#its 4am and i should sleep but brain says. think about Them. and so i make art

[thiefbird]

Have a grouchily affectionate Maturin

[bizlybebo]

Because its on my mind Im sending this as a "Ramble about it here when you get to X episode" ask. When you finish the episodes titled black, white and grey please rant about them here. They are great and I want to see your opinions

hahaha. hi endy.

the staring at the wall evolved into falling asleep and randomly waking up at 4am, still processing these episodes.

i wrote down. some of my thoughts now having experienced the full thing and got kind of carried away with um. 1.4k words of rambling :3

it’s not even all i want to say but i. ough. fuck these episodes were so good but so. auugggh.

it’s like 5am now im posting this and gonna try to go back to sleep but. holy fucking SHIT when i get you bizly.

(i don’t at all expect you to read this behemoth of a ramble!! just. need to put this somewhere as well because my brain’s still exploding after these episodes)

When season two started I thought it marked a lot of stuff for, y’know, how the show was gonna get darker. I mean, episode one, people were getting killed by a chaos demon in that prison.

I was entirely expecting all the ugly, gory bits of season two to be… external shit. Stuff that other guys, the actual antagonists, did.

But William felt pressured in Black. And suddenly it sets off this chain reaction, and suddenly one of our protagonists is no longer doing heroic things. Suddenly William is effectively torturing a guy psychologically in an attempt to save thousands more with David’s medical research.

He fell into the crux of a lot of villains: “It’s for the greater good”.

There was no going back after he stabbed Tide with the syringe. Tide, who never even had his guard up around William because despite everything, he trusted him and had immeasurable faith in his boys.

White is probably my favorite and least favorite episode, simultaneously, to ever come out of jrwi. The emotional, symbolic, and hell, even cinematic effect it has is insane.

I could fucking scream forever about Willian’s actions in White. About Vyncent’s inactions and the way he was torn about everything— about the fact that in season one, Vyncent was the “violent” one.

But Mark and Dakota fucking hit me in the heart to an insane amount.

Dakota. MOTHERFUCKING. Cole.

I said this before, but:

It’s the fact that Dakota still has optimism. He still has hope, at the very least, that Mark can change; turn over a new leaf for his kid.

“I think he should turn over a new leaf, like, with a new hero name, like— Soundwave, or something.”

He still thinks, or at least thought, that Mark can change. This was after he saw what he did to Lightspeed. He saw the worst of Mark’s actions but he still had faith and hope that there was a good person in there.

This shows so much fucking growth for Dakota’s character. The entire development of his morals, especially over season 2, is insane.

But Mark tries to kill Dakota. Several times.

He shoots at him, unleashes hundreds of bullets, and even tries to stab him. He couldn’t predict that Dakota would be incorporeal, and yeah, sure, you could say that he didn’t know Dakota forfeited his powers (and even without him he’s still significantly stronger than other kids his age). But even with his powers, Dakota would still have taken significant damage from the attacks.

Dakota and Mark’s rivalry is something I could pick apart and think about every little piece of forever.

They both have overwhelming love for Ashe, but it manifests in different ways.

Mark says it himself, “I am what I have to be.” He’s bringing home his kid by any means necessary. Ashe doesn’t have to like him, she just has to be safe and alive.

Dakota’s entire screaming match with Mark is engraved into my brain forever. It felt so real to witness, and the emotion in it was insane.

Dakota’s entire proclamation gets me. He’s so well spoken throughout despite shaking with how angry he is.

“I have been killing myself trying to train hard enough to save her.”

“If you were doing this for Ashe you wouldn’t do things that she’d hate you for.” But Mark is what he has to be.

Dakota never stands down. He keeps getting back up, and back up, and back. Up. Okehrjwjr I’m actually going to start crying thinking about this again.

When he was searching for Lightspeed and following Wavelength’s tracks, he kept asking himself: What would William do? Because he had faith in William’s decision making and investigation.

But at the very same time, William was wondering what Dakota would think about what he’s done.

And GOD don’t get me started on William and his brother.

In a sick, twisted way, I loved their dynamic. I loved what it meant for William narratively when David congratulated his work of defeating Xavier, even calling him “little brother” as a term of endearment. I was on the edge of my seat for their entire conversation in the meeting room.

David gave William his first drink, like older brothers do. William tortured a man because of his brother. David had apple juice sitting on hand because their mother told him to, just in case William ever showed up. William wanted apple juice. He killed somebody.

Cantrip’s been FUCKING me up. I couldn’t even write the word “death” after her name. It doesn’t feel real.

This can’t be the same show in which Jade was sitting on Xavier’s shoulders during mario kart, nonchalantly offering no help as he fought for his life to win like. Second place.

I mean, Jade was such a candid and real character. She was a teenager, just like the rest of the Prime Defenders, and she tried to take a turn for better things after leaving the fighting ring. She went from villainy to vigilantism, and sure, her morals were kind of skewed with how she seemed pretty okay with Alan killing the Bell Tech employees, but her motives were good, in a sense.

(“It’s all for the greater good”. It’s the same thing William was thinking, except William was directly dirtying his hands by torturing Xavier, while Cantrip was just accepting that Alan killed some people.)

I think there’s something to say for how William creates a vision of Cantrip out of smoke, distorting her into some monster, and how that’s the last time we see her image at all before learning of the fact that she’s. Gone.

The last time we see the real Jade, she’s just trying to escape. She doesn’t even talk, if I remember correctly. She just tries to get out. She gets shot in the arm but still persists.

And William ends up being the one who pulls the trigger; who injects the memory loss shit into her blood.

He’s the one who kills her, despite not knowing it at the time.

And David still masquerades as an innocent man, going as far as to relax at his apartment with him and William’s parents as though the events of the previous night never happened.

It fucks me up how the last words that Will and David exchanged before the confrontation in the apartment was:

“Don’t turn into a supervillain while I’m gone.”

“You either.”

William was starting to believe that David was a guy with awful methods, but good intentions— and William felt as though he was the same way. He saw himself becoming David, but David manipulated him into thinking that, hey, it’s awful, but at least he wouldn’t be… alone, I guess, in being a horrible person.

William and David finally saw eye to eye on the worst thing.

And David. Still. Lied.

Lied by omission.

And Jade was the one who took the fall for William’s actions. Jade, the girl who made fun of William for his crush on Vyncent. Jade, who had a sister she cared about, even if she scoffed about her love of heroes— despite the implication that their parents died because of them (likely caught in crossfire or casualties of battle). Jade, who painted her nails and placed bets on William kissing Vyncent, saying he’d be too pussy to do so. Jade, who found herself in a fucking fighting arena of all places but still found friends through it.

Jade, who was the first one to trust William with her actual name instead of Cantrip.

William, who killed her.

And. Fucking Christ.

Vyncent’s monologue at the end of episode 33 just. Fucks me up.

For the entire greyscale series, he finds himself suspended in inaction, too scared to do the right thing and too scared to stop the wrong thing.

But he finally faces it. He looks at William, certainly with fear after knowing all that he’s done, and even still, Vyncent dances around the morality of the subject. He accepts if William wants to flat-out lie to Dakota’s face about what happened at Bell Tech, though he does warn him of the significant damage it’ll do to their friendship.

And when William asks Vyncent to leave the room at the end of the episode, Vyncent finally takes a leap and becomes no longer caught by his indecision between apathy and guilt.

He looks at William, thinking he’s on the edge of something he won’t come back from, and he takes his hand, and pulls Wlliam back from the metaphorical cliff’s edge. If William does fall, then they’re falling together.

His entire proclamation, starting with “I’ve had so many opportunities to do the right thing”, fucking guts me.

God I’ve been typing for like. An hour now but the greyscale series really fucked me up holy shit.

tldr: AAAAUUUUIGGHHHHKEKGKKSKVMEMGOOCU:$)&2’ynkejvjk4&3&582$2!:$?82&;&/&(929@,@2&(&2&&?EVIL EVIL EVIL GOD IS DEADDDDJGKRMHKSKKKKLLEKCKSJGJKSICIWKFMSKGIWIIIAI&383&5&?&?@39(92@?&&/8:7;&,£,]*+\+<*]¥<**]+<+¥sfkwkfkkwjfkI HATE EVERYTHING AOUUGGGHHHHHH OUUUUUUEHEHRHRHRJKGHRHRHRRRRRRR

i am emotionally attached to this media a normal amount

[mppmaraudergirl]

So I couldn’t sleep last night (you know, being a mum, brain wouldn’t turn off) - so I thought to myself “why not start Chasing Life?

Both the best and worst idea I’ve had in a long time.

Up until 4am reading all 4 chapters. ITS EVERYTHING. I have the feeling we’re supposed to be on the fence about James…but I love him! I could have cried at the end of the last chapter, I just wanted to hug the poor guy! And even though it’s completely irrational, I hate Caradoc. Hasn’t done anything to me, but get outta here buddy, you’re ruining all our progress!

I was on team update TRN before (still would love to hear from TRN!James - miss that boy) but now I need more CL. Preferably 10 more chapters immediately but I know that’s incredibly selfish so I’ll settle for one 😂

Thank you for continuing to give us incredible fics because we are not worthy. Im sitting here with my coffee still thinking about CL like a lovesick teenager - but no, I’m a mum in my 30s watching my toddler play. How do you do it?

❤️ best to you!!

The way this has made my morning as I sit at my desk pumping milk 🙃 I know sleep for moms comes as a premium so I am beyond flattered. Here's a little look at how CL James is doing in part v!

He finally gets a moment alone with her at the bar. Throwing a quick, discreet look behind his shoulder, he slips onto the stool next to her.

"Enjoying your birthday, Evans?"

The color in her cheeks is telling enough, and yet she meets his eye, smiles and says, "Yeah I am."

"I'm glad," he says, just as the bartender slides her and Dearborn's drinks toward her. She slips off the stool with a cheerful thanks, and James can't stop himself from reaching for her elbow, "Wait a sec."—she pauses, eyes bright as she catches his gaze—"I have a present for you but I thought it might get wrecked here. Should… shall I owl it to you tomorrow?"

"You didn't need to do that, James," Lily says, though she sounds pleased. "But thank you. I'm spending the weekend with Doc so perhaps Monday? If that's okay?"

James does his best to keep the smile on his face and ignore the stupid reaction he has to the idea of them holed up together for the weekend—they're a couple, of course they're going to fuck her birthday weekend away, and he should be used to it after the last few months. "Sure, yeah. ' course"

She gives him a smile he wishes he could keep before she walks back to her spot next to Dearborn.

[leejeongz]

jealous treasure (asahi-junghwan)

🔅i’m gonna use another member in each one because it’s easier than making up a whole new person and explaining a bit about them for each one if that makes sense. but this is just for fun, it’s fictitious, remember that pls🔅

find the other members here

🌷 asahi:

“it’s wednesday” junkyu announced. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to say whatever was in his brain, but today the other boys decided to humour him a little and asked him to elaborate.

“we should wear pink” he clarified as if everyone should know. asahi rolled his eyes, you’d been pestering asahi to tell junkyu to watch mean girls since well, forever, and that now he’d finally watched it, he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“but you’re not wearing any pink” asahi pointed out after scanning his whole body.

junkyu corrected him by fetching the hoodie he was expecting to wear. it was a soft, baby pink colour, with a little heart on the pocket right in the middle. asahi recognised it straight away.

“where did you get that?” he asked. junkyu couldn’t lie, he’d been caught red handed.

“from your closet” he confessed “but you always wear it and i thought i might look cute in it, can i wear it just for one day?” he begged with pleading eyes.

“hm let me think” asahi put his hand to his chin with sarcasm written all over his face “no” he snatched it from junkyu’s hands. “why would you wear y/n’s hoodie anyway?” he asked

“i-” junkyu stuttered “i didn’t know it was theirs” he said while assessing the situation “but are you really jealous right now? i didn’t know you were the type” he laughed, drawing the attention of the other members.

“no” he scoffed, “i’m not jealous, i just don’t think that they would want you wearing their hoodie. you smell” he spat out, turning his back and heading for his room.

“someone call y/n” junkyu said, wanting you to hear what a jealous man your boyfriend really is.

“don’t you have something better to do, like finding your own pink hoodie, you know, like the one you never take off your own back?” asahi snaps back, referring to the infamous pink hoodie from junkyu’s trademark outfit. as he leaves the living room, asahi takes a hesitant sniff at the jumper, hoping junkyu hasn’t infected it with his scent so much so that it no longer smells of you.

🍄 yedam:

having been stuck inside your house for what felt like a year, you were grateful and willing to accept any invitation to leave. today’s invite came from your boyfriend, yedam, who’d recently been too busy working to come and see you, which was completely understandable. he’d asked if you’d like to join him and a few of his friends on a walk around a nearby park, you of course said yes.

with beautiful scenery came the chance to take beautiful pictures. noticing that your boyfriend was too preoccupied by the ice cream van, you asked one of his friends, jeongwoo, to take a picture of you by the fountain. he agreed and instructed you on how to pose so that it wouldn’t look awkward. you followed his advice and managed to get a few shots. you walked back over to jeongwoo, who innocently stood with your phone in his hand, when you saw your boyfriend come rushing over.

“what are you doing with their phone?” he questioned “they let you take photos of them?” he spat out in a hurt manner.

“yes…” jeongwoo replied before you stepped in.

“how much are they?” you asked, pointing in the ice cream van’s direction, not understanding what all the commotion was about.

“apparently they’re all out of ice cream” he mocked “but why did you let him take photos of you? that’s my job” he pouted with a soft tone to his voice.

“ooo our yedam is all soft for y/n” jeongwoo jeered which, judging by the look yedam gave back to him, was not appropriate. “it was just 3 pictures” jeongwoo clarified “the model isn’t that easy to work with anyway, they have no fresh ideas of their own to spice up my business” he scoffed jokingly while handing your phone back to you, causing yedam to finally crack a smile.

“⅕ stars, pictures came out wonky and the photographer is bossy, unlike my lovely yedam” you smiled, playing into the joke. it wasn’t long before yedam was back to his usual cheerful self and had also finally decided that an iced tea was a good substitute for ice cream too.

🧶doyoung:

there was a lot of things in your house that didn’t make sense, but the worst was definitely the paintings hung up in your room that you’d never gotten around to taking down, mainly because you couldn’t reach them but shhh. you’d always been too shy to ask doyoung, knowing he’d laugh at you and tease you for being too short to reach them, and given you hadn’t been together for that long, you weren’t sure how much you’d appreciate that being your first inside joke.

a friend of yours, jihoon, had come over to your house while doyoung was there, which wasn’t exactly an issue, he knew you and jihoon were friends and he respected that. the three of you often gossiped and gamed together, it was a common thing these days.

“i tell you this every time im here but those are so ugly y/n, please take them down” jihoon glanced up, locking eyes with the spooky man in the painting and shuddering.

“i can’t reach” you joked, forgetting your boyfriend was also there.

“i’ll do it then” jihoon announced, standing up and reaching each painting easily.

“i could have done that” doyoung whispered under his breath while staring at you. you turned to your left to see your boyfriend's unimpressed face. “why did you let him do it?” he questioned, seeming really quite angry.

“he offered, i wasn’t gonna say no” you defended yourself. jihoon took this as his queue to leave and take the artwork elsewhere, he didn’t know where, but anywhere was better than being in that room with you two.

“is it because of his big muscles? is it because you value his opinion more than mine?” doyoung asked, laughing at his own thoughts and how ridiculous they were but possibly true.

“no” you rolled your eyes before making eye contact again “its because he offered” you repeated.

“and if i offered?” he asked, expecting you to say that you would have declined.

“obviously i would have said yes” you replied, “they were horrible i don’t care who got them down i just wanted them gone”

“oh” he sat back and relaxed into the pillow “well i’m glad they’re gone. i didn’t like to say it, but they were creepy” he laughed with you. “the next thing to go is him though” he joked, seeing jihoon walk back into your room, which of course was replied to with a scoff from your sassy friend.

💥haruto:

your sleeping pattern was well and truly out of the window, so you decided to stay up and call one of your friends that you knew would be awake, hyunsuk. he was just like you, you both slept at 4am and woke up at 2pm, so he wasn’t that shocked when you called, wide awake like him.

“where’s haruto? wasn’t he supposed to be staying at your place tonight?” he asked, genuinely concerned about his friend. you flipped the camera to show your bed, where a certain sleepy haruto lay, peacefully entering dreamland. “he’s so cute” hyunsuk giggled, you cooed in agreeance, he really was the cutest.

you stayed on call for about an hour. you were currently laughing about the tiktok he’d just sent to you, your humour was exactly the same too so it’s wasn’t hard for you to crack the other up. all the commotion woke your boyfriend, whose bed head was clearly visible in the reflection of your opened laptop when he sat up.

“did we wake you?” hyunsuk laughed upon hearing a groan from his friend.

“we?” haruto responded in a sleepy voice. “who’s we?”

“uhh us” you pointed between you and the phone.

“y/n? hyunsuk?” he snapped out of his sleepy state quickly. “why are you two up at this time and on the phone together?” you looked at hyunsuk on the screen and smiled, trying to hold in your laughter. “turn that off and come to bed, i want cuddles, and i want you to get some sleep, unlike him” he flung himself back at the bed, only inches away from hitting his head on the headboard.

“wait for me” hyunsuk joked in a teasing tone.

“no, not you” haruto whined. “just y/n please” he smiled closing his eyes and opening his arms, ready for you to join him.

“i guess this is goodnight then” you said to hyunsuk, which haruto followed up with a goodnight for his friend too before you put the phone down.

“now, cuddles please!”

♟jeongwoo:

for jaehyuk’s birthday this year, he asked for a small gathering, just close friends, which you of course are included in since you and jeongwoo had been together for over 2 years now. when you arrived, you quickly gauged the atmosphere of the party was pretty light and fun, it wasn’t oppressive in the slightest. usually parties you attended were fully kitted out with loud music, dimly lit rooms and a bunch of strangers in every room, instead your friends were in the living room, just chatting and laughing.

“you came!” jaehyuk screeched, running over to hug you. “oh and you bought a plus one, jeongwoo” he joked around with your boyfriend, who just rolled his eyes in response.

it wasn’t long before the boys delved into the games cupboard and pulled out the “who’s most likely to” box. the oldest of the boys shuffled the cards and took the top one which read “who’s the funniest”. whenever you played, this one always seemed to come out first, so you changed your answer every time to please everyone.

you turned around your board with the name “jaehyuk” written on it. your eyes scanned the room to see almost everyone had his name written on their boards, probably because it was his party after all. you quickly diverted your eyes away, however, when you saw that jeongwoo had written your name, which should have made you feel happy but instead, you felt quite guilty for not writing his.

the game went on, and your name wasn’t written on jeongwoo’s board ever again, despite you putting his for almost everything positive. the rest of the evening, jeongwoo didn’t come near you at all, everyone noticed, everyone questioned it, it was so obvious that he was jealous, but there was no way he was admitting to it.

as you got ready to leave, you glanced over at the boy who was supposed to be staying with you tonight, sat firmly in his place on the sofa.

“jeongwoo, aren’t you coming?” you shouted from the door. “jaehyuk is staying here so you don’t have to worry about him” you teased, everyone else smiling at you and giggling silently.

“fine” he grunted. you made up on the way home, he couldn’t even remember how it all started, he just “wanted to make a point” which, sure, he did.

🌍junghwan:

you and junghwan never got to spend much time together before you became friends with the members since he was always with them or at school, which is why he’s never complained or showed any jealousy when you are with them.

today you headed over to their dorms to relax and play when you remembered, today was the day of junghwan’s english exam. you pulled out your phone and dropped him a quick good luck text before continuing your journey.

yoshi brought you up to his room where he said you could chill for a bit since everyone else was still sleeping, other than those who had school of course. yoshi began to ask you lots of questions, you learnt a lot about each other in that hour or so, and the conversation was flowing so well that you didn’t hear the door.

“y/n, you did remember?!” junghwan asked excitedly, clapping his hands while smiling from ear to ear. “you came all the way here to see me after i finished?”

“remember what?” you asked, bewildered. “your exam? yeah i sent you a text, i’m sorry i didn’t realise until i was over half way here else i would have gone to see you first” you confessed, feeling guilty. his face dropped at your honest words.

“you mean you came all the way here just to see yoshi?” he asked. “everyone else was in the kitchen, but you two were in here… alone…?” disappointed in your reasoning and forgetfulness, he slowly backed out of the room. he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. he wanted to feel sad and upset, but did you really do anything wrong, he thought. “you couldn’t have just turned around and gone home”

“well i didn’t want to, i wanted to see my friends. i didn’t realise that most of them didn’t get up until the afternoon” you walked closer to him, praying that he didn’t try and get away. “i’m sorry i forgot about your exam”

he shuffled closer to you. you’d never argued before, and he wasn’t sure how to respond, so he hoped a hug would go down well. as he hugged you, he whispered his own apology into you hair “i’m sorry for jumping to conclusions”

[sarah-sandwich]

A love letter to commenters, using only their words as they left them on works of fiction

Dear Commenters,

I don’t even know where to start

First of all, I have to compliment your fortitude

Well done

You mad genius

To write a comment

So full of

Genuine affection

Heartfelt, and REAL

Honey you can’t do this?

Such a beautiful message

Oh dear

I would kudos

A million times if I could

.

Unintelligible caps-lock comment

My beloved

I gotta be honest

APOLOGIZING

For

A

Beautiful

Knee-jerk reaction

NOOOOOOOO

It’ll be a crime against this fandom if you stop

.

You

Wrote this

I’m thankful I got to read this

My heart needed it

On another note tho i—

Fhsjhdhdhdsh

A comment

Relief in the sea of fandom

Don’t take this the wrong way

I’m glad you didn’t

Threw it out

Because it is perfect and I’m keeping it

.

Y’know what, fuck it *affection*

The amount of validation

Is absurd

No thoughts. Head empty. Just

THE WAY I AM YELLING

How it feels like we

Work

Together

I’m at 4am finishing just another one more part

You being the reason

I can’t wait to finish it

Would you be okay if I

Express just how much

I love your brain

We do not and I repeat do not deserve you!

.

I can’t think of a funny quip

In all seriousness

I’ve been struggling

But

I needed something

And you gave it to me

Rent free

We start out raw, stumbling around in the dark and weaving our way across the lines of humor and sincerity

The people we really are

Not the character or story development, but yours. You

Hi thanks its 5:30am here and I am wrapped up in my comforter and my face is wet

.

To write a comment

I don't know if you realize, but

From reading it

I'll be a better person

Sure, the characters drew me to this fic, but it’s you that kept me here

Going back

There's this

Feeling

You managed to give me

And that's not even a fraction of the awe I'm feeling at the way

the commentary

made me blink back a few tears

There is absolutely no fucking way I can find the same amount of euphoria

Finally some good fucking food

.

I’m screaming

Something I don't think is said enough

Thank you for sharing

The most perfect paragraph I’ve ever read

I will cherish it for days

Will read again. Maybe a few times.

.

I believed in every word.

.

Guess what I’m doing instead of

Writing

I’m reading this

Comment

Again. Again. Again.

There were so many moments that had me

!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do I feel guilty about it?

No :)

It’s alright the next chap is already up

I will be in debt from cavities but it’s worth it

I regret nothing!

.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Just say thank you like a normal person

Is that too much to ask

Guh.

I’m so sorry

.

The anxiety

The awkwardness

It’s alright

Your

Words

Make me feel better

AND PROUD

Thank you for sharing

Connecting

Supporting each other

Hits different for some reason

(in a good way)

Does that make sense?

.

Maybe I’m just sleep deprived

It’s 3AM here

.

I promise you’re doing okay bud

You’re really funny and sweet

You did such a wonderful job

You wrote it all very well

It makes my day

I love how you captured the

Subtle background details

And the acknowledgment that

It takes a lot of work!

And damn if you didn't hit that nail right on the head

.

Idk how long this comment will get

I should be sleeping

I’ll probably regret it in the morning

But

It’s like

So so happy to see this

In my inbox :)

It’s like coming home

You’re making me have FEELINGS

My heart is happy and full

.

I’m literally

SCREAMING

Quietly-but-not-quietly-at-all into a pillow

This lovely

Thing

You wrote

Got me through

More confident

With lots of joy and laughter

I hope you’re still writing

.

Every

Word

You write

My favorite thing to read

Please dear god lmk

If you happen to

Been feeling out of sorts

Buddy…sleep

You are not alone

Sending all my love

As always

Let someone take care of your ass for once

.

Everybody’s

Really going through it

Being the yardstick for each other

Have to compete

But I just can’t

This should be

Fun

Aiming

To be happpyyyy!

.

Next chapter

Could have been quicker

I wish I could give so many more

Life totally got away from me this year

Don’t read the last few chapters at 1 am

But on the other hand

What can you do?

.

My feelings are all over the place

.

Such a beautiful message

I think will stick with me always

From someone who hasn’t written in a while, this inspires me immensely to continue

Kudos upon kudos to you

.

Ah, I could go on forever

I don’t know how many ways I can say

Thank you so much

You wonderful human

Without sounding obnoxious so I’ll leave it as

It’s 2am and I’m left with

Massive

WIBBLES

I can’t even put this one into words

Please knock me out with a brick

Ouchie…and lovely

It’s hard to form coherent sentences

But somehow you made me fall even more in love with

Writing

.

I forgot to say it before but

Listen

It was exactly what I needed

You are so fucking amazing

20/10

Did I mention my brain went aaaaaahhhhhhh!

Thank you for the serotonin

Once I run out

Will probably read it again

No seriously

I’ll have to return to it in the future to reread it

.

It’s now 3am

Thank you for

Reading this

I loved every moment and I’m sad it had to end. But it was perfect.

I can’t stop smiling.

.

Hope you’re safe and well, read you~

Love,

Writers

[stuffkin]

futaba spends a day on the town with ryuji. everything goes terribly wrong. 

i think this is my final thing for @mcschnuggles’ potluck (AND it’s puzzleverse!) bc it’s 4am where i am and i’m starting to crash but who knows! maybe i’ll do something after sleep lolol

ao3 link!

Why did she think she could do this? She should have listened to her brain, not her heart and its stupid want for something more. But she’d thought she’d leveled up enough for this, and she isn’t alone, and, and, and–

Ryuji won’t look at her.

He won’t let go of her hand, but he won’t look at her. What does it mean, that he won’t look at her? 

Futaba wants to go home. But she’d promised Sojiro and Akira she’d be okay. Promised Ann. Promised Ryuji.

She isn’t sure the promise to Ryuji matters anymore.

It was supposed to be a small group outing. Her, Ryuji, Ann. Two of a pair, they were, determined to add one more pea to their pod. And the worst part is, Futaba wanted–wants–that. But Ann got whisked away at the very last second by her nefarious agency for an emergency fill-in. A plot twist Futaba hadn’t expected, but should have, because of course an outing to Akihabara wouldn’t go like she wants. Like she needs. Never does. 

Ann apologized to both of them, said they could reschedule. Ryuji waved her off, professing they’d be fine without her if Futaba wanted to forge ahead. A classic mistake on Futaba’s part–split-ups always lead to trouble. She’d agreed anyway. 

She pretended not to see the panic that had flashed across Ryuji’s face as Ann left. 

He hasn’t looked at her since. 

Now, they’re wandering the aisles of the most cramped game store Futaba’s ever been in, and believe it or not, she’s been in quite a few.

Small places are not her friend. Not with the way the walls seem to close in on her and the noise bounces around her and the people–oh, God, the people. The games are merely a mimic to lure her into the enemy trap. Still, they’ve been in the shop for twenty minutes already, which Futaba is pretty darn good, especially since people keep cramming into the miniscule space. And for once, she can’t blame them; the games on display are fantastic. It even makes her forget about her worries for a hot second. 

“Hey, what do you think about this one?” Futaba picks up a case and flips it over. “It has werewolves.” 

“Sure,” Ryuji says, even though the answer makes no sense with the question. He flinches when someone brushes by him. It strikes Futaba as wrong, somehow. “Let’s get it.”

He didn’t even look at the game. “Um. Okay.” Any excitement Futaba had gained fizzles away quickly, once more replaced with the suffocating fear that Ryuji doesn’t like her. Suddenly the bright colors and even brighter lights don’t seem so fun anymore. When Ryuji leads her to the cashier, she barely notices that Ryuji’s the one to pay for the game. She barely notices when they leave the shop. She almost misses Ryuji’s question. 

“Is there anywhere else you want to go?” Usually, there’s a bounce to Ryuji’s voice when he asks questions. Now, it falls flat. Tired. Bored. Oddly tight, like a spring ready to pop. She knew it; he doesn’t want to be around her anymore. Who can blame him? She can barely stand herself. 

“U-um…” Futaba tries to mask her anxiety. But everything she’d scripted for the day fries in her brain. Corrupted data, cannot be saved. Her throat aches from how hard she’s trying not to cry. “N-no.” 

“Okay.” Ryuji’s shoulders sag, just a bit, and how is Futaba supposed to interpret that as anything other than relief? “Let’s head back to Leblanc then.” 

Neither of them say anything else all the way to the train station. It’s all Futaba can do to keep her breathing under control. There’s no way she’s going to waste her breath on words! But even as terribly as she’s feeling, she does have to admit she feels a little better now that they’re at the end of their adventure with home waiting just on the other side. The knot in her chest loosens just the tiniest bit. 

If only Ryuji would look at her. Or say something, even if it’s something incredibly stupid like, Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if ducks could shoot lasers out their eyes? or I had a dream about a giant pink squid the other night. He doesn’t even notice that she keeps peeking at him. His eyes are locked on the opposite wall. It’s a far away enough look that she could probably pull free of his ridiculously sweaty hand to do a jig and he wouldn’t even notice. Before she can seriously consider testing this theory, the train arrives. Futaba jumps; Ryuji barely blinks as it whooshes by. 

Boarding is a nightmare. People are packed wall to wall like molecules in a block of ice. If only it were that cold. It leaves them little room to squeeze on and just enough space to be squished against one of the walls. Oh, she wishes they would have waited for the next one, or the one after that, but she certainly isn’t going to be the one to break their mutual silence. It’s a game now. A special form of denial to soothe the sting. 

Ryuji’s fingers twitching in her grasp has her glancing upward in spite of herself. At first, her only thought is That’s not Ryuji. But of course it is, because there’s no one else besides them with an obnoxiously bright dye-job. The whole set of his face, though, is all wrong. A jumbled up slide puzzle. Like before, his eyes are fixed on nothing, but the corners pinch into little creases, and there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck to grip his jaw. Futaba wonders how he hasn’t cracked a tooth from how tightly it’s clenched. The worst part is what she can hear. She shouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of the clattering  train and chattering people, not to mention her headphones, but she hears a rattly breath that comes out too short. 

Oh. Oh. Futaba’s watched herself in mirrors enough times to know what’s happening. Morbid curiosity. She’s also spied on Ryuji–all of the thieves–enough times to know a tell when she sees one, even if she’s not sure what it’s telling. A different kind of curiosity. 

Ryuji’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack. That explains so much. 

Suddenly, she’s feeling so much better about the day. Well. Not about Ryuji, but the fact that it isn’t her fault. She thinks. She can figure that out later. 

“Hey, look at me.” Her voice is a little strained, but it gets the job done. Nervous eyes glance at her before flicking away again. Without letting go of his hand, she wriggles her way into his line of sight. “I said look at me.” 

Ryuji freezes, biting his lip again, but he looks at her. Oh, yeah. Her guess is right on the money; while she has the attention of the meatsuit his brain drives around, there’s not much going on behind those big brown eyes. Knock knock. Nobody’s home. 

“Okay, good,” she says, even though it isn’t. “You’re okay, we’re okay. You don’t like trains?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “Me neither! They’re like a super hard dungeon teeming with enemies! But it’s okay because we’re together.” 

A quick squeeze to her fingers tells her that she hasn’t lost him yet. Good. Because if Futaba’s being honest with herself, she’s barely holding on to her own thread. Almost out of life points. If Ryuji weren’t feeling so bad, too, she’s pretty damn certain that she’d be the one having a panic attack. 

She continues monologuing all the way to Yongen-Jaya. Anything to keep them both distracted and tethered to his hellish plane–train–of existence. As they finally, finally, step out of the station into thankfully empty streets, Futaba spread out one arm and takes a deep breath. “Freedom.” Ryuji doesn’t say anything, but she hadn’t expected him to. He still looks like he’s about to come apart at the seams. Futaba takes control of player one and tugs him along to Leblanc. 

They barely get through the door before Sojiro’s onto them. He barely gets a glance in before he’s setting down his crossword. “What happened?” 

If Futaba hadn’t been so worn down, she would have laughed at how quickly Akira spins his head. It’s like he’s possessed. He must have popped it, because he grimaces and presses his hand against it. He’s quicker on the uptake than Sojiro. “I got them.” Stepping around the counter, he ushers them both towards the stairwell. 

Ryuji makes a beeline for Akira’s bed as soon as they’re up the stairs, tucking himself into the corner with no hesitation, as though he’s done this a million times. Perhaps he has. Futaba knows she’d go to Akira if she felt poorly. In fact, she has. Several times now. What piques her interest, though, is the way Morgana slinks into Ryuji’s lap without a word. The way Ryuji’s hands automatically start smoothing down the fur. The duo are so normally at each other’s throats that the flipped switch is downright bizarre. Unscripted. A glitch. 

Akira barely glances at them before turning to Futaba. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

She keeps her answer simple. “Too many people. Too high-level for me. Us, I guess.” She peeks around Akira at Ryuji, who keeps his head ducked and face hidden. Morgana’s murmuring to him, but she’s still too far away to make it out. “I didn’t think crowds got to him.” 

“They don't.” Akira grimaces. As much as his blank slate of a face can grimace, anyway. Futaba would love to program a model of him just to see how many wacky faces she could give him. Her attention surfaces as he speaks again. “Not usually, anyway. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Futaba takes a moment to run through the diagnostic checklist. Jittery, check. Fatigued, triple check. Nothing sounds more wonderful than curling up with her stuffed unicorn underneath her weighted blanket. 

It also doesn’t seem as bad as it usually does after such a scare. The anxiety’s still there, yes, but dulled. Maybe she’s getting better. The more logical answer is that the variables are different–someone needed her more than she needed them. Ryuji needed her. Later, once she’s recharged, she’ll run a control test. 

But, right now, Akira is waiting patiently, expectantly, for an answer. “I’m okay,” she answers truthfully. “Better now I’m at home base.” 

The corner of Akira’s mouth curls upward, and he pats the top of her head. The warmth and weight of his hand smooth over the frayed edges nicely. “Good.” 

She tries peeking around Akira again. “Is he okay?” 

“He will be,” Akira says, as though it were he who had been on the train with Ryuji and not her. He glances back towards the bed. When he shares a look with Morgana, his eyes narrow, just enough for Futaba, Queen of Noticing Things, to notice. Whatever decision he’s trying to reach doesn’t take long to come. “Hang on.” Leaving her near the stairs, he pads over to the bed and crouches next to it. The soft murmures between he, Morgana, and Ryuji are still too soft for Futaba to hear. The small zing of anxiety–they’re talking about her!–is tamped only by the urge to stamp her foot–it’s not fair!

But it doesn’t take long for Akira to return to her. “Futaba, this is important, okay? Can you keep this a secret?”

“Scout’s honor,” Futaba answers, in spite of never being a scout.

Akira nods, appeased. Raising his hand, he twists one of the loose curls dangling in front of his glasses. “Have you heard of age regression?” 

Regression. Well, there’s a familiar word that she never thought she’d hear out loud, let alone from Akira, let alone about Ryuji. Barely half a beat passes before she ducks around Akira to flop onto the bed. “We have a baby!?” 

Ryuji’s head flies up in alarm. If she’d thought his eyes were wide before… Behind her, Akira shuffles closer to the bed. “Calm down, Futaba.” 

“But baby!” She pulls herself up into her usual perched position. Logically, she knows there’s no reason for her to be so excited. After all, it’s pretty clear that Ryuji regressed from stress, and that’s not a whole lot of fun. She assumes. But at the same time, she wants him to know it’s okay. That he can do what he needs to feel better. 

Still, maybe it is a bit much, given the circumstances. “Sorry, Ryuji.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. When he does, his voice comes out soft, softer than Futaba’s ever heard it. “‘Sokay. ‘Cited.” 

“Of course I am!” She flings her arms out, whacking Akira in the stomach. She pays the quiet grunt no mind. “How can I not be with an itty bitty kiddo to play with?” She pauses and tilts her head. “Are you itty bitty?” 

A shrug from Ryuji. From Akira, “That would be a yes.” The floor creaks as Akira walks away from the bed. 

While Akira does whatever it is he’s doing, Futaba rests her chin on her knees and lowers her voice. “Do you want me to go?” To her surprise and glee and relief, Ryuji quickly shakes his head. She beams. Not that she’s going to tell anyone, but she doesn’t think she’d feel too good alone right now. The irony isn’t lost on her. 

Ryuji stops petting Morgana long enough to pat the spot next to him. Futaba wastes no time in scrambling to sit next to him. “How on earth are you so cute?” Even as she’s giggling at how quickly his ears turn red, she’s filing that information away for later. Her brain is buzzing at mach speed to process everything. 

“He’s cute when he wants to be,” Morgana concedes, pushing his head against Ryuji’s hand. “He knows how to use it to his advantage.” 

Even though he doesn’t say anything, Ryuji’s face twists. Then he mutters, almost too quick and too quiet for either of them to catch it. “‘M sorry.” 

“What?” Futaba blinks owlishly while her stomach sinks. She thinks she knows where this is going. “Ryuji, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Uh-huh.” Fingers drumming nervously along Morgana’s back, Ryuji is nothing but nervous energy again. “Messed today up.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Futaba loops her arm around Ryuji’s. “We’re still hanging out, aren’t we? And,” she adds as Akira returns with a bag and sits at the foot of the bed, “we get special rights to boss this nerd around!” 

“You do that anyway,” Akira points out. He opens the bag, but doesn’t take anything out. His eyes flick to Ryuji. “Do you want…?” 

Ryuji ignores him. “Wanna keep hangin’ out,” he tells Futaba earnestly. “‘M sorry if you thought I didn’t.” 

Futaba blinks again in surprise. He’d picked up on that? What else does he notice? Still it tugs the knot of worry from before completely free. “It’s okay! You were feeling pretty blegh, huh? You could have said something.” 

“You didn’ say anythin’.” 

“Because I thought I was gonna mess it up!” Futaba pokes Ryuji’s cheek. “We’re a couple of silly geese.” 

For the first time that day, Ryuji cracks a smile. “Uh-huh.” 

Akira scratches his leg. “Wasn’t Ann supposed to be with you?” 

“She had to leave.” Futaba pouts. “Evil agency swept our princess away to another castle.” 

“I see.” He fiddles with the clasp on the bag. His eyes flick to Ryuji. “Did she know?” Ryuji’s face burns. When he shakes his head, Akira sighs quietly. “Did you know?” This time, Ryuji turns his face to the wall. It’s the answer Akira was afraid of, if his frown is anything to go by. 

As much as Futaba wants to ask, she pockets the questions for later. “Akiraaaa, we’re thirsty.” 

The frown turns upside down. “Oh, are you?” Tapping the bed to get Ryuji’s attention again, he asks, gently, “Water or juice?” A complicated feeling crosses Ryuji’s face. All scrunched up with feelings that have nowhere to go. Instead of saying anything, he holds up one feeling. Akira nods. “Okay.” To Futaba, he says, “I’ll get you juice.” 

“How come I don’t get a choice?” 

“Do you want water?” 

“...no. But make it orange juice!” she demands. Akira ruffles both of their hair before leaving them be. Futaba exhales loudly through her nose.  “He’s so fussy.” 

“Bubba’s the bes’.” Ryuji rubs his eye. “Taba’s bes’, too. ‘N’ Momo.” 

Morgana flicks his tail. “Yeah, you better not forget about me.” 

“Don’t bully the baby, Momo.” Futaba reaches over and squishes his cheek.

“I’m not!” Morgana whines, bristling. It makes both Ryuji and Futaba giggle. 

When the laughter subsides and Ryuji’s placating Morgana with more pets, Futaba picks up the bag. Something rattles around inside. “What’s in here?” 

“Um.” Ryuji hesitates. He must decide the contents aren’t worth secrecy, because he follows up with, “Baby stuff.” 

“Can I see?” Once she has the go-ahead, Futaba peers inside. It’s about what she’d expect from a baby bag, but if she’s being honest, she’d expected more. A few sippy cups, a pacifier, a blanket. Tucked away at the bottom is a bottle that looks like it’s never been touched. But that’s all. No toys, no nothing. Does Ryuji not like playing when he’s regressed? Have they just not figured out what he likes to do yet? Maybe he just likes cuddles? Maybe he has more stuff at home? As much as Futaba already knows, she has next to no information about Ryuji’s specific brand of babydom. Later, she’ll poke and she’ll prod so she knows everything about it. Right now, though, she frees the blanket and wraps it around Ryuji’s shoulders. “Ooooh, this is so soft!” 

Some of the tension in Ryuji’s body drains away. He shifts a little closer to Rutaba. “Mhm. Bubba got it for me.” 

“That was super nice of him, huh?” Futaba rests her head against Ryuji’s. “We’re super lucky to have him.” 

A frizzy head pokes up over the railing. “You two talking about me?” Akira asks as he rejoins them. In his hands are two water bottles and a cup of juice. He hands the juice to Futaba.

Futaba sips her juice. The coolness soothes a dull ache in her throat that she didn’t realize was there until now. “Just about how much of a dork you are.” 

Akira scoffs as he grabs one of the sippy cups with water and hands it to Ryuji. “Takes one to know one.” 

“Hey!” Futaba nudges Ryuji. “What do you think, bub? Who’s the bigger dork?” Ryuji sips his water quietly before pointing at Akira. Futaba crows in delight while Akira gasps and presses his hand to his chest. They can see the edges of a smile from behind the spout of the cup. Mission accomplished, Futaba thinks. She nudges Akira with her foot. “We wanna watch something.” 

“Oh, do you?” Akira raises an eyebrow. “What’s the magic word?” 

She leans towards Ryuji again. “Can you help me, bud?” Nodding, he whispers something into her ear. Grinning wildly, she also points at Akira. “Abracadabra!” 

With an overexaggerated sigh, Akira slides off the bed and grabs his laptop. While he’s setting it up, Futaba gently taps her fingers against Ryuji’s cheek. “Thank you for sharing this with me, baby. And for spending time with me. I’m sorry today wasn’t a very good day.” 

“‘Sokay. Ryuji slides down until he can rest his head on her shoulder. “‘S better now. Lots of ‘sperience points.” 

“You’re right! You’re so smart, bub.” As they all settle in for an episode of Sonic–she’s not surprised in the slightest–Futaba mulls it over. All of her worries from the beginning of the day seem more like a dream than reality. Deleted. And with this li’l guy by her side, it won’t be long until they level up, together.

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

[cottoncandy-jester]

✨lie down darling Its time for a dream✨

Faking it (dad squad)

So basically this is what happens if the dad squad found out reader faked an orgasm before

This is of course 18+ and the reader is female

Daichi suwamura

Okay so daichi honestly was never worried about y'all sex life

Like you moan his name everytime why is he worried

It's when you and the rest of the karasuno group get drunk and play truth of dare

When it's your turn.. you're drunk off six shots of tequila and tanaka asks you to reveal your deepest secret

"okay okay! Sooo during me and daichi's fourth anniversary, we fucked and I may have totally faked it"

Wait what.

WHAT?!

Everyone else is laughing but daichi is over here having a mental breakdown

You did what?!

How many more have you faked?! Were they all fake?! Did he ever really make you cum?

It did not take long for daichi to drag you away to the nearest bathroom

You gasp when daichi pinned you against the wall his mouth attacking your neck while his hands roamed your body now gripping your hips as he ripped your panties off.

"faked an orgasm?! Damn it how many did you fake? Doesn't matter don't tell me. I'm going to fuck you against this wall and you are going to cum over and over til I know for sure you like having sex with me"

He fucked you until you couldn't think anymore, he also made sure EVERYONE heard it.

Tooru oikawa

You were having girl talk with the other managers and the topic of sex came up

They all assume he's some sex god which makes you laugh

Oikawa is honestly such a dork during sex that you couldn't help but spills beans

"honestly he was so nervous during our first time, It was so cute..though he didn't really make me.. y'know"

Oh BOY

News travelled fast and before you know it at 4am you had a pissed oikawa at your door

The loud harsh banging interrupted your sleep and you went to the door only to see oikawa standing there, your sleepy eyes trailed his body up and down and you noticed he was gripping his phone so tight his knuckles turned white, you didn't even get to speak when the male stormed inside and let's out a frustrated sigh.

"why are rumors about me being bad in bed spreading around?!"

"I dunno...maybe you have a hater, babe it's like 4am..why are you here?"

Oikawa snapped his head towards you before walking towards you anger fuming towards you before he gripped your arm tightly.

"everyone is saying you started the rumor, so tell me little cutie what the fuck have you been saying?"

Your eyes got wide as the conversation with the girls resurfaced in your head and you softly reached out to put your hands on his cheeks which made him relax but he was still clearly annoyed.

"sorry, tooru it was just one little story. Girl talk y'know and it's fine lots of people can't make their partner cum their first time you just ha-"

You were cut off by the male roughly pulling you towards your room, everytime you tried to speak oikawa would glare at you before demanding that you shut up. Once in your room he pushed you on the bed his ego clearing having dropped now that you admitted the truth.

"I am good at sex! I am Great! I just have to prove to you that you are with the best man ever"

As he spoke he started to strip before his cold glare landed on you before he crawled ontop and wrapped a hand around your throat.

"you are going to be begging me to stop making you cum once I'm done with you"

He made you tell everyone that you cummed extra hard that night, even if it was super embarrassing to say.

Tetsuro kuroo

You two were arguing

It started with him being jealous of a person at work flirting with you and it just blew up

Screams and swears shooting back at the other

Low blows were dealt

You both don't even remember what the fight was about

Then..you said it

"God you are so cocky! It's shit like that, that make me fake orgasms during sex"

He shut up after that one for sure

All he can think about was how many did you fake and how he failed as your lover

Why didn't you tell him you weren't feeling good during sex?

Kuroo remained quiet as he let his brain think, after saying it you quickly walked over and hugged him hoping he wasn't angry at you

"baby! I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was just upset and you were just upset you forgive me yeah?"

"how many times?"

"that doe-"

"how many damn times?!"

You flinched when he forced you to look at him showing pain in his eyes and you couldn't help but be honest with him.

"only a few, during those times where I was just really sleepy that's it"

Kuroo let's out a shaky sigh before he peppered soft kisses along your neck. He was pretty hurt at the moment but he did want to make it up to you, plus make up sex was always good

"come, let's talk this out yeah?"

His tone was soft as he guided you to the bedroom thought talking wasn't the plan he had, he wanted to make you see stars and make sure he could actually make you cum.

Koutaro bokuto

Okay so maybe it wasn't a good idea to pump up bokuto's ego every time you guys have sex

All your praise makes him think he's the best in the world

But when it came time for a girls night at you and bokuto's place stuff starts to spill

You told bokuto to spend the night at akaashi or something but you didnt think he would come home

"sooo [y/n]! How is bokuto in bed?! We gotta know"

The question made you embarrassed while bokuto stood outside you guys' bedroom listening in

Yes dear wife tell them how my sex is the best in the world

"koutaro, tries his best. Sometimes he gets a little too excited and cums early so he gets too tired to finish and we end up cuddling before I can climax so I just fake it"

WHAT?!

Bokuto automatically swings the door open scaring both you and the girls

He is legit tearing up and about to sob

After, very quickly telling the girls to leave he cries into your stomach while you pet his head

"why didn't you tell me?! I would have made it all better"

"oh..kou..it's no big deal"

Your soothing which would usually work just wasn't working right now, bokuto sniffled as he looked up at you with tearful eyes, you were his baby owl and he couldnt even make you feel good?!

He couldn't believe that! No he won't accept that! Before you can respond bokuto pushed you down on the bed before starting to pull your pants and underwear off your body

"kou! W-what the hell?!"

"just let me do this please! I need to know that I can do this, I just want you to be happy with me..so..let me worship you"

You were shocked but shuddered at the feeling of soft kisses against your inner thigh, with one final sniffle bokuto was now focused on something else.

He proceeded to eat you out that night until you cummed so much that you was sobbing but by the end of it he was so happy to know that he can make you cum and of course he was more mindful about your needs.

Wakatoshi ushijima

Oh jeez

Okay so he makes it very clear that bedroom talk is off limits

What you two do in bed is your business hell you guys don't really talk about sex and spend more time just doing it

You are very tight lipped about your sex life but tendou Is a very stubborn guy

He is constantly asking you what's it like..mostly cause he wants to tease wakatoshi

After finally bothering you to the point where you wanna hit him you confess

"toshi is great okay?! I mean sure he has his moments of not really getting me there but it's good so stop asking!"

OHOHOHO HE HAS TO KNOW MORE

after explaining that wakatoshi tends to be boringly vanilla you expect him to let it go

No bitch this is tendou 'i give no fucks' satori

Proceeds to tease wakatoshi about it every chance he gets

"wow who knew you could be boring in all departments"

"sooooo, you really like it vanilla huh?"

Of course oblivious wakatoshi doesn't pay him any mind until a drunk tendou spills the beans

"guess who told me that you're boring in bedddd~ pfft she said you are so slow that it is like fucking a box"

You of course didn't say that but you were shocked to see wakatoshi at your door the next day

"did you tell tendou about our sex life?"

Well fuck.

you honestly should have expected this. You let out a shaky sigh as you merely avoided eye contact you felt pretty embarrassed and ashamed

"yeah, sorry toshi he kept bugging me about it"

"you telling him is not why I'm upset"

You were honestly shocked and looked up only to see wakatoshi's face close to yours, his eyes were intense and honestly gave you chills.

"did you say I was boring during sex? Is this true?"

"um..yeah but it's okay I mean it's still good it's just very..typical I mean we do the same stuff all the time and you just tend to be, slow"

Wakatoshi was a little shocked by your words but he calmly sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of what exactly he needed to do.

"then my future wife, allow me to spend the night making you feel good instead of myself, you can tell me exactly what I need to do in order to bring you to climax again and again."

And you did exactly that, he was quite obedient and even did things he never done before just so he can make you feel good.

[olynix]

Guess who tried their had at writing again! I like to think I’ve gotten better (if anyone’s wondering it’s cross posted on Wattpad and Ao3 too)

Sleepover Aftermaths And Gay Panic

‘This is a problem’ Nico thought as he looked at Will. He was still sleeping, sunlight softly covering his frame from the window. Mumbling something about cats and cheese. ‘A big, big, problem.’

It was just supposed to be a sleepover, a completely platonic bros-being-bros, pals-being-pals sleepover. Alas it seemed the fates had other plans.

After watching every Disney movie in existence (as per Will’s demand), since the Hephaestus cabin wanted them to test out their newest monster-proof tech, they had decided to settle down on Nico’s bed for a game of UNO, somewhere along the way falling asleep.

Great right? Wrong.

The entire time Nico’s brain had other plans, screaming senselessly whenever their hands so much as brushed, forcing his heart to flutter at every smile, making his face do it’s best imitation of vermilion, it was ridiculous.

And don’t even get him started on his reaction to Will winning their ridiculously lengthy game of UNO, cheering and wearing that brighter than life smile that made Nico’s heart become a drum and his face give a tomato a run for its money.

He was getting off topic.

After they’d fallen asleep in his bed, they’d somehow found each other in the middle of the night; wrapping their arms around each other like koalas to trees and never letting go.

Nico (thank gods) had woken up first, and found himself in a bed with his crush, his crush who he doubted was even into him, his crush who was snuggling him with no apparent intention of letting go anytime in the near future, his crush who looked like he could outshine even his Dad’s godly form if he wished it, and promptly panicked.

What does Nico do when he panics?

Address the situation like a normal, competent human being? No.

Make a plan? No.

Freeze up? Apparently not.

No, what Nico does when he panics is shadow travel to the Underwood and sprint up to his stepmother screaming “What am I supposed to do?!”

You’d think sprinting up to a goddess in skull pajamas at 4am would get you cursed so badly you’d wish you had landed up in the fields of punishment. Instead, what it landed Nico was an exasperated look and an even more exasperated “What did I tell you about playing fetch with Cerberus?”

“It wasn’t Cerberus!” Persephone looked him up and down. “Really! It wasn’t Cerberus”

“Well then who was it?” Her question was met with a flustered silence, she let out a sigh “I’ll get the Furies”

“Wait no-“ she was already halfway on her way to call them. “It was Will! It was Will”

She stopped mid motion

And her jaw dropped.

“Your crush Will? Apollo’s kid? That Will?” She looked at him in disbelief, not that he could blame her; she was always looking for more info on his crush. Info he usually steadfastly refused with a flustered subject change that wasn’t subtle in the slightest.

“...yes” She looked at him, looked at his appearance, looked at the clock on her nightstand, looked back and him, and promptly demanded answers.

“What happened?!” It was then Nico realized that 1) Persephone was staring at him like he’d grown a second head and 2) all of those things listed above didn’t exactly paint a PG picture.

“It wasn’t that!” She looked at him disbelievingly “really!”

“Well then what was it?” She crossed her legs and sat back, clearly getting comfortable for the inevitable hour-long discussion at least.

“Well...”

\\~*•*~//

Will was confused.

Scratch that, Will wasn’t really confused, more like worried.

Because he woke up alone in a bed.

Normally that wouldn’t be concerning, normally he would’ve stretched and begrudgingly got up to start the day, soaking up the first few rays of sun. Normally he wasn’t waking up in his crushes bed after a sleepover with said crush nowhere to be found.

Will could’ve rationalized this: maybe he slept in, maybe Nico was training, maybe Nico was using the bathroom or getting ready.

Except he can’t sleep in, and he seriously doubted I-sleep-till-noon-on-a-good-day Nico had woken up at 6:30 and decided ‘hey, wanna know what’ll be so much better than sleeping in for 5 more hours like I usually do? Leaving bed and stabbing bags of hay with my swords’

So yeah, Will was worried.

That was, until he got a face full of tired, emo, Italian. And an earful of colorful Italian curses to boot.

“Hi” Nico looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d forgotten Will was there, which quickly turned into a squak after Will realized that he had just shadow travelled and yanked his ear.

“What did I say about shadow traveling?!” He was sure that if Kayla were here she’d tease him about acting like a disgruntled dad, especially to Nico of all people. What he got in place of that was a mumbled “don’t do it”

“Until?” His grip on Nico’s ear still hadn’t let up, Nico gave a big sigh.

“Until your sure I won’t spontaneously turn into a ghost as soon as I use my powers”

“Exactly! You’re supposed to be recovering, not taking a spontaneous trip to Peru” Nico gave him a weird look.

“Why would I go to Peru?” Will noticed Nico was still in his pajamas. Bad brain, focus.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Nico looked at him and sighed

“I went to the underworld” Will tilted his head in confusion, Nico’s cheeks reddened for some reason. “I was visiting Persephone.”

’Oh, that explained it.’ He and Persephone had gotten really close over the years, and it wasn’t surprising for Nico to disappear from camp randomly to visit her, ‘But still...’

Will sighed, and looked at the Italian boy “Next time you visit her can you please wait until your healthier, at least? You scared me half to death.” Nico looked at him and let out a begrudging “fine”

‘well’ Will thought ‘it’s something, for now at least’ he looked at the time “I should probably get going”

Nico looked startled for a second “Yeah, see you at the pavilion?” Will smiled

“You bet it.”

[farfromparker]

Too Busy Being Yours Part 2

Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Read Part 1!

Summary: Tony sent you on a mission with Bucky and Sam and Natasha and not Peter. When you finally get back, you’ve got a lot of time to make up for.

Warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), sub!peter (Peter is 19!)

Word Count: 4.5k

It’s worse.

Oh it’s so much worse.

Peter’s not sure what he was expecting… to not want you more? To think about you less because he’s slept with you? For the dreams to stop? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And as luck would have it, or rather not have it, Tony had sent you on a mission the morning after your first night together. With Bucky and Sam and Natasha, and not Peter. You’d left so early, Peter didn’t even get to say goodbye. It was supposed to take a few days. But it had been almost two weeks now and Peter was losing his mind. He’d jacked off more in the past several days than he had in months but it was never enough. He’d started pouting instead, hassling Mr. Stark for any update on when you’d be back.

“Top secret, kid,” he’d always reply, smirking.

It was closing in on 16 days without you when F.R.I.D.A.Y. finally wakes him. Alerting him that you and the others had finally returned. He trips over his sheets trying to get out of bed fast enough. He doesn’t even bother pulling a shirt on, his boxers alone will suffice.

He gets down to the ground floor just as you and Natasha are walking in. Your black stealth suit hugs your body, hips swaying as you talk over details of the mission with Tony.

Peter feels about 5 inches tall suddenly, bare foot, shirtless, waiting for you. But you’ve got to debrief. Tony needs to know everything that happened and it’s barley 1am. You won’t be free until the morning and by then all you’ll want to do is sleep. He wrings his hands together nervously.

For a moment, he debates just going back to his room in an attempt to save face but as soon as the idea crosses his mind, you see him.

Your eyes lock and a wide grin spreads across your face. “Peter,” you say, interrupting Tony.

Peter returns your smile, cheeks aching with how happy he is to see you. Tony takes a moment to be dramatically offended, studying the two of you before telling you to just meet him in the third floor conference room. Natasha winks at you as she walks by, following Tony upstairs.

“Hey,” you breath.

“Hi,” he returns, sighing as you wrap your arms around the nape of his neck. His hands settle on your hips as you press against him. You smell like gunpowder and dirt… and blood. “Are you hurt?” He asks, eyebrows pinching.

You smile at his concern, “Nothing I can’t handle baby boy.”

And that pet name shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. He bites his lip and watches your gaze flick down to the movement. Finally, you lean in and kiss him. Lips molding together and that itch he hasn’t been able to scratch starts to ease. The silence is broken quickly though by whistles and catcalls. He freezes, making out the voices of Sam and Bucky. He thinks of pulling away, telling them to fuck off but your grip tightens on the back of his neck, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. Thankfully the two of them make no more fuss, continuing upstairs.

He sighs when you pull away, not nearly close to having his fill of you.

“I need to debrief, and then shower,” you state, trailing a finger down his stomach, “wait for me up in my room?”

“Okay, yeah, course.” He sounds eager but with the feeling of your lips still burning against his, he knows you feel the same way.

You wink, “Perfect, shouldn’t be too long.”

Famous last words.

He falls asleep in your bed just past 2am, and when he wakes to the door opening, the neon red numbers of your clock tell him it’s almost 4am.

“Hey,” he rubs sleep from his eyes and sits up so he can see you properly.

“Sorry Peter, clearly I underestimated just how detail oriented Stark can be.”

“No, no it’s fine. Do you uh - want me to go back to my room?”

You smile sweetly, “Only if you want to.”

He definitely doesn’t want to. When he makes no move to get off your bed, you smile again, shutting your door behind you.

“Good. I need to shower. And I’m going to ask you to join but not in the fun way.” You walk into the bathroom and turn the light on, looking back at him. “My injuries may be a little worse than I initially lead on.”

Peter jumps out of bed then, coming over to you, hands hovering close to your sides as if he’s expecting you to collapse.

“I need help getting out of this suit.”

He nods, following you into the light. Carefully, you thread your fingers into your hair to pull it to the side. Peter can see the zipper now, and delicately, he pulls it down. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut as your bruises began to make themselves known. Your spine is riddled with them, dark purple and angry looking. Some are green around the edges, a few days old by now.

As you shrug out of the suit he sees stitches wind around the curve of your waist, roughly the length of his thumb. The suit pools around your ankles and he drops to his knees, helping get your legs free. There’s another large bruise on the outside of your right thigh and he finds himself leaning in, placing a soft kiss on the purple flesh.

“Y/n,” he whispers, voice cracking.

You turn to look at him, and he hadn’t even realized he was crying until your thumb wipes away his tears.

“Downstairs, you didn’t seem - why didn’t you tell me?”

You rub his cheek, smiling sadly, “I’m on a hell of a pain killer, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well I’m officially worried.” He pouts. Catching sight of a cut on your arm, dried blood smeared across your skin.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure, running your fingers through his hair, “I’ve been through worse. Now c’mon, help me shower.”

He’s reluctant, he has so many questions but the look in your eyes tells him to stop, so he succumbs. He’ll fish the answers out of you later. And so he brings himself to the present, focusing on what’s important now. He helps you out of your bra and underwear, kicking his boxers off quickly as well before turning the water on and reaching out for you.

You hiss when the water first touches you, spraying across damaged and tender skin. Peter’s gentle, helping rub away dirt and blood.

He offers to wash your hair and your eyes sparkle at his words. You don’t have trouble raising your arms above your head, you could do it yourself. But in this moment, you really don’t want to. So you accept his help, guiding him through the steps.

“I never use conditioner,” he confesses, having no clue when and how much of it to use.

“The fact that your hair is that soft without it is really offensive.” You grumble, body sagging under his touches as he massages your head. Small moans of pleasure slipping past your lips.

You stay under the spray of the water longer than necessary, feeling the heat pound against your tired body. Peter is next you, keeping himself close, arm loose around your waist like he still doesn’t trust your legs to keep you upright. He’s at an awkward angle though, you notice, hips turned away from you and you smile to yourself.

“You’re hard.”

“What? I mean - yes. But don’t mind him, he’s a prick, doesn’t know how to read a room. This is clearly not the time.”

You laugh against his shoulder, “It’s a complement honestly, if we were in here together and you weren’t hard, I think I’d be offended.”

You pause for a second, chewing on your bottom lip before turning and looking him in the eyes, “Are you going to take care of it?”

He sputters, “Wha- now? I don’t- I’m - no?”

You smile at him, that innocent way about him you remember is still there. His big, puppy dog eyes stare back at you for answers. He wants so much, you can feel it in the way he touches you, see it in how he interacts with you. It pleads with you to crack it open. And god do you want to.

You turn the water off and decide, baby steps. You must crawl before you walk, walk before you can run.

As you step out of the shower, Peter’s already reaching for a towel and wrapping it around you. You dry off as quickly as you can, tenderly dabbing at your injuries. Peter’s rubbing a towel against his curls, turned away from you, still subconsciously embarrassed. You hang your towel, running your fingers through your wet locks when he reaches for his boxers.

You touch him softly as you walk by, enough to get his attention and he looks at you. “Sleep naked Peter.” It’s meant as a suggestion, but there’s enough of an order in your tone that Peter doesn’t think twice about not listening.

He swallows harshly, cock still hard between his thighs and he wants to have a real conversation with his dick because this is so not the time. Yes, you’re still naked, and gorgeous as ever… but covered in bruises, and minutes ago he was still watching your blood circle the drain. Fuck hormones.

You crawl into bed gingerly, finding the best position to accommodate your sore body. He flicks the bathroom light off, hoping to regain at least some of his dignity in the dark. But no, your blinds aren’t pulled and there’s a full moon, light streaming in and he feels like, if anything, it just accentuates the fact that his dick has a mind of its own.

He lifts up the sheets, settling down easily into your bed. You’re on your side, facing him, and he can feel your stare.

He turns towards you, reaching out to cup your cheek, “Should get some sleep.” He suggests, rubbing his thumb along your skin. He feels you smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.

“What if I’m not sleepy? What if I don’t think you are either?”

“Y/n we can’t have sex, you’re not-”

“No, I’m in no shape for that. But I wouldn’t mind a show.”

It takes him a second, his brain processing what you're suggesting. “You wanna watch me?”

You nod firmly, reaching out under the sheets to touch him. “I’d like that very much Peter. I want to hear the sounds you make when you touch yourself. I want to hear the obscene wet noises as you fist your cock. I want you to tell me what you think about; what you have been thinking about since I’ve been gone.”

His mouth pops open. He was annoyingly hard before, a small voice in the back of his mind. Now it’s screaming in his face, throbbing and aching and he can’t ignore it any longer. You read his expression, not needing a vocal affirmation to know he’ll do exactly what you want.

“There’s lube in the drawer,” you nod towards your nightstand behind him. He fumbles, the moonlight not helping aid in his search. His fingers grope along the contents and he hesitates when he realizes what he’s found. “Don’t mind the vibrator. Or… you can use that on me later if you want to.”

Peter whines pathetically. Cock twitching, leaking a bead of pre cum. You haven’t touched him, you won't be touching him, and yet the hold you have over him is tangible. Finally, his fingers wrap around the little bottle and he settles onto his back, pushing the sheets down his body so you can see. He chews on his lip, finding your eyes on the dim light and waits, wanting you to guide him.

“Touch yourself sweetheart.”

He eagerly pops the cap on the bottle of lube, drizzling a dollop of liquid onto his palm. You shake your head.

“More. I want your dick to be as wet as it would be if you were fucking me.”

He groans, dropping his head back into the pillow. His cock jerks against his stomach again, more pre cum dribbling down onto his skin.

You reach a hand out, fingers hovering over the head of his dick. “Are you getting wet for me baby boy?”

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut to try and get a grip. He feels your hand on his jaw then, turning his head towards you and he opens his eyes.

“Answer me, Peter.” Your voice is soft but firm.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’m so fucking hard for you my cock is leaking.”

You smile devilishly, proud of his dirty mouth. You drop your hand away, giving him the signal to continue. He sucks in a deep breath, squeezing more lube into his hand. You don’t comment this time so he assumes you’re happy with the amount. He shuts the lid and tosses the bottle aside, immediately forgotten. Slowly, he reaches down, wrapping a fist around himself and his hips flex up into his hand. He spreads the lube around generously and in no time at all that obscene wet noise you wanted to hear is ringing in his ears.

He tugs at his cock gradually, you wanted a show and he wants to give you one. But fuck if this isn’t going to test his stamina. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, the sting of pain a mild distraction.

You trail your fingers down his stomach, feeling the muscles work beneath your touch. “Have you been doing this since I’ve been gone?”

“Yes,” and he knows you want to hear more so he brings up the courage to keep talking, “daily, multiple times a day.” His breathing is starting to labor, that ache in his groin is growing stronger.

“And what do you think about?”

“You, always you. Your skin, your touch, how wet you were…” for me.

“I’m wet now, Peter. Do you wanna feel me?”

There’s only one thing in this moment that could have pulled his hand off his cock and it’s your offer. “God yes.” He says quickly, hand falling away from himself. He turns towards you and gingerly you move onto your back, spreading your legs for him. His fingers ghost along the inside of your thigh. He’s touched you before, hell you’ve cum on his cock already. But this seems different, more intimate and he’s shyer than he was that first time.

He dips his finger along your pussy slowly and his chest tightens when he feels how wet you are. You sigh as he skims across your clit, and he moves down, carefully pushing his middle finger inside you. His cock throbs as your wetness and heat envelope his finger.

“I - can I-” he clears his throat. “I wanna taste you.”

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair and he moves easily as you tug his head back to look him in the eyes.

You nod, “If you want to Peter, you can. You can do anything you want to me.”

He whines and squeezes his eyes shut. “You can’t just say things like that.”

You smirk, continuing to rake your fingers along his scalp, “Why? It’s true.”

He glares at you, trying to keep his voice level to hide the fact that he’s putty in your hands (like you don’t already know). “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grumbles, getting up to settle between your legs, careful not to bump against you.

You laugh, “Death by orgasm? There’s no better way to die.”

He doesn’t have a retort, mostly because you’re right, and so he just rolls his eyes, focusing on what’s in front of him. And what’s in front of him has him dizzy with arousal. You’ve spread your legs further for him, and he can see your wetness now, can smell you and all he wants to do is bury his face between your thighs.

He’s self conscious though, now that his brain has caught up with his body. You reach for his hand, seeing his hesitation and squeeze, he glances up to see you staring back at him.

“You don’t have to, Peter.”

“No! God no, it’s not that. I want to - I really want to. I just - I’ve never…”

“You might not like it.” You say, realistically. And you’re not going to force him into anything, there are a million different ways he could get you off without his tongue.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m going to like it, I just - I wanna make sure you like it.”

It’d be impossible to say that eagerness and willing to please didn’t turn you on even more. “I’ll tell you what I like.”

He likes the sound of that, he likes when you tell him what to do, and all he really wants is to hear his name falling from your lips. He nods, mostly to himself and leans in.

He’s not tentative like you thought he would be. For lack of a better word, he dives in, forcing a gasp from you lips. He moans when he gets a real taste of you, hands gripping into the sheets to pull you closer. He can properly bury himself deeper in your cunt now. Nose bumping steadily against your clit.

“Fuck, Peter.”

And he doubles down on his efforts, he wants to keep hearing you, knowing he’s the cause. It's a little uncoordinated, but his ambition is more than enough to make up for it.

“That’s good, yeah.” You moan, reaching down to curl a fist in his hair. “You can -” and you guide him a little, bringing his tongue up to your clit. “Suck.”

And he does, eyes opening for the first time since he got his mouth on you and his cock throbs with the sight he’s met with. Your back is arched off the bed, nipples hard, but skin soft under the glow of the moon. He almost forgets to keep his hands off you. Wanting nothing more than to feel you under his fingertips but he can’t remember where you’re hurt and the last thing he wants to do is fuck this up.

So he closes his eyes again, trying to focus but it’s hard to ignore how hard he is now. Your whimpers and moans going straight to his dick. And if he can’t touch you then he has to touch himself.

He groans as he wraps his hand around his cock, tugging quickly, to turned on to try and make this last.

“Don’t touch yourself Peter, I wanna be able to see you cum.”

He lets go immediately, making a desperate noise against you as he opens his eyes to meet your stare. He twitches under your gaze, aching for release but he won’t disobey you. Wouldn’t dream of it.

So he focuses back on you, your scent, your taste. You’re trembling under his touch now, eyes slipping shut as he flattens his tongue and works it against your clit.

“Oh fuck Peter, so good sweetheart.”

He’s completely buzzing under your praise, he’s dreamt about this, doing this to you, making you feel this way, and now it’s real. The whole situation is heady.

Your hand is searching for purchase when your fingertips skim across Peter’s knuckles. He reaches for you and you intertwine your fingers, squeezing his hand as he brings your closer and closer to orgasm.

Your toes curl and you’re doing everything in your power to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. It’s building quickly now, you can’t stop yourself from rocking your hips against his mouth.

“Peter, Peter, I’m gonna cum,”

It slams into you hard and fast. Back arching off the bed, body absolutely shaking from the force of it and Peter is working you through it, tongue steady against your clit and he can feel you clenching and fluttering.

When you sag back into the mattress, he pulls away. You body is glistening under the moonlight, chest heaving and Peter did that to you.

You look down at him, still breathing hard and run your fingers through his curls. He sighs into your touch, “How have you not eaten pussy before?”

And as it ridiculous as it feels in the moment, he blushes. Simply shrugging as an answer.

You rub along his scalp gently, “Did you like it Peter?”

“So much, could do that to you every day, twice a day, and not get sick of it.” Licking his lips to accentuate his point. Because hearing you like that? Doing that to you? Peter feels on top of the world.

You smile, “Come ‘ere.”

And he does, crawling over you carefully to situate himself against your side. You pull him into a kiss, and he opens his mouth to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. His cock nudges against your hip and you reach over to touch him, fingers running lightly up his hot, hard flesh. He moans, pulling away from your mouth because it suddenly feels like he can’t breath.

“Still feel like putting a show on for me?” You ask, eyes sparkling.

He laughs, rolling onto his back, “Won’t be much of a show.” And he’s not kidding, he knows once he gets his hand around his cock this will all be over soon.

You smirk, pushing up against his side, “That’s okay, the finale is the best part anyway.”

He can feel your nipples hard against his skin, lips ghosting along the shell of his ear as you whisper to him. He gets a hand around the base of his dick, squeezing as his stomach muscles jump.

“You’re gorgeous, Peter.” You purr. His breathing is uneven already, hips beginning to thrust up into his hand. “Such a pretty cock too. Love how you feel inside me. Can’t wait until you can properly fuck me again.”

He’s whimpering now, gasping loudly on every down stroke. “Y/n, I’m gonna - I can’t… I’m so close.”

“That’s alright baby boy, go on, cum for me.”

He moans your name, long and loud, echoing around the room and you’re sure he’s woken the entire tower. Pride prickles along your skin having Peter sound like that with your name on his lips.

He spills across his stomach, shuddering under his own touch. His eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back and you can see the veins prominent in his neck. He’s gasping, aftershocks of his orgasm vibrating through him.

His hand falls away and he opens his eyes just in time to see you dip your finger along the cum scattered across his stomach. You lock eyes with him as you bring your finger to your mouth, sucking obscenely.

He moans pitifully, “Fuck me.”

You pull your finger out your mouth slowly, savoring his taste. He can’t peel his eyes off you and you smirk. “Since I literally can’t fuck you, I’ll take it that was a figurative statement.”

He laughs, “It was definitely meant as both, just have to wait a bit for the literal part to come back into play.”

He gets up and heads to the bathroom to clean up. You reach for the sheets to wrap around your body, the air the room feels chilly now.

He comes back to bed and the heat from his body is lovely welcome. He kisses you on the cheek before moving to your lips, “Goodnight beautiful.” He says sweetly, one last kiss on the lips before he moves towards the side of the bed. He lays down on his side, facing you.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and you can see him watching you, “What are doing all the way over there?”

“I - your bruises, I don’t wanna hurt -”

“Remember what I said about a hell of a pain killer?” You ask as you slide up against him, nuzzling into his neck. “Besides, I'll sleep better if I’m on my side.”

Delicately, he wraps his arm around you, helping you snuggle against him. He pulls the blankets up around the two of you, relaxing into your bed.

“I missed you so much.” He confesses. Nervous to admit it out loud but figures it’s best to just be upfront with you.

You press your lips to his neck, “I missed you too Peter.”

The sky is starting to lighten, soft blues cascading over the horizon. You’re snug against his side, breathing deep and even and Peter falls asleep smiling.

***

You and Peter walk into the kitchen in the morning, nay afternoon, body stiff as your bruises continue to heal. Steve, Bucky, and Natasha are at the dining table. Natasha is in sweats, drinking coffee, no doubt having been awake not much longer than the two of you have. When she sees you walk in she breaks into a grin, leaning back in her chair and cocking an eyebrow at you. You smile back, knowing what’s coming.

There’s a chorus of ‘mornings’ around the kitchen and you pour yourself some coffee. Hopping up on the counter top after you’ve filled your cup, legs dangling against the cabinets. Peter hesitates for a moment, wanting to step into your space. You reach for his arm, giving him the okay to be close to you in front of them and he moves to stand between your legs, resting his back against your chest.

Bucky’s curled over a bowl of cereal. Steve’s reading the paper, and you notice how he pulls it up past his eyes as you glance in his direction.

“Peter, how was your night?” Natasha asks cooly. Smile cracking open wider when she watches Peter blush.

Steve groans. “You can’t leave anything alone can you?”

Natasha simply laughs and Bucky cuts in, “C’mon Steve, the whole tower heard em, it’s only fair to give them hell for it the next day.” Bucky turns his attention back to the two of you, “So Peter, I think Nat asked you a question.” He’s poking, wanting to embarrass Peter further but you can feel his demeanor change.

Peter squares his shoulders, his confidence returning, “Good, I had sex with my girlfriend I hadn’t seen in over 2 weeks. How was yours?”

You can see a smirk twitching on Steve’s lips and Natasha looks akin to the Cheshire Cat, leaning over the table, “I think Peter asked you a question Buck.”

Bucky grumbles, returning to his cereal. Steve gets back to actually reading the paper and Natasha settles back into her coffee.

You run your fingers up Peter’s arm and he turns to you, hands splaying across your thighs as he looks at you. “Girlfriend?” You ask quietly.

And that beautiful blush returns, “It just slipped out,” he whispers, trying to keep this conversation between the two of you, “I’m sorry - I know we haven’t - I mean I don’t know if you-”

“I like the sound of it.” You cut him off, saving him from his own rambling.

His eyes widen, “You do?”

You nod, biting back an even bigger smile than the one adorning Peter’s face right now.

“Girlfriend,” he says again, leaning in to brush his lips against yours and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

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[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter Five (Zuko x Reader)

Part Four

Word Count: 3,300

Author’s Note: I was up until 4am finishing this on Thursday night, and honestly, the way my single brain cell was barely functioning at that point, I’m surprised this even got done, let alone that it got done relatively well. We’re also getting super close to 1,000 followers, so if you like this series or any of my other works, PLEASE subscribe! I’ve got some fun stuff planned once we get there that I’m really excited to start planning! 

~ Muerta

Despite their rocky beginning, your first few weeks as Lady of the Fire Nation go surprisingly well. After your conflict with Advisor Lin, everyone begins to treat you with newfound respect - even Zuko. Your first breakfast together was the last time he advised any of your aids to be moderate or keep their distance from you, instead encouraging them to speak to you as directly as they would him, openly reproving them when they treat you as if you aren't capable of grasping everything they face you with; of course, you very much feel like you aren't, remaining stoic during morning briefings in the dining room while inwardly panicking, hearing everything but only able to decipher about half of it. You’re lucky you’re still shadowing the Firelord, learning your place and duties; once you’re sent out on your own, you have a feeling you’ll drown before you even get the chance to tread water. 

Protective as he is, Sokka arranges to stay in the palace until you’re completely settled, stating that it’s his duty as the chief ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe; you know that the real reason is because he’s worried to death about you, trying his hardest to keep up the tough, unflappable big brother act for nobody's sake but his own. Toph also decides to extend her trip, quite concerned herself but mostly using the political tension as an excuse to catch up with you, Zuko, and Iroh - you don't mind, since having her around is an endless comfort to you, and you often invite her to sleep in your room so you can pretend that you’re just two friends enjoying normal young adult lives. 

Each day spent in Firelady prep school is a new lesson in what exactly the role means, and you’re quickly finding that it’s much more than observing any of the first ladies of the Water Tribe could have ever prepared you for. They were considered accessories to their chiefs, appearing beside their husbands mostly for aesthetics and only truly serving the purpose of giving birth to sons to take his place; as the Firelord’s wife, you’re seen as an extension of him, and he an extension of you. Your people view you as the monarch and matriarch of a massive, powerful clan, and expect you to live and act in sync with one another for the betterment of your children, both literal and metaphorical. Nation comes before everything, any action that could suggest intentions otherwise criticized with the utmost scrutiny; disgrace is all too easy, while honor seems near impossible. 

You have tea with Zuko every night before bed; the more you learn about the culture of his upbringing, the more you empathize with his younger self. 

“I understand now why you were so angry,” you admit to him one night. “They make you feel as if just being human were a mistake. I'm already frustrated - I can't imagine what seventeen years of it was like.”

Zuko hums, his face taking on a wistful, somber expression. 

“That's what my father did to me,” he explains. “Everything was wrong, even if it was what felt natural.” 

He takes your hand in his, his thumb grazing over your knuckles as he gazes off in thought. 

“We can change that, though,” he tells you. “Things already feel better with you here.” 

For a country that just ended a century long war in which they were the main aggressor, you would think that your advisors would put more energy into matters of diplomatic affairs than your image. 

“I'm just uncertain what a choice like this could make the nation feel,” Advisor Yong says. “We’re already walking a very delicate line.”

You stand in one of the palace’s many meeting parlors with Zuko, Advisors Yong and Sung, Sokka, Iroh, and the royal seamstress, pouring over multiple yards of fabric she's brought for the robes that will immortalize you in your wedding portrait. For the past forty-five minutes, you've been debating whether you should be pictured wearing Fire Nation or Water Tribe clothes - the proceedings have been dismal at best. 

“The representation of our tribe is important to our people,” Sokka replies to Advisor Yong. “We’ve been small for decades, and mostly because of the Fire Nation - she should wear a traditional dress.” 

“But certain people in our nation are still very put off by the idea of a foreign queen,” Advisor Yong argues. “A man was already killed over the matter; embracing it so fully could spark anger and endanger her and the Firelord even more.” 

In the time you've spent with Advisor Yong, she's grown to be your favorite of anyone within the royal council. Her small stature and plump, motherly features make her seem gentle and subdued, but her kindness only runs so deep; when faced with confrontation, she's like an angry bull - fierce, but in a way that's so swift and graceful, you barely notice her goring into you until she's shredded you to pieces. She's been one of your most supportive council members as well, guiding you in matters of proper Fire Nation etiquette and culture and sticking her neck out farther than could possibly be expected to keep you safe. You can see Sokka getting irritable, but you know she speaks with a voice that only has your best interests in mind. 

“Perhaps we should consider the external perception,” Advisor Sung suggests. His soft spoken manner is a welcome reprieve from the increasing bitterness in Yong and Sokka’s tones. “Yes, it's quite important that the Southern Tribe is recognized, and doing so will present a compassionate image of our nation. On the other hand, however, having our lord and lady in different traditional dress could suggest division; picturing them as the same would imply a more unified pair.” 

“Maybe we should put Zuko in a Water Tribe outfit,” you suggest flatly. “Make it look like we’re pushing you guys around for a change.” 

Zuko snickers beside you, raising a hand to his mouth to (ineffectively) stifle the sound under the guise of a cough. The rest of the room is deathly silent, its occupants either oblivious to your sarcasm or deeply unamused by it. 

“I believe what our lady is trying to convey,” Iroh chimes in, “is that we have hardly taken her own thoughts into consideration. After all, it is her marriage and her people she must represent.” 

“Okay, so what do you think?” Sokka prods, turning to you. “Do you want to wear Fire Nation clothes or Water Tribe ones?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes to the mixture of red and blue fabric sprawled out before you. 

“Honestly? I don't know,” you confess. “There are too many issues with either choice. I think we need more time to gauge how people react to me just being here before we decide.” 

“My lady, I understand,” Advisor Yong says, “but as cautious as we have to be, we can't be too hesitant; you can’t possibly hope to bear children in a few months’ time if we can't come to a decision on something like this in a timely manner.”  

You and Zuko both jolt, instinctively backing away from one another.

“Children will come much later,” Zuko sputters, his cheeks turning the same shade as his robes. “Right now we have to focus on getting the people of our nations to agree with each other.” 

“And children are an important part of doing so,” Advisor Yong explains. “They’ll serve to physically embody the union of the two nations; the sooner you become pregnant, my lady, the quicker we may resolve the issue.” 

“I’m not going to bring a baby into this world just to be a political pawn,” you snap, a bit more harshly than you intend to. “That wouldn’t be fair and I couldn’t do that to my kid.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Zuko glance at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You want to reach for him but restrain yourself, feeling strange about showing him any sort of intimacy with an audience. 

“We need to decide what will be done about this portrait before we decide what will be done about heirs,” Iroh agrees. “We should give our lady more time to think on the matter. Could we spare another day?” 

Advisors Yong and Sung look to one another, Advisor Sung nodding his compliance. Advisor Yong also concedes, her tone almost apologetic when she speaks. 

“Another day will be just fine,” she says. “We’ll leave the final decision to you and your husband, my lady. Have Rina bring your instructions to the seamstress when you’re ready.” 

Your stomach flutters manically when you hear the words “your husband”. Advisor Yong has never referred to him as such, only ever calling him “the Firelord”; somehow, coming from her, the title feels much more significant than just the result of an arranged marriage. 

You flop down in the grass beside Zuko, burying your face in the sleeves of your robe. He chuckles, tossing another apple peel to the turtle ducks in the courtyard pond. 

“At least they’re being nice,” he consoles you. “Advisor Yong called me a coward in front of the whole council when I told her I wasn’t sure about getting married. She was right, but it’s hard getting your ass handed to you by someone who looks like a sweet little grandmother.” 

You sigh, rolling over onto your back and tilting your head to look up at him. He gives you a faint, assuring smile, which you can’t help but return. 

“I totally understand why you snapped when we were kids,” you tell him. “I’ve been here less than a month and I already want to go apeshit. Did you know that one of our advisors told me to take my betrothal necklace off the other day? The slimy little bastard waited until you left the room to do it, too! He told me it made me look less like a ‘naturalized Fire Nation woman’, and I told him that anyone who expected me to look like one was either stupid or delusional. And what, we need to have kids right way for the sake of political leverage? That’s horrible! What kind of monster brings a child into the world just to use them their whole life??” 

You draw back when you notice Zuko’s fallen expression. You’ve sat up by this point, and your near-screaming has scared the turtle ducks to the other side of the pond. You feel your heart drop into your gut, wishing you could take the words back. 

“Oh, Zuko,” you breathe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” 

Zuko shakes his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep, measured breath. You watch his chest rise and fall, his shoulders loosening as he exhales. When he opens his eyes again, he meets yours, the knot between his brows unraveling. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I know. My father was a monster. And my mother… she just did what she was told. I never realized how much she sacrificed for me until she was gone.” 

You inch closer to him, warily reaching for his hand. He takes it, lacing his fingers with yours and gently tugging you to sit beside him, reclining against the trunk of an ancient maple tree. He leans into you, clutching your hand tightly. 

“Sometimes I wish the worst thing he did to me was use me,” he laments. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have done such awful things to the people who loved me.” 

“Zuko,” you whisper, tightly squeezing his hand, “you’re not your father. Just the fact that you asked me to marry you proves that. You didn’t choose your family based on who would make you powerful. You chose me because you love my siblings, and they love you, and that’s exactly why I agreed to be with you. I never met your father, but I know for a fact that he never knew love like you do; he wouldn’t allow himself to because he thought it was weakness. But you’re so much stronger than he is, and could ever be, because Katara and Sokka, Aang and Toph, and Iroh - all of us are here with you. You allow yourself to show weakness in loving us, which is the bravest thing you could ever do. You are nothing like Ozai.” 

To your surprise, Zuko smirks at you; the corners of his eyes glimmer with the buds of tears, however, and the rest of his features don’t rise to match the expression on his lips. 

“No wonder Uncle likes you so much,” he says. “You sound just like him.” 

You scoff, punching him in the shoulder. He laughs, playfully tossing you over his lap and pinching the soft sides of your stomach, an area he discovered was sensitive by accident one day whilst he was walking you through the palace; you giggle hysterically, trying in vain to fend off the attack. He retreats after a little while, sighing as he cradles you in his arms - your head presses to his chest while his chin rests atop your head, hugging you tightly in a way he hasn’t done before. You wrap yourself around him, arms latching about his waist to hold him just as closely. 

“I won’t let them pressure us,” he assures you. “We’re family, and we have to take care of each other. That’s all I ever want to do for you.” 

You nestle into him, curling your body closer to his while your arms squeeze at his sides. He kisses the crest of your head, a rare display of affection he’s only done a handful of times - it makes you realize that even when you were teenagers, and Sokka started to make serious suggestions about keeping his promise of marrying you after Hakoda left you in his care, he never once made you feel as safe as Zuko does. 

“I hope I wasn't interrupting anything with my invitation,” Iroh greets you when you arrive at his chambers. 

Before your nightly pot of tea with Zuko, a messenger came to your quarters telling you that Iroh wished to see you; when you asked why, the messenger told you that the general wanted to teach you to play Pai Sho. You looked to Zuko quizzically, wondering what was so important about knowing how to play a board game that you needed to be summoned so late in the evening, and he sent you off, assuring you that, knowing Iroh, it was worth taking up the offer. 

“Just Zuko’s tea,” you tell him, “which, if it weren't for his company, I think I'd bail on every night.” 

Iroh chuckles, leading you inside and lowering you onto a cushion on one end of a large Pai Sho table; he takes the other seat, smiling good-naturedly at you. 

“Unfortunately, my nephew has never quite taken to the art of tea brewing,” he says, “no matter how many times I've tried to teach him; I take comfort in the fact that he's much better with a sword than I am, instead.” 

You grin, watching as the old man spreads a set of tiles across the game board. 

“Do you know of the significance of Pai Sho within the royal families of the Fire Nation?” he asks; you shake your head in response. 

“It is traditionally learned as a way of teaching our young leaders to rule with strategy,” he explains. “It is meant to teach a balance between inner passions and outward logic, as well as how to observe one’s peers; those who practice Pai Sho diligently know how to pinpoint an opponent’s weaknesses while understanding and controlling their own, keeping others from using their shortcomings against them.

“Each tile has a meaning,” he continues, “and represents a different positive or negative attribute. They may only move in certain ways, but can change their effect on the game based on how the player chooses to use them within each environment. For example…” 

Iroh goes on to explain each tile and its movements to you, walking you through each element of the game and practicing different tiles with you until you can actually place them in a somewhat skilled way. When you're comfortable, he plays a simple game with you, aiding you in which possibilities cause which consequences and pointing out ways you can better defend your side of the board. You play five games with him in total, never winning but trying as if you stood a chance against such a skilled player as him. 

When you lose the last game, Iroh removes the last tile you played and replaces it with the white lotus - you quirk your brow, wondering why that would be the better move. 

“I thought the white lotus was a weak tile,” you question him. “Why put it up against something as strong as the flame tile?” 

“There are no weak tiles in Pai Sho,” Iroh instructs you, “only ones that are often overlooked. Sometimes we must look at things from a different perspective, you see; manipulate the odds by doing something unorthodox and unexpected. If your opponent cannot anticipate your actions, they cannot overcome you.” 

Iroh removes the white lotus from the board, taking your hand within his and placing it in your open palm. He folds your fingers over it, closing your hand between both of his. 

“Keep this with you,” he says. “It may help you someday.” 

“But won't your board be incomplete?” you ask. 

Iroh chuckles, giving you a mischievous wink that makes you feel almost as if the man is in some way omniscient. 

“I have plenty of others,” he assures you. “It will do much more good in your hands.” 

The next day, you accompany Rina to the seamstress’s workshop, wanting to give her the instructions for your portrait dress yourself. When you tell her this, Rina is clearly confused - she gently attempts to explain to you that it isn’t necessary, that she’s supposed to handle these sorts of things for you, but once you reveal what you have in mind, she shifts completely. 

“The council is going to hate that,” she says. “I think it’s a great idea. I can take you to the seamstress, come with me.” 

When you relay your plans to the seamstress, she’s also shocked - her eyes widen, and she physically backs away from you as if even considering following your orders will get her executed for treason. 

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It isn’t what the Firelady would typically do…” 

“And I’m not a typical Firelady,” you reply, your tone bright and straightforward. “I’ve been asked to do what will create compromise, and this is the best compromise I can think of; I’m simply doing what I’m meant to.” 

The seamstress agrees, but only after you give her your vow that she won’t take any of the blame should the idea backfire (you're in charge, after all, so what can anyone do? She’s just following orders.)

In white fabric, she makes a set of robes for Zuko and a dress for you, each including elements crafted in Fire Nation and Water Tribe tradition. She then takes each set to its own vat of hot water, adding blue dye to one and red dye to the other - she places the pieces in, looking nervously up at you as you approach the twin cauldrons.

“I just want to make one last adjustment,” you tell her. 

Before she can respond, you take a bucket of blue dye and a bucket of red and tip each one into the opposite vat. The garments swirl as if caught in the midst of a tempestuous storm, the dye bleeding into the pristine fabric until it stains a shade of vivid, furious purple. 

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[februaryberries]

Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post

Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!

This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.

Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !! 

This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)

In no particular order:

If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”

Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one

Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help! 

Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk.  figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done. 

On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because

1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)

2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.

And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.

Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in  a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about ! 

Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year ! 

Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown) 

I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.

My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.

Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.

You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful. 

DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER

Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,

for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.

Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.

When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.

Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !

That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!

Have a good day :)

[impossible-rat-babies]

first 20 lines meme

i got tagged by @coldshrugs tysm azia! tagging: @trvelyans, @zarneki, @rosykims, @forestcreatures, @starrypawz, @heartbrreak, @bitchesofostwick, @juniper-tree, @wayhavn, @pearlsandsteel​, and whomever else go for it !

The challenge is to list the first lines of your 20 latest fanfics. these’ll include wips too lol there’s some vague nsft stuff below the cut--nothing truly explicit in these though

1. prompt fill wip:

Rubble digging into Pollux’s shoulder blades, a heavy dead weight across his back pressing down on him. He winces, gritting his teeth and there’s just shallow breaths, ribs pressing painfully into the ground.

2. pollux finding out fic:

Mason curses as he breaks yet another cigarette and he tosses it into the trash, yanking out the old worn packaging for another one. Hands shaking, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and it works this time.

3. more shoe string french fry biting fic:

Pollux fishes another fry out from the little package of shoe strings, chewing slowly before he speaks: “You remember when I bit you?”

Ortega groans, shoulders hunching and the hood of the car once again protests under their weight. “You’ve bitten me no less than three times, Lux.” He reminds him and Pollux chews another couple of fries and swallows.

4. bathtub fic:

Pollux sinks lower into the water and for the first time in a long while, it’s quiet.

The faucet still drips, ripples spreading out until they hit his knees and he too lets them sink beneath the water--distorted and unclear.

5. the five feet apart because they’re not (gay)

Five feet.

A foot between him and the desk, another two and a half feet of desk, and then Grayson a foot and a half away. Might as well be miles and Pollux sniffs (again) picking at his thumbnail (again).

Five minutes.

Five minutes they’ve been sitting in silence. Nick is quiet too, but there’s a buzzing of anxiety whirling and twisting on itself that Pollux isn’t sure if it’s his own or just Nick. Probably both, if he’s being honest with himself.

6. nightmare/dropping the cups fic:

it’s too late to still be awake, Ortega thinks. He should be in bed with Pollux, instead he’s picking his way around the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner neither of them bothered to deal with once they were done.

7. phone go brr fic:

it’s far too early when the distant sound of the factory standard phone chime beeps over and over again, drawing him out of sleep. The sun hasn’t even come up, Pollux squinting his eyes open to stare at the blue hour haze coming through the thin curtains.

8. pollux shaving his head panic attack rip:

4am and he’s stuck sitting on the lid of the toilet, hands shaking uncontrollably with what he knows is yet another panic attack, his upper back and diaphragm aching from the frantic breaths. It’s all muted under the sound of clippers, the buzz and the strain as he combs the blades through his curls, watching ringlet after ringlet fall to the white tiles. They’re cold beneath his bare toes and and oh god he can *feel* it—

Why do they have to be white tiles?

Cool air on the back of an open shift, shivering at the cold and indignity of it all, laying on his side and staring at the floor, large needle pressing against his lower back deeper, between vertebra and poking into his spine—

9. legit just some pwp

Pushed against the wall and Pollux gasps, Ortega’s lips immediately following to meet his again, open mouths and trying to breathe while kissing is incredibly difficult. Ortega pulls him closer and Pollux has to crane his neck to keep reaching his lips but he doesn’t mind the effort.

Pollux grasp his shirt, pulling on fancy buttons and silk to find skin, fingers running across his stomach, feeling Ortega’s breath catching.

10. don’t stop (color on the walls) 

It’s a clear night out tonight, the sky an endless dome stretching miles and miles overhead out into deep inky blackness bespectacled by freckled stars.

Pollux blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and it drifts up and up until it dissipates and he wonders if any particles of the smoke will reach that impossibly high ceiling. If they’ll touch moon perched on the roof, staring down at him with her grey blue light.

11. thigh kisses thigh kisses pollux kissing thighs (nsfw)

Hands on his belt buckle, sliding the belt through the loops and its tossed onto the floor. Pollux’s hands work at the button and zipper, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, knees trapping Ortega in close.

12. morning after stuff per usual lol

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee the same crackling as always.

13. more pwp bc. couches.

kissing a path down his erratically moving stomach and Pollux bites his trembling lip hard, head cocked at an awkward angle, shoulders pressed against the back cushion of the couch. Ortega’s hands gripping his hips, thumbs pressing into the divots of his hipbones and fuck he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how big Ortega’s hands are, how he holds him so tightly and so assuredly.

14. the twenty questions fic im never going to finish:

“Okay question one.”

“Question one?”

“Well yeah, this is how twenty questions goes.”

Incredulous and obnoxious is how this is going. And the chair is especially uncomfortable, the stupid molded plastic thing.

Charge has refused to meet in his office, saying it was too professional of an environment to get to know someone and Pollux wonders if there’s anything professional about the man. Well, beyond the very nice (and expensive no doubt) dress shirt and slacks, but even then the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

15. a follow up to our reflections 

Pain greets him when his eyes open and Pollux clenches his eyes shut once more, the screaming headache cut off suddenly at motions too fast for his battered brain and body. It quiets to a dull roar at the base of neck, spreading down across his shoulders with each breath.

He groans softly, but steady arms and hands find him, pulling him in close. Mason buries his face in his hair and Pollux tucks his face against his chest, hand smoothing out and across Mason’s ribs, feeling him breathe long and deep. Warmth seeping into his hand.

16. a wip i made happy without trying:

“Okay, okay now it’s your turn sweetheart. Worst fuck you’ve had.”

Pollux sighs and sits further back on Mason’s hips he’s straddled, crossing his arms and he fusses with a loose strand on his borrowed shirt. Pity that Mason is left shirtless, but he hasn’t complained yet.

“Okay fine...does it have to actually have been like, dick in...?”

“Nah.”

“Give me a minute then.”

“Wow that many?”

Pollux glances down and gives Mason a wicked glare, but the anger is tempered by the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Mason grins back, hands running down the slope of Pollux’s back and down the curve of his thigh, fingers tucking against the back of his knees pressed against the mattress. He shivers at the motions, giving Mason a brief glance. 

17. hotel california

A haze creeps around the edges of Rabbit’s mind, a steady rise back to consciousness; details escape them, the haze of drowsiness like cotton between their ears and they blink slowly in the dim yellow light. The gibberish hum of a tv turned down low on the edge of their hearing, but they know the sound of the news anywhere--the monotone of a newscaster droning

18. the “i refuse to believe adam doesn’t go down” fic + trans rights

Jamie pulls his head back when he hears Adam’s knees hit the floor, the air cool against his heated skin as he pulls his sweats down with him. Adam leans in, scattering Jamie’s hips with kisses and little marks he knows will leave behind marks. He’ll be covered in them by time they’re done and Jamie’s trembling, biting his lip and staring down at Adam.

19. another i dunno i just wanted a different perspective fic

ringing—ears ringing. sharp pain in his jaw and work out the kinks, make sure nothing is broken. Nothing is broken—he knows the pain of broken bones and this doesn’t feel like it. Nothing crunches as he moves his arms, the world rapidly spinning back into focus.

20. our reflections:

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

[sailorhyunjinz]

I think I may have spoke too soon about my sleep schedule as it's 4am now. sigh. at least I have gummy worms. on the bright side I finished all of my math hw for the week :)) maybe if I pace myself well I can finish ALL my homework by the end of the week? ALSO THANK YOU FOR SAYING YOU BELEIVED IN ME I WAS SCROLLING THROUGH TUMBLR A FEW HOURS AGO MID-MATH ASSIGNMENY AND IT RLLY HELPED I LOVE YOU SO MUCH <3<3<3<3

which reminds me btw, all that dumb stupid dumb not fun stuff you mentioned about school is dumb and stupid and dumb. you can do it though :)) cmon cherry you can so do this bro. you've got it so down man idk what to tell u, that dumb school shit has nothing on u.

I read this rlly cute fluff earlier and it put me in a very fluffy mood for the rest of the day, I was hoping that mood would lead to one of my fluffy cuddle dreams tonight but yk. 4am and gummy worms.

in regards to said dreams, yes felix is an avid visitor, and yes they get jealous. these dreams would be so relaxing if I got enough stable sleep for them to happen more smh.

speaking of, I'll be waking up in a little over an hour so imma try to catch a nap in whatever time I have rn, until next time my beloved, I leave you with these beautiful chan photos I found on Twitter < 3

4 AM??? BRO 4 FUCKING AM??

awh also please why are you so sweet?? aaaaa thank you so so so much, i'll keep your loving words in mind whenever im struggling <33

also look at little channie giving out,,, or maybe he's receiving the rose BUT LOOK AT HIIIM i miss blond chan so much like its superior <//3

my brain is completely empty when it comes to fluffy stuff I HAVENT BEEN LIKE WATCHING OR READING FLUFFY STUFF LATELY so i should probably add some more of that in my life lmao-

[crows-murder]

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them?

Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

If you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be?

Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

What is your most underrated fic?

What fic are you most proud of?

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?

What is the one fic that got away?

Have you cried while writing a fic?

If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future. (sorry for sending so many i really wanna know)

(no don’t worry it’s perfectly okay! i had fun answering all of them 😊)

1. what was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

ah. okay, so the first fandom i wrote and published for was Voltron, though i will never give away what the pairing was. i was 14 and it was on Wattpad, the rest is forbidden knowledge

2.do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? if so, what do you like about them?

i recently participated in a few events and challenges, and honestly, they were a lot of fun! i’d have to say that what i like about them is that i get to get out of my comfort zone and push my limits. 

3. do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

well. uh, no. 

sometimes i do write whole fics in one sitting,  but usually it takes me a day or two, and i have more than one WIP doc open because my brain needs to switch fics when it gets bored, so to speak. i just need to jump around to avoid losing interest in a story

4. do you outline before you start writing? if so, how far do you stray from that outline?

if it’s a multi-chapter fic, then yes. if i don’t have a clear ending or goal, then the story can and will drag on and on and on lol. sometimes i’ll stray from my outline, since it’s not really a strict set of directions for me to follow, more of something to guide me. very often, my story won’t exactly resemble my outline.

5. what is the perfect environment for you to write in?

late at night with a steaming cup of tea or coffee, or just an energy drink, wrapped in my fuzzy blanket with instrumental music playing. 

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

writing

/hj. idk i guess i’d have to say finding the right word when i forget it. or another super annoying thing is that sometimes i have the perfect word in french, and i need to find a good translation for it, but the english version of the word just doesn’t feel the same as the original. that’s very annoying lol.

10.  do you enjoy dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

dialogue. i tend to stray from the plot and i always struggle with exposition, but i absolutely love writing dialogue. 

11. if you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be?

angst. no questions. i need to hurt my characters because i love them.

12. is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

enemies to lovers. i don’t have any actual WIPs with that specific trope, but i do really want to write it one day lol.

13. is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

alpha/beta/omega. i fully support my writer friends who write it, but sadly i will never write it. it bothers me a little too much rip. i’d rather never write again than write it. 

16. what is your most underrated fic?

um. personally, i think that this fic from my urban fantasy AU was really not popular lol. i kinda see why, since its pure fluff and from an AU that is a personal indulgence lol

17. what fic are you most proud of?

okay this Jayroy fic from my bad things happen bingo is definitely one of the ones i’m very proud of. idk, i just like it? i can’t explain why i’m proud of it, but i am.

18. what is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

i decided to cheat a little and i’ll be using a line from a WIP instead. and the commentary’s gonna be written bc i can 

It was a mission report. Bruce had told him it was fine if he finished it tomorrow.

Tim could finish it tonight. (tim you absolute walnut SLEEP)

He was perfectly capable of doing what Bruce asked him. (not when you’re sleep deprived, idiot) He wasn’t Dick. he certainly wasn’t Jason. But he could still work diligently and without mistake. He could be better. (aw bby you dumb idiot child you dont need to be better)

Tim stared at the person standing in the hallway, eyes narrowed and mug in one hand. He knew for a fact that it took longer than twenty-seven hours of no sleep to start hallucinating. (I BANISH YOU TO SLEEP JAIL YOU UNRULY GREMLIN)

But that was the only reason Tim could fathom the Red Hood standing in the kitchen of Titans Tower at half-past three in the morning. (and that’s valid. i too would think i’d be hallucinating lmao)

Red Hood approached Tim slowly. “You have a lot of nerve wearing that uniform.” (jason please LET. THAT. GO.)

Tim glanced down at his rumpled gray shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. (i laughed writing this. i laughed a lot) 

He should be more alarmed that the Red Hood clearly knew he was Robin without the mask, but Tim was too tired and he was going to have to push that freak-out to the next day. (me doing homework at 4am like)

19. who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? why?

this time i’ll go with the type of characters. the easiest character for me to write is definitely the one character i relate to the most/ my comfort character because of course, i know them more than any other character and to some level understand their character. the hardest character to write is probably one i don’t really know or one who doesn’t have a lot of character development or there isn’t much info about them. i’ll still write them, but i’ll be making up a lot of stuff lol.

20. what’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?

hmm. i haven’t written many side characters, but i did love writing Dana Winters. she’s very cool and i like her a lot.

21. what is the one fic that got away?

it might just be me but im struggling a bit with what this could mean, so i’m going to assume it means that one fic that didn’t go where i expected it to (if that’s not what you meant, feel free to send me an ask correcting me lol)

so i’d have to say its the second part of this 2 chapter fic i wrote because a lot of people were asking for more cuddles in the first part. i was not expecting writing another fic specifically for fluff, but here we are.

22. have you cried while writing a fic?

definitely during that one major character death fic i wrote. i wrote the aftermath of the character’s death and i was crying while writing it lmao.

i was crying so much writing the ending for this

23. if you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

i wrote a sort of road trip birdflash au that i wouldn’t mind seeing as a remix

30. tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

i’m actually writing a longfic right now. i don’t even know where i got the idea from, but it’s basically a batfam no capes AU where they all practice magic instead and it’s set in 1927.

here’s the ask game! send me an ask! (or more than one, i don’t mind)