#▸── I’M TIRED FROM THE CONSTANT CARRY ON // INBOX.

[vrystalius]

I was watching Sanemi's training episode and thought about this ask."Sanemi was training the hunters,his wife called him and all the hunters to have lunch with the delicious food she made,but when the hunters saw Sanemi's wife they were enchanted by her beauty and kindness,how would Sanemi react to seeing the hunters enchanted by his wife's beauty?" (Sorry for my bad english)

❕Sanemi’s reaction to his trainees being enchanted by you

You were kind enough to prepare meals for Sanemi’s students after a long and gruelling training session. They absolutely adore you! How will your husband react?

Note: Thank you so much for requesting. Your english is very good, don’t worry! I have another request in my inbox I’m planning to write and publish today. Sorry for not being very active today.

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

— Sanemi has been letting his assigned slayers suffer. He beat their ass with the wooden training katana until it broke, or until the slayer passed out. If the wooden katana broke before the trainee did, Sanemi made sure to continue with his fists. Is this even proper training anymore? Striking or even coming close to this maniac seemed impossible!!

— You knew that your husband is not holding back with his assigned slayers, and so you prepared beforehand: You had a fully stocked pantry and medical closet. You made sure to grab extra medicine and bandages from the butterfly mansion even before the first slayers arrived, wanted to make sure everyone is surviving Sanemi’s training.

— While Sanemi was taking on his trainees, you were cooking some veggie miso soup with a side of steamed dumplings. While that was brewing, you were making a small batch of ohagi just for Sanemi. It’s also very tiring for him, and you’re sure he’d want something sweet to eat during his break.

— Shortly after pouring the soup into the bowls and arranging the dumplings on side dishes, the first starved and badly bruised slayers arrived. Well, they more likely crawled towards the scent of food.

— While they wolfed down their bowls of veggie miso soup, you carefully tended to their wounds while they were distracted. You dabbed on an ointment and wrapped some bandages around their torso’s, arms and legs, speaking encouraging words to them. After the slayers ate and managed to rest up for a while, they actually realised from who they got all this caring attention from.

“Mrs.Sh-Shinazugawa! You’re an angel! Our saviour!”

“Can I have another bowl of soup? Pleeeaase?”

“My shoulder hurts, can you massage me a little? Pretty please, Mrs.Shinazugawa!!”

— But one question lingered on their minds collectively: How the hell did Sanemi find such an angel of a woman like you?! And how the hell did you agree to marry him? Were you forced? Paid? Beaten into submission?!

— Regardless, more and more of Sanemi’s poor trainees showed up crawling, sobbing or being carried/dragged across the dirt by their mates. They desperately needed nourishment and tending to their wounds, or there will be fatalities. You didn’t know if you were supposed to laugh or cry at the sight.

— Sanemi noticed how more and more of his slayers disappeared. Are they seriously hiding from him? Idiots. He started stomping through the training ground, following the smell of green tea and miso soup. That’s where he found you and almost all of his slayers.

— You tended to almost every single slayer personally, patching them up and giving them encouraging words. Some of his trainees even started following you around, trying to help you out and leave a good impression. Maybe you’ll give them extra portions of food or kind praises? Your voice sounded like a healing melody in comparison to Sanemi’s constant yelling and insults.

— But the peaceful atmosphere of you giving out some leftover miso soup and holding some light conversation with the trainees here and there was interrupted by Sanemi’s yelling.

“You’re all useless!! Ya think hiding behind my wife is allowing you to skip training, hah?! Back to the training grounds, shitheads!!”

— Yes, Sanemi is incredibly angry about his slayers hiding from him, especially crawling to you for safety and respite. But he’s more angry about the fact how they were all trying to get your attention and affections. Sanemi doesn’t mind when you interact with other people, or even men. He gets slightly jealous when men get too comfortable and start flirting with you,but Sanemi trusts you. He will interfere if things get too much though, just like now.

— Sanemi is feeling very jealous right now. He saw how you tended to the slayers. Your fingers were wrapping bandages around their wounds and bruises, and you were being so incredibly gentle and soft. You were blushing at their compliments and thanked them gracefully when they help you out.

— Your gentle touches should only be reserved for *him when you patch him up after a long night. Your hands should only touch *his skin with such carefulness and gentleness, and only Sanemi is supposed to make you blush with his* praises. Not these… good-for-nothing slayers.

— You are not oblivious, and you realised why Sanemi was really shooing them away. That’s exactly why you prepared the small batch of ohagi, just to show him that in the end, he’s the only one that received special treatment and affection from you. Although Sanemi only stops grumbling and complaining to you about his assigned trainees’ behaviour once you give him at least one kiss and some reassurance. But he still gave out severe punishments afterwards.

“Their annoying asses are getting on my damn nerves. I’m gonna have a fucking headache in the evening… soo… cuddles? Later?”

💠

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Anways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[ofsoleanna]

;;; brand new tags bc i dont like my old ones anymore!

general tags

▸── HELLO TO LIFE -- TO EVERYTHING // IC.

▸── A NEW BEGINNING HAD BEGUN WITH YOU // PROMO.

▸── TELL ME WHY I’M HERE -- WHAT’S THE REASON I AM HERE TODAY ? // MUSINGS.

▸── I HAVE YOU IN MY HEART -- IN EVERY BREATH I TAKE // VISAGE -- FRIENDS.

▸── THE MOON LIGHT TO SEE THE WORLD AGAIN AS I’VE NEVER SEEN // AESTHETIC.

▸── I’M TIRED FROM THE CONSTANT CARRY ON // INBOX.

▸── SHOUTING LOUD -- I CAN’T SEE A WAY AHEAD // QUEUE.

▸── I FEAR THE EDGE OF DAWN -- KNOWING TIME BETRAYS // VISAGE.

verse tags

▸── REACH FOR MY HAND -- I’LL SOAR AWAY // VERSE 001.

▸── I LOOK TO YOU LIKE A RED ROSE // VERSE 002.

▸── SEEKING THE SUN NO MATTER WHERE IT GOES // VERSE 003.

▸── SCORCHED BY FLAMES -- A FORCE I CAN’T RUN FROM // VERSE 004.

ship tags

▸── SOMETHING ALWAYS BRINGS ME BACK TO YOU -- IT NEVER TAKES TOO LONG // SONIC X ELISE // STREAKEDBLUE [ VERSE 001. ]

▸── CHERRY OF MY LIFE -- IMPOSSIBLE IF NOT FOR YOU // KENDALL X ELISE // CHAOTICSPEED [ VERSE 002. ]

▸── YOU’VE TAUGHT ME THAT LIFE CAN BE REVIVED // SONIC X ELISE // GLITTCRNGCLD [ VERSE 003. ] 

▸── BECAUSE WITHIN THIS PITCH BLACK DARKNESS -- YOU ARE SHINING SO BRIGHTLY // ZONIC X ELISE // ZONEPOLICING [ VERSE 004. ]

crack / ooc / extra

▸── I LOVE YOUR NEW HAT ! // CRACK.

▸── SHUT YOUR UP PHI ! / OOC.

[crimeronan]

can you talk about chronic illness themes in greywaren pretty please I’m so curious what you thought about the conclusion or lack therof

i've had this in my inbox for weeks and keep thinking about it and like. on the one hand i want to answer on the other hand i don't enjoy spending a lot of time talking about things i don't like. but i think i've nailed down the broad shape of my grievances wrt chronic illness real quick, so here's this and moving on

i think the first 2/3rds of greywaren were perfectly suited in tone to what dreamer trilogy had set up and there were Really good questions raised about matthew and jordan and declan and ronan and hennessy, i also think hennessy's arc (and the ronanessy culmination) was the only one that felt like it actually followed through on the chronic illness themes that had been set up. i was very very interested in jordan's thing about the act of creation keeping her awake, there's some good metaphors about artist survival there, tho ymmv. i know a lot of people with chronic fatigue aren't fond of it bc making art is Tiring and sometimes you Cannot Do It but tbh what i didn't get from jordan i got fine from hennessy so. that's all fine. then the last few chapters of the book take a hard transition into "now i have to wrap this whole universe up prettily to avoid rude tweets" and that apparently meant not having any messiness on the page, which is a shame because complex nuanced messiness is where stiefvater's writing most thrives.

adam and ronan's resolution was boring they didn't fix any of the things that were a problem wrt ronan's chronic illness and adam's Everything, joining souls in space is stupid, they already KNEW they loved each other, the love was not the PROBLEM, the problem was that they were on fundamentally incompatible life paths and loving each other DOES NOT MAKE THOSE COMPATIBLE.

declan and matthew's resolution was nonexistent, i'm actually Very Okay with the whole "matthew walks home" plotline but i needed his POV of that journey and i needed WAY more on the page from declan at the end there and i needed WAY more than "i can be fine relying on you guys bc bryde told me i should" when declan's treatment of matthew up til then had shown NO indication that matthew can EVER trust him.

bryde is the sickest person in the series and his end was far too ambiguous for my taste, especially when up to that point he and matthew had been interrogating the EXACT themes i'd wanted to see about what it means to be a dream and to be this kind of chronically ill. like we were almost somewhere there and then we just dropped everything about.... everything.

meanwhile adam is torn apart on the astral for days and days and days but wakes up fine and then bam, we flip forward 4 years and he's normal and there's no indication of any potential issues even tho there were themes traced all the way back to cdth about him and hennessy having similar chronic illnesses (thru lace metaphor). the epilogue firmly establishes that everyone is Better and that they all have stuff Figured Out Now and while i like knowing where people end up, i don't like a resolution that boils down to "and now we never need to struggle again."

i did not like greywaren's takes (or lack thereof) on chronic illness because it felt like we can't exist in a "joyful comfort read" because chronic illness is Bad and the author wants to avoid nasty tweets about doing Bad Things to characters.

i want to know what greywaren would have been if its main purpose had been to carry thru the series themes instead of to make trc fandom shut up and feel pleased about their blorbos and move on. stief talked about how she had to do a lot of rewriting with the dreamer trilogy up through greywaren bc she was so angry about being sick and. i want the angry book. i want the drafts that weren't pared down and rearranged and cut apart and spliced together to appease every normie person who's never felt constant pain or fatigue a day in their lives. the first two books were for me and will always have been for me, they are The Most Personal Books I Have Ever Consumed, but in order for greywaren to be for me, it would have had to Not be for certain people, and. well.

greywaren is for everyone.

so. shrug emoji. i guess.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

hey, can i request a dom remus x reader smut? like they like each other, reader isn’t afraid of admitting it and remus is very insecure so he pushes her away but she doesn’t give up. so during a party on common room she starts dancing very sexy to make him jealous and he is just like: you are FUCKING mine. i need it to be dirty and nasty don’t be afraid to go wiiiiiild (bdsm elements are welcome 🥺)

HI THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR 3000 YEARS IM SO SORRY. I kinda hate the lead up in this fic but whatever 🙃. This is not proofread

a/n: i kiiinda struggled to make this super kinky w the plot?? Like,,, idk it felt weird to make it hella dirty and wild when it was like, their first time,,, so yeah it isn’t that kinky lmao

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader. Jealous sex, rough sex, spanking, biting, choking, degradation, possessiveness, marking (hickies), liiiiight exhibitionism, alcohol (no drunk sex). Sexy consent. 😌

Music is blaring, countless loud voices ring out in the air, the room is thick with moving bodies as the party rages on in the Gryffindor common room. You sway to the music, swinging your hips and ass, the hand not holding your plastic cup of fire whiskey raised in the air as you dance.

You’d been separated from your group of friends a little while ago- Sirius having rushed away to mooch off James’ harem of girls, who were all over him to congratulate him for his contribution to Gryffindor’s win, and Remus having trailed behind to chaperone. Now you stand alone, acting buzzed despite the single, dainty sip of whiskey you’ve consumed.

You’ve grown tired of the pining, the game of will-we-won’t-we that you’ve been playing with Remus for the duration of the semester. You’re certain he likes you- you’d managed to work it out of James- yet he refuses to acknowledge your mutual affections, seemingly because of his own inhibitions. So you’ve decided to move on, to let loose at the party and forget about Remus.

So, in order to do this, you’ve found yourself quite literally grinding against your dorm mate, who’s laughing along and holding your hips, being egged on by a group of your cheering housemates. As the song comes to an end you step away from your friend, the both of you exchange an amused glance before you make to strut away. You don’t get far, however, as you’re soon colliding with the firm, large form of Remus Lupin himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The boy growls, grabbing your shoulders and holding you out at arms length so he can look into your eyes. You meet his apparent fury with a giggle.

“Sorry, Rem, I just bumped into you!” You respond in a raised voice so the words will carry over the music and constant chatter.

“That’s not what I mean.” Remus says with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “What are you doing dancing like that for everyone?”

“Why? Do you have a problem with it, Remus?” You retort, resting your hands on your hips in a sassy gesture, feeling defensive with his subtle implication that you’re acting indecently. His eyes widen slightly.

“It’s not like that, y/n, I’m not slut shaming you or anything, I just-“ he cuts himself off briefly before seemingly deciding to ignore whatever hesitation overcame him “I’m jealous...”

It’s your turn to widen your eyes now, shocked to hear such a confession from the very boy that refused to admit- or even himself accept- his own feelings for you. As you process the words, a grin forms on your face. This wasn’t the outcome you intended with your suggestive dancing- quite the opposite, actually- but you certainly think it’s coming out in your favor.

“Is that so? You’re jealous, Lupin?” You playfully inquire, stepping towards the boy. “How can that be?What right do you have to be jealous of me when I’m not even yours?” You tease the boy goadingly, cocking your head in an exaggerated show of mock confusion.

Catching on to the fact that you’re not actually offended, Remus hardens again. “Perhaps it’s time I changed that.” His voice has returned to that low growl as he grabs not your hand but your wrist, curling his fingers around it possessively.

Your heart flutters with anticipation as he pulls you along, weaving through the mass of bodies, easily parting the crowd with his large, tall, determined form.

He drags you to his dorm, a thick silence between the both of you the entire way there, the boy never halting until you make it to his doorway. Once there, he turns to face you.

“How much have you had to drink, y/n?” He queries, voice genuine and kind. His care and thoughtfulness makes you like him all the more deeply.

“Only a sip, Rem.” You respond, holding your nearly full plastic cup out for him to see. “This was my first drink, ‘n I’ve hardly have any of it.” The boy peers into your cup before giving a nod, seeming satisfied with your response. Then his eyes are back on yours, warm and gentle.

“Are you okay with this, y/n? Do you want to go through with this?”

“I do, Remus. Terribly so.” You respond eagerly.

“Alright.” The boy smiles sweetly, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If you change your mind at any time just tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I will. I promise.” You verify your consent, which seems to be all the boy needs as his eyes darken immediately after.

“Good.” That familiar growl is back, and his fingers abandon your chin to grip tightly at your jaw. “Because I’m going to make you mine.”

With that he pulls you inside swiftly, swinging the door shut behind you and locking it with a practiced ease that makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before- the thought briefly turning you jealous.

Such feelings are quickly forgotten, however, as he turns to you and his hands find the hem of your top, pulling upwards and working the garment off you. You’re both a jumble of rapidly moving fingers and anxiously panting breaths as you work one another out of your outfits, more than eager to get right down to what you’ve both been waiting far too long for.

The moment he has you undressed Remus is shoving you backwards by your shoulders, and you find yourself falling onto the mattress of his twin bed, bare breasts bouncing on impact. You can’t miss the way his eyes rake over you hungrily, pausing on their downwards journey to watch your tits sway, taking in each and every inch of your exposed skin as if trying to commit it to memory. The attention makes your stomach do cartwheels and arousal course thickly through your veins.

“Fuck, bunny, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Remus growls, stalking towards you almost predatorily. “I had myself convinced you should find someone better. But now, after seein’ everyone’s eyes on you, I’m feeling selfish.” He reaches the bed then, crawling onto it so his body is above yours. When he speaks next, his voice is a low, possessive whisper. “I don’t want anyone having you except me.” The words make you shiver.

“I don’t want anyone else to have me except for you, Remus.” You murmur, looking into his wild eyes genuinely.

“Good. Then let’s show everyone else who you belong to, hm? I’m going to make you scream for me.” The boy rumbles lowly, leaning down to connect his lips to yours.

Your head swims at his heady, masculine, though subtly sweet flavor, the taste intoxicating as it brings a fog to settle in your mind much like alcohol would. His mouth moves surely, roughly, taking complete control over your nearly lax lips as his tongue intrudes past them and explores the cavern within.

You’re already left breathless by the intense kiss, but you’re gasping ever more as his canines dig into the soft pillows of your lips, just enough to hurt in a way that’s entirely pleasurable. He’s swallowing your high whines and whimpers and runs a hand down your side, the touch making you shiver, while his other arm is braced beside your head and supporting his lanky frame above you.

When he pulls back he leaves you reeling, and you plan to beg him to return his lips to yours the moment you catch your breath. That plan changes, however, as the boy’s hand leaves your side and he spits into his palm, bringing the lubricated surface down to stroke over the velvety skin of his shaft. You watch, wide eyed -nearly drooling- as the boy pumps his long, impressive cock. A cocky grin graces Remus’s lips when he catches you staring longingly.

“Like what you see, doll? Hm?” He inquires teasingly, confident that he knows the answer. Nevertheless you respond with a nod.

“Yes, Remus,” your voice comes out breathless and dreamy, “Please- I want you.” You plead, reaching out to trail your fingers along his shoulders, your hands looking dainty with his broadness as a backdrop.

“Yeah? You desperate for me already, slut?” The boy murmurs, and you can tell as his eyes search yours that he’s checking you for any signs of discomfort or offense at the words. He finds none, however, as your eyes widen and a soft moan leaves your lips, the degradation fueling your mounting arousal. You nod at him.

“Say it, then. Say you’re a desperate slut. Beg me to fuck you.” He growls out, looking down at you with a disdain so convincing that if you didn’t know better you may truly think he’s disgusted by your desperation.

Despite your roiling desire you just can’t bring yourself to utter the filthy admittance, your lips parting in a pathetic attempt at repeating the words back to Remus, but no sound comes out. You just stare up at the boy- wide eyed and silent- as he glowers down at you.

His hand comes up quickly-his long, ring clad fingers curling around the column of your throat and squeezing just enough to serve as a teasing threat of having your air cut off. The gesture makes your cunt throb.

“Say it.” Remus orders, voice more deep and commanding than you’ve ever heard it. Not having it in you to deny the dominant boy you swallow your nerves that present themselves as a thick lump in your throat.

“I-I’m a desperate slut, Remus.” your trepidation makes the words come out stuttered. “Please fuck me, I want it so bad, please.” You worry it won’t be good enough- your desperation so intense that the thought of being denied his cock any longer nearly physically pains you- but to your relief, he seems satisfied with your plea.

“Good girl.” A toothy grin accompanies the praise as Remus basks in your show of submission. His hand leaves your throat- leaves you momentarily disappointed- until you see it find his cock once more, and after a couple readying pumps, he lines up with your entrance.

As you’d expected with the boy’s demeanor thus far, he gives you little warning, and little time to prepare, before he’s driving forward. He sheathes himself inside you in one quick thrust, his large cock stretching your walls with just the slightest twinge of delicious pain. You cry out at the blissful intrusion, hands coming up to grip the firm, lean muscle of Remus’s shoulders.

He starts pounding into you, his hips snapping at a brutal pace from the start, knocking the air from your longs and sending jolts of pure pleasure through you as his tip prods at your g-spot and his pelvic bone brushes against your clit.

“Fuck, bunny, you like that?” Remus groans out as lewd, desperate, cries spill from your lips, the continuous sound broken up only by his rough thrusts. “You like having your slutty cunt destroyed? Hm? Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this, have they?” He growls, the teasing words coupled with his low tone making you moan.

“No, Remus, never- fuck, I’ve never been fucked this good.” You respond breathlessly, and you’re surprised by the accuracy of the words, as you’ve truly never experienced something like this. Remus’s quickly pistoning hips and dominant nature melding into the perfect euphoric experience.

Your agreement seems to flip some switch in Remus, as the boy turns from rough to what can only be described as feral. He drops down to his elbows, his arms braced on either side of your skull as he supports himself above you, his lips coming down to nip and suck harshly at the tender flesh of your neck and jaw. The sensation of his teeth and lips on your heated skin is indescribable, his skilled mouth coaxing your blood to the surface and painting your flesh in alluring shades of purple and blue.

Your pleasure is heightened by the deep, gravelly, animalistic growls and grunts that leave the boy’s throat, his warm breath ghosting over your ear along with the rumbling vibrations of his low tone. High, salacious whines and moans of your own mingle with his noises, creating a symphony of harmonized sounds that can surely be heard from at least down the hall.

“That’s it, doll, moan for me. Let everyone hear how good I fuck you, how good I make you feel.” Remus murmurs gruffly, the slapping sound of his hips as they meet yours adding to the consonance. His pointy canines dig into the flesh of your shoulder then, causing you to follow the boy’s instructions and increase the volume of your moans. You’re distantly aware that others will surely hear you- and while it brings twinges of embarrassment to your lust clouded mind, the amount it churns the arousal in your belly far outweighs any inhibitions you may have.

Eventually Remus’s hips start to stutter, his breathing grows more ragged and his groans more strained as he approaches his peak. Your own pleasure is quickly mounting right along with his, the stimulation to your mind, neck, and pussy bringing you towards your release. It grows ever faster when the boy’s lean hand returns around your throat, fingers squeezing minutely.

“You gonna cum, bunny? Gonna cum on my cock?” Remus taunts, his voice course and gravelly and sounding like pure sex. “Come on, show me how fucking sexy you look falling apart.”

With that command you fall off the edge, cascading down from the clouds of pleasure in a euphoric free fall that has your mind blissfully blank as your body’s overwhelmed with indescribable feeling. Just as the boy wanted you release a loud, long, pornographic moan, though the sound isn’t at all for his benefit. You’re so overcome by pleasure and sensation that the cry is torn from your throat completely of its own accord- you couldn’t have kept quiet if you’d tried.

“That’s it, doll, fuck!” Remus grits out through clenched teeth, the image of you beneath him, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, lips slack as noise spills from them enough to finish him off. Driving into you hard one last time, his tip hitting your cervix, the first spurts of his cum shoot into your constricting pussy. You let out a softer moan at the erotic sensation of his seed filling you, gripping at the boy’s shoulders to tug him down and connect his lips to yours.

He still controls this kiss, though his lips are more lax than before in his post-orgasmic state. You bask in the feeling of his tongue, the taste of his saliva, his balmy form pressed against yours as he lays gently atop you, softening cock still nestled in your channel. When he finally pulls away, you’re both still panting from the exertion, and his eyes still hold remnants of that possessive fire.

“Nobody else gets to see you like that.”

taglist: @whizzbeesdukes @sweetlyblushedboquet @snapesdaughsjm @kyleed24 @woman-with-no-name @barneswidow @randomoutsiders @fandom-puff @spxllcxstxr @frecklesandfirecrackers @layaaaa @wholebigboxofyikes @fific7 @love-peachh @pandaxnienke @weasleyposts @sw33tgirl

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

I’m just thinking of a headcannon where Jacob’s wife is pregnant and gets ridiculous food cravings, so she tells Mr Frye to go find it for her.

No matter what time of day it is either. 😂

He of course goes to every grocer in London looking for whatever it is she craves, running over rooftops to get place to place for her.

“Lad I know it’s late but…I really need pickled herring if I don’t get it my lady will have my bullocks”

Hi there, @b3k1720 ! Forgive me for this late reply, but between my constant presence in Purgatory (aka IRL Job, ugh) and finding time for the hubby and the little one, I got asked piled up in my inbox! But, this is freaking hilarious and I can see this happening so much! Jacob is a considerate husband and would truly do his best to satisfy his wife's craving and whatever the little one growing in her belly might need, truly going above and beyond to make sure that both wife and child are at absolute comfort. ------------------ "Love, I'm home!" Jacob said, taking off his boots the moment he had passed the house's threshold. He took particular care in not leaving muddy footprints around: during winter it was inevitable, with the rain rendering the streets a whole mess, but his wife's belly had grown so much that she had a difficult time even breathing when she slept: no way he would have her bend and clean up after his mess, if he can avoid it. "Love?" he called again, when he heard no response coming from within the rooms. Furrowing his brows, he couldn't help but feel his heart racing in his chest, as he strided inside the house looking for her. He tried with all his might not to let his mind fly directly to the worse thoughts. There surely was a reason for her not to answer him directly. Maybe she is napping?, he reasoned with himself. It wasn't that late that she might be sleeping already, but he hoped that to be the reason for her lack of response to his greeting. Jacob Frye, who would have ever thought you to become a mother hen?,he remembered her giggling, after he had instructed some of his Rooks to accompany her to the market. Maybe it was true. Maybe, after discovering that his sweet love was carrying his child, he had verged into overprotective territories. After she pointed that out, he had tried as much as he could to rein it in. But still. Caution was never enough. Not with the lifestyle he lived, not when his wife's and child's lives were at stake. "Love?" he called a third time, as he crossed into the parlour.

"I'm here, Jacob" he heard her quiet, calm voice the moment he saw her sitting on the armchair, her feet up from the floor resting on a footrest. Waves of relief washed upon him, as a smile as bright as a sunny day opened on his face. "Why didn't you answer me, love?" he asked, kneeling at her side, his hands immediately on her belly to feel their child within. "I am sorry, Jacob," she said, with an apologectic smile. "I was so immersed in knitting that I was an entire world away," He chuckled, kissing her forehead with gentleness. "How is this rascal behaving?" "A rascal indeed. He couldn't find a moment of rest until five minutest ago. He has taken my bladder for his ballroom floor!" Chuckling, Jacob nuzzled the soft bump, giving it a kiss as delicate as a butterfly's wing.

"How is the situation in the borough?" he heard her asking, taking his top hat and planting it on her own head. He chuckeld again. "Much better than it was this morning. And now that you're the Rooks Leader," he joked pointing at the hat, "much safer," "Oh? So I got a promotion, eh?" "To be fair, we're both about to get one," he rested his face against his wife's hand when she caressed his cheek and chuckling, he kissed the bump once more. "How are you feeling?" "Tired," she admitted, and he could see it in her face. Jacob leaned over to give her a gentle peck on her lips. He had never been that good with words, but he hoped that through that kiss, she might feel all the gratitude he felt for everything she was doing for their child. "Have you eaten anything?" He asked, pressing another kiss to the tips of her fingertips.

"Not yet...to be honest, I was waiting for you to come home," she said, quietly.

He knitted his eyebrows, confused: he wasn't the best cook; no way she was missing his cooking. Granted, he had gladly fixed her some sandwiches in the days she couldn't leave their bed, but still, that was all that was in his range of doing.

Unless....

He looked up to her face, and saw her lips stretched in a bashful smile. Uh-oh. He knew all too well what it meant. "Well, m'lady: what's your pleasure, today? Or rather, what's your craving?" he chuckled, kissing her hand and standing up. "Cherries," he heard her murmuring timidly. His smile almost dropped. Cherries? In January?

Then he recovered his smile. He would find them somewhere, if he had to comb London street by street. He always managed, in the end. "I'll do my best to find what you need, love," he murmured. He leaned once more to kiss her sweet lips, cradling her face in his hands. He didn't want to go out again, and the cold weather had nothing to do with it. He wanted to be by her side, resting in her lap while feeling their child move and kick and nudge against the soft belly. "I'm sorry," he heard her saying, with a sad voice. "Nonsense, love." he chuckled against her lips. "You know I'd do anything for you and that little gangster you carry in your belly," "What would we do without you?" she smiled, grateful. "Remaining cherry-less," he joked, knowing he sounded absolutely corny. But her laughter at his joke was the most delightful sound. "Thank you, Jacob," he heard her murmur, wrapping her arms around his shoulder. "No, love....," he whispered back. "Thank you. For the family you are giving me."

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

SORRY FOR THIS DRABBLE. I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT CAME FROM.

BUT HOPEFULLY IT'S OK. (gods I feel rusty as hell)

Thank you for the ask, my friend! This was fun!

--NEMO

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, ��Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[bunnie-the-lighthouse]

𝒫𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝒰𝓈~

Pairing: ATEEZ Choi San, ATEEZ Jung Woo-Young & Reader

Warnings: The Kinkiest And Most Suggestive Thing I Have Possibly Done. Kinda Long Too (I Think). This Is Kinda Experimental, I Made The Reader Dominant And It’s The First Time I’ve Honestly Done That. If You Don’t Feel Comfortable At Any Point Of The Reading -- Do Not Continue. 

Inspiration: Constant State Of Ded + Constant Loss of Braincells.

Basic Idea: Kinda Cursed. San, Woo-Young, And You Have An Established Polyamorous Relationship. They Go Back Home Exhausted And Demand To Be Pampered. But Make It ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

Type: Suggestive (The Suggestive Overpowers The Fluff.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Wait, isn’t it like this instead?” San danced slowly in order to show Yun-Ho bit by bit how he remembered the performance to bit, “No, no, before the hip thrust you have to stand still, cross your arms over your face, and…” Yun-Ho trailed off and showed San the move.

“Ah!… Ok, ok,” San said as he then copied Yun-Ho’s move. He then practiced a bit more in order to engrave the pattern in his brain. Afterward, he sat down on the floor, panting out — tired from having to control every bit of his body in order to execute the dance correctly.

“Tired?” a voice asked as San looked up and saw Woo-Young sitting down next to him. “Yeah…” he whimpered out while laying down. Woo-Young then patted San’s head softly, “We’re almost done,” he reassures as the other nods.

The entire group then did one last final practice, San going down hard while Woo-Young made sure that his moves showcased his vibe while also making sure that movements were sharp enough.

Soon after practice, San and Woo-Young were on their way back home. Woo-Young leaning on San’s shoulder as San leaned his head on Woo-Young’s. They were both exhausted and beat, their muscles aching after practice — it was a harder dance than Fireworks, for God’s sake.

“San-Ah, Woo-Young-Ah, we’re here,” their manager called as the two woke up from their short nap. “Ah… Thank you Manager-Nim,” San thanked as Woo-Young bowed his head.

The two then sluggishly went into the apartment complex, going up to the third floor, where your shared apartment was.

You were sitting in bed, reading a book. You got a little carried away, not noticing that it was already two AM — you couldn’t deny — that was an addictive book. Shocked at the time you quickly placed the book away reluctantly, placing it on the nightstand as you stretched in order to relieve your muscles from staying in the same position for hours.

The door lock then chimed, signaling that the door was unlocked. You then decided to wait for the boys to enter the room, to see them before you fell asleep.

“_____-ie?” Woo-Young asked as you waved, “Hi guys, tired?” you asked as they both were pouting. San nodded as Woo-Young immediately crashed on the bed, face first. “Young-Ah?” you asked worriedly while crawling over to put your hand on his back.

“We’re tired~” San whined while sitting down on the floor grumpily, like a toddler throwing a mild tantrum. You smile while shaking your head, amused at the scene.

“Come, I’ll cuddle you,” you said while sitting back down on the bed as the two scrambled over to you. San hugged your waist while Woo-Young laid his head on your lap, as it was more accessible when he rolled over.

You then played with their hair, that is until Woo-Young looked at you. 

“Can you pamper us?… I had a dream the other day…” 

He trails off while tiredly tugging on your shirt, “What is it, Young-Ah?” you asked as he then whines.

While you were trying to figure out what Woo-Young wanted, San groaned, catching your attention. “Sannie?” you asked as he then made you lean back, raising your shirt up.

Blood flew to your cheeks as you gasped, “Sannie?” you asked again with a slightly concerned tone as he then blinks slowly and attaches his lips to your breast, sucking on it softly as you squeal softly.

As San pulls back, Woo-Young musters up some strength to pull you down, so that you lay down on bed. You squeak at his move as he then licks your sensitive bud, to later suck on it. San does the same on your other as you then realize.

They wanted to be breastfed...

Moaning and whimpering while sucking on your breast, a motherly essence overwhelmed you. “There, there, no one is going to steal from you two,” you said while running your hands through their hair.

San mews at you softly, as his tongue flicks your bud. Woo-Young then pulls away and trails kitten licks from your collarbone to your neck. Meanwhile, San also started to take off his shirt and unbutton his pants.

Woo-Young then crashed his lips onto yours as you moaned in the kiss. It was sloppy, but it definitely turned you as he rubbed circles on your tummy. San then nips your bud, making you gasp with pleasure. He then holds onto your hand and trails it onto his toned abdomen.

Woo-Young pulled away from the kiss, taking off his shirt. As San guided your hand to his buddy, the other looking at his partner mischievously. “Mommy.. Please,” San whimpered out as you coo, wrapping your hand around his friend. Woo-Young then pouts and crosses his arms, whining.

“Why does he get more pampered than me, mommy? Don’t you love me too? Mommy~ Please pamper me too~”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hi Everyone. 

I want to commit auto-dead.

This is like one of the kinkiest and dirtiest things I’ve typed, I honestly feel fjaskdlfjalsd about it. 

Kinda worried how people are gonna react.  Kinda worried if I should even keep this.  Kinda worried if I’m going to get killed.  Not gonna lie. I just feel *ouch*. 

I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable by the way! It’s the first time I’m typing a Dominant Reader imagine so, it’s kinda an experiment for me. (I am a sub... And it’s embarrassing to say that lol).

Please do tell me if this is too much. I’ll immediately get to deleting the post if I see that it is making lots of people uncomfortable. 

And I am sorry for being offline for some time -- I have been... Procrastinating in everything lol. 

I also have been using some of my time to work on assignments -- both for the Summer Program and a Summer Assignment. 

They are both quite lengthy, so please bear with me. (╥﹏╥)

I do have some other stuff in store, so do not worry! 

On the other bright side, we also reached 100 fellas! 100 of y’all followed me and T_T it makes me emotional. 

Thank you so much for supporting me in this small hobby of mine, it really makes me happy to know that y’all are enjoying the stuff I type :D

If there are any requests, the inbox is open! 

Have a great day y’all, stay safe, drink water, eat, take breaks!

I’ll catch y’all next time!

[t0wnspersonb]

Sleepless Nights (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hi hi hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could request a fic with giving kageyama a blow job for the first time? You can take it further if you want, whatever you want! Love your writing 😊

~~~~

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,973

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (male recieving), language, Kageyama being a perfect angel baby.

~~~~

I didn’t think that I was a simp for Kageyama but like maybe...?👀👀👀 I hope that you guys like it! It was a lot of fun writing lmao. Also bonus points if you can catch the reference I made😂 I’m still shuffling through my inbox, I won’t be doing all the requests that have been asked but I will still be doing a select few. Please enjoy:)

~~~~

You shifted nervously in your seat, weakly smiling at the orange haired male that was blatantly staring you down.

 This was incredibly awkward.

 “Stop staring at her dumbass!” Kageyama growled, setting down his milk cartoon to slap the middle blocker, who easily dodged his advances. 

 “Why are you dating Kageyama!? He’s a bad guy!” Hinata yelled getting in your face.

 “OI!” Kageyama grabbed the back of his uniform, yanking him away from you.

 You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement, a bad guy? Kageyama was far from it.

 “I really like him.” you blurted out, pausing their fighting, the tall setter looked at you with a shocked face, blush coating his cheeks in embarrassment. Hinata on the other hand looked mortified at your statement. “He’s very kind and strong.” you finished, glancing down at your bento, now you were embarrassed at your confession.

 “He’s not kind at all! But he is strong! His tosses are the best!” Hinata declared, returning his attention to his large sandwich.

 Kageyama ignored him, his blue eyes focusing on you completely. You guys had only been dating for a couple of weeks but… those past couple of weeks he’s never been happier.

 You were in the same class as Yachi, but the store that he went to often was the same store that you worked at part time. Before you knew it, a friendship began to blossom between the two of you, and then you guys literally ran into each other during a morning run.

 Come to find out that you guys went to the same school and were in the same year. Although, you were completely unaware of the tall male and his club activities. You were on the swim team, on the complete opposite side of where the volleyball gym was.

 But after that friendship began to bloom, something new took its place. Something more vibrant, and far sweeter.

 You were the first one to confess your feelings, despite the nerves, despite the fear that he wasn’t going to feel the same. You knew how hard he worked at volleyball, you figured that he wouldn’t have time in his life for a girlfriend, but the secret ate you up inside. When you had confessed, you were already prepared for the rejection that he would give you, only it never came. 

 He liked you too.

 Naturally you guys began dating, and it was pure heaven. Despite his awkwardness, things slowly became more natural. It wasn’t until now that he started to introduce you to his friends. 

 Hence the strange interaction you just had with the middle blocker.

 “Is Y/n-chan going to come to the game tomorrow?” Hinata asked with his mouth full of food.

 You perked up at that, beaming at the small male. “I am! It’ll be my first time seeing a volleyball game! I’m very excited.”

 “Eh!? You’ve never seen a volleyball game before!? What have you been doing!?” Hinata exclaimed.

 Kageyama scowled at him. “Y/n isn’t a volleyball player. She’s on the swim team, she doesn’t have time to focus on volleyball like you do dumbass.”

 Before another fight between the two began you started talking. “I’ve never been interested in the sport. I’ve always been really busy with swim meets and fundraisers. But when Tobio talks about volleyball it sounds like a lot of fun! Your team sounds so strong!” You said brightly.

 Kageyama felt his heart thump harder in his chest at your praise. The clear happiness and excitement on your face was undeniably adorable. 

 “What do you do when you swim Y/n-chan!?” Hinata asked excitedly.

 “I only swim free.” You said proudly, grinning at the smaller male. “It’s the only style I swim during meets.”

 “She’s really good too.” Kageyama stated, thinking back when he had gone to his first ever swim meet. You were incredible in the water, breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you swam, you were elegant and beautiful, your movements gliding through the water easily.

 He had never seen anything more perfect before.

 “I don’t know what that means but it sounds cool! You’re cool Y/n-chan!” Hinata said brightly.

 You couldn’t help but grin back, all traces of awkwardness gone now. “Thanks, Hinata!”

 Lunch ended without a hitch now, the conversation was easy with Hinata, despite the constant fighting, it was incredibly fun.

 Before you could head back to class Kageyama grabbed your hand gently. He stared off into the distance, blushing softly as he glanced over to you quickly. 

 “Will you wait for me after practice?” he asked.

 You squeezed his hand carefully, ignoring your racing heart. “Of course! Let’s walk home together Tobio.” you smiled sweetly.

 He nodded once before releasing your hand and walking off; Hinata was already long gone by now.

 You smiled softly to yourself, the tall setter had a hold on your heart like no other. You couldn’t wait for the game on Saturday.

 ****

 As promised, you stood outside of the volleyball gym, kicking lightly at a rock near your foot.

 “Y/n-chan!” you heard a familiar voice call out, you looked up smiling at the orange haired male jumping and waving his arms around, several others looking at you in curiosity.

 “Shut up Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama growled grabbing his head. After a couple of shoves, Kageyama made his way over to you.

 “Ready?” you asked sweetly, beaming up at the tall setter. He felt his face flush but nodded, reaching to carry your bag.

 “Yeah let’s go.” he said, slugging it over his other shoulder before taking your small hand into his own.

 “What? Is that Kageyama’s girlfriend?” Tsukishima asked, intending for it to be a joke.

 “Yeah! She’s super cool!” Hinata said excitedly. “Y/n-chan is on the swim team! She only swims free! Whatever that means!”

 “... WAIT WHAT!?”

 “KAGEYAMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME!?”

 “BUT SHE’S TOO CUTE!”

 “THE UNIVERSE HAS FORSAKEN ME!”

 “SHUT UP AND GO HOME EVERYONE!”

 “... Yes Daichi.”

 ****

 Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that your hand was cool, and that your hair was still wet from your swim practice.

 “Are you cold?” he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

 You shook your head. “I’m fine. Besides, we're already at my house.” 

 You looked up at the dark-haired setter who was scratching the back of his head, not meeting your gaze. 

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally looking at you, his face slightly flushed. 

 “Bright and early. You’ll do great.” You smiled, hands resting on his uniform. “Sleep well?”

 He nodded and stooped down as you stood up on your tiptoes, his slightly chapped lips gently brushing against yours before sealing your lips in a gentle kiss goodnight.

 This wasn’t your first kiss with Kageyama. Surprisingly, kisses came incredibly easy for the awkward setter. He loved how soft your lips were, and how he could taste the melon lip gloss on his lips afterwards.

 Your heart raced in your chest, and you were tempted to pull him in deeper, wanting the kiss to develop more and last longer, but all too soon he pulled away, giving you a soft smile before taking his leave.

 That boy was going to be the death of you.

 The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, and you soon found yourself freshly showered and ready for bed. 

 Practice must’ve been incredibly draining for you, because as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

 It had to be at least three in morning when your phone began to ring. You sleepily fumbled around for it before squinting at the bright screen.

 Kageyama.

 “Hello?” you answered, voice thick with sleep.

 “I’m sorry for waking you.” he said softly. “I just couldn’t sleep. Is it okay if I come over?”

 “Yeah. Let me open my window.” you mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, turning on your bedside lamp before shuffling yourself out of bed to open the window. 

 This also wasn’t the first time you’ve done this either. 

 Even before you guys had started dating, Kageyama frequented your bedroom many nights to hang out.

 You could barely keep your eyes open as you waited for Kageyama to show up, it had been about fifteen minutes before you saw a familiar figure slip through the open window and quietly close it behind him.

 You gave Kageyama a sleepy smile from your bed, noticing his grey sweatpants and black pullover. He looked good, incredibly good.

 You hadn’t noticed his sharp intake of breath. Kageyama swallowed thickly as he took in your sleepy appearance. Your hair was tousled from sleep, the baggy white shirt did nothing to hide your hardened nipples that were now straining against the thin fabric from the frigid air. Your soft legs were incredibly exposed to his eyes and… oh fuck, your pink colored panties were on full display now.

 “Why can’t you sleep?” you asked, yawning, stretching your arms above your head. This caused your shirt to pull up more, revealing the delicate white bow on the front of your panties.

 Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pants tightening ever so slightly.

 “T-Too pent up for the game tomorrow.” he said, finally snapping his eyes away from your figure. 

 His palms were incredibly sweaty at this point, blood roaring in his ears as he attempted to calm his racing heart. 

 “I see.” you said tiredly. “Well we can play a game on the console until you feel tired.” you stretched your body out on the bed as you reached for your side table drawer, your upper body lying flat, your bottom swaying slightly in the air.

 Kageyama’s eyes zeroed in on your ass, the panties hugging your cheeks perfectly, and the urge to grab at those perfect mounds of flesh caused his fingers to twitch at his sides.

 This definitely wasn’t good, because now he was pent up for an entirely different thing.

 “Here it is.” you mumbled to yourself, completely unaware of the internal conflict that was going on in front of you. You looked over at him, sitting up on your knees and patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Come here.”

 He sat down next to you stiffly, carefully resting his back against the wall. 

 “Get comfortable Tobio.” you said in amusement, yawning once more. He nodded robotically as he situated himself a bit better on the bed, making sure to rest his legs in a position that prevented you from seeing the increasing tent in his pants.

 You handed him the game, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing as he started playing.

 He had only begun playing for a couple of minutes before your eyes began to droop in exhaustion, you wrapped your arms around his bicep as you settled against him comfortably.

 But he could feel your breasts pressing into his arm, his character dying in the game as he started to focus more on you.

 While your relationship was still relatively new, you guys definitely weren’t strangers to cuddling or gentle touches.

 Kageyama was definitely familiar with the desire that was now coursing through his veins. The first time he had experienced this was the first time he had gone to your swim meet. While the swimsuit that you wore wasn’t necessarily the most flattering thing, you were definitely beautiful, and the revealed skin of your body did something to him.

 “Y/n,” he whispered, causing your head to jerk up as you were startled awake. But before you could even process what was happening, Kageyama tossed the gaming console at the edge of the bed, twisting his body slightly as he moved to cup your face, and pressing his mouth against yours.

 A noise of surprise was made in the back of your throat, but you kissed him back. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into you. The tiredness you were feeling began fading away, want and need seeping into your body now. 

 The kiss developed quickly, your tongue carefully tracing his lips before they parted in surprise. Your fingers were twisting in his black hair now as you pulled him in deeper. Your tongue massaging his, in a hot, slippery mess. 

 One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, keeping you to him, while the other was placed carefully on your waist. 

 This wasn’t enough though. You needed more. Carefully you swung your leg over his hip, maneuvering yourself so that you were now straddling him, your core pressing directly into his crotch.

 And that's when you felt it, a growing hardness that began pressing against you in your most intimate areas. 

 Kageyama ripped himself away from your lips, his expression dazed as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry.” he breathed out. 

 You ignored him and carefully grinded your hips down against him, wanting more. A choked sound escaped his swollen lips, his hands darting out to grip your hips tightly, preventing you from moving further against him.

 “What are you doing?” he panted, his pants were incredibly tight like his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

 “Let me.” You whimpered, tugging at his hands. “Let me help. Let me take care of you.”

 You scrambled out of his lap, his face confused and dazed as you settled yourself between his legs. Your hands gently ran up and down his strong thighs, you could feel the muscles flexing under your sweet touch. 

 “You want to sleep right? I’ll make you tired.” You whispered and started tugging at his pants. You didn’t know what came over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to see Kageyama unravel before you. You wanted to hear more of those noises escape his lips.

 “W-Wait.” he grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide eyes. “Are you… what are you -” “trust me.” you interrupted him, “I’ll make you feel so good Tobio, please?”

 The pleading that was escaping your lips made you feel a bit pathetic, but that feeling was overshadowed by the complete need to make him feel good.

 He stared at you for a bit longer before nodding, his hands released yours as you pushed his pullover up slightly, working his pants and underwear over his hips and then… fuck. Your mouth watered at the sight. His member contrasted beautifully with the hard lines of his lower stomach; the splatter of dark hair caused your stomach to twist pleasantly. Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, the skin soft and hot beneath your fingers.

 Kageyama’s breath became more labored, coming out in short and quick pants. His eyes fluttering shut at your touch. 

 You stared in awe as you began stroking him up and down carefully, his cock pulsing in your hand. 

 You wondered… your tongue darted out, flicking softly at the swollen head, tasting the bitterness of the leaking precum.

 A strangled groan escaped Kageyama’s mouth, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. Your eyes flickered up to look at him.

 Fuck. You had always thought that Kageyama was beautiful, but this time.... You wanted to burn that image of him into your mind forever.

 His eyes were half-lidded, the pupils blown completely, sweat stuck to his skin causing his hair to cling to his forehead. His cheeks flushed a beautiful red, his lips parted and swollen from his constant biting.

 He was perfect.

 You ignored the hand that was gripping your wrist and lowered your mouth further onto the head of his cock. He flinched, body shuddering as you started sinking down lower. Your mouth was like a furnace, hot and wet, Kageyama didn’t think he could get any harder than he was.

 “W-What are you doing?” he choked out, reaching to pull you off his member. “Y-You shouldn’t put that in your -” you started swirling your tongue against his head. He whimpered loudly, biting at the neckline of his pullover, muffling the sounds that started to pour from his lips.

 You started moving, slowly dragging your mouth up and down, your tongue dragging against the underside of his cock. You continued this movement for a moment, before increasing the pace, and sucking harder.

 His hips thrusted up in a short and tight movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden touch, felt tears sting at your eyes, but it was worth it.

 His long fingers carefully reached down and dragged gently against your cheek, he was staring at you, pleasure contorting his face beautifully.

 “You’re so pretty.” he breathed out, his breath getting caught in his throat as you began flicking your tongue rapidly against his head now.

 “I… ngh… I’m not - not gonna last… l-long.” he stuttered out. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, and then you began to feel thick spurts of cum hit your tongue, you hummed softly at the taste of him, easily swallowing his load down your throat. 

 Carefully you pulled your mouth off of his softening member, watching him as he struggled to breathe, his eyes were screwed shut still, his brows furrowed.

 “Tired?” you asked softly, your hand gentling rubbing against one of his locked thighs. His eyes fluttered open, staring at you in awe. He nodded softly before tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his clothes. 

 He held an arm out to you wordlessly, your body easily tucking into his side as you guys laid on your bed. His scent wafting into your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut, you were tired now too.

 “I think… now I’ll be able to win my game tomorrow.” he said quietly after a moment. 

 Your lips twitched into a smile as you pressed your face deeper into his chest.

 “Go to sleep Tobio.”

[disgruntledspacedad]

I think I just had a massive paradigm shift. 

So, we all kind of understand that humans have this constant need for validation. We all like to pretend we don’t, to brush this need beneath the rug and carry on with our bullshit like each of us aren’t screaming to be acknowledged. 

To be seen. 

To be known.

Guys, I think this is part of what love is. To be loved is to be known. It’s to be acknowledged at the most intimate level and validated at our core. And sometimes, I think that I am so caught up in my need to be seen, or more likely, the fact that my deepest fear is that this need will not be met - rejection, isolation, and preemptive retaliation - that I close myself off from the ability to see others. 

Let me try to give you an example. Trigger warning for mentions of guns (hunting rifles), deer hunting, mental health, and suicide. 

Yes, this is another Dead Dad post. 

Today, I was going through some backlogged emails. With all of my life bullshit, I had let the inbox get a little cluttered, and it was time to clean house. 

I stumbled across an email from Dad. He’d sent it two weeks before he died. The subject was, “My Life, My Lot.”

Listen, if you think I am melodramatic... lol, the genetics are strong here, okay? 

Okay.

I opened it, and guys, my Dad had documented his entire life story. I won’t go into details, but there were so many things written there that I didn’t know about him. I’ll be honest, I had a little breakdown and couldn’t finish reading it. Not today. Today is his birthday, actually, and the universe just dropped this very painful, very beautiful gift in my lap.

It brought me back to a phone conversation that we’d had before he died. He’d been bitching about his group therapy class, about how the projects were silly and the questions were shallow. “Fuck a therapist,” I remember him saying very vehemently. He did mention to me, though, that his therapist had suggested writing about his struggles. He was reluctant, naturally. Dad was always very reluctant about ideas that weren’t his own.

I was deep in my Better Love shit by this point, and he only brought it up because he knew I was “a writer.” I jumped on this. “It might be good for you,” I told him. “It might help you. Sure as fuck helps me.”

The next time we spoke, the next day, he was actually pretty excited, a tone that I had long since only associated with opiates. I was skeptical - what are they medicating him with now? I wondered. I only half listened as he began to tell me about his group session.

Guys, he had written some of his story, and he’d read it aloud in group. 

I perked up at this. “What did they say?” 

Apparently they loved it. I was proud of him. I asked him to read it to me, and he started to. 

Guys, it was incredible. My Dad could really turn a phrase, and I’d never known this about him. His use of imagery and metaphor really shocked me. I was impressed and I told him so. “That makes me feel really good, to hear you say that,” he said. 

Looking back, that’s the most validation I ever received from my Dad. The fact that he considered me a writer, and that my opinion mattered to him. Fuck, that sounds so small, but it’s not. 

In that moment, he saw me.

And more telling still, it was probably the last time he ever received any from me. His allotted phone call time was coming to a close, and I encouraged him to continue writing. 

“You think I should?”

I really do, Dad. I want to read it. 

He sent me that email, and I fucking missed it, guys. That’s not even the point of this post, though. Sometimes, life catches you by the throat and you just miss things. 

The point is in the knowing. 

There was one other time in the last year of Dad’s life that I saw him light up like that. I knew it was significant then, and its one of my most precious memories now. 

Dad was a deer hunter. In the last five or so years of his life, he completely gave up on that (depression is a bitch that way), but since I finished school and moved back home, hunting was a childhood hobby that I picked back up with a lot of enthusiasm. I hunted from his place, because who buys a lease when Dad lives 30 minutes away? Duh.

Last fall, there was so much more urgency to opening weekend than buck fever. I knew, deep down, that this was the last season we’d have together. Things had been bad for a long time, but they were nearing unsustainable. 

I knew that. 

One evening, before I left, he was sitting in his chair. He did a lot of that, just sitting and staring into space. I glanced at the gun cabinet, and for some reason, I thought to ask, “Dad, tell me about your guns.”

I had to pull him to his feet, but guys, the way he lit up. He took each one out of the safe and started telling me when he bought it, the little tricks about which scope shoots kinda high and which one kicks like a bitch. How old he was, who he bought it from, memorable hunting experiences. Dad was an award winning taxidermist, so getting all of the old stories again, complete with props, was another gift. 

I just watched him, guys. He was so present. Alive in a way I hadn’t seen him in years. He smelled like booze, but he was talking and smiling. Mom watched from the doorway, and I remember thinking very clearly to myself, Seal this moment in your mind. Pay attention. Dwell on it. Cherish it. It’s important. 

That night, I validated my dad. I asked to know him, and I saw him.

Even if I didn’t recognize it then, that was an act of love to the deepest degree. Love in the only way a dying man could accept, and love that the only way a jaded daughter knew to give. 

If I can take away a single life lesson from my father’s suicide, I hope it’s this:

I hope it’s that I learn to see people. 

Not just to reciprocate good feelings when good feelings are received. That’s nice, but that’s not love. 

Not just to go about my life with my head down, so wrapped in my own bullshit that I forget that other people even exist. Object permanence is a concept that even adult Jay struggles with, much to her detriment. 

Not to be so stuck on my own fears that I miss that everyone around me shares them. True connection requires that first, we are opened. And to be open is to be vulnerable. 

Not just to seek my own validation, but to also validate you.

I don't know, guys, I’m tired and emotional and just rambling now. 

But this feels important, okay?

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Blogmas: maybe something on Darcy being sad at Christmas as they’re trying for a baby and they’re surrounded by all her nieces and nephews

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

* TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE, INFERTILITY, DRUG AND ALCOHOL ABUSE.*

By 8pm on Christmas day evening, in the Styles’ household, everyone was usually parched and falling asleep almost anywhere they could find a space to stretch out.

This year, the living room had been taken by the children and the grandchildren and neither Harry or YN minded as they sat at the kitchen table and finished up the cleaning and packing away of leftovers that their four kids would tuck into or save for trips back home. Their eldest and her husband taking space on the sofa with their two children cuddled up on their laps with full bellies of ice-cream and strawberry jelly, watching the Christmas television; their only son and his wife sitting in the living room alcove, by the window, with their children asleep as their feet and cuddled under blankets and dressed in their new pyjamas; their twins, one sitting on the sofa with her husband as they spoke amongst themselves and one squeezed into an armchair with their new baby tucked up on her father’s chest. Everyone full of a good turkey dinner that Harry had been adamant on making that year, with some of the adults all wine-drunk and the children all tuckered out from playing with their new toys and enjoying the chance of staying up late. It was something the two of them had thought about when they were single and growing up, something they spoke about when they were two years deep into their relationship and it was something they dreamed of seeing when they celebrated their first Christmas as parents.

“I could do this till I’m ninety, you know?”

YN looked up at him and he smiled, the stubble on his face grey and patchy, lips darkened by the red wine he’d disguised in the mug in front of him.

“Yeah,” she found her eyes drifting to the sitting room, her heart aching with love and adoration, “it’s a good feeling.”

Harry stretched his arm over the tabletop and squeezed her hand, “we did good, baby. We did so good.”

*

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Sam whispered, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek as he sat down on the sofa beside her, “it’s Christmas, come have a sneaky turkey sandwich with me in the kitchen. Your mum’s left some in the fridge for us.”

“M’not really hungry,” Darcy responded, lifting her eyes from the wine glass in her hand, looking at him to give him a reassuring smile before looking back to the rim of her glass. The usual burn from, what would have been, red wine being replaced with the tingle of fizzy apple because she’d been on a health cleanse since the beginning of December, “you can go and make one though. I’m sure Mum can make you the gravy to soak the bread in.”

Darcy and Sam had been huge lovers of the whole “chuck it together and it’ll make anything” attitude and Christmas gave them a chance to show that off. Bubble and Squeak was their Boxing Day lunch, the leftover turkey went into a packed sandwich full of the leftover vegetables and potatoes for their dinner and the ‘forgotten’ pack of Pigs in Blankets went into the oven because they weren’t really ‘forgotten’ - they were being saved for a day when they were really, really fancied as a snack in between meals - because Christmas was the time to pig out on anything they wanted and not feel guilty about it.

“I know you, Darce,” Sam nudged his elbow into her arm, “I’ll make one and it’ll look so good that you’ll end up stealing half of it to see what it tastes like.”

“I won’t. I’m honestly not hungry,” she informed him.

The tone of her voice felt… off.

Sam could tell something was bothering her… that it had only just started to bother her because she’d been on an excitable high all day. There was no cheeky sarcasm that she used on him from time to time when he said something that irritated her, there was no sweet remarks when he said something that warmed her heart because it was a cute little something he’d picked up on, there was no smile that accompanied her words and she seemed so hidden away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she turned her head to look at him and gave him a warm smile, “I promise, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t promise me that when I can tell by your face that you’re not happy,” he admitted, reaching over to set his red wine down on the coffee table, “talk to me. Tell me. I won’t be able to sleep if I know I haven’t done my husbandly duty of looking after you.”

Darcy gave him ‘the look’ and he cheekily smiled in response.

“I know you want to tell me. Is it because you think I’ve had too much to drink? Because, I’ll tell you now, this is my third of the day. If your dad cracked the beer out, I’d be a goner. Slouched over the kitchen table, needing a bucket, because the crate would be gone,” Sam laughed, “I stuck to my word. No being hungover on Boxing Day.”

“I just-” Darcy sighed heavily, “I look at everyone here and feel so sad that we’re not there yet. We were supposed to be parents right now, with our new baby, having my dad dote on me like mad because he thinks I can’t do anything because I’m tired and having trouble sleeping.”

Her eyes went from Persephone and Jack to Alfie and Ellie to Rose and her newborn baby and she couldn’t help but feel the constant beating of her heart, feeling herself getting worked up but trying to hard not to show any emotion because she’d constantly promised people that she was fine with the year she had; a miscarriage after a miscarriage, being told she was infertile and unable to carry her own children, finding out that the cost of IVF was something they weren’t close to affording and losing herself to misery that took her usual bubbly self away and left a shell behind.

Deep down, she knew she wasn’t fine but she wasn’t ready for the conversations that came soon after that.

“I was supposed to bring our baby into the world a few weeks ago, for my nieces and nephews to play with today, to buy presents for and to open presents for them, to cuddle and enjoy our first Christmas. We were supposed to dress them in cute elf outfits and my sisters were supposed to be aunts again, my brother was supposed to be an uncle again, my parents were supposed to be grandparents again. Your parents were going to be grandparents,” her eyes felt like they were burning and she refused to look back towards her eldest sister, feeling Persephone's eyes looking at her with worry from the sofa she was snuggled into. Her body already perked up and pushed from Jack’s arms,“this was supposed to be our first family Christmas.”

“I know,” Sam hummed, “I know. And we’ll get there. It’ll happen.”

“I’m not under the impression it’s happening soon,” she laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes, “I’m just not made out to be a mum. All the troublesome things I did as a teenager are coming back to bite me on the arse.”

It wasn’t her fault; no way was it her fault.

Sam knew that blaming herself made things better because placing guilt on someone made it more ‘understandable’ but, in truth, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. No matter how many times she blamed her teenage self for participating in recreational drug use or for the alcohol intake on a Friday night at a house party or for the constant sex and one-night stands with those she felt attracted to when she was drunk, that wasn’t the reasoning behind her infertility but she wasn’t ready to confirm that.

“Shut up,” Persephone retorted, sitting up in her seat and looking at her youngest sister, “that’s a load of rubbish and you know it.”

“I’m not just saying this because you’re my sister or anything. I’d say it to any of my female friends. You deserve the world and more. If things aren’t happening right now then that doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen to you,” Persephone said, reaching her arm over and squeezing Darcy’s hand, “you’re a fantastic aunt, the best godmother to be little man, and you’ll be such a fabulous mother when the time comes. I know so. I grew up with you.”

“Don’t.”

“No, I will. Because I know the feeling of not having what you so desperately want. Granted, it’s a different situation but I’ve been there. The pit where you think nothing good will happen.”

“You’re going to get what you want, I know so, Darce. Trust me.”

“You should listen to her,” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, you should. I’m the big sister, I know everything about you lot.”

[write-a-bad-romance]

Only If You Hurry (Comte/Leo)

Pairing: Leonardo x Comte, with hints of Vlad x Comte

Rating: T

Word Count: 1738

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort, Leo and family matters, modern AU

Ao3 Link: Here

Note: I'll be referring to Comte as "Saint-Germain" throughout this fic because I don't want to spoil his first name. Also, his views about same-sex relationships do not reflect the author's actual opinion.

Vanilla-scented smoke trailed behind Leonardo as he located the door to Saint-Germain's apartment and knocked furiously. The sound of a violin was abruptly cut and replaced by footsteps approaching the door. 

Leonardo didn't need to announce who he was. The man inside already knew.

Or maybe not. Saint-Germain still needed to look through the peephole to make sure. Leo heard the sound of unlatching as he stared at the tip of his scuffed leather shoes, a stark contrast against the grimy maroon carpet.

All the money in the world and still he refused to move someplace newer, fancier. But then, the entire building is HIS anyway. 

The door opened with a heavy creak as Saint-Germain's worried face came into view.

"I wasn't expecting a guest. At least not tonight." The blond man sighed, "But at this point, this is your house as much as it's mine, isn't it?"

Saint-Germain backed away to allow Leonardo some space. The moment he stepped into the room, he noticed an ornate decanter of wine and matching glasses on the coffee table.

"I thought you weren't expecting company," Leonardo smacked his lips. The living room was bathed in a warm golden glow, just like everything Saint-Germain.

"I had a feeling knew you'd come."

The larger man decided to let further comments die on his tongue. He marched towards the burgundy velvet armchair and sunk against the cushioning. Other men of his size would complain about how cramped it was, but Leonardo welcomed the snug comfort it offered.

He loved sitting at this very chair and let himself soak in the familiarity of his surroundings. Even more so when the master of the house was around and he would—

Leonardo batted his thoughts away as Saint-Germain probed him. "Is this about that date you mentioned a few days ago?"

"Jeez, how did you know?"

"Just a guess. To be honest, I can't tell you if you just came back from your lab or a fancy restaurant on a hotel rooftop." Saint-Germain gestured towards Leo's desultory choice of clothes. "You're not even trying anymore."

"Yeah, well. She’s a friend of my cousin, my only good cousin. How was I supposed to refuse?" 

"Family matters. I understand." Saint-Germain poured from his decanter and passed it onto the slouching man. "But you can't keep doing this if it means coming to me moaning about it."

"Grazie," Leonardo accepted his friend's offering, but not without almost dropping the glass and letting its content spill onto Saint-Germain's antique Persian rug. "And thank you for being such a good friend and taking in the burnt of my woes."

He wasn't far off from the truth. Despite his harsh words, Saint-Germain would always nod and listen with that almost-holy, serene visage. And without fail, the man would offer him little quips of advice, some soothing words here and there. Sometimes, outright spats were inevitable. But even then, it was Saint-Germain who stood his ground and made Leonardo spend the rest of the night reflecting and repenting.

The weary lecturer closed his eyes and sighed. The good, young doctor wasting all his attention on me? This can't be right.

"Was she really that...undesirable?" The occupant of Leo's thoughts picked his violin once again and pressed it against his collarbone. "How long did you, erm, last?"

"Dio. You make it sound so obscene," Leonardo scoffed. "She wasn't. It's just, well...."

Saint-Germain let out a wry chuckle and gave him a hearty smile. "I see. So it's your tastes that's currently leaning towards....men. Did I put that correctly?"

"Well, I guess you're not entirely wrong." Leonardo hoped he could blame the wine for the rosy tinge that swept across his cheeks.

"Understandable," Saint-Germain cradled the instrument on his arm, a faraway gaze to his eyes. "Once you're accustomed to the comforts of a man, it'll take you a while before you stop searching his image in other men."

Leonardo threw a pointed look at the oblivious man. That's not how it works. 

Besides, aren't you just talking about yourself?

"Really," Saint-Germain ignored his indignant gaze and sat on the loveseat across Leonardo, his own filled glass in hand. "Even if you've dropped hints here and there, wouldn't it be better if you confront your family and tell them the truth?"

"Those were major hints I've been dropping," Leonardo raised his voice. "I had another cousin calling me just to ask about some guy in my Facebook photo from five years ago."

"And?" Saint-Germain licked his wine-tinted lips. Grazioso, Leonardo wanted to say. "What did you tell him?"

"I asked him what his point was. He hung up immediately after," Leo snickered. "Guy must have been scared shitless of me sounding so angry. I never showed that side to him before."

"See?" The blond man sighed, pouring himself a second glass. "Deflecting questions is not a confirmation. Neither is silence."

Leonardo watched intently as the other man rose from his seat to get his violin. His best friend looked enticing in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he had to admit. The ensemble would've been made perfect if Saint-Germain had on a black waistcoat—

Damn the alcohol for letting my mind run loose.

"Anyway, since you're here to drink your sorrows away," Saint-Germain lifted his violin. "Why don't I play something for you?"

Leo bit back a scoff. That's not the kind of comforting I need, but that's about the only thing I can get from this. More than this, and it’d be—

"Sure," He flashed a cheeky grin, "Are you taking requests? Wait, no classics. I don't want you to lull me to sleep."

Saint-Germain set his bow on top of his violin's strings, the instrument waiting in position. "Anything for you."

The pair laughed their worries off into the night, accompanied by Leonardo's off-key singing. It was tiring, the Italian thought. 

But relaxing, in its own superficial way.

“Anyway,” Leonardo spoke much later as he began gathering his belongings. “How’s it going with your cara mia?”

Saint-Germain seemed taken aback by the sudden question. “Oh, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“No,” Leonardo paused, wondering if Saint-Germain noticed the awkwardness of his phrasing. Not that it mattered, going by the inanimate turn of his voice.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ah there it was, Saint-Germain’s signature stern look that appeared whenever Leonardo managed to land a crack on his defenses. “Now, look at you, fussing over someone else’s love life over your own.”

“I get it, I get it.” Leonardo waved a hand in defeat as he made a beeline towards the exit. “Besides, it won’t do if your girlfriend notices I’m going to your apartment all the time. She might get suspicious.”

“She already has,” The smaller man gently pushed Leo’s back as he ushered him out of his abode. “Now go home and get to bed. Don’t wander off into some bar for another drink. Or guy.”

“Santo Dio! No need to keep scolding me! Save your lectures for later!” Leonardo laughed, his face completely flushed. “Thanks anyway. See you when I see you?” 

“Anytime for a dear friend.” Saint-Germain patted the padding of Leonardo’s jacket.

“Right. Ciao.”

Leonardo cursed in Italian as he slammed his fist on a nearby wall.

“Shit.” He ran a sweaty hand over his weary face. “What was I thinking? Wasting my time and whining to the very person I want."

Leonardo could never say he loved the man. He longed for him. He lost sleep over him. Crying for him might be a little too much, but still, it was the blonde hair and amber eyes that followed him to sleep and starred in his dreams. 

And every time, Leonardo would wake up panicked, alone and panting.

And desiring.

He remembered carefully warning his 'wards' Salai and Melzi, "Never go for unavailable men. Don't give in to the delusion that you're somehow going to make it work, whatever it takes."

"Withdraw while there's still time. It's not worth it." He admonished severely.

Leonardo laughed at his hypocrisy, disgust welling in the pits of his stomach. Even if his frivolity hadn't corrupted Saint-Germain, the other man had enough poison in himself to get the job done. Time and time again, he would gaze into the man's golden orbs and find nothing there. 

He would give so much of himself to others but never oblige anybody else to fulfill him. Would never allow anyone close to his heart.

Leonardo knew he couldn't handle him, Saint-Germain and his darkness. And neither could the man endure him. So why did he—

How did he fall in this deep? 

Leonardo shook his head and carried on with a forceful stride. They were fools, both of them. But Leonardo was an absolute abject for letting his heart and brain to be wholly governed by the image of a man who clearly wouldn’t look his way.

Nor anywhere else.

Saint-Germain stared dumbly at the blinding screen of his phone. There was no delivery notification under his latest message.

She was still blocking him. He could only pray the email reached her inbox and didn't end up in the spam or whatever abyss she subjected him. He couldn't afford another postponement. If he was lucky, this weekend, they'd have one last dinner, and Saint-Germain would offer to end their meetings.

Leonardo and his colleagues would praise him for being the one in control, always the dominant one. They believed Comte could pull away gracefully and call off his relationships at the drop of a hat.

Oh, if only such was the case. Saint-Germain battled day and night to gain control over his erratic feelings, hidden under lock and key beneath his impassive facade.

The constant battles made him vulnerable. Weak people had no business supporting another, not when they could barely stand on their own two feet.

And he was so close to baring it all to the very person he'd laid his eyes on. 

Leo can't keep seeing me like this. So prone and useless.

You're a strong man who deserves an even stronger man. It will never be me.

He recalled Leonardo murmuring to him over another round of wine on the balcony of some hotel a long time ago.

It should be easy, being with the one you love. 

Love isn't supposed to hurt or tire you out. If it's running your heart rugged to the ground, then what's the point?

Right?

Saint-Germain twisted the silicone casing of his phone furiously. He didn't know. How could he answer?

What was love supposed to feel like?

Joyeux anniversaire, Comte! Sorry I’m offering nothing but angst on this jolly day! :’)))

This was actually a request from anon, but I decided to make a longer piece from the prompt. The original draft had Renaissance influences thrown in, but things got hectic and I couldn’t continue my research. So I decided to go with mu usual jam: Modern AU.

Also, I think I overdid the hurt and added too much angst. I hope it’s okay.

Thank you to @ashavazesa for helping me brainstorm ideas. I’m sorry things didn’t come out like we intended to, but your suggestion (namely, Comte playing the violin for Leonardo) stuck with me and it fit nicely. Thank you!

[wlntrsldler]

10 AM (Bucky Barnes Imagines)

Anon: Do you still take requests? Sorry if I'm filling up your inbox but can you do a bucky/reader song fic based on the song 10 am by Keaton Henson? I think it would be a PERFECT Bucky fic. Your writing is amazing af btw! :)))

A/N: This is like three years late but this song is perfect for Bucky.

Prompt: Bucky is hopelessly in love with Y/N. He stops himself from saying anything to her because he’s afraid of getting hurt again, not knowing how much more he can take in his lifetime. 

-

This feels right and I'm letting it

And now I know just what to do

Tire of me if you will, my dear

I will not tire of you

Bucky loves you. If there’s one thing he’s certain about in the crazy and messed up world that he found himself in the midst of, it’s that he loves you. When nothing else in the world made sense, you were the one who offered him clarity. When Bucky was mad at the world for making life so difficult, you were the one who he went to for comfort. When Bucky was broken because he remembered all of his wrong-doings, you were the one to reassure him that he was still worthy. You were always there for him. 

He tried, he really did, to make sure that you weren’t his only source of happiness, but every time he pulled himself away from you, his love guided him right back in the palm of your hand. He knew it wasn’t healthy for him to depend on you so much. He grew afraid that his constant need for you would be the reason why you would leave him, no matter how many times you scolded him for his incorrect thoughts. Bucky couldn’t help it. He couldn’t handle another loss in his life.

Bucky knew of his feelings for you long before the snap. But it wasn’t until he came back and Steve chose to live the life he always yearned for, that Bucky realized that if you were to walk out of his life, his heart would shatter. 

There were only a handful of times where he felt like his heart was being chipped away. The first was when he left his family as he got shipped off to fight for the country back when he was solely just Bucky Barnes. The second time was when he woke up strapped on a table, missing his arm, and he watched the HYDRA agents gather around him like he was some spectacle. The third was when he recognized Steve, beaten and bruised, all done by his own fists. The last time was when he saw Steve’s silhouette, wrinkled and fragile, with a golden band around his finger. 

But when he thought about you no longer being a part of his life, his heart crumbled. He felt it in his chest, heavy and painful, like a pain that he could never recover from. He sat there with Steve that night, staring off as the sun set, explaining to his best pal how he was feeling. 

Steve replied, “That was what I felt all those years when I wasn’t with Peggy.”

That was the moment when Bucky truly saw the courage and the bravery of his oldest and dearest friend. Sure, the Steve that was too stupid to back down from a fight carried himself with foolish bravery, but the Steve that lived with the pain of losing the love of his life was something that left Bucky speechless. He knew deep down in his heart that a pain like that is something he wouldn’t dare to live with. Steve was a selfless man, who for once put himself first and accepted the love he rightfully deserved. 

And this is the world as I see it now

Turns out that nothing is fair

You can leave me if you wish, my love

But I'm not going anywhere

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he fell for you. Though he had a few guesses, he was never certain. There were just a few moments that would be forever burned in his mind. 

He remembered the one time you were washing dishes after a team dinner. You had your hair up to get it away from your face and you were wearing an old college shirt. It was way too big on you. The shirt nearly drowned you but Bucky thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. 

You complained to the team that you didn’t want to wash the dishes again, being the one who washed it two nights before. Everyone else was too tipsy, in Wanda’s case, too drunk, off the fancy red wine Tony brought over to handle breakables. Bucky’s super-soldier serum prevented him from feeling the effects of alcohol so he volunteered himself to help you. Unbeknownst to the both of you, the team purposely did that so Bucky could have some alone time with you, and maybe, finally get the courage he needed to tell you how he felt. 

You two spent the next thirty minutes cleaning up after the grown adults, who acted like children, playing Twister in the other room. You talked about his time as a soldier and your time as a college student. There was never an empty silence. The conversation never seemed to stop between you two.

The team knew you brought that side out of Bucky. You and Steve were the only two that ever got him to open up, as much as the others tried to weasel their way into Bucky’s soft side. Only you managed to crack the code and after a few months, the team made their peace with that. 

Bucky dried the plates while you washed. He looked at you as you tried to continuously blow away the strand of hair that managed to escape your hair tie. Your hands were covered in the bubbly liquid and you didn’t want your hair to get wet. You would giggle a soft, “Sorry,” every time you’d catch him look in your direction as you pursed your lips to shoo the stubborn piece of hair away. He placed the white plate down on the counter and tucked the piece of hair behind your ear. You blushed at his action, looking down at your feet to save yourself from the embarrassment of melting under the stare of his baby blue eyes. 

That image was what calmed Bucky down whenever he felt like he was disconnected from himself. He just remembered the softest shade of pink making its way down to your neck as he let his fingers linger on top of your skin.

And please do not hurt me, love

I am a fragile one

And you are the white in my eyes

Please do not break my heart

I think it's had enough

Pain to last the rest of my life

Bucky also remembered the time you caught his attention during a mission debrief. He stopped paying attention to Fury some time ago and you caught his focus from across the table. You were playing with a little ladybug that found itself stuck inside the conference room. The little insect crawled over your folders, a drop of color a midst the black and white paper work on the table. 

He watched as your eyes lit up upon finding the small insect. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear you say, “Hey, little guy,” to the bug. Your lips tugged into a small smile and your attention was diverted to it, making sure that nobody else on the team saw what you were paying attention to. 

The rest of the meeting seemed to drag on, until finally Fury let everyone get back to their own lives. You scooped up all of your things, making sure that the bug was safe in your hands. Bucky pushed his chair back and made his way over to you. He asked you if you needed help carrying your things so you could spend more time making sure the ladybug was okay. You nodded up at him and he wasted to time in grabbing a hold of your many folders and laptop. You started walking in front of him, stopping right before you reached the door.

You put your hand out for him to see the ladybug, the widest smile taking over your face, “Bucky, meet Mimi.”

Bucky couldn’t help but mimic the smile you had on your face. You were too busy looking at the red dot in your hand to notice that Bucky was staring right at you while he said, “Hi, Mimi. Nice to meet you. I’m Bucky.”

You continued to walk out of the sliding doors with him trailing behind, the goofy smile on his face not showing a sign of disappearing any time soon. Before he could take another step, a hand pulled him back, taking him by surprise. He looked to his left and saw Sam with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Dude,” Sam started. “You are so whipped.”

Bucky couldn’t even say anything back because he knew that he was. He knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. And the worst part is, he didn’t mind it one bit.

My endless distraction, you worry me

And I'm trying to figure out how

You don't have to make any promises, love

I'm afraid I might die for you now

The last thing he remembered was when you were all in Wakanda, fighting Thanos, right before the snap. The fight was winding down and he felt like there was something that was about to go wrong. He watched from afar as Thanos retrieve the final stone. Bucky felt his heart drop to his stomach. His ears were ringing, like there was this alarm going off in his head. He wanted it to stop so badly because he heard a faint voice calling his name in the distance. Your voice. 

Suddenly, he felt someone wrap their arms around him. He broke out of his trance and saw you against his body. Your lip was bleeding and he was sure that your clothes were torn apart by the fights. There were tears staining your face and Bucky wanted nothing else but to wipe them from your cheeks and tell you everything is going to be okay. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do that. 

He promised you months ago that he would never lie to you. It was the one thing that he took pride in since he became the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t a liar, and he was not about to lie to you now. He knew everything wouldn’t be okay.

So he held you, wrapped tightly in his arms, whispering, “I got you, Y/N. I got you.”

Bucky let himself close his eyes, breathing you in before the worst came. Then, as if on cue, he was hugging nothing else but the air around him. He looked for you, frantically calling your name out. He ran through the woods trying to find you, or anyone, who could explain to him what was happening. He saw Steve in the near distance and called out for him, “Steve.”

That was the last thing he remembered. 

And I'd kill just to watch as you're sleeping

I hope that you'll let me in time

You don't have to call me yours, my love

Damn it, I'm calling you mine

When he saw you again, he relished your scent, your warmth, your voice, just a bit longer than he allowed himself with the others. You squeezed him tighter, missing the feeling of his arms wrapped around you for the five years you were deprived of him. Bucky did the same. 

You two had been inseparable since then. It was like the five years that you lived without each other were five years that your minds completely blurred out, wanting to erase any memory of life without one another. This time around, you started leaning on Bucky the same way he had been leaning on you. He felt selfish admitting it to himself but he liked the way you always searched for him after every nightmare, like he was your own solace. He liked the way you ran to him for everything, whether it was opening a stubborn jar or calming yourself after an intense mission. Bucky liked that he felt needed. It made it even better that it was you who needed him. 

You two moved in together, knowing that you both needed each other more than anything during times like these. You helped him get back on his feet and was his own personal tour guide in the 21st century. Bucky helped you grow from your trauma, sharing his own experiences trying to come to terms with his own. Things were balanced and complete with the two of you. You didn’t complete each other, you simply learned how to help the other complete them-self. 

You accompanied Bucky as he visited Steve, showing off pictures from your latest rendezvous. Every time you would see Steve, you would see the smile he sported on his face finally reach his eyes. For all the years you’ve known him, you never saw his eyes light up the way it did after he came back from returning the stones. He was finally happy. 

As you excused yourself to get a cup of water, Steve motioned Bucky over to sit next to him. The brunette obliged, making himself comfortable on the couch cushions beside his best friend. He placed his hand above Bucky’s, showing off the wedding band he refused to take off. “Have you told her yet, Buck?”

“Not yet,” He sighed. “I’m scared of telling her, Steve. I don’t know what she’ll say.”

Steve laughed, the crinkles by his eyes showing. “Bucky, everything she’ll say to you has been said by her many times before.”

Bucky looked at him confused, “What do you mean?”

“She confessed her love to you, long, long ago, Bucky.” He explained, looking off in the distance to see you talking to Nurse Joy, the woman taking care of Steve. “She may have not said it directly but it’s in the way she looks at you, the way she takes care of you... That woman loves you, Buck. You’re just too blind to see it.”

Those words sunk into Bucky’s heart. Maybe, just maybe, Steve was right, but Bucky was too foolish, too afraid, to let himself fully believe it. He just smiled at his best friend and turned his attention back to you once you entered the room again. “Hey, doll. Thought you left me.”

You leaned over and placed the cup of water on the table separating you from the two men. You chuckled, “I could never leave you, Bucky.” 

Your eyes met his and for the first time, Bucky felt like he understood what Steve was saying. Your simple words shielded a meaning that was deeper than the superficial answer. Bucky’s heart fluttered at your words and he just stared at you in awe. God, he hoped that you felt the same way too because he knew he couldn’t survive another tragedy in his life. 

Please do not hurt me, love

I am a fragile one

And you are the light in my eyes

Please do not break my heart

I think it's had enough

Pain to last the rest of my life

My life

And I will not tire of you

-

MASTERLIST

[theblackberrygirl]

I'm BACK Peter, Tony, Steve, and Natasha are all bookworms. Like they love reading. They all love fiction in general, but they all do have other preferences. Tony likes sci-fi, Natasha likes mystery, Steve likes romance, and Peter likes fantasy. And none of them like nonfiction all that much, though they will read it occasionally. The Avengers all get super emotional whenever they watch movies, especially with Inside Out and Onward. Except for Peter, who's just looking at them like ??? Natasha is Peter's celebrity crush, so when they first meet, he's just like freaking out Natasha is constantly helping Peter with his homework, she convinced him to join marching band again, ad it generally like an older sister (Pls I love them so much) If Peter was Tony's bio son (during the baby/toddler years):

-Natasha is go to babysitter, and though she finds it annoying, she loves Peter to death and is really good at it -Peter rarely throws tantrums, but when he does everyone is instantly trying to calm him down -He loves watching Steve draw and Nat do ballet -He also frequently gets into Tony's lab and wreaks havoc -Blueberry pancakes -He cries a lot on his first day of preschool and it takes Nat and Tony a million years to calm him down -He wanders around and gets lost a lot, which means constant worry for the Avengers -Natasha enjoys brushing his hair -She will take him out for walks and take him to the park

April Fools day at the Avengers Compound. Discuss

LETS GO BESTIE I MISSED UOU IM GONNA GET INTO YOU INBOX SOON I PROMISE

YES THEY DO the others mock them for being nerds fjdjjddj. Nat loves mystery because she can always figure it out before the end, and Peter introduces her to some fantasy novels

Ok but I GET SO EMOTIONAL AT INSIDE OUT SO SAME and just the idea of Nat trying to hide her tears bc the depression stuff just hit too close to home- ugh the angst I love it

I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THAT CLIP THATS LIKE “oH mY gOd iT’s rObErT dOwNeY jR” except it’s him with Nat fjdjjddj. Natasha isn’t normally in the spotlight, so this is like, a REALLY NEW EXPERIENCE FOR HER. She’s just like “...you know me? And you wanna talk to ME? I’m literally standing next to captain America” but Peter is just like “hoLY SHIT BLACK WIDOW I LOVE YOU”

I LOVE THEM TOOOOOOOOO OMG THEYRE SO CUTE and yeah I can just see Nat AND Peter being super sleep deprived during finals week and Tony’s just like “...Nat you don’t have finals why are you so tired” and she’s just like “I’m HELPING HIM.”

She pretends to hate it but really she loves it. She always has the best time with him and he’s always really good for her. She will NEVER ADMIT IT but she looks forward to doing it :) she wants him to have the childhood that she didn’t

THEY ALL JUST FLOCK TO HIM LIKE HEY HEY NO ITS OK ITS OK WHY U CRYING ITS OK

Ugh I can just see him being so mesmerized by the creative arts. Just completely entranced by the music and the way that she glides across the stage or how the pencil moves across the paper. They totally encourage it too, and Nat will hold him and dance and Steve gets him a little pencil set

That’s like half of Nat’s babysitting job is just keeping him out and away from the lab haha. One time he got in there and blew out all the windows even tho he was onLY ALONE FOR 5 MINUTES

STEVE MAKES THE BEST PANCAKES HANDS DOWN. If anyone tries to make them Peter will refuse. “This is Steve’s recipe!” “I want the Steve ones” “THESE ARE THE STEVE ONES”

OH HE WOULD THO BC THAT BOY HAS SO MUCH SEPARATION ANXIETY. He does eventually calm down tho and he makes a bunch of friends on his first day bc he’s a little social butterfly

When he’s in the tower, it’s not a big deal, bc they can just ask JARVIS where he went. But it gets VERY BAD when they go out into the city. There is soooo many people there and it’s very hard to find him if he wanders off. Natasha is in charge of holding onto him and carrying him, especially in crowded areas, and Steve is in charge of making sure Natasha doesn’t get swept away in the crowds of taller people

He grows his hair out a little bit when he’s 4 and THAT MEANS BRAIDING. His favorite is French braids, and he wears them to preschool. All the other kids think that it’s SO COOL and Nat ends up braiding a lot of hair fjdjdjdjdjd

Nat’s the one who always takes him to the park bc she’s honestly the only one who likes it. Steve does too, and the three of them will go together sometimes. But Tony doesn’t really like forests that much, Bruce has really bad pollen allergies, and while Clint likes the trees, he’d much rather be in them than under them.

I SHALL DISCUSS ABSOLUTELY

ok so do you know that one post where they play dodgeball and Clint hits Nat on accident and then hides in the roof for hours? “Clint she’s gone you can come down” “NO SHES NOT SHES JUST WAITING”

I imagine it would go something like that. Tony pulls a prank on Nat but makes it look like Clint did it. Clint finds out and FREAKS bc he’s spent many April fool’s days with Nat and she is a prank MASTER. He spends the whole day freaking out that something’s gonna happen, but nothing does. When he goes to his room that night, Nat’s waiting for him and they team up against Tony (please, you really think Nat would’ve fallen for Tony’s framing of Clint? She knows that Clint knows better)

Peter, Natasha, and Clint are the trio to fear on April Fool’s Day. Clint knows his way around the vents perfectly (and since him and Nat spend so much time together, she does too), Natasha is, well, Natasha, and Peter has super strength and can climb walls and basically get around to places the other two can’t. They always target Tony, Thor, and Steve the most (but never Bruce bc it makes him anxious :( but they did pull a very mild switch-the-salt-and-sugar prank on him)

UGH I LOVE THESE OMG

[trekahouse]

Dear Miserable Ex,

I know that trying to comprehend the loss of someone as amazing as me, is hard to bear. It’s been years and you still need to try make me look bad; because I realized that I was too good for your abuse. You died a little the moment that you realized that I was never coming back. And you’ve died a little more every since. You haven’t figured out yet, that I don’t care who you call, inbox or stop on the street to try to ruin my reputation. You can’t ruin what you didn’t give me. Plus it won’t change anything. You still have to live your miserable life without me. Blame me all that you want. You don’t have to take responsibility for anything, I’m fine with it. As long as I’m free of you, I don’t care what you do and say. Why don’t you just come out and say that you fucked up? Be real, and say that you want me back. Tell those same people the real deal, that you hate that you lost me. You know that you lost the best thing to ever happen to you. I built you up, pushed you and shared some of my light with you. It wasn’t enough though. Tell them that you were trifling and you feel invisible, and you need constant attention. Tell them that I got sick of you and didn’t want you anymore. Tell them that I left you for me. You’ll feel so much better. Yes, you’re seeing right, I’m happy as hell without you. I’ve accomplished more without you than I did with you. You were dead weight. I don’t miss you, not even a little bit. I don’t miss what we had, because we never had anything. I was miserable when I was with you, which I told you. You projected all of your insecurities and traumas onto me and I carried it unknowingly. When I released you back to the streets, I released your baggage too. Oh and for the record, I’ll never be envious of any woman you’re with, because I know that she’s not getting anything special. She’s securing a narcissistic, invalidated, insecure, fragile little boy. What I will do though, is pray for her—for them all. Please move on, I sure have. Oh, I know that’s why you’re really mad. I gave you what you wanted, so what’s the problem? You’ll never stop me from being happy. You’ll never hinder this beautiful journey I’m on. All the energy you’re wasting talking about me, could be used on yourself. Please understand that I don’t think about you and I could careless about what’s going on in your dark life. Please move on. Find someone else to be a headache to. That thing between us died years ago. It’ll never be an us again, so let go. Release yourself from that mental prison. You should be tired of obsessing. I pity you.

Treka L. House

[author-morgan]

As of today, I have decided to take a reprieve from Tumblr. I do not intend for this to be a long-term absence (hopefully no longer than two or three weeks), I only need some time away from this website. My writing won't be impacted by this but just know if you've sent a request, it may be a little longer than normal before it is posted. I’ll be using this time to catch up on everything and get a jump start on the next chapters of Kryptic. Now that I have delivered this news, all my readers and followers deserve to know why it is that I feel I must do this.

I've been writing for Alexios since 2018 with the release of Odyssey. I love Alexios' character and wanted to create and share content for others to enjoy since there really isn't much for him in comparison to say, Kassandra. For a year and a half, I've posted my works to Tumblr, Wattpad, and AO3 without issue. 

In March, I saw a link going around to join a discord server about Assassin's Creed called AC Tumblr (ACT for short). Thinking it would be a fun opportunity to connect with people who also liked Assassin's Creed and share my stories, I decided to join. A naïve action on my part looking back. Shortly after I joined, I received my very first piece of anon hate ever. Note that I have been writing for over 10 years now and for several fandoms including the MCU, Game of Thrones, and Lord of the Rings and have never received an ask that was pure anon hate. I knew it was no coincidence as this message contained cues to things I had only ever mentioned on ACT. But I played it off and didn’t think much of it.

But it happened again, and again, and again. You have only seen the tip of the messages I have received as many of them I just delete —there’s no sense giving these people the time of day. A week has not passed since March without me receiving hateful messages about my Assassin’s Creed stories, or how I write a certain character, or why I tag things the way I do. I left the anonymous function on during this time because I know people can be uncomfortable requesting prompts off anon and I didn’t want to alienate my readers by forcing them to make a request off anon or via DM. But now, after 6 months, I am tired of it. I’m tired of the anon hate, I’m tired of the drama from ACT, and I’m tired of it following me to my Tumblr. Where once I loved seeing messages pop up in my inbox because it would be new requests or fun asks, I now dread to see what vile things people that do not know me will have to say.

In a few months on ACT, I became one of the most active members of the server. I shared my stories that I spend so much time creating. I shared my headcanons and AUs for characters. I talked with people about my OCs Irene and Lesya and shared “behind the scenes” things for Phobia and Kryptic. I thought I was having fun, making friends (and I have made friends —I’ve made three great friends from ACT), but it seems that I was also making enemies and didn’t even realize it.

Let me be clear. If anyone ever has a problem with something I’ve done or said one, please come to me and come to me off anon. I’m an adult, I can civilly discuss things, but I cannot read minds.  

After about 2 months on the server, it felt like I couldn’t say anything at all without being unjustly watched just because I was rising in ranks and on the server’s leaderboard. It got to the point where I couldn’t carry on a conversation with someone without constantly being moved from channel to channel —how can you speak to people if the conversation is in four different places? You can’t. That’s how conversations die (that and slowmode). Just for an example, from the end of August, until I decided to leave, I and another of the most active members on ACT went silent after being unjustly targeted and under constant surveillance and scrutiny to the point where we could no longer speak to one another on the server —in our absence, there was hardly any activity in a server of almost 200 people. On top of this, the server lacked any sort of transparency and accountability among those who were supposed to be keeping ACT safe for everyone —the suspicions I’d had all along were proven true. And this is only a small preview of what I’ve noticed during my time there.

Nearly a month ago, I left both ACT and the affiliated NSFW server after weeks of no longer feeling welcomed and being singled out in a community that is supposed to be accepting and welcoming to everyone. On Friday, I was invited back into this server as I had become a topic of discussion, despite the claims that no one here talks about people after they leave, I spoke my part and made my peace, but even after this, people that I am certain are from the server will not let the drama die to the point where it is beginning to feel like harassment.

My hope now is that with my anons off and a sizable break, all this will we be in the past by the time I return. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has offered support during these months and have been so quick to come to my defense —it means more than I can ever say. Know that I will not forget this and that I will not let this stop me from writing for the characters I love. More fics will be coming soon and my inbox will always be open to requests. 

[mldrgrl]

Last First Kiss

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: This is for all the Ed Jerse Anons sitting in my inbox who all want a variation on the theme of Scully not being satisfied that Ed would be the last man she was with.

The appointments were on the calendar for the third Thursday on the month for six months, not a secret, but they were simply marked “Scully - doctor,” like they were run of the mill check-ups and not aggressive chemotherapy.  Every third Friday was marked “Scully - out of office.”

Mulder did his best not to be too solicitous, wished her well when she packed up her things before lunch, made lame jokes about how much he’d get done without her ripping apart his theories for a day.  He didn’t know how she spent her weekends after those appointments, she could be intensely private about certain aspects of herself, her health being one of them, but it was obvious from the paleness of her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, and the constant tremor her body seemed to have come Monday, that she suffered.

He wished she wouldn’t push herself so hard, but then again, she was a fighter.  He had to admit he was a bit in awe of her determination not to let such a grim diagnosis stop her from doing anything.  It had certainly stopped him.  Though she didn’t know it, his free time was mostly devoted to finding answers.  He didn’t care who he had to go through to find the men who gave her this disease.  If they knew how to give it to her, they knew how to take it back.

As the months went by though, the nosebleeds only got worse and at a certain point, she’d even stopped demanding that he not look at her when she did her best to clean herself up or given him dirty, ungrateful glares when he brought out the packet of tissues he’d started carrying around in his breast pocket and slipped them into her hand.  She’d stopped locking the connecting doors of their motel rooms or trying to disguise the sound of her retching in the middle of the night by running the sink at full blast.  The last two times, she’d even let him kneel beside her and dab her cheeks and the back of her neck with a cool washcloth as she limply clung to the side of the toilet.  

If he wasn’t scared before, he was now.  He could persevere as long as she was, but the moment she looked up at him with a tired, resigned gaze that told him he was finally allowed to see her like this because it didn’t matter anymore, he knew she had given up.  And now, he was desperate for those answers.

Appointment number five loomed like a thundercloud.  Mulder was tense all week and Scully was quiet.  Time moved like molasses Thursday morning.  He tried to focus on the expense report for their last case, but his mind kept wandering to ways he might offer his services to help her through the weekend.  Even with the minutes dragging by, suddenly she was shutting her computer down and he hadn’t come up with anything better than, “if you need anything, you know you can call me.”

Scully left with a murmured “see you Monday,” and he chickened out on saying anything more than a soft goodbye.  He bit his lip and as soon as he heard the elevator ding and the doors close, he choked on a quiet sob he’d been reigning in.  As quickly as he let his emotions overtake him, he pulled himself back together and pounded a fist against the top of his desk.  Scully was out there bravely fighting a losing battle alone and he wasn’t helping her by crying at his desk.  It was time for his check-in with the Gunmen, who were following up on leads in his stead.

But, the boys had nothing for him.  Nothing new, anyway.  Mulder cursed.  He was pretty sure his best bet was the black-lunged sonofabitch that seemed to pull all the strings from every direction and he’d been trying to lure the old man out of hiding for weeks to no avail.  There had to be something he could do.

He stayed at the office well into the evening, poring over his files for some connection he might have missed.  There was so much there and yet nothing at all.  He was just digging deeper rabbit holes with every file.  He finally went home when he felt like his vision was becoming too blurry to ready anything further, but he was back at it again before the sun even came up.  Strewn across his desk and the floor was Scully’s abduction file, the files on Max Fenig, Duane Barry, the women in Allentown, the personnel file he’d poached on Alex Krycek, and others bearing the slightest hint of alien activity.

Halfway through the day, it dawned on him that maybe he should change his tactic.  He wasn’t a religious man, but Scully was a religious woman, and there were examples of miraculous recoveries all over the world.  He gathered up the mess he’d made and made another printing out reams of research on holy sites and unexplained recoveries from illnesses.  Amongst them all, he found one that appealed.  In fact, it excited him so much that he found himself grabbing he jacket and driving to Scully’s apartment with a hopeful flutter in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking though, knocking on her door that Friday evening.  He hadn’t even gotten a good look at her before he was asking her if she’d ever heard about the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes.  She answered his knock in a pair of snow-white flannel pajamas that were rolled up at the sleeves and ankles.  Her face was almost as white as her sleepwear, aside from the hollow grey smudges under her eyes.  Her eyes themselves were so thoroughly bloodshot it looked like it might be painful just to keep them open.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking her in.  “I didn’t mean to...to…”

She blinked slowly at him, like a sleepwalker still in a dream.  “Our Lady of Lourdes,” she repeated in a quiet slur.  “In France.”

“Yeah.  Yes, France.”

“What about it?”

“Um…”  

“Sorry, I need to sit down.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, following her to the couch.  

He glanced around.  There was a blanket waterfalling off the couch, crumbled tissues scattered across the coffee table, and a basin strategically placed on the floor beside the couch, just below the spot where the impression of her head still lingered on a pillow.  Scully pushed the blanket out of the way and folded herself up like a sheet of origami into the empty corner of the couch.

“I should go,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me the story of Saint Bernadette?” she mumbled.

“You know it?”

“Of course I know it, Mulder.”

“Oh.”

“You can tell it to me anyway.  I like your stories.”

“You do?”

“Sit down.”

Tentatively, Mulder took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.  He surreptitiously slid the basin away from his feet and picked up a closed photo album that was wedged beneath the back cushion.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Photo album.”

“Well, yeah.  Are they of you?”

She nodded.

“May I?”

She nodded again.  He opened the book and on the first page was a black and white mugshot of a swaddled newborn with a pinched face.  Next to it was the classic, naked baby on a bearskin rug photo that every parent seemed to think was necessary.  He had one of his own somewhere.  He chuckled to himself.

The next pages were a hodgepodge of Scully family photos.  There was a pensive looking toddler Scully on the lap of her smiling sister, both with loose red curls and matching baby blue dresses.  There was all four Scully children, the boys in sailor suits, the girls in navy blue pinafore dresses standing in front of a docked ship.  There was Scully blowing out eight candles on a birthday cake.  There was a professional photo of Scully from the waist up in a white lace dress and a white veil, looking upwards with gloved hands clasped in prayer.  

He turned to a page of school photos, all eerily similar, the progression of time marked only by the changes in Scully’s face and the length of hair, but the constant being the dark blazer and plaid skirt of a Catholic schoolgirl.  She only smiled in one, which he guessed to be about third grade, the rest a study in concentrated seriousness.

And then there was a photo that made him stop and bring the album closer to his face.  “Scully,” he said, squinting.  “Was your mom a triplet?”

“No,” she said, with a quiet laugh.  “She was the middle of three girls.  All a year apart.”

“I mean, they look...identical.”  And they really did.  He saw three Margaret’s in a line with their arms around each other, same dark curls, same shape of the jaw and brow, same red lipstick, even.

“The one on the right is Aunt Kate, the one on the left is Mary Pat.”

“Kate.  Katherine?  Is that where your middle name cames from?”

“Nope.  Mary Kate, Mary Margaret, Mary Pat.  Only Aunt Mary Pat uses the Mary.”

“Wait, so your mom and her sisters are all named Mary?”

“Technically, sort of.”

“What was your grandmother’s name?  Mary Magdalene?”

“Angela.”

“Oh.”

“Mary Angela.”

Mulder chuckled.

There were a few more pages of family photos and then they changed into pictures of places and people who he assumed were friends from high school or college.  There was a photo of Scully with long wavy hair holding a sleeping baby as a priest touched its little bald head.

“Your godson?” he asked.

“Mmhm.”

He flipped a few more pages.  There was photos of a cabin in the snow, of Scully in cold weather gear holding a string of fish, of a silver Volkswagen Rabbit, and a slew of photos of a beach and a lighthouse.

“Where’s this?” he asked.

“Point Loma.  It was one of my favorite places as a kid.”

“And who is this?”  He turned the photo on the next page towards Scully, of her pressed cheek to cheek with a fair-haired man with freckles across his nose and forehead.

“His name is Ethan.”  She sat up a little reached out to touch the photo with her fingertips for a few moments and then she curled back into the corner and made a small noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

“Ethan was the last relationship I was in.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t last long.  Three months, I think.  I don’t know, it just occurred to me that...I guess I always thought I’d have more time to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know.”  She shook her head.  “Nothing.  Ethan will have been the last man to love me, even for a short time.”

A protest formed on Mulder’s tongue, but he held it back and looked at the picture of Scully and her ex-boyfriend again.  Maybe if things had worked out with this Ethan character, they never would’ve even met.  Or with that other guy, that Jack Willis guy from that case a few years ago.  Maybe if it had worked out between them, she wouldn’t be here now, though he can’t imagine Scully and Jack as having ever been very good together.  He really didn’t want to think about it, either.

“And Ed Jerse,” she said.

Mulder snapped to attention at the mention of that name and looked over at her.  “What about Ed Jerse?”

“Ed will be my last first kiss.”  She snorted softly and closed her eyes, brows knitting together slightly.  He took a glance at her mouth, at the dry, cracked lips that bastard had been lucky enough to touch.  It made him sad and angry.

“You do have time, Scully,” he said, emphatically.

“No, I don’t, Mulder.”

“Yes, you-”

“I don’t.”  She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze at him.  “Mulder, I’m dying.  You know it as well as I do, you just don’t want to face the truth.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.  I’m not getting better, I’m getting worse.  The tumor hasn’t changed and the chemo has just made me sick.  There isn’t anything left to do.  I know this is hard for you, but it’s just a matter of time.  And I won’t be making a pilgrimage to France to pray to the Virgin Mary and drink from healing waters, if that was your bright idea.”

“Why not?  Why not try everything we can?”

“I would rather spend the time that I have left doing the things I love.  I love my job and that’s what I want to do for as long as I’m able.”

“I can’t accept that this is the end, Scully.”

“You’re going to have to.”  Her eyes welled with tears, but didn’t spill over.

Mulder looked away and closed the photo album.  Scully slumped against the couch and shivered.  She hugged her arms across her chest and curled up even tighter.  If she got any smaller, she’d disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder whispered, slipping off the couch to his knees.  He shuffled over to Scully’s side of the couch and put a hand on her arm, leaning close.  “It’s not over until it’s over.  Ethan isn’t the last man to love you, I am.  Maybe you don’t think it’s the same, but I do.”

“Mulder…”  She unraveled enough to put a hand on his cheek.  “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.”

“I know.  I...I know.”

He leaned into the palm of her hand for a moment and then reached up to cup her face with both hands.  “You’re not dying,” he whispered, just before bringing his lips to hers.  “There’s time,” he said, pulling back before moving in again.  “Don’t give up.”

The three kisses he pressed to her mouth were soft and chaste, but they’re the most heartfelt and tender kisses he’s ever shared with anyone.  He felt her tears running down between the webbing of his fingers and he brushed them away with his thumbs.  She held his wrists as he placed whispersoft kisses against her closed eyes and wet cheeks.

“I’m going to do everything I can for you,” he said.  “Everything.”

“I know.”

“Fight.”

She nodded.  He stroked the back of her head once and kissed her temple before rising.  As much as he wanted to stay, he had work to do and he needed to get to it as quickly as possible.  Maybe he could get her to hold on a little longer, but in his heart he knew he was running out of time.

The End