#but to whoever the anon who messaged me about that all those years ago to correct me; thank you for that

[nik-barinova]

Quick PSA about Doe

I know no one has done this, but I just wanted to make something clear and make sure people understand this.

When talking about Doe, please for the love of god, do not refer to her as a “gypsy”. It’s actually a slur used against the Romani people that has a very long history of being used as a derogatory term.

Yes, I know there are some groups of Romani people who have reclaimed the word, but for the most part, and respecting other Romani people’s wishes, just don’t use it when asking me questions about her or just talking about her.

Also, there’s no reason for any one to be making anti-Romani jokes about her. I really do not tolerate that stuff and it’s also really unfair to me who has a deep respect for the Romani people.

Thank you and hope you understand this! 🫶

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

normally i don’t do this BUT since the medication i took yesterday brought out a rage in me i have not felt in a long time, there is someone i would like to warn you all about below the cut. i won’t mention any names, but if you want to know who it is, just message me privately (i will not answer anon asks about it publicly). i have evidence via logs that this happened if anyone needs them.

if you have mental illness, STAY AWAY FROM THIS PERSON and do not share your experience with mental illness anywhere they may see it. they are active in the three houses community.

this person is someone i used to talk to in a server. however, after i shared my experience with mental illness and how it affected me at a young age, they told me outright in front of a lot of other people in a server that my issues were my own fault. yes, after sharing my experience with mental illness as severe as clinical depression and borderline DID/MPD, they told me those things were my own fault.

they ALSO told me any actions of my sixteen year old self, within my depressive MPD state, were my own fault and implied that the actions of my sixteen year old self were the fault of my 28 year old self. yes, i’m saying that this person outright expressed that whoever i am now is still the same person as who i was at sixteen during extreme depressive episodes that i had blackouts during (blackouts meaning, i have no memory of what occurred during the blackouts and did not have memories of such things at the time they happened). they are saying that anything i did at age sixteen due to my mental illnesses are now the fault of my 28 year old self.

PLEASE for the love god stay away from people like this. they are dangerous and terrible people for those of us with mental illness.

i’ve been terrified of coming out with this and admitting it publicly, but at this point i think you all should know someone has recently done this to me and is still active in a community on tumblr. PLEASE do not make people, who tell you that your mental illness is your own fault, feel like good people, because they are not. they are even worse people when they try to tell you these things in front of many other people, and also do so with the intention of driving you away.

in other words, this person decided they didn’t like me (evidently bc of something i don’t have any recollection of happening that supposedly happened over five years ago. mind you i did not know this person back then, and what they said happened, to my understanding, did not happen after speaking about the supposed incident with friends who knew me those five or more years ago), and bc they didn't like me, they pushed me out of a community by blaming me for things that occurred due to my mental illness over ten years ago. basically, they didn't like me so they tried to use my mental illness as ammunition to drive me away.

basically, if you were involved in anything over ten years ago due to mental illness and you still have mental illness today, they will tell you your mental illness is your fault. i have logs for this if anyone wants to see them.

this person is extremely toxic and people like this are disgusting horrendous brats to me. sorry about the yeehaw language, but people who are this horrible don’t deserve to exist as far as i’m concerned. oh also, they talk hella shit about other people for doing exactly this stuff... that they did to me.

no amount of “but i have mental illness too uwu” makes it okay to attack others for their own mental illness. you are NOT better than ANYONE just because you  have a different mental illness.

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[hoshalicious]

ATEEZ reaction to you reading them a love poem

anon asked : heyy! i would like to request an ateez reaction to their girlfriend (who's good at poetry) writing a love poem for them. thank you, have a good day😁

author's note : Hi!! It has been so long since I've written here! I do apologize if it is a bit rusty but I am definitely going to be more active and post more from now on. As for the request, I did change it up a little. I made it to where their partner loves reading poetry and used poems from other poets (who are credited and if I was not able to find the creator anonymous was listed). I do not take credit for any of the poems written. As well as making the reaction gender neutral. Whoever requested this did so like over a year ago so this is very late but I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to send requests!

warnings: very SLIGHT cursing (two curse words in Wooyoung's reaction)

Park Seonghwa :

“I can’t think of anything more beautiful than being loved by you.” - Samantha King

Seonghwa has always known you loved poetry.  You owned hundreds of poetry books, by many authors, yet you could never have enough poetry books.  You love books in general, but poetry, especially the poems about love, are the ones you read the most.  You grew to love them more than ever before, because of the very special man in your life, someone whom you could think of while you read those poems.  You could identify with the poets who feel or have once felt the love you now feel.  The poem “I can’t think of anything more beautiful than being loved by you” by Samantha King is the poem you showed Seonghwa.  His smile became so bright.  As his cheeks also turned a perfect shade of red.  Seonghwa looked up at you with utmost admiration, he said “I will always love you, it is what comes easy to me.”  You have fallen in love with the most perfect man.

Kim Hongjoong :

“Of all the maps in the world, the only one I will follow is the map to your heart” - Courtney Peppernell

Hongjoong was the man who showed you love the way no other person was able to.  It seemed as if he was made from the mold as you were.  He saw you at your worst and cheered you at your best.  Hongjoong was always so supportive of your poetry addiction, buying you any poetry book that he thought you’d like.  He bought you a poetry book written by Courtney Peppernell, and you sent him a text since he had recently went on tour of the one that made you think of him the most.  “Of all the maps in the world, the only one I will follow is the map to your heart”.  You expected an “awh” or an “I love you so much” but instead you received an “Please learn to read maps babe it is an important skill”.  He then called you and told you how much he loved, appreciated, and couldn’t wait to see you!

Jeong Yunho :

“You might not have been my first love, but you were the love that made all the other loves irrelevant.” - Rupi Kaur

You picked up a book by Rupi Kaur at the store, you had seen a few of her works that people have posted on their instagram stories.  You weren’t used to reading this kind of poetry, usually sticking to older versions that were harder to read.  You were drawn to this book because it was different from what you were used to but the messages of importance were there. 

The poem “You might not have been my first love, but you were the low that made all the other loves irrelevant” made you think of your boyfriend, Yunho.  You had been in a couple of toxic relationships, and some that weren’t toxic but with people you didn’t seem to mesh with.  Yunho was your first healthy and stable relationship in a while, and this poem made you think of how lucky you were to have someone like him.  Yunho was tired from practice, but he loved to hear you talk regardless. 

He’d listen to you read for hours as he fell asleep but he’d try his hardest to stay awake because he loved the sound of your voice being so content.  Sometimes you wonder if he listens to what you are actually saying, and you have noticed that a lot of the time he doesn’t, but it doesn’t bother you.  As you got to the poem “You might not have been my first love, but you were the low that made all the other loves irrelevant” you said “Yunho, this poem makes me think of you”.  He replies with a soft “Mmh” and you whisper “thank you for loving me the way I deserve to be loved”.  A smile had plastered on his cheeks along with a slight red tint.  He motioned for you to lay with him, and he held you until you both fell asleep.

Kang Yeosang :

“Two hearts in love need no words” - Marceline Desbordes Valmore

This is you and Yeosang’s special day.  You used to be afraid of getting married, but with Yeosang you have no fear.  This man has loved you with all of his being since the first day he met you and you have full confidence that he will continue to do so for the rest of his days.  The one thing you were a little anxious about was the vows.  You didn’t want something so traditional that so many have used because you wanted to do something a bit different but you ended up coming up with this.

“I have been so excited to marry you, but writing the vows have always scared me a little bit.  I want it to be perfect, I know that is impossible but I hope they are good enough.  I’ve taken you to be my lawfully wedded husband in front of all these guests here and someone close to me said to write something super cheesy here.  But cheesy sometimes makes me cringe and what I wrote is a bit cringe but not too bad.  I read a poem by Marceline Desbordes Valmore that really stuck with me because I’m not good with words.  The poem says ‘Two hearts in love need no words’.  I believe that is true, I’ll always tell you that I love you, but we both know that we love each other enough that words aren’t needed.”

Yeosang chuckled a bit as well as many others in the crowd at the wedding.  You saw a tear fall from his right eye.  It was his turn to say his vows and you were excited to hear what he had to say.

“I have now taken you to be my lawfully wedded partner.  You say that you are not good with words, but the way you articulate your words has always amazed me.  Your vows had the right amount of cringe, but I'll find a way to lightheartedly tease you about them somehow.  ‘Two hearts in love need no words’ is an accurate statement, but I’ll never get tired of telling you that I love you, even if it’s every minute.  I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Choi San :

“You’re my sunshine on a rainy day”- Anonymous

San was always learning languages to better connect with atiny and for himself in general.  You are fluent in English so you help him with that when you can.  You read to him when he is doing miscellaneous activities.  You were feeling kind of sappy and you decided to read him poems that you can find in edits.  San always makes witty comments so you always had to be prepared.  “San, you’re my sunshine on a rainy day”.  San’s witty comment to this was “what am I to you on sunny days?”  You rolled your eyes and said “You’re my eternal sunshine.”  San’s eyebrows perked and he then said “smooth.”

Song Mingi :

“I hope you always find a reason to smile”- Anonymous

You and Mingi had been dating for years but the way you loved each other was similar to a young love.  You both were really cheesy with each other.  But for you guys, this was a way that you helped keep the love “alive”.  You and Mingi had always helped each other when things got rough so you could be your best together.  Mingi knows you like corny little poems and he always smiles really bright when you would say something corny.  The poem you wanted to tell him today was not exactly corny because you truly meant it.  Mingi had just come home from working all day and you wanted to give him a pick me up.  You said “Mingi, I have a poem I want to tell you.  I hope you always find a reason to smile!”  Mingi smiled really bright as he always does and replied “You are always my reason to smile, my love.”

Jung Wooyoung :

“I discover a bit more of myself while getting lost in you”- Mohita Menon

Wooyoung LOVES to make fun of you.  Obviously with a light heart and he could usually read the situation of when he should or shouldn’t make fun of you.  He always has something to say when you are reading your poetry.  Whether he decided to read a poem or two from the books you’ve bought or he was going through your explore page on Instagram and saw some here.  You were reading poems from your google search, mostly because you were bored.  You didn’t even notice Wooyoung was reading from behind your back.  You had kept the same poem up, which was “I discover a bit more of myself while getting lost in you.”  Your daydreaming was interrupted by Wooyoung whispering in your ear

“Do you think if I tried hard enough, I could spell that poem word for word with my ass?”  He chuckled and walked away.  But it got you thinking… Could Wooyoung spell that poem word for word with his ass if he tried hard enough?

Choi Jongho :

“When you look at me, I know, you are everything I want”- AP

You’ve always been really shy and super bad with words.  You don’t always know how to verbally express yourself, but that is why you read poetry.  The poems have been written by somebody who has felt what you are feeling, so this is how you express yourself to many people, especially Jongho.  You send him poems, usually you write them on slips of paper and give them to him.  Mostly because you get a tad embarrassed.  You don’t wait for Jongho to do anything after you give him the notes, because you just want him to know how you feel. 

The poem you wrote for him today was “When you look at me, I know, you are everything I want.”  You walked into your office and started to look through files to distract you for a bit.  Today, Jongho decided to do something a bit different than what he usually does.  He found you in your office and gave you a hug from behind.  He rested his face in the crook of your neck and you melted into his grasp.  Then he said as he held you “You know I love you a lot and always will.  I appreciate your notes and I save them all.  You’re the best, love.”

-daisy 11/28/21

[oh-katsuki]

tw: mostly just me talking about a small act of kindness on here a little while ago that I still think about sometimes, mental health, mentions of being in a bad place (previously, not currently), mentions of depression

yknow I think a lot about how bad of a place I was in last year. but I especially think about one particular message I received that I’m pretty sure saved my life.

it was the most simple thing. an anonymous message sent to my side blog (my previous one) on a night when things were particularly bad. and I had been up that night feeling completely empty and just kind of thinking about how much better things would be if I didn’t exist. just in a really dark place. feeling alone and generally in one of the worst mental places I think I’d ever been in. and then I got a message that said something along the lines of “I see you hurting. you are seen and you are loved.” and I broke down into full tears reading it. i sobbed like a baby.

they didn’t necessarily promise better things, but it was enough to know that someone out there cared enough to look at my hurt and send me a kind message. like I cannot express the effect reading “you are seen” had on me that night. i think it may have saved me just a little, though I don’t remember much from that time. it ended up becoming a message I went back and looked at whenever I was in that place again over the next month or so. i dunno, something about knowing that someone saw and that I wasn’t completely alone changed my outlook and ability to cope. that message had a sincere and profound effect on me.

i don’t even know who they were. i don’t know if they still follow me, if they were a mutual messaging on anon, if I’d ever even spoken to them before. but I remember the way it felt to read that message in that moment. i remember how relieved I was to see that someone saw me. and I don’t even know who it was. but it really helped because it was the right message at the time that I needed it most. i honestly don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

i know that all sounds really creepy to say. it’s been over half a year since I received it, so I know it might seem crazy to still think about it on occasion. but I really think that some force out there in the universe made that happen. i really do. it sounds so cheesy but it’s true. and I’m so thankful to that person, whoever they are.

all this to say that being kind and checking in on your friends is important. I’m in a better place now, but that message really changed my perspective on the type of good you can do with a little kindness and some care if you have it to give. and I’m thinking about all those little acts of kindness tonight. you can really do a lot of good for others just with a little bit of care. i really believe it.

[ivyglow]

psa + deactiv for a bit

I had some time to read what some people were saying out there and it really saddens me how many “I’m lgbtqia+ and I don’t see anything wrong with the tweets” or “at his age I used to say the same things”, this shows us two things 1) some of you were/are really privileged for not understanding that this is systemic violence, therefore, the person who said the slur doesn’t need to mean it in a bad way because it’s a slur no matter the context and 2) some of you think that just because something happened in the past you don’t need to apologize or recognize your mistakes, which is awful, I’m sorry. 

Being a black girl and having a white mother taught me a lot about acknowledgment, just a couple years ago I started calling my mom out in some of her actions and she made me a lot of questions, we discussed a series of topics and her view on racism has been amplified, just a couple months ago she came to me and she apologized for something she did when I was a five years old kid, she said she was sorry if she ever made me feel bad about my skin, or my nose or anything regarding my blackness, she apologize for things she realizes were wrong to my sister too (and my sister is white, so this isn’t only about the “woke” subject as some people try to make it seem). I’ve never asked my mom to apologize, she also never asked me to forgive her, but I’m sure if she was a public person and something came out about her hurting someone (intently or not) she would apologize, because this is how we grow and this is how we acknowledge our mistakes. We understand that we’re inserted into a bigger space and this space influences how we react to some things, but when we have the opportunity to do better: we do better. 

Systemic violence such as racism and homophobia don’t necessarily need the other part to mean harm, because again: it's systemic. Slurs were wrong back then and they still wrong nowadays. It doesn’t mean that because you used it back then you’re a homophobe now, but it means that you hurt someone at the time and how you react and respond to this situation now says something about who you are in the present. I’m so so sad with people saying they used to say it therefore it's not a problem or that he was a kid. Yes, it was something “common” to SOME of you at the time, but it doesn’t mean it was right and if any of you ever get the opportunity to apologize to someone that was around you at the time: please, do. Yes, nols was a teenager at the time, but as a white, rich boy he gets to have the “space to grow” and make mistakes that bipoc and some lgbtqia+ never had. My brother has the same age as Nolan, and he wasn’t excused for his mistakes -no matter how small they were- because he was a black kid.

When I say publicly talking and apologizing, addressing the issue, I mean it so people can see that no matter if for some it seemed ok back then, it wasn’t. Some of you didn’t felt personally attacked by the slurs, which is fine but to say that it wasn’t harmful reduces the feeling of a whole group to your own feelings, it makes exactly what those acts of violence do: it treats us as homogenous. 

I’m completely fine with people supporting him, I really am, it wasn’t my intention to make everyone angry with my first post, I was addressing an issue that was brought to me in my ask box, saying how hockey culture is not something that starts on the nhl or isn’t influenced by the majority there (white, rich, cis, etc). Whoever took the time to read the whole thing saw that I said everything people are repeating there: he was a teenager, probably space, where he grew up, didn’t really introduce him on social issues, people probably never called him out on that at the time and so on, but this doesn’t change the fact that slurs aren’t ok. It strikes me as some of you still live in a fairytale where we get to have bad guys and good guys, but we're human beings and we need to start understanding that someone can do something bad in the past without necessarily being a bad person (that goes from problem to problem, of course). You say you want to change hockey culture and that you want to do better but when a bipoc/lgbtqia+ points an issue and wants to debate it y’all are quick to choose the one who has the same view as you and use it (@someone is gay and didn’t felt affected by it, therefore, it isn’t a big deal!!!), and it's just curious, honestly.

You also feel as if you have the right to come to my inbox and say hateful stuff, question my views and point a finger at me. I’m not perfect nor I expect any player to be, I’m well aware they are mostly white rich men, and the environment they grew up in is completely different from what we would expect as the ideal, but it doesn’t mean that we’re gonna simply ignore issues. That being said I’m not answering about this topic anymore, its tiring and stressful especially when people already have everything out there, and what I keep doing is basically repeating myself in different ways just so yall get your message. I’m not here to educate, this is supposed to be a safe space for me, yet I do talk about these topics because I know we need it more around here. The fact that some of you choose to block me (when we never really talked!!!), point me as a problematic blog, or diminish the topic, shows a lot about hockey culture (that is very present between the fans, not only in the league).

When you start to realize that part of the discomfort we feel while dealing with these issues is the key to changing the situation we’re gonna start going somewhere, while you keep diminishing it and trying to make excuses we’ll be stuck.

I recommend you to read mia’s rant about it here. Also, take some time to read about the nwhl situation here.

I’m leaving for a while, maybe a day or two or maybe a week, I’m not sure, I just need some time to get my energy back, I deal with this shit every day irl, I shouldn’t have to feel bad in here. I’m really thankful for all the supportive people and I’m really sorry for the hateful anons or the people who felt like I was attacking them or their fave, that wasn’t my intention (especially because nols was my fav too, but I personally felt kinda off, maybe in a different time I wouldn’t feel off and that's ok too). Anyway, I hope I see y’all soon in a better vibe than that (those last lb’s were really good for me btw! you guys are amazing) and if you miss me that much (jk) you can ask for my discord acc to my tito ( @barbienoturbby ). love yall <3 mel 

I’m turning my anons back because of all the named anons I had and I know some of them don’t have a tumblr acc but please: don’t send in shitty things/hate, just go live your life the way you want and leave me in peace. 

sorry for the long rant, I just felt like clarifying things because besides the asks there are people blocking me and unf me like crazy which is ?????

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

What do you think of JM’s updated Spotify? I don’t normally read into things, but his song choices makes me sad. “At my worst” “I can’t be myself (excuse me while I cry) & “When was it over?” With the lyrics “was it that fight we didn’t have when I came in? Was it the first time you saw me drunk? Second time I said I’m sorry?” It sounds like a replay of Vmins dumpling incident and it worries me. JM looked off in the recent live, almost sad and pouty lately. Do you think I’m over analyzing it?

Admin 1: The short answer to this would be: yes, you are over analyzing things.

The longer one would be that, for example, Pink Sweat$'s At My Worst isn't a sad song, it's actually the exact opposite. It's a very cute and romantic song. Just look at the first verse:

Can I call you baby? Can you be my friend? Can you be my lover up until the very end? Let me show you love, oh, no pretend Stick by my side even when the world is caving in, yeah

I'd actually argue this kinda sounds like a mixture between Sweet Night and Friends when it comes to the sentiment of those words. I’ve seen some people even claim that this will replace Ed Sheeran’s romantic songs that have so far been used at every wedding ever because of how sweet it is.

Then we have Justin Bieber’s I can’t be myself which I believe you probably only looked at the title and jumped to conclusions because, again, this isn’t a sad song either. The lyrics are more about how Justin (or whoever) cannot be himself when you (I’d guess he likely means his wife) isn’t by his side, thus wanting to say that he is happiest and most himself when they are together. It’s sweet and lovely, not sad.

I could travel any place But without you, it's just runnin' around (Girl, I'm just runnin' around) They could open Heaven's gates But without you, I'm just stuck in the clouds (Yeah, yeah)

Lastly, from the songs you specifically highlighted, is Sasha Sloan’s when was it over? which yes, I’ll admit this one is a sad song about not being able to let go even though you know there is nothing left. The song though has a very calm sound, something you’d listen to in the evening, and something I could see both him and Tae like listening to, not because Jimin relates to the lyrics but because it’s simply a pretty song.

On my current playlist I have Stromae’s Formidable, a song about a heartbroken man getting wasted after a breakup. I’ve neither gotten my heart broken nor am I sad and yet I still love this song because it’s just a really good song. Sometimes that’s the only reason we need to listen to a song. Nothing more to it.

All that to say that I don’t believe there is any correlation whatsoever to be made here, especially since Tae and Jimin look more than happy in recent months (did you notice Jimin happily smiling at Tae during their most recent performance of Butter for Colbert at the beginning of their subunit dance?) and there is nothing that could indicate to us that something went wrong between them, or that Jimin could be sad or something bad going on with him. I mean, look at JKs playlist and the fact that he has Billie Eilish’s Your Power on it, applying your thought process, does that mean that JK is trying to tell us he went through something similar to Billie? That he is sad? Or do you think he simply recommended that song because he likes Billie’s music? The last one seems the most likely, doesn’t it?

So, to sum it all up, there is absolutely no need to worry, seriously.

Admin 2: In the evenings, when it's very quiet and my big city has fallen asleep, I really enjoy listening to Sweet Night. I also like to go back to 4 O'Clock from time to time (although I know I will cry). Does that mean I missed my chance in life to be with my beloved? No and no again! I've never been in a situation like this, I wasn't unhappy or "fragily" in love, no one abandoned me or cheated on me. I listen to these songs because I love them. They match the mood of the evening and calm me down despite the sad lyrics and let me fall asleep peacefully.

I am a person who listens to a lot of songs from the past; Songs that remind me of situations, remind me of years of studying, enable me to relive certain situations.

Dear Anon, thank you very much for your question (confession), but I admit that I see it as "looking for some kind of backdoor" so to speak, a way to create a loophole and deny everything after all.

I don't know who you are, I don't know if you really are a Vminnie, but I think you are clinging to any possibility of a situation to undermine the reality or existence of Vmin. That's how I see it, if I offend you, I apologize. The more we get new materials about Tae and Jimin every day, like them being cute in the McDonald's behind the scenes, the more such "sad thoughts" we get sent to us through asks every day.

Firstly, I'm not sure if Jimin (and Taehyung) is fluent enough in English to capture the accuracy of the lyrics and understand its message. Of course, you can translate it, but for that to happen first the song has to catch your attention, and usually it's the melody and the overall feeling of a song that does it, and not the lyrics. And that is the point!

I think Jimin picked these tracks because he simply likes them. Perhaps he first paid attention to the melodies and the mood and only then understood the lyrics sometime later.

A lot of people (including me) hear some kind of song instead of another because they are intrigued by the melody or the association with a particular situation. The mood that fits the moment, the weather, the time of day or many other things which lead us to choose this song and not another.

Maybe Jimin and Taehyung were driving at night and listening to the song on the radio, maybe they were in a romantic mood back then, just having dinner together or taking a half bath together. Ha ha, I know I am deceiving and romanticizing what I am saying to reflect the vast possibilities and reasons why you listen to music like this and no other. Jimin putting together this list of songs for his spotify playlist doesn't mean he listens to it all the time, every day, but that he has the songs he likes on his list and chose the ones he wants to hear right now, or that he thought ARMY could like.

Of course, I'm sure he listens to very different songs during exercising than the one lying in bed before falling asleep. Maybe he's listening to this list, just like we hear the songs from BTS? We know individual words after repeating them several times, and we generally know (as we decide to read translations) what is going on in a particular song, but we don't understand all the words accurately. Not all of us are in the same situation as described in a particular song, but still we listen to it because we like it, because BTS sings it, because we are waiting for a solo from Suga etc. etc. etc.

For some time now we have been seeing (I see) Vmin happy, even very happy, as if "after the night the day came and after the storm came peace" (by the way, these are the words of one of my favorite songs), I have the impression that Vmin have finished fighting all their fights and they are just happy now, finally. Taehyung looks like a million dollars, he's literally glowing and far more lively than he was a year ago.

To him, Jimin is like smooch like butter and someone he likes the most. Taehyung is a handsome and hot chingu for Jimin who he also likes him the most as well. Tell me dear Anon, where is there room for fear and doubt in the love they share? Why and on what basis do you suspect that Vmin has broken up, or is having problems, or that either of them is unhappy? Besides, if one of them has an off day or is simply tired after a packet schedule and thus doesn't look as animated, why is that immediately read as "Jimin and Tae aren't together anymore" or "they are drifting apart" when chances are far more likely that it has nothing to do with their bond? Based on the playlist, or based on Vlive, or maybe based on both of these events, what is the correlation?

I've seen the Vlive. To tell the truth, I didn't see a sad and pouty Jimin there. Instead, I saw Taehyung smiling and content, and Jimin smiled and admired Tae's new hairstyle. I watched the latest BTS interviews. Vmin stared at each other, Jimin stared at Tae with a big smile that only grew in size and the two communicated with their eyes.

Jimin caressed Taehyung's back/butt in the Butter MV making Episode and said there’s butter here (though it wasn’t translated in the subs).

In the McD ad they were together and standing next to each other, even with Jimin resting his head on Tae's shoulder and then Jimin eating Tae's chicken nugget from his hand.

Honestly, I don't know what else Vmin would have to do to keep people from doubting their bond and happiness. They have shown us so much, I think they have reached the limit of what can be said without saying it bluntly.

Most importantly, this is a very interesting situation as we have never had as much "dubious news/content" (not meant negatively at all) as we have now after Taehyung's interview with his ‘confession’/clarification about Sweet Night. To me it smells a bit like someone wants to cause fear or plant the seed of doubt, or be like a trojan horse with the underlying idea of course being that "well...we must be wrong" even though there’s no reason for us to believe/think that.

[lisinfleur]

MOTHERFUCKER

The request:

Author’s Notes | When I first wrote "Hey Daddy" for you, I remember I did the best I could to create the sweetest environment and the cutest scenes with Hvitserk and the child of that fiction, trying as much as I could to avoid the Reader showing any kind of love involvement with Hvitserk exactly because I wanted that to be a paternal/parental fiction as you asked me to. I even included a love relationship for him with Thora, a child to come, a great friendship... I wanted to portray the most familiar scene I could.

And I did it all because I remember I felt your sadness with his deployment. I felt the weight of your heart and I wanted with all my soul to soothe your pain.

Then he comes and ruins it. Then he comes and steps over it.

I feel like someone who cared so much for a flower just to see a bastard running over it with a car. And this fiction is the reflection of what I wanted to do with your bastard of a husband for what he did to my precious flower.

However, even crushed, it is still my flower. Even hurt, it is still my flower. And I know it's strong enough to grow back. I know you are strong enough to surpass this, love. I know, with the time and the right amount of care and love, you will bloom again. I believe in you, my sweet sweetheart. And I'll be here whenever you need, for anything I can.

I love you with all my heart. And I'll be praying to the gods to make you happy and avoiding myself from praying Thor to smite him dead!

Special thanks to @honestsycrets for helping me with the editing (and having my back during a breakdown over my English skills. You’re my everything, babe!)

Universe |Vikings

Pairing | Sigurd x Reader (implicit)

Info |Viking Age AU, requested by anon

Words | 4471

⁑ Warnings: This is part two of the fiction "Hey Daddy". If you liked the environment of the last part, I strongly suggest you stop there. This fiction will ruin the beautiful picture its previous part built AS FUCK, but reality sucks sometimes. And I'm glad we have fiction as a safe space to give some motherfuckers what they deserve (without going to jail for it).

ANGST, Betrayal, Cheating Husband, cursing, tw: homophobic/offensive slang use, mentions to violence, blood, and wounds. Caution is required: the following content may be triggering!

"Hey, dada! Lovu!"

When did everything turn that way?

A few months ago, Hvitserk was in your yard, your little girl beside him, both waving at your husband on Hvitserk's cell phone. Now, the sudden distance between the two of you completely ruined his plans of seeing your children growing together.

He never thought you would break apart from him like that, but the safety about the strength of your friendship simply vanished since your husband came home. Buying a house beside yours now sounded like a silly idea...

First, it was completely acceptable in his mind: you spent a lot of time away from your husband. It was evident that the two of you would want some privacy to share the moments you didn't have. Also, your husband would wish to properly know and try to approach his little girl. It was not his place to come and teach everything about your daughter to your husband, and Hvitserk knew that.

But the distance remained... And it was starting to bother him.

When his boy came into this world, you were there, but you were strange. Even your smiles weren't the same! You were happy for him, but it was easy to see you were hiding something Hvitserk couldn't avoid noticing under your mask of a tired mother.

"I just came to visit. I'm fine, Hvitserk! Don't worry! You know: just the terrible two..."

Hvitserk didn't buy that bullshit.

After months without a single manifestation of yours, Hvitserk started thinking your husband could've fallen for the rumors spread about the two of you. So, he decided to go to your house; but not to speak to you.

"Hvitserk?"

You opened just a breach of your door, for his major surprise: you'd never left him outside of your house before.

"Y/N? Are you ok?"

"Yes, yes I'm... I'm ok... What do you need?"

There it was... The distance. The fake smiles. You were skinnier, eyes marked by the lack of sleep. That wasn't the work of a toddler. Hvitserk could see you were hiding something, but he tried to keep the masks for you.

"Y/H/N is home?" he asked, smiling at you.

"I... I'll call him," you trembled when the voice of your daughter sounded out loud in a scream of visible annoyance.

It didn't take too long for your husband to come, seeming to be as annoyed as the little girl clearly screaming "OUT" out loud inside the door he closed behind his back, giggling at Hvitserk.

"Hey bro... Children, uh? Get yourself prepared, my man! You're gonna have some troubles at the two."

Hvitserk smiled, shaking his hand, but he didn't let pass that your husband was way better than you.

Way better...

"I was thinking about calling you for a beer, bro. So we could..."

Your husband didn't even let him finish.

"Right now. Fucking please!"

"Won't you warn Y/N?" Hvitserk asked as your husband just checked if his wallet was in his pocket before starting to walk away from the house.

"Pff... Let's go. She'll make good use of some time away from me."

Yeah. Something was terribly wrong. Hvitserk could see it screaming in every detail.

He followed your husband to the bar where they paid two beers for themselves. Hvitserk watched as your husband swallowed his beer like water, asking for another cup to the waitress with a satisfied smile.

"Fuck, bro... I was needing this. War is hella easier than being home with a two years old, uh?"

What-the-fuck-was-that? Hvitserk could barely answer with more than a speechless giggle.

"She used to love you, dada..." he said, remembering your husband of the videos they used to do for him. "What has changed?"

"Every-fucking-thing," your husband answered, tired. "Well, Y/N has her part in this too. I miss those videos, man... I wish we didn't end like this."

End like this?

"Like what?" Hvitserk asked, sipping from his cup.

Trying to understand what was happening.

"Oh, brother, you have no idea of the fucking tsunami that washed that house. Damn, bro... Keep yourself home as much as you can and don't you DARE to think about doing anything for yourself in a whole year out of anything familiar to you, dude, or they come from princesses to bitches in a second! I mean..." your husband started, catching Hvitserk's attention for the fact that he was talking about you.

You.

The sweetest woman in this world!

Your husband was speaking about you like that...

Hvitserk was starting to feel unsettled as your husband continued speaking like a radio forgotten on.

"Ok, we are married, I get it. She waited for me, I get it too, fine, ok. She's a woman, man. With a child to keep her mind occupied. I was a god's damn soldier, bro! In the fucking middle of nowhere! For a whole year, Hvitserk... Fuck, man, we have our needs!"

Hvitserk's fingers got tighter on his cup. The more he was hearing, the more he could understand what happened to you. However, he chose to keep himself silent. His mind was floating in memories from the day when Sigurd tried to make you feel better about your husband's absence. His little brother offered you an innocent hug, and you utterly refused it, almost shoving Sigurd away. It could be an innocent hug in his little brother's eyes, but you knew Sigurd had feelings for you. You didn't want to end up feeding false hopes into his heart. You kept yourself faithful to your marriage vows until the end.

"I found somebody to fuck. What's the matter? I wanted to release my balls, nothing too big. The problem is that I got the bitch knocked and now Y/N is freaking out!" he sighed as if he was the biggest victim of that whole situation.

"Hnn..." Hvitserk hummed just to get him speaking.

One of his hands on his phone texting Sigurd.

"Go to Y/N's house, tell her to pack her things, and take her out of that place. Tell her I sent you there. Call Ivar, tell him to help her with the divorce papers. Y/H/N has been cheating on her and I'm about to smack a bitch, brother..."

Your husband was still talking when Hvitserk started slowly drinking his beer. He wouldn't waste good beer... But in his mind, Sigurd had until that beer was over in his cup to get you out of that place before he could fuck your husband's life.

In the meantime,  Sigurd didn't even argue. After that message came, he took his phone and called Ivar immediately.

"What the fuck do you..."

"Call our lawyers, Ivar. And tell them to prepare Y/N's divorce. Hvitserk just told me Y/H/N has been cheating on her and I'm taking her out of that house now."

"He's been what?"

Ivar's voice was never that loud. Sigurd didn't even have to keep holding his phone to hear his little brother's exclamation as he was turning on his car.

"You've heard me, Y/N's is..."

It was Ivar's time to cut him with an answer.

"Moving. And divorced. I'll call you back later."

"Fine," Sigurd answered, driving towards your house.

His knocks on your door mixing with the sound of your daughter crying once again.

"Just a second!" you asked.

But the door was opened minutes later, visibly after you cleaned your face from the tears you thought you could hide from whoever was your visitor.

"Sigurd?"

Hvitserk's brother at your door confused you at the same time it threw your mind into memories.

You should've accepted him. You should've left your husband months ago... Sigurd was such a sweet man! You were sure he would never do such a thing as your husband did. But you just smiled, trying to keep up your fading mask.

"What's happening? How can I..."

"I know everything," he said, directly.

Shattering your disguise in a million pieces with his blues so deep inside your eyes.

"I know what he's done to you, I know you're suffering... Hvitserk sent me here to take you and your daughter away from his reach."

You didn't want to keep playing your husband's game. You were traumatized, scared, sad, hurt, angry... You didn't want your marriage to end like that!

But was it your fault?

How long could you handle your daughter's cries begging you to send him away?

She hated him after learning he had another child. She hated the idea of him having someone else when she knew the two of you were waiting for him. She was little, but she understood what her father had done. Even a toddler knew it was wrong!

It broke your heart when Sigurd extended his hand towards you.

"Please, Y/N... Let us help you."

Along with your heart, the dam in your eyes broke down, releasing the cry of despair and disappointment you were never able to put out. Not with your husband forcing you into that play-house game you couldn't handle any longer.

"Take me outta here... Please, Sigurd, take me anywhere... I can't handle this anymore. I can't!" you crumbled, feeling Sigurd's hands embracing you when you finally opened your door for someone else that wasn't your husband.

Upon your shoulders, Sigurd could see how messy your life was: your house was a jumble of beer cans, male shoes, childish toys everywhere... Your sink was full - something he knew you utterly hated! Your daughter was sitting alone in the living room, still sobbing while watching the cartoons you always said you would never use for moments of peace to yourself.

Your dream was shattered inside that house, and you were living a nightmare.

"Make it stop... Please make it stop..." You begged, feeling Sigurd’s embrace becoming slightly tighter.

"It's over now, love. We'll take you out of this place with your child. Ivar will help you to get rid of his name and we'll set you free."

Not a single mention to his long-time wish to take your husband's place inside your heart. Not a single sign of the feelings you knew Sigurd had silenced into his heart when you chose Y/H/N.

Your heart clenched inside your chest.

"I should've married you," you mumbled, lifting your eyes to feel Sigurd's thumb caressing your face.

"You followed your heart. You did the right thing. He's wrong, Y/N. Don't blame yourself, babe. First, we save you and your child from this nightmare. Then... Then we see. Uh?" he said, tender.

You knew he was respecting your moment. Sigurd knew it wasn't time for his feelings now. He was a good man.

And he was right.

"I'll pack my things," you said.

Sigurd nodded in agreement.

"Don't mind the extra. Take your little doll's toys and clothes, your clothes, and documents. We'll help you with everything, sweetheart." he granted.

Waking your daughter to his presence when his voice echoed louder than the cartoon.

"Uncle Sigs!" she yelled, running to throw herself into his arms.

Sigurd winked at you, silently saying he would distract her so you would have time to pack everything.

You packed what was needed and Sigurd took you and your daughter "for a ride," you said - avoiding scaring the little girl. She was super excited when the two of you left home, but within the trip in his car, she fell asleep in your arms and you allowed yourself to cry silently, lulling your child.

"Don't worry," Sigurd's firm voice said when he stopped the car near the building where you knew he, Ivar, and Ubbe had some apartments. "Everything will be fine."

You nodded, allowing yourself to find some hope in his eyes.

"She's out."

It was everything Hvitserk needed to read on his cell phone for his smile to disappear from his face.

"Got yourself a troubled witch too, brother?"

Your husband was high already. Hvitserk didn't smile at his stupid jokes anymore. He just got up, drinking the rest of his beer and throwing money on the table enough to pay for the whole bill.

"Enjoy it, Y/H/N. That's the last fucking time I'm paying your ass anything."

"What? Whoa... Where the hell did it come from, brother? What..." your husband said, surprised.

Hvitserk's eyes landed on his figure with the weight of years of friendship betrayed by your husband's actions. Y/H/N didn't have cheated on you only. He'd broken Hvitserk's trust and the brotherhood he'd shared with you and your husband for years, and Hvitserk couldn't forget him for doing this.

"Don't call me brother, you motherfucker!" he said, splatting his hands on the table before pointing at your husband with his index. "Men don't have needs, Y/H/N. True men have the responsibility to deal with their dick's dryness and keep themselves faithful to the women they leave home waiting for them! You have two fucking working hands, asshole! There were plenty of things you could have done instead of cheating on the woman I saw waiting for you to come home since you were sent away, cradling your child while crying your absence! I was fucking there, you scoundrel! I saw every battle Y/N had to fight alone! I helped her! I filmed and photographed your daughter, and helped your wife to pay her fucking bills, so she could have an internet connection for you not to be alone! For you not to be away from them! And while I was watching Y/N's struggles with your daughter's sleepless nights, you were there, fucking another, making a second child while I was trying to convince your little girl her father didn't abandon her on purpose!"

Hvitserk was furious! His tone started attracting other angry faces towards your husband. The clearer it was for the people around what was that arguing about, the more ashamed your husband was with all the judgemental eyes on him.

"Fuck, man, stop yelling..." he tried.

His words just made Hvitserk louder...

"Why? Don't you like to boast around your conquers, brother?" he mocked the word for years used to put your husband in a position he clearly wasn't occupying in Hvitserk's life anymore. "Let's boast around about the bastard you are, Y/H/N! Boast around the pussy you fucked, the woman you got knocked out of your marriage while your wife was fucking crying her eyes out because you lost your child's birth! Were you there for the second one, or was it another child you left behind without even looking back, uh? You're a motherfucking asshole! And I'm ashamed of being your friend for so long! I should've kicked your balls and punched your face the first time you got close to our circle to court Y/N!"

"So what?" Your husband finally got up, reacting to Hvitserk's offensive. "So your brother could fuck her in my place, Hvitserk?"

Y/H/N's military posture wasn't enough to prevent Hvitserk from towering upon him with fierce green eyes swallowing your husband's in anger.

"Yes, Y/H/N. So my brother could've loved her, married her, and gave her what she deserves instead of the crumbs you left behind to the woman you lost."

"Well, guess what? Little Sigurd can fuck his hands, cause my wife is mine and I won't give up on her just because of one or two fights!" Y/H/N spat back, arrogant.

Hvitserk just straightened his clothes, sighing and looking back at him with contempt in his eyes.

"Y/N is not an object for you to possess! She's a free woman, and we'll grant her freedom! She's no longer in your house, she won't go back, and I won't tell you where she is now. You'll be receiving the divorce papers soon, and I suggest you sign them peacefully, my man. At this moment, my brother Ivar is reuniting everything necessary to ruin your career, and we'll put everything on your superior's table if you dare to cause Y/N any more problems! With my father's lawyer's best recommendations to kick you out for good! I can ruin your life, Y/H/N, and I will if I see you close to Y/N ever again!"

The floor disappeared under your husband's feet, and he punched the table furiously. The waitress picked up the phone to call the police, but Hvitserk lifted his hand to stop her, calm.

"Don't worry, we're leaving now. And this distinct motherfucker will remember how to behave like a gentleman and leave with me. After all, he doesn't want to get me truly angry. He never saw me truly angry.”

A warning implicit in Hvitserk's words: it was only the beginning of his possibilities to ruin your husband's life.

"Fuck it! You are all insane! She's fucking overreacting, and you're falling for this shit as if you didn't have your head sunk in the middle of dozens of legs around, you asshole! I know you, Hvitserk Ragnarsson! You're a womanizer! You always were! You know exactly how much it hurts to stay without it for too long, and I hope you have the same shitty time away from your pretty wife for you to know what I'm talking about!"

"You said it wrong, Y/H/N. I was like this. I really had my head in the middle of several legs. You're right! But I'm a married man now, and I chose to honor the wife I chose and the children she's bearing for me!That's the difference between us: I can handle one whole year with my dick dry cause I love the woman I have by my side! I'm not an irrational animal that will fuck whatever moves in front of me just because. Grow the fuck up, dude! Stop shaming yourself!"

Your soon-to-be-ex couldn't handle anymore. Hvitserk's contempt was too much for him, and he got up, throwing his hands to catch Hvitserk's collar with a violent pull that stumbled him closer. The people around squealed or took some distance in fear, and the waitress shrunk behind one of the tables wanting to call the police again.

"You listen to me closely, you little son of a bitch! I don't fucking care about what you think or what the fuck did you drink, smell, or have been injecting yourself with, but if you think you'll take my wife away from me, you are completely..."

Your husband's voice was cut by a growl of pain when Hvitserk kicked his balls as strong as he could, straightening his clothes one more time and lifting his sleeves as your husband was nursing his pained jewels. Then, a second strike came: a right hook from under your husband's chin, throwing him flat to the ground, dizzy and shrinking himself in pain; his tongue bleeding after being bitten when his teeth were violently hit against each other.

"Still wanting to play the macho-man around, brother? Uh? Get the fuck up and put yourself together! Know your crime, pay your price, you asshole! And one more thing," Hvitserk said, pulling your husband up by his collar and forcing him to stand. "Touch me again, and I'll get your life crushed! Approach Y/N once again, and I'll get your life crushed! Do anything I dislike, and I'll get your fucking life crushed! Did you listen to me well, Y/H/N??"

Hvitserk pushed Y/H/N back, releasing his collar. And your husband spat some blood on the ground, looking at Hvitserk with rage in his eyes but silent. He knew there was nothing he could do against the power of Hvitserk's family. You were lost for him, but he didn't want to give up so easily.

"That little girl is my daughter! You faggot of a brother can do whatever he wants: she'll always be my seed, and no one will take her away from me!" he tried.

"Watch me, my friend!" Hvitserk mocked, ironic. "Now get the hell out of my face! My biggest shame in life was to promise your daughter you would be the father of her dreams! But don't worry. She won't have her father to shame her with his actions, but she'll have a bunch of good uncles disposed to make her life the dream she deserves! And to turn your life into a real nightmare if you ever try to hurt her mother again. Fuck off and disappear! Or do better... Learn from your mistakes and go play the good father to the second child you found a way to produce, you piece of shit!"

Hvitserk spat near your husband's feet, disgusted. And once again, he opened his wallet, leaving some more money over the table near the frightened waitress.

"I'm truly sorry for this pitiful show. Here, for the damage, and thank you for your service," he said, leaving towards his car.

Leaving your husband behind, yelling at everyone as if the crowd didn't have a bunch of good reasons to look at him with disgust on their faces.

"What? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? FUCK OFF!"

Hvitserk just ignored the yelling, driving away. He was ready to really ruin your husband's career and his life if it was necessary, but now it was time to take care of what was really important.

When you arrived at the apartment, Thora was there with Hvitserk's boy, waiting for you. The little one was sleeping inside a basket so was your daughter in your arms. Sigurd entered, carrying your bags, and Thora received you with her doughy and pleasant voice, filling your heart with relief.

"Oh, thank the gods, you're here! I thought it would be harder. Are you ok, Y/N? How is this poor sweet princess?" she mumbled, caressing your daughter's back.

"She's fine, I... I'm still shocked," you answered.

"Come with me, I prepared the room for you to put your little girl to sleep. Then we can talk, love."

She was always so sweet! You couldn't thank more for the fact that she and Hvitserk crossed each other’s paths. He always deserved exactly what Thora was, and you were happy they were together.

If only your marriage was like theirs as you imagined it would be...

When your daughter was sleeping comfortably in the room, Thora took you back to the living room, and you noticed your bags weren't there anymore.

"I took everything to your room. It is right beside hers, so you don't have to worry. You can set everything tomorrow, sweetheart."

Sigurd was smiling at you, and it was so comfortable, so familiar. You smiled back at him: your first smile since your husband came back home.

But you weren't whole. Your eyes filled with tears as Thora was speaking, and she was the first one to notice it.

"I made you some food. I thought you could be hungry and... Oh, love! Don't cry!" she said, embracing you when you broke into heavy sobs once again.

"What have I done wrong?" you asked, feeling Thora's arms around you as she conducted you to the couch.

Sigurd brought you a cup of fresh water and held your free hand as you drank it slowly, trying to calm your sobs.

"You did nothing, Y/N," Sigurd answered. "You were the perfect wife, the perfect mother, and any man would be lucky to be the chosen one of your heart. Y/H/N was lucky! But he didn't know how to give you the proper value. Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault." he said.

"What will I tell my daughter now?" you mumbled the question that was tearing your heart apart.

How could you explain that whole situation to your child without breaking her image of what love should be?

"Tell her the truth," Thora said, caressing your hair slowly. "Gently tell her that life changes, and nothing lasts forever. But also tell her that you can rebuild your life, even when everything is crumbling, love. Tell her that you can be strong by yourself. Show her that you can do it, and she will grow to be an independent woman, strong and self-aware as you are. And if something like this ever happens to her, then she will know she can kick the asshole's ass and move on with her life without fear. She'll know she's enough to herself and needs no one else to build herself a good life."

Her words sounded full of hope to you, soothing the pain in your heart and the doubts of your mind.

"People may be bad sometimes. They commit mistakes and break other's trust sometimes. Your experience will serve to show her she must be prepared to have her trust broken once in a while, but she can surpass it like her mother is doing," Sigurd completed.

Your lips rehearsed a small smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled right before the door opened behind you.

Hvitserk getting in, a little misaligned.

"You're welcome," he smiled.

You got up quickly, throwing yourself into his arms, embracing your friend as tight as you remembered loving so bad and missing so hard.

"I missed you so much!" you said, feeling his arms around you tight.

"Don't you ever leave me out of your life again, sister!" he said. "You're my best friend, Y/N. I'll always be there for you."

Inside his arms, you felt the last drop of fear melting in your heart.

You were safe, and they would help you to rebuild your life.

That man you once thought was the love of your life could go and lick his wounds wherever he wanted! You would start over without him and make everything better for you, your daughter, and that beautiful family your friends were for you.

My dear LMAnon,

I'm not Hvitserk, nor Ivar, nor Sigurd, nor Thora...

I have no money or resources to move you from the situation you are in, nor the strong fists I wish I had to punch your bastard of a husband as much as I think he deserves.

But I have faith.

I have faith the gods will open the doors for you to leave this awful situation.

I have faith you'll find the help you need.

I have faith you'll find your strength, your identity, your self-confidence, and rebuild everything he broke with your trust and the dream you had for the two of you.

I have faith in you.

Call me whenever you need to talk. And if there is something I can do for you, anything, tell me.

Until there, I'll be here praying to the gods to fill you with strength so you can surpass this awful moment in your life and build yourself a path you will, one day, look back to be proud of.

There is no good that never ends, nor evil that lasts forever.

This will pass. And one day, he'll be nothing but a bad memory you'll see long gone in your life.

All the love and my best wishes!

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[j-reau]

a hiatus or something

I didn’t want to post this. I told myself to give it until morning and sleep but I’ve been laying here for over an hour and I can’t sleep and I know I’m not going to sleep until I get it out. And I decided I’m not going to do the pretend things don’t bother us mentality that tumblr likes, the don’t show emotions on the dashboard, don’t let people know you’re hurt or angry out of fear it’ll be seen as ~drama or whatever thing stop me from just saying how I feel. Because I feel pretty shitty? I’ve been feeling shitty for a few days now. Maybe more. Last week I told myself that the drama that had randomly cropped up was just too much and I wasn’t going to let tumblr be something that made me cry or panic or kept me up at night over bullshit like arguing with someone over things that happened years ago. So I set my focus on my friends, on my dashboard, on reminding myself why I love RP and why I’ve been in it for this many years, for so long, with all of these people. Those Valentines I posted were part of that project for me. It was a reminder, for myself and my dash about all of the human connection that happens here, all the people we meet, all the little pieces of each other we take on and take with us, all the ships, all the conversations, however brief.  From the people we just see on our dash to the ones we talk to about all our fears and insecurities. And how all of it matters. 

I know how much we all love to say calm down gregg, it’s tumblr RP. I know how we all loathe this hellsite when we’re being our worst. I know how we all talk about how we’re too old for this now or we’re tired. We’re just here to write. I’m just here to write. I love writing. But what brings us all back time and time again, what keeps us here is the fact that it’s not just tumblr RP. It’s a community. Whether you have a real life that keeps you busy or your whole life is here, whether you have plenty of friends offline or all your closes people live on discord, we’re all people. And we all take this with us. We make friendships and we talk to each other. We open ourselves up to the constant trust and fear of interaction, of  plotting, of who is going to reach out or send the meme. We build friendships based on that, we care for each other, we see each other’s bad days on the dash, and great days and inspiration. And it means something. It may just be tumblr RP, but it matters to us. Because of the people here, because we give a fuck about each other. Or at least I’ve always liked to hope we do. I have friends on this website I’ve had for ten years, some just for 3, and others just a few months. It always floors me how we can always come back to it, how we stick with each other or don’t, how we see the good and the bad and the ugly. 

So to get on with it, I wrote those Valentines.  I hit refresh on my blog and put the weird random drama in the past and moved forward. I made this blog for JJ only about 3 months ago. I don’t know how I got 500 followers in that short time but I did. And it’s. been the wildest experience I can possibly explain, having that happen so quickly, finding so many people out in the RPC that I hadn’t before on my other blogs. I felt fucking good. I was excited. Not just to write a character I had wanted to and loved for years but to find so many people who I vibed with. I remember writing a post about a month in and being so fucking ... floored. By how much I loved you all, by how amazing it was to be received like that still, to find people my age and who wrote things I liked and loved their female characters. I fucking love JJ. I LOVE THE SHIT out of my partners on this blog, even the new people I’m still itching to write with. And yet, I did that little refresh, posted my valentines , got ready to go and felt .... sad. 

I tried to explain it. I tried to tell myself it was a bad mood. I hoped maybe it was medication. But I couldn’t shake the weird funk. And everywhere I looked it seemed like things were .... not good. My friends taking breaks, people feeling sad too, relationships splitting, people I liked and respected separating themselves. Tonight, one of my closest friends I’ve made on this blog blocked me. Someone I adored and trusted and absolutely loved to write with. Tumblr says we’re not supposed to care. That we’re supposed to let people draw their lines in the sand and take their leave and maybe we are. Maybe it’s important to let people make their choices. But I also think it’s important as fuck to talk to your friends, to mean what you say when you tell someone they’re important to you. I think it’s important that we remember on the other side of every blog and discord user is a person. Who has bad days and bad feelings and cries and feels insecure and tells themselves it’s just tumblr RP even when they know somehow it feels heavier when it’s bad. This was a friend I had talked to at length about all of those exact things, about how personal the community can feel sometimes, about feeling replaceable or invisible, even for the toughest most confident most take no shit people. I’ve always considered myself a pretty tough, confident, take no shit person. I think anyone who has known me for as many years as I’ve been around has seen that first hand. I don’t like how sad I’ve felt lately. I don’t like the insecurity that’s making me want to know why things feel way or why people vanish without so much as an explanation. I had to block a mutual last week I saw making fun of me on their twitter. A mutual. Someone who chose to follow me and on a public place where my other friends could see it made fun of what I posted. And I just don’t know what we’re doing anymore. It didn’t bother me. I don’t have hurt feelings over it. That’s the kind of stuff I definitely know I’m confident about. But .... it did really fucking floor me. Because here we are, on a sight where users talk about positivity and not sending anon hate, and we can treat each other like that. 

I’ve been sitting up in bed for hours trying to figure out what to say or what to do. That’s what I do I guess. I try to figure out what to do, how we fix it, like somehow there’s some unified we and some responsibility to make things better. A lot of you have only known me for a few months so this probably sounds all kinds of nuts. And you’re probably going JJ you’ve been an emotional mess since the moment we met you. Because I feel like that’s how it’s been for the last few months. But that’s not how it’s always been for me. That’s not who I am. So for now I guess I’m just trying to figure out what I do. Instead of sitting here and spinning and trying to figure out how we as a community fix these gaping holes and the way we talk about each other like we’re disposable and treat each other like names on a list instead of people. 

For now, I think what I do is take a little break. It’s the very thing I don’t want to do. Because it feels like quitting and it feels like being scared away. So I feel the need to promise whoever has read all of this and myself that that’s not what it is. Maybe I’ll be back in two days, maybe two weeks, who knows. But I need a break. From whatever this feeling is that seems to have come over things lately. I’ve loved these few months on this blog so much. And maybe that’s half the problem. Maybe I got spoiled and this is the come down. Maybe I’m just an idiot who thinks what we all want on this website is to find people and love each other and write together. I never knew that me -- the person often accused of being aloof and feelingsless and distant would somehow turn into the emotional bitch on this website but here we are I guess. I just don’t know how to navigate this anymore. I don’t know how to put my heart into relationships and friendships that can just be switched off like we can just stop caring about people. I don’t know how to ignore people who say horrible things and do horrible things to each other just because we don’t want to see it on our dashes. I don't know how to give enough of everything to everyone so that every single one of my mutuals and partners knows they’re valuable to me. I don’t know what I hope to accomplish. I don’t know when I got to be so much of a raw, frayed edge on tumblr dot com but that’s how I feel. And I hope in a few days or sometime soon I’ll have an answer or at least get my hard shell back.

I want to keep writing. I want to keep talking to you guys. I don’t want to lose anyone. I truly mean what I say when I say you’re all important to me. I plan to still be around on discord. I’ll write on discord if anyone wants to keep writing. If we aren’t discord friends yet and you want to be, send a message. I plan to come back. I don’t want to abandon anything. I’m so deeply fucking sorry for this rant, for all the overflow of feelings lately, for anyone that’s had to listen to them, for putting them on your dashes, for fucking all of it. Please be good to each other. Please talk to each other. Please remember that if we’ve crossed paths at any point on this blog, I value you. I value all of your friendships, your writing, your shitposts, your dash commentary, your tiktoks you dump at me on discord. I love you. Every last fucking one of you. 

[juuls]

This was a comment left on chapter 11 of my fem!Tony Stuckony time travel/soulmate fic, Hanging From a Cross of Iron, and I just wanted to put a couple things out there.

First of all, I’m not mad. We’ll make that clear. I’ve received variations of this comment before and it’s rather on the mark. But sometimes both sides can be correct in how they interpret a piece of fiction, and I wanted to show that.

So… yeah. This is something I get every so often on this fic, especially around this chapter (10-12ish) and I just… really wanted to post my reply to it, if for nothing other than explaining the way my brain works and WHY I hate Captain America: Civil War so much for ruining so many good things in fandom.

I’m not putting this out there for sympathy or agreement or to start a fight or stupid shit. It’s more like a… “I’m tired of explaining myself, let me post something I feel is a semi-eloquent response to someone who was at least mostly respectful and got some things right, who I know does represent a fair portion of people who may be interested in reading this fic,” which I could then just point/link to the next time I wake up to things making me sad in my inbox on top of me being sad and feeling guilty at not having written for a while.

Stupid covid. Stupid life being dumb and depressing and draining energy and happiness from many. Just you wait. I’ll be back soon with Codega and this fic, Cross.

But here. This is my reply to the above comment:

So I don’t normally reply to critique such as this because this IS fanfiction, but you are at least part right: it IS supposed to be unfair.

This is me working out my issues with Civil War, because boy that sure as fuck pissed me off. I love Stuckony, but after CACW it was really hard to reconcile that love anymore. So this was my way to do that, and I 100% wanted to bring in the unfairness, the distrust, the favouritism, the… meanness that I saw and felt after that.

It’s also a way for me to work through my issues at the injustices I suffered at the hands of my ex-husband—I started writing this shortly after packing my bags and leaving.

I wanted a slow, somewhat realistic, non-fairytale path to even partial redemption, shared pain and circumstances and experiences, and to show that things CAN work out as long as certain lines are not crossed. I skirt the line sometimes, definitely on purpose, but that’s for ME.

I wanted to turn the tables: Steve (and Bucky) were out of their time and comfort zone in the future—Toni, in turn, needed to be out of her time and comfort zone in the past.

Plus, can you imagine a soulmate world where you’ve had a partner and you think “this is it”? Then bam! Suddenly someone’s suddenly thrust into your life.

And I wanted to play on every single issue Toni would have experienced with her family, friends, “friends”, enemies, Obie, her company, the world, etc., post-IM2.

None of them have had an easy go of it and war is goddamn hell. They ALL have PTSD. (But also, lol, the Howlies start laying into Stucky about what you’re getting mad about here too, so I’m way ahead of you!)

From the beginning, this was as much a psychological setting as a romantic one: way more so in the beginning. But it slowly crawls its way out of the murk. I wanted a soulmate story where it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. I wanted a story where they had to fight for it… or where they had a choice, shitty as it may be (they’ll NEVER choose not to have Toni, that was never going to happen). I wanted something… realistic, even amidst super soldiers, super tech, an almost unbelievable war, and soulmates existing.

I wanted it to be a fight. I wanted rejection… then them, ALL of them, to choose each other despite that, despite their past, and despite fate.

That is my goal with this fic. And since I take my own sweet time, that’s really not readily apparent so soon in this fic, even at chapter 11.

The love will be there. The unconditional love, the equal triadic love. Not just Stucky plus Toni. Because believe me, Stucky is probably one of my least favourite ships that include some of my favourite characters. Sounds ridiculous since I write them here, but as a historian I wanted to take that, take some realism, with a dash of ridiculous and hurt and pain and anger, and see what I could do with that.

The entire reason this story exists is because of a scene idea I had that doesn’t come about until the future in the 20s chapters. Leaning on each other and trusting each other because one of them was lost. Well, technically, that happens twice.

But the point is: this is a long as fuck story towards a love they have to (and WANT to, eventually) fight tor.

This fic is for me. It’s for people like me. It’s for people who don’t want an easy love story. It’s absolutely okay that you don’t like it! There are SO many fics that I dislike for a variety of reasons, and I simply close it, mark it as Did Not Finish, and don’t return. I recognize not every fic is for me.

This one’s for me. I may have sort of stalled out where I’m at in the 20s chapters, but it’s left at a pretty good place, and I’m looking forward to this dumb pandemic so I can get back to forging this love between these three idiots, as well as pick up an old Star Wars story I left 4+ years ago due to the abuse at the hands of my ex. But I’m ready to return to it now. Well, after the world calms down a little.

It’s okay if you’re done with this story—that is 100% your choice and I will never begrudge you that. I’m glad you gave it a try though! If you’re interested, you could skip ahead and see how the dynamics have changed, or I could give you clips and examples too.

My one wish (though I understand it completely) is that you had not done this on Anon. For a few reasons:

1, I would never hold this opinion against you, especially because you got tons of it right! Go you!

2, I’d love to understand you better and discuss this with you. No recriminations whatsoever.

3, But I do wonder who of those who have read my other writings left me this message. It makes me a little sad, and I will wonder which of the people I talk to have this negative opinion of me now, but that’s also my own past issues rearing their ugly heads. You have every right to remain on Anon, though it’s not so nice when you wake from a nice dream and discover anon ‘dislike’ in your inbox on a work you slaved away on, and that the dislike is specifically about the things you wrote about deliberately, hah. Sorta funny, actually, so I’ll let that one go. xD

Thank you, though, even if I disliked reading this words: it helps me to look at my own work critically and to better understand how to frame and write things going forward.

Not every fic is for everyone, and that’s okay. I’ve encountered mine, you’ve encountered yours, but I think we’ve both learned from this interaction.

Whoever you may be, even if you divulge your handle to me, my respect for you wouldn’t diminish. It’s good to have healthy discussions and to look critically upon your own work—even if I am a sensitive bean and it hurts a little, I’m fine. :P

I think the lesson to be learned here is: fuck everything after CACW!!!! Grrrrr xD

Take care,

Juuls

P.S. I may post parts of this on my Tumblr because I do occasionally encounter similar complaints about this story, and I think maybe this is the most coherent and respectful enough comment-reply response I’ve had on this topic. Thank you.

P.P.S. Happy to talk privately too!

P.P.P.S. And the offer still stands for some lovely clips from future chapters, especially if you’re not considering continuing reading this story anymore; it’ll at least show what I’m talking about and what I’ve been working tirelessly towards. It’s hard—fucking hard—work to get past CACW and still like these characters together (my fic Paper Boats is probably one of my bigger testaments to that, oof) and I admit it’s still really really hard and I struggle with it. Covid isn’t the only reason I’ve sort of stalled out on that. But that’s more because I’m like “now what?” than not seeing any love between these three.

It’s a long journey. I knew it was going to be. But I like a challenge. :)

Take care, be well, stay safe, to you and all of yours.

And may you find many fics you love!

[pomegranates-and-blood]

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius​ (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

[positivelypositive]

I'm preparing for an exam for a long time. I mean four years ago I passed and exam and then another one an then another one... Stressing is a part of me now, it is so usual for me, I don't even realize what I feel is not normal and I need help. A couple days ago I was talking to my friend and she told me how she has been feeling and started getting phycological help and when she told me how she felt I said "I'm feeling devastated for two months and I thought it was my fault not to be productive because I wasn't trying hard enough." but no, it is not true at all. I was trying too hard so I was only tired. Maybe I could give myself a break for a couple days to relax and listen myself I could put myself together but instead, I couldn't get out of my bed and I blame myself for not doing anything and I stayed in bed for feeling worse and you know the cursed circle. Two months people, two months. What I'm saying is listen to yourself! It is not easy to see what is happening to me but every time I read messages in this blog I can understand my feelings and why I get them. So thank you for doing this! Every day you make me focus on my breath and calm my thoughts.

When I feel bad, I say to myself you are not the only one who is feeling like this right now, it is normal to have those feelings, just try to get over them. Whoever reading this, you are not alone. Be kind to yourself. Love ya

hey anon,

thank you for your brave and kind message! you are right! we definitely need to be kinder towards our own selves. we deserve it!

anybody struggling with their mental health needs to know that they are not alone. we are all with you. here to help each other and support each other through the tough times.

i hope you are able to break the cycle. i hope you can take a break and feel less guilty about it. i hope the break refreshes you enough to be able to get back to your studies. remember that being productive can happen both when you are working and when you are resting. it's just different kinds of productivity.

sending you hugs and positive vibes ✨

[fanfics4all]

Angels, Demons

Request: Yes / No  can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 please?? Anon

Requests are open, but please read this! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6009

Warnings: Spencer getting shot, reader getting shot, criminal minds stuff, ya know the drill. 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your NickName

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“So, we get Henry to bed, and, you know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with Mommy and Daddy, and… you guys know the rest.” JJ said while rolling her eyes. Spencer walked up to us along with Alex and I smiled at him. Spencer and I have been dating for a few years now and he was the love of my life. 

“Ah, trying to dust off the old cobwebs.” Morgan said with a smirk. 

“Inappropriate!” Garcia whisper-yelled and smacked him in the arm. 

“What?” He asked with a laugh. 

“Seriously, though, how long has it been?” She asked. 

“Too long.” JJ said with the most serious face I’ve seen. 

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, changing the subject. 

“Not yet.” I answered. 

“Hotch just said to drop everything and get back here.” Rossi said. 

“You need some private adult time.” Garcia said. 

“Spencer and I can watch Henry for you guys if you want.” I offered, Spencer nodded in agreement. 

“You two should go to Mexico. Or the Maldives, maybe.” Garcia said. 

“Cruz?” JJ asked looking behind us. 

“Yes! Exactly. A cruise would be perfect.” Garcia said. 

“No, no, no. Matt Cruz.” She said motioning behind us. We all looked behind and saw Cruz and Hotch walking towards the round table room. 

“Let’s get started.” Hotch said. We all got up and followed. We got int the room before them and sat down quickly. 

“How are those ribs?” Cruz asked JJ. 

“Still hurts when I laugh. You?” She asked. 

“The scars impress the ladies.” He said. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Garcia, but I took the liberty of having the much less talented version of you in my office load the case details.” He said taking the remote from Garcia. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, no problem.” She said and sat down. 

“A good friend of mine, Sheriff Peter Coleman, down in Briscoe County, Texas, reached out to me about a possible case. He’s a former Texas ranger, he’s a good guy.” Cruz said. 

“He read about our work on the Silencer case two years ago. He asked for a consult.” Hotch said. 

“What do we have?” Alex asked. 

“Abigail Jones. Prostitute. She was found in a dumpster last night.” He said. 

“What’s that on her wrists?” I asked. 

“It’s, uh… it’s…” Cruz said while having trouble with the remote. 

“Uh, would you mind?” He asked Garcia. 

“Thank you, Jesus, Buddha, and Allah.” Garcia said quickly, taking the remote from him and standing up. 

“I like to cover my bases. You have to squeeze it.” She said and the pictures zoomed in. 

“Rope burns.” Rossi said. 

“Which goes hand in hand with the lacerations on her back.” Cruz said. 

“There’s also a gunshot wound to the back of her head, execution style.” JJ said. 

“It’s a conflict in M.O. The cutting and restraints points to sexual sadism, but the gunshot wound ends the torture too quickly for a sadist.” Spencer said. 

“Is she the only victim?” I asked. 

“There;s Hannah Kelly, another prostitute, killed six months ago, dumped one jurisdiction over.” Cruz said. 

“Forensic countermeasure. Smart enough to separate the victims so we won’t tie them together.” Alex said. 

“And practical, too. The body was left in hooker row, where they pick up their johns, which brings us to our first victim, Lucas Wagner. Killed eleven months ago. Multiple arrests for soliciting a prostitute. He was found outside of a crack house where some of them lived.” Cruz said. 

“He takes a paying customer and drops them where the girls live. That sends a message that nobody’s safe.” Morgan said. 

“Tell Sheriff Coleman we’re on our way.” Hotch told Cruz and we started collecting our things. We all got our go-bags and hopped onto the jet. We all were looking through the case files. 

“Ballistics matched one gun to all three shootings. So, the same unsub killed one John and two prostitutes.” JJ said. 

“At least he keeps it in the family.” Rossi said. 

“Maybe the John was a friend of the unsub, someone he picked up prostitutes with.” Alex said. 

“Well, once he kills his friend, it makes it easier to kill the prostitutes.” Morgan said. 

“That would explain why there’s no sexual assault on the victims. It’s not about rape for this unsub, it’s about toture.” Spencer said. 

“I mean, that fits, kind of, but it just feels like we’re missing something.” I said with a sigh. 

“What we’re missing is whether this guy’s a sadist or not. A gunshot to the back of the head throws everything off.” Rossi said. 

“We’re presuming he’s using the gun to end things, but it could be part of the psychological toture.” Hotch said. 

“I’m gonna cut you, and if you flinch, bang.” Spencer said. 

“Okay, so let’s go with that for a second. There were five cuts on Lucas Wagner, nine on Hannah, twelve on Abigail. He’s escalating his torture. Sadists definitely do that.” I said. 

“And they get deeper with each victim.” Alex added. 

“That’s right. The first cuts were experimental in nature, and the latter ones were about maximum infliction of pain.” Spencer said. 

“What if this is vigilantism? He’s punishing theses woman and their Johns to clean up the streets.” Rossi suggested. 

“But then why take so long to do it? Three victims in eleven months? That’s a substantial cooling-off period.” I said. 

“Y/N, Morgan, and Reid talk to anyone working the streets last night and see if they saw something useful. Dave and Blake, go to the coroner’s office, see what you can learn there, and JJ and I will go to the station with the Sheriff and start interviewing friends and family.” Hotch ordered. When we landed we settled in and immediately got out in the field. Morgan, Spencer, and I went to the station with the rest of the team first and we had an officer come with us. 

“Not too many spots for working girls to go to, so this’ll be your best shot.” He said as we got out of the car. 

“And you turn a blind eye to what goes on in here?” Spencer asked. 

“Agent, we only got one bar around here. Monday night’s karaoke, Tuesday’s line dancing, and the girls are discreet. Can hardly tell the professionals from the locals who just want to get their drink on. Not to mention, we shut this place down, then what?” He answered. 

“The devil you know kind of thing.” Morgan said. 

“Exactly.” The officer said. We walked into the bar and just about all eyes were on us. 

“Deputy.” The woman at the bar greeted. 

“Dinah, these three are agents from the FBI. You mind answering some questions?” He asked her. 

“Don’t know much, but sure.” She answered. 

“We’re trying to find out more about a woman named Abigail Jones. Did you know her?” Spencer asked placing her photo on the bar. 

“Why ya’ll askin’ about Abby?” A man at the bar asked. 

“When was the last time you saw her?” Spencer asked. 

“Last week. Same bat time, same bat station. She’s alright, ain’t she?” He asked. 

“No, actually, she was killed a couple of nights ago…” I answered. 

“Killed? God almighty.” He said.

“How well did you know her?” I asked. 

“Used to flirt. You know. She always said I couldn’t handle her. She was right. So I’d buy her drinks. She liked when I buy her drinks.” He answered. 

“Was she that kind of girl? Party girl, maybe?” Morgan asked. 

“It was hard to tell when she was loaded or not. I mean, she was always off. Like she had her own song goin’ on in her head.” Dinah answered. 

“Mack the knife.” The blonde girl on the other side of the bar said and we all looked at her. 

“Let me ask you, did Abigail come in often? Was she a regular customer?” Spencer asked as I walked over to the girl. 

“What was that?” I asked. 

“Mack the knife.” She said with a sigh. 

“Was that the song in her head?” I asked confused. 

“No. it was the name of her last… date. You know what I mean?” She answered. 

“I do. Have you ever met Mack the knife?” I asked. 

“No. She told me about him, said he was a good tipper.” She said. 

“Do you know where we might find him?” I asked. She started shaking and I looked over Dinah who was staring at us. 

“Would you prefer if we chat privately?” I asked quietly. 

“I can’t.” She said. 

“Okay.” I said and sat down next to her. 

“Why don’t we just talk then, you don’t have to look at me. Don’t move your head, just keep looking down.” I said quietly and took my card out. 

“I’m just trying to flirt with a pretty girl. And if you don’t mind, could you lean over and take this card from me?” I asked. She leaned over and took it from me. 

“See? I’m not so bad.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Come on, we’re just talking, having some fun, right?” I asked with a smile. 

“Why don’t you show me that pretty smile of yours. And smack me on my shoulder, like maybe I’m trying to get fresh or something, huh?” I said trying to instruct her what to do. 

“No? Yeah? Yeah?” I said with a raise of my brow as she shoved me a little bit. 

“Dirty girl, you wish.” She said with a flirty laugh. 

“Alright, well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Especially when a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone.” I said and she gave a little giggle. 

“It was nice to meet you.” I said with a smile and got up to return to the boys. 

“One last question. Do either of these two people look familiar to you?” Morgan asked as Spencer placed the pictures. 

“The boy looks familiar. Girl I’ve never seen.” Dinah said, shaking her head. 

“Well, thank you for your time. Would you mind if we came back a little later?” Spencer asked, collecting the photos. 

“Oh, anytime. Got nothin’ to hide.” She answered and we went to leave. 

“Sorry I couldn’t help you none.” She added as we left. We called Hotch and JJ, telling them about what we found out. 

The next day we got a call about another victim. All of us got our coffee and started the day. Spencer, Rossi ,and I went to where the body was. We pulled up and they were about to cut the body down. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing!?” Spencer shouted, stopping them. 

“Do not disturb the crime scene.” The Sheriff that came with us said. 

“We took a bunch of pictures just like you ordered.” The other cop said. 

“I ordered you not to touch a damn thing.” He said. 

“We need to look at the crime scene undisturbed. Do you mind not standing there?” I said. 

“He’s escalated his cuts. They’re not only bigger-”

“Cutting was done postmortem. It was the gunshot that killed her.” Spencer said, cutting Rossi off. 

“How can you tell?” An officer asked. 

“Uh, based on the lack of blood flow and scar tissue. If she were alive when this was done, there would be a lot more blood on her back.” Spencer answered. 

“Which means this wasn’t S&M. This was symbolic.” I said. 

“Symbolic of what?” The Sheriff asked. 

“We’re not sure.” Rossi said. 

“Can you guys smell that?” Spencer asked.  

“Lavender.” Rossi said. 

“That doesn’t grow in these parts.” The officer said. 

“It’s mainly around her legs.” Spencer said. 

“Why would he do that?” He asked. 

“Reid, can you look into it? We can’t trust the coroner to follow through.” Rossi said. 

“Yeah.” Spencer said getting up. 

“I can help.” I said following behind him. 

Spencer and I checked out the information, then joined the team to give the profile. Once we were set up we gathered everyone up and was ready to tell them what we’ve learned. 

“We believe the unsub we’re looking for is a white male in his early 30’s. While his M.O. is that of a sadist, we think there’s an underlying pathology of what we call a wound collector.” Hotch said. 

“What’s that?” One of the officers asked. 

“A wound collector is someone who uses a lifetime of sleights, grievance, and wrongs as justification for violence.” Spencer said. 

“Examples can be as large-scale as Hitler scapegoating the jews for the Holocaust, or as common as an abusive husband blaming his wife as an excuse to beat her.” I explained. 

“This unsub is low key, almost submissive in public. He has to be to attract the prostitutes.” Rossi said. 

“But his real nature will be revealed in the safety of isolation. This is the type of man who would anonymously express himself online by raging against how these women are filled with disease and filth, how they deserve what’s coming to them, probably to cover for the rejection of a woman or spouse who’s wronged him.” Spencer said. 

“Which means the unsub probably has a working-class or part-time job. It gives him the time to plan and execute the murders.” JJ said. 

“He’s strong and good with his hands and probably drives a work truck or large vehicle.” Rossi said. 

“This allows him to move the bodies and carry the tools for posing his victims.” Alex said. 

“Tabitha Ryerson tells us he’s losing control. He killed her in her home and then transported her body to the woods so he could mutilate her postmortem. The public nature of the display was a message.” Morgan said. 

“To who?” An officer asked. 

“To us. This is a small town and he knows the FBI is here investigating his crimes. He thinks that he’s showing us that he’s smarter than we are.” I answered. 

“He’s also showing us his wounds. There’s part of him that wants us to stop and punish him for his crimes.” Hotch said as his phone rang. 

“Thank you. Excuse me.” He said answering and walking off. The meeting was now dismissed and we all went off to do our own thing. 

Currently Alex and Rossi were interviewing a man they called Mack the knife. However, it turned out it wasn’t our guy. Spencer and I were still looking into the lavender while all this was going on. 

“I think we got it!” He said, turning to me. 

“What is it?” I asked and he showed me a book. 

“Let’s go tell the team.” I smiled and we walked over to the others. Hotch was talking to one of the victim's sisters when he looked over at us. He came over and Spencer was ready to rattle off the information we found. 

“Guys, I think we know what the lavender on Tabitha Ryerson’s legs is about. Have you ever heard of spikenard?” He asked. 

“Uh, no.” One of the officers answered. 

“It’s perfume. It’s mentioned in the gospels.” Hotch answered. 

“Yes! It’s derived from lavender. It’s what Mary Magdalene used to wash jesus’ feet, which tells us that this unsub’s message is obviously religious in nature.” I said. 

“Preacher Mills, maybe. He came forward to volunteer information.” Morgan said. 

“Well, yesterday he said he’d let us know if he had any more information, but apparently he’s changed his mind.” Hotch said. 

“He fits the profile. He’s morally rigorous, submissive in public.” JJ said. 

“So we’ll put an APB out for him.” One of the cops said with a nod. 

Spencer and Morgan went to the church to see if he might be there. I was here with the rest of the team trying to figure out where he could be, if he wasn’t there. 

“Well I don’t get it, if the preacher had something to do with it, then why was he so helpful?” An officer asked. 

“Unsubs insert themselves into investigations all the time. They enjoy the power and the feeling that they’re smarter than us.” Alex answered. 

“And to keep tabs on the case. He wanted to know how close we were to catching him.” Hotch added and I heard my phone ring. 

“Hey Garcia, whatcha got?” I answered and put her on speaker. 

“I got the backhoe going into the not-so-clean preacher. I haven’t found his present whereabouts yet, but I’m looking at his bank account and I can tell you he doesn’t adhere to the “give all your money to the poor” model.” She said. 

“Any idea where the money’s coming from?” Hotch asked. 

“Not yet. But it’s mostly cash, and we’re talking six figures big.” She answered. 

“You know, maybe it’s sex trafficking. This unsub is able to get prostitutes to let their guard down. They’re somebody he knows.” Alex said. 

“I thought you said our killer was a John.” An officer said. 

“Prostitutes would rat out a JOhn or kill him themselves, but they’d never go against their own pimp.” I said. 

“Garcia, take everything we know about Mills and run it up against pandering and procuring charges. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.” Hotch said. 

“You got it.” She said. She hung up and called us back when she had more information. 

“Did you know the charge of being a pimp, when gussied up, is “procuring and pandering”? And Hotch was right. Preacher Mills is familiar with this charge. Because before he was Justin Mills, he was Gordon Borell, and he was arrested for cutting one of the ladies he employed.” She said. 

“Where did he cut her?” Rossi asked. 

“On the back. When questioned, she said- oh, I’m gonna have to look at kitten videos after this- He was marking his property.” She said. 

“You’re kidding.” The Sheriff said. 

“That’s why he specifically asked me about the wounds on Lucas Wagner. He knew we’d find out about his past.” Hotch said. 

“Hey, Garcia? Why didn’t we find this out until now?” I asked. 

“Because he changed his name when he crossed the border. The Northern border to be exact. Mr. Mill, Nee borell, is from Tees, Alberta. I’ll tell you what those Canadians, They seem so sweet and innocent, but when they go back, they go Darth Vader bad.” She said and I shook my head. I decided it wasn’t the right time to tell her that Darth Vader turned to save his son’s life. 

“So he came here to start over, took on the mantle of the collar as the perfect cover for the sex trade.” Rossi said. 

“No one in this town would question a man of God. But now we got the smoking gun we need on this guy.” The Sheriff said. 

“Garcia, was there an attempted murder charge?” Hotch asked. 

“No. In fact, she said he wanted her to go back out and start working when he was done cutting her.” She answered. 

“He’s not our unsub.” Hotch said. 

We hung up with Garcia and went back to the rest of the team, now that Spencer and Morgan were back. 

“This guy fits to a T. How can we rule him out?” The Sheriff asked. 

“Criminally, pimps follow the same behavioral pattern as drug dealers.” I said with a shrug. 

“Prostitutes are his revenue stream.” JJ said. 

“He would only kill them as a last resort.” Spencer said. 

“Which is why the cutting in Canada was a punishment, not a religious punishment, but a punishment for not doing their jobs.” Alex said. 

“Then he comes here to start over, set up a new shop.” Morgan said. 

“And that’s when somebody found out about his past, used it as a forensic countermeasure to throw us off track by framing him.” I said. 

“That’s why the gir;s kept saying, “They’re” after us. There wasn’t a team of unsubs, but one sadist copying the behavior of another.” Hotch said.

“It would also explain the change with Tabitha, the escalation, the perfume on the feet.” Spencer said. 

“But you said the unsub wanted us to catch him and punish him.” The Sheriff said. 

“What he really wanted was for us to catch the preacher.” Rossi said. 

“So whoever this guy is, he’s fooled all of us, and now we got nothin’ when it comes to the profile.” The Sheriff said. 

“No, that’s not true. The unsub chose Mills for a reason, and Mills can still lead us to the unsub. We’ll have Agent Morgan and the deputies start at his house.” Hotch said and off they went.  We were all trying to figure out where the preacher could be going. So far, nothing. 

“Repeat, I’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner.” An officer over the radio said, which made my ears perk up. 

“Copy, Deputy. We’re on our way.” The Sheriff said to her. 

“We got him.” He said walking up to us. 

“Alright, Blake, Reid, and Y/L/N go with the Sheriff. Dave and I will coordinate the response here.” Hotch ordered and we nodded. We followed behind the Sheriff and got on our way. 

“The preacher’s not answering.” Spencer said as we were on our way. 

“Keep trying, we need to tell him we know he didn’t do this.” Alex said and Spencer went back to calling. Still no answer. 

“He’s been in there a good five minutes now. I haven’t seen any movement yet.” The officer that was at the scene already said as soon as we got out. 

“What about patrons?” I asked. 

“Uh, it’s closed.” She answered. 

“How many entrances?” Alex asked. 

“Uh, two it looks like.” She answered. 

“The question is, is he alone?” Spencer asked. 

“Guys, I’ve got movement. We should move in now, Sheriff.” Another officer said. 

“Actually, we’re better off establishing the perimeter first. We need to open up and line of communication.” Spencer said. 

“Alright, agreed. We need to get around to the-” The Sheriff started, but was cut off by a gunshot, he was down. 

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” One of the officers shouted and we all got down. They started shooting at the window trying to hit the preacher. I saw the Sheriff still alive not far from us and I went to try and pull him to us. The preacher started shooting wherever he could and I was in his line of fire, but I couldn’t just leave the Sheriff there. 

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted and ran out to try and pull me back. 

“Reid!” I heard Morgan shout and I looked back to see Spencer on the ground. I dropped the Sheriff and quickly went to Spencer’s side. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” I shouted, but he was out of it. Morgan ran up and pulled him back. I went with him while JJ and Alex went to try and help the Sheriff. Morgan rested Spencer against a car and I kneeled down next to him. He had been shot in the neck. 

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here.” I whispered. 

“Y/N! We’re going in, you stay with him!” Morgan called and I nodded. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby, the ambulance is on their way.” I whispered. I saw his eyes open for a second and he looked at something, but I was too focused on him to drag my attention away. His eyes shut once again and I was beginning to panic. 

“Hurry! Please!” I shouted. Alex came beside me and looked at him. 

“Ethan! Ethan! You have to keep your eyes open.” She said. She was calling him the wrong name, but now wasn’t the time to correct her. The paramedics finally came and Spencer was being loaded into the ambulance. Alex was on the phone with Cruz as I stared at Spencer, worried and scared. 

“Y/N you should go in the ambulance with him.” JJ said walking up to us, along with Morgan. I just nodded and quickly got in with him, Morgan was joining us since he was a little banged up too. 

“The sound is like a tea kettle. Do you hear it?” Spencer asked with a slight slur. 

“What? Reid.” Morgan asked. 

“Pressure’s dropping.” One of the paramedics said and I swear my heart leaped out of my chest. 

“Pulse is thready. Starting large-bore I.V.” He said. 

“Spencer!” I cried. 

“Reid!” Morgan said worried. 

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.” The woman working on Morgan said to him. 

“You gotta help him, man.” Morgan said to the guy. 

“Spencer, please, you’re stronger than this.” I said gently holding his hand. 

“Stay with us, we’re right here.” Morgan said to him. 

“Spencer, please, stay with us.” I begged. 

We finally made it to the hospital and they took him in right away. I had done to the bathroom to wash my hands and when I came out JJ was there with Alex. 

“Anything yet?” She asked and I shook my head. I took a seat near them and tried to hold back my tears. 

“Spencer would have read like two books by now, maybe three.” JJ said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It should have been me…” I whispered. 

“Or me, or any of us.” JJ said. 

“No. He pushed me out of the way…” I said with tears in my eyes. 

“If he doesn’t make it…” I started, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence. The tears finally falling. 

“He’ll make it.” JJ said. 

“He has to.” Alex said. Garcia walked in and saw us. 

“Hey.” She said walking over and coming to give me a hug. 

“You made it.” JJ said. 

“Yeah, turns out we’re not the only ones connected, he knows somebody with a plane.” She said, trying to keep the mood light. 

“How is he?” She asked. 

“Still in surgery.” Alex answered with a sigh. 

“You all can see Agent Morgan now.” A nurse said to us. 

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d really like to stay here…” I said looking down at my hands. 

“The second you hear anything, call us.” JJ said and I nodded. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” Garcia said and I nodded with a sad smile. 

I’m not sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. All the negative thoughts were running through my head and I couldn’t stop them. 

“Agent.” Someone said and I looked up to see a doctor.

“How is he?” I asked standing up. 

“Incredibly lucky. Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we’ve stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He said and it felt like I could breathe again. I grabbed his things that they gave me and quickly called JJ. 

“Hey, how is he?” She asked. 

“He’s alive. I’m going to see him now.” I said. 

“Great. Okay, thanks Y/N.” She said and hung up. Garcia had met up with me in his room and she was setting up little Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“It’ll be so great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees.” She said. 

“Yeah… The Doctor always makes him smile.” I said with a sad smile.

“It’d be really weird if he wakes up and we’re all just oooh starting at him.” She said, which made me actually laugh a little bit. 

“So, I’m gonna go stand over here.” She said and moved to the window. I gently grabbed his hand and sighed. Garcia had went to go get him some food for when he wakes up. 

“Y/N?” He asked and I looked up to see him awake and I smiled. 

“Spencer! You’re alright.” I said and he looked at the Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“Garcia.” I said before he could ask. He chuckled and I moved to sit at the edge of his bed. 

“When this comes off, I’m gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” He said and I chuckled a bit. 

“A little green makeup and it’ll be the best Halloween costume ever. And I could always go as the Bride of Frankenstein.” I said and he chuckled. 

“You’d look very cute.” He said and closed his eyes. 

“Hey, everyone is fine, don’t worry.” I said gently squeezing his hand. 

“I’m not.” He said with a small smile. 

“Then what is it?” I asked, but before he could answer Garcia walked in. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said with a smile. 

“Look who’s still awake. Can you tell her she can go now, please?” Garcia asked him and motioned her head at me. 

“I’m okay, Y/N. Go help the team.” He said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to leave him… 

“Are you sure?” I asked and he nodded with a smile. 

“They need you, you have to be my fill in.” He joked. 

“Fine.” I chuckled. 

“I love you.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I love you too, now go.” He said and I nodded. 

“Call me if anything changes.” I said to Garcia and she nodded. 

I made my way back to the station. I was kind of in the dark about what was going on. 

“Hey, how’s Dr. Reid?” One of the officers asked as I walked in. 

“He’s awake, he’s gonna be fine.” I answered and made my way to the team.

“That’s good to hear.” He said.  

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Let’s take a car ride. I’ll fill you in.” Rossi said in a quiet voice. 

“JJ, send us the info.” He added as he got up, along with Alex. 

“Will do.” She whispered. The three of us left. 

Apparently Dianh had a son that was being used against her. The cops were corrupt. Luckily we had a suspect so hopefully everything would work out. Rossi and Alex were in the front talking, but I couldn’t seem to pay attention. My mind kept drifting back to Spencer. 

“What the hell?” I heard Rossi say, which snapped me back into reality. They were looking in the mirrors and I looked back to see two cop cars following us. They turned their sirens on and trapped us between them. 

“I thought you said it doesn’t get any worse.” Alex said.

“Until it does.” Rossi said. The two officers got out with their hands on their guns and we just watched in shock. 

“Are they really gonna shoot Federal Agents?” I asked. 

“They’re cops who’d rather die than get locked up. They’re desperate.” Rossi said. 

“She’s coming to you.” He said to Alex.

“Don’t they know they’re outnumbered?” I asked. 

“I don’t think they care.” Alex said as we all pulled out our guns. 

“Let’s roll.” Rossi said. We started shooting and just rolled through them. I was hit in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything too bad. I could deal with it for a few hours if needed. I moved to the front with Rossi while Alex sat in the back with Dianh’s kid and her Mother. 

“You alright kid?” Rossi asked me. 

“I’ll be fine for a few hours, let’s get them to the safe house, then we can deal with me after.” I said and they nodded., We got them to the safehouse and the rest met us there with Dianh. 

“Let’s go, you two drop Y/N off at the hospital then meet us at the junkyard.” Hotch said and Rossi and Alex nodded. 

“I’m fine Hotch.” I said and he shook his head. 

“I’m not letting you go with a bullet wound.” He said and I sighed. Probably a good idea. They dropped me off at the hospital and I was getting treated. As soon as I was done they said I was free to go and I decided to just go see Spencer. 

“Hey, you guys okay?” I asked. 

“What happened to you?” Garcia asked. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” I said and smiled at Spencer sleeping. 

Finally the case was over and we could all go home. When we got off the plane Alex offered to help us home. We knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were walking upstairs to our apartment and it felt so good to be home again. 

“You sure you guys are okay?” She asked. 

“I feel great.” Spencer answered and I nodded in agreement. 

“Ah, that’s overselling it.” He said and I giggled. 

“I, uh, I feel great considering I just got shot in the neck.” He said as we reached the top of the stairs. 

“Sounds about right.” I said. Spencer opened the door and Alex followed us in. 

“Where do you want this?” She asked referring to our bags that she refused to let us carry. 

“Right there is fine.” I said pointing to the couch. 

“Okay, so, you two should get some sleep.” She said. 

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked. 

“Yesterday touched a nerve when I saw you like that.” She said. 

“Who’s Ethan?” I asked. 

“My son.” She answered and my eyes widened slightly. 

“He was nine when he died. Doctors said it was neurological, but they didn’t have a name for it. Still don’t. That drove me crazy, no word to put to this thing that took away my greatest love.” She said and my heart hurt for her. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said. 

“He kept growing despite his disease. The last time I laid beside him, he was almost as long as me. He was ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I begged him to open his eyes. And the cruelest part was that I could see who he would be at twenty, but I knew he’d never get there.” She said. 

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” I whispered. 

“Ethan’s a great name.” Spencer said which made her smile. 

“Yeah. It means enduring.” She said. 

“It’s fitting.” I said. 

“You and James never let go of one another.” Spencer said and she smiled. She made her way to the door, but Spencer stopped her. 

“Have you ever had that feeling that your future is somehow behind you?” He asked and I looked at him confused. 

“All the time.” She answered with a nod. 

“I did, too. But it isn’t.” He said and I smiled at him. 

“Ethan would have been a lot like you.” She said and left. 

“Bye Alex.” He said and I knew it was the final goodbye. She wasn’t going to be a part of us anymore. I pulled Spencer in for a hug and he held me tightly. 

“I really thought my future was behind me, until I met you.” He said and kissed my head. 

“I know.” I whispered and smiled up at him. He pulled away and walked over to his bag. He pulled out a small box and turned back to me. He got down on one knee and my eyes widened. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you with all my heart and you’ve helped me so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” He asked and a few tears fell down my cheek. 

“Yes! A million times yes! I love you so much Spencer.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back with a laugh and placed the perfect ring on my finger. I looked at the ring and it was simple gold with small diamonds around the outside. The band itself was like a vine and it was perfect. 

“This is amazing Spencer.” I whispered and he smiled. 

“I thought you’d love it.” He said and I smiled up at him. 

“We should probably get some sleep now.” I whispered and he nodded. 

“Come on, let’s rest up.” He said, pulling me along with him. We got into bed and he held me close. 

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and kissed my head. 

“I love you so much too, Spencer.” I whispered back and smiled. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @pettyjayy​ @reidssmile​ @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @braeleexelizabeth​ @satans-0-spawn​ @emofairygay​

[eleanorbloom]

Special Thanks (When You're Ready Edition)

I cannot end this series without thanking each and every one of you for your support. All the things Elle and Bryce said in the toast, make them mine too. Thank you for your support in all these months. Whether it was reading, commenting, reblogging, inspiring me, helping me find the motivation to write, etc. And above all, thank you for your patience. Patience for all the time it took me to finish this series and patience for all the mistakes I made.

As you all know, English is not my first language, this was my first fic writing in a second language and was such a challenge. So thank you for giving me the opportunity despite the mess the first chapters were. Hopefully, and with a lot of practice, my English started improving hehe

Your support meant the world to me. As much as I loved writing this series, because it was a way to explore and understand my own feelings (because I, as Eleanor, was trapped between Ethan and Bryce), I cannot lie there were times where I wanted to drop everything and stop complicating my life with this. But thanks to your support and motivation I kept going until I finished this. This is such an accomplishment for me, you have no idea 😭

When I started preparing this post, I looked for the original doc where I saved the first ideas for that fic, and I found out it was in May. So I've been working on this project for a year!!!

And how did I come up with this? Actually, from another fic idea lol Mid April I started indulging the idea of writing my first fanfic because, oh, woow, I was obsessedwith Ethan and my love for him had reached that point where I wanted to write. So I started writing a fic where Bryce helped Eleanor to make Ethan jealous by spending a lot of time together and sharing pics on Instagram (all that after Eleanor helped him create his Instagram account in the Gwyneth chapter). But, wow, I had the brilliant idea of writing something like, "Hope he realizes what he's missing because I know I can win your heart if I put my mind on it". And, oh, damn, I felt SO SO SO BAD FOR BRYCE. Because that line implied he had feelings for Eleanor (which I hadn't considered at that moment, that line simply flowed with me) and honestly I just couldn't resist it. I couldn't resist that he had to see the woman he had feelings for, being in love with someone who wasn't valuing her at that moment. So then I had the idea of writing a fic where Bryce proposed to her to win her heart at night in a nice surrounding after a cute date, and BUM that's how When You're Ready was born. Of course, I never finished that jealous fic because I became too invested in WYR and when I tried, I wasn't as interested in Ethan as before. So, yeah, from an Ethan fic, when I wasn't even in love with Bryce, just a bit torn, I ended up writing this series. But I knew from the start Bryce would be endgame because that boy deserves the world, and because I was tired that MC in most of the fics out there, they ended up choosing Ethan instead of Bryce. I just couldn't do it! Though I NEVER imagined I would end up this in love with him 🥺🥺🥺Maybe it was meant to be, just like Eleanor wondered, that I would fall in love with Bryce. This is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time 🥰

Well, now I want to give some special thanks, to some people that have been incredibly important in this process.

First, to Kao, one of the first people that read my fic and that stayed till the end with me. I always say this, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart: Thank you for your constant support and always taking the time to leave a comment, even in moments when it was hard for you. I know it was especially difficult in some moments when there was huge Ethan content and all you wanted was Eleanor to choose Bryce 😂 So thank you for sticking with my story!!! I know I kinda broke your heart a couple of times, so, I'm sorry and I hope the ending was cute enough to mend it 😅

Dom! You've been since the beginning with me too! Thank you for giving me the chance despite the mess those first chapters were, and sharing your own feelings about it, since you have feelings for both of them and you could understand the conflict very deeply. And thank you for inspiring me with your works to write all the Ethan angst. FATL was a huge source to write the saddest moments with Ethan 😟

Rome, my darling, your comments always make me laugh and cry, they’re so funny and expressive, but also so emotional, like, sometimes I feel like you’re reading something else but not my works, how they made you feel that way?? Thank you for your support and hype. For including my babies in your big project Baking Love, and simply for being there for me 😊 I love youuu!!

Conch! Thank you for all your support since the moment you started reading my series, for all the hype, inspo and just being my friend! Your support has been so important for me in all this process! I love you 3000 ❤️

Kaly! You joined just recently, well, like a-couple-of-months-ago recently, but I wanna thank you for your support since then and for sharing your insights and support with me! Knowing you wanna keep reading about my babies makes me soooo happy. I hope I can keep indulging you with that 😊

Petra, my darling, thanks for your support and all the effort you put into writing your comments since you joined me on this crazy ride. Thanks for supporting me with every idea and reading my little 'behind the scenes' while I was rereading WYR. It makes me so happy you sided with Bryce even if you're crazy in love with Ethan 😂 I think I did my work well hahaha

Nikka 💖 if you read this, know that I'll be forever thankful for your support and the massive comments you left, and all the emotions you poured in every chapter. Honestly, your words were such a light in the darkest moments of my writing process, and I'll always remember you fondly for that. Thank you for your kindness and love ❤️

Ruby ❤️ your support in the first half of the series will always mean the world to me ❤️ Thank you for giving me the chance and supporting all my works 😊(And sorry for breaking your heart ☹️) Your writing was such a huge inspiration to me!!

And well, thanks to whoever liked, commented, and reblogged my works. And all the silent readers too! Hope you enjoyed this series and you're free to leave messages or anons to share your thoughts if you still wanna remain as a silent reader hahaha I just want to know what are your thoughts now that we have reached the end.

I know this was long, but having your support during this long process means too much to not express my gratitude with a super cheesy and sappy post (Eleanor obviously got that from me, I think there's no surprise there 😂)

Sending each and every one of you a big hug (if you like hugs, lol) and my eternal gratitude for all the support given ❤️

Dani.

[wri0thesley]

a lot more ppl sent me very lovely messages and i don’t want to spam dashes OR ignore them so i’m replying to them in a batch below the read more!:

jellyluchi said: idk what those anons are on but I'm really glad you're writing for a different media I don't see a lot of jjk content so seeing it on my dash is great! plus it's your blog so you should be able to able to write whatever you want! you're not betraying anyone for writing stuff you like

tysm sid!!! i love jojo and i will probably not be abandoning it but people forget i’ve been here for FOUR YEARS (!) and i’m one of very few blogs still around. like. people don’t even remember the blogs that were popular when i was still writing :(. i’m just excited to have a new interest!!! <3 

Anonymous said: Nat: la squadra posts 24/7 Anon: you're basically abandoning the jojo fandom relinquish your card No but seriously, people are allowed to focus on other types of media, especially if the current fandom is waning. Not saying more people are leaving the JoJo fandom than staying, but that it's had to make do with the available content. I'd say more people (inside and outside the fandom) are more familiar with the anime, and Golden Wind ended 1-2 years ago. I'm sure once Stone Ocean comes out, the fandom will go wild again. Either way, I don't mind what you post, I just like seeing you talk so passionately

gosh it’s been so long since VA, huh? i’m still here, still working on stuff - my inspiration for jojo has just waned a little! i still love talking to you all about my husbands and your husbands. a lot of my friends are into jjk now too which means that i have people to bounce ideas off in a way i don’t as much for jojo! i’m sure when SO starts i’ll come crawling back but for now let me have a little fun! <3  also i really do still not shut up about la squadra dfbvnkjdfgn. i’ve been saying to myself i’ll publish one jojo thing and one jjk thing a day and it’s been going really well so far! 

mix-senpai said: I like to assume that the anons who say that stupid shit to you is always the same little gremlin who apparently has nothing better to do. I know you don't want people to openly riot over these anons, but honestly? You're one of the sweetest, and most friendly and accepting person I personally have ever met, so color me baffled to find that clowns like that anon would have the nerve to give you such a nasty attitude and be so rude for no reason. Like, hello? They're not the boss around here- it's not their blog it's yours to post whatever you please, they have zero say on the matter and they just have to deal with it. Keep doing you. Keep being your lovely self. And just keep doing whatever makes you happy, okay?

i block them as much as i can but i dont think it works very well fgnkjbng. as a whole i delete a lot of mean messages but honestly i’ve been expecting this one for a while which is why i bothered replying to it! tysm friend! <3

Anonymous said: 1. you still enjoy and write for jojo, you didn’t “abandon” anyone. and even if you did lose interest in jojo, that isn’t really your fault. people lose interest in things. 2. it’s YOUR blog. youre allowed to post, write, and simp over whoever you please from whatever fandom. i like jojo and jujutsu kaisen, but i also stay because i just generally like reading what you say and post because i like you, not just because i like what you can provide for me. you deserve to have followers that feel the same way, aka not that anon

the use of words like ABANDON and BETRAYAL is so funny to me honestly, this is just a thirstposting blog it’s not that deep fgbnkjgfn. thank you so much friend!! i’m glad so many people at least seem to like both, it makes me feel less bad! <3 

Anonymous said: are you seriously getting shit on just because you have interests other than jjba??? lmao how the fuck does that anon survive on tumblr 😂😂😂 one of the blogs i followed for, like, gravity falls content or something several years ago, who has since shifted their focus to posting content from numerous other fandoms, ended up putting monsterfucker content on my dash the other day because that’s just what they’re interested in right now apparently! and you know what i said about it? abso-fucking-lutely nothing because it is not my business to dictate the content they post on their blog, and if they ever start posting stuff that’s a dealbreaker for me, then i’ll just leave quietly and leave them to their business. a content creator that you followed for a certain type of content deciding to change what fandom they produce content for is not a “betrayal” or whatever, it’s just them being a human fucking person on the other side of the screen! anyway, i just wanna tell you that your writing slaps, i hope people continue to recognize that your writing slaps no matter WHAT fandom you write for, and i hope you have a fantastic time writing your funky lil heart out for jjk 💓

honestly some anons in my inboxes have WILD takes. i follow so many ppl who arent into jojo anymore but i consider them MY FRIENDS AND I LOVE THEM. i just want them to be happy! and if ppl arent happy with my content there is an unfollow button RIGHT THERE!!

Anonymous said: That anon saying they feel betrayed either copy and pasted their message or something because a few other blogs that used to be JJBA only, then branched out to multi fandom stuff, got the same if not similar messages.

yes! like i said earlier, i’ve been expecting this message for a while bc i’ve seen a lot of my mutual writer friends get it. as a whole, i delete a lot of mean messages instead of replying, but i felt like this one might come up again so i wanted to nip in the bud so to speak! <3 

Anonymous said: honestly, nat after over a year of being stuck inside and not being able to see my friends or do very much, it honestly just feels NICE to be excited about something with other people! i will ALWAYS love jojo but thank you so much for turning me on to jjk!! my partner and i were also in kind of an anime rut and hadn't watched a new series together in months but we are both enjoying it immensely 💖

AHH i hope you are the same anon who messaged me about it before because i am so happy that you are enjoying it!!! i convinced haz to watch jjk too and now we’re both having a very good time (she just got up to date with the manga!). it’s so nice sharing things you care about with people!

[ghostiesblog]

happy 100 followers!!!!!!!!! could you write a small flarrie secret admirer drabble? if not that’s totally ok!! congrats again!!!

Thank you anon!!! This is NOT a small drabble lmao I have no concept of doing anything in moderation. Might even edit it a bit in a while and post it on ao3. Thank you for the awesome prompt. Here ya go:

I'm not magical, I can't read your mind

Pairings: Flarrie | Warnings: none

There’s a rose on Flynn’s desk. There’s a rose on Flynn’s desk. And she has no idea who put it there.

Well- she does know who put it there, she knows that it’s Nick’s job this year to distribute the Valentine’s Day roses and messages, a school tradition that Flynn normally despises and mocks to no end. But someone must have bought the rose, addressed it to her and handed it in and Flynn absolutely cannot fathom who would do that for her.

Definitely not the person she wishes this was from. But now is not the time to think about that.

Almost frantically, she scans the rose for an attached message, or at least an indication about who the sender is.

Nothing. In fact, it looks like the cardboard tag has been ripped off, leaving only the corner with her own name, attached to a piece of string.

“Ooh”, Julie says, waggling her eyebrows, when she spots Flynn puzzling over her flower. “Who’s this from?”

“No idea”, Flynn says, dragging her thumb across the jagged edges of the destroyed tag. “No idea…”

-

Later in the hallway, Flynn tries her best to stealthily transfer the rose from her backpack into her locker. She fails, obviously, because she when she looks around she catches Carrie blatantly staring at her from a few feet away.

“What?” she snaps, irritably. Yes, Carrie has very clearly been trying to be nicer to both her and Julie, but Flynn is still weary of this new found peace.

She also might be a bit annoyed simply because she got a rose and it isn’t from Carrie.

Immediately, something in Carrie’s posture changes and her face scrunches up.

“Nothing”, she says. “Just wondering who’s stupid enough to send you a rose.”

Flynn feels like she’s been punched in the chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” she says incredulously.

“Don’t you hate valentine’s day?” Carrie asks and now Flynn is just confused. Why does she still remember that?

“It’s anonymously”, Julie chimes in unhelpfully. “From a secret admirer”

She sings those last words teasingly, like she’s done all the way through English lesson. Like she has any room to talk with the songs Luke and her write about each other on the daily.

Carrie raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed.

“Someone sent you a rose and didn’t even write their name? That’s so stupid.”

“It’s not-“, Flynn starts and then breaks off. Why does she suddenly feel defensive over this anonymous sender?

“Sounds like a coward to me”, Carrie says with a sickly sweet smile before turning away. “See you in music”, she calls and disappears down the hallway.

“What has made her revert back to demon today?” Julie says, sounding as confused as Flynn feels.

-

Flynn doesn’t expect any follow up after the rose on Valentine’s Day. It has been fun coming up with more and more wild theories with Julie and the band (the latest being that it’s a ghost who has fallen for Flynn when they saw her setting up the lightshow at the Orpheum), but to Flynn at least it is clear that that was the end of it.

So when she finds a small envelope on her desk the next morning, it takes her a bit to figure out what’s happening here.

Inside, she finds a small piece of paper with, curiously enough, words clearly written by a real typewriter on it.

>

To: Flynn

I’m sorry I’m a mess,

But you simply make me speechless.

I couldn’t let you go without a note,

After I trashed the first one I wrote,

So let me just say, though this is nothing new,

I seem to have hopelessly fallen for you.

>

When Carrie catches Julie and Flynn pouring over the poem during lunch while walking past their table, she scoffs.

“A bit cliché, don’t you think?”

Flynn scowls and hides the note with her hand. “Go away Carrie”

“The meter’s off”, Carrie says haughtily before stalking off.

“How did she spot that so fast?” Julie exclaims incredulously.

-

The next note shows up in Flynn’s bag while she’s working on a Spanish presentation with Nick and Carrie.

>

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I like your music,

And your rapping too

>

“Now that’s just tacky”, Carrie says, while spying over Flynn’s shoulder.

Flynn rolls her eyes.

-

>

Flynn,

No poem today, just wanted to say that your smile made my day.

>

“They’re not even trying anymore, are they?” Carrie mocks.

-

>

With your gentle soul and your kind eyes,

You chase away the clouds in the skies,

Never met a person, so loyal and strong

And anyone who had you, would be a lucky one.

>

“Skies? This sounds ridiculous!”

Flynn curses the fact that Carrie keeps seeing these.

-

>

I’d write you a song, but no melody is beautiful enough to fit you.

>

Even Julie calls that one cheesy but for once, even though she sits right there with them, Carrie has nothing to say.

Flynn looks on confused while Carrie scribbles into her notebook with a pinched expression on her face, pen gripped so tightly that it looks like it might break any second.

“She needs to finish this new Dirty Candy song by tomorrow”, Nick explains.

“Yeah and I hate everything I write the second it’s on the page!” Carrie growls, clearly completely lost in whatever she’s dealing with.

-

>

I try to tell you every day,

But you just take my breath away

These rhymes seem silly and never enough

Forgive me, I am blinded by love

>

“Coming on a bit strong there.”

And she’s back.

-

>

Hi Flynn,

I think I’m giving up on the rhyming- It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Also I swear I’m not a stalker! Just a girl who likes you a lot and is too scared to tell you.

You looked so pretty at the dance yesterday, and you were awesome as a DJ- you always are.

>

“Surely you must be fed up with this nonsense by now?” Carrie asks, when Flynn passes her on her way out of the classroom, the newest note folded neatly in her hand.

The thing is- Flynn is annoyed. But not exactly by the letters. Her secret admirer is sweet and earnest, seems to love music as much as Flynn and all of her friends do and the little poems always brighten her day.

What’s annoying is that she still can’t figure out who this mysterious person with a crush on her is. And that the person she wishes it was is intend on mocking the whole thing to the best of her abilities.

Every time a new note shows up, Carrie is there, ready to tear it into pieces with pointed words and vicious critiques.

Flynn tries to not let it affect her too much. Otherwise, Carrie has been perfectly civil, friendly even and it feels like a bit of their old friendship is restoring, slowly, piece by piece. And what she says about the letters is mostly directed at this person that none of them really know, not at Flynn herself.

It still feels personal, somehow.

-

>

Flynn,

I had a bad day today, but you were really nice to me. It made it all a bit better. Thank you.

>

-

It’s when Carrie one day snatches one of the notes right out of Flynn’s hand to call it “embarrassing”, “awkward” and “clumsy”, that something in her just snaps.

“You know what Carrie”, she says, loudly, almost shouting it even, “can you, for once, just keep your unnecessary comments to yourself?”

Almost immediately, Carrie’s arrogant smile falls and Flynn uses the moment of surprise to steal back her piece of paper.

“You’ve been so mean to this person. I don’t know what your issue is here but I need you to back off on the attitude. I might not know who this is from, so I don’t even know if I like whoever is writing these but I like the letters.”

Carrie looks absolutely shocked, completely frozen in place, her jaw clenched tightly. Good.

“Yes, they might not be perfect”, Flynn barrels on, “but they’re honest, and raw and so, so kind and I can tell that they come from the heart and isn’t that the most important thing?!”

Without waiting for an answer, Flynn picks up her bag that she leaned against the lockers when she discovered the note and brushes past Carrie. She knows she’s a bit too worked up, but it has been a trying week.

Only a few moments later she realizes that she saw tears forming in Carrie’s eyes.

-

In Spanish class, Flynn notices the glaring absence of Carrie in the seat in front of her and a little bit of guilt starts building up inside of her. She has no idea what’s going on, but something clearly is up so after their teacher finally lets them go, Flynn goes on to try and find Carrie.

The music room is one of the first places Flynn thinks of and sure enough, she can hear gentle piano notes and Carrie’s voice singing very quietly drifting through the slightly cracked door.

Before barging in, Flynn stops short when she recognizes parts of the lyrics. Is that- one of the poems she received only a week ago?

Slowly, she tiptoes into the room. What she sees is Carrie, cross-legged at the piano, bent over her notebook full of scribbles that she’s clearly reading from and that somehow contain parts of the poetry that has been a big mystery to Flynn and all of her friends for so long. Just now Carrie’s singing the words that are undeniable not just poems, but song lyrics, and she has added onto them and-

Flynn doesn’t understand anything anymore.

“Carrie!” she says, before she can stop herself. Carrie flinches and bolts away from the piano, the chair clattering down to the floor in the process.

“Flynn”, she breathes, looking terrified.

“I-“, Flynn stutters, “What’s going on? Is this some kind of prank?” She doesn’t think she could take that.

“No!” Carrie yells and immediately winces at her volume. “No, I would never do that to you”

“Then why-“, Flynn is getting more confused every second, “you wrote those? I thought you hated- the notes, I though you hated the notes”

To her horror, Carrie is now actually crying.

“I do hate the notes, I mean I feel so stupid, you hate Valentine’s Day and then I send you a rose, but I just- I like so much and I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t and then I wrote you those notes but they always sounded so stupid to me”

Carrie is full on panic rambling now and Flynn is barely processing all this new information that is thrown at her.

“I just couldn’t stop myself and then you said you actually like the notes? But I know you’d never like me, as a person, I mean I am awesome as a performer but horrible as a friend, let alone as a girlfriend and-“

“Carrie-“, Flynn tries to intersect, “Carrie!”

Carrie stops and finally looks at her, wide eyed.

“I do like you, as a person”, Flynn says. Her heart is beating out of her chest but she is not letting this go.

“I- what?” Carrie looks as confused as Flynn felt just a minute ago. “You do?”

“Yes”, Flynn says and now she can’t stop the smile on her face, “I really like you. Actually, I always wished those notes were from you.”

Carrie blinks. “You. Okay. Okay. Um- I really didn’t-“

Flynn laughs. “Deep Breaths Carrie.”

“I don’t really know what to do with this now, I’m not good at all this”, Carrie says, waving her hands around but she’s smiling too now, wider with every moment.

“How about a date? Milkshakes?” Flynn asks and she doesn’t even feel afraid anymore.

“Yes”, Carrie says, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “I’d love that.”