#I guess it’s just easier to completely separate that part of me than remember it

[philsmeatylegss]

Me like 99% of the time: “Lol, yeah, I was super suicidal and severely mentally ill when I was 13/14. I was so cringe. Glad I’m better and can make light of the topic. What a wreck lol”

Me that 1% of the time: …I was suicidal when I was 14

[cherriegyuu]

Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork. 

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it. 

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him. 

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all. 

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try. 

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends. 

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.   

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness. 

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes. 

Living like that felt oddly lonely. 

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them… 

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility. 

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart. 

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you. 

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was. 

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all. 

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either. 

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open. 

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor. 

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side. 

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know. 

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

 "I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would. 

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket. 

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you. 

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend. 

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle. 

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness. 

"I wasn't angry" 

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit. 

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy. 

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you. 

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t. 

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared. 

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking. 

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening. 

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed. 

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment. 

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were. 

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then. 

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you. 

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around. 

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything. 

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that. 

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you. 

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs. 

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you. 

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside. 

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position. 

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy. 

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that. 

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest. 

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again. 

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all. 

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork. 

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind. 

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with. 

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him. 

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that. 

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud. 

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

taglist: @belladaises @minghaossv @lol6sposts @weebotakuboy @alifethatsonlyonthepage @donquixotesvt @dearlosver @dearxia @yogurttea @royal9 @desibrownie @feat-sun @itsveronicaxxx @soonyoonswoo @matchahyuck

requests are open

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Hello!

My Gallifreyan is quite sadder than usual, and he's admitted that xe is very lonely. I'm guessing that this is because their friend had to go back to Gallifrey for reasons unknown to me, but she often disappears into xyr TARDIS for hours or even days at a time. Is this normal behavior for them? How should i go about introducing them to new friends?

-sincerely, a concerned human

How do you help a lonely Time Lord?

Greetings Concerned Human,

We don't know the background of this particular trauma, but it's quite normal for a Gallifreyan to experience periods of loneliness, especially when separated from close companions. Time Lords, despite their immense stoicness (that's a word), still experience the same range of emotions as humans do, including sadness and loneliness. The departure of a close friend can be a significant emotional blow, leaving your Gallifreyan feeling isolated.

🕰️ Is This Normal Behaviour?

Firstly, yes, it's normal for some Gallifreyans to disappear into their TARDIS for extended periods. Their TARDIS isn't just a vehicle; it gives them an emotional, psionic, and physical sanctuary and some isolation. Many Time Lords often need solitude, and their time alone is crucial for their well-being, especially when dealing with emotional turmoil or loneliness.

🌌 Addressing the Loneliness

However, loneliness is a serious issue, even for a Time Lord. They may have vast intellects and lifespans, but they still need companionship and connection. Here are a few steps you can take to help your Gallifreyan friend:

Understanding & Empathy: Show understanding and empathy. Let them know you're there for them and that you value their presence.

Shared Activities: Engage in activities that they enjoy or find intellectually stimulating. Whether it's discussing the universe, exploring new places, or playing an intellectually stimulating game, these shared experiences can strengthen your bond.

Introduce Like-Minded Individuals: Try introducing them to others who share their interests. This could be through academic circles, clubs, or groups dedicated to intellectual pursuits. Be patient, as Gallifreyans can be selective about their company.

Host Gatherings: Organise small gatherings where your Gallifreyan friend can meet new people in a comfortable setting. It's often easier to form connections in a relaxed, informal environment.

Leave Them Be: Sometimes, like a human, a Gallifreyan just wants to be alone, you should respect that too.

🛸 Building a Supportive Network

Many Gallifreyans have a complex relationship with their emotions, but with the right support, they can find joy and companionship even far from their home planet. Encourage them to reach out to other Time Lords if possible, as shared experiences and understanding can be incredibly comforting. However, also remember that human companionship can be equally as enriching.

🏫 So ...

Your concern and care for your Gallifreyan friend are evident, and that alone is a great foundation for helping them through this period of loneliness. Keep being a supportive and understanding friend, and they'll surely appreciate your efforts in making their time away from Gallifrey a bit less lonely.

Related:

How do I help a Gallifreyan who's homesick?: Steps you can take as a human to help a homesick Gallifreyan.

Factoid: What gift would suit my Gallifreyan and their biology?

Factoid: Why is my Gallifreyan a little bit giggly today?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[zz-chikorita]

JR Update

*Professor Farnsworth voice*: Good news, everyone!

So, I've been doing some thinking (scary, right?) about how my JR series is formatted strangely since I never used AO3 before then. But, I also remembered that it actually worked well for my first few dedicated readers who happened to not have English as their first language (if yall are still out there, i love you and I appreciate you!), so the use of ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, Scots, eye dialect, and pidgin English were sometimes difficult to follow. Having annotations made is possible for them to enjoy my silly little story. I also remember asking my early readers what their stance on smut was and more or less, they told me that was not what they were interested in, hence me posting smut chapters/scenes as separate works.

I acknowledge that the audience following this story is much broader since then and I also admit that, now that I know how to use AO3, posting a fic with chapters is a lot less prep work than the way I've done JR TwT

Be that as it may! I have decided to compromise! I will continue to release 'chapters' the way I have, complete with annotations as to make it accessible to anybody out there who may need it.

But, in addition! I've created a new work in the Hoist the Colors Series that will be a single work made of chapters and, yes you guessed it, it will be a less cluttered, streamlined version of JR. The story is the same, but hopefully, the formatting will make it a cleaner, more immersive experience. And also smut scenes will be integrated into it(although yall already know that's not what the story is about, so don't expect it to just become porn with plot all of a sudden)

So yeah, basically new parts to JR will be released as they normally were AND in a work I've simply titled Jolly Rogers: Guardian of Alola (ya know, keeping with the theme of all the parts being named after pokemon moves ;)

It will start from the beginning, and I'll also use this as an excuse to read and edit each chapter, because I just fucking KNOW there's gonna be a typo somewhere despite the fact I've read ALL of my chapters each no less than 300 or so times 🙃 Anyways, so for my sanity, my goal is to post a chapter a week, starting from the very beginning. Of course, I will be actively working on the story and will definitely post it as normal should I finish it before the chapters catch up to that point.

Does that make sense??? Just lemme know if yall have any questions.

Thank you everyone for your patience and for sticking with this story that I have put so much care and love into 💜 it means the world to me!

Mahalo, my friends! 🤙🌺 See you soon!

TLDR: I'm re-releasing JR in a work/chapter format that some may find easier to read. The story is exactly the same, though.

[plural-culture-is]

Hi! I recently found out that I'm very likely OSDD. My therapist stated that he doesn't think I'm distinct enough for a DID diagnosis, which I guess he's right as I still feel like they're all parts of me (and I'm not used to using "we" to call myself... yet?). I'm also not aware of any amnesia for full switching (twice and those only lasted for like less than an hour and I'm at contralling front again, if you know what I mean lol), so I guess I might be OSDD 1a and 1b.

The thing is, that makes us difficult to tell who is who, unless someone being relatively distinct speaks inside my headspace then I can tell by the tone or the contex (there's a "demon" and a "gaurdian angel"), and my little self doesn't show her preference difference except for that one time of short period of full switch. We don't really have our own names other than the name that this person has been living with. What else can we do to try to find out who are blended in co front/co con?

Also, how do we tell if one is DID but almost always co front/co con, or if that's OSDD 1b? Does OSDD 1b basically means DID/OSDD 1a but always co front/co con?

Figuring out who's who is something that generally gets easier with practice, but some things you can do is finding or writing a list of questions you can look over when you're blurry. These questions would be things like preferences, interests, age, pronouns, appearance, etc, whatever might be helpful for you. It's okay to not know the answers to the questions, but even just going with what seems sort of right can be helpful. You could also try looking through your system list to see who fits you best. And maybe if this isn't working because you aren't distinct enough, if you want to try to become more distinct, you could try things like finding names and separate interests. But as a side note, it's okay not to know who you are, you don't always have to know, and learning to be okay with sitting in the blurriness can be helpful.

OSDD-1b is DID but without amnesia. DID with rare complete switching is called partial-DID.

We used to think our host was permanently frontstuck and we could only co-front with him, until we found out we're monoconscious. That means we share a consciousness, so when we switch, we feel ourselves become the new fronter, rather than it feeling like someone is taking control of your body and the last fronter going into the innerworld or going unconscious. Although if you are able to do possession, as in you feel like another headmate is taking some or full control of the body from you, then you wouldn't be monoconscious, and you would always just be co-front in your case, and may have amnesia but you may only be able to tell after a full switch (which it sounds like you've experienced).

It does sound like you have OSDD-1a because your headmates aren't that distinct and they feel like parts of you, and you have some amnesia. Remember you aren't always aware of amnesia, and even if you do only have a small amount, it could still be enough to qualify for an OSDD-1a diagnosis.

[goldenpinof]

what you said about youtube being a unique stressor made me realize that dan doesn't really have the personality for internet fame. he is (and i don't mean this unkindly i just couldn't think of a nicer phrase) an attention seeker. he can be extremely self-absorbed and bordering on vain, and has also been highly reactive/sensitive to criticism in the past (this is less true or at least less public now). which is fine and even expected from many entertainers EXCEPT online. because unlike a musician, an actor, or even most comedians (depending on the style of their comedy), his fame is not dependant on a particular talent but on the persona he projects as a whole. success on youtube, at least the niche he's found on youtube, is dependant on parasocial attachment. people need to connect and relate to him (or at least his public persona, which when he was younger he had a lot of trouble separating from "him"). and the attention-seeking, vaulted attitude doesn't naturally lend itself to relatability. i think he's quite self-aware of this, and it certainly didn't hold him back at the peak of the dnp brand, but i think it's part of why youtube feels less comfortable for him than other forms if entertainment that have traditionally more of a boundary between creator and creation. his comedy is very confessional, so obviously it is about him, but it's also about the general quality of it as a piece of comedy writing, and the quality of the other aspects put into it by others. the book is about him, but it's also about the information within it and the quality of the writing. as you said, something he's made vs something he is

don't forget that i don't know for sure. i'm just basing my thoughts on what he says/does if i even remember it correctly.

you can be right. i like what you said about "a bondary between creator and creation", that makes a lot of sense. (my take below, i guess)

throughout the years he was the main target for attention and criticism because his content was his personality (more or less). and he doesn't like to be criticised, he doesn't really know what to do with it. but if you criticise his work (shows, book, board game), you criticise an object rather than him. and yes, Dan can be hurt by it as well (boo, how could you not like what i created?), but it's less personal. also, he can always think/say that someone just doesn't get it, it's not for everyone. if his projects still make money, who cares about "them haters". it's harder if your face or personality are viewed as unlikeable. like, "how could you not get my videos aka me and the experiences i had?" especially when you grow up and mature on the internet (18 to 25 are probably the hardest years when you are finally free to do anything but don't know shit and don't have money, also you just lost all your school/childhood friends and have to either decide on education or job. basically, alone. your whole worldview is shifting, and of course it's incredibly hard if all your fuck ups are on the internet). i bet he was stressing so much trying to appear likable to as many people as he could and to simultaneously please the algorithm (when it became important). alas! it will never happen on the internet.

i hope he really gives 0 fucks about how the content they are making now is perceived on social media. and about comments some people make when he posts certain pictures. he likes personal attention as well, so i do think a part of him enjoys internet fame (the positive side of it). he can't get everything irl, it's easier to receive it online. and he receives it online more than irl.

we will see how it goes, because tours are one thing. a book was a completely separate business. Dan is not okay, if it's a series on a big platform that is not youtube, would be a whole new experience for Dan, and for us because of the outsiders. there could be criticism (it's in people's nature) and i'd love to see how Dan works with it. he didn't pay any attention to the negative reviews his book received. maybe because he wasn't present online, idk. but some sort of series is a bigger deal.

[dp-marvel94]

Hi!

I (finally, don't know what took me so long) read Face to Face, and just, wow. I left a comment on the fic itself but I wanted to send something here too!

I was definitely surprised that they told Jack & Maddie so early in the fic, since that's usually part of the end of the fic, but I absolutely love the way you did it. Danny (both of him) having his family supporting him for most of the split is definitely better than him trying to figure it out himself.

Also very impressed by all the things you touched on! I know it would be easier to have them resolve a lot of the problems quickly, but them having setbacks (especially almost merging and failing) makes it so much more real.

I was a little worried you were just going to forget about them almost merging, to be completely honest. Should have known better. The way you brought it up when they finally told Jack & Maddie what happened was perfect. Poor all of them, really, working on/waiting for the ghost catcher without realizing they could merge on their own.

I love the way Danny has to accept himself- not just his ghost half, or his human half, but both of them together, to become whole again. Especially because it wasn't just something stated and accepted- they tried, twice, to merge but couldn't because they hadn't accepted themselves.

All the stuff with sharing memories and thoughts and occasionally using eachother's bodies is a fascinating concept. I wonder how Danny will deal with having two sets of memories from that week?

I read a comment on Ao3 that mentioned him learning to duplicate faster because of this, and I think it would be hilarious if he did it in the middle of a fight accidentally. Can see him panicking for a few seconds that they separated again before realizing he's still fine. Would duplicates be mindless? I know that's how most fics write them, though I think it would be more interesting if it was a situation they're both fully Danny, but other than that it's the same as when they were separate.

Imagine him working on homework the way they would when there were two of them and then just fusing back afterwards. I'd bet that it would be a little disorienting to not be in two places at once anymore, even if it's definitely a good thing. Maybe someone walks in on them doing homework or playing games or something idk and also freaks out a bit, that could be funny. There are so many things he could use it for.

There's more I could talk about, but this is pretty long already:). Can't wait to see more of Face to Face, and how our (now whole!) halfa reacts when he wakes up.

Link to the story at the end.

Thank you so much for reading! I saw your comment on the fic earlier. :)

Honestly, when I had the Dannys tell Jack and Maddie, I wasn't anticipating there to be so much story after. 😂 At that point, I knew that I wanted the boys' relationship with their parents to improve and for both halves to love and fully accept themselves. I guess I didn't realize how many chapters that would take.

But yeah, having Jack and Maddie in the know from early on definitely made things earlier on the Dannys. It also let me write a bunch of post-reveal content that was super nice.

And the sets backs! I loved making those emotional arcs more realistic. Healing takes a lot of time and is complicated. So it takes time for those conflicts to resolve and relationships to heal.

XD I think several people thought I was going to forget about the failed merge but bringing it up again was always in the plan. I couldn't have the Dannys remember until they were ready. I almost feel bad for all the stress and drama related to the Ghost Catcher.

Face to Face is a bit of an unconventional love story. Using split Danny to explore the idea of loving and forgiving yourself has been so exciting for me. I've talked about it a bit in other posts but before I started writing this story, I read pretty much all of the split Danny/ seperate Fenton and Phantom content that exists. A few stories touched on the themes I wanted (Here's a post I made listing a bunch of those fics.) but nothing dug as deep as I really wanted. So I wrote it myself.

Shenanigans with having two bodies was really fun to play with! I love love the mind-bending strangeness. And memories are so important to who someone is and how they experience the world. It ties into those identity questions I love to wrest with in fiction. As for how the whole Danny deals with two sets of memories, I'm planning on addressing that in the last few chapters. :)

And duplication shenanigans! I'm really tempted to write a tie-in one shot. And probably will eventually.... 😅

I'm also imagining it happening during a fight. Danny will definitely be confused and freaked out for a bit, before realizes he didn't actually split again. Danny has had so much experience existing in two bodies at once that his duplicates definitely wouldn't be mindless. He would probably have no idea which body is the original and which is the duplicate. Not that it actually maters, both are just him.

He'll definitely practice and use the skill to work on homework and talk about his problems. I can see that freaking people out. 😂 Granted, being in two bodies probably isn't the most comfortable for him and it does take some energy to maintain. So Danny can't do it all the time. But he's cool with it, since he can fuse back whenever he wants.

Thanks for the comment and ask again! I'm always happy to talk about Face to Face. If you have anymore thoughts or questions, I'd love to hear them!

[kun-summacumlaude]

SUMMA CUM LAUDE? #19

I am grateful to God for the completion of my second year in the university. 18 long months but it’s finally done. 

Welcome back my people, I have a number of things to include in this post, I’ve listed them so I don’t forget. Okay I just took a look at the list, and I don’t think I can remember what I was supposed to say concerning some of the things there. 

Actions Have Consequences

I was going to write about how I didn’t study during the election break, but I re-read that part of #18 and saw that I already mentioned everything. But now that the semester is over, I want to let everyone know that I didn’t really cover up for that one month. I tried hard, but the workload was more than I expected. I gave it my best but this time I won’t be so surprised if I don’t get away with it. In short, the feeling after my exams was that I could have been more prepared.

At this point I’m supposed to talk about how tough it was, but I cannot remember what “it” is. I’m guessing that was when I was really struggling with catching up on everything because exams were getting closer and closer, and I was just not ready for most of them. Guys, it was very tough. Before I go to extra-curriculars and other happenings I’ll talk about those little things that made the semester even more difficult for me. 

The little inconveniences.

The Office: I’m sure we all know about the office and its importance to me last semester. Well, a change in the seat position of my friend’s dad in the office was the end for me being able to study there and this was the beginning of my studying issues because I had nowhere else to go. I’ve already explained why the library couldn’t work for me. This was the reason I had to try studying on my bed in my room from 6pm and it didn’t work because I was always sleeping off. 

The “beam” for my bed: At some point last semester, the iron under my bed broke on one side and I used a bandage to hold it. That was okay for when I only needed to sleep on the bed but not this time around when I needed to study on the bed. I called the welder to get it fixed, it took this guy forever to show up. I don’t even know what he looks like because I wasn’t there when he came. Shortly after it was fixed, the other side of the same beam broke, broke as in separated from the rest of the bunk frame. I was back to square one. I called him back and he didn’t take ages to show up this time around. How did this beam affect my studying? Productivity on the bed went up by a lot when it got repaired. Studying was easier because there was something firm under me keeping me in the more comfortable position and I stopped sleeping. At that point, I began to regret not getting it fixed at the start of the semester. It made a huge difference. (God’s hand was in this though because a more comfortable bed means better sleep).

The essay: For the third time, that essay was a mess, and it made a mess. My lecturer was really bad this semester, but I still blame myself. Maybe this one is more than a little inconvenience though.

My stomach: I think I’m being a bit hard on myself and the reason is my stomach. There was a period where I was so fed up with how sensitive my stomach was. Every time I had the opportunity to leave my hostel early and study for a long period of time, I ended up having to wait behind because I needed to use the toilet. At some point I was only eating rice and spaghetti just to avoid this but that wasn’t enough. Shop 10′s ofada became my enemy this semester. After the second time, I never ordered it again, but those guys don’t listen at times and a few times I had to eat the oil and just the oil was enough to cause me problems. My stomach did not work with me this semester.

The Plank: this was one of those good little things God brought my way. I’m grateful for that plank, it made studying on the bed much easier. 

Now I’m meant to show you a cumulative curve, I don’t think I remember what I called a cumulative curve that day, it’s either my cgpa progression, the cgpa progression I use to set my goals, or I’ve totally lost track of what the cumulative curve is about. I’ll just show you both. The goal is to get at least a 4.50 every semester. So far, I’ve done well. I hope it’s 4/4 when all results are out for the just concluded semester. 

ULES & SEES Elections

Part of the plan for this semester was to be more involved. Well, I was definitely involved in the elections. Too involved even because tell me why there was drama within my department, and I was at the centre of it???

April 1, 2023: Yemi (Metallurgical and Materials Engineering, Year 4) approaches me to be on her ULES VP Campaign team for the upcoming elections. I agree because at the time I don’t really care, and she came to me before anyone else (I was recommended to her by a close friend). So Yemi and I get to work along with the rest of the campaign team, my duty is to get her votes from my course mates and set mates. My friend and I are in charge of our set. Everything was going well.

May 10, 2023: My old course rep sends a voice note on informing me that Funmi (Electrical and Electronics Engineering, Year 3) is running for the same ULES VP position, and she would hit me up to get my support and all. Isn’t this great?

May 21, 2023: Funmi finally texts me 11 days after I was recommended to her about aspiration and how she would need my support. Obviously, I’m not trying to look like an unreliable person, so I tell her straight up that I’ve already given Yemi my word and that I was doing a first come first serve thing and how I didn’t give much thought to it (I am never taking that approach to giving my support again).

Funmi won’t not try to sway me her way, we’re in the same department and so she needs her department behind her, which is understandable but at that point my mind was made up and I wasn’t going to switch after working with Yemi for 7 weeks. I knew Funmi before the election period. I joined the ELD train because of her. Although I knew her from afar sha, the koko is I knew her. If I had known she was going to be in the race for any position, I wouldn’t have given my word to any other person. I was really hoping she would forget to text me so I wouldn’t have to tell her no but that didn’t happen. She played the department card, even my course reps and others in the department did but I was going to be a man of my word for this election.

The entire thing kept on getting worse because more people got involved and obviously things like this get messy and someone somewhere was cooking up rumours that I was running some sort of smear campaign and that was really upsetting because I did not do such, never said one bad thing about her and I actually like her. I already told her why I couldn’t support her, so I don’t know what that person’s issue was. Different people were talking to me and so I had to make it clear that I wasn’t running against Funmi, I was running for Yemi. Sounds dumb but I’m just saying my goal wasn’t that Funmi must not win, the goal was for the person whose campaign team I was on to win.

I had to begin to consider my own future aspirations and which decision would work better for me. At this point I felt like a politician. I’m more likely to run within the department before jumping into ULES. So how would supporting Yemi or Funmi affect me? If I chose to side with Funmi and sly Yemi, it would make sense because Yemi would be in her final year while I’m gunning for a position within my department in which Yemi has no influence whatsoever. But if I decided to go on with Yemi, it meant actively campaigning for another department against my own department and this could actually affect my aspirations for the next elections because if Funmi’s people decide to bring up my “departmental treason”, I might not get votes from that class. If I jumped straight into ULES, I could try to get votes from other departments but that’s just not the plan. It’s SEES then ULES. So switching sides to Funmi seems the better option politically.

At the end of the day, I stuck with Yemi and she won by about 150 votes or something. More than my pull, so no one could blame me for that loss. It was a relief.

EEG 226

Every other course with the feeling of underperforming, I blame myself but regarding this course I do not blame myself one bit. I tried my absolute best but the course did not get better with time. It actually got worse. I failed both tests, scored 2.5/20. I don’t know how many marks the exam will be. I don’t know if our essay will be considered, but it’s just looking terrible at this point. I don’t even see myself getting a B, it is that bad. Even trying to follow his YouTube videos was so difficult, it made no sense and even with all the cramming experience from before, I can’t cram every single thing. The exam wasn’t the remontada exam I hoped for. And the lecturer did not help one bit. I’m even tired but it didn’t feel good to study throughout a semester and be lost through all of it.

The takeaway from all of this is that you have to start your semester well (which I kind of did) but when the challenges come, it is important to handle them properly to get the best of out your semester. I didn’t and now I have to wait and see how it turns out. We don’t do anything to deserve God’s mercy, but He is merciful to us. I’ll be alright by the grace of God.

Before I end, I just want to mention that I attended the ULES Career Fair, I had only one class that day, CEG221 and so I had to skip it (I didn’t think it would hold because they said classes would end at 12pm). I guess the lecturer didn’t get the memo. So, the one class I skipped all semester the lecturer decided to give out bonus marks for attendance because the class was empty that day. Such amazing luck.

Goodbye and God bless :)

[shadowlineswriting]

Rowling

I’m going to handle J.K. Rowling in two posts. She’s most known for creating the Harry Potter universe, of course, but she also wrote a realistic fiction novel after the initial HP series was done. It’ll be much easier to reflect on the two stories in separate blogs. 

So, Harry Potter. I had a complicated relationship with HP growing up. You see, it was written for my generation (meaning my age group was the first to experience the initial novel). All of my classmates were reading it when it came out. However, I was not allowed. My parents weren’t familiar with it and were concerned, I think, that I’d read HP and believe magic was real. As such, when it was on my Battle of the Books reading list in fifth grade, I was not given permission to read it and consequently had to sit out the part of the Battle that asked the HP questions.

Naturally, all this did was make me insanely curious about the books, especially since they just kept coming out (there are seven in the original series). By the time I’d reached high school it was all anyone could talk about whenever books and movies came up (by then, the first five books and the first three movies had been released). 

My family took a week-long trip to see some friends, and their kids showed me the first three movies (in the middle of the night when the adults were asleep, of course). I was instantly hooked (I defy you to find an 8-14-year-old who loves literature but hates HP). Having seen the first three movies, I was determined now to read the books, even if that meant defying my parents.

I read the first five books at school during study hall and lunch. My friend Caleb would loan them to me and I kept them in my locker to ensure my parents didn’t see a copy in our house. By the time this adventure was done, the sixth book had also come out and the fourth movie was hitting theaters. I really, really wanted to see it, and in my defense, at that point I’d told my parents that I’d read the books (I guess I figured that was a time when it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, since they couldn’t do anything about it by then). Therefore, my dad agreed to go with me to see the fourth movie. My little sister came, too (I have no idea why) and she got so scared by Voldemort that Dad had to take her outside the theater while I sat inside finishing the movie.

Anyway, since everything was out in the open by then, I was able to finish the seventh book when it came out my junior year. I was not allowed to attend the Barnes & Noble midnight launch party with my friends, but my friends were very nice and let me borrow a copy once they were done with it (which, given that it seemed like the whole world was waiting for the last book to come out, was pretty quick). That day I remember teachers giving up completely on getting anyone to pay attention. One of my teachers didn’t even try--she just let us read the books right there in class, I guess knowing that no one would concentrate until we knew whether Harry or Voldemort won the day.

I love the Harry Potter books for the same reason I respect the Twilight books: Rowling did something that no author had ever done. She created something unique that became its own world. To this day, the HP universe is still the highest-grossing literature series of all time and Rowling is the only author to ever break $1 billion (if you Google a list you’ll see that another author pops up, but her money came from inheritances, not book sales, so in my view Rowling wins that contest).

We also own three of the side novels: The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, and Quidditch Through the Ages. I’m not a huge fan of fictional supplemental literature, but these are very small--novellas, really--and they’re all first editions, so of course we’re going to keep them.

Say what you will about the story itself, I think it is impossible to respect storytelling and not give Rowlling credit for this incredible thing that she created. It’s on my bucket list to go to Harry Potter World someday, and I honestly cannot wait! 

I have mixed emotions about the fact that HP will next be turned into a seven-series TV show, but I have high hopes. A TV series will give room to stay true to the books in a way the movies never could (they had to cut SO much), but then again, they could really mess this up.

Guess we’ll see! 

[the-astrophel-system]

I really wanna laugh because you were so close, but actually so wrong. We saved this to our drafts, simply saying "wtf".

So let's unpack this, shall we? After all, you said posts like these invite responses. I'm going to go paragraph by paragraph, just to make it easier to see what exactly I'm addressing in your post.

- First paragraph, I disagree with you! I really like this post from OP, I'd say it's pretty effective. And no, they're not invalidating "traumagenic" systems. (I say traumagenic in quotations because OSDDID is inherently traumagenic, which makes the differentiation pointless)

- Next, I'd like you to actually provide some reasoning instead of just "this is untrue". Objectively, people with OSDDID don't have a full cohesive personality. OSDDID isn't "multiple personalities", it is the dissociation between oneself which results in fragmented personality states. You can't have more than one fully formed personality. That's just not how this works.

Let's use maths for one minute. Let's say you have 4 parts. If all parts fuse, you suddenly won't have four personalities, you'd have one. Because you can't have more than one. Each alter is less than one personality. Your personality never fully developed cohesively in the first place. OP is correct in their statement.

As for the point of asking OP to change their wording, what the hell makes you think you have the right to ask that? Coming from someone who used to cry at the thought that my parts are apart of me, someone who would fight and lash out and scream and beg that these are separate people, not me. Yeah, OP did a good job. The rhetoric that all alters are completely separate individuals is factually wrong, and not helpful in recovery. And don't get me wrong, you're allowed to not be at that point of recovery yet, please take your time and know that it's okay if you still need this separation to survive. I still need separation between certain parts if I want to be safe and happy. But you have no right telling another person that they can't talk about facts about this disorder, just because people aren't in that point of recovery yet. There will always be people at the start of recovery, same with at the end. Both can talk and be open about their experiences.

- Stating the fact that "if you didn't experience severe childhood trauma, you cannot be a system", is NOT derogatory, demeaning, nor invalidating to traumagenic systems! I honestly cannot comprehend how you got to that idea. This fact is not disrespectful, it is a fact that we have right now in the field of science.

Let's now address the part about "invalidating systems who struggle to see their trauma as "bad enough"". Once again, I have been in the position (and sometimes still think this!) where I've doubted whether or not my trauma was "bad enough". But guess what? It was traumatic to a child. I have trauma. I still have severe* and repeated trauma that gave me this disorder. If you think that your trauma is not bad enough to have this disorder, but you think you have this disorder, you need to address that in therapy. Seriously. Therapy has done wonders for us. It is not the internet's responsibility to validate you over whether your trauma was "bad enough". If you are traumatised by it, if you have OSDDID from it, then it was bad enough. Maybe you have trauma that you don't remember, but that's something for you to address in therapy. So again, if you can actually prove to me (because I see no proof right now) that the statement is false, please do.

*No you can't decide what is and is not "severe" or "traumatic" for anyone. But repeated trauma is needed.

- Not going to lie, you did an alright job at explaining the Theory of Structural Dissociation (ToSD), which is the leading theory right now. However, I almost laughed at how much you missed the actual point, and excluded some vital information. ToSD is worth the read yourself, but I'll do a better job at summarising.

Yes, everyone is born with different ego states that are in charge of different needs. Someone without OSDDID will have these needs met, have a healthy attachment to primary caregivers, and will slowly integrate these ego states throughout childhood. The "cutoff" is debated (typically 6-9 is thought), but let's just be really generous and say twelve years old is when this process finishes. Just because I don't feel like getting into that complexity in this post, and I'd like to use your broad number.

Someone with OSDDID will need all three things to be true: repeated trauma before twelve, a disorganised attachment to their primary caregiver/s, and the ability to dissociate to a high level. Some people are just naturally able to dissociate to higher levels, some people automatically jump to the trauma response of freeze, instead of fight, flight, or fawn.

Let's talk about disorganised attachments. There are four different types of attachment styles that children develop with their caregiver: Secure, anxious, avoidant (aka anxious-avoidant), and disorganised (aka fearful-avoidant). So why do insecute attachments form? I'll briefly summerise each one. Anxious attachments form when the parent/s are viewed as unpredictable or neglecting. This leads to the child becoming clingy, seeking reassurance and attention from parents, and scared of rejection or abandonment. Avoidant attachments when a child's emotional needs are neglected and they learn to not expect them to be met. They often become independent and don't talk about emotions or struggles, knowing they won't recieve support. Finally, disorganised attachments form from trauma, abuse, and general percieved fear. The parent/s behaviour is so inconsistent, unpredictable, and they are a source of fear. They may be abusive, or maybe the child keeps witnessing the parent/s abuse others. But the child isn't having some of their needs met, or maybe none, they are scared and feel like they can't share their thoughts and feelings.

Not having your needs met as a child, can be traumatic. Having a disorganised attachment to your caregiver is traumatic. You develop a disorganised attachment to your caregiver because of fear and trauma.

This leads to amnesia barriers, which makes it so the different ego states cannot integrate. Since they cannot integrate, there is no fully developed personality. Each state or alter will develop independently, however, will not develop fully, like a normal personality does.

- Once again, I do like what you pointed out about judging what is and what is not "severe". However, there are different kinds of trauma and different kinds of abuse, and some may be more severe in nature.

- I do agree that trauma is not just what happened to you, it's how you responded, it's how you handled it, it's how you were or were not supported.

- Harrassment isn't okay, doxxing, abuse, suicide baiting, and a lot of the other things endos do, isn't okay. Yes a lot of endos are children, however that does not make their behaviour okay. Someone needs to be teaching them how to act and what is and isn't okay. They need to understand that they are harming themselves by claiming to have OSDDID or have a system, without trauma. It is factually wrong, and it isn't helping them get the help and support they need. Because yes, clearly a lot of these children do need support. They don't have accurate words to explain how they feel, and that is why it's so important to teach them about the world, and to tell them when they are wrong about complex disorders. They are continuing to use the wrong terminology to describe their experiences and all that is going to do is hurt them.

They are invading spaces, trying to demedicalise a disorder, and many other shitty things I've already mentioned. I fully agree that you should not harrass or harm people, it isn't okay. However, they are doing more harm than only invading safe spaces, and they refuse to change their behaviour. I block as many endos I see and I still encounter horrible things they say, and blatantly untrue "information" they try to spread. They are causing serious harm.

Thank you to whoever read this far. You cannot change my mind about endos. Have a good night.

I've come across a few pro-endo blogs on my suggested spreading misinformation so I wanted to make a clarification.

"We are not saying we have DID, we are saying that we have some form of plurality"

Plurality as a concept is derived from childhood trauma. The mere existence of plurality in DID and OSDD is the result of heavy trauma and dissociation interfering with the development of a personality in a child. It is not multiple personalities that causes plurality it is the LACK of a personality. So no, if you did not experience severe childhood trauma you cannot be plural, you cannot be a system. There is no ifs or buts you simply cannot. Plurality as a concept has NO place for you as an endogenic system.

And a side note, there is no such thing as fakeclaiming an endogenic system - when your entire existence is a facade.

[hope-of-virgo]

I'm currently bedridden as a result of hormonal shit as it intersects with my autism (truly a new one; I was not expecting that starting HRT/getting my period would also make the symptoms of my autism more severe), so to pass the time I'm making an Accountability Post about my new year resolutions.

A lot of resolutions fall on their faces due to nebulous goals or ill-defined steps to completion; "go to the gym more" is a great one, but if you're not defining what "more" is, you're already off to a bad start. So the method I came up with was integrating a "traffic light report" into it. "Came up with" is a strong phrase; I lifted it wholesale from a tool we use at work. The theory is that if you separate a complex change into "stop doing, keep doing, start doing", you can more easily take steps towards completing each one.

Goals should also be fluid; I'm going to be reviewing the list every 3 months to ensure that any value drift is incorporated into the plan and that the ambitions are consistent with the amount of time I have available to achieve them. One of the things I miss about being in my 20s is that I seemed to have a lot more time on my hands, though that could very easily be mistaken for "remember how much time you had to spend on your goals when you were unemployed?".

Stop doing: Doomscrolling on my phone. This is a pretty easy one to knock off. I picked up this bad habit from my ex, and it only got worse in lockdowns because it was the only way I could keep up with people and get the news. Problem is, in the same way as videogames, it's mental health junk food for me. Feels great when I'm doing it and feels fucking awful when I stop. If I've been playing a game for several hours, I usually have a mild panic attack when I stop. Phone usage is a bit harder though, because I don't have an internet connection at my house, and because we use phones for so fucking much these days. I've currently got about 75 tabs open, most of them recipes, and I dread to look at the amount of time I actually spend on the nightmare rectangle. "Giving up Twitter" was actually easier than I thought it would be, as it's no longer particularly safe for trans people now that Phony Stark has taken over. I've noticed that my phone is a stim-tool more than it is anything particularly gratifying, so guess who's about to invest in a bunch more sensory tools? I've also noticed that knitting fills a lot of my fidget needs, and having an in-the-round project on the go in my cavern of a handbag lets me fill small gaps in time with something to do with my hands without having to commit to a full row of something worked flat. Masking my autism Truth be told, this whole "your hormones affect your autism" thing hasn't been all bad. It's made me realise how much of my life I spent masking, and having good autistic role models has made all the difference on this front. Autism acceptance has come a long way, even in the last 5 years. Transitioning socially was this big break-point of "you're about to do a thing and you're going to stop blending into the background as a result of that". I got through it by taking the dual view of "if you learn I'm trans and you suddenly don't like me, you never liked me", and "I'm trading my comfort for safety and not even getting safety. If I'm going to be in danger, I may as well be comfortable". Fortunately I live in a part of the country that isn't complete dogshit for trans acceptance. But back to the autism for a sec; wearing sunglasses and headphones when I need them makes all the difference, even when people go "what the fuck" when I do so in the supermarket. I bought a set of communication cards last year, and just having them at my disposal has been a relief because I have other options to communicate. Fiancee and I are going to be taking Auslan classes (I already use Auslan a bit) to reduce the verbal burden on me in public, both in terms of communication problems during sensory flooding and also voice dysphoria. More to the point, I have the right to exist in the world and take up space, and I'm no longer going to apologise for not being born with a neurotypical brain. They can fucking deal with it.

Making excuses not to go to the pole studio My pole studio is owned by someone I went to school with, and I had severe interpersonal problems with her sister in addition to having a punch-on with her brother at one point. I consider it water under the bridge, but they sure as fuck don't. Fact of the matter is, most of my pole problems are caused by interpersonal issues. I butted heads with another member of the studio several years ago, which can basically be boiled down to creative differences in not-for-profit accounting practices as well as not wanting to get sued for fraud by doing it her way. There's also an element of "there are huge numbers of mirrors there, and I have an eating disorder", but that's getting better with time. But because of the risk of running into some people I'm not super fond of, I've opted to steer clear as much as possible. That's gotta change, I don't do nearly as much apparatus work as I should. Likewise, given that I'm now running on estrogen, I don't have to be afraid of hitting the weights room anymore. Last year when I took my leave from work, I basically trained like a professional athlete for the entire month, and nearly died when I came back to the office and everyone was complimenting me about how broad my shoulders had gotten. Like, thanks folks, but I don't feel good about this at all. Gym will let me get the "fit girl" aesthetic that I'm going for, and I don't have to be afraid of growing a man's body anymore.

Keep doing: Cooking my own meals I'm pretty proud of the progress I've made on this front; for many years, I wasn't allowed to use the kitchen (whoo domestic violence!), and sort of forgot how to cook. I also got pretty bad anxiety about even being in the kitchen. I enjoy making my own preserves and making a bunch of food from scratch, including sourdough, cakes, cookies, etc. It's also better for me than whatever the fuck I was doing before, but that's also on eating disorder stuff. One thing I do have to work on though, is making a dessert once a week. I avoid sweet foods like the plague, and consigning an entire group of food to the "do not cook" pile because of internalised body image problems isn't particularly healthy. Also, paying a dietician who says "it's ok to have something sweet a few times a week" and then not following that advice seems a bit like I'm pouring good money after bad; don't ask for advice you're not going to listen to.

Gender affirmation Sure, having to replace an entire wardrobe of clothes is fucking expensive, but my "boy clothes" no longer fit me properly, and make me feel like shit when I wear them. My op-shopping buddy will be out of rehab in a couple of weeks, so at least I won't be running the gauntlet on my own. I'd like to learn how to do makeup a bit better as well, but that starts by actually geting out the tools and do some.

Watching new shows and listening to new music Fiancee and I have vastly different views on what constitutes good media, and it's also a reason why we'll have to have slightly different living spaces when we live together. While I wouldn't say her tastes in what's on the TV are bad, as such, I only have a limited amount of patience for Twitch and Youtube. At the same time, she doesn't like the more grounded and drama-heavy stuff that I watch. Lately when it comes to TV shows and movies, I've been watching it once and that's it (which is fine, even though it's a bit atypical for an autistic person), but I've been listening to the same 1600 songs on a loop for the past couple of years and it's getting a touch old. On a different note, I need to watch shows more readily when they're released, rather than waiting 6 months "just in case they're not renewed".

Start doing: Eating more vegetables Fresh fruit and veg has gotten really expensive over the last few months, and that's unlikely to change anytime soon. Bestie Jade and I have a joint vegetable garden at hers, but we're not likely to see fully self-sufficient output from that garden just due to the confined space. Even so, there's a "seconds" fruit shop here in town, and they actually have a pretty good range. It also helps that I'm vegetarian and don't have to cut meat to make room for it, but historically my diet has been a bit too heavy on pulses and prepackaged protein with not enough vegetables in the mix, and I definitely feel better when I have more fresh fruit and vegetables in the mix. (Breaking news: local demigirl discovers benefits of a healthy diet)

Actively reducing household waste This one's been shitting me off for years. I have a deep-seated dislike for single-use packaging, which is a sentiment a lot of people seem to be joining me in. Probably the best buy I had last year was a roll of beeswax wrap; I have no idea how much plastic wrap I saved from landfill because of it, but it would have been significant. Health food shops will usually let you bring your own containers. Fiancee and I have started transitioning towards reusable consumables services that basically give you a permanent container for your, say, dishwashing liquid, and then you send back the plastic bag that the liquid came in and they refill it. The return postage is also included in the subscription cost. Granted, this adds to the CO2 footprint a bit, but if there was already going to be fuel used to take the rubbish to the tip, I consider this a win. It'll also be much less of a concern the more that logistics transitions to renewable energy sources. Besides, going to the health food shop gives you access to a whole bunch of stuff that just straight up isn't at the supermarket. This isn't a "wellness culture" thing, the benefits of wholefoods and low-processing are nebulous and subjective at best, but the fact of the matter remains that it's the only place I could find soybeans or linseeds.

More longform journaling Most of what I did on Twitter was use it as a mindfulness tool, and while a character limit did make me get to the fucking point, it also reduced my ability to write coherently on a single topic.

Diversifying my income sources Outside of my civvie job, I run a business. It's been pretty dead for a while industry-wide, but just having my job not be a singular point of failure for income was a good thing. My professional interests have changed, which is fine, but it does need a fucking good overhaul and a new business plan.

Interior decorating My house looks like a hellscape at the moment, but due to changes in rental laws, I'll actually be able to do shit like "hanging paintings". I'm installing a whiteboard to help with my executive dysfunction, and I've been meaning to organise and decorate my kitchen. I moved house on average every year all through my 20s, and I never thought to make my space more pleasant.

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[musesofthemoon]

distortionary​:

“Sand… castle?” Clear would repeat the words, trying to imagine what exactly that was. He knew what both were well enough separately, but something like a castle made of sand didn’t seem very stable… How would that even be built within a day? Wouldn’t they have had to leave it behind to return home, or would they just live inside of it after it was finished?

“You’ve… actually been there, I think. You mentioned you and your brother were looking for it before. That was how your friend’s invention worked, right?” he continues speaking, though the reminder of his home was bittersweet at best. “Or, at least, you may have been to part of it… Most of Teros is gone.”

There was that distinct pang of guilt at the mere mention of his home, the crystalline shard that still floated before him yet almost seeming to flicker for just a moment. There was much he knew could not be changed; even if Chaos had not been there, with the state of everything that had begun to happen… He wished he knew more to tell her, but he was long since used to such things - even well before his home was added to Wonderland. The child wasn’t even particularly good at cheering people up, if his attempts to aid a particular Misterican were anything to go off of.

“…But, maybe that means something more then, for both you and your brother.” Clear finally says, though his gaze falters once more. “There’s… a lot of people who have given up doing anything near what you two have.”

He was one of them, after all.

“Oh, right-” It had taken her quite a while to realize that he probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about. Did other worlds have activities like Earth, or would they find enjoyment in other things? “Well, making a sandcastle is like. You take some sand. You’ve gotta make sure its wet, and then you make it in the shape of a castle!” It sounded so nice just to do it, though she could remember the heartbreak of having a sandcastle be washed away but a rouge wave... They will be missed.

But then the conversation came to Teros... It was a name she remembered, but it was only just a small stretch of ocean that it rested around. It was hard for her to completely understand the idea that every place they’d been to in Wonderland was its own, large world once upon a time. It was such a large scope, compared to what remained. Now, she could only imagine what his whole world might have looked like.

“I remember that place, where we were heading to get more of the flying water! It was really pretty, but I bet it was even prettier while there was more to it...” It was probably a bit calloused to say it like that, but she didn’t think about that too much. After all, it was probably true that it was amazing back in its prime.

She then wondered what it might mean that she kept on trying. That she kept trying to find her end goal no matter what happened. It was certainly hard sometimes but... There were people stronger than her who gave up everywhere.

And yet, she already thought she knew the answer of why, despite how hard it could be for anyone to find that same answer. “At least I don’t give up because there’s so many people there who have been trying hard too. Everyone has a goal, and they’re working toward it! I guess, that makes me want to try too, so I don’t get left behind,” Thinking about it all, she smiles despite how dreary she felt earlier. Maybe it was easier for her to come back from hardship since she’d seen so much already. But even she couldn’t say it for certain...

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

[luimagines]

Waking Up Next to Him

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the adventure. It’s long so it goes under the cut!

Time

The bright sunlight winked just beyond your eyelids at an blinding angle. Your back was against warm though and was surprisingly comfortable despite the growing ache in your neck. There’s a weight over your shoulder, pinning you in place but doesn’t dig in. A thrown blanket is covering your body and the secret weight, even if half of it has ended up on the forest floor. You’re too tired to think of what the weight can be. All you know is that it’s comfortable and you don’t feel like moving. A heartbeat passes and the solid form on which you lay shifts. 

A groan.

More shifting.

Heat flushes your face slightly as you resign to get up, trying to play the whole cool, once you realize what, or rather who you passed out against.

“Mornin’ Time.”

Your pillow takes a minute to assess the situation.

It’s early, none of the others are up yet. Too tired from the journey the day prior, but the resident chef wakes up the earliest to cook breakfast on time. He’s asleep now but won’t be for long. You thank the stars and your luck that you woke up before him. No pictures for him to take this time.

Time grins, seemingly unbothered by the events and sighs good naturedly. “Good morning.”

Twilight

It was a cold night. They told you it would be. Both your traveling companions and the breeze as you settled with the day’s end.

But you couldn’t have guessed how cold it turned out to be.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Discomfort and shivers kept you awake. Your blankets were warm but not warm enough. At some point, in the middle of the night, you gain the warmth your tired brain was waiting for before drifting off to sleep. 

When you wake, you can’t breath.

Hairs tickle your mouth and nose and there’s a large and heavy being on top of you. At first you think it’s Wind because the shape is much to large to be four but smaller than some of your other companions.

Further analysis and you realize that it’s not hair but fur, that’s threating to enter your lungs and the color of the material seems awfully familiar.

“...Wolfie, I love you but you’re killing me. Get off.” You weakly push the beast away, not coherent enough to move your limbs and piece together how to be a functioning human yet.

The creatures blinks up at you, having just woken up as well and notices your open eyes. A yawn and crushed ribbed where he stepped to get off later and your freedom has been duel earned.

You take a breath of relief and grin, only now noticing the cold with the rising sun to be a little more barrable than the previous night.

“Thanks buddy, you’re a walking heater. I probably would have been a popsicle if it hadn’t been for you.” He nods in acknowledgment and swiftly turns away before you can reach behind his ears to thank him properly.

You look up and see Wild and Time already awake, not talking. Warrior looks to just have woken like you today. Not unusual but welcoming nonetheless. Wind and Sky probably won’t wake up for another hour or two and Hyrule and Four always wake up a little after them. No one knows for sure when Legend will get up because its never consistent and Twilight seems to be missing as well.

The ranch hand emerges from the tree line seconds after you realize he was gone to begin with. He smiles at you and waves in greeting.

You wave back and try to dust the wolf hairs off of your clothes.

You missed Twilight’s subtle smirk.

Warrior

It was a hard fight and not a safe place to stay put but the dungeon left you with little option. Separated from the group and low on provisions and healing items, you and Warrior realize that your both running low on fumes. Taking refuge in a secluded corner, hopefully far away from any potential monsters and threats, you rest.

Waking up is hell.

Sleeping back to back was probably not the best idea but neither of you wanted to risk an ambush. Shifts were supposed to be taken but given that you both fell asleep says something about your energy levels and the previous fights.

Your neck hurts, your legs are sore, your butt and hips are not thanking you for the treatment and everything ache will familiar but expected battle wounds. None major but each one takes its toll.

“You up?” Warrior stands up as if he wasn’t bleeding from the shoulder yesterday and he also didn’t sleep sitting for who knows how many hours.

“I am clearly sitting Captain.” You mutter. “I am not up. I refuse to be up.”

“You know as well as I do that we have to get to the others. What if they need help?”

“I’d argue we need the help. Everything hurts. We have no fairies and there’s more dungeon ahead of us with obviously more enemies and traps and puzzles...” The puzzles... were the worst. “Just five more minutes....Please?”

Warrior says your name in a way a tired mother tries to get her stubborn child to listen to reason. His face twists at the idea and when he attempts to look over his shoulder to check your surroundings, it instead contorts in a pained grimace.

So his shoulder pain was still there after all.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

Sky

As expected, Sky goes down for the count within the first few minutes of the mandated lunch break. Unfortunately after a rumble or two and strange smoke coming from the distance that decidedly wasn’t there when you first arrived, the group decided to investigate.

Legend goes to shake Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him but it’s all in vain.

Sticks are drawn after a long and loud argument about what to do and yours in the shortest.

Everyone else goes to check out the commotion and you are stuck with babysitting duty. It’s not bad all things considered- he’s asleep- no actual babysitting happening. But part of you can help but grumble about missing the action so you sit non too gently next to him and decidedly not pout.

Your stomach is full and the sun light begins to feel heavy and warm and nice.

Your eyes close before you can fight it.

Some time later, you’re shaken awake. Adrenaline fills your system instantly but upon seeing the laughing face of Sky himself, you remember yourself and only marginally resist the urge punch him.

“Feel better?” You ask instead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He chuckles and points to his chin.

You wipe across the area and your hands comes back wet, cold and covered in drool. 

“You saw nothing.”

“Oh sure, but Wind did.”

Great.

Now it’s on his pictobox. That’s blackmail material in his favor, you suppose and refuse to acknowledge it further.

Wild

When you wake up, it’s still dark. Not even close to sunrise.

The fire burns bright and warm throughout the area but it’s not the fire that’s keeping you warm.

You also find out you can’t move.

You crane your head slightly to find long hair draped over your shoulder and a familiar scarred ear belonging to the resident champion.

He wrapped around you completely, hugging you tightly and pining you down with a leg to boot. 

You attempt to shimmy out but his grip tightens instead.

You sighed and watch as Twilight comes into view. He crouches closer and squats on Wild’s side, whispering to you. “Do you need help getting out? I can wake him to take over Hyrule’s shift for the night.”

You take a minute to rethink about your position. It’s not painful. The opposite actually. It feel nice. You’ve seen Wild cling to who ever he can get his hands on when he sleeps so you’re not surprise. 

You don’t need to pee or leave anytime soon anyway.

“No, I think I’m good actually.” You reply, whispering as well. “Let him sleep, it’s been a day for everyone.”

Twilight nods and leaves, but not without looking back once or twice in case you changed your mind.

You shimmy back in place and allow yourself to be held by your friend. 

Sleep comes easier this time.

Hyrule

Gentle fingers card through your hair. Warmth, magic and the unusual feeling of safety plague your mind. Confusion hits you but the alarm that typically follows never comes.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re awake.” A voice fills your ears. It’s muffled and must have been quiet to begin with because you can’t make out who said it yet. 

Organizing your thoughts feels like traveling through knee high mud.

Your eyes blink open and the light comes through.

The Traveler is leaning over you, thankfully blocking out most of the sun from immediately assaulting you. 

“Hyrule?”

“You had us worried for a minute.” He visually sags with relief, a tired smile on his face and leans back. “You took quite a hit.”

Your head feels swollen but as Hyrule continues to push your hair back it dissipates as time passes. Your thoughts clear and with his help, you sit up.

A hand places itself by your temple. It takes a half second before you realize it’s yours.

It comes back covered in dried blood.

Sky runs over after tending to Four with what looks like a bloodied wet cloth. He sits down slowly and begins to clean your head in a familiar fashion.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You tired voice comes through and a worn out smile follows soon after.

“Anytime.”

Wind

It’s nice day. 

According to some people.

Dark clouds cover the sky, the sun nowhere to be seen. It pours cats and dogs and the only cover for miles is a lone cave where your group currently takes up residence. Everyone’s wet and your clothes feel heavy and cold. No one is happy. 

Wild, Twilight and Legend dive deeper, intending to check out if any monsters reside in the cave.

Hyrule insisted on traveling with them but Warrior’s concussion and Time’s bleeding leg call for further attention and Legend claims to have more magic restorative potions than healing potions.

He stays behind.

Four and Sky take over the food while he’s distracted, trying to make a half decent meal before he intervenes.

Wind is groaning, sore and bored but otherwise unharmed.

You don’t make any comments at your own pain, biting your tongue and taking a deep breath. As you lean against the stone wall, Wind stomps up next to you and sits down with purpose.

“I could’ve gone with them.” He slams his fist into his cheek with his elbow on his knee.

“But you didn’t. It’s not so bad.” You said.

“They didn’t want me to go.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m just as good as them you know.”

“I know and you make a better pillow.” You says, throwing yourself sideways with your head landing on his lap. He squawks indignantly and attempts to push you off but you hold on. “Sorry, you make the best pillow.”

“NOOOO!”

“YEEEESSS!”

“Nooooo.” Wind keeps his hands on your back but you’ve misjudged your exhaustion. You’re out in seconds.

A moment passes.

“Hey, hey, hey.... wake up. You have to eat.” A small hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hm?” You blinked tiredly. There’s a bowl if front of your face and you don’t hesitate to grab it. “Thanks.”

“You’re heavy.” A voice calls from behind. The owner lets you take the bowl and begins to gently push you off into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It was supposed to be a joke but thanks for letting me sleep.” You admit and smile at the pirate. 

“You trapped me.” He pokes your side, trying to look annoyed but falling flat. There’s a joke in there somewhere. You’re missing something.

The others have come back while you were out of it, all either have hidden smiles or failing to hide their shaking shoulders and snickers.

Curious and a little self conscious you looks into the provided meal, your reflection greeting you as always.

A lightbulb goes off over your head.

“DID YOU DRAW ON MY FACE?!”

Four

There’s a force dragging you down but there’s two arms under you.

It’s very concerning for a moment but then....the size of them catches up to you.

Your head snaps up and comes face to face with a very surprised Four.

“Hello.”

“...Hi.”

“Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?””

“You’re leading with that?” Four snorts and continues walking, unbothered by your weight in his arms.

“How...?” You trail off trying to find the right words to explain what happening to you. You don’t feel any pain and nothing feels injured....but the lack of memories is a little concerning.

“How am I holding you?” Four smirks as he guesses incorrectly. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I was going to ask how did I fall unconscious. I don’t remember anything. I’m more surprised by that than the fact that you’re holding me despite being half my size.��� You blinked and try to keeping searching through your memory.

Nothing comes up.

“Wizrobe.” Four answers causally with a shrug. “It caused some chaos, fought another wizrobe and you got caught in the cross fire between the two of them before we could intervene. Their attacks canceled each other out well enough that you weren’t actually injured but uhh..... Well I suppose you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Four.” You glare in warning.

“Maybe don’t look at your reflection for a while. Legend, Twilight and Hyrule all agree that it’ll fade with time but...”

“What are you talking about? What happened to me?” You sit up a little in his grip, Your arm reach over his shoulders and something wrong catches your eyes.

Your skin is green.

Your shocked silence stills your entire body. Four winces once he follows your eye line and stops to place you on your own feet.

“It could be worse?”

You stare a little while longer and look back to Four with hopeful eyes. “Think you can knock me out again?

He’s not amused.

Legend

You blissfully wake up for the first time in a week. 

It’s been an easy week in terms of travel and attacks so the boys take it upon themselves to cause trouble and it hasn’t been merciful to your sleep schedule.

They are the very incarnation of that thing your hometown friend used to say. How did it go again? If there’s no trouble then I’ll create it? Something along those lines.

But this is different and you don’t plan on wasting it.

You close your eyes and attempt to go back to sleep while you can but hushed voices reached your ears, keeping you awake before you can tune them out.

“Should we wake them?”

“You know how Legend is. He can be as bad as Sky and he had a rough night to boot.”

“But he’s right on top of them and they promised to show me how to fight in hand to hand combat.”

“You have all day for that and they didn’t say it was going to be today.”

“But I‘m excited! I want to start as soon as possible.”

“Will you idiots keep it down?” A voice by your shoulder speaks up. It lacks the usual snark it posses but the intention for venom is there. “Some people took double shifts last night. Shut up.”

You breath a small sigh of relief as the voices abruptly cut off and don’t return for a long minute.

The body next to you stills.

Three heartbeats pass and the unnoticed weight gets off of you.

You pretend to be asleep still, not wanting him to push you away so early in your relationship. He’s just started to get used to you.

You’re determined to be his friend before everything ends.

He’s determined to avoid that.

It’s been a battle of wills.

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

But this could tip the scales in his favor if you fail to play it off correctly.

“No one say anything.” Legend hisses. “Not. One. Word.”

You make the mistake of stretching. 

“You’re up! You’re up! You’re up!” Wind practically pounces on you, knocking his name sake out of your lungs and demolishing any chances for a peaceful morning. “We can start now!”

“Can I eat first at least?” You groan out, not bothering to fight him off.

“Wind. Off.” Time calls out and the boy follows the command without question. He quickly kneels by your side though, practically vibrating on the spot.

You sit up and look around.

Looks like you were the last one up.

“Morning everybody.” You smile. You glance at Legend who unluckily has the tips of his ears tinted red. His arms are crossed and he’s avoiding looking at you, even greeting you as the rest of the group return your call.

You smirk. “Good morning Legend. Did you sleep well?”

He huffs and turns away completely, taking a few steps to leave.

You get to your feet, shadowed by Wind and head to take your share of the food from Wild.

A beat passes without any words exchanged and you tilted your head innocently at the Veteran. You refuse to let it be awkward between you so you pretend you know nothing.

The blush travels down his ears to his face and neck. “I did. Thanks for asking.”