#but you can do that by. being better. and actually doing good things. not just saying 'i wouldn't do that bad thing'

[woozinhos]

why do i think mingyu has a thing for size difference like have you seen his reaction when carat’s hands are smaller than his😦😦

Notes: wrote this little Drabble hope you enjoy 🤭

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Mingyu's back was pressed against the wall, his chest heaving as you knelt in front of him. Your small hands were wrapped around his thick cock, struggling to cover even half of it.

"Fuck, your hands are so tiny," he moaned, looking down at you with a mix of amusement and desire. "I can't believe they're actually holding me." You smirked and began to stroke him slowly, your fingers barely touching as you moved up and down his shaft.

"What's wrong, Mingyu?" you teased. "Can't handle a little size difference?" Mingyu let out a low growl, his hips bucking up into your touch. "It's not that," he said, his voice strained. "It's just... you look so small and delicate holding me like that. I feel like I could break you."

You chuckled and squeezed him gently, relishing in the way he gasped at the sensation. "I'm tougher than I look, you know," you replied, your thumb circling the head of his cock. "I can handle you just fine." Mingyu's head fell back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut as you continued to work him over. "I don't doubt that," he said, his voice husky. "But it's still a sight to see. Your little hands trying so hard to take me all in."

You leaned forward and licked a stripe up his shaft, your tongue flicking over the tip. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you asked, looking up at him with a smirk. "You like feeling big and powerful." Mingyu nodded, his hands coming down to rest on your head. "I do," he admitted, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I love the way you look up at me with those big eyes, struggling to please me."

He gently pushed your head down, urging you to take more of him into your mouth. "Come on, baby," he coaxed. "Show me how good you are at using those tiny hands and that little mouth of yours." You obeyed his command, taking as much of him as you could into your mouth. Your jaw stretched wide as you tried to accommodate his size, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Mingyu groaned in approval, his grip on your hair tightening. "That's it," he praised. "Just like that. You're doing so well for me." He started to guide your head up and down, using you like a toy for his pleasure. The feeling of being controlled and used by him was driving you wild, and you moaned around his cock.

Mingyu smirked down at you, noticing how much you were enjoying this. "Look at you, so eager to please," he teased. "Using your mouth and hands at the same time. You're a natural." He let go of your head, allowing you to set the pace again. You bobbed up and down, your hands working in tandem with your mouth as you stroked and squeezed his shaft.

Mingyu's moans grew louder, his breathing becoming ragged as he neared his climax once more. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice thick with desire. "You better be ready to take it all." You looked up at him with determination in your eyes, wanting to make him cum harder than ever before. You increased your speed, your hands and mouth working in perfect unison to bring him to the edge.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, his body tensing up again. "I'm gonna fill that pretty little mouth of yours." With a final, guttural moan, Mingyu came undone. His hot seed spilled into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat as you struggled to swallow it all. You swallowed as much as you could, but some of it spilled out the corners of your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Mingyu watched you with a satisfied smile, his chest heaving as he came down from his high.

"Such a messy girl," he teased, using his thumb to wipe the excess cum from your chin. "But you took it so well." He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "You're perfect," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Absolutely perfect."

[sailoryuns]

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[the-cats-noodles]

Everytime I see this, everytime, someone brings up marriage as an exception and I can't help but think, really?

I get it, promises are important (to death do us part, which is in and of itself an unrealistic standard but whatever i dont have time to talk abt that) but I feel like people forget that marriage for love is relatively recent? The point of marriage being to join households and pass on property is much older (and the origin of the whole "only death can make us separate" bc property and inheritance) like, the reason people stayed together was bc of duty not love and that was a very different environment than the one now (which is good) but it still means we're talking about a standard that is unrealistic in our current environment (not to mention the insane amount of murder over not being able to get divorced in the past, like it's a very good thing we can end marriages now)

There's nothing wrong with marrying someone and wanting to stay with them forever (we chose to do this for love and that was good actually), but can we stop pretending this idea is universal?

Making a promise is all well and good, but people change and their promises do too.

Like, yes you keep growing as you get older and yes you might grow closer with your partner (and that's perfectly normal and okay) BUT you might also grow apart and that is ALSO PERFECTLY OKAY

Saying that marriage is something to exclude from the idea of decentering permanence is kinda ignoring all the people who really shouldn't be staying together but "have" to (for the kids, reputation, etc) and anybody involved definitely feels that dynamic shift...

Just, yeah "keep your promises" but also know that breaking them is a part of life and its much better for both parties if you break a promise instead of wither away trying to uphold it for some perceived sense of duty or obligation to people whose opinions literally DO NOT matter

(If you wanna be with one person forever? great! If they don't agree bc they don't love you anymore? Oh well, tough luck, I guarantee you'll be better off letting them go then forcing them to stay in a legal contract, which is what marriage becomes when you don't feel love for the other party anymore)

Also I get most people don't want to force someone to stay in a situation that makes them miserable, at least I really hope they don't, but when (as a society) we place more importance on the whole 'till death do us part' bit and less on the 'I love you and want to show it' (or even say the only way to show it is to hold onto that person forever) then it kinda forces people into this idea of "having" to stay

And look, counseling is great, it can work wonders, but it is NOT a miracle worker. It can't fix everything and it doesn't have to bc A LOT of marriages aren't broken they're just fizzling out

Am I making any sense? Who knows, but I was raised in a community where ending a marriage or relationship was worse than cheating bc "marriages are work"

They are, but you also retire from work when it becomes a strain and you can't do it anymore. You can quit a job if it doesn't fit. I'm not saying marriage is a job, but I am saying that if we expect marriage to involve work we can expect it to reach the point where people just DONT WANT TO DO THAT ANYMORE and that's okay

I'm begging: please stop insisting marriage is different from other relationships in this regard bc it isn't. It's sweet and a wonderful experience but it's still just a love between two people and we can't expect that to be magically enough to stop the natural progression all relationships go through.

You lose friends over time but some stay around. You lose family over time (like, no contact in this case not necessarily through death) but some stay around. You lose lovers and partners over time but some stay around. And that's okay, u just don't see how the last one is somehow expected to have more weight.

(Which I believe was op's point? That they're all temporary and that's a good thing actually)

Like everything is temporary, it's just sometimes that temporary lines up with our lives bc we ourselves are temporary beings, and it's okay if it does and it's okay if it doesn't.

I think a lot about how we as a culture have turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success.

Like… if you open a coffee shop and run it for a while and it makes you happy but then stuff gets too expensive and stressful and you want to do something else so you close it, it’s a “failed” business. If you write a book or two, then decide that you don’t actually want to keep doing that, you’re a “failed” writer. If you marry someone, and that marriage is good for a while, and then stops working and you get divorced, it’s a “failed” marriage.

The only acceptable “win condition” is “you keep doing that thing forever”. A friendship that lasts for a few years but then its time is done and you move on is considered less valuable or not a “real” friendship. A hobby that you do for a while and then are done with is a “phase” - or, alternatively, a “pity” that you don’t do that thing any more. A fandom is “dying” because people have had a lot of fun with it but are now moving on to other things.

I just think that something can be good, and also end, and that thing was still good. And it’s okay to be sad that it ended, too. But the idea that anything that ends is automatically less than this hypothetical eternal state of success… I don’t think that’s doing us any good at all.

[systlin]

ooooo summarize the one where tarl gets called bosk by a mean lady and it rewrites his brain chemistry

Oh, Telima! The Mean Domme! LMAO it's so funny.

So Tarl is boating down the Big Fuckass River to Port Kar where a dude he wants to meet up with lives. Port Kar is a notorious hive of scum and villainy but has far fewer Han Solos to shoot douchebags in the face unfortunately.

We get like, ten pages of Tarl talking about how longbows are good at killing people, because duh of course they are. However, for some fuckass reason Goreans usually consider it a low class and disgraceful weapon, and Tarl is considered weird for liking it. I will give Norm credit for Tarl, raised an Englishman, having a favorable view of the longbow even in a society that views them as dishonorable. Reluctantly. Anyway.

He's in the Vosk delta, which is a vast labyrinth of swamp mostly covered in a reed called Rence, which is used to make paper and also parts are edible. It's inhabited by Rence Growers, who are actually kinda cool?

They make like, floating boat towns, and hunt and fish the marshes, and they take in fled slaves sometimes and let them live as free women. Like. They kinda rock actually?

Instead of any actual plot for a bit, we get like twenty pages here of Norm outlining Rence, how it grows, how it's harvested, how things are made from it, ect ect. This completely derails the story for a jarring length of time, and it will not be the last time such a thing happens. Norm loves his annoying and dumb infodumps.

Anyway, Tarl is in their territory, and happens upon a free woman fishing in the marshes. He is, predictably, what he thinks is polite but from her POV is intrusive and annoying, and her village takes him captive.

THEN we get to the wild shit.

 

A Sorp is a turtle, btw. And legit this is like, one of the 3 reasonable dudes we get on Gor. Ho Hak you're a king love you bro.

Champion shit.

ANYWAY.

This, in the hands of a better writer, could have been the moment when Tarl realized that, oh, shit, yeah okay in this situation he will act just like the women he's enslaved before who complied rather than be beaten or killed. It could have been a watershed moment.

It will not be.

ANYWAY, Tarl is taken slave, and Telima absolutely rearranges his whole brain with ONE SINGLE NIGHT OF BEING A MEAN DOMME.

He will go by this name FOR THE ENTIRE NEXT THIRTY BOOKS LIKE GIRL JESUS CHRIST.

He's chasing this high for the entire rest of the series. He never gets over this. Like holy shit. Fuck.

Anyway so some Port Kar slavers raid the place and take some people captive, whatever, there's not actually any plot in this book it's just here to get Tarl topped and get him to Port Kar. He fights the knowledge that he can be enslaved like he's enslaved women this whole time, and again somehow manages to do no actual growth or introspection. It's really incredible.

The only thing of note here is that there is a dude named Clitus, which is inexpressibly funny to me. I bet no one can find him.

Tarl becomes a Captain of Port Kar by killing one of the other Captains. There's like, a war with Cos and Tyros, which are also naval powers, and we are supposed to root for Port Kar but honestly I do not give a single shit. It's mostly so that Norm can jerk himself off to pictures of Greek war galleys and Charlton Heston as Ben Hur, tbh.

How TF Tarl knows without trying how to captain a war galley, you ask? And is somehow so good at it that all the other captains are in awe? Well because he's a Speshul Boy, of course.

Of course Tarl wins the war and shit, it's pointless, I don't give a single shit about Port Kar vs Cos Vs Tyros and I want Tarl dead.

Anyway, Tarl hooks up with Samos, but not the way Tarl would really like. Stupid PK vs Kurii plot shit is droned on about for like fifty pages. It's all stupid, the end.

[sunrisecaminus]

HIII, I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM, ITS SRSLY SO SCRUMPTIOUS? <333

I wanted to request bumblebee/ratchet/knockout/ megatron headcanons of them finding reader working on a lot of figurines and their vehicle models. I want to see how the bots would react? (Esp ratchet, I love that grumpy old man sm)

Message - DUDE JBVPAVHUBSVO! I wish I could write more, but this is all I could think of. Also awe thanks! Don't make me blush :3

Bumblebee/Knockout/Ratchet/Megatron x Reader Headcanons

Summary - Human makes their Cybertronians friend a figurine of their alt mode. All their reactions to you making them the cutest thing ever.

Warning - Cute

Bumblebee

When he finds your little workshop, watching you making a polished figurine of his car, he was fully supportive of it. He loved everything that you did and every time he saw you making your projects, Bee stays around and observes how you make the details. There is a cute joke you guys do by telling him to "freeze!!!" when he is in his alt mode. You take pictures of what he looks like to help yourself have references. Bumblebee would try so hard not to make any sound while you work, but if you ask him if he likes it…you would get loud excited beeping about how beautiful you made him. The fact he would keep every single one of them will show you how much he appreciates them. If someone told you that the figurines suck, Bumblebee would go wild and make sure that person never comes close to you again. It's funny how mad he gets to protect you, but honestly its very sweet.

Knockout

Now, Knockout would be the most obnoxious person about finding out about your skill. This man would kiss and snuggle you every day for the rest of your life after he knows. Need references? Just ask him and he would stay in his alt mode for long periods of time so you can have one you could actually look at in person. Do you understand how much this guy would adore you? Do you understand how much he adores HIMSELF?! Do you remember how in the show, Starscream would brag to everyone how he was the one to kill cliffjumper? YEAH THAT'S KNOCKOUT! "Did you know I am a hired model? My body is so beautiful, a master of sculpting is using it for their art projects~" He will say it every where. Starscream being annoying? Knockout brags about being a model. Arachnid being a threatening meanie? Knockout will say you were useful for showing off his sexy body in sculptures. Megatron mad at him for having an unsuccessful mission? "Well big M, at least today I am going to outshine everyone on this ship by getting a sculpture version of me." He is weirdly supportive of it…in his own way. Knockout would cherish everything you do and even help buy you better supplies to help you improve. Everyday he would see you working on one and you would just feel a little kiss on your head to feel his loving energy.

Ratchet

"What in the Allspark are you doing? I am not someone for you to just make a replica of!" Yeah Ratchet is very much flustered about the whole thing. You making a figurine of his alt mode was adorable though, seeing a miniature him was so embarrassing. What you secretly don't know is that he put the figures up on the desk he has so he can appreciate your crafts while working. Does he wish you would just stop? Yes. Is he going to tell you? No! He would never tell you to stop doing things you like, just please stop making sculptures of him. He would try to nit pick the figurine to make you think you didn't do good and that would make you not sculpt him anymore, but when he saw how upset you got, thinking you made him look ugly…yeah he broke. Now he just blushes and says it looks good whenever you show him your finished product. Not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy, but he would secretly buy you more materials online so you could continue your dreams and passions. He understands the feeling of being good at your job, and doesn't want to ruin that for you. If he heard someone talk crap about your projects, Ratchet might get suspended for medical malpractice later.

Megatron

OF COURSE THIS EGOTISTICAL WARLORD LIKES IT! He would put the damn thing next to his throne to look at it from time to time. "Make me another or I will use you for target practice!" Anyone who says you are bad at making figurines will DIE. Don't question the decapitated body in the corner, please don't even mention it. He would title you are an architect on his ship and give you a respectable salary if you keep making him stuff. It doesn't even have to be sculptures of him. Make him a model of the ship and he would use it as a 3d blueprint whenever he wants to upgrade something on the ship. "And you see here, this is where I want the new engines to be placed." Starscream thinks this shit is stupid. Will he ever tell Megatron? FRAG NO! You are now the lord's favorite and nothing will change that. He would sit you on the arm of his throne and pet you on the top of your head. You will never leave, you will never switch sides, and you will never be killed. Oh and his threats are fake, that man secretly loves you and would never lay a finger on you. He would send a figure to Optimus as a "look at what my soldiers do for me" type shit. Bro, you could tell him that someone ruined your project and he would literally walk around the ship with you on his shoulder, asking you to point out who. Even if it was Airachnid, nah, bye Airachnid! He would not care who it was, do not ruin his pet's MASTERPIECE!

[tootkin-goblin]

And people seems to think that you can just push through the executive disfunction and Be Disciplined about it. Mind over matter! You're the boss of your body!

And in my experience you can... sometimes. But it's traumatic. And the trauma makes it even harder to push through the next time, because the brain is veeeeery good at stopping you from hurting yourself. Ever tried to put your hand on a burning stove? Well it does the same for tasks that seems inconsequential but have been very stressful the last time. Stress is a very hurtful after all.

And so you push through, and it's stressful and traumatic, and the executive disfunction grows. But you're better than that! Mind over matter! You push through again! And again! And again!! Until your body find other ways to stop you. And you wake up one morning and you can't anymore. Your legs won't support you. Your arms stops moving. Your eyes stop seeing. In my case it was a full stop: I would fall asleep anytime I tried to do the task. Literally, consciousness blackout anytime I tried. I know some people who had it worse still.

I might be wrong and it might not be universal, but my experience of executive disfunction is very much one of self-preservation. Not always actually helpful, not always targeted at the right things, sometimes it seems to make no sense at all. But sometimes it's not the task itself, it's the possibility of not succeeding at the task and being punished for it. "I want to draw and I love drawing but I can't" makes a lot more sense when it's actually "I want to draw and share my drawings but the internet is a cold void and I don't know if I will get the comments and the sense of connexion I'm yearning for so the drawing must be perfect to reach other people or else I will be punished with more loneliness"

Burnout is a bitch. Executive disfunction is describing a symptom more than a cause but, at least to me, the cause is trauma.

people who dont experience it cannot comprehend how awful executive dysfunction is. I WANT to do the task, i have the resources TO do the task, i will feel better having DONE the task

but i cant fucking do the task

[evillama666]

“Taking it slow”

“Taking it slow”

Daryl Dixon x reader

When I think about Daryl being in a relationship, I think about how slow he’ll need to take things. I, for one, like taking things slow. Daryl is new to this, of course you're going to have to teach him things and be patient. As much as I love confident and cocky Daryl, it’s going to take him a minute to actually get there. There’s going to be lots of baby steps! 

Summary: Must I explain much? Slowly entering a relationship with Daryl and getting comfortable 

Tags: Fluff, baby steps, inexperienced, headcannons, cuddles!!! No specific era or season

Word count: 4765

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

You’ve known Daryl since Atlanta. Of course, you two have been through a lot together, so he’s grown to care about you. Like the way he cares about Carol but, maybe more. You’ve seen him grow as a person, and all he’s gone through. You’ve always been there for him for everything, even if he tried to push you away at times. You two have a very close relationship, but lately, it seems to have been getting closer. Daryl needs a deep emotional connection with someone before anything happens. He’s probably on the ace spectrum. It makes sense. He’ll fall for anyone, doesn’t matter who, as long as they appreciate him. He just needs to feel loved. He’s bi just doesn’t know it or acknowledged it. 

You had to reassure him you can go slow, like really slow. You’d happily teach him everything since he’s never done this before. Eventually, he reluctantly gave in. First step was touches. He wasn’t used to affectionate touches. Whenever you touched him, he flinched. There was clearly some trauma bubbling up, so you never pushed. Eventually he trusted your touch and stopped flinching, even began to crave it. However, he doesn’t enjoy being affectionate in front of the group. That’s something you can put up with. If you want this to work, you have to respect his boundaries or he’ll push you away. Sometimes he’ll casually put his hand on your shoulder, or graze your arm around the group to show his appreciation. 

It took a while for your first kiss, and another week for your second. Sex would take even longer, but that’s not on your mind right now. The first kiss, he was hesitant, unsure, but when your lips brushed against his, he melted and kissed you back. Of course, you had to make the first move. His touches were slow, shy, and a bit clumsy, and he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was a mess after that kiss. That’s why it took so long for the second. However, the second one felt much more natural. He put one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip to pull you in close. He even used some tongue. His touches were much more confident. He’s a fast learner, after all. You're not sure where he picked that up from, but you liked it. He doesn’t kiss you often though, he’s still getting used to it.

He needs lots of reassurance from you. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong or it’s not good enough. If you teach him something new or if he picks something up from you, like something you do to him, he’s very tentative and hesitant. He’ll gradually feel more comfortable after you reassure him he’s fine. This man cannot make the first move. Not yet anyway. He needs you to give him a sign that it’s fine. There’s a lot of little affectionate gestures he wants to show you, but he’s just too shy. He’ll get more comfortable as time goes on and touch you whenever without hesitation. (:  For now anyway, he’s fighting with himself a lot. 

He has a lot of thoughts about how he’s not good enough, not handsome enough, doesn’t deserve you, you can do better. Thoughts along those lines. Why do you think he needs so much reassurance? When you two first started getting closer, he had a lot of those thoughts, so he pushed you away, avoided you. Little did he know is you melt those thoughts when you're around. He feels most at ease around you. It’s like you clear his mind. Of course, you gave him his space at first, but eventually you had to be near him. That little push made him realize how nice it feels to be around you. However, if you push too hard, he’ll push you away. He’s like a scared puppy. He has to make his way to you. 

We all know Daryl is a man of action, not words. He won't say ‘I love you’ too often, not early on anyway, but he’ll show you. He’ll pick up little trinkets for you on runs, let you have the first serving of food, or pick up rocks that match the colour of your eyes. When he’s more comfortable with touches, he’ll always show you small acts of affection to make up for his lack of words. Lots of little kisses everywhere and soft touches. He’s only gentle with you.

(Present)

He’s sitting on a log by the fire eating alone while the rest of the group is either still asleep, or grabbing food. You come up behind him slowly so you don’t startle him, and kiss his shoulder as you step over the log and sit. He grunts in surprise before smiling just slightly. He’s been getting more comfortable with your touches. He didn’t even mind that the group was near for that one, not like anyone of that actually saw. “Mornin’.” He says in a gruff voice, swallowing his food. You’re sitting closer than usual. He shudders when your shoulder brushes his. “Morning!” You reply cheerfully. 

His face scrunches when you kiss the corner of his lips, thinking he won’t want a proper one just yet. You were mistaken. He glances at the group behind him before cupping your cheek and pressing a quick peck to your lips. He looks back down at his bowl like nothing happened. He’s sure the group has picked up what’s been going on between you two. You two have been sharing a tent, after all. Your eyes widen after that quick kiss. “You’ve been getting bold lately.” He must be feeling comfortable. He just shrugs, quietly eating. You notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at the group. “Worried about what the group will think?”

He looks back at you. His eyes say everything. You’ve gotten better at reading them since he’s so quiet. “How about we try something simple?” He thinks for a second, then nods. He’s been trying to work with you, push past his boundaries. Anything for you. He sighs contently when you lay your head on his shoulder. That’s something he can handle. He looks back and gets a small smile from Carol. Yea, she knows. She’s glad he found someone…. Or more like someone found him. 

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you eat. He’s always watching you, observing, trying to figure out how you work. Also… admiring you. He doesn’t get how such a pretty thang could fall for him. Why you're willing to go through so much to be with him. He usually has to push those thoughts away. When he finishes his food, he lays his head on top of yours. You both aren’t getting any looks from the group, so he’s willing to be affectionate right now. You set your food down, wanting to soak up this moment. You don’t get to many of these. “Are you going hunting again?”

“ ‘Course.” He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. You sigh softly, knowing this moment won’t last too long. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He holds you for a moment before he pulls away, standing up to go grab his crossbow. You look down at your food with a slight pout. You know he’s just trying to fend for the group, but he always spends the whole day hunting. He ruffles your hair before heading off to the woods, and you give him one last look.

Nighttime is your favourite with Daryl. He’ll come back, feeling exhausted from hunting, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle with you. He’ll be more affectionate since you two have the privacy of your tent. You tiredly lift your head when you hear the tent zipper. “Daaryl.” You say his name softly with affection. He hates the way his heart reacts each time you say his name like that. “Hey sw-” He cuts himself off before he lets ‘sweetheart’ slip. You wish he would just say it, but you’ll take what you’ll get. “How’d it go?” Daryl groans as he takes off his vest. He’s sore after a long day and can’t wait to cuddle with you. “Mmmh… Didn’t get shit, but set up some traps.” He huffs as he collapses on the pile of blankets on the tent floor. His eyes close as you run your fingers through your hair. This is when he lets you touch him. Let’s you push past his borders and boundaries. This is the time for you to test new things. Push him just a little. His eyes open when he hears you giggle after you boop his nose. There’s a small smile on his lips. “Enjoying yaself?” You scooch closer and nod. “Uh-huh.” He leans into your hand as you rub his hair. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s clingy. You might get a few shy kisses from him, but you're usually doing all the work. Not that you mind, this man needs all the affection in the world. He sinks into the blankets as he unwinds from the day. “Ready for bed, Daryl?”

“More first.” He mumbles, enjoying the way you play with his hair. He’s never loud, but you can hear a few pleased sighs and content hums from him. He groans as your hand moves from his hair down to his shoulder, rubbing his taut muscles. “Damn…” He groans out. He didn’t think this would be so nice. His mind has always been focused on survival. He never stopped to consider the perks of a relationship. If he knew you’d do this for him every night, he would have probably been with you a lot sooner. “You like that?” 

“Hell yea.” His voice is barely audible. This man is in pure bliss right now. You need nothing more to be perfectly happy with him. It brings you such satisfaction to get him like this. He doesn’t even realize how vulnerable he is. That thought didn’t cross his mind. All he knows is how warm and safe you make him feel. Feeling a bit bold, you move your hand down to his chest.

His eyes open and he grabs your wrist, before seeing your look of surprise. He holds it for a second before letting go. Sometimes you’ll get something like that when you cross a boundary he’s not ready for. So, doing something you know he’s comfortable with, you bring your hand to his cheek, stroking your thumb over his goatee. His eyes close once he relaxes again. His head sinks against his pillow as he sighs.

You love the soft little sounds you're able to pull out of him. It’s a sign that you're doing something good. These are the times he’s most relaxed. When you're showing him affection. It’s easiest to read him when he’s vulnerable. Figure out what he likes, what he doesn't. Which isn’t much since he loves all the affection you give him. That’s what he needed in his life.

He grabs your wrist again, making you feel you did something wrong. Your brows furrow when he pushes himself up, then leans over you. “How do I…?” Oh, he wants to reciprocate. He hasn’t really done that. This must be growth. “Just do what feels natural.” He just looks at you, waiting for you to give him some more direct directions. “Uh… start with kisses. Kiss me wherever you’d like.” His eyes roam over your face and neck as he nods. He lowers his head, his lips just above yours, then he hesitates. You don’t close the gap, not wanting to push him. You want him to be able to make his way to you. He swallows thickly before tentatively pressing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss back until he does. For such a rough man, he has the softens lips you've ever kissed. 

He’s using this kiss to memorise your lips. All his other kisses were usually quick and shy. He never really felt your lips. After a good minute he sighs heavily against your lips as he pulls away. Then he moves his face down to your neck. He keeps his head buried there, enjoying your soft warm skin before he finds your pulse point and kisses it, since it's most vulnerable. It’s his way of showing you’re safe with him. One of your hands makes it to his hair. It’s gotten so long, it’s easy to tangle your fingers in it.

His hair is one of his favourite places to be touched. Why do you think he grew it out? You ruffled it once, back when it was short and he was hooked. He trails a couple of kisses down your throat before lifting his head for reassurance. He’s always asking for reassurance from you. He wants to be doing all of this right. You brush his hair out of his face. “That’s good, that’s good. Feels nice.” Your voice is breathless. He must be doing a damn good job if he was able to get you to sound like that. 

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He’s treating your skin so delicately. He hits a few sensitive spots that make you pull his hair. So those are the sweet spots? Duly noted. Now Daryl knows where to focus. You don’t know what this is leading to, if anything. Either way, you're happy. This is the most expressive Daryl has been since the two of you have gotten closer. His kisses are slow and soft, trying to make up for all the affection he hasn’t shown you yet.

Then he slowly lowers his weight on your chest, making sure not to crush you, and just lays there. There’s a lot going through his mind, there always is. You’re happily playing with his hair. His weight on your chest is soothing. It seems like he needs a minute, so you’re giving him all the time he needs. You don’t press, just leave him be. It must be a lot for him, but you're proud he pushed himself. You press a little kiss to his hair as a way to tell him he did good. You two have a way of communicating in silence. 

His brows furrow as he struggles with his thoughts. Is he doing this right? Why is it so difficult for him? He cares about you. Cares about you deeply, but it’s just so hard for him to get himself to show you. His thoughts get interrupted as you ruffle his hair. It’s like you’re directly scratching those thoughts away. He must be doing ok since you’ve never complained. 

He nuzzles his face into your chest. It’s the warmest part of you, so he loves it. That and your thighs. He loves laying his head in your lap, having his hair played with as you talk about your day. “Sleepy?” You ask quietly. He just grunts in response. Yea, he’s tired, but if he goes to bed, that means no more kisses. He tugs on your shirt like a child, silently asking for more. You happily give them to him, placing kisses all over the top of his head. He’s trying hard not to doze off. He craves more, but the warmth is getting to him. 

You lightly nudge his shoulder to see if he fell asleep. Apparently not, as he lifts his head with a small grunt. “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.” He huffs at that idea as he lowers his head. “Don’ wanna.” Wow, he sounded like a whiny child. You brush his hair back, trying to get him to look at you again. “Why not?” You're always trying to get Daryl to communicate. Even if it’s not vocal. Sometimes if he wants a kiss, he’ll nudge you or lay his head on your shoulder until you do something. Those moments are so cute.

He’s reluctant to speak. He’s not good and not used to voicing what he wants. “Wan- need more.” You laugh softly. Just a few words are good enough. You cup his cheek in your hand as you kiss all over his face. His face scrunches and he sucks in a breath before relaxing. And look at that, his cheeks are pink. Daryl loves and hates all the tingles your kisses leave behind. He never thought they could do that. He thought a kiss was a kiss, but you’ve taught him they're so much more than that. He lays his head back on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It’s one of his favourite sounds. Your heartbeat, laughs and giggles, your breaths when you sleep, and the way your voice gets when you're excited or talking about something you're passionate about. 

Once he heard your voice get like that when you were talking about him to Carol. That’s when he figured you must truly have feelings for him. You’ve never once faked that voice. Thinking back, there were a lot of signs he missed. Maybe you didn't realize, or maybe you needed to take your time before you told him. Either way, he knows you’ve cared for him for a damn long time. 

He slowly untangles himself from you. Your hand lingers in his hair as you watch him pull away. Then his hands drop to his belt. Assuming he’s just taking it off for bed, you close your eyes and cuddle up with a blanket. He’s never taken his jeans off to sleep, even though you’ve told him to because, let’s be real, sleeping in jeans is uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not comfortable yet to let you see him like that. Your eyes snap open when you hear his fly. Damn, maybe tonight’s different. You catch a glimpse of the bulge in his boxers before forcing yourself to look away to give him some privacy. This is the first time he’s done this. Don’t ruin it by ogling him like a perv.

He slips under the blanket with you, cuddling your back, wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a small kiss on your shoulder before closing his eyes. “Night.” You glance at him as he settles against his pillow. “G’night handsome.” A small breath of amusement passes his nose. You’ve been slowly easing into calling him pet names. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he falls asleep.

The longer you slept with Daryl, the fewer nightmares he had. Of course, one will pop up once in a while, but mostly, his nights are peaceful with you. He loves using you as a pillow or holding you to his chest, using your weight for deep pressure therapy. It helps with nightmares. The warmth from your body is his favourite. Sleeping in a tent, the nights get cold, so he likes to snuggle close. He likes to think he’s doing this to keep you warm, but he’s doing it for his own comfort.

The first couple times he slept with you, he’d get up with the sun and leave, going on about his normal routine. One morning he slept in later than he wanted but didn't mind after he watched you wake up. You were so cute, all groggy, clinging to him, still pretty out of it, and so natural. But what he really liked? Your morning voice. It was so soft, softer than usual. Now he’s heard you use a soft voice with him before but this felt different. He ended up starting his day a lot later because he enjoyed watching you be all disoriented as you woke. He found it so interesting. He thought you were so beautiful at that moment. Like you were unreal. 

The first night you invited him to sleep over at your tent, he didn't cuddle. Sure, he let you touch him a little, but he kept to himself as he fell asleep. You tried to get him closer but he kept his distance. All your little touches were still new for him so cuddles would’ve been too overwhelming. However he slowly made his way to you. That’s how it works. You need to let him make his way to you. Let him take his time. 

He always wakes up before you. He’s just used to waking up early. Waking up before you, he’s always greeted with your sleeping form. He gets to see you at peak vulnerability. When you wake up, he’s sitting beside you, quietly watching with a soft gaze. He’s already got his jeans and vest back on. He watches as you blink rapidly to clear the blurriness. Now he’s waiting for you to see him and cuddle close. He’s memorised the way you work each morning. And there it is, you're grabbing him, trying to pull him down, so he’s laying with you. He happily complies. 

He brushes your hair out of your face, then glances at your lips. Is this the right time to kiss you? Should he wait until you’re fully awake? He doesn’t know. He wants you to engage first. That way, he knows you actually want it. He’s always afraid of crossing a boundary. Fuck it. He’s going to go for it. You’ll tell him if you didn’t like it right? You're so much better at communicating than him.  He pushes his lips against yours, lingering for a moment, before pulling away. The happy hum he got from you makes him feel better. He’s considering a way to push himself a little further, but not entirely, so he’s not out of his comfort zone. Soooo... “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your eyes light up when he finally calls you that. He’s been wanting to for a while, he was just too shy. “Good morning, handsome!” Your excited demeanour makes him chuckle. Ok, so you like that. He’ll call you that more just to see you react like that. He runs his hand through your hair, trying to smooth it out. “Ya lookin’ a lil’ messy.” A small pout forms on your lips then you get an idea. “Would you like to brush it?”

His hand falters. That’s a very intimate act for him… but it seems easy enough. That’s something that can ease him into something more. He nods once with a grunt. You sit up, grabbing your brush, then sit in front of him. He hesitates as he looks at your hair. It’s messy, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s rough with his hair on the rare occasion when he brushes it, but he knows he can’t be like that with you. You look over your shoulder when he doesn’t start brushing. “I’ll let you know if you pull.” He sighs as he brushes the ends of your hair. He’s brushing slowly, being extra mindful not to hurt you. “How’s tha’?” 

You close your eyes. You can feel how careful he’s being. “You’re doing good.” While brushing your hair, he only snags a couple times, but it’s not enough to really hurt you. Still, he feels like shit. “You’ll get better the more you do it.” He pauses. You’ll let him brush your hair more? He… really likes that idea. He runs his fingers through your hair, making sure he didn’t miss any knots. Then he tries something you always do to him. He lightly scritches your head, drawing giggles from him. “Haha, Daryl!” You laugh, leaning back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you. He’s learned the way you play with his hair, so he has some idea about how he’s supposed to do it. He presses his head against your shoulder, leaving little kisses. He’s observing your reactions, seeing what makes you react how. See, he’s learning. “I’m not goin’ huntin’ today.”

“Why-” You get cut off as he pulls you down with him. “Oh.” You laugh, cuddling up with him. Today, he wants to focus on getting closer with you, learning about you, and feeling more comfortable with you. He’s never going to get any better at affection if he doesn't try it. He compares it to hunting. There’s a lot to learn, a lot of patience, but if he practices then it’ll become second nature. He’s only really affectionate with you at night, and that doesn't last too long because you both end up falling asleep. When you wrap a leg around his waist, he tenses. He wasn't expecting the gush of warmth that would come with that. A second later, he relaxes, holding you close. “C- can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” You’ve told him that a couple times before, but he still asks. Though if you keep telling him, he’ll slowly learn. Just reassure the baby. It’s all he needs. He presses kisses to your shoulder, making his way up to your neck. Soft little grumbles and sighs can be heard from him. He’s never let his hands wander, he’s just been too much of a sweetheart for that, but today he’s feeling bold. His hand moves down to your waist, gliding over your curves, then rests on your hip. He likes the way your body feels. It’s perfect. It’s so soft to touch. He’s not used to feeling something like that. His fingers squeeze just slightly, not wanting to be rough. 

Never feeling him touch you like that before, makes you feel those nice tingles. So, you snuggle closer, trying to encourage him to keep going. It takes him a second to realize what you want before running his hand up and down your side. The baby boy is learning! His movements are stiff at first before becoming more natural. He’s giving into the feelings you make him feel. You're soaking up every touch. It's the first he’s really ever done this. “Am I… doin’ ok?” He asks nervously. You sigh happily. As much as you love showing him affection, it’s nice to have some in return. “You’re doing more than ok.” Daryl's eyes gaze over your face and body language, trying to get a read on you. You’re really not that hard to read. You’re basically melting under him. He has to bite back a smile. He can’t believe he’s actually making you react like this. Do you know how good that makes him feel? Knowing he has an effect on you? He’ll be using that against you when he’s more comfortable. 

You mess with his hair as his hands roam from your sides to your tummy. He’s trying to memorise how you feel. He closes his eyes and buries his face in your neck, so he’s solely focused on the way you feel. He’s very bold this morning. He’s never this brave when he touches you. Once he feels like he let his hands roam for long enough, he takes a peek at your face. You look peaceful. He got you like that, huh? That makes him feel a sense of accomplishment. 

He flinches back when you suddenly bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. His facial muscles relax when he realizes you didn’t mean any harm. He’s gazing at you tenderly. His eyes always give him away. And when he closes them, that means he’s feeling comfortable. It’s his way of lowering his guard. He lets out a low groan as you ruffle his hair. That always makes him melt. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm while he makes eye contact. 

The fucking BUTTERFLIES, this man just made you feel. He knew what he was doing. When he’s confident with his touches it’s going to be fucking over for you. He chuckles slowly as your cheeks flush and you try to hide your face with your hands. He grabs both of your wrists, holding them firmly to his chest. “Ah, ah, girl.” You meet his eyes. He loves the pink flush to your cheeks. Sure, he’s gotten you to blush a few times, but never like that. He hides his smile by resting his head on top of yours. He sighs contently as he wraps his arms around you. His thumbs are tracing little patterns on your back. 

You close your eyes as you relax, giving into his embrace. His big strong arms are perfect for wrapping around you and holding you close. Have you seen his arms? They’re perfect for this. His grip is tight and secure, shielding you from the world. It’s his way of showing he’s protective of you. He likes to keep you close to his chest. That’s where his heart is after all. 

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Soooooo, this turned out to be a lot more fluff than I was originally going to write but who’s complaining?

[suzukiblu]

welp I remain INCREDIBLY weak to positive reinforcement, haha, so day two of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim takes the obvious opportunity that Bernard chattering and Kon being a little bit dumbstruck gives him–because like, of fucking course he does, he’s a Bat–and offers Kon the caramel-dipped waffle quarter again, and Kon, like . . . okay, well fucking obviously he’s gonna eat it, Bernard made the damn caramel from scratch and Tim is offering it to him. Like, there is not a world in which he does not eat that. 

He takes a bite, mostly distracted by what Bernard’s going on about with whipped cream and hand mixers and whatever and idly having some related kinky thoughts because, like, in his defense, whipped cream, and then forgets completely about what Bernard’s going on about with . . . whatever Bernard’s going on about. 

“Oh my god what did you put in this,” Kon blurts, half-covering his mouth with a hand before he accidentally spits out any waffle crumbs and staring at Bernard for a moment. Like, the waffle is warm and basically the perfect mix between outside crunch and inside fluff, but also it tastes like–what the fuck is in this, seriously, is there sex pollen in this or something? 

“Oh, it’s actually basically my banana bread recipe, so . . . banana? Like a significant amount of banana, and then some sour cream, and a little cinnamon, brown sugar, and vanilla,” Bernard ticks off, gesturing with a waffle chunk of his own before spooning some whipped cream onto it, because Bernard apparently just made . . . everything on this breakfast tray from scratch, okay. Like . . . yeah. Okay then. “And also there’s some chocolate chips and chopped pecans in there, because like, literally what is not better with chocolate, seriously. Admittedly I don’t actually know how good it is with peaches, haven’t tried that one before, but I figure at least the caramel should be good.” 

Kon stares blankly at the dude and resists the instinctive marriage proposal currently warring with his natural “kept boy” instincts, then takes another bite of waffle when Tim offers it. It keeps tasting, like, fucking delicious, and also now he can break down “fucking delicious” in a little bit more detail than, like . . . just “fucking delicious”, basically. 

. . . will Ma kill him if he asks another cook for their waffle recipe? Is that a thing he might have to worry about? 

. . . . . . could be worth it, honestly. And she might let him live if he shares. 

“Do you, like, cook a lot, or . . . ?” he asks, half-trailing off when Tim feeds him more fucking deliciousness, which is in his defense pretty distracting. Like–Jesus, how did Bernard get an alleged banana bread recipe to make waffles this fluffy? Like, what fucking witchcraft was involved in that one? 

“Constantly and all the time and nowhere near as much as I wanna, so honestly the excuse to make an extra sauce was kinda nice, not gonna lie, it’s very relaxing,” Bernard replies frankly, stacking up some banana slices on his waffle chunk and then making himself a little waffle sandwich to stuff into his mouth effectively whole. The little waffle sandwich is weirdly adorable. Like, to the degree Kon would probably find it adorable even if he weren’t high on pink kryptonite right now, but like, maybe that’s the banana bread waffles’ fault. “Well, actually caramel is low-key the devil because you cannot ever take your eyes off it ever without it burning to shit and ruining your godsdamn pot, but it’s not like I didn’t have time to baby it so it’s whatever. Why, do you cook?” 

“Um . . . naw, just I help, um . . . well, there’s, like–I help bake, a little?” Kon replies hesitantly. Which, like, is mostly just him fetching shit and kneading stuff for Ma so her arthritis doesn’t act up as a dumb little excuse to, like, hang around the kitchen and living room area when she and Pa are talking, sometimes, but . . . technically it counts, he guesses? Like, technically? 

Bernard perks up, like–instantly, and to a really surprising amount, which is a little weird, and Kon isn’t sure what that’s about. 

“Oh, so the most evil culinary art then, wow,” Bernard says, sounding impressed. Which is definitely not what he is actually is, unless Kon has somehow given him a very incorrect impression of his baking skills, but still feels a little flustering to hear in relation to, like, something besides being good in bed. Like, just given the nature of this particular long weekend and all. 

“Uh–what?” Kon asks, trying to figure out what Bernard’s actually talking about here, and Bernard starts making himself another little banana/whipped cream waffle sandwich with an easy little shrug. 

“You know, like how the first rule of cooking is have fun and be yourself and the first rule of baking is stay calm because the dough can smell fear, is what I mean,” he replies reasonably. 

“I mean it’s not that hard, honestly, I can kinda like, just feel when it’s baked enough without having to check, so . . .” Kon shrugs himself, feeling a little awkward about it. Like–it’s kinda cheaty, honestly. “Or like, proofed or whatever.” 

“I hate you, come work at the restaurant I’m gonna open when I’m thirty-two, you can make all our bread in-house,” Bernard says very feelingly, and Kon forgets the awkward feeling to start snickering, because this dude is ridiculous, and still funny as fuck on top of that. 

“I literally just help out, man,” he says. “I am at best the actual baker’s errand boy.” 

“You just told me you can feel when the bread’s risen enough, you bastard, I am gonna press-gang you into this restaurant if I have to,” Bernard retorts huffily, then pauses, looks speculative, and asks: “Does that work on souffle, actually?” 

“I mean, I guess it would?” Kon replies with a frown, tilting his head a little. “Never tried, but–” 

“Hey Tim, I’m press-ganging your boy onto the line, good news, you won’t have to deal with me ranting about how much I hate my pastry chef every morning over coffee when we’re thirty-two,” Bernard informs Tim casually, and Tim’s mouth quirks in amusement and Kon just laughs helplessly again. 

“Oh my god, Bernard, I am the last person you wanna get to make pastry, much less restaurant pastry,” he says, still laughing. 

“I don’t know, your presentation skills would be pretty good, I’d think,” Tim says reasonably, which totally derails Kon’s cracking up. “You’re pretty artistic when you want to be. And definitely creative, and good with your hands on top of that.” 

Kon feels briefly startled–like, startled enough to not even make a sex joke about the “good with your hands” comment–because he like . . . basically never does anything that’d really count as “artistic”, as far as he’s concerned, and he’s really only “creative” in terms of coming up with creative new ways to curbstomp bad guys or whatever, not . . . 

He bites the rest of the waffle quarter out of Tim’s hand, mostly to give himself a second to process all the weird things he’s feeling about Tim saying something like that, and then has some more weird feelings when Tim swipes the pad of his thumb across the corner of his mouth to get up a smudge of caramel and then taps it lightly against Kon’s mouth to like . . . invite or offer, maybe, Kon’s not sure which. 

Though like, obviously he licks it clean either way. 

“Ohhhhh, hey, so how delicate does the TTK get?” Bernard asks, his eyes gleaming. 

“Uh–I mean, borderline atomic-level, depending?” Kon replies, a little bewildered still. “But like, that’s kinda an adrenaline-fueled apocalyptic sitch kinda thing, so mostly just . . . I dunno, tweezers? Mini-screwdriver? Somewhere in there?” 

“Okay, so when every single fine dining establishment in Gotham tries to poach you from me, I need you to remember how much you liked my dick when you were gay and pay that favor back by not accepting their disgusting amounts of money and prestige,” Bernard says, and Kon can’t help laughing again, or feeling, like–kind of warm, again. Like, kind of in the horny way, but also kinda . . . not, maybe. 

Seriously, it’s so weird how much hanging out with Bernard feels like getting a crush on a girl he’s just met. Like–very, very much so. Increasingly so, at this point. 

“I dunno, man, unless your fine dining establishment has a pink K chandelier . . .” he counters teasingly, and Bernard looks straight-up delighted by that idea. 

“Ooo, I bet that lighting would be sick, very romantic ambiance for the customer base,” he says with a grin. “What do you think, I could do my supervillain career in Metropolis and then retire to Gotham with all my ill-gotten gains and invest in a chandelier or twelve. You totally wanna get fucked after-hours on my prep counter under flattering rosy lighting, right?” 

“Come on, man, I look good in any lighting,” Kon scoffs, making a show of preening. “Or on any counter, as a matter of fact.” 

“Valid,” Bernard agrees with a sage nod, and Kon feels an irrational level of heat in his face but grins at him again anyway. Like–whatever, it’s the kryptonite; doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the ride. 

“Yeah, I’m sure the health department would love that, you two,” Tim says wryly, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement. 

“Oh my god, Tim, like we wouldn’t clean up after,” Bernard huffs, making a show of rolling his eyes. “Like I don’t know basic food safety standards. But fiiiiine, I’ll put in a special counter just for fucking your boy on when I’m doing the initial remodel, would that make you feel better?” 

“You designing your future professional kitchen with a specific place reserved to have sex with my best friend in it?” Tim asks, tilting his head slightly with a briefly speculative expression. 

“Yes, obviously,” Bernard says. 

“If you made sure the security cameras’d have a good view, I guess,” Tim allows. 

“Why would I need to, look at him, the cameras will be magnetically attracted to him,” Bernard scoffs, and Kon feels sort of–flustered, maybe, and flushed, and kinda–flattered, almost? Just . . . something about that particular sex fantasy is . . . 

Like, it’s just–it's still just a jokey fantasy, yeah, but it's one that sounds like, like . . . like an actual plan would, almost. Like, obviously still just a joke, but . . . he doesn’t know, just a more flattering joke, somehow. Kinda. Also, if he’s really thinking about it . . . well, obviously there’s sex in it, but it’s really less a sex fantasy than it is just, like . . . 

Well. Just . . . a fantasy, he guesses. Like . . . like they’ll all just still know each other in their thirties and know each other well enough to wanna hang out that much and . . . 

Just–yeah. So it’s a little more flattering, kinda. Like, as a fantasy and all. 

It is also making it real fuckin’ hard to concentrate on breakfast, under the circumstances. 

Tim offers him another slice of peach, and Kon bites his lip and glances up at his face again. 

“Rob, man, yours is gonna get cold,” he points out. 

“Really not worried about it,” Tim says, which is sort of hard to argue with, but like . . . 

“But–” Kon starts reflexively, and Tim taps the peach slice against his lower lip. 

“Eat your breakfast like a good boy, and I'll give you something good while I eat mine,” he says, and Kon’s brain fritzes out completely and his gut goes absolutely molten. “Open up.” 

Kon doesn’t even take a moment to actually say anything or even nod, just immediately opens his mouth. 

Tim smiles down at him soft enough to really fry his brain and sets the peach slice on his tongue. There’s some caramel sauce on it, and Kon flashes back to Tim doing the same thing to him with the candy with his own damn come on it and kind of, like, spontaneously combusts or explodes into a supernova or just melts down into caramel himself. 

Tim taps his mouth shut with two fingers under his jaw, and Kon just about fucking swoons over it. 

So–yeah, he is definitely not gonna be arguing about the temperature of anybody’s breakfast right now.

[flightfoot]

Okay so NORMALLY when a character's being crushed by grief like Mark is, their emotional arc centers around them accepting that the person they're missing is gone, and learning to live life again despite that. Normally the writers don't give that person back, because most of the time when someone's gone in real life, they're not coming back. Unfortunately, this does lead to a lot of fridged wives who only exist to be plot devices for their widower husbands.

And I thought that was going to be the case with Gemma as well! But then season 2, episode 7 happened and... there's no way they can do that plot now. The "accepting grief and moving on" plot doesn't work when the character who's being grieved over is a fully fleshed out character in her own right who we're supposed to care about for her own sake, and who's very much alive and actively trying to claw her way out of hell. ESPECIALLY when her captors are using the lie of "your husband's moved on and has a new wife and a kid now" to try and break her.

Instead, I think the "Mark grieving" plot, the message that the show's going for, ties back to Severance itself. He used the procedure to try and make a version of himself that could escape the pain of Gemma's death for part of the day. But as Petey told him, it didn't actually make the pain of her death vanish completely, it just meant he couldn't identify the cause. And because he was severed, he wasn't able to recognize when his wife was right in front of him.

Lumon appears to be using Gemma to try and make a version of the Severance chip that switches an Innie on whenever you are having an unpleasant experience, so you can force that onto someone else. I'm guessing the message with Mark is that hiding from the unpleasant parts of life is the wrong way to go about things, and that it's better to fully experience and remember all of it, the good and the bad.

The important part of Mark's grievance character arc isn't that he necessarily gets over his grief and moves on from it, it's that he accepts the negative, unpleasant emotions and continues moving forwards despite them, instead of trying to escape them.

[girl-lostconnection]

I'm so sorry you have to deal with people being so demanding, and I hope that they actually listen to your post and stop, cause it's just really rude in general.

On the other hand, I, for some reason, keep thinking about your story of reader dying and the 141 grieving and how, for me personally, when it comes to one of my loved ones, no matter how much time passes, I just can't stop thinking about them, craving their love, the way that they loved, and how you can see the similarities in others but it isn't quite right, it still doesn't feel the same, and you're just never left satisfied when you want their love again and no one else can do that, because it's not them. You're still loved, yes, but it's not the same.

Idk. I just was thinking about that and was wondering if that's what they might feel. They still have each other and love each other, but I wonder if there are times when they want or feel like they need it to be like reader's way to feel better on some days, where little things that upset them were originally made better by something reader did, but now that they're gone they're just left with that feeling to simmer.

You know one of the things I had to learn while dealing with grief — it doesn’t become smaller. You just get bigger, you get more experiences the older you get and all of that grief is still there. But grief is just what is left of your love for the person who is no longer there.

I think for them it would manifest differently but I can definitely see Johnny trying his best to keep going because he knows he has three more partners and they have to keep going and they have to keep living. Because Reader wouldn’t be happy with them just ending it all, because there is so much more time left, so many things they haven’t done. I think for him it would be one of the things that would eventually result in early retirement. He already lost a quarter of his heart when he lost Reader, he doesn’t want it happening again. And as much as he loves being demolitions expert, he knows there is a different type of life out there. One that can give him and his partners stability and safety.

I think Johnny would be the person that despite it all still sometimes talks about Reader like they are still there. He mentions references to movies and music and books, he draws them in his sketchbooks, he mentions that “this is the dessert they always wanted to try”. With time it turns into a warm kind of nostalgia, the love that he carries with him, his grief manifesting in trying to compensate for everything Reader wouldn’t experience by living through it himself. And by living on. When his time comes he hopes to see Reader again and say “see? I did well, didnae i? It was a good life. A long life, like you wanted. Bet you are proud of me”

Like i mentioned before Kyle took it in one of the worst hits, he’d keep holding onto Reader’s clothes and mementos as long as he can. He googles obsessively brands of clothes, he finds exactly the same articles because even if these get ruined or good forbid someone throws them out — he will know what to order. It won’t be the same, but he could pretend that it is. He already pretends that he’s alright, he already pretends that the hoodies he’s wearing with Reader’s name and rank are just part of his standard uniform.

I feel like Kyle is a person who has never experienced a loss this big before. He never lost someone who was this close, someone who’s still in his head, someone whose voice he keeps hearing when he talks to himself. Kyle likes to imagine that Reader never passes on. That they are still there, maybe noncorporeal, maybe he can’t see them, but at this point he’d settle for anything.

I think Kyle was never one for religion but whenever he passes church he’d get in to light a candle and say a quick not even a prayer but sort of a wish. Like that’s the only way he can chat with you, like something holy could really pass his “I’m okay, love, I’m eating well. Last mission was shite, but you know how it is. You no longer come to me when i dream. Are you upset, baby? I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time, i know you don’t like me getting injured. Just please, come back. I can’t sleep well without you.”

Simon would probably have the hardest times adjusting to the absence of Reader, because he takes the longest time to accept their death. He tries so hard to pull away from the moment where he would need to actually process the notion that it finds him itself and hits him with the force of minivan.

There is aching that he can’t relief, there is itch he can scratch — there is a person who he could tell any of his jokes and who’d not just joke in return but laugh at it and this person is gone. They are not coming back, he can’t even find them somewhere to watch out of the shadows, he can’t stalk them.

Losing people like that is always the hardest because with living people you at least can call/text/send a letter with a carrier pigeon. You can come back and open old wounds, you can pick up the fight, you can look them in the eyes and get some closure. Simon is not getting any. He fights every step of the way, he drags his feet. He’s easily agitated, he feels like hitting his head on the wall every time something stabs him from inside reminding that you are gone.

He comes up with a joke and yeah, of course he can tell it to anyone out of 141, but he wants to tell it to Reader. He wants to tell it to them specifically because they’d have a funny response which they’d choke out of themselves by laughing so hard he actually starts laughing. He misses it. He misses them. He misses their smell, the feel of them, the way he could talk to them and they would just get him so well like no one else would. He doesn’t just lose a partner when Reader dies — he loses a friend.

Price is…Price is complicated. He’s one to bottle it all up and throw it so deep down it may never come up other in his subconscious habits. He makes tea for five people and not four, he shops for five, he still buys the snacks Reader liked, he starts planning celebration for their birthday just on the back of his mind until he catches himself doing it and just forces it all down deeper.

Price would be a high functioning alcoholic in his grief, but still an alcoholic. He drinks a little more than he should, he forces down a drink he’d previously wouldn’t because he knows his limits. But it burns and it numbs and for a few hours he can breathe again. Alcohol allows himself to loosen a lid on everything he feels, it puts safe distance between his feeling and him and he actually allows himself to process some of them.

He cries, he ruins his office, he punches through the wall, he routinely throws up. Once he gets so drunk he actually starts having hallucinations, intoxication so severe he almost chokes on his own vomit. Soap finds him just in time to get him help. After this he gets out on suicide watch for 72 hours and the team would start actually guard him in shifts.

Price still drinks but now next to him there is always someone who also remembers his limits and doesn’t let him overstep them. John hates it at times. He hates himself much more though. He hates Reader sometimes too, because that’s not fair that they are gone. Because look what a fucking mess he is, love, bloody disgrace to drink himself under the fucking table.

Price has the fastest adjustment to Reader staying deceased but at the same time he can’t fully process his grief. Part of him is scared that he will drive himself mad if he does, another part just doesn’t want to. It’s stubborn and unhealthy but so what. He’s a captain, he lost soldiers before, he’s gonna deal with it this way.

But i think he’s also the second person who retires straight after Soap because he finds a new almost obsessively-desperate purpose in keeping his boys alive and well. He may be a fucked up man but his boys already lost one of their own, he doesn’t want to drag them through his death as well

[liridus]

It's actually really important to me that one of Sayaka's breaking points was her overhearing men being sexist and gross before absolutely losing it. Because it further emphasizes that Sayaka's main tragedy is not a boy not falling in love with her.

I think you can start applying this to Sayaka's character from when Mami first warns her to be cautious. What Mami tells her about think of why she's making her wish, I think it still applies, but not as her wanting Kyosuke to love her. I think Sayaka wanted to do good for others, but at the end of the day she wanted something out of that, primarily justice, change, a chance to make things better.

Her main tragedy is trying her absolute best to care for people, to be righteous, to use the powers given to her, to carve a better world; but to be given nothing in return. No reward, no foreseeable better future. Just suffering. And her eyes open to the suffering of others just for her to not be able to do anything about. Again and again and again.

And she tries to do this selflessly, like Mami indirectly told her to. To be fine with her efforts not being recognized, to be fine with people finding happiness without her, to be fine with people not respecting her right to make her own decisions. But at the end of the day that doesn't work and it tears her apart.

She wants to do something for the world, and risks her life to do it, the only thing she gets in return is her bodily autonomy being taken away. She's turned into a husk of a soldier without fully knowing what's going on. She's not even the best soldier (like her best friend could be), an average one. And she still tries to use that to keep fighting, because it has to be for a reason. It has to mean something. Because she's essentially given up everything, it has to mean something. It has to help her reach her goals in some way. Right?

It's not just a messed up way to cage her in a system that forces her to add onto the injustice she's fighting against. Right? Right?

(Maybe she calls herself stupid because she thinks she's stupid for trying to change things, for believing that things are capable of change)

[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

[lightlycareless]

the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

“Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

…

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness—jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on��less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to.  You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really…  but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

 “Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!”  you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

[sunsbaby]

❝ de. i think i'm stuck... ❞

❝ sam will you help me! gosh... ❞

⋆ dean w. & sam w. x photographer .ᐟ reader

ever since you began hunting with the boys, their life went in a new direction. they found themselves appreciating the little things a bit more—such as taking photos, just on their phones and not a huge camera. sam had taken more of an interest than dean, following you around and secretly 'learning' from you. dean, however, he didn't care for it, but somehow he always took the best photos. albeit some are rather embarrassing, like you with pie all over your face, but they were fond memories and a way for him to relive the moment again.

"biride, hurry up. we don't have all day." dean groaned, his head falling back as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

sam stood on the side-lines, too busy in whatever lore he was reading to focus on the important matter at hand—important in your words. there was a beautiful bird high up in a tree, one that you had to climb in order to get close enough; that's how you ended up perched on a branch, camera held tightly in your grasp as you shot a look down towards dean.

"de, do not distract me or so help me god i will break this camera on your head!" you threatened in a hushed whisper as to not scare away the creature in front of you. "and you will buy me a new one."

"yea right, birdie. you won't do anything, and i'm not buying you anything." dean teased, sam let out a sigh—he gave dean 'the look.'

somehow sam thought this was the perfect moment to take a picture of, their birdie trying to take a photo of a bird. he let out a chuckle as his finger pressed the button on his phone, a snapping sound echoed through the trees when you both clicked a button at the same time. the bird flew away, but you were successful. celebrating your victory with a little dance—to which dean face-palmed at.

when you attempted to get down, you realized something was off. you quite literally could not climb down. your lips pursed and you tried to come up with a plan inside your head—which was filled with song lyrics and what else you could take a picture of. not helpful, so you resorted to your only other option. sam and dean!

"de. i think i'm stuck..." your voice was almost quiet, which dean took as an opening to tease you.

"huh? what was that birdie? i can't hear your chirping from down here." he said, that dumb grin etched onto his face—a face you couldn't wait to smack.

"sam, will you help me!" you almost yelled as a pout formed on your glossy lips—no dry lips around here! "gosh..."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that stressful part of the day, you settled into the backseat of baby while the boys sat in the front. people might think that you're being forced to sit in the back—no, it's actually the opposite. who wants to sit between two men, especially ones who spread their legs like they're the only ones sitting there. at least in the back you can lay down, and not think about the sexual activities that have gone down. it makes for a great way to take pictures of them with out their knowledge.

"can we stop at a gas station, i want snacks." you asked as you poked your head into the front, turning up the music in the process.

"i could go for some too." sam joked, his eyes focusing in on yours.

a soft smile played at his lips—he couldn't imagine life without you. you'd just walst into it and changed them for the better. no matter how far you went, your wings always brought you back.

"i guess, birdie..." dean grumbled, he knew good and well that he couldn't say no to you. neither could sam. "shut up, bitch." dean joked with sam, a genuine smile forming on deans stubbled face.

"jerk."

the sun faded in the background as you sang out into the sky, the wind tangling in your hair. another day spent with your boys and memories made. that was what a good day is to you.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE! 👯‍♀️ photographer!readers first little story/drabble! i hope you guys like her and pls share your thoughts and opinions! I LOVE HEARING THEM!

special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @sunsettsam @h8aaz @deansbeer

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[shineon3]

hi sarah! for the situations ask game

22 + 43 maxiel 👀

From here.

Hi tysh!! This was fun to write tbh ^^ so here's some Fake dating + Truth or dare maxiel for you ❤️

“Okay, yall, we’re playing truth or dare!”

Max winces, his groan drowned in the sea of cheers that erupt in the room. Trust Charles for wanting to play stupid drinking games.

Next to him, Daniel laughs, loud and unrestrained, like he always gets as soon as he’s just a little bit tipsy. 

Max watches the first rounds play out, thankfully being spared by the spinning bottle sitting in the middle of the table. He watches Franco awkwardly flirt with Lewis for a dare, cringes when Alex has to spill the beans about the infamous throat infection incident while George tries to get the earth to swallow him whole.

And then, just as he got comfortable being a spectator, the world sends him the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever uttered. 

“So, Max. Truth or dare, hm?”

There’s a dangerous glint in Charles’ eyes, and he swallows, throat clicking a bit too loudly. 

“Uh, truth, I guess?”

Charles’ smile widens, almost shark-like. Around them, the whole table falls silent.

“How did you and Daniel start dating?”

Max wonders if he can escape this if he slams his head hard enough against the table.

See, the thing is, Max and Daniel aren’t dating. Not really. It’s just that, at the beginning of the season, Charles, the paddock’s biggest gossip, had caught them sleeping in the same bed, something they did whenever one of them ended up being too tired after hanging out, and had drawn his own conclusions. Neither Max nor Daniel had denied it, thinking that Charles was just teasing them, but the Monegasque had spilled the beans to the whole grid, who now also believes they're dating. 

Daniel had laughed when he found out, and then shrugged.

“They’ll understand their mistake sooner or later, I reckon. It’s not like we’re actually dating, Maxy, right?”

It just had to come back and bite their asses.

Of course.

Max should have known.

“We’re- Charles, we’re not dating.”

“Don’t lie, Max, I saw you. Daniel was practically naked in your bed!”

Fuck. Daniel had been practically naked in his bed. But that’s only because he’s used to sleeping in his boxers! It’s not weird! 

Right?

Something tickles the shell of his ears, making him shiver. 

“Go on, Maxy. Be a good boy and tell ‘em how we started dating, hm? Or should I do that for you, darling?”

Daniel’s deep, crooning voice rumbles right against his ear, and Max can feel himself flush. The brunette’s arms wrap around his waist, under the cover of the table, playing with the hem of his shirt. Fuck. How could Max forget how touchy Daniel gets when drunk?

“I suppose it is acceptable, if you’re the one to tell us,” Charles' smile is somehow even wider. Max will be getting new, better friends, after this. “Spill the beans, Daniel.”

And Daniel does. He tells an elaborated story about the start of their supposed relationship, where he “seduces Max with his wild looks and gentleman manners”, whatever that might mean. Max doesn’t fully pay attention to it, especially when Daniel’s hands shift lower, dangerously close to where Max has been half hard for a while, the older’s curious hands roaming around his midsection coupled with the way Daniel spoke to him just a minute ago enough to rile him up. 

Okay, so. Max might have a tiny, itty bitty insignificant crush on his best friend. Might. He can’t help it if Daniel insists on looking like sex on legs whenever he wears clothes, if Daniel constantly crashes his bed because he “sleeps better on it”, if Daniel always invites him out for dinner, if-

“ - but if you’ll excuse us, I think Maxy and I have some things to do. Adios, losers.”

Max tunes back in just in time to get up when Daniel tugs at his arms, a big grin almost spreading his face in half. The brunette drags him out of the club and into a cab, tucking himself as close as physically possible to Max.

“We’re going back to my room, and unless you’re against it, I’m going to take my sweet time fucking you. Capiche?”

Max has never said yes to anything this fast. 

[aialsposts]

Absolutely LOVING the use of Mabel’s slang and Ford’s slight hesitation but willingness to adapt because like. Those kids talked like old timers in the show (likely just from being around one for a while)

so you KNOW they came back when in high school with Dipper saying stuff like “I’m about to absolutely crash out on Robbie this time. MABELLL?? WHERE’S YOUR GRAPPLING HOOK-“

And Mabel saying stuff like

“Slay the house down mama!!” And “you better WALK that DUCK” and even Dipper is like,,

“So from what I gather this is… a way of her saying essentially you’re doing really well and your outfit is so good it could…kill her??? I think??”

And it’s also a lot of Ford finally caving and begging for a presentation from Dipper about their generation’s Slang. Mabel has to be Dipper’s project partner; while he initially didn’t want to drag her into this, unfortunately he hit a wall in his research where he fully couldn’t see the connection, and Mabel was completely overexcited to oblige.

First half of the presentation:

Very well put together slides, including graphics here and there introducing a timeline for when said slang started taking off, Dipper’s theories as to *why* certain slang rose more popularly/had longer “staying power”, and even some older slang from Ford’s generation that roughly translates to something modern. “I’m gonna crash out on ___” roughly equals “you’re cruising for a bruising, pal”

While the other half was essentially:

*disorganized bright colors and really hard to read print over graphics that don’t really technically go with what’s being talked about?? From what Ford can gather??*

The first presentation is an absolute disaster, but after finally setting aside their differences to create a better, much more comprehensive presentation, it ends up with Dipper learning a lot more lingo, too (for better or worse, you decide lmao), and having Mabel do more of the sort of explaining to Dipper (he did the graphics and visuals this time, it hurt his SOUL to see his sister’s side of the presentation BDJSVDJ) and Mabel helped Dipper grapple with the connotations of lingo a little more. For some reason the worse it sounds it seems to mean?? Something better?? It confuses him just as much as it does Ford, and Ford really starts to see ‘tism signs in Dipper as he slowly realizes how much Dipper is just like him growing up (like. Dude’s REALLY trying to understand “slay” “yass” “queen” and he gets that down and Mabel’s like “alright, beginner level over, now, what does, “slay the house down boots mama!” Mean?”

Even adding her extravagant gestures to the slang, which, to his credit, surprised Dipper because normally body language helps but like. Mabel body language and “what the culture’s feeling” aren’t exactly the same thing. He couldn’t, for the LIFE of him, figure out whether or not the gestures were actually included— as in, used by anyone other than just Mabel— and he was in fact wrong because it turns out the gestures ARE important, but there’s also varying LEVELS of importance.

Like the more emphasis (more ‘cartoony’/fluid/exaggerated the movement, the more the person REALLY fucking means it, no matter how little or how much emphasis they put into their voice (kinda going against his autism’s way of learning because like. Tones are?? So important I thought??? Why does this not apply here??)

Genuinely once they’ve presented all the information, and Ford gets a better idea of it, they’re all ready to just end this information exchange,,, until Stan walks in and overhears Dipper say to Mabel, “I think we slayed this presentation”

To which the twins simultaneously face palm as they realize they have to do the presentation again,

and Ford gets The BIGGEST grin, because, you see, Ford’s ability to process information is largely dependent on setting, generally, the mystery shack is… not a place he’s overjoyed about being at, but with others around it can sort of quell that sick feeling he gets and such.

So while he *mostly* understood the presentation, he didn’t want to have the twins repeat themselves (especially after learning what “unc status” means) so when his brother, Stanley, has to endure the same chaos but WITHOUT the prior understanding Ford’s now working with, all he can do is pull the twins aside and whisper, “how about we add something to your presentation, I think it might help Stanley understand this one term better-“

After a few slides where Stanley hardly seems to be paying any attention, Mabel clears her throat, Dipper stifling his laughter as Mabel announces loud and clear that a “new term” “just dropped”. She points the clicker super professionally, and as the slides turn, it’s the most abhorrent neon slide to ever disgrace the earth. Glitter. Fairies. Graphics that actually DO work this time though, she made sure to give more accurate visuals.

Introducing: GRUNK STATUS!

“It’s like Unc status but even more archaic!” Mabel enthusiastically declares.

Dipper is giggling so hard he’s having a full out asthma attack on the floor, and Ford finally can’t contain his laughter either. Mabel starts to laugh along and Stanley looks absolutely miserable for a moment.

“Aw, c’mon they’re just kids,” Ford laughs.

“You put them up to this. I don’t know how to prove it but I KNOW you did this. That stupid fucking Pun has YOUR NAME written ALL OVER IT-“

*cough/mumbles something about it being Stanley’s name, legally, last he checked which IMMEDIATELY Started a fight, until Mabel slams her fist down.*

“Ahem. Gentlemen. The presentation isn’t OVER. Sheesh, talk about Crashing out,” Mabel says, SO calmly that both grunkles sink back in their seats a bit like kids in trouble for causing a ruckus at school. (Mabel and Dipper do a lil thumbs up bc hey, that was a great way to give an example of a Term, Mabel! Good job!)

“Ohh… I get it, Crashing Out means you’re cruising for a bruising!” Stanley declares (sort of under his breath). To which Ford replies, voice equally lowered, “wasn’t that a few slides back? They already said that,” as if he hadn’t had the EXACT same epiphany earlier on, and was merely able to contain it before sounding “even more unc” (he tries, but the grammar with the slang is slightly off sometimes).

This essentially causes another argument.

This third run of their presentation took them 2 hours to get through due to Stanley and Stanford’s arguing.

Their first two runs with only Ford took maybe 45 minutes max (not including their needing to fix said presentation).

The twins put up with Stan and Ford’s fighting because they realized it’s probably essentially exactly how they looked when they were bumping into each other the first time they were trying to create this presentation.

Some things never change.

Sibling Rivalry? Absolutely timeless.

I was thinking about how he did not have to include this photo of himself in TBOB and how it really looks like it had to be taken by someone else.