#and Asking. Questions. And. Talking. To. Your. Peers. About. Things.

[backfliips]

As someone who admittedly has attention issues of my own, I think it's important to talk about how attention is a skill that can be learned and often requires conscious and focused effort to build. I think a lot of people despair over the current state of media --- short-form algorithm-driven content that is built to snare and lure and diminish people's attention spans for profit --- and while that despair is certainly built off of legitimate concerns, I want to stress that the damage being done is not irreversible.

Over the course of the COVID-19 lockdowns I fried my brain so intensely with tik toks and instagram reels that I was getting bored 2 seconds into a 5 second video and was finding myself scrolling so quickly that I wasn't even watching anymore. I was lethargic and unhappy and though my mood was definitely simultaneously impacted by the hovering doom of COVID-19 and living in complete isolation for months at a time (I don't recommend that, BTW), I found myself losing passion for the things I loved doing: drawing, reading, and writing. I felt miserable and useless and incredibly guilty for leaving my productive and fulfilling hobbies behind while I chased... not even happiness. Just something to occupy my brain and turn it into mush.

As time passed I realized that I wasn't even having fun on tik tok anymore. I'd see funny videos and get a rush of endorphins, and then the next second I would have completely forgotten what I just watched. I was refreshing social media pages to see numbers I didn't even care about. Everything was an endless loop of swapping between different apps, just time passing and passing and my attention span dipping lower and lower until I would go for days without feeling any sense of joy or accomplishment.

And this was most definitely aided by the fact that I was unemployed and stuck in a terrible worldwide epidemic, but as soon as I deleted the tik tok app and put harsh time limits on instagram (15 minutes a day, which I rationed compulsively) I suddenly wanted to draw again. I started reading books again. I started writing and spending time outside and getting inspiration from the world around me.

Now, years later, I work with teenagers whose lives are dictated by their phones. My coworkers often lament the state of the world today --- which, again, is a valid stance to have --- but in the few months after my workplace implemented a no phones policy, I watched disengaged students bounce back to productivity. Instead of scrolling during lectures they paid attention and asked questions and engaged their peers in conversation. During lunch they played board games and talked to each other. Students even told me about how they didn't even want to go on their phones when they got home from school!

It isn't perfect, and I'm not advocating for a world devoid of phones, but I just want to highlight that these neural pathways can be built and exercised. People's brains are resilient and fascinating and much stronger and more adaptable than many people are willing to give them credit for.

I've expanded my time limits across more apps on my phone, setting days where I can't even access social media at all from my phone, and in that short period of time I've found myself far more engaged with the world around me. I've been zipping my phone up in a bag instead of keeping it in my pocket, adding a step to access it, and I've found that that alone is keeping me from using it to a huge degree. I'll toss my phone across the room when I find myself on it when I don't have any reason to be scrolling. And it's helping!

My main message here is that it's never too late to focus on your focus. Change and improvement doesn't happen until you make an effort on your own.

[docholligay]

Okay so this is a weird question but. Do you have like a guideline for how your parenting style would be accurately represented in fiction? Because I read your Midge parenting posts and I just know in my bones that this is how my character was parented but she’s a young adult not a toddler like Midge so I keep defaulting to what I experienced in parenting which is. Not your style of parenting. At all. If you are willing to help please help I would love assistance

Hm. I don't know. Country authoritative? My general guideline is that Beeb can get hurt or upset or whatever so long as it doesn't kill her, and that frustration is good. Imaginative, too, I guess?

I'd have to have specific questions in order to answer how we tackle them, but here's some general guidelines for how I do things:

She is a member of this family and helps out. She feeds the cats breakfast. She clears her plate after meals. She helps me clean the house, cook, and fold laundry. She cleans her own room (with a lot of guidance from me, admittedly, but we're working on it)

We believe in independence. She gets herself dressed. She packs her own snack for camp. I am not her servant. We have just recently started having her walk the two blocks to teddy's house by herself. I text teddy that she's coming, and teddy waits in the front yard. But beeb's got it! She can do things!

I try to keep her thinking. I'm always explaining new words and phrases and trying to come up with an ever-expanding vocabulary for her. I explain anything I understand to her, and we talk about the possibilities of stuff I don't understand. I mean, this goes all the way down to Moorish influence on Spanish architecture and how that was exported to California. Does she care? Sometimes no. But sometimes yes! And I ask her what SHE thinks about things.

I don't fuck around. We don't 'gentle parent'. I do not ask if would please please consider not hitting papa because that doesn't make me feel safe in my body :( I believe in the phrase "Knock it off" We don't spank! I don't fucking have to, to be honest. There are many paths to god, and I'm lucky in that beeb hates being ignored more than anything. But neither do I believe in this boundary-free best buddies parenting style I see my peers engaging in and then wondering why they have little assholes. I make her do right.

She eats what we eat for dinner. Full stop. Breakfast is a little rotating menu she gets to change once a week, lunch is basically anything she wants within reason, but dinner is what we're all eating. Sometimes she mows it down, sometimes she picks at it, but there's nothing she'll straight up refuse thus far. Not a big fan of beef. We've done this since she was a baby, giving her bites of what we are eating from Indian food to olives to whatever. Now I have a child who orders salads in a restaurant and loves balsamic vinegar.

We play creative games. We were walking to the Y the other day and played a game where we were going to different "Sweet Locations" so like...."The Peppermint Parlor" and when she asked where it was, it was "At the corner of the Aegean Sea and 47th street" (it's good for my creativity too ahaha) I get her to come up with stuff and I play back at her, it's very "yes, and" She also has TESTS, where she has to do something before we can get to our location like...Oh, yesterday it was finding an H in a sign, pointing out a pink flower, shouting her favorite shabbat meals into "THE ECHO CHAMBER" (parking garage).

uhhhh....we learn how to fix stuff, we run laps together, we read to her every morning and night, I dunno!

[distantdarlings]

SOMETHING TO BE OWNED // t. riddle

RATING: PG-13 / 3.1K WORDS

Tom Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After watching your boyfriend, Abraxas Malfoy, mistreat you for months. Tom decides to explain what love should be. (Song fic)

+ WARNINGS - Sensualilty, Tom is persistent in talking to you, crying, Abraxas is an asshole, implication that Abraxas may have hit reader at some point, language, not fully proofread (let me know if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Figure You Out - Voila

---

The way he looked at you sickened Tom. 

His eyes would curl over you like a rotting parasitic plant, climbing up your body and wrapping around your chest and throat, suffocating you from the outside in. Your eyes would flicker nervously from his predatory gaze to the floor more times than he could count, trying to draw his attention away from you. 

Tom couldn’t fathom what about Abraxas Malfoy was attracting you. The only thing that made an ounce of sense was his family’s money. That was it, though. He was loud, obnoxiously prideful, annoyingly materialistic, and anything but handsome. Still, though, you stayed with him. Always forcing your hand within his, swallowing bile down your throat when he leaned in for a too-wet kiss, concealing a shudder when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

Tom didn’t get it. Why stay with him?

Those questions circulated his mind as his group of peers sat around the rounded table positioned in the far corner of the Slytherin common room. They passed jokes around noisily. Every time Abraxas would laugh especially hard, he would slap a gaunt, white hand on the table, and you would jump at the motion. Tom couldn’t help but feel his jaw clench at the notion of you being so jumpy around him. What reason would you have to act this way around him unless he was treating you wrongly?

“Oh, so, speaking of Potions class,” Abraxas started, guffawing unattractively. “Last week, we had to make some kind of…er…I can’t even remember. It was some kind of melting brew we were going to test on whatever the fuck, and—”

“Abraxas?” you piped up suddenly. Your voice was soft like a bell tingling in the distance beneath stone floors. Tom’s expression perked up as you leaned forward slightly from your cramped space between the arm of the sofa and Abraxas. 

The blond paused and turned back to look at you. His hands splayed out in a gesture as if to ask what was wrong, though he seemed annoyed. Tom’s knuckles clenched. 

“What?” Abraxas demanded. 

“You…,” you chuckled nervously, eyes glancing down to your twiddling fingers as the rest of the group stared you down. “Can you not…tell that story? It’s just…It’s embarrassing.”

He paused for a minute, as if considering your words, before shrugging his shoulders. “No, it’s okay, babe. It’s not embarrassing. They won’t laugh.” He turned back to the rest of the group. “You guys won’t laugh, right?”

Murmurs of dismissive agreement went around the group, but Tom remained silent, his eyes staying on yours. Your cheeks flushed wildly as you looked back down at your lap. Whatever this story he was about to tell was, you clearly didn’t want it spoken aloud. Tom’s lips parted to speak. 

“Anyways, so we were partnered for making this potion, right? And there was some kind of herb that you had to prepare very specifically before dropping it in. This was totally my fault. I was reading the instructions, and she was doing the work, which is typically what we do in projects like this—we just work well like that, you know? So, I was reading the preparation for the herb and she was doing it, and then I realized a second too late that I missed one super important thing about the prep, and, boom! This fucking thing blows up in her face!”

He’s laughing aloud—spit flying about, hand slapping roughly on the table in front of him. The rest of the boys around the table burst out in noisy fits of giggles. Tom remained silent. 

His eyes found you. The blush on your cheeks had made its way up to the tips of your ears, and glistening sparks of tears welled in your eyes. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to hold back the impending sobs.

“It makes the loudest fucking sound! The professor’s looking, and everyone else is looking over. I’m cracking up, of course. Dude, her face is straight black from the soot, and the herb is just puffing in her hands—”

Tom watched as you sniffled once and easily slipped out of your space on the couch, easing your way silently to the common room bathrooms with a hand pressed to your nose. Tom’s hand clenched beneath the weight of his anger.

“And, Merlin, I’m dying laughing and she—”

“Abraxas!” Tom shouted suddenly. “Shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life!”

He jumped to his feet and made his way after your retreating figure, already concealed by the shadows cast by the narrow hallway. He didn’t bother to linger long enough to see the young Malfoy’s reaction to his outburst. He was only focused on one thing. 

Perhaps he was out of his league. Perhaps he had no business trying to talk to you, to check if you were okay, to watch you in the ways he did. Perhaps you wanted nothing to do with him. But, fuck, he knew there was no way you could stay with Abraxas. He wouldn’t be good for you either; he knew that. But he couldn’t stand to see that stupid boy mistreat you any longer. He had to say something. 

He weaved through the hallway leading to the single bathrooms, where he could have sworn he’d heard you crying more than once. 

He’d watched you for months—the cringing, the choked sobs, the concealed anger. He’d watched the way Abraxas treated you as though you were nothing more than an accessory. You weren’t a beautiful woman, desperate to be loved and held and worshiped. You were nothing to him. You were a status symbol, something to hang his money and title on and watch as you fell behind. It made Tom feel ill.

He didn’t have anything to give you, anything to show you. His possessions were resigned to the things he could fit into the little leather trunk beneath his dormitory bed. He didn’t know love—familial or otherwise. He didn’t know how to touch, how to worship, how to care properly. But he did know how to protect, how to defend, how to fight. Especially when concerning something he cared about. He couldn’t care well, but he couldn’t deny the feelings he felt toward you. You were something he couldn’t explain. But an explanation had never been his concern. Only your well-being had.

He stopped in front of the girls’ lavatory, knuckles lingering inches away from the door’s wooden surface, weighing out his options. 

He could turn away from this—not get involved, take an early night in, study a bit extra before tomorrow morning, and pretend like nothing happened. Or, he could knock. He could ask if you were alright, show you what it was like to be properly loved in his own delusional portrayal of it. He hadn’t felt desire like this in a long time. In fact, he rarely felt desire, but the feeling that circulated his body when he thought of you, saw you, breathed you in, could only be described as such. The closest thing he could find to describing the way he felt about you was possession. You were an article of his belongings that he could not lose, could not imagine losing.

But you weren’t a belonging. You weren’t a possession. You weren’t something to be held down. 

He knocked. 

He heard a distant sniffle and a small voice. “Just a minute.”

“It’s…er, Tom…Riddle,” he said, unsure. He cleared his throat, shrugging a bit of confidence back into his body. 

“Tom?” 

The door clicked and slowly slid open, revealing your swollen lips and tear-streaked cheeks. You looked positively ethereal. He cleared his throat once more. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked. “Just tell Abraxas I’ll be out in—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I was coming to check on you, to see if you were alright. I’m not sure what he’s doing.”

You looked shocked. “Oh, well, I’m alright, Tom. Thanks, though.”

Just as you began to push the door back closed, he spoke up once more, placing a gentle but firm hand on the door. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” you asked suspiciously, fingers twitching anxiously against the door. 

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes at himself. Of course, you’d be unsure why this quiet friend of your boyfriend’s wanted to speak with you. Tom had barely said two words to you the entirety of the time he’d known you. There would be no reason for him to speak with you, if not to just benefit Abraxas. 

“About Malfoy,” he said, clenching his jaw around the name in disgust.

“Why?” you asked, eyes flickering around.

“Allow me a few words, please?” he said, knuckles rolling against the door where he prevented it from closing. You seemed to be questioning his being here. It seemed that his concern that you’d mistake this for him trying to help Abraxas out was weighing on your mind. 

“I’m not here because of him,” Tom explained. “It’s about you.”

“Okay,” you finally breathed. “We can go to my room if you’d like.”

“Sure,” he nodded, once again painfully unsure. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He just wanted you to know what you were worth, what you meant to people other than your asshole boyfriend. 

He held a hand out, asking silently for your will to go with him, to trust him with your whole being, just for a few seconds. Hesitantly, you placed your smaller hand into his and sucked in a breath as the two of you whipped upwards in a swirl of magic. He controlled the Disapparation, but you imagined your dormitory, if only to help angle the route. Whether or not you were aware he was a Legilimens didn’t matter to him. He tried not to pry into your mind too much. Still, for just a second, he glimpsed into your quiet brain to see your destination. 

Then both of your pairs of feet touched cold, stone ground, surrounded by endless quiet and darkness. You whispered a quiet spell, and Tom’s attention was snagged by the fireplace in the corner as it roared to life, bringing with it easy warmth and ambient noise. 

You let out a sigh and, with your arms crossed tightly over your shuddering body, turned back to him. “Alright, Tom, what is it?”

“I think you should leave Malfoy,” he said abruptly, not giving himself any time to question if this was a good idea any further. 

Your lips parted in unmistakable disbelief. A nervous chuckle quickly spilled from your mouth before you were able to stop it. 

“What…?”

“I don’t understand what you could possibly see in him,” Tom said, shaking his head frustratedly. He took a step closer to you. “Please, understand what I see from my point of view.” 

You shuffled your feet nervously, trading your weight back and forth between each one. Your eyes flickered around just as they always did when Abraxas was using you as a symbolic punching bag. Tom flinched at that. He didn’t want you to be nervous around him. 

“Please,” he said. “Don’t be nervous. I don’t want you to be frightened of me.”

He took another step closer, drawing your eyes back to him. You couldn’t believe the words leaving this infamous Slytherin king’s mouth.

“That’s silly, Tom,” you scoffed. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to force your eyes back to his no matter which way your head turned. He didn’t want to upset you further, but you needed to see your worth. He wouldn’t give up until you did. 

“That’s like your whole thing,” you chuckled, your smile genuine for a moment. “Everyone’s scared of Tom Riddle. Even Abraxas.”

“Is that so?” he asked, smirking ever so slightly. It was satisfying to him that such a bighead moneybag was frightened of him. With all of the ego and pride and wealth that Abraxas boasted every single day, it seemed impossible that he’d be willing to bow down to anyone. Except for Tom, it seemed. 

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled. “He used to prattle on about how annoyingly perfect you were—your grades, your reputation, your looks…” Your eyes flickered away.

“He said that?” Tom asked, holding back a laugh.

“Yes, he’s said those things multiple times,” you sighed. “He’s so pathetic, I—oh, sorry. I know he’s your friend.”

“Please, that boy is not my friend. Especially not after I’ve witnessed him treat you the way he does.”

“Why does that even matter to you?” you scoffed, refraining from rolling your eyes at his sudden interest in you. For Merlin’s sake, he hadn’t even spoken with you for more than a few seconds at a time before this. 

“Because you…” His options for a response rapidly danced in his head. He didn’t want to screw this up. Anything he said right now could completely throw this whole thing off the rails, and that is the last thing he wanted. “You deserve better. Someone better.”

“What, like you?” you laughed meanly, rolling your eyes. “I should’ve known that this was just a ploy to fuck with your friend’s head. Find a soft spot in the relationship, wiggle your way in, and then show me off, right? That’s how this was going to go.”

“No, that wasn’t my intention at all,” Tom responded. You seemed shocked, like you genuinely couldn’t imagine his desires were anything but cruel and selfish. “All I wanted was to check on you and to give my opinion on the way Abraxas treats you. You truly don’t deserve it.”

“And what do I deserve, Tom? Since you know me so well.” You were getting angry. He could tell. He didn’t know what to do to turn this conversation back around, so he decided to give his honest thoughts and hope for the best. If you never wanted to talk to him again after this, at least he’d hopefully been able to sway you away from Abraxas. 

“Someone…loving. Someone to know the way you like to be held, like to be talked to, like to be touched as if it were their own desires. Someone who puts your needs before theirs and then some…” Tom took another step toward you. He was now only a foot from you. He could hear your stifled breathing, could hear the sound of your fingernails picking nervously along the side of your fingers. 

Though your nervousness had kept you from looking into Abraxas’ eyes as often as you could, the kind of anxiety you felt around Tom was not the same. This kind made it impossible to tear your eyes away from his. His lips parted gently as one of his hands raised between the two of you. 

“What else?” you murmured, swallowing thickly, the motion not being lost on Tom’s ever-watchful eye. 

His hand rose even more, slowly coming forward just enough to press a slow, cold fingertip to your hairline. He eased a strand of hair away from your face, tracing its length all the way down to where it met behind your ear. You shuddered beneath his gaze and touch. 

“He wants you to be something you’re not,” he whispered. You could feel his breath on your face. “You’re not silent, you’re not dumb, you’re not something to be owned.”

Your chest began to move quicker, your breaths shortening and intensifying all at the same time. Tom’s eyes flickered down to where your uniform shirt parted at the third button, only slightly teasing the part of your cleavage and the scattered beauty marks that resided there. If he stepped an inch closer, he’d be able to glimpse your bra. 

“You don’t like his music, you don’t like his friends, you don’t like anything about him,” he continued. “The only good thing about him is his money, and I can get you that.”

Your lips trembled. The hand that had pushed the hair out of your face rose once more. His thumb traced across your bottom lip with a featherlight touch, so gentle that you weren’t sure you’d even know it was there if you couldn’t see it. His other hand selected your hand and brought it up between the two of you.

“You need love—gentle and clawing and all-encompassing. Don't you want to be loved? To be satisfied? He cannot give you that. Let me give it to you.” He placed his lips to the palm of your hand, dark eyes never leaving yours.

The tiniest gasp permeated the air between the two of you as he knocked out of the haze you set across his body. He’d walked you up against the post of your bed and had trapped your body against it, knee separating your thighs, lips so close they brushed against yours with every move.

“Fuck,” he whispered, slowly pulling away from you. You let out a deep breath as your body seemed to decompress. “I’m sorry.” His voice was nothing more than a murmur. 

“It’s okay,” you responded. “Would you?”

Tom’s eyes flicked back over to you. “What?”

“You asked me to let you give it to me, that love you described…,” you said, voice suddenly a bit more confident than it had been. “Would you give it to me?”

“I can’t love you right,” Tom breathed. “But I could love you in the way I know how—with undying, all-consuming obsession.”

You didn’t say anything. Just chewed your lip nervously, though you seemed to have made up your mind.

---

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[scarletfasinera]

The way grown adults in their twenties still talk about how they didn't learn about x historical event or y horrific thing the US did back when they were in highschool as if it's any excuse for their willful ignorance is like actually so pathetic. It's four years of schooling that you had a decade ago of course you didn't learn every single thing in the world, no one does in any school in any country. You're not special. It's time to grow up and make the effort to learn things for yourself, You're Not In Highschool Anymore

[bycaligula]

heart to heart

pairing ; rodrick heffley x f!reader

summary ; there’s a first time for everything — rejection, heartbreak, kissing, humping your friend…you know, the usual.

warnings ; SMUT,, p in v, virginity loss, reader has lady parts, dry humping, swearing, rodrick’s the loser we all know he (not so) secretly is, sorta sub!virgin!rodrick, virgin!reader

a/n ; never posted smut on anything before so…🔥🔥 i like to imagine reader is plus sized and gothic but yk whatever u wanna imagine her as idgaf, anyway hope y’all like (also experimenting in which perspective i like more so this one’s in first person)

first time we fucked, we were both heartbroken— him over heather, and me over some stupid poser punk boy from school. we laid in his bed together, both sulking and talking to each other about how things could’ve went with our crushes.

we take turn taking hits from rodrick’s sloppily rolled joint. we both decide we shouldn’t get too high, just in case susan arrives home early. we’re not crazy high, but high enough to get those risky, crazy ideas and laugh at stupid things we say to each other. eventually, we end up rolled on our sides facing each other. we don’t say anything, just staring with hooded eyes and silly smiles.

“you know…” i begin to say, scanning my eyes over rodrick’s face, taking in every little detail i see, “you’re pretty cute, i guess. i’ve never noticed before until now…” he chuckles, “yeah, i guess you’re pretty cute too, y/n…”

i lick my bottom lip, deep in a certain thought. roderick mimics my action, watching me. i take a deep breath before uttering out, “maybe…”

“maybe, what?” he asks curiously. i hesitate, but continue nonetheless, “maybe, we don’t have to be, um, lonely…in that way…like, i mean…” “what do you mean?” his questioning is innocent, almost like he wouldn’t dare jump to perverted thoughts like he’d usually do because we’re such close friends…

“well, you know…i’m a girl, you’re a boy…” i trail off. my once avoiding eyes are now back on his, staring right into his dark irises. i hear him swallow, he seems to understand what i’m implying this time. he bites him lip, and now i’m the one mimicking him. he nods in slow motion, it seems like. he whispers a borderline silent, “okay.”

i, very, very, slowly push myself up onto my elbow. i gauge his reaction with every small movement.

in all my time of knowing rodrick, he’s never really been with a girl. he’s never kissed a girl, or even held hands with a girl in a romantic fashion. i, on the other hand, has been with two guys. none were very serious, just casual flings— sharing nothing more than a few kisses. he likes to talk big game, especially to greg, and act all confident and flirtatious. in reality, when me and him are alone and hanging out as friends he wasn’t so cocky. he was actually quite ‘dorky’, similar to his brother, and desperate to impress his peers.

now, i’m hovering over him propped up on my elbow as he lays flat on his back. his lips are parted, and his gaze occasionally wanders down to my own lips. i, slowly and gently, lower my face to his. i hesitate for a brief moment before lightly grazing my lips with his, both of our eyes screwed shut. just for a second, our mouths are just barely touching. he closes the gap completely, pressing his lips against mine with no further movement. i let out a breath i didn’t know i was holding in. i part my lips, kissing him properly and bringing my other hand up to rest on his cheek.

he suddenly gains enough confidence to grab my waist, carefully pulling me closer and closer until i’m pressed up again his warm, lanky body. the kiss is sloppy, but slow and gentle. it’s almost as if we’re trying to be careful with each other, both fearing if we make one wrong move, we’ll mess it all up.

i smile into our open mouthed, breathy kisses. i feel his warmth radiating off of him, it’s addictive. with every touch of his calloused hands to my waist, every breath of his i feel on my face, and graze of his pretty lips against mine, the butterflies slam in my stomach. it gets me hot, doing this with roderick.

when i said i’ve shared a few kisses with a couple guys, i meant awkward, tight lipped, quick ‘let’s get this over with’ kisses; nothing like this.

i lap my tongue into his open mouth. he moans oh so quietly at that simple action, but my tummy does flips and my face heats up like it’s been lit on fire. i lose the little self control i tried to keep. my hands move without a second thought, one to tangle in his dark, messy hair and the other to rest along his jawline. my leg whips around to straddle his hips, pressing down on the poor unexpecting boy. he gasps, which fades into a strained groan. the gentle kissing becomes feverish and needy, lapping my tongue against his desperately. he wraps his long arms around me, forcing my back into an arch; rib cage to rib cage, heart to heart. his hands wander would you expect anything else from rodrick from down to rub my hips, to up to grip my shoulders. our tongues wrestle and invade past the others lips. we share whines and little moans, reveling in each others warmth and need for intimacy. we breath heavily between each kiss, taste buds and mouth covered in each others saliva.

finally, i pull away, but not without roderick attempting to chase my lips. i lick my lips clean of our mixed spit. my chest is heaving and my heart is thumping as i speak, “rodrick?” he hums in acknowledgment. his eyes hooded and gazing at me full of lustful infatuation. i feel his heartbeat drum against mine, his chest pushing against mine with every labored inhale. i let my hands wander down to his chest, balancing myself as i lay meeting his stare. “was that okay?” i whisper. he hums first, nodding his head in shallow shakes. “why wouldn’t it be?” his confused tone makes me smile. i laugh, shaking my head, “i- i don’t know…”

he lifts his head to bring his lips back to mine in a sweet kiss. i trail my kisses to his jaw, then down his neck. i suck and bite softly on the column of his throat, bragging my tongue over each tender bite. he moans lowly, his hands caressing my crop top exposed lower back. his touch leaves a fiery path in its wake. i tug at his black loded diper tee. he gets the memo and i sit up a little in my spot on his hips to allow him to tug it off. as soon as the fabric is thrown to the floor, i let my fingertips feel his smooth chest. they run down past his bellybutton to his little happy trail of dark hair. my thighs clench at the feeling, my hips unintentionally wiggling against him. his eyes snap open and he groans, that’s when i notice his dick is firm under me. i snap my head up to look at his face, his eyes are now screwed shut and his lips are slightly parted.

“oh, shit…” he mumbles under his breath. i have to make a decision now. even though our friendship might be ruined after this little make out we just had, am i willing to ruin it for good by fucking him?

yeah, i think i am.

i can’t ignore the pit of fire nestling between my abdomen and the slightly uncomfortable wetness pooling in my panties. caught up in my thoughts, i didn’t notice rodrick had opened his eyes again and he’s staring right down at where our hips are connected. i decide ‘whatever, fuck it’ and lift my shirt above my head to throw it as fast as i can. my lacy bra exposed to his view. his eyebrows are raised, his cheeks dusted with a pretty pink.

“you can touch me, i want you to.” he nods, i gently grab his wrist bringing to my breast. he inhales sharply, softly kneading it. i whine at the feeling. the look on his face could make me cum alone. his hard on pokes at my thigh. i roll my hips down, my core grazing his through my jeans. he chokes on a moan, “y/n!” i smile down at him and giggle, “what?”, i repeat the action.

“that!”

“do you want me to stop?”

“no! it’s just- oh, fuck-“

“just what?”

now, i’m just taunting him. how could i not? he’s cute when he’s flustered. i plant my hands firmly on his chest, and repeatedly grind my core down on his. he grips my hips tightly, moaning at this new feeling. our moans and groans blend together. i speed up, my head hung as my face is contorted in focus and pleasure. he bucks his hips up, and uses his hold on mine to move me back and forth. i feel like we’re two wild animals, humping each other with such desperation and fervor.

“good- feels so good..” he whines out. yeah, this feels good, but i crave more. i abruptly stop, and he groans in frustration. “y/n?-“ “wait.”

i hurry and roll off him to remove my pants, kicking them off my feet. he sees what i’m doing, and is quick to follow. i stand on my knees next to him on the bed, he observes me ready to mimic whatever action i’m to do next. i hold his gaze and slowing pull my matching lace panties down my legs. a thin string of arousal connects my cunt with my panties as they slide down my thighs. he lays watching me, basically drooling as he sees a part of a girl he’s over ever seen in porno magazines. i hear him utter a holy fuck and a i can’t believe this is happening under his breath.

i remove my bra next, the slightly chilly air from his attic bedroom making my nipples harden. too mesmerized by the sight of my completely naked body, he doesn’t notice me reach over to slip my fingertip under the band of his briefs. he feels my warm hands on his skin, and snaps out of his trance. “oh! yeah, yeah, i’ll-“ he pulls down his black underwear and kicks them off his feet, his hard cock springing out. it’s bright pink tip leaks with pre-cum. i practically drool at the sight. i reach out to graze my fingers over his shaft. he softly moans at the small touch. i lean and kiss up his chest while i run my gentle fingertips over him.

i smile down at him, my face heating up at the fact that this is rodrick. that this isn’t a dream and it’s actually happening. the buzz of our shared high has basically worn off, and the reality of it all hits me. it causes a wave of shyness, my cheeks dusted with the same pink roderick has been collecting on his pretty face.

i push my shyness down, forcing myself to not let my nerves ruin this. i pull roderick to move ontop of me as i lay down on my back. “i want you to lead the way, is that okay?” i question, watching him adjust to hover over me. he nods and gives me a toothy grin, “yeah, totally.”

he takes this time to scan over my body sprawled out underneath him, “you’re really cute, y/n, really pretty…” he leans in to kiss me sweetly as i wrap my legs loosely around his waist. he takes that as a sign to look down and grab his cock, taking a deep breath and lining it up with my entrance. a low groan escaped him as he pushes in. i grip his shoulders tightly, feeling a burning pain. “are you okay?” he asks when he sees the grimace on my face.

“yes, i’m okay, i’m okay. please- please, keep going,” i stutter out. he continues to push his length into me, after a moment he bottoms out. “i-,” he chokes on his words, “im all- all the way in.” he moves from his position from hovering over me, holding his weight with his arms, to completely laying over me. his arms snake around to hold me close to him, and i do the same. slowly, he starts shallowing thrusting into my weeping cunt. the pain is quickly swept away with spikes of pleasure shooting up my body.

“rod- rodrick!” i gasp out, my nails clawing at his back. he speeds up, starting from shallow thrusts to quick slams on his hips into mine. he mumbles out praises and whimpers of my name into the nape of my neck. he fucks into me with fervor, “you’re so fucking tight, ohh my god…”

unwrapping himself from my body, he raises up to watch his cock slam into my hole. drools falls from his open lips. he grips with my hips tight, digging his nails into the plush skin. pressure builds in my lower belly. “i- i think im close, rodrick, please- more, more!”

i reach my hand down the rub my bundle of nerves between us. but before i could start, he pushes my hand out the way to press his thumb against it, moving in small circles. “right there?”

“yes! oh god-“

his breathing becomes labored and the rhythm he had stutters. the pressure building in me snaps and my back arches off the mattress. my lips form an O, a silent scream rips through me along with my orgasm. with two final thrusts he freezes up, joining me in euphoric relief, and his head hangs low with a low drawn out moan. i feel his hot seed paint my inner walls. his chest is glittering with a layer of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead. after a second or two, he drags his softening cock out of my clamping walls. he watches his cum drip out of my hole, seeing it clamping around nothing but the white liquid escaping.

his gaze takes in my spent body from bottom to top. my breasts rising and falling from the intensity of my orgasm, struggling to catch my breath.

rodrick swears he can see her glowing, like an angel sent from heaven just for him, surrounded by light. how could he not see it before? he feels stupid, what did he see in heather? him and y/n have almost everything in common; our taste in music, our style, among so many other things he couldn’t even think of in this moment.

he falls down onto the bed, making my body bounce a little of the bed. i giggle, and turn my head to look at him. he was one step ahead of me, already looking right at me. he pulls me closer, hugging me tightly. “y/n, i-“

the front door slams. “kids! i’m home!”

it’s susan.

we’re completely naked, there’s a half smoked joint resting on his nightstand, and we have no idea where we threw our clothes.

“…fuck.”

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes while Tim has sat atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges into the room, past them and onto the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

But it’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He secretly wouldn’t really mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stayed behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason keeps his head down as he blindly reaches for the spoon in his cereal and chucks it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[nezuscribe]

(slightly suggestive)

another little drabble for arranged marriage!gojo but imagine a moment before he confessed but something was looming over the two of you. it was crossing the line of friends, not necessarily husband and wife, but two people desperately in love and didn't know how to say it.

you were in one of your late-night frenzies, your brain so muddled with every thought that you decided to do what you knew best: bake.

you often find yourself in this situation as of late, but it truly seems to be the only thing that helps. you wanted to tell gojo how you were feeling, but it was too far in, so you decided something simple and sugary would help you in the moment.

at this point, the walk to the kitchens was something you could do blind, and considering how many times you did this, you already knew where all the ingredients were.

you set out your sugar and flower, and go rummaging in the cold cellar for some butter and eggs. you try not to think about how at dinner gojo slid closer to you, your arms touching as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. or how a couple days ago he had found you in the library, reading next to a windowsill, cozying up next to you as he read the book over your shoulder.

you're so lost in your head with sifting the ingredients that you fail to realize that the very man himself had come up secretly behind you, curiously watching you in your element.

(he'd never admit that he'd first gone to your room, and only came down here after he realized you were gone).

but, unlike the last couple of times, you'd gotten used to his stealthy ways. he was quiet, sure, but you could recognize him by his slight breath alone, or the way he smelled faintly of cloves.

you try not to let your breathing hitch, or let a smile grow on your face as you decide to break the silence.

"if you try to scare me while i'm baking you better rethink your choices," you warn him and hear gojo snicker quietly behind you.

gojo moves from where he was standing, and he leans his back against the counter next to you, craning his neck to look over at your bowl.

your eyes dart to the side, to the way his arms are resting behind him as he balances himself back on them (or the way his arms bulge and veins pop).

"what's on your mind tonight?" gojo asks, knowing you only do this now whenever you're stressed out.

"not much," you mutter, despite wanting to say you, you're on my mind.

he tsks, not buying your lie as he leans in a little close, his head blocking your view of your mixing bowl as he tries to get a little taste with his fingers.

"hey!" you cry, smacking him lightly on the back of his neck, "your hands are all grimy!"

you watch as he peers at you from the corner of his eyes, glaring at your offensive remark as he retracts away, a small pout on his face as you grin in slight victory.

"my hands are clean," you hear him mumble petulantly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his antics. the closer the two of you got, the more you found out that his closed-off and aloof demeanor was just a facade for a dramatic, grouchy man-child.

there's a comfortable silence for a moment, one where you're mixing and one where he watches you mix. you don't really notice the quiet anymore, just another added sound when you and gojo grow more comfortable together.

"how was your day?" he finally asks, a simple question, but you know he's using it as a mask to find out what was wrong with you.

"good," you say with a shrug, starting to gently fold in your wet mixture with your dry one, "you weren't at dinner so i was actually able to eat in peace," you add, trying to sound indifferent when really it's what spurred this entire thing on. how, when you realized that you missed seeing him, talking to him, being near him, you were really, really, missing him. and that's not how friends are supposed to act. or, at least, from what you've heard.

gojo smiles, a soft look on his face. you're trying to be sarcastic, he knows that, but there's something...deeper behind your words, something that he too feels.

"the eastern tribe took up more time than i thought they would," he explains, his blue eyes glowing when he notices the way you slightly relax, "i tried telling them that my wife was waiting for me, but apparently peace negotiations can't be postponed."

you bite your lips, trying to hold back your giddy smile at his words. you know he's probably teasing you, using the phrase my wife as a way to get out of a boring meeting, but you love it nonetheless.

he knows you do.

"those bastards," you murmur teasingly, hearing his loud laugh as he lightly shoves you with the point of his boot.

"yeah, well, they don't have wives back home," he crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line, "so they don't know the feeling."

you swallow thickly, not looking over at him when he says that.

there's another silence as you continue to fold the batter, sensing that same feeling wash over the two of you.

"let me grab a..." you turn around, head craning to look for a spoon to dip in the batter, needing to make sure the sweetness wasn't too overbearing (and because you liked tasting the batter before it was sent off to be baked thoroughly), but stop when gojo pulls the bowl in closer to him.

you watch as he glides his finger across the sides, not letting it touch the actual bulk of the mixture, and brings it forth towards your lips.

his brows cock upwards, as if he was waiting for you to try it.

you give him a look, nose slightly wrinkled.

"i swear my hands are clean," he promises, crossing one hand over his chest as a sort of pledge, but that's not what holding you back, shouldn't he know that?

your mind is working to beat the thrill of your heart, the one that's pulling you towards him like a magnet, the one that desperately wants to have his finger in your mouth.

you bite your cheek for a second, eyes flickering up from his to his finger, and some sort of heat in you takes control as one hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your parted lips.

your tongue darts out, your mouth closing over the digit as you taste the sugary batter coating your tongue. you feel dizzy, your stomach twisting, a heat taking over your body as your tongue swipes over it, licking it clean.

it's nothing overexaggerated, nothing too crazy. you lick his finger the way you'd like your own, but fuck, this isn't your own finger and gojo's looking at you with his pupils blown wide, the blacks overtaking the blue in his eyes.

your hand is still holding his wrist, your lips gliding over it as you pull away, breathing slightly less when you glance up at him.

gojo swallows thickly, hoping you don't see the bulge that's growing in his pants.

"good?" he chokes out, his voice thick in his throat.

"yeah," you mutter, the batter still lingering on your tastebuds, "it's perfect."

fuck, you're both screwed.

[sknyuz]

prompt — “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”

pairing — woozi x reader

genre — fluffy fluff, opposites attract, tiny bit of woozi’s inner turmoil but in a cute way

warnings — light swearing, mutual pining, woozi being emotionally constipated but adorable about it

word count — 600(?) i literally planned longer but my brain farted

note: nonchalant woozi + sunshine reader <3 thank you for this request hehe.

masterlist

he’s watching you again.

not in a weird way. not in a creepy way. probably.

it’s just—you’re laughing. again. and it’s the kind of laugh that bursts out of you like soda fizz, bright and sparkling, and it fills the whole studio. and he’s just—well...

“hyung,” seungkwan says, walking past with his laptop and a raised brow, “you’re staring again.” he sing-songs, rolling his eyes.

woozi blinks, caught.

“i’m not,” he replies, flatly.

“sure,” seungkwan sings, disappearing down the hall.

woozi sighs and sinks further into his chair. you’re sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, scrolling through your phone, earbuds in and completely oblivious to the absolute chokehold you’ve put him in.

and that’s the problem. you always are.

you’re warm, expressive, a walking serotonin shot. you light up every room you walk into and talk with your hands and cry over dog videos and compliment strangers’ outfits just because. you're the type of person who remembers birthdays, texts people good luck before big meetings, and bakes cookies on random tuesdays "just because you felt like it."

and woozi?

woozi is the guy who pretends not to hear compliments because he doesn’t know how to take them, he expresses love through perfectly mixed vocal tracks and buying your favorite snacks and pretending he’s not checking his phone every two minutes waiting for your reply.

and yet you’re here all the time.

you come by the studio even when he doesn’t ask. you bring coffee and snacks and once a tiny plush keychain because "it looked like you and i couldn't not buy it." you ask about his day like you really want to know. you hug him goodbye even though he never hugs back (not properly, anyway).

and sometimes you sit quietly beside him for hours, just vibing, while he works on music. humming under your breath. asking questions about things he thought no one ever noticed. like the way he softens the instrumental under the bridge to highlight the vocals. or how he layers harmonies to make the chorus sound fuller.

you notice everything—and it’s driving him insane.

because he’s not supposed to feel this soft. not when he barely knows what to do with his feelings half the time, not when you smile at him like you know something he doesn’t, like you’re waiting for him to catch up.

“you okay?” you ask suddenly, pulling out your earbuds and tilting your head at him. he startles slightly, coughing. “yeah.”

“you were spacing out,” you grin. “thinking hard, genius?”

he huffs a laugh, turns back to his screen. “something like that.”

you shuffle over and peer at his monitor, chin on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t move. doesn’t breathe. you’re close enough that he can smell your shampoo. something citrusy. fresh. “is this the new demo?” you whisper, like it’s a secret.

he nods.

“can i hear it?”

“it’s not done yet.”

“i don’t care.” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear.

and he sighs, already knowing that he’d lost to you with just one look. he hits play and pretends his heart isn’t doing backflips while you listen with that furrowed brow and soft smile. you always listen like this—like the song is a person you’re trying to understand.

when it ends, you turn to him, eyes wide. “woozi. that’s so good. it sounds like falling in love.”

he snorts, ducking his head. “that’s not what it’s about.”

“still feels like it,” you shrug.

he glances at you, a little helpless. you’re too close. too real. too much.

“you always say the dumbest stuff,” he mutters, but his voice is weirdly fond. you grin at this like you know you’ve won something. “you love it.”

and that’s the thing, isn’t it?

he does.

god help him, but he does. and his grumpy disposition falters as he rubs his palm into his eyes.

“i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman,” he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.

oh, but you hear it.

you blink, going still. lips part like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you stare at him with an amused look on your face.

his eyes widen slightly, and for the first time in a long time, he feels his composure crack.

“…shit,” he curses, throwing his head back. “did i say that out loud?”

you blink again. then smile, slow and warm and soft enough to melt him right there in the chair.

“yeah,” you say. “you did.”

a beat passes. he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“…okay.” he pathetically mumbles,

and then you’re laughing. again. that same fizzy, unstoppable laugh, and you bump your shoulder into his and say, “about time.”

he stares at you, and you stare back. then you reach over and take his hand—gently, casually, like you’ve done it a hundred times—and squeeze.

“don’t worry,” you whisper. “seems like we’re both in trouble, then. you make me feel like i got a few screws loose, lee jihoon.”

and woozi, ever the calm, composed, nonchalant musical genius that he is—completely short-circuits.

join here!

if you liked this, i appreciate a reblog as well :3 it helps my works and writing spread to other ppl very effectively !!

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu

[drewswife]

summary — Rafe meets your 2-year-old son for the first time

warnings — none fluff kinda

a/n — this been in my drafts for a whileeeeeeeeeee part 2

My palms were sweaty as I adjusted Leo on my hip. His small hand clutched a well-loved stuffed dinosaur, its felt scales worn smooth. Today was a big day. A really big day. Rafe was finally going to meet Leo.

We'd been together for a few months, a whirlwind of late-night talks and stolen moments. He knew about Leo, of course. How could he not? My world revolved around my little man. But this was different. This was the first time these two important parts of my life would collide.

The doorbell rang, and my heart leaped into my throat. I took a deep breath, gave Leo a reassuring squeeze, and opened the door.

Rafe stood there, a nervous smile on his face. He looked endearingly awkward, his usual easy confidence slightly dimmed. In his hands, he held a small, brightly colored book.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes finding mine.

"Hi," I replied, trying to match his calm demeanor, even though my insides were doing the cha-cha slide. "Come in."

He stepped inside, his gaze immediately drawn to the small human nestled on my hip. Leo, usually shy around new people, peered at Rafe with wide, curious eyes.

"Hey there, little guy," Rafe said gently, crouching down. He held out the book. "I brought you a friend."

Leo hesitated for a moment, then reached out a chubby hand and took the book. It was about a friendly monster. He immediately began flipping through the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Rafe looked up at me, a hopeful expression on his face. "He likes it?"

I smiled, relief washing over me. "He loves books. You scored major points."

The next hour was a careful dance. Rafe kept his distance at first, letting Leo explore him on his own terms. He spoke softly, asking Leo about his dinosaur and pointing out the pictures in the book. Leo, surprisingly, seemed intrigued. He’d occasionally glance up at Rafe, then back down at his book, a small, hesitant curiosity blooming.

The real breakthrough came when Leo, mid-roar, stumbled slightly.

Before I could react, Rafe was there, steadying him with a gentle hand on his back. Leo looked up at him, his eyes wide for a moment, then he giggled and went right back to his dinosaur.

From that moment on, the ice seemed to melt. Leo started inching closer to Rafe, eventually plopping down on the floor near him, still engrossed in his book. Rafe didn't try to force interaction, but he kept a watchful eye on him, answering my questions in a low voice.

Later, as Rafe was getting ready to leave, Leo did something that made my heart swell. He toddled over to Rafe, clutching his dinosaur, and held it out.

Rafe looked surprised, then a warm smile spread across his face. He knelt down and gently took the dinosaur. "Thank you, buddy," he said softly.

Leo then did the most Leo thing imaginable. He yawned widely, rubbed his eyes, and leaned against Rafe's leg, his little body heavy with sleepiness.

Rafe looked up at me, his eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn't seen before. I knew in that moment that this was the beginning of something special. It wasn't just about Rafe and me anymore. It was about us, all three of us, finding our own rhythm.

As I carried a now-sleeping Leo to bed, I glanced back at Rafe, who was still standing by the door, the little monster book in his hand. He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes.

"He's amazing," Rafe whispered.

"He is," I agreed, my heart full.

🏷,@zenithsturniolo @starrii-sturns @spencerreid66

[comikbook]

so you talk about your religious trauma and it’s a major theme in your art, and i was wondering what your current relationship with religion is? is in, do you practice any religion or consider yourself religious? if it isn’t too personal :)

im willing to answer !! i dont talk about it on most of my socials outright because people tend to misinterpret things intensely when it comes to this kind of topic, but ill give it a shot trying to write it out. In fact, I will give the whole story of my experience with religion. So its gonna be long.

there will be talk of psychosis, eating disorders, delusions, and self harm in this post. However I will not be graphic in my descriptions.

To start out I suppose for context, my parents are not catholic. my mom doesn’t talk about religion, and my dad doesnt follow anything in the real sense, but practices a lot of principals of buddhism. My nana was catholic, and my extended family vary in their religious beliefs.

That being said, (i think to my nana’s influence) when i started school i attended a small private catholic school which has since been shut down. fun fact ! if you’ve ever watched the Netflix doc “The Keepers” my school was only about 3 miles from where one of the nun’s bodies were found. The priest who was suspected to be the one to blame previously taught at the school i went to before moving to the one he is known for teaching at. Not really relevant, but i did always feel a bit uneasy there as a child so it was a weird thing to find out later.

Anyways, I attended this catholic school for 3 years. pre-k, kindergarden, and first grade. I would often ask to use the restroom and just wander around the halls or hide in the bathroom. I would get scolded for asking questions that were “inappropriate”. The one i remember most vividly was “If God created all of us, who created God ?” to one of the nuns, who became upset with me. We weren’t taught whar we should have been, and when I did move to public school i was far behind my peers in specifically science, math, and history, but I digress. This is my one class photo from our yearbook !

It is important to note that my first remembered instance of psychosis started when i attended this private school. My mom was picking me up one day, there was heavy traffic. She was trying to get over and was complaining no one would let her. I caught myself staring at my reflection in the front mirror of the car, and the clicking of the blinker kind of overwhelmed me. In the constant clicking I “decoded” a message that involved me being told to do something particularly violent. In my small brain in addition to my outside influences, I thought the person that sent this message to me was God. I was confused as to why, but I felt i did something wrong to deserve it. i quietly prayed in the back seat internally for forgiveness.

So I started to receive more messages from “God” commanding me to do something or another, typically vile in some way. i would hear this voice in my head frequently, until eventually it faded out and stopped. I dont remember when it stopped, i just remember i had this experience as a child and then when i was a little older i just didnt think about it anymore.

I do have gaps in my memory of my childhood, pretty big ones, for reasons im still struggling to understand to this day. So that makes things fuzzy. I do remember falling back into religion briefly in middle school, but eventually fell out of it again.

As i approached the end of highschool my mental health was tanking. Mostly with depression and anxiety, however this wouldnt be the worst it would get. In 2019 I was in college and things were getting increasingly worse. I was one of the few people that loved the isolation of the quarantine actually, i fear if not for that what was to come would have been way worse.

My symptoms of psychosis started to creep back into my life. I was already isolating before the quarantine, but got worse after it had started. I know i said i enjoyed it, and i did, but it also fed into some bad habits. Anyways I was becoming increasingly scared and paranoid, I was actively self harming, I was extremely depressed. I had plans to take my own life, a few of them actually. I started eating less. I didnt think much of it, I was just depressed, i have been depressed most of my life so this was just a particularly bad bout for me is what i thought.

That is, until one night where I had my first psychotic episode. It remains to be the worst and only very big episode i have had. I dealt with it mostly alone, never alerting my family of it. I was on the phone with one friend i had at the time, although they were not the kindest to me overall. Despite that they sat with me. This episode led to me standing in one place for over 2 hours too scared to move. When I finally did, it seemed to trigger a more violent outburst.

I wont go into too much detail but i left the experience cried out, bloodied, and heavily bruised. My legs were entirely black and blue for over a month following. After this episode I finally decided to try to get help, and I met with my psychiatrist for the first time. I was immediately put on several antidepressants which ended up being beneficial but in the beginning caused me to lose my appetite entirely. This is when i fell more and more into my eating disorder. With this though, I was still experiencing delusions and hallucinations and got put on my first antipsychotic.

It helped with my symptoms, and it helped me get back to a normal weight. Even tho at the time I was abusing my adderall I was still able to get my body (mostly) back to normal, at least physically. That being said, while my symptoms were lessened they were not gone, it just became less scary to me. Maybe it was because I was being desensitized, but thats something to ponder another time.

I started to become more and more infatuated with catholicism again from that original episode forward. I was obsessed and that voice of god returned to me. I started hearing clicking and chirping coming from the back of my right ear, which ive dubbed as a “chip” in my brain placed by god for me to receive his messages. I thought there was an evil inside of me that needed to be let out, which i did by participating in frequent bloodletting to force out the bad, and make my body create newer, cleaner, and holier blood. This was something i felt I had to keep up often so that this evil force wouldnt take over. I was eventually able to stop self harming, and have been clean for over 2 years now. It is hard and i still feel the need to “cleanse” myself, but i try my best to push it down.

Fast foreward to 2022 and I would start the first piece in my painting series. I still experienced symptoms but much less frequently ! I started to detail my experience thru art. I would finish the first piece in my series titled “Forgive Me Father” in 2023. Since then I have made many more.

So we finally get to today. I have waited to talk about my current relationship with religion until the end as I felt the context was necessary, and to be honest it is complicated. As you can tell, It has effected me greatly and has come and gone in my life.

I would say from where I am now, I am not religious. A better way to put it i suppose is i consciously make the choice to not be. Like I said its complicated.

I like to think of it as there is two of me in my body. One is paranoid, scared, and extremely delusional. This is the part that still believes god is communicating with them. This is the person that still prays for forgiveness and cries over the fear of being sent to hell for their sins, all approved and constructed by god himself. and then theres my rational side, which exists im sure solely because of my medication. This part is extremely self aware, can tell when i am being delusional or irrational, who knows this is something caused by my illness. They exist side by side, at the same time, always. They fight in my head for control but always exist simultaniously, think of it like a pie chart. one may be more prevelant but the other is still always there.

So in a way, there is a lot I do personally believe. That being said the reason I do believe is because of my schizophrenia. So I choose to navigate my life as someone who actively does not believe as an attempt to not let the delusion control me. do i think people who are religious are delusional ? I do not, but I know in my personal case what leads me to believe these things is an unwell mind.

I still have an intense fascination with catholicism and religion in general. I think its a beautiful thing, it moves me, but i must keep it at a distance to avoid hurting me. It is not something I can actively engage in outside of general interest because it would kill me, and despite my previous statements i would like to live at least a little longer haha.

With all that said, and I doubt anyone will read this whole thing, its been a rollercoaster of a ride. If anyone has questions about it, feel free to ask. Im an open book about this stuff online most days, and Im willing to offer any information about it.

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[noisilyscreechingsong]

“The what?”

Danny and Duke had been having a pretty okay day. Duke got a ridiculous packet to complete from his professor, and Danny tripped down the stairs in the library, causing a ruckus that got everyone’s attention.

So yea, everything was going well until they decided to push their luck and go to a new coffee shop a bit further away. It wasn’t the coffee shop itself, but the goons that came out of nowhere to kidnap Tim Drake-Wayne who was getting an order to go, which turned into a gang fight in the middle of the street.

Danny and Duke, along with Tim, ended up sheltered behind a car and missed the opportunity to bunker down inside the shop.

“Well, this isn’t what I planned today,” Tim comments.

“Same,” Danny agrees.

“Maybe we can wait it out?” Duke suggests.

The other two give a look that says that it was not going to happen.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors for peeking,” Danny says, already holding out his fist.

“Bet.”

They look at Duke.

Peer Pressure works and he groans with clear discomfort at the situation.

Duke loses. A bullet whizzes past his head.

“Nope! Nope. Not doing that again.”

Tim rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but with Danny still there he bit his tongue.

“What’d you see?”

Duke looks at Tim like he’s crazy.

“Lots of people with guns,” he answers hysterically.

“Need a hand?”

Red Hood had swung down from the nearest rooftop, hand gun in both hands. He pops off three shots before having to duck behind the car with them.

“Hood, what are you doing here? This isn’t Crime Alley,” Tim asks like they bumped into each other at the supermarket.

Hood shrugs, “Close enough.”

“Oh sweet, can I borrow that?” Danny randomly asks.

Before anyone can question what he was talking about he was already reaching out to take the handgun off of Hood’s thigh.

“Whoa-“

Danny turns to look over the car’s hood and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.

The others pull him back quickly. He winces at the hard fall to his tailbone.

“Holy crap! Danny!”

“Dude, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Danny interrupts their freak out. “It’s not my fault his gun is broke.”

“The safety is still on, idiot,” Hood tilts his head.

“The what?” Danny asks in genuine confusion.

The three brothers all pause and look at him.

“The safety? On the gun? So there isn’t a misfire?” Tim explains. He was stuck between shocked and judgmental.

“This is why people who don’t know how to shoot shouldn’t touch guns,” Hood says in frustration while reaching to take it away.

Danny pulls it back out of reach.

“I know how to shoot, thanks. My parent’s weapons just don’t have safety things. I’m not used to it,” he grumbles.

“What do you-“

But Danny was already finding the safety and flicking it off before trying again. This time he hits two goons, one in the shoulder and another in the leg.

The batboys glance at each other.

“So,” Hood tries to be casual, “what do your parents do?”

“They’re scientists,” Danny answers, mainly focused on shooting another person dressed in a mask, “but they make their own weapons.”

“Are they by any chance mad scientists? Or borderline rogues?” Duke asks as half a joke.

“Of course not,” Danny answers. Then he pauses to actually think about it. “I don’t think so.”

“Cool. That’s fine.”

**

After that Danny had a few more ‘meet and greet’s with the local vigilantes and saw some lingering shadows around their apartment. They had the weirdest questions about his family.

[ssahotchnerr]

hi!!! could you write aaron x bau! reader, where jack accidentally finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom or somewhere in a drawer before reader gets a chance to tell aaron)))🫶🏻

tells

omg omg i could cry 🫶🏻🥹 cw; pregnant bau!reader, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, a ton of fluff <3 wc; 1k

"Hi sweetheart."

Aaron's eyes rose as you entered his office, before returning to the files laid atop his desktop, a paper in his right hand. His stare had lingered momentarily, so he noticed the bag in your hand. "Heading out?"

"Yup, gotta pick up Jack." You replied, hoping you sounded somewhat normal, given your current circumstances. You felt as if your voice was borderline squeaky, in that attempt to remain normal, while also resisting the urge to bounce on your toes. "You coming with?"

On another note, you were so incredibly thankful to be leaving early; overwhelmed with nausea, back pain, fatigue. Ginger ale had been within arm's reach all day, an achingly long day. Laying in bed had never sounded more appealing.

"No, I wish I could. There's a few consults I need to look over before tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long, though." He got up, inching towards you, "I can, however, spare some time for you."

Your nose scrunched in amusement, leaning up to peck his lips, "You're too good to me."

He chased your lips, murmuring into the kiss with a soft smirk and teasing you right back, "I do try."

After the two of you pulled away (and a whistle echoed outside from a passing Derek Morgan), you toyed with his tie, smoothing it cleanly against his torso. "Don't stay too late, okay?"

"I won't." Aaron kissed you once, twice more before retreating back to his desk. He held onto your hand for as long as possible, causing it to fall gracefully to your side. "I'll be home before dinner, I promise."

Instead of leaving, all you could do was stand there; staring at him, completely giddy. The secret you held, it made you feel a whole new kind of love when you looked at him. The father of your unborn child, the perfect addition to your family. A new love you had created together.

Aaron's gaze lifted, catching you ogling him, a confused smile forming on his face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." You shrugged, forcing your feet towards the door. "I'll see you at home."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, playfully. He absolutely didn't buy it. "Okay, drive safe."

-

"Hi." Jack greeted, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door behind him. He struggled the smallest amount, his backpack weighing him down.

"Hey Jackers," You twisted behind, offering a warm smile, "have a good day?"

"Yeah." He verified, and left it at that. He simply settled in, buckling up.

While you had thought you were the one being strange, he was definitely more so. As you took the route home, he remained quiet in the back, rather than being his usual talkative, wanting-to-tell-you-everything-about-his-day self. You peered at him in the rearview, observing him.

He didn't look pale, so hopefully he wasn't coming down with something. He didn't seem upset - his eyebrows always pinched together in worry when he was. Even this morning during breakfast for instance, he seemed far away, off in his own world. If you didn't know any better, he looked on edge, but in a jittery, seemingly excited way. Antsy, and oddly familiar.

"You okay?"

Jack nodded, keeping his eyes out the window. His absorbed expression indicated the gears continuing to turn in his mind.

"Did something happen today? You're awfully quiet."

"I have a question."

You stopped the car, arriving home, turning around in your seat again to fully look at him. "You know you can ask me anything. Whatever's on your mind, nothing's off limit."

His eyes lit up, hopeful yet quizzical. He quietly and timidly asked, "Am I getting a baby brother or sister?"

You blinked at him, surprised, as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. But you couldn't stop the small smile tugging its way onto your face. Not only because you were happy, of course, but you also didn't want him thinking he had done something wrong. "What makes you ask that?"

"I wasn't snooping, I promise. I went into your bathroom to look for some floss - Dad said I could, said it was in the top left drawer - and I saw it, it said pregnant. But I didn't mean to see, I swear."

Your expression softened sweetly, a gentle laugh escaping you too, "It's okay buddy, that's completely on me. I didn't do a very good job of concealing it at all."

An adorable, boyish smile pulled at his lips, the words leaving him shyly. He could infer the answer, but he needed the actual confirmation. "So... am I?"

After a moment's silence, letting the suspense linger, you confirmed, your heart bursting as you did. "You are."

"Yes!" He nearly shouted, immediately unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his arms around you, as much as he could with the obstacle of the driver's seat. His arms mainly reached around your neck.

You laughed gleefully, your hands raising to his arms, squeezing them gently - a makeshift hug for the meantime. Tears dared to spill down your cheeks, overwhelmed with emotion.

He released the embrace, sobering for a moment and the realization beginning to fully set in. "I'm really getting a sister?"

"It could be a boy too." You arched a brow, grinning.

"Yeah," he matched your smile, buzzing with happiness. "And I'd love that too. But, I think it's gonna be a girl."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see." You shrugged coyly, "It's still quite early, so we won't be able to find out for a couple weeks."

"Weeks?" He whined painfully, but it faded as fast as it had appeared. "I'm so excited. I can't wait."

"You wanna know something else?" He nodded profusely. "You're the only one who knows."

Jack's eyes brightened more if it were possible, in both exhilaration and shock. "Seriously?!"

For the meantime, it was a special secret, shared just between the two of you. You could've sobbed right there, between his genuine sweetness and excitement. And the hormones.

Regardless, he was going to be the best big brother.

"Dad doesn't know?"

"Not yet. I was brainstorming how to tell him, how to tell you, but you were just too quick for me." You flashed him a teasing grin. "That means you have to help me come up with a fun way to tell him, and quick, because I think he's onto me. Deal?"

Jack held out his pinky, interlocking it with yours. "Deal."

[tetsvya]

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

[personapeters]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

— a rafe cameron one shot (1 of 2) part one • part two

✰ you’re at a party with your ‘best friend’, rafe, when things suddenly turn sour, and he’s not afraid to fight for whats his.

rating: sfw — cw: alcohol, physical assault, blood

if y/n was somehow convinced that the rafe cameron could have simply walked away from a situation as such — she was terribly mistaken. the mild taste of alcohol burning in the back of his throat became overwhelmingly bitter as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, his knuckles aching in sheer anticipation.

his mind raced for a moment as he stood, rage gradually bubbling in his stomach as a burning sensation overtook his skin. they weren’t ‘official’ by any means — he wasn’t even sure if she saw him the way he did her — but in his mind, that truly meant changed nothing; whether she was simply his closest friend or his girlfriend, she was still someone of his — his.

he downed the rest of the weak mixer in his red solo cup before throwing it down onto the already trash cluttered floor. his narrow eyes scanned the crowed of moving bodies surrounding him before they landed on a familiar head of dirty blonde.

“aye — aye, top!” he called out, weaving his way through the living room with minimal care for the people he was shoving before fully approaching his friend. “yo, rafe, you good?” topper questioned with immediate concern, noticing the all-too-familiar look on the older mans face as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

“where’s your man?” rafe asked through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his composure — he knew exactly who y/n refered to, he just needed to find him. “wha- who?” topper replied with a genuine confusion, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “that short fuck you invited, topper,” rafe seethed with mild annoyance, his patience wearing extremely thin as he watched his friend take another swig of his beer, “the blonde — where is he?”

“mmm,” topper hummed in recognition as he pulled his lips from the bottle and took a swallow, “mikey? uh, out back with kelce, last i seen ‘em.” needing nothing more, rafe swiftly stormed off with a clenched jaw, exiting out of the back porch door with a slam while ignoring topper’s questioning calls from behind.

the sandy backyard was almost as populated as the inside, the once pounding music now a muted bass as he furthered himself from house, his head on a swivel as he searched the sea of people. once again, he roughly pushed his way through party-goers, his height playing to his advantage as he peered above their heads, scanning the area. it took all of a minute before he spotted kelce and a few others gathered around a fire, laughing amongst themselves.

he felt a twisting heat build in his core as he neared them, his fists balled tightly as he held them stiff by his sides, knuckles white from the intense pressure. kelce noticed rafe approaching out of the corner of his eye, a bright smile on his face as he prepared to greet his friend that was quickly wiped away when he noticed his hostile demeanor.

“aye, what’s-,” kelce started, but was cut off abruptly as rafe brushed past and violently shoved the lanky blonde beside him to the ground. “yo, what the fuck, rafe?!” kelce yelled, stepping in between the two men hastily, eyes widened as he glanced between them both — once again, rafe simply brushed past him.

“y’think you can just try ‘n force girls to fuck you? keep fuckin’ with her ‘till she puts out?” rafe seethed at a moderate volume, towering over a heaving michael who was attempting to regain the breath that was knocked out of him. rafe used the plural term ‘girls’ loosely as he only really cared for the one girl in particular — he wasn’t afraid to admit that, either.

“what are you talking about, dude?” the man in the sand exclaimed, though rafe knew he was feigning ignorance. “what the hell is going on?!” kelce added, though through everything he was hearing, he began putting the jagged pieces together.

“can’t get pussy without beggin’ for it, right? ah, that’s it,” rafe taunted with a malicious half-grin, one that could send a static chill down one’s spine and make them question what it’s owner was capable of. some would say rafe cameron always had a hint of crazy in his eyes, but now it was prominent and on full display. “c’mon, rafe, just chill,” kelce reasoned, or attempted to, pushing his friend back by his biceps as michael clamored to his feet.

“yo, get the fuck off me!” rafe barked, swiping both of kelce’s arms away with a single motion, his eyes still locked onto his target. “y’like puttin’ your hands on girls, yeah?!” rafe hissed, marching across the sand and pressing his broad chest to michael’s lesser one, his breaths hot and rapid as they fanned across his opponent’s face. a crowd had formed as the altercation became louder and more evident, encouraging chants emitting from the herd of college students surrounding who drunkenly anticipated the unconventional entertainment.

admittedly, rafe liked — no, loved that everyone was watching him make an example out of the unfortunate soul who crossed him. anyone who had an ounce of sense knew never to mess with rafe cameron or his people, especially not his girl — his name was written all over her. yet, seemingly, not everyone got that very important message; though, he knew it would soon be made exceedingly loud and abundantly clear, as it should be.

“dude, i-i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking ab-,” the blonde began to babble but rafe wasn’t in any mood to listen, abruptly interrupting him in his fit of rage by swinging back a heavy fist and letting it crack against mikey’s jaw. the shorter man stumbled backwards, the sand beneath his feet making it harder to regain his balance as he plummeted to the ground. he gripped his chin as a thin stream of warm blood began to pour from his mouth before yelling, “what the fuck, dude?!”

“what—you don’t like that?” rafe mocked with a sickeningly sweet tone, watching with an ice-melting gaze as the man clamored to his feet. “tell me to stop,” rafe snarled, lunging forward and taking another loaded swing, connecting it straight into michael’s ribs, “nah, you like it, don’t you?” he doubled over in pain, letting out a strained groan as he placed a hand over his sore abdomen.

“yo, that’s enough, rafe,” kelce intervened again, stepping in between the two men in an attempt to distinguish the fight. rafe ignored his friend’s plea, roughly brushing shoulders passed him as he advanced once again. “c’mon, tough guy, don’t be a bitch,” he taunted again, “put your hands on somebody who wants ‘em.”

suddenly, a voice from within the large huddle of bystanders was heard, topper emerging from the mass with urgency. “hey, hey! what the fuck is going on?!” he asked frantically, his eyes flickering between rafe and the battered man before him. “why don’t you ask your buddy over there, huh?” rafe hissed, enough anger boiling in his blood to heat the very surface of his skin, his adrenaline at an all-time high.

“i ain’t do nothing, alright?!” michael defended breathlessly, and rafe felt as though his body could have burst from rage. “nothing, huh?” rafe muttered, surprisingly calm as an overwhelming, animalistic urge to tear the man apart limb from limb began to overtake him even further.

“beggin’ to crack girls who don’t want to fuck you is nothing, huh?” rafe projected as though it was an announcement, loud enough for everyone surrounding to hear, “getting your dick in a twist when they turn you down, leavin’ marks on ‘em — that’s nothing? you’re a fuckin’ pussy.”

“alright, you watch your mouth,” michael spat through gritted teeth, striding forward with a pointed finger, stopping it a mere inch away from rafe’s stoic face; rafe found it almost comical. “or what?” rafe rebutted, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his rose tinted lips. the volume of the crowd raised once more as the momentum picked up, the watchers on the edge of their metaphorical seats as they awaited a fight they knew rafe would deliver.

“you guys needa just-just chill out — calm down,” topper coaxed, attempting to play peacemaker, though his efforts were deemed futile when michael suddenly pulled his fist back and pounded it against rafe’s bottom lip, catching him off guard. the pink, supple flesh split instantly, blood trickling over his chin and trailing down his neck, the fabric of his shirt soaking it up and painting itself crimson.

rafe darted forward, virtually unfazed by the newfound gash on his face, grabbing michael by his collar with one hand and striking him in the jaw with the other. the crowd gasped while others cheered, their phones tight in their grasps as they recorded the brawl — this is what they were waiting for. rafe felt multiple pairs of hands on his back, tugging at his shirt as they attempted to pull him off, but rafe could only stop when he wanted to.

he planted another jab into michael’s side, which was quickly reciprocated when a set of knuckles collided with rafe’s torso, causing him to stumble. although michael was noticeably smaller, his brute was still nothing to be undermined, especially when being used against a girl like y/n. considering that only pushed rafe further off the edge — the idea of anyone trying her made him irrevocably livid.

“you’re a coward,” rafe yelled as he swung once again, this time knocking michael off his feet and onto his back with a sand-cushioned thud, “a fucking coward!” he kicked the fallen man in his side with the entirety of his strength, causing him to roll over in agony as he hugged himself. “ain’t even man enough,” he gritted out while kicking him again, “to own up to it,” and again, “wanna touch my girl,” and again, “fuckin’ joke.”

in the near distance, a loud siren was heard followed by the hue of red and blue lights washing over the front of the house, causing the gaggle of bystanders to all flee in various directions. “that’s enough,” topper insisted with a hand yanking rafe back by his shoulder, frankly only concerned for him after digesting the entirety of the situation, “the cops are here — we gotta go.”

rafe ignored his warning, stalking towards the blonde on the ground with an unwavering desire to make his face utterly unrecognizable. moments like these made him wish he could guarantee getting away with murder, completely removing the problem from his island. he crouch down slowly, grabbing michael by his dirtied polo before roughly pulling him upwards, their faces inches apart as he left him with a final message warning:

“don’t come back here again. if you ever — ever even so much as fucking speak to her again, i promise… i will fucking kill you.”

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[redcali]

can you write how each of the lads men would react when you tell them you want children? (or it could be any of them) (your fics are nice btw)

Reply: Yes that is so cute!! ────────────────────

✦ You tell the LADS men that you want children ✦

PAIRINGS: Xavier x reader, Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader TAGS: slight suggestive content, mostly wholesome cute fluff, short blurbs

────────────────────

“Xavier, I want to have kids.” You announce.

You two are currently in Jeremiah’s greenhouse, helping him tend to his flowers. Xavier’s hands still on a potted plant as he looks to you, his eyes wide.

 “Right here?”

“W-what?” Your face turns red. “No! Of course not! I meant, when we get back h–”

But Xavier is already pushing you up against the cool glass of the greenhouse, his chest against your back and fingers dipping below your waistband.

“Too late,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive neck. “ You’re absolutely right – I want children too. Right now.”

You two are at Sylus’s favourite restaurant when you casually bring up that you want children.

Sylus’s hand stills, as he looks up at you from his steak with an indiscernible expression. You peer at him nervously, trying to gauge his reaction. Does he want children too? Is he okay with the idea of raising them?

“Anyways – that was just a thought – let’s talk about something else.” you quickly say.

The next day ── .✦

“Sylus!” You call out as you push open the door to Sylus’s apartment. You kick something by accident – a gold pacifier? You look down at it, beyond perplexed.

As you step into his apartment, you’re met with the sight of piles upon piles of various baby clothes and toys, stacked neatly across the living room and dining hall. You’re speechless. 

Sylus walks out into the living room in nothing but his red silk pajamas. He mimics your aloof expression when he sees you.

“What? You said you wanted children.”

“Sylus – it was just an idea!”

You notice something : ever since you’ve casually mentioned wanting children (you don’t think Caleb would even notice), Caleb has been seeming really fatigued, sometimes even dozing off in the middle of the day just to wake up with a start.

You don’t question why and just go about your day as usual.

Until one night, you wake up from a bad dream. You sit up groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes tiredly, just to find Caleb missing from bed.

Instead, a dim glow radiates from the study desk. Caleb sits at it, carefully jotting down notes on a notepad that you’ve never seen before. You sneak over, and tackle him by surprise. Caleb lets out a yelp of surprise as you jump onto his lap.

“Pips! What are you doing, being awake right now?” he asks hoarsely. You huff. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” You turn to look at his notes – and that's when you realise that they’re all about pregnancy and taking care of newborns. You giggle as you flick through his notes, and Caleb just looks at you with resignation.

“This is what you’ve been losing sleep over? You’re adorable.” you tell him, twisting over in his lap to squeeze him affectionately by his cheek. “10 health recipes for pregnancy? How to take care of newborns… side effects of pregnancy and how to manage them…damn, you’re thorough.”

“I need to come prepared, okay?” Caleb nips at your fingers. “I’ll make sure to take care of you when you’re bearing our child. I’ll make sure you have everything and anything you need. All for my wife.”

When you tell him that you want children, Zayne pauses for a second, looking at you carefully.

“Are you sure?” He looks at you with a gentle expression, reaching a hand out to hold yours. “I need you to be completely certain. This is a huge decision, after all.”

“Positive,” you reply eagerly. “Zayne, I’ve been thinking this over for months.”

“Okay. Give me a second.” Zayne pulls out his phone and clicks onto a contact, holding it to his ear.

“Greyson?” He pauses. “I’ll be taking a one week leave.”

Your jaw drops. Zayne? Taking a whole week off his job? That is unheard of. Zayne continues to dish out a couple of instructions to his assistant over call before he quickly hangs up. With his full attention back to you now, he leans forward and kisses you softly on the cheek.

“Zayne,” you say slowly. “What…why…”

“You want children, right?” A playful smile tugs at his lips. “We’ll have to work on that all week. That way, it can be guaranteed that you get what you want.”

Your face heats up at the implications of his words. Zayne leans forward once more, this time pressing his warm lips to yours.

“Let’s start now.”

“...so that’s why I want children.”

Rafayel gets flashbacks to those birth-giving videos he has the misfortune to chance upon.

“But, darling,” Rafayel says, sounding pained. “Giving birth looks excruciating. What a miserable process. I don’t want you to see you in pain, ever.”

You laugh at his words, squeezing his cheek. “Rafayel, it’s going to be OK.”

“Are you sure?” he frets. “I wish there was a way you don’t have to go through the suffering, ever. I wish I could be the one giving birth.”

When he kisses you, he is extra gentle in the way he holds and touches you. His hands snake down to your thighs as he pulls back to look at you with wide, adoring eyes.

──────────────────── .✦