fit their parameters. Today I spoke to Cori--"

Ah, yes, Cori, Dream's most recent ex-boyfriend. Dream's had a lot of ex-boyfriends, but Cori really tops the list, and not in a good way.

Now that Hob thinks about it, all of Dream's relationships kind of go the same way. Dream comes home after the first date bouncing off the walls with stars in his eyes insisting this person's the one, and within two months the thing's somehow torpedoed into the Underworld and Hob's scraping Dream up off the bathroom floor.

He's starting to see where the initial line of questioning might have come from.

"--and he, at last, was straightforward with me when no one else has bothered to be all this time. I demanded to know, truthfully, why he ended things, and he told me that I 'care too much, but won't put out'--"

Hob winces.

"--which does not make sense, as we had sex frequently? I do not know what else I am meant to be 'putting' and where. I said as much, and he laughed, and said--" he imitates Cori's voice with a surprisingly passable American accent-- "'It only counts if you at least pretend you want to be there, doll. Next time try initiating occasionally.' He left before I could question him further."

Hob doesn't like the picture this is painting. And Dream is looking at him beseechingly, like Hob might be able to explain the bizarre encounter. "So... now you're trying to figure out if your understanding of sex is wrong or something?"

"I felt that, as a neutral observer to the situation, you would be appropriate to survey," Dream says.

(Neutral is a stretch, Hob thinks.)

"So I ask you, Hob Gadling, as a man demonstrably unbothered by 'hookup culture'--"

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"--what do you think is the correct amount that one should care about sex? Because I--" he breaks off, twisting his fingers in his hair, suddenly anxious-- "I do not know what I am doing wrong."

Hob moves to sit beside him, lays a hand lightly on his arm. He's about to say, you're not doing anything wrong, except... that may not precisely be true. At least in terms of how Dream is actually handling it with his partners.

"How much do you care about sex?" he asks.

"Not as much as I am supposed to, evidently," Dream says. Hob just waits for him to elaborate. "Not very much. I prefer not to think about it." He looks at Hob, weary. "Now you will tell me that this is abnormal."

"I don't know what's 'normal'," Hob says. "But it does sound different from how Cori felt about it."

"I suppose," Dream says, sadly.

Hob doesn't particularly like where the intersection of 'I don't care about sex' and 'we had sex all the time' lands him. "If you don't care that much, why keep doing it?"

"It is what is done, is it not?" says Dream. "Besides. I do not mind so much. But even when I do participate, it is still not good enough. Or so it seems."

It's because they're picking up on the fact that you're not really enjoying it, Hob thinks. No one wants a partner who's not engaging. Least not anyone decent. But not saying anything and then just dipping out suddenly is kind of a dickish move, in his opinion.

"Do you want to participate?" he asks.

This seems to give Dream pause. "Mostly I would prefer to do other things. Like. Dates. Only that does not seem much appreciated either." He twists his hands together. "Perhaps Cori is right. I. Care too much."

"No." Hob takes Dream's hands and untwists them. "Cori's a dickhead. You just need to find someone who's on the same page as you, that's all."

"But it seems that book is rather empty," Dream says. He hasn't taken his hands back from Hob.

"Well, was there anyone that you did like having sex with? Or has it always just been--" he can't help but cringe-- "you just putting up with it because you thought you were supposed to?"

"Calliope," Dream says instantly, and Hob lets out a relieved breath. At least it's not all bad. "Because, no matter that it ended poorly... I felt that she truly liked me. And not. Just sex."

"Okay, see?" he says. "You just have to find someone like that."

It... hurts, to try to push Dream into someone else's path. But Hob's long accepted that Dream doesn't feel that way about him. Dream rarely seems hesitant about trying to date anyone he is interested in. Surely if he felt that way about Hob, he would have made it clear by now.

"Someone," Dream echoes, looking down at their joined hands.

"Just because what you want isn't common doesn't mean it's not out there," Hob says, trying to be encouraging. "And hey, if you know now, you can avoid the whole 'not on the same page' rigamarole, hm?"

"Yes," Dream says. "I suppose so." Finally he takes back his hands, instead taking another apple slice from the plate Hob's left on the coffee table and chewing on it slowly.

I would love you right, Hob thinks, unwanted, unbidden. It's not a productive thought, and it's a painful one, too.

"Perhaps I will take a break," Dream decides, though doesn't sound entirely happy about it.

"Could be good," Hob says. "Get your head on right."

"Yes," Dream agrees. "This has been. Illuminating. I thank you for your counsel. I suppose I will have to also thank Cori, 'dickhead' though he may be."

And with that he retreats to his room, still seeming a little off-kilter. And Hob can't help but feel like he's gone wrong somewhere, said something wrong, though he doesn't know where, or what.

#i don't actually know if you specifically wanted dreamling or what whoops #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #ask #anonymous #ace dream #left it on a cliffhanger goddammit but they just didn't seem emotionally aware enough to confess their feelings then XD

[missmeinyourbones]

Hiii leah! congratulations on your milestone, I'm so excited for this event and grateful for your wonderful writing! I'd like to request levi x "I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep" if that's alright, bc would've could've should've is my whole life. thank you <3

I FIGHT WITH YOU IN MY SLEEP (l. ackerman)

L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Things are off between the two of you—or maybe just you.

Because Levi seems fine, not that he's one for dramatic displays of emotion, but recently, the argument you had a few days ago seems to be the furthest thing from his mind.

Which is valid because you talked about it, discussed it like adults and apologized. The case should be closed and you should be moving on.

But for some strange reason, you can't.

The tiny argument that spewed into something much larger has been eating away at your decaying insides for days, now.

So much so, you're actually losing sleep over it.

After your standard good morning greetings, you fall into your usual breakfast routines. Levi sits at the kitchen table, sipping from his steaming mug and admiring the calmness of the morning from the window. You wipe down the counter, counting your breaths and hoping you can calm down before your anxiousness bubbles over and—

"You were in my dream last night," you casually breathe, pouring creamer into your coffee and watching the colors melt together with your spoon.

It's such a funny thing to admit. Like he's a high school crush slowly taking over your subconscious and not the man who's seen every inch of you and still chooses to see more, it feels oddly intimate telling him this.

You hear Levi kiss his teeth, "It's too early for you to be filthy."

"Not that kind of dream."

You wait for his response, and when it doesn't come, you turn from the counter to face him. Eyebrows raised and wanting him to take the bait, you're surprised to find him already staring back at your impatient stance.

"You're not gonna ask me about it?" you shake your head, a bit irritated with his lack of interest in something that's been rotting away inside of you.

He takes a deep breath, one that would sound exasperated if you didn't know him. But you do, and you know it's one of faux irritation. "And what was I doing in your dream?"

"We were fighting," you speak softly, feeling the tension rise at your few words. "It was pretty bad, too."

You watch your lover scowl in thought, eyebrows furrowed when he quips.

"Fighting? About what?"

"I don't even remember," you say truthfully, and Levi can sense the sudden change in your tone. You're tired, exhausted, from both lack of sleep and something far stronger. "I just remember being so mad at you and I couldn't stop crying."

He watches you carefully like a cat contemplating its next move. He purses his lips in thought, taking in your stressed expressions and bitten fingernails. Still unsure of the cards handed to him, he merely hums in response.

Wrong move, he quickly realizes.

You speak with slight hostility when you scoff, "That doesn't concern you?"

"Why would it concern me? It was just a dream," he tries to put out the flame before it spreads. "You told me last week that you had a dream about growing a tail."

"Dreams can mean stuff sometimes," you're quick to spell it out for him.

He tries to tease, "And what does you growing a tail mean?"

The wrinkle forming between your brows practically screams at him—another wrong move.

Exasperated, your gaze falls back to the now mixed beige of your coffee when you weakly give in, "Levi, I'm talking about the fighting one."

After a moment, Levi hums again, which is his way of telling you to continue. It's what he does when he wants to let you know he's still listening, still wants to talk to you, even if he doesn't know exactly what to say.

You make things a bit easier for him when you sigh into your mug, "Sometimes dreams can manifest subconscious thoughts or feelings."

"So you're subconsciously mad at me," Levi states with little room for argument, finally connecting the dots of your stubborn riddles.

And when he finally gives you the answer you've been looking for, all confidence is lost and you meekly shrug and shrink beneath his hardened gaze.

"Hey, look at me." His voice is soft yet stern, commanding your attention when his thumb gently holds your chin upwards.

You let him, and when he sees the tiny tears brewing at your lash line, he whispers.

"Is this about what happened last week?"

Yes, you want to scream in his stupid face. How can someone as smart as him be so ignorant at times?

Instead, you choose to weakly mumble out a small, "I dunno, maybe."

"Wanna go talk some more about it? Maybe..." you practically hear the fight in his hesitancy when he weakly offers, "…in the bath?"

He fights off a smile when he sees your face twitch in thought, clearly shocked at his offer.

"Am I still dreaming? Or is this you finally admitting you actually like taking baths with me?" your question comes out half teasing half disbelieving.

"I like making you happy," he corrects, "and I'd like to ease your subconscious, if that's the case."

This time, it's you that's humming for him to continue, loosening your stance and letting him gently shove you in the direction of the bathroom.

Levi takes it as a win, because if him sitting in a lukewarm bath with you for a half hour, rehashing an argument he thought was already resolved, means you feel better—means you're back to dreaming your usual dreams about growing extra body parts and doing unspeakable things to one another—then he'll just have to swallow his pride and sit in that damn tub.

"Besides," you hear him mumble from behind you, "I'm supposed to be the one who can't sleep. You're supposed to be the one who hogs the blankets and kicks me in the middle of the night."

#levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi fic #levi ackerman fic #levi fluff #levi angst #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

[shikariiin]

Valentine's break

A Short TTTE fanfiction - Valentine Special

They haven't dated in this timeline :3, I rarely write, so excuse my rookie mistakes.

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

Edward puffed his cigarette, the night wind gently blowing on his hair as the stars above him shined.

The usual valentine's night for the K2.

As he took a long drag, memories flooded back: past loves, and heartaches. He stared off to the distance, aiming fault to himself for everything that had happened, guilt slowly creeping up, his mind going numb.

Valentine's Day was not his favorite, though he'd never openly admit it.

Abruptly, his thoughts were disrupted as a red coat cascaded down upon him, enveloping him in its warmth and vibrant hue. He looked up to a familiar face.

"Mind if I join?" James spoke softly, Edward blinked slowly almost dumbfounded "ah...sure?" he finally answered.

The red man sat beside him, drinking his water bottle "wasn't expecting to find you here" James leaned back, relaxing into the grass.

"Wasn't expecting anyone to find me" Edward smiled, feeling amused, "cigarette?" He handed the half-empty box, "good god no" James immediately refused, as stressful as he gets, he would never smoke nor drink, he wasn't raised that way.

Edward only smiled before looking away, James took notice of his demeanor, "you're not going out? It's valentine's day" he asked the K2.

Edward says as he exhales smoke, "I....I've had enough of Valentine's," an answer James wasn't expecting. "Why's that?" James asks, intrigued nonetheless. Edward sighed, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon.

The weight of past disappointments heavy on his heart. "Every Valentine's Day just reminds me of what I've lost," he confesses, his voice tinged with regret. James nods understandingly, silently acknowledging the pain concealed behind Edward's tough exterior.

"what if someone asked you out? Would you go?" James asked again, his eyes not moving away from the blue haired man.

"goodness they deserved better!" Edward sheepishly laugh "I don't expect anyone to ask me out, get a better standard I'd say"

his smile subsided before looking down to his knees "Love hurts" He inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

James looked at him, having been hurt from hearing the K2 talk about himself like that, "I think you're exceptional," James murmured softly, his gaze drifting upward to the somber sky above.

"You've made alot of impact on this railway, supporting countless engines," James remarked, taking a sip from his water bottle. "you're worth a-lot more than you give yourself credit for" he smiled.

Edward glanced at him, a spark of joy igniting within him, and he couldn't help but return the smile, though a blush colored his cheeks.

"Why aren't you going out for valentine?" Edward asked back, his mood eased as he lay down next to James.

"I have high standards!" James answered vainly, he smiled proudly at himself, Earning a laugh from the K2, his endearing laugh was not of ridicule, but of amusement.

James joined in,The atmosphere shifted, filled with warmth and tenderness as both decided to spend the rest of the night together, neither wanting to leave.

"Happy valentines day, Edward"

"Happy valentines day, James"

Maybe one day they'll actually celebrate valentine together.

#SHIKA HAVENT WRITE IN 3 YEARS YALL #did the drawing in 30 minutes too so sorry for low quality work #ttte #thomas and friends #ttte edward #thomas the tank engine #ttte humanized #ttte james #ttte fanart #ttte human au #digital art #ttte 2x5 #life of a seagull #life of a seagull AU #ttte fanfic #ttte fandom #ttte fic #Author is dyslexic #happy valentine's day

[peachdues]

VOW BETWEEN MAN AND STAR

A/N: not me starting a new WIP. All my current works are staring at me with the surprised Pikachu face rn. As you all know, I do most of my fic planning in the shower, and last night, I was wondering whether I'd ever write anything as angsty as Phantasmagoria. My brain said "bet," and lo and behold, Vow Between Man and Star was born.

CW: This story will be extremely NSFW/18+. It will be incredibly violent, angsty, tragic, (but funny), and of course, smutty.

I will upload a synopsis later today, but I don't want to dull the impact of the prologue, included below.

Without further ado!

Tokyo

July 1, 1995

The early morning air was already thick with summer's humidity when he felt the mark form.

Giyuu shot up in his bed with a gasp, blankets sticking to his sweat-slickened body. His good hand instantly seized around his right forearm as he felt a phantom blade carve a single mark into his skin, right beside the others.

Though covered by his rigid grip, the mark burned a bright blue, its glow seeping through his fingers like a siren light on a police cruiser; a warning.

All of his marks had emitted the same, blue light when they'd first appeared, though the tally's nine siblings had long since faded to silver, nearly blending in with the pale skin of his arm. But they'd scarred nonetheless.

Scarred to remind him of the nine times he'd failed his comrades; failed humanity.

Failed her.

In making that vow, he'd doomed not only himself and his seven fellow Pillars to walk the years of the earth alone, never changing or aging, but he'd doomed her as well. He'd damned her to a repetitive loop of birth and death, fated never to age past twenty-five -- the same age she'd been that first time, when, on the precipice of death, he'd begged for the life she'd already lost. And his desperate wish had been granted; he'd secured her ten lives for them to try again -- to try and find the King of the Demons and rid the world of his and his monstrous creations.

Ten lives, the disembodied voice of a star had told him as his heart slowed, all those centuries ago, when he'd cast that last, feeble plea out into the ethos. Ten lives, in exchange for ten Moons.

Nine had been wasted; in nearly every life, he'd found her, and he'd loved her, and he'd lost her; always too late to save her before some calamity, or from Kibutsuji cornering her, this woman who possessed the knowledge to destroy him, and tearing her limb from limb.

The closest they had come to defeating him had been some seventy-odd years prior. They'd been at the pinnacle of their strength, and they'd just managed to breach the gates of victory when Muzan Kibutsuji pulled one final trick; he'd merged with the young Sun Breather -- Tanjiro -- and managed to rip her head clean from her body right before she'd been able to excise him once and for all.

Giyuu's eardrums had burst from how hard he'd been screaming as he watched his beloved's head thud uselessly to the ground, while his former friend licked her blood from his fingers.

He wondered when he was finally permitted to die, if he would even be allowed into heaven, for having damned the woman he loved to suffer, time and again, each death more violent than the last.

Giyuu spied the early hour of the morning displayed on the small alarm clock resting on his bedside table -- 4:07 AM.

Time had begun for her once more, somewhere in the world, where she'd arrived with a mighty cry, only to be quickly bundled in soft, standard hospital blankets and handed to a relieved and exhausted new mother.

He would have to alert the others; as he'd come to learn over the previous nine cycles, she wasn't even guaranteed to reach adulthood, let alone the level of power she'd need to take on Kibutsuji. She would need her watchers.

So, as the hot, relentless burn of the newest mark faded to a sharp sting, the blue glow winking out beneath the press of his hand, Giyuu found himself kicking the covers off his trembling, clammy form, as he prepared to dress for the day.

Because that tenth mark signaled his last chance had arrived.

His last chance to destroy Kibutsuji.

His last chance to help save humanity.

His last chance to save her.

The sand in the final hourglass was already pouring; and they had work to do.

Someone ask me how I decided to make Giyuu the love interest bc I find it hilarious.

LIKES / REBLOGS/ COMMETS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #tomioka giyuu #kny giyuu #kny smut #demon slayer hashira #hashira au #hashira fic #demon slayer smut #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu smut #demon slayer fic #fanfic