#// Was actually planning to post it in the past few days but couldn't find the reason to do so lmfao.

[candyredappledragon]

Pelliper mail: picture frames for the 3 Signboard photos Kiki and florian took :D

Oh hey that's sweet of you! Was planning to print out those pictures but I got busy.

Hmm I do have one silly little picture I took of with Kiki and I. I'll have to find it first since I have a lot of catmon pictures in my gallery.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[runnning-outof-time]

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[bratscave]

this blog got me feeling some typa way babesssss

dreaming about a young professor reader who thinks logan is constantly condescending to her when he asks about her lesson plans or curriculum… but he just doesn’t know how to start a conversation with her.

so when she has a bad day and snaps at him about his constant ‘patronizing’ he’s obviously very amused. because he’s honestly been looking for an excuse to chat with the hot, way too young for him piece of ass in a pencil skirt.

bonus points if he bends her over her desk and fucks her like a whore on it. and bonus bonus points if she thinks about it when she comes to her classroom the next day for class to find him leaning on it.

gotta feed the monsters in us i guess

ugh i need to write some logan smut to post already

I LOVE YOUR BLOG ITS SO- *animal noises*

- visionsofcarnality 🤭🫶

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — a lil' help !

The past few days have been hell, actual fucking hell. You had never imagined that the kids would be so... unnerving. It turned out that they cared a lot less about genetic mutation biology then you would've thought. All you needed was a cigarette and a calm, quiet office for god's sake — no interruptions, especially not logan. “Got your curriculum figured out for next week?” his voice, low and rough, cut through the silence as he leaned against your doorway. You stiffened, feeling that familiar sting of irritation. It was the fifth time this month he’d asked you something like that, and every time, it grated on your nerves. You knew you were younger than most of the faculty, barely in your mid-twenties, but did he have to rub it in with his constant questioning? As if you didn’t know what you were doing. “Yes, Logan,” you replied, barely masking the edge in your voice. “I have it under control.” You didn't like how your words had absolutly no affect on him, he didn't move, didn't budge, didn't back down. It was like he was waiting or searching for something, “You sure about that? You look like you could use some help.” “I don’t need your help, Logan. I don’t need you constantly questioning me about my lesson plans, my missions or my fucking curriculum. I’ve been doing this for years, and I don’t need some — some condescending jackass acting like I’m not capable.” His mouth parted in surprise yet his lips twitched in amusement, "Really? Is that what you think I’ve been doin’? Condescending to you?” You shake your head, looking through the papers for tommorow, you couldn't deal with this today, "Yes, that's what I think." Logan pushed himself of the door frame, his fingers instantly moving to your shoulders like he was trying to reassure you, "You're young. You're new and you're trying your best, but you're feeling a bit...overwhelmed." You took another puff, finally looking up to his face. "I appreciate," the tone you use sounds almost sarcastic, "your concern but I'm getting by just fine." Yet you feel his finger absentmindedly trace over the skin of your neck as you lean back ever so slightly, almost on auto pilot. “Logan,” you said, trying to inject some authority into your voice whilst putting out the cig in a close ash tray but it came out breathier than you intended- His proximity was doing things to you, things you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone act on. But Logan, perceptive as always, didn’t miss a beat. He didn't decide to comment on the little faltter in your voice, just brushes one of your hair strands behind your ear, the action feels intimate, a bit to much so. His hands work on gently pushing you down onto the desk, your face pressed against the cold surface, his rough fingers work on riding up your skirt. If you're not mistaken you can hear the fabric of your panties ripping as you scoff, "Y'know you could've just taken them off." It sounds more like a statement then a question, not that you'd really be intrested in one when all you could think bout was his dick. "That's no fun," you could faintly make out, the dull sound of his belt hitting the floor also, "You don't even understand how much i've been imagining you, like this — you, and your damn skirts." Your hands clench into fists on the desk, your knuckles turning white as you try to keep some semblance of control as he thrusts into you. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you, his breath hot against your ear. “This what you needed, darlin’?” he growls, his voice rough and strained with his own pleasure. “Needed someone to fuck that stress right outta you?” He’s fucking you like an animal, hard and fast, and it’s exactly what you needed. The desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, with this pace you could perfectly forget about all those kids that make you lose more and more brain on the daily. That's exactly what you think about when you see logan leaning against your desk the next day, all innoccently yet gazing u you like he was about to eat you alive, in front of countless of children.

You could certaintly use his help every now and then — not on the curriculum of course.

[kaleldobrev]

Aren't You a Little Young? (4) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension, Asshole Cop & Sassy!Reader

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | A little bit of a shorter part | As always, thoughts are in italics and the "POV's" switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 3

The first night (well, night was a strong word, as when the pair of you ended up finally going to bed, it was close to sunrise) sharing a bed with the older Winchester brother wasn't as awkward as you expected it to be, but the entire time you were afraid to move a muscle, as you didn't want to accidentally roll over and spoon him. But you couldn't help but wonder what he would have done if you did that. What kind of excuse would you have come up with? Would he have believed you?

You kept your back toward him, and from your peripheral, you noticed that he also kept his back toward you. You wondered if he usually slept on his side, or just stuck to that way of sleep in order to give you as much sleeping space as possible.

When you woke, it was almost 9 in the morning; a lot later than when you usually woke when on a case, but you figured you must of needed the sleep because you got four hours instead of your usual two.

You reached out your hand at the empty spot next to you, and it was still slightly warm. You felt a slight sadness, hoping that Dean hadn't left you alone in the motel room. You hoped that he would have waited for you to get up before doing anything. Then again, you didn't completely know how the man operated.

The sound of shower going on made your heart skip a beat, and you felt weirdly giddy knowing that Dean hadn't left you alone in the motel. But as you heard the shower running, you could hear something else coming from the bathroom. Is he...humming? You questioned, and then you smiled, thinking how adorable it was that someone like Dean sung or hummed in the shower.

Rolling onto your back, you looked up at the ceiling for a moment, smiling at the situation. For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace; you were happy. But that happiness and smile quickly faded when reality started to sink in. Dean was not your boyfriend, and he was never going to be. Once this case was done and over with, you'd have to go back to your apartment to your actual boyfriend. A boyfriend who you were planning on breaking up with the moment you stepped past the threshold.

Dean was barely able to get any sleep because of you. Not because you were tossing and turning, but because of how close you were to him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. You were barely a foot away from him, and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch you; bringing you close to his chest and feel your skin against his. He wanted more than anything to just stroke your cheek and give you a forehead kiss. Maybe when the case was done and over with, he could somehow find an excuse to hug you at least.

He needed to stop with the fantasies of you and him together. It was never going to happen. You were never going to actively choose to be with him, or someone like him. Maybe if he wasn't a hunter, then maybe he would of had a chance with you. Then again, if he wasn't a hunter, maybe he would have never met you in the first place. That's when he started debating with himself about whether or not meeting you was the best thing to happen to him in a while or the worst thing to happen to him in a while.

Dean sighed, shutting off the water as he prepared himself to face you this morning. He was lucky when he woke up, because you were still sound asleep next to him. You were completely curled up, and you looked so peaceful.

The ride to the police station was quick, yet painful, as he was in another confined space with you. Your perfume or whatever you wore that smelt citrusy and woodsy at the same time kept hitting his nose throughout the drive. At one point, he held his breath so he couldn't smell you, because you smelt absolutely intoxicating to him. The urge to pull over and kiss you kept hitting him.

But that was not the only part of the drive that was torture for him. During the drive, you sang along to whatever music he had playing: Zeppelin, AC/DC, Johnny Cash, you name it. You knew every single word to every single song that he played. Did Sam put you up to this somehow to make him feel better after months and months of being a demon? He shook that thought quickly out of his head, as you being a siren made the most sense to him. Then again, Sam did like to fuck with him sometimes...

Out of nowhere, you turned to him, a soft smile on your lips. "So, I was thinking, after we go talk to some of the cops and hopefully get some files at the station, we go back to that diner and actually have a sit down meal together?" You asked. The question you asked him was so innocent, but yet, he sensed a slight romantic intention behind it. Were you flirting with him? No, you couldn't have. You were dating someone and you were 15 years younger than him; there was no chance that you were. But in order to survive, he needed to say no, as much as he wanted to say yes.

"Sure," he said, and mentally cursed at himself.

"Awesome," you said, keeping that same soft smile on your lips. You turned back to the window and looked out, resting your chin on your hand as you continued to quietly hum to Deep Purple.

"Hi, I'm Special Agent Shaw, and this is my partner Special Agent Hanniger. We're here in regard to the three murder victims you've had in the last month," you stated, both you and Dean flashing your respective badges.

The officer looked at you and Dean a few times, before a confused look formed on his face. "Aren't you a little young looking to be a federal agent ma'am? You look to be jailbait to me," he said, half chuckling to himself.

All you wanted to do was roll your eyes at this jailbait comment, and reprimand him to making such a comment, but you had to keep your composure. Unfortunately, this was not the first time you had heard such a comment, and it probably wouldn't be your last.

Out of your peripheral, you noticed that Dean was about to speak, but you quickly started talking, as you felt defending yourself would sound better coming from you, than him. "Why thank you Officer. I really appreciate that comment, because I can tell that my skin care routine is really doing wonders. But, just so you're aware, the minimum age to be a Special Agent is 23, and since I first applied when I was 23, and have been a Special Agent for the past five years, I am not what you call jailbait by any means. You can even ask my partner here, as he's been my partner all five of these years."

You flashed the officer a smile, the kind of smile you gave people to let them know that you were not going to be dealing with their bullshit. Silence fell between the three of you, and out of your peripheral, you could see Dean smirking, like he was impressed by you. "Whenever you're ready, we'd like to see those case files," you said.

"Um, right, right. Uh, this way Miss...I mean, Agent. Agent," the officer said, stumbling over his words, embarrassed by the confrontation that he probably wasn't expecting from someone like you.

Dean couldn't help but experience such an intense amount of joy in the way you spoke to the officer; as he couldn't have been more proud. There was a part of him that wanted to give you a pat on the back or give a thumbs up, followed by a 'that's my girl,' but he knew he couldn't do that. You weren't his girl; you weren't his anything.

“This is Special Agents Shaw and Hanniger,” the officer said, introducing you and Dean to the coroner. The officer looked at the two of you again. “Jones here can answer any questions you have,” he said, directing his comment to you and smiling.

“Thank you,” you said nodding, as the officer headed back up the stairs, leaving you, Dean, and the coroner alone in the basement.

“Special Agents?” Jones questioned, placing his pen down on his desk. “Why does the FBI have an interest in these cases? They’re pretty cut and dry.”

“If they’re so cut and dry, why haven’t you released a cause of death yet to the public?” You questioned.

The coroner sighed. “We’re trying not to worry the public by releasing the causes,” he explained. But you weren’t taking that as an answer, as you felt that there was a deeper reasoning behind it.

“Meaning?” Dean asked, joining the conversation.

“I’m assuming the both of you read my reports,” Jones said, eyeing the two of you. You did, but you weren’t sure if Dean had the chance to glance at them at all before he switched places with Sammy.

“Yes, but your files didn’t have a whole lot of detail to them,” you stated.

“Not much I can write when the cause of death is something that’s completely unnatural for the body to do,” Jones said. “How do you explain to three separate families, that their loved ones had all of their blood drained from their bodies with no forced entry, no signs of a struggle, and no markings to indicate where the blood was drained from? If you know, I’d love to hear it.”

“Can we see the bodies?” You asked, and the coroner shook his head. “No?”

“They’ve already been cremated,” he said, almost sounding disappointed.

“Already? It’s an open serial murder investigation and the last murder happened not even three days ago.” You found it strange that there was not even one body that you and Dean could examine for yourselves.

“Although we have no leads, we wanted to give the families closure,” Jones explained. “Or do you not believe in closure Agent Shaw?”

“I do. But I’m not sure how you expect us to help you, when we don’t even have a single body to look at to see if you missed anything.” You were starting to become frustrated, annoyed at the coroner, even though you knew he was just trying to do his job — even if it was a lousy one.

You took a deep breath, and Dean took that as his cue to continue the conversation. “Can you give us copies of the autopsies you performed?”

“Yes, I can make copies for you,” Jones said, getting up from his desk. “The witness statements as well?”

“We’ll take anything that’ll be useful in finding a possible lead,” Dean said, and Jones nodded, leaving the room so he could retrieve copies of the reports.

Once the coroner left, you turned to Dean, slightly sighing. “I could really go for a beer right about now. How about you?”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 5

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[oceantornadoo]

hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.

im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!

bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)

you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.

that explains a lot.

and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)

"evenin', duckie."

"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."

john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.

"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.

"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.

"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...

"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."

"anythin' for you, duckie."

list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner

shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.

"all ok, john?"

"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.

"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.

"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.

"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."

"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.

"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.

30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?

john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.

that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.

john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.

"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.

you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.

"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.

"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."

--

ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.

[shini--chan]

May I request 2p allies making their s/o mute as a punishment for trying to run for help.

⚫〰️⚫ Thank you

Alright, as the ask indicates, it is not a never family friendly post that awaits you up ahead. Excluding 2p Canada this time, since I had difficulty coming up with another form of mutness other than those described via the other characters.

This came out later than planned due to time management issues on behalf of the author. Nevertheless, enjoy!

Trigger warnings: body horror, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mutilation, misuse of medical procedures, drugging, malnutrition, dark magic

Yandere 2p! Allies - Silence is Gold

America

Allen would loathe to admit it, but he had come to like you when you were quiet. Aside from that, you looked so cute with your neck bandaged up. And those glares and petulant expressions you made! Oh, if he had known how agreeable you’d become after losing your voice, he would have done this far sooner. 

That being said, it had been an accident - he hadn’t wanted to punch you in the throat, but you just had to jump in the way, when he was busy teaching that bastard a lesson. Therefore, he had had no choice but to cut open your throat to ensure you could continue breathing. 

When you leaned down to take his plate, you purposely bumped his shoulder. Yes, you were still very upset with him about what had happened. However, the feeling was mutual. He slapped your arse when you straightened up again. 

It caused you to perform a little jump and then glare at him. 

“If I had known that you’d look so sexy with something around your neck, I would have bought you a set of chokers long ago, dollface. Don’t worry though - you look good with the bloodstained gauze as well”, he slyly complimented you. Oh, how it infuriated you. 

You had tried to talk a few times these past days, causing the wound on your neck to reopen and weep plasma and blood everytime you did. As it was, you were lucky that you had gotten antibiotics, or else Allen would have been far stricter with you. 

Petty as you could be, turned your back on him and flipped the bird as you marched back to the kitchen. At this, Allen could prevent himself from laughing. 

Allen actually wouldn’t want to rob you of your voice, since half the fun in having you is that you talk back. However, he would discover the benefits of muting you after he would have to do it in some shape of form. Once doing so, he would find this experience refreshing and seek to replicate it multiple times in the future. Here, you would really be in danger of losing your voice permanently if you aren’t able to curb his … preferences. 

The problem here is that he would find your muteness and the injuries connected to it to be unbelievably arousing. In ways, your life would biome harder than it already is thanks to that.

China

Could you really be blamed for panicking in a situation such as this? The rush of hysteria made the binds tying you down to the table seem even tighter than they were, and you felt like you were suffocating, no matter how fast you breathed. The air was too hot and your clothes too scratchy, with the latter made all the worse by the fact that you were coated in grim and your own dried sweat.

To your left, you heard Zao approach you. Since your head was fastened to the table, you only could see him once he appeared in your periphery. There was a horrid grin on his face, that stood in complete juxtaposition to what he said.

"My heart, this is really something I don't want to do, but you leave me with no choice."

You wanted to retort, but thought better of it just in the nick of time. He had a brown glass bottle at hand, and you didn't like all the warning labels on it, nor how close it was to your mouth. 

"But give in and swallow, I promise to help you with your recovery if you comply", he told you in a sickly sweet tone as if he was talking to a child. As much as you wanted to shake your head, you couldn't. By now, you were trembling. 

Two fingers pinched your nose firmly. After a few seconds, you started to become lightheaded and you heard and felt your blood pounding. Opening your mouth wouldn't be an option, since the bottle would immediately be emptied into your mouth if you did that. So instead, you opened the corner of your mouth and tried to breathe as discreetly as possible. 

To no avail. The fingers that were on your nose went for your mouth and pried your lips apart. As valiantly as you struggled, the bottle still went in. The fluid caused your throat to burn, and when you accidentally breathed some of it, you let out a hapless scream of pain. 

His method of muting you would be more permanent - rendering your vocal cords and throat useless by forcing you to drink acid or poison. This would either be the response to a multitude of transgressions, or him being particularly ticked off by an escape.

A side effect of this would be that you would be unable to swallow food or drink. But he would be there to help you, either by feeding you through a tube, an IV or by supplying you through your back door (i.e your rectum). This would serve as an extension of the original punishment. Additionally, you would be helpless and reliant on him. 

England

When you finally woke up, you felt groggy and heavy, each of your limbs made of lead and your mouth full of cotton. Sleep drunk, you opened your eyes and eased yourself to a more upright position. 

Not that it was more comfortable - there were kinks and knots in your back that only a professional massage could relieve you from. Why the hell had you fallen asleep here of all places? You were seated in an old dentist car, the once royal red faded. The contraption creaked ominously whenever you moved.

This was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. The twilight of the room you were in didn't help.

Your mouth felt dry and slightly numb, and your lips subsequently cracked. You parted your lips and wanted to run your tongue over the dried skin only to discover that you didn't have a tongue anymore. 

Cold shock made you bolt upright and all at once, the world shifted into sharp clarity. Once again, you tried to stretch your tongue out only for nothing to move, not a stump. That was when you started to panic.

Lungs heaved as you tried to explain the situation to yourself. There was absolutely no pain, you weren't feeling weak. The taste of blood was absent, and the bitter sting of iodine or saline solution wasn't present either. 

In your panic, you opened your mouth and stuck your fingers inside to feel for your tongue. It had been completely removed down to the root. There wasn't even puckered skin where the muscle would have begun. Tears started to leak from your eyes and you tried to force a few miserable sounds out of your mouth. 

"Now, now don't engage in self-pity. You did bring this on yourself, my rose bud."

The blood in your veins turned to ice, and you halted your frantic movement. Despite the dim lighting of the underground room, you could clearly see Oliver Kirkland. He was seated on a red satin loveseat, and in the jar he had balanced on his knee was your tongue. 

Oliver would use magic to completely remove your tongue from your mouth, aiming to insite as much panic in you as possible. As such, you'll only find out what he has done after completion of the procedure. 

Instead of helping you to deal with the situation, he would mock you relentlessly. Furthermore, he would place the blame on you - it was you that ran away, it was you that forced his hand; everything that went wrong is your fault. The jar with your tongue in it would be placed in a spot that you'd have a hard time overlooking. A taunt, and a reminder that the amputation is only temporary. You just have to play being a good spouse for long enough and then he'd give you your tongue back. 

France

Putrid pus stained the sheets as he pulled them away. Yesterday the colour had been yellow, but now it had a slight green tint to it. Francois brushed his fringes out of his face and tied his hair back to a sloppy ponytail. 

With a soft sigh, and placed the bandages and tincture bottles on the bed next to you and tilted your head towards him. Sickness and the corresponding fever made your sleep deep, unlike it usually was. You didn't even stir when he lifted your head onto his lap. 

At this point, it was up for debate what was sealing your lips more - the rough stitches or the infection. The swelling had distorted your mouth, so much so that it was beginning to block your nose and hinder your breathing. 

Cursing softly under his breath, he set out to drain the pus from the needle wounds. He shouldn't have used the expired saline solution, yet you had given him no choice. You had been so busy thrashing and screaming around when he had sown your mouth shut. 

Francois still didn't understand why you had put up such a fuss. The punishment was deserved and it made your resistance all the more pathetic. Seriously, had you really thought he would take you escaping lightly? How could you delude yourself into thinking he wouldn't take all those vile words that you had uttered upon being brought home to heart?

The pus drenched bandages were thrown into the bin, and he proceeded to down the injured tissue with iodine. You groaned in your sleep, and tried to open your mouth. A noticeable tremor ran down your body, and you stopped straining against the stitches. 

Perhaps it was better that you were lost in a haze. It gave your captor more time to think and calm down. 

Francois would elect to make your muteness temporary, but with some caveats. You'd wear scars around your mouth for the rest of your life and the mental and physical trauma would haunt you for years to come. Such a situation would have a high potential of arising if you poured your heart out to somebody else and incited them to help you escape. 

Russia

This was getting more tiring by the hour. Slowly, you were asking yourself if this really was a punishment, or if it was one of Victor's loathsome social experiments.  loathsome social experiments. They both tended to be alike, so it was hard to tell on a normal day. 

“If you keep glaring at me like that, your face will distort to a permanent frown”, the man in question remarked. The knife repeatedly scraped over the wood in his hand, causing shavings to fly with every stroke of the blade. He didn’t even look up from his whittling when he said that. How rude. 

Feeling petulant, you knicked a stone in the river. It was a nice day to be outdoors - the spring air was filled with the sweet smell of flowers, and the sun was shining through the birch tree. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy, not when he had brought you to the spot where he had captured you a mere week ago, picnic basket at hand. 

You had difficulty swallowing every other bite, and also keeping it down. Now that bastard even insisted on staying a bit longer to enjoy the alleged peace and quiet that the forest offered. 

With how frustrated you were, you opened your mouth in order to say something, only to receive a smack to the face with the flat side of the knife the second you opened your mouth. In shock, you quickly closed your mouth again and looked at him aghast. 

This time, he was even meeting your eyes. 

“You know the agreement, so don’t break it by talking now.”

Mutness wouldn’t even be the intended punishment at first - it would be offered as a second, milder option to a harsher punishment. Victor would have a habit of giving you an option of choosing between two or more punishments. It would be to give you an illusion of power over your own fate and an opportunity to assuage your character. Mind you, he would never give you the full details of the punishments that you can choose from. 

In this case, he would enforce a “voluntary silence” upon you. You would have to refrain from speaking for a certain time interval, or else suffer a harsher punishment. This is one of his games with you, that would be designed to mould your personality to his liking. Also, this would be a form of discipline training for you. 

[highvern]

Teach Me IV

extra credit

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , phone sex, exchange of nudes, both are down horrendous, mutual masturbation, making out, dry humping, idiots in like, dokyeom has a praise kink and isn't ashamed, snippets of disgusting fluff

Length: ~5.1k

Note: ugh ... anyways! i know i mentioned potential angst in an ask but i'm weak

read more here

The best part of starting Fall Break on a Friday is having to do absolutely nothing for five blissful days. But because he is easily swindled by his friends, Dokyeom is ass over tits and the clock hasn’t even chimed 8PM. After the incredibly awkward week following your latest tryst, he’s thankful for the mind numbing freedom of alcohol, weed, and nothing but miles of mountain and woods.

Or he would be if wasn’t still upset you turned down his invitation to join him this weekend.

So he sneaks into his room and pulls up your Instagram. You're at the top of his results when he clicks into the search bar.

You posted a new photo this afternoon. A memory of a girls night out, sandwiched between two of your friends outside some bar, nothing but wide drunk smiles and closed eyes under the flash of the camera. Dokyeom already saw it. Already liked it. 

He keeps scrolling, down down down till he reaches his favorite picture. A frozen memory of you outside some cafe, slumped in an iron wrought chair, sunglasses obscuring half of your face; your mouth is spread over a wild guffaw, teeth flashing and the corner of your lips arched high in amusement. Whatever had amused you pulled your entire body in, shoulders curved up as your chest caves, chin tipped back. 

The soft pink sundress hugging you snugly is an added bonus. 

And somewhere in his muddled mind, Dokyeom decides he needs to talk to you. Right. Now.

After the third ring, the call connects.

“Heyyy, pretty lady.”

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” You laugh, and Dokyeom can imagine the same expression from the photo flashing across your face. 

God, she even sounds pretty. He thinks.

He whines through the goofy smile plucking the corners of his lips, “Nooooo.”

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Only a little?” You jest.

“Maybe a lot-tle.”

“I can tell.”

“Wish you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen you in like a week.”

If he wasn’t wasted then he might feel embarrassed, but Dokyeom finds the words slipping past him without a second thought as he rocks back and forth, caught in waves of emotion.

“How’s the cabin been so far?” 

The sudden change in topic scratches unpleasantly but he lets it go.

“Would be more fun if you were here.” He confesses. “What are you up to?”

“Laying in bed, watching Love Island.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“What?” 

“You’re so lame, Kyeom.”

“I’m curious about what you do when you’re alone.” He tries to sound innocent. “You’re alone, right?”

“Yeah, Ava left for the weekend.”

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

He’s fishing for the real reason you told him you couldn't come with him to the cabin. You’d been purposefully vague the few times Dokyeom probed since last Thursday, claiming any excuse under the sun: a friend coming to visit, getting ahead on assignments, pulling a few extra shifts at the library. Anything to avoid flat out rejection.

“You know, this and that. What about you guys? Any big plans?”

“Some of the guys mentioned a hike tomorrow. And Beer-lympics Sunday.”

“God, you’re such a frat bro.”

“I can do better.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. What are you wearing?” He tries again.

He hears you huff, “Pajamas.”

“Sexy.”

“I actually think this is your shirt.”

“Oh? Send me a pic.”

“What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Are you hard?”

“I can be.”

“I’ll send you a picture if you send me one too.”

“Fuck, okay.” He agrees, tapping open his camera app and trying out a few angles, working himself up in the process.

Dokyeom settles for cupping the bulge over his pants, outline of his cock pronounced as he lightly squeezes. He’s highly aware of your obsession with his hands, so he tries to flex his arm forcing the web of veins to rise as the muscles clench.

“I’m waiting.” You goad on the other end of the phone, knocking him out of his concentration.

The five photos he’s snapped all look about the same. Settling on the least blurry one, he quickly opens your messages and sends it before changing his mind.

A sharp inhale announces its arrival on your phone. 

“Your turn.” 

He can hear the rustle of clothes and blankets through the speaker, and a whispered curse following a dull thud. Dokyeom can’t help the chuckle that escapes as he pictures whatever caused it.

The photo you send back takes him a second to decipher. You're definitely wearing his shirt, the bottom hem bunched across your breasts, the swells of flesh peaking out near the top of the picture; perfectly omitting your face. Tracing down your bare stomach, your hips are wrapped in powdery blue cotton panties. And if that wasn’t enough, one hand is stuffed underneath, pulling the elastic taunt across the crease in your hip as it stretches to accommodate your fingers.

Holy shit.

“You like it?”

“You're evil.” Head rolling back, Dokyeom groans as he takes it all in. “You want me dead.” 

You giggle at his tone.

“Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to study your figure. “You’re so hot.”

“Kyeomie,” you whine, obviously embarrassed under his attention.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” you mewl.

“Dirty girl.”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

The back and forth of your relationship is the funnest part, in Dokyeom’s opinion. You like when he puts you in your place as much as he enjoys you putting him in his. It helps that even when he assumes the more dominant role, you still praise him as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It scratches that submissive part of his brain that always wants needs to be good. Especially for you.

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Phone sex is unfamiliar territory. He isn’t sure how much is too much and the awkward parting last week still stains his brain. But you just sent him a photo with your hands down your underwear so Dokyeom tries to go with the flow.

“Could make you cry on my cock.” He flushes when you remain silent for a second too long . “Sorry, that felt awkward.”

“No!” You object, voice crackling through the speaker at the sharp increase in volume. “It, ugh, that’s hot.”

“What? Crying from my dick?”

“You don’t think so?”

Dokyeom’s cock twitches, as if to signal its eager agreement.

“I think anything involving you near my penis is hot so I’m not really a good judge.”

“Well, just imagine it. Remember that time we fucked at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s house party?”

“Not appreciating you saying other dudes’ names while my dick is in my hand but yeah.”

You snicker at his reprimand. “Anyway. Remember how I wanted you to fuck my mouth?”

Dokyeom takes a sharp inhale as the memory rushes forward. You on your knees, eyes glossy and lips bruised, begging him to stretch your throat. The second the request reached his ears Dokyeom nearly came on your sweater covered chest, but he’d ignored your request, hauling your ass up onto the counter in favor of stuffing your cunt. You hadn’t complained.

“But you wouldn’t because you didn’t wanna mess up my makeup?”

“You looked pretty… didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“Yeah but I wanted you to.”

Another squeeze of his cock as he slips his hand under his boxers, “Yeah?”

“You’re really hot when you tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” He groans, vocabulary limited by the husky timbre of your voice. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Mhhmm, doesn't feel as good as when you do it though.”

A pathetic thrust through his fist at the praise. “I know but I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“How?”

“Might tie you up. Fuck you till your screamming.” Dokyeom doesn’t know who he’s become but you seem to like it.

“Oh?”

Your reply is all breath, the same way you sign when he gives you his fingers after a long study session. The beads of pre-cum on his tip increase as he works his cock, almost able to fill the way you’d coat his fingers if he was there to give them to you.

“You like that? Want me to use your tight little pussy? Fill it up?”

“Want you to come inside me again, Minnie. So hot.”

“I know, pretty girl. So desperate for it aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” you squeak, “Are you close?”

“Send me another picture.”

Only a few seconds pass, filled with muffled groans on his end and the clack of your nails on yours. Dokyeom rushes to open the new attachment you’ve blessed him with, heart clenching when his stomach caves around a moan.

The photo is blurry from your haste but he doesn’t care. You're drenched. The crotch of your panties tinged darker as you pull them aside, flashing the way your entrance stretches around three of your fingers. Your clit just barely visible, puffy and swollen from neglect.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Minnie—” Your voice sounds far away, and he realizes you've put yourself on speaker so you can use both hands.

“Can you do something for me?” he grounds, squeezing the base of his cock to stop his impending end.

“Anything.”

Another deep breath before he lays himself bare, “Drive up here tomorrow.”

“What?” You ask, the springs of your mattress squeaking as you sit up, clearly confused by the switch in pace.

“I wanna see you.”

“I—”

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Dokyeom scrambles.

Another pause before a timid, “How?”

“Whatever you want.” 

“Dangerous words.”

“Pretty sure I’ll enjoy it just as much as you.”

“I don’t know…”

“If you don’t want to, it's fine but,” he sighs, “if you can I want you to come. And not just because of sex.”

“Then why?” 

“Because I like—” He cuts himself off hastily. “Because I like spending time with you.”

As seconds tick by without response, Dokyeom is sure you're going to call his bluff. Or worse, laugh in his face. He’s sweating, heart beating irregularly as he waits for your reply.

“Really?” Shyness creeps into your voice.

Dokyeom nods before realizing you can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asks, eyes wide and jaw slack. No way it's this easy.

“Really,” he can hear you smile. “But only because you said you’d give me whatever I want.”

“You’re gonna make me regret that aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” You tease, enunciating each syllable as his heart beats in time. “But Kyeomie…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still wet.”

“Can’t have that.” He tsks.

“Please,”

“Be a good girl and play with your clit.” Dokyeom instructs, slipping right back in.

A hitch in your breath precludes a satisfied “hmmm”. He wishes he could taste both on his tongue. 

“Touch yourself too.” You plea.

Dokyeom’s wound so tight a gust of wind would have his load all over his stomach. He tells you as much.

“Shiiit” You curse, catching up to him. “Close.”

“Yeah? Think you deserve it?”

If he was there, Dokyeom knows he’d see the frustrated kick of your legs and feel the daggers shooting from your eyes.

“You ignored me all last week, I don’t know if I should let you.”

“Dokyeom, please!”

“But since I get to see you tomorrow.” he tuts, covering up the catch of his breath as you plea again. “Let me hear it.”

The call devolves into choked curses and groans. He keeps the screen close to his face as he focuses back on the picture you sent, painting his fist with streaks of white as you beg him to cum, choke on how much you want to taste. Your stuttered “ah”s floating right into his ears as you twist and shake in your bed hours away.

When Dokyeom can feel himself returning to his body, he soaks in the lull of you catching your breath.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Send me the address.”

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re coming…”

“Goodnight,” you chuckle at the double entendre.

“Night.”

Even with the satisfaction of an orgasm coursing through his veins, the fizzing bubbles of happiness in his chest have nothing to do with the cum cooling in his underwear.

--

The drive to the cabin is two hours and thirty seven nerve wrecking minutes. Dokyeom has been up since six, texting you the address, asking you to let him know when you left, keep him updated on any pit stops you needed to make. Not to rush up the mountain and drive safely. 

The digital clock on your dash reads just past noon as you slowly creep up a narrow gravel road, praying another car doesn’t swoop around the bend. Of course a pack of frat boys would choose some creepy woods to set up camp for a long weekend. 

You dial Dokyeom’s number just to be safe. Barely a full ring passes before he picks it up.

“Hey!”

“Hey… I think I’m pulling up to the right place?” You scan for any sign of a driveway on either side of the road without any luck. 

“Oh shit, I’ll come outside. Jun got us lost yesterday when he drove up so it’s tricky.”

Taking a left as you finally spot the red mailbox with a beaver carved into the dark wooden post at the end of the lengthy driveway, a two story cabin comes into view between the trees. Dokyeom jogs from the porch to meet you at the edge of the yard. Rolling down your window as he makes his way over, you greet him.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” he smiles, bright enough to blind a village.

“Um, where should I park?” 

“Just pull up behind anyone, it doesn't matter.”

“Alright.” 

Dokyeom walks next to you as you pull in behind a white sedan. Once in park, you pop the trunk before slipping out the door. He already has your bag tossed over his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his as he pulls you towards the house.

“Some of the guys went on a hike earlier so I’ve been helping Seungkwan and Mingyu clean up.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to wait for me.”

“I wanted to.”

Before you can think too much on that statement, Seungkwan interrupts by tackling you in a hug. 

“Oh thank god you’re here.” 

“Hi to you too.” You say, carrying his weight as he goes boneless.

“Hi,” he responds with a squeeze, before turning to Dokyeom with a blunt, “Goodbye.” 

Seungkwan pulls you inside the front door, beelining for the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch.

“Hey!”

Without slowing, Seungkwan fends him off. “She was my friend first!”

“Yeah well,” Dokyeom flounders like a washed up fish.

“You dazzle with words. Now go away.” Seungkwan sniffs.

Sending an apologetic smile over your shoulder, you allow Seungkwan to usher you along. You spot another person in the kitchen, face shadowed by the hood of his sweater. He doesn’t look up when you and Seungkwan shuffle pass.

“Ignore Mingyu, his girlfriend broke up with him yesterday.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, anyway.” Seungkwan plops onto one of the chairs circled around the patio table. “Speaking of girlfriends—”

“Did you finally get one?”

“Being mean is bad for your health.” He deadpans. “As I was saying, did Dokyeom ask you to be his?”

“His what?”

“His girlfriend.”

Your ears ring at the nonchalance in Seungkwan’s tone.

“Why would he ask me to be his girlfriend?”

“Why else would you get up at the ass crack of dawn to come to this dump?”

“He said he wanted me to come.” You answer, turning your head to observe the lake beyond the thin tree line.

“After you told him no? Wow, didn’t realize he was that good in bed.”

Your hands itch to circle his neck and shake but Seungkwan is saved by the very man in question.

“Hate to interrupt but I thought you might want some coffee?”

You turn around, smiling as Dokyeom leans out of the sliding glass door, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“We aren’t done talking!” Seungkwan calls as you reach the door.

“I am!”

Mingyu apparently retreated to his room after you stepped outside, nowhere to be found in the kitchen or living room beyond the counter.

The isolation makes you nervous which is strange because it’s just Dokyeom. But his words last night over the phone, coupled with Seungkwan’s on the porch twist your guts uncomfortably. 

It’s too late to bail. You can’t claim illness since Dokyeom will fawn over you like some mother hen. Besides, you don’t actually want to leave. You just can’t stand the nagging voice in the back of your head insisting this isn’t what friends do. Even if said friends are having sex. 

“Wanna show me your room?” 

“Sure!” Dokyeom is still cheery, eagerly leading you upstairs and down a maze of hallways. 

The outside of the cabin, while daunting, failed to betray how big it actually is as you pass door after door on your journey.

The room Dokyeom is sharing with Soonyoung is cozy. Two full sized beds with little room for anything else and an en suite the size of a closet. But at least you won’t have to battle it out with anyone else for a bathroom during the next three days. 

Dokyeom was lucky enough to claim the bed closests to the bay windows, framing a pleasant view of the backyard, dock, and sprawling lake. When you step closer, you can spot Seungkwan’s mop of hair as he leans on the edge of the railing that borders the porch; hand animated as the other holds his phone near his mouth.

Turning back to the bed, you spot your bag on the floor at the foot of it. The room is ten degrees hotter when you realize Dokyeom was lying right there as he talked you through an orgasm barely twelve hours ago. You awkwardly shuffle on your feet as you try to find something to say.

Dokyeom seems unperturbed, flopping onto the mattress, arms thrown wide in invitation. A shy grin twists your lips. Hair a mess, and cheeks flushed, Dokyeom looks cute. He’s always cute but navy crew neck and gray sweats transforms him into a cozy dream. The mattress dips under your knee as you crawl to lay next to him.

Settling your head over his heart, arms twining around one another, you feel your own give a peculiar squeeze. It’s truly no different than all the other times you’ve cuddled, albeit those were post-coitous; except it is. Dokyeom told you he wanted you here, that he likes spending time with you, and now he’s squeezing the life out of you as he snags one of your legs to wrap around his waist.

When sleep tickles your nose, pleasantly warm and inviting, you ignore how Dokyeom isn’t your boyfriend. What you have right now is perfect enough.

—

The sweet hum of Dokyeom’s voice lulls you awake, a simple melody you vaguely recognize from his playlist he insists on blasting during your hangouts. Gray light from outside casts the room sullenly dark. Storm clouds, swollen to a near black, eclipse the late afternoon sun. Dokyeom’s neck is the perfect place to escape the unavoidable sounds of the cabin filled with life, eyes firmly shut as you inhale the smell of laundry detergent and pine. 

One of your hands managed to twist under his sweater in your sleep, fisting his thin T-shirt as you attempt to beckon sleep out of hiding and back towards you. A pathetic whine escapes when Dokyeom jostles you in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, only silenced by his lips against your forehead and his stroking your elbow.

“Shhhh,” he coos. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“Like five.”

Lifting back from his neck, you pout. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

A gentle peck to your lips in response leaves you speechless, a soft quirk to his lips as you gape. Collapsing back into his chest you’re left to bask in each other's presence as you take to silently drawing shapes on his stomach, smiling as he giggles from ticklishness. His thumb traces the curves of your hip, digging to the soft flesh of your waist.

A banging on the door makes you both jump out of your skin before Seungkwan’s voice cuts the air. “Come on love birds, dinners ready!”

“If we don’t get up, do you think he’ll go away?” Dokyeom whispers into your hair.

“No.” 

On queue the door flies open, smacking against the wall and rebounding into Seungkwan’s face.

“I said it's time for dinner. Now get your asses up!”

“Go away, Boo!” You demand, chucking a pillow in his direction.

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Dokyeom asks, eyes sharp as he tries to kill the younger man with his eyes.

“When my elder does something respectable, I’ll consider it.” Seungkwan claps. “Now chop chop!” 

The dinner Seungkwan so adamantly demanded your presence at is a huge pot of spaghetti and some loaves of garlic bread. Nothing overly complex but the bustling atmosphere downstairs is nice, comfortable.

Dokyeom introduces you to some of the fraternity members you haven’t met, as well as their dates. Squished between him and Seungkwan at the dining table, you barely engage in conversation. Not that you need to. They both fill the space with their own joking easily enough.

Instead, your mind focuses on the warmth of Dokyeom’s shoulder brushing yours, and how he rests his arm on the back of your chair once he finishes his plate. 

When the mess is cleared away, a few people scurrying off to who knows where, Soonyoung insists on a game of Beerio Kart as dessert. Excited to have a new person to torment, he drags you to the couch before you can object. In a blink, you find yourself wedged between the armrest and Dokyeom as he explains the game.

“The rules are simple my friends! No drinking and driving and you have to finish your drunk before the race ends. If you fail to do so you’ll be publicly shamed.” Soonyoung claps his hands together, the maniacal glint in his eyes a little too intense for such a silly game. 

“And for additional chaos,” Seungkwan adds. “I’ve changed it to blue shells only.” 

“Now may the best driver win!”

“Alright, the first round is Jun, Marci, Sam, and me.”

“This is gonna be a bloodbath.” Someone calls from the other couch.

And it is. Jun uses height to hold Seungkwan’s drink out of the younger man’s reach, resulting in Seungkwan launching himself from the couch in a flying kick. They’re both so occupied with one another they don’t notice the race is long finished and neither of their characters moved past the starting line.

A chorus of boos rises as the race times out, designating them as 11th and 12th place.

“Alright, next is DK, Y/N, Wonwoo, and myself.”

“Can I forfeit?”

Dokyeom turns to you. “You wanna quit already?” 

“Considering my opponents, yes.”

“New rule: no quitting allowed.” Soonyoung interjects.

“You can’t make that a rule!”

“I just did!” 

You respond with a thumbs down, much more effective than the middle finger you want to throw his way.

“It’s okay if you’re scared, Y/N.” Wonwoo taunts from across the room. 

“I’m not scared!”

“That’s exactly what someone who is scared would say!” Soonyoung chimes in.

Dokyeom just shrugs his shoulders when you look at him for assistance. Figures. He’s part of the reason you don’t want to play. He and his roommate rile each other up too much under normal circumstances, let alone when things get competitive and alcohol is involved.

“Fine, let's play!”

Soonyoung divvies out another round of lukewarm beer cans you’re required to drink as Wonwoo picks the track. N64 Rainbow Road because apparently he’s an asshole. The way he reclines back in his seat confirms it.

To avoid the inevitable mess Dokyeom will make in his haste to chug before the race begins, you stand, shuffling closer to the safe zone at the edge of the coffee table. He tugs at the back of your shirt for a second, prompting you to shake your head. 

Dokyeom pouts but stays silent. 

“Alright lady and gentlemen! Start. Your. Engines!”

Cracking open your can the second the countdown begins on screen, you gag at the taste of cheap beer as everyone whoops around you. You manage half the can before you have to stop under the threat of it coming back up. Dokyeom and Soonyoung are still drinking, the later shuffling in place restlessly. Wonwoo hasn’t even opened his beer, focusing on getting as far ahead as he can.

Hopefully Seungkwan’s meddling takes care of him.

The race track is chaos as you press your character forward, occasionally blown off course by a blue shell moving to knock out whoever is in first. Half way through the course, you chance a glance at the other corners of the TV. Soonyoung and Dokyeom have finally started lap one, only for Soonyoung to fly over the edge at the first turn and wait to be rescued. Wonwoo is caught in the mess at the front of the pack, only able to maintain first for a fraction of a second before being sniped by a shell. 

Once you round the third lap, you take your chance. Stopping in a corner of the track to down the rest of your drink, hoping everyone is too engrossed in the events on screen to see you start moving despite still swallowing a mouth full of beer. 

This is when you see Wonwoo make his mistake. He pauses right before the finish line, cracking his can open and nearly choking on the large gulps in his haste. You're gaining quickly, barely a quarter of the last lap remains between your carts. When he finally finishes the can and picks up the controller, you unleash the blue shell you’d been saving. Rosalina goes flying as you sail by, Yoshi claiming fifth place.

“Suck it!” You scream, jumping up and down in victory; joined by Seungkwan who hollers with you as if he won too.

Wonwoo is shell-shocked, literally. He finishes seventh overall, pulling behind another computer character. Soonyoung is on the floor as he and Dokyeom fight for second to last place. The shame goes to Soonyoung as the race times out once again.

When you turn back to the couch you're met with another blinding smile as you drop into his lap. 

“Looooooserrrr,” you taunt as you flick his nose gently.

“Yeah whatever.”

“It’s okay, maybe I can teach you sometime.”

He laughs, squeezing you into his chest. “God, you’re annoying.” 

“It’s so lonely at the top.” You furrow your brow in mock sorrow.

Another race ensues, more chaos and screaming echoing through the living room. The heat of Dokyeom’s chest sinks through the back of your hoodie, strong plains of muscle shaking as he laughs with the group. When Seungkwan and Soonyoung face each other in a rematch you tempt Dokyeom upstairs, kissing behind his ear before leaning back and giving him the “look.”

The “I-want-your-dick-in-my-mouth” look.

Of which he very is familiar.

Dokyeom lurches forward, eager to appease, forgetting you're still in his lap until your weight knocks him back down. Shaking your head you stand and pull him up behind you, moving towards the stairs uninterrupted as Seungkwan and Soonyoung threaten each other's life and limb behind you.

Tacky wood shiplap digs into your spine uncomfortable as Dokyeom crowds you against the wall. His lips ghost along your jaw, hands on either side of your head to prevent him from crushing you. You don’t have the same concern, pulling him closer with the fabric of his sweater. The door to his room is a few feet to your left but the idea of separating for even a second to make it inside is pure agony.

“What does the winner want for her prize?” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Depends.” You sigh, grinding against the bulge of his thigh. 

“On?”

“If my prize is separate from what I get for driving up here.”

Dokyeom nips your chin, dodging your attempt to connect your mouths.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’m gonna do that anyway.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

He stays silent, teeth bruising the sliver of shoulder peeking out under your collar.

“I want you to fuck me,” cut of with a hiss at his vigor, “and I want to film it.”

Backing out of your neck, Dokyeom blinks at you, mouth wide.

Peeking at him through your eyelashes, you wait for Dokyeom’s brain to restart. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Not a rejection or an agreement. Just surprise.

A heaviness curls in your gut. You thought he’d like the idea, especially from his reaction to the pictures you sent last night. And the videos he’s sent over the months you’ve been hooking up. Videos of him jacking off, cumming on his own stomach, your name on his lips. But maybe you assumed too much.

“Ifyoudon’twanttowedon—”

But a scream interrupts your rant as he lifts you by your thighs, ankles locking around the top of his butt and arms tangling around his neck like a koala. You hold on for dear life as he carries you down the hallway.

Palming your ass harshly with one hand, the other scrambles to open the door as he licks up your neck. The door rattles on its hinges as he kicks it shut but the blood rushing through your ears muffles it.

“Yes, yes. Holy shit, yes.” He’s whining into your ear, hips rutting into your core as he lands unceremoniously on the bed, crushing you underneath him.

You’re shocked for a second, woefully unprepared for his enthusiasm. But another harsh rush against you, coupled with his hands pawing up your shirt to palm your chest makes you bold.

Two things you know to be true about Dokyeom: 

First, he has a ragging praise kink. If you tell him he’s a good boy, he can come almost untouched.

Second, he loves the sight of his cum streaking across your body.

He was right to say he’ll enjoy this as much as you will.

“Yeah? Wanna come on my face?”

Another pathetic whine against your neck as he keeps curling his clothed cock against you. All of his weight settles between your hips as drives you to madness.

“Then go lock the door.”

[measuredingold]

seneca

author’s note: hello hello ! trying something new and wanted to make something a little bit more … angsty ? 🫣 as always i hope you all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. loosely inspired by seneca by movements.

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x reader

cross posted on ao3

word count: 2.7k

cw/tw: angst, hurt/…possible comfort?, past relationship, open ending, 18+ mdni

When he sees you, Nicholas thinks his world comes to a full stop.

It's been three years since he's last seen you, three years since the last time he's spoken to you. It was weird seeing you here at this coffee shop that the two of you used to frequent so often together, knowing you weren't meeting him there. You look good, you always have, but you seem to be glowing now. Skin full of life and the happiest smile on your face when you're conversing with the barista behind the counter and -

Oh. His eyes move down to your hand and that's when he sees it. The diamond that sits prettily on your left ring finger, the sun catching it just perfectly as the light hits off of it. He feels sick again, stomach twisting.

You looked so fucking happy. He's not sure you'd say the same if you ever looked at him.

It's bittersweet, he thinks. On one hand he's happy for you and loves the way that ring adores your hand. He always knew you'd look good with a diamond. Another part of him is sad - heartbroken - knowing that it wasn't him who gave it to you. He could have, though, because all his life plans had always included giving you his last name.

Nicholas doesn't remember why he never did it when he had the chance. It couldn't have been the fear of rejection. You loved him just as much as he loved you, it was obvious. You even outright told him whenever he did it, your answer would always be yes because it was always going to be him.

What stopped him?

Was it the fear of this being permanent? Was it the fear of never being enough for you? He doesn't know, but what he does know is that he lost his chance three years ago, and there was no way of him ever getting it back.

He brings his long forgotten coffee to his lips, face twisting at the lukewarm taste. He'd spent so long watching you that it cooled down too much for his liking. It's fine, his own fault. He'll still drink it. He watches you brush some hair out of your face, tuck a loose strand behind your ear before observing the area around you, and he feels his heart nearly drop out of his ass.

Nicholas hopes you don't spot him but he knows you will. He used to know you like the back of his goddamn hand, so he knows what you're doing. You're scoping the place out, finding somewhere to sit, and he knows he's in your spot. It was his spot at one point in time.

Tucked away into the corner of the shop, a wooden bookshelf next to the table, a big window overlooking downtown. It was perfect, far enough from the hustle and bustle of customers coming and going. You and Nicholas used to sit here for hours, him sketching out a new tattoo for a client and you catching up on a few chapters of the newest book you were reading.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

His world comes to a stop for a second time that day when your eyes land on the table in the corner, finding him instantly. Your smile drops, eyes widening, and Nicholas is finally getting a good look at you for the first time in years and... holy shit. You haven't changed much. Your hair is much darker than the last time he saw you, back to your natural color, and you were still as beautiful as ever.

His stomach drops again.

Shit.

It's like he goes blind to the world around him, everything is muffled and there's a ringing in his ears that he just can't seem to make stop. He barely registers you thanking the barista and taking your drink with shaky hands and then making your way over to Nicholas' corner, a timid smile on your lips.

"...Nick?"

Your voice snaps him out of his trance. He blinks once, twice, and then a third time to make sure you were actually real before saying your name.

"I didn't know you were back home." You say casually and he watches the way your fingers grip around your cup, holding it to your chest as if you were trying to protect what’s underneath it.

He swallows. "Home for the summer. Break from touring."

You make an ah sound, giving him another timid smile as your head nods.

"That's right. Y'all are big-shots now, huh?" He can't help but blush at your words, shoulders going up in a shrug in response. You look like you're going to say something else, chewing on your bottom lip as you look around the shop before your eyes land on him again. "...Do you mind if I sit?"

Oh. That's. Well. "Yeah. That's fine."

He watches you carefully place your bag on the back of your chair before sitting down, placing your drink on the table. Your hands are still circled around the cup and he can't help it, really, but his eyes drop back down to the diamond on your finger again. You catch him this time, a sheepish grin on your lips as you untangle your hands and bring them down under the table into your lap.

"How've you been?"

Your question makes him tense, a sour feeling settling in the back of his throat. It's weird hearing you ask him that. At one point you were the only person in the world besides Noah who knew everything about him. You never once had to ask how he was, you just knew, because you could read him like a damn book.

He shrugs again, lips pressing together. He thinks he's been alright. The last few years have been a blur with the album and the touring, and while he wouldn't trade it for the world, it was a lot. He doesn't remember the last time he was able to sit down and think about how he was, let alone fucking breathe, so he's not really sure how to answer your question.

"Good." He manages to settle on that, voice clipped. "You?"

"Good."

This was more awkward than he ever expected. Truthfully, he figured if he'd ever see you again you'd be angry with him. He wouldn't blame you. The break-up was mutual, you both ending it on your own terms, but he knew it was his fault. Too busy for you, and all the empty promises he never seemed to remember to keep towards the end.

He doesn't know what changed in him because it wasn't his feelings. He'd never love someone like he had you.

Maybe it was the constant realization that he'd never be able to give you what you want. The touring was straining on your relationship, and his time was always spent between being in Virginia or California. It was like you were in a long distance relationship while living together. It shouldn't have been like that. He knew it then and he knew it now.

"How are the other three?"

This makes him smile, small but real, and his arms cross over his chest as he watches you bring your drink up to your lips. "Good. Noah's always going to be Noah, Jolly's trying to keep up, and Folio is..."

"Folio." You finish the sentence for him, and he can see your lips tugging into a grin. His smile grows.

"Yeah, Folio."

"I'm really glad to hear that." You sip your drink before continuing, "Tell them I said hi."

"Will do." He probably won't.

Another wave of silence washes over the two of you and it's still fucking awkward. Nicholas hates it. He's a quiet guy and for the most part you were quiet too, but the silence was always comfortable when you were together. He thinks it's because it's been three years, you're two different people now. He's not the same person he once was, and he knows you're not the same either.

He begins to wonder what type of person you are now and if your new selves would get along. He wants to ask you what's changed, ask about who you are now. He wants to learn you all over again, but the deep ache in his chests tells him he can't. He thinks back to the way the light reflected off your ring and that sour taste in the back of his throat lingers yet again.

He finds himself wanting to ask about him, ask if he's treating you well, and if he's giving you everything Nicholas couldn't.

He decides to keep his mouth shut.

"I bumped into your mom the other day at the store." You finally say, eyeing him from across the table. "She's really proud of you, you know."

"Oh." His mom didn't mention that when he got in the other day. Probably for the best. His cheeks flush at your words and his head dips down, hiding the bashful look on his face. "She's our biggest fan, I think."

"You've got a lot of those now, huh?"

Your eyes meet from across the table and he averts his gaze almost immediately, looking off to the side. "I guess."

Your words really seem to sink in because they do have a lot more support than they did the last time he saw you. It was before the album dropped, before everything changed. He wondered what you thought of it all, if you’re proud of them. Him.

"...I'm really proud of you, too." You finally say, answering his question.

Hearing those words come from your mouth has Nicholas' face heating up, still not being able to bring himself to look at you.

"You guys worked really hard for this. You deserve it all."

You'd been there from the beginning, in the early days when the norm was sleeping in a tiny van way too fucking small for some grown ass men. You always told him that one day everyone else will get Bad Omens, that they'll finally see the potential, and he used to think you were crazy. Now he's not sure if you manifested all this shit on your own.

"Thank you." He says with a smile, but it's strained, and finally manages to cast you another glance.

Both of your hands are on the table again, the ring on your finger long forgotten by you but he didn't forget. It's been on his mind since he saw it and the words were on the tip of his fucking tongue but he won't say anything. No, he'll wait until you bring it up. If you bring it up. His eyes drop from yours and down to your left hand.

"We don't have a date set."

He blinks back up at you.

"We... I didn't wanna rush it." He catches you looking down at the ring, admiring it with a smile, but it looks pained. "He wants to have a big wedding. Wants to go all out, invite like 500 people."

"Do you even know 500 people?" Nicholas finds himself saying and you laugh. He soon realizes just how much he's missed that sound.

"No. I think I barely know 100 people, let alone 500." Your laughter subsides and you catch Nicholas' eye again, smile faltering. "I keep telling him I want something small. Intimate. I don't like big things."

Nicholas knew that. He remembers how much you hated big crowds, your designated spot at shows typically being side stage or at the merch table with him or Steven.

"I told him I was willing to compromise, he can choose the venue but we gotta half that number..." You continue when Nicholas doesn't say anything, eyeing your ring again. "I haven't convinced him yet, but I will. Said we're not setting a date until we figure this out. We have time, though. There's no rush."

It almost sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than you were Nicholas and that has his stomach turning.

"How's your mom?"

He changes the subject because that sour taste is back, more prominent, and he realizes he doesn't want to talk about him. Would rather talk about anything else actually, especially when he noticed the second your smile fell and your eyes dimmed as you admired the ring on your finger. He won't think too much into it, he won't allow himself, but he thinks there’s more to that sad smile on your lips than you’re letting on.

The conversation after that slowly flows along. Nicholas was never good at small talk, and neither were you, but whenever you were around each other it seemed like the words would just easily come out. He always found it funny how he was just naturally introverted, quiet, kept to himself, but whenever he was around you or Noah he could never seem to get himself to shut up. He likes knowing that seems to haven't changed.

It was still awkward, sure, catching up with someone who's essentially a stranger when they used to not be, but towards the end he starts to feel lighter. Shoulders dropping, tension slipping from him when he finally gets you to laugh about the story of leaving Folio at the gas station, the sadness in your eyes slowly going away, and that sad smile on your lips growing into something happier. He feels pride well in his chest because he did that, even after all this time he was still able to make you smile, but that feeling dissolves at the first sound of your phone going off.

You stop abruptly mid-sentence, the both of you pausing to stare at the phone that's settled on the table. He sees his name flash across the screen, a picture of you two popping up, and that sour taste is back. He averts his gaze and clears his throat.

"Hey." Your voice shifts when you answer, much softer than it had been just moments. "Yeah, still here. Ran into an old friend." He glances at you. "Oh shit, yeah. Forgot that was today. No, no. It's fine, babe. I can leave now. Be there in 15? Alright. Got it." You pause on your next words, eyeing Nicholas across from you before your gaze moves to the side. "Yeah. Love you, too."

You're quiet after the phone call ends and Nicholas doesn't bother looking up from the table. He feels ridiculous for the way his chest aches, knowing his time with you has been cut and he doesn't know when he'll get to see you again. It's selfish, he fucking knows it is. He doesn't have a right to feel this way anymore. It's not like you're his. You haven't been for a long time.

"That was..." Your words trail off and he finally looks up for a moment, seeing the sad smile on your lips. "I should probably head out."

He nods, giving you a tight-lipped grin in return before his eyes cast down again. He misses the way your lips drop into a frown.

"Probably."

He doesn't look up when you rise from your seat, just stares at the now cold cup of coffee on the table he’s forgotten about again. He jumps when he feels something heavy on his shoulder, head tilting up to find you staring down at him, your hand gripping his shoulder. His eyes drop to your hand again, the diamond ring glaring back at him, before his eyes rise to meet yours.

You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "It was really nice to see you again, Nick."

"Oh." He swallows. "It was nice seeing you, too."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Something flashes in your eyes, something he’s seen before but can’t quite place it, and you squeeze his shoulder again. “And… maybe we could get dinner? Catch up? If you’re okay with that.”

Dinner.

Such a simple request yet it has Nicholas sitting up straighter, excitement filling his veins at the possibility of seeing you again. Your hand still feels heavy on his shoulder and that look in your eyes he still can't place seems to be pleading with him, and before he knows it he finds himself nodding.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Number is still the same, just uh. Reach out."

"Great." You smile again and this time it does reach your eyes. Nicholas finds himself smiling right back. "I'll see you around."

"See you." He mumbles and his eyes watch you as you leave, the ache in his chest ceasing to exist for just a moment.

[finnzhal]

Bond

@eduardo200012 asked.

Savanaclaw boyswith a boyfriend who has a younger brother the same age as Cheka, who is very jealous of them for stealing his older brother.

FINN's response.

This is so adorable !! Although , again . . I don't know what you want me to write it specifically so this is a drabble + headcanons again . . But thank you for requesting ! I don't know much about Jack so i tried

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Reader : MALE , YOU / YOUR

Character : SAVANACLAW TRIO! LEONA , RUGGIE , JACK (TWST)

Mentions : just pure cute stuff , Leona swearing

VOICEMAIL.

I'm so sorry for having late posts , tons of shit happened and I almost died in the hospital. My back is aching so much these past few days .

Also I'm not quite good at making 3rd POVs so I'm not quite proud of this work

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Little story on how your Little brother comes in with you :

I actually don't know how you guys end up in the same coffin but I'll try . You and your little brother were at the park playing until it was noon , your mind started to get all dizzy and went black . You brother rushes towards you and his small body fills in with fear and confusion , He was crying trying to wake his big brother up as he goes ontop of you smacking his older brother to wake up until a few black horses with a black carriage suddenly appears in the forest approaching both of you. It made your little brother look up as particles lifts both of you up entering the black carriage and putting the big brother in a black coffin while your little brother was just in the carriage putting his little hand on the coffin .

Let's say Grim and your little brother were the reason why you woke up and the entire place was in fire . Your little brother can be . . . Well chaotic and a bit of a spoiled kid

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LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

As we all know Leona's not fond with kids , especially toddlers so seeing his nephew and his boyfriend 's little brother with him . He'll be complaining 24 / 7

Leona will always lock his room whenever Cheka visits him. He knows both of them will bug him the entire day and creating new chaos

Leona gets annoyed as your little brother always butts in whenever you both cuddle up in bed. He was about to ask you to disown your brother-

Leona and Your little brother will always fight but your brother would end up getting frustrated and kicking Leona at either the stomach or back

Leona knows your little brother's jealousy, He'll always get close to you and smirking at your little brother whenever you give Leona your full attention. He finds joy when your brother gets mad at him for getting all of your attention

Despite fighting for your attention, you find them cuddling up every afternoon. It's like their afternoon nap routine at this point. Leona will deny about your little brother being adorable

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RUGGIE BUCCHI

RUGGIE have experience taking care of children in the past so he's not like Leona when he knew about your little brother with you but every moment he's with you.. your little brother tries to get your attention every second just so you couldn't focus on Ruggie and that's where he realized.. he have a rival to get your attention!

whenever they both fight for you, you know someone will scream and cry at the end and it's mostly your brother. RUGGIE in the other room sulking as you pamper your little brother

Ruggie is the type of boyfriend who'll hang out with you and being touchy with you just to watch your little brother get jealous, He does it on purpose and your brother hates it

Ruggie and your brother makes some deals without you knowing about it. They'll plan when it's their turn to spend time with you alone, Ruggie doesn't follow the rules on purpose and it made your brother furious

But when your little brother gave him pastries after baking with Trey, Little brother knows Ruggie's favourite just because you told him about it once. Ruggie almost softened up.. (not almost, He absolutely adores your little brother)

Now, Ruggie doesn't mind spending time with you and your brother together. Ruggie uses your little brother as bait and steals your money just to buy food

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JACK HOWL

Honestly, Jack wouldn't even noticed your little brother's jealousy towards him until your brother cried when he wouldn't budge to move away from you because your brother couldn't hug you

Jack wouldn't mind if your little brother wants to spend time with you since well, it's your little brother. He tries to treat your brother with respect too but he couldn't stand the bratty-ness(😭) of your brother, he didn't say that out loud but you know it well because he's always giving your brother a stink eye

Jack growls whenever your brother pushes him away from you without telling him, He was trying his best not to get angry at your brother.. he needs your affection after that. He finds it quite cute when your brother tries so many ways to grab your attention. He doesn't know how a cute little thing can be so demonic

So I said Jack tries many ways to get your little brother's respect and approval.. he finds out your little brother likes to play games like to play tag and anything outside play, When you and your brother were playing, he then joins in and that's how both him and your brother bonded (You know damn well your brother will play horseback riding with him)

Jack and your brother bonded by playing sports and exercising every morning, your little brother will be healthy as hell because of him

Your brother being the demon he is, He'll still get jealous and mad when Jack is getting more attention than him. Jack would just grab your brother with his tail and hug him too

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I'm so sorry that this isn't my best works, I rushed it since I don't really focus on savanaclaw that much- but I did read their wikis to have some ideas

Please tell me if I have some grammar/spelling mistakes

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© Do not steal. please. FINN's fragile

[littlemarianah]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

✨️Oh god! I love this question, thank you so much! ✨️

My favorite headcannon is that the first daughter is very desired by both of them. And they take a long time because they want it so much. They want it to be perfect and at the right time. Pregnancy and postpartum hits Katniss very hard, it's very difficult for her. But after the baby grows a few months she starts to really enjoy being a mother. Willow is such a sweet and smart baby. Fill their house with her cries, then her laughter, then her heavy footsteps, then her questions, then her singing voice. It fills their home with life and happiness that they haven't seen in many years. Peeta and Katniss are able to enjoy life more after she is born, and they fall in love again. The first daughter makes them want a second baby (something that wasn't in the plans).

By my count, Katniss gave birth at 32 years of age, 15 years after the war. And her second child she has at 35 years old. So Rye and Willow are about 2.5 years apart.

About names... Rye and Willow! It's a name that has been circulating in the fandom for a few years and I really love it.

Rye is Peeta's deceased brother, but not only that. It's the name of a food and besides food, the other thing that keeps K&P alive is everyone they lost in the past. Rye is a tribute to those who couldn't get here. And also because when the boy is born, Peeta finds him very similar to his middle brother. A little boy makes Peeta very emotional about missing his brothers.

Willow is for the tree in the lullaby. It's a safe and happy place. Katniss decides on this name after she discovers is a girl. It's a tribute to the little girls in her life who didn't have the chance to become women. It is also a tribute to Katniss's mothers and father who named their daughters after plants, she wants to maintain the family tradition.

About who gets the talents! They both sing a lot, Katniss sang to them all the time when they were young, so they both have a love for music and they both sing. . But Wiilow has Peeta's charisma and loves being the center of attention, while Rye is very shy and only sings when he is alone. So is Willow who always clears her throat and starts singing loudly whenever she has the opportunity. She has a much more powerful voice than Katniss, sings with vigor, and has a deep voice. She's very good at that. In addition to singing, she also writes music. She starts creating rhymes about Rye, making fun of him and singing all day to make him mad. Then when she gets older, she starts to write about all her romantic disappointments. And I believe, she breaks your heart so often that her parents start to worry.

Now Peeta's artistic talents go to Rye. Rye, being a 14 year old boy, loves to say that he is actually a hunter, not an artist. But all of Rye's arches are carved with designs he made. He loves drawing and carving in wood and when he is a teenager his fingers are all injured from the amount he cuts himself doing so. He doesn't draw much on paper, but he's always creating something. Or making bread in the shape of animals. And Peeta is extremely proud about it. He wasn't able to explore his artistic talents at Rye's age, so he does what's best so the boy can. He gives him expensive art supplies for his birthday and always hangs Rye's sculptures on the wall. He's the slobberiest dad ever.

I could talk about toast babies all day.

Instead of talking about my favorite fanfics, I'm going to talk about the post-MJ fanfic I'm writing.

The fanfic is about Willow studying to be an army nurse like Prim was. The world is different now, there are no more wars, but it still makes Kantiss very nervous about the idea. So there's a lot of mother-daughter drama. Willow is very angry and rebellious and Rye is very shy and attached to his parents. It's about the Mellark family dealing with generational trauma and Peeta and Katniss trying to help their children understand the world. And how difficult it is to explain to those children who were raised with a lot of love that there is a lot of hunger and a lot of evil out there. And also about parents who have to let their children grow and mature. It's about love, it's a famfic about family.

Well, it was a very long text, but I'm very happy with this question!

Thanks, non. 💞

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Helpless part 44, who will look for you when you’re the one that goes missing?

TW/ suicidal thoughts, underage drinking, mentions of drugs and sh

Nico layed still, staring at the roof, completely awake. He knew what would happen if he slept, he couldn't go through that again not right now. His head pounded with the pain; bearly breathing he tried to shut his eyes but his only thoughts were the nightmares which were his life. He couldn't do it anymore, he needed something, anything to take the pain away. Unless he actually we through with his plan, Will would kill him, but if it worked it would never get to that stage. He let the darkness consume him like it had endless times before that, opening his eyes in finding himself back in his cabin. His head was spinning, vision blurred and he could hardly keep himself upright but he would be okay, he'd done this hundreds of times before, he was fine. As the Ghost King looked around he saw everything had been taken away, the drugs, the cigarettes, his knives the bottles everything, that was expected, he just prayed they hadn't found the rest. He stumbled towards the bathroom, pulling out the one hollow tile, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, he knew Will would be disappointed but everything that happened was too much, every haunted thought from the past, he couldn't live like this anymore, he couldn't live anymore, he couldn't live. All he wanted was to be a normal fucking person with a normal fucking life. There was no point living when theirs nothing to live for, the only words he could think were 'I'm sorry' sorry for being such a waste of space, sorry for not being what they needed, sorry for never being good enough. He wanted to take back everything, every word he'd said, everything he'd done but it was too late. Ever pain in his life was haunting him, overwhelming every second of every day of every moment in time. He hadn't realised he was crying, tears were pouring down his face leaving him in a shaking mess in the dark. He wish that Percy and Jason never found him, if they hadn't he wouldn't be here, not stuck in having to act like he cared about his life. They'd all be so disappointed, and he couldn't fucking care less, he didn't care because he couldn't bring himself to. He cracked open the bottle a drunk as much as he possibly could in one gulp. He was still here. He drunk again, finishing an entire bottle of straight vodka in less than a minute, his throat stung but he didn't feel it anymore. He felt himself getting fainter by the second, he'd just drunk more than half a litre of vodka in the span of a few minutes. Before he could process what that meant the world went dark, the last thing he heard was a shattering glass. Nico layed, passed out on the floor but the nightmares still haunted him and he now couldn't run no matter how hard he tried.

***

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POV: u thought you posted this part like 5 days ago

[daydreamwritting]

Until He Wasn't Part 1

Light Yagami was the perfect boyfriend...until he wasn't. When high school sweethearts turn into a murderous nightmare, Y/N must get out of this relationship alive, finding some surprising company in the process.

Relationship's: Light x reader, L Lawliet x reader

Warnings: abusive relationship, Light Yagami being a mass murderer as usual, mentions of sex, mentions of suicide (no details), cheating (kinda. is it really cheating or is it escaping?)

Not edited, feedback is appreciated! :)

I would also like to note that I originally sent this idea as a request to cat3ch1sm on tumblr but couldn't get it out of my head. So if this ends up being familiar that's my bad. I will link their version of this of they post it!

You sat at your desk, staring at the textbook in front of you like you have been for the past three hours. Homework and studying all seemed so pointless now. It's been five hours since you left your boyfriends house. About six weeks since you watched Light go off the deep end. Six weeks since you realized just how trapped you were.

You didn't think too much of it the day Light picked up the Death Note. You both laughed as you read through the first page of rules. Eventually, curiosity got the better of both of you, and when Light suggested trying it on a criminal, you thought it was an ideal solution, not like either of you were actually expecting it to work. From there on Light continued to kill off criminals, and although you didn't necessarily agree with what he was doing, watching him save a bunch of hostages from his desk chair isn't something you can easily get angry at. You figured if this is how Light would be using the death note, the world should be thanking him.

To be fair, you didn't notice just how often Light was spending with the notebook. You and Light were so caught up in your studies that most of your dates recently happened at nearby cafes or the library. Which was the exact reason you were so excited to go to Light's house that day.

You slammed the textbook shut, trying to make sense of where it all went wrong. It was just a normal afternoon in the Yagami house. You were with Light in his room, cuddling on his bed and lazily watching the tv, just wanting to forget about the stress of school and spend time with each other. It was a shock to both of you when a man appeared on the tv claiming to be world class detective known as L. You and Light sat up, both of you having heard of L before, seeing his face was something new though. The few minutes chilled you to your core.

"Criminals around the world are being murdered by a serial killer. I consider this crime to be the most atrocious act of murder in history. I-" You tuned out the rest of the sentence as you turned to Light. His face was unreadable.

"Light?" You whispered. He ignored you as he stood up and grabbed the death note from his desk drawer, having to flip through dozens of pages to get to an empty one. "How many names have you written, Light?" You stayed frozen at your spot on the bed. When did he have time for all of this?

"I anticipated that the police might get involved and that something like this might happen."

"The police? Light how many names did you write?....Light!" He continued to ignore you, listening to the man on the small screen instead.

Light slowly grabbed a pen from his desk. "You see YN, I have been using the death note to protect the innocent. Call it justice if you will." You watched, unable to do anything as he wrote down the detectives name. When he was done, he turned to stare at you as you watched the detective collapse onto the ground in horror. "I plan to use it to create a new world. A world of peace to be desired. And any who oppose it, lets just say I move them out of my way. Do you understand?" He stared as you intensely as you nodded slowly. This version of Light scared the shit out of you, and something told you he'd be sticking around.

Since that day, the Light you knew disappeared. The facade was always kept up to throw off his family and the police force, but you knew it was all for show. The Light you knew was gone, and Kira had taken his place.

L would have to be a fool to believe that you were as clueless as you acted. Since Light first introduced you he knew that was his ticket to the truth. You were smart just like Light, but your grades have plummeted drastically in the past few months, whatever facade Light was keeping up was clearly more difficult for you to follow. But other than that, there was nothing else L could find suspicious with the couple. If you knew anything at all you kept it well hidden. If you knew L had placed cameras around the Yagami house you certainly didn't show it. L was pretty certain from what he knew about you that you wouldn't let Light touch you like that knowing others were watching.

"Certainly we can rule out my son now?" The police chief said, his face red from the uncomfortable scene they all just watched play out on the monitors in front of them.

"No." L replied, "I don't believe Light would go through such lengths to keep people out of his room just to be sexually active with his girlfriend of three years. I mean certainly that part shouldn't have been a surprise to you."

"I just don't understand what exactly we are looking for." Masuda stated. "Light just seems like a normal teenager. Shouldn't we be looking elsewhere? I mean, not to undermine your intelligence, it just that Kira is still killing and we aren't finding anything watching Light."

"You're right." L said blankly. Masuda smiled. "I want camera all over Y/N's house."

"You can't be serious?" Chief Yagami said, putting his fingers to his temple, trying to relieve his oncoming headache.

"I'm always serious. You are all dismissed for the day. We will resume tomorrow."

That night all L thought of was you as he sat with his legs up to his chest, case files scattered out in front of him. He reviewed everything he knew about your relationship with Light. You had both met in class, both straight A students, its obvious why you two got together. According to Chief Yagami you have been nothing but pleasant to be around, and the few times Light has brought you around he had to agree. You seemed too nice for your own good. He wouldn't put it past Light to keep you in the dark about this, but something about that felt off to L. On the off chance that Light would be able to detect the cameras in his house, he purposefully left them out of yours. He wanted Light to think you weren't a suspect. L also knew you spent most of your time with Light in public or at his own house.

The next day, after everyone else was dismissed early for the evening, L, Chief Yagami, and Matsuda stayed behind to review footage from your house. To most, seeing you study at your desk with your textbook wouldn't raise any suspicion, but L has noticed that you haven't flipped a page in over forty minutes. Without any warning you slammed the textbook shut, startling the less observant police officers. Taking a closer look at the screen L noticed you were crying. "Well this is something new." From what L knew of you, you were normally very composed. The three watched in shock as the silent tears turned into full out sobs. This was the breakdown L was hoping to see, but it all ended too soon as you stood up and exited your house.

"So that tells us absolutely nothing." Matsuda scoffed.

"That told us absolutely everything." L stated as he rose from his chair and headed to the exit, "You are dismissed. I have something important to attend to."

You left your house in a hurry, tears still streaming down your face. luckily it was getting dark, most families were having dinner so you didn't have to worry about anyone seeing you uncontrollably sob as you walked a few blocks down to your favorite park. You sat down on a wooden bunch under your favorite tree. You always came here when you felt overwhelmed, something about the fresh air and surrounding greenery gave you some piece from the chaos that is now life. To be honest you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up, and Light knew it. He had you on a tight leash at this point, you knew he'd never let you walk away from the situation. Light was no longer the loving boyfriend you knew, every day he would remind you just how easily he can write your name in the book if you said anything. Lights reaction alone to you suggesting wanting to walk away with the promise of not saying anything was enough to convince you he was going to write your name down then and there.

"It's a nice night for a walk." L voice startled you as you quickly turned to face him, fear clear on your face.

You attempted to wipe your tears and act normal around the detective. You knew he was L, although Light did nothing but threaten you he did keep you in the loop, that and you've seen him a few times when Light would bring you with him to the task force. Realizing L was waiting for a response, you tried to act as normal as possible. "I just wanted some fresh air to clear my head. Ya know, studying and all."

"Clear your head from studying or clearing your head from that fact that your boyfriend is Kira." You froze. You knew L has been suspecting Light, but you never thought he'd come to you directly. You hesitated to answer, almost expecting a swarm of police officers to come out and arrest you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You tired to say without your voice shaking, failing miserably.

L sat down next to you, looking you dead in the eyes. "As you know Light is currently being monitored, I can assure you he is currently at his house having dinner with his family. Chief Yagami is to inform me if he leaves the residence. So if you have something to tell me, now would be the time."

You stayed quiet, staring at the ground unsure of what to do. Sure Light was in the dark right now but how long would that last? How long until he knows you talked to L? Light was smart and he would find a way to kill you without making it look suspicious on his end. It would be easy enough, You're about to fail out of college, seems like a good enough excuse for a suicide.

"Y/N, if Light is Kira we need to know. " L tired again, not surprised by you silence as he tried a different approach. "You don't have to be involved with this Y/N. If Light is who I think he is, I want you to look over at the pond off to the right and we will get you out of here. The plan is already set, tomorrow when Light stops by, your father will inform him that the school has assigned you a tutor for your studies. We can discuss the rest when we get you somewhere safe." L knew this was a long shot. There was only about a 5% chance Light was actually Kira, but that was a chance he was willing to take. He knew he had the right decision when your eyes shifted over to the pond. With that L and you stood as he guided you Watari waiting in a nearby car.

[my-hybrid-moments]

us. - spike jonze

a/n: this was supposed to be a little thing bc i was bored but jesus it got long 😭😭

i <3 spike sm gang you have no idea this was so fun

its a teeny bit specified bc i made it as if it were from my own point of view but i did try and make it more general so i could post it

please please please request spike gang i <3 him

summary

you - a famous musician - are being interviewed, and the inevitable question comes up:

"what's the story behind yourself and spike jonze?"

and this is your answer.

warnings/notices to consider

none that i'm aware of, need to properly proofread

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

mine and spike's love story started in walt whitman high, maryland.

it was early november, i was 15, he was 16 - just a few months older than me, him being born in late october and me being born in mid december, so we were still in the same year group. we didn't fully acknowledge each other until we had to. of course, we had a few classes together in the past and even when we met - we both took the film class - but we never really spoke.

until a new club was introduced: film club.

it ran every day at lunch in a big ish room through a back door in the music department (where i usually was anyway). as it turns out, the administration just needed a use for the room in order to keep it there. no one in the school actually cared about film study. except for two little media nerds in 5th year. me, a freak, a loner, an outcast, and adam spiegel - but by 4th year everyone called him spike jonze (that was a nickname the local storeowner gave him - seemingly this stuck for quite a while).

he was always hanging around with these crazy students, i remember one of them was actually jeff tremaine. they were wild, but spike mostly kept to himself and was more just there for the antics rather than partaking (but we know he was - and still is - a fucking menace to society).

back to the big ish room - neither of us were entirely sure what to do, both of us being sort of shy and reserved in our day to day. once we realised that no one else was showing up, we started to talk. we introduced ourselves, discussed our favourite films and hit it off immediately. i don't know about him, but that day i knew we were starting something special. after about a week i'd developed a crush on spike - he was funny, sweet, charming and a gentleman - but did i plan on telling him? did i fuck. but to be fair i didn't have to. it was made glaringly obvious once we started hanging out and being friends outside that big ish room. everyone could see right through me. including spike himself. to this day he still teases me about how sweet my "puppy crush" on him was back in the day. and he still gets reminded that he wasn't any better, blushing and chuckling at what was essentially my every word like the inexperienced 16 year old he was.

he made all the first moves (which i like to remind him of every time he brings up my "heart eyes") - he asked me to the movies (he introduced me to what would become my all time favourite film to this day), he took me for ice cream on the beach (one with stones, not sand - he's always known i hate sand - and linked our pinkies as we walked since he was too nervous to hold my hand properly), gave me his jacket when i got even one shiver (he was freezing the whole time because he refused to take his jacket back), and finally kissed me ever so softly on the lips when we arrived back at my doorstep (he was shaking from nerves and cold, but his lips were still warm and soft, just like they are now - he put his hand on my cheek as the other held my own and my foot popped just like in those old romance movies we both adored back then). i was 16 too by then, it was january when our first date came around. but from the second his lips gently pressed against mine, as soon as i felt him against me, as soon as i felt his breath on my face i knew i couldn't find anyone better to spend my life with. in that moment i knew he was my soulmate. cheesey i know, but i knew then that we would be us.

after that the rest is pretty much history: we graduated together the at 18, moved away for college and in with each other at 19, graduated again at 23 - which was also when i finally released that song i wrote for our second anniversary. and guess what? it got big. that song went popular so fast, and so did spike. not long after we graduated (me with music and production, him with film and english) spike made his first big music video (for me, might i add) and after that he kept them coming, as did i. we got famous in the blink of an eye almost, it was amazing.

until it wasn't for a while.

by the time we were 24 (i know, not that long huh?) we'd both got too wrapped up in our work and got too overwhelmed to the point of snapping. we were exhausted, not meaning a thing we said but still throwing our words out like daggers. we broke up, and the following year was the worst of my life. we had broken up for 1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. i kept track of every day i had been without him, kept track of every day i was left in that house alone, every morning i woke up and spike's side of the bed was colder than it had ever been before. it was the worst torture i could imagine, and every song i wrote in that time was about him - whether it was about missing him or wanting him back, they were all for spike. all i wanted was him, but i thought he was done for good and so i left him alone.

that 1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks and 3 days led up to the mtv awards ceremony, the year spike was nominated for outstanding new picture. i had accepted the request for my performance before i knew that spike had been nominated, and by the time i knew it was much too late to back out to make sure he would be peaceful there.

so i went, having gotten dressed up how he loved out of pure habit. i wore a gorgeous black dress with my hair up. i opened with one of my more popular songs before heading to my seat to watch the awards, but i had to fight to keep my eyes away from spike. he looked amazing - smart suit (i think it was a tuxedo), dressy shoes, and his classic adorable messy yet organised hair. the hair that made him look like a puppy. the hair i used to play with as i fell asleep.

when the time came, he did end up winning the award he was nominated for. i was so proud and all i wanted was to turn to him and kiss him with an embrace like i had for past awards we won, but i couldn't even look up to the stage. i wouldn't. i knew if i did i'd break down seeing him so happy without me. his speech was as expected: thanking mtv, talking about the movie, thanking his coworkers... but then he thanked me. i shot up when i heard that, and that was the first time our eyes met in over a year. and you know what? i didn't completely break down (i definitely cried though i'll admit that). i think that was more because of shock.

i'll never forget that speech - i still go back and watch it from time to time when i'm feeling down. he talked about how that perfect, beautiful main character was based on me and how her loser boyfriend was symbolic of himself, he talked about how without me he wouldn't be stood there, how our perfect relationship had impacted him and his work, and how i never left his mind or his heart that whole time we were apart. he told me that our love story could never be written, and to him it would never be over - that it was the most perfect and pure love he'd ever known or felt - and out of all of his speech, what he said at the end hit me harder than anything:

"i just want you to know that i'll always have a piece of you in me. always."

it hit me then - he felt the same way that i did. all that time we felt the same. he missed me. after his speech the ceremony went on, i closed it out with a slight shake in my voice, singing a song i wrote about missing him (which he swears didn't make him cry, but his eyes were red and wet later that night) and i left for the afterparty. this was the first time in my life i'd gone to a party with no intention of drinking. my goal was to make a beeline for spike, and i needed a clear head for that. which is exactly what i did.

i found him in a corner with his head down, i said his name to get his attention. he looked up with those sweet, soulful eyes of his, only they were red raw and the light and enthusiasm in them was as low as i'd ever seen. usually full of this gorgeous light that was barely there anymore.

for a moment we just stood there, looking at each other, noticing every difference and change since we last were together - then all we did was hold each other. we stood there for so long, my face in his shoulder, his chin resting on my head, holding each other tight and knowing in that moment we'd never let go again.

we spent that night dancing to any song that came on, laughing like we were never apart. i'll never forget that night when he came home, and i'll never forget waking up in his arms the morning after. every moment since then was just like we were before, barely anything changed at all. that was a number of years ago now, he finally proposed a year after we reconnected and we got married the following year. our twin boys are soon to turn 3 and our girl has just turned 5. spike is working on jackass 2 right now, but he always makes sure we're his first priority. he always comes home early and happy. the kids adore him, and so do i. none of us have ever been happier than we are now, the media's favourite family.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

[hrtbrkwthrs]

Darling

joshua bassett x gn!reader

Summary: reader is at their limit, but joshua knows them too well, and he wont let them drown. (hurt/comfort fic)

Notes: no use of pronouns, no use of y/n, no description of reader

Trigger Warnings: no specific mental illness is mentioned but in a general sense, SEVERE depression is heavily implied. Detailed depictions of depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, almost attempted suicide using pills (all from reader).

This fic has a fairly detailed moment where reader is cutting themselves. I wrote this originally only for myself as a form of comfort. Please THINK before you decide to read this. The most important thing here is for you to stay safe. The sole purpose of me posting this fic is for readers who are similar to myself that might find comfort in this, but not everybody will get the same thing out of this fic, so please please please do NOT read if this will trigger you in any way. be safe, lovelies.

i wanna get lovesick, i wanna get lovesick with you

the sickly-sweet song sliced through the deafening quiet, nothing else but your small sobs and sniffles.

that was your phone, your ringtone set as lovesick by peace. you looked down at the screen, barely making out the contact name through your tear-filled eyes. joshua.

the song was starting to get annoying, considering this was the fifth call in the past three minutes. you rejected the call once again before turning your phone off completely.

now that you could focus, you looked down on the ground in front of you where you sat criss-cross. you were home alone, and after a week of agonizing pain, your depression made you feel as if you were drowning and you couldn't breathe.

you couldn't take it anymore. every moment that passed by poured more salt into the wounds of the past, and sometimes, it even created new ones, fresh wounds.

the blood trickled down your skin as you decided to make some new wounds. battle scars, as some might say. only this time, this wasn't a battle you planned on winning.

when crimson had gently stained your arm just enough to satisfy you, your shaking hands set down the blade as you finally let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding in.

your eyes were sure to be a bit red and puffy as you had already been crying in your bed. you wanted to write a note beforehand but you barely even found the energy to end up on the bathroom floor you sat on.

as tears fell down your cheeks, sobs threatening to escape your trembling lips, you grabbed the bottle of prescription pills next to you.

before you could think to proceed with whatever you had planned, there was a quiet knock at the bathroom door. nobody was meant to be home. joshua must have come home early.

you were home alone, still living with your parents who were currently out of state. joshua took a trip to stay with you for a few days, being your best friend and all, but he was stopped to run errands before he arrived. keyword: was.

"hey, it's joshua," his voice was small, gentle. it shouldn't have brought you much peace, you knew he'd do everything he could to stop you, and probably even get angry with you. after all, you did worry him. who wouldn't be mad at you for that? "please let me in..." but nevertheless, that small voice made you choke out sobs even harder than before.

barely audible, you tried to speak, "go away..."

in hindsight, that may have been dumb. what was he gonna do? actually go away?

"please let me in, okay? that's all i ask." his quiet pleas from the other side of the door drew your hand up to the handle, slowly and shakily turning it to open the door.

he looked at you for a moment. your hair was a mess, you had bags under your eyes, you haven't changed in days, you hadn't showered in weeks, and you were sure that it was probably time for a tooth brush. you felt disgusting. you were disgusting. it didn't take a genius to know he was probably judging you. who wouldn't?

"oh, honey," he knelt down next to you as your sobs got harder and you stared at him through tear-stained, lidded eyes.

immediately, he pulled you into a hug as you cried, face buried in his chest. "i'm sorry," you kept repeating over and over. his hands ran through your hair as he shushed you, reassuring you and trying to help you calm down just enough for him to give you a bit of first aid.

after a few moments of his tight embrace, you finally settled down enough to breathe. he took the bottle of pills that had toppled to the floor amidst the commotion. "did you take anything?" he questioned quietly.

you shook your head no.

"promise me?"

you nodded.

he looked at you with gentle eyes and an empathetic smile. tears welling up with both worry, but also relief that you were still alive.

he took your hand, guiding you as he stood up and helped you stand as well. he rummaged around the drawers in the bathroom until he finally found the gauze and a cotton pad to cover your wounds.

he smiled at you comfortingly as his tears threatened to fall. he guided your arm underneath the faucet as he turned on a cool stream of water. he grabbed a wash cloth, slowly and carefully cleaning your wounds and blood-stained skin.

once you were all cleaned up, he dried your arm off as gently as possible, taking great care to not hurt you as he patched you up.

he got some anti-biotic ointment, gently massaging it over your cuts before placing the little cotton pad over them.

now that your wounds were safe, he grabbed the roll of gauze and wrapped your wrist up tightly, but not too tight. it was just tight enough. you were all patched up.

"now," his voice was soft, "lets get you a shower, can you do that for me? all you gotta do is wash off, okay? after, i'll help you wash your hair in the sink."

he helped you down off the counter. you stood close to him, head held down as you almost cowered. but you nodded, nevertheless.

joshua turned on the shower, making sure the water was just the right temperature for you. he took some saran wrap to protect your wrapped up arm, covering it lightly as the water heated up. he promised you he'd be just outside as you showered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he stepped out of the bathroom to give you some privacy.

your stomach jumped thinking that maybe joshua would be proud of you for this, too. you let yourself think more. your mind wandered to dark things, the sad parts of your brain, but you somehow you still managed to think about joshua. your best friend, your literal life saver. you realized there wasn't a single other person you'd rather be with you right now.

joshua praised you for showering when you finished, he was so proud of you for doing so. "i didn't get to use soap..." you frowned, disappointed in yourself, but joshua wasn't. he was proud of you either way.

"that's okay! you still got in the shower and washed off, and that's a big accomplishment. one step at a time, okay? i'm so proud of you." he gave you a comforting smile, one that made you trust his words. so you nodded.

he took your hand, unwrapping the saran wrap from your bandage and guided you to the sink. he brought you a chair, letting you sit as he turned on the water and let it warm up just a bit. he took a plastic cup, filling it up.

"lean your head back," he guided, and you did. he gently poured the water over your hair, soaking it. he took some of your shampoo and began to massage it into your hair gently. his fingertips worked to help soothe you.

finally, he rinsed the shampoo and repeated the steps for your conditioner. your hair was clean, thanks to joshua.

"there you go. i'm really proud of you for letting me help you," he said genuinely. this made you feel a little safer. you did it! you accomplished something, even though it may have seemed like such a small task. it wasn't small to you, but you did it. and joshua was proud of you.

after taking a shower, no matter how small, and getting your hair washed, you felt a little better. feeling less icky helped ease some of your insecurities at the moment.

when you got to your room, joshua surprised you with one of his old t-shirts. he said he wanted it to feel like a forever hug from him once it was time for him to go back home. you weren't really supposed to wear it yet, but he gave the gift to you early so maybe you'd feel a bit safer with it on.

you got changed quickly, pulling the t-shirt over you and you threw on some boxer shorts and some fuzzy socks. as you walked out of your room to find joshua, he was fixing your toothbrush for you. he smiled, one that made you feel safe as he wrapped his arms around you in a big hug.

"think you can brush your teeth for me? i'm right here with you." you nodded at his promise and got started. as you brushed your teeth, he encouraged you, comforted you as he ran his hand over your back and stayed only inches away from you.

finally leaving the bathroom with joshua, you headed over to the couch in your living room. he watched as you sat down and he smiled wide at you.

"what?" you asked him as he stared at you.

"i'm just so proud of you," he hopped over the couch to meet you, pulling you into a tight hug. he gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before he pulled away.

you giggled quietly. it wasn't much but it was something. the most hint of your sunshine that he'd seen in days. and it made his heart flutter with joy.

"wait, i need to throw some dirty clothes into the bin," you said as quickly as you remembered how messy your bedroom was, a little embarrassed. you were going to clean it before he got here, but that obviously was not on your list of priorities...

he followed you to your room so you could throw some old clothes into the dirty-clothes bin and tidy up a little, but you were met with a fully cleaned room.

you thought back, knowing the last time you left your room just this morning, it was filthy. the floor was covered with dirty clothes, water bottles scattered around the room and trash from the few snacks that you could tolerate eating over the past few days.

joshua had cleaned your room while you were bathing.

"joshua, you didn't have to do that," your face blushed with embarrassment, and maybe you were a little flustered, too. after all, you had someone in your life who loved and cared about you so much that they'd clean your room for you after helping wash your hair. he tended to your wounds, and leant you his old t-shirt to help you feel safer. he dropped everything he was doing just to drive home and check on you. why? all because you sent a mildly cryptic, "i love you" text and missed a few calls.

he loved you.

like really loved you.

so he pulled you into another hug, resting his head on your shoulder as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. he held you tight, so tight you thought he'd never be able to pry himself off of you, even if he tried.

when he finally broke away, he gently grabbed your hand and guided you to your bed. "let's get some rest, it's kind of late," he suggested.

you nodded. "mmkay," you obliged without hesitation. you admit, you were a little sleepy.

you climbed into bed and got comfy under the covers.

joshua didn't join you.

he studied you, your damp hair crowding around your face, wearing his shirt, yawning and snuggling into the pillows.

you were beautiful. to him, nothing could change that. not even when you go too long without showering or brushing your teeth. not even when your room gets a little too messy. not even if you tried to get him to change his mind. you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

"have you eaten today?" he finally spoke up.

you hesitated to answer.

"be honest," he pleaded.

you shook your head, finally admitting that you hadn't eaten anything.

"stay here, i'm going to go get you a snack," he smiled, leaving the bedroom door open so you could still hear him. you'd never feel alone with him near.

he walked through your door again, bringing a small bowl of grapes and other various fruits along with a glass of water.

"can you try and eat some of this for me? and drink some water?" he asked you softly.

you hesitated, but nodded finally. you sat up in the bed, taking the bowl. you waited to begin eating as joshua climbed into the bed next to you.

he turned on the tv, playing your favorite show for you to watch while you ate.

"i'm proud of you," joshua said for the third time tonight. it made your heart beat a little louder.

"thank you," you finally responded.

it was silent for a moment as he sat next to you, his hand resting on your thigh as you watched the tv and ate the fruit from the bowl. his thumb calmly stroked where his hand rested.

you finished eating, surprising even yourself as you cleared out the whole bowl.

he took the bowl from you, leaving a kiss on your cheek as he put the bowl down on the side table next to your bed.

"i love you," you blurted out without thinking.

you hadn't said the l word yet. hell, you weren't even dating. this was new territory, and looking back, maybe not a great time to confess such a thing.

but instead of giving any sort of cryptic response, any hesitation, any indication that he might not feel the same way...

he responded immediately.

he gave you a kiss, his lips meeting yours only for a moment before he pulled away and looked you in the eyes with the most golden retriever-esque smile on his face. he pulled you closer, into a cuddle.

and he finally spoke up.

"i love you with all my heart. goodnight, my darling."

divider credits: @cafekitsune @anitalenia @saradika

[starliteradio]

Just posting this Trucoop wip I randomly found and actually kind of liked. Don't know if I'll ever actually finish it but I figured it could live here in case I don't, maybe this'll give me motivation :) The plan was to just swim around in some light angst/wholesomeness.

*

Late February in the Pacific Northwest is generally warm and rainy - it's always rainy - except this morning, a cool, clean light brightens the land. An almost delicate light, like those first tentative days of spring, when one never knows if a storm will blow in again. 

Harry watches beadlets of last night's rain inch their way up the windshield. He'd stepped out into a bright but damp morning, the heavy scent of rain still on the air and thin water streams running down his sleeve as he'd clunked open the door handle of the ‘89 Bronco, the water droplets still clinging to the chrome. 

“Couldn't ask for a better day.” Cooper stood opposite at the hood of the pickup, gazing off towards the first as he often does - seeming to see beyond them. He turned to Harry suddenly, with a spreading grin. “A fine day to get us some trout.”

“Steelies won't know what hit ‘em,” Harry rejoined, ducking into the driver's seat. 

So now Harry drives, wheels spitting gravel on the forest service road, where they pass through the dark overhang of conifers, water droplets catching the light like so many gems. Cooper's silent for the moment, taking a draught from a massive thermos heavy enough to kill someone, then watching dreamlike through the window as the world passes by. Harry's grateful for the quiet truthfully, having tried to drown out the all too consuming noise that's been in his mind. They've said everything they needed to say about the previous few days in any case. 

In all honesty, it had been hard getting out of bed for a day of fishing - but to see someone - a friend - off without sharing the wonders of steelhead season would be simply wrong. Cooper's job here is done, Harry muses again with a strange sense of heaviness. Despite his impending return to DC he looks more than even like he's been cut from the fabric of Twin Peaks, all in flannel and worn pants and wading boots. 

As Harry thinks of that past Tuesday in the office, wrapping up paperwork - names and faces and lives reduced into a stack of files - when Cooper had approached him and asked “How bout that fishing trip?” he knows it was less about Cooper's itch for a round of fly fishing. There'd been that knowing look in his eye as he'd studied the weariness Harry couldn't quite hide. 

A sudden movement suddenly catches Harry's eye, and he brakes just slightly hard to let the gray doe amble past, tail flicking nervously. A second follows moments behind. 

Cooper gives a subtle shake of his head, as though just barely able to believe the wonders of nature. “Just beautiful,” he remarks simply, and takes another sip of coffee.

Harry's seen white tailed deer all his life; they seem as common as mosquitoes here. He finds himself envying that genuine sense of wonder.

*