#how do i go abt this !!!!! when !!!! you rattle me !!!! and you might always rattle me !!!!! bx i dont get it !!!!!

[29121996]

.

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[teddybeartoji]

HELLO MICKEY !!!!! bf!gojo anon here and i just wanted to say i was jumping in joy reading your reply to me ily i am covering you in kisses too mwah mwah MWAH!!!!!!

i come with more bf!gojo brainrot because he's genuinely all i think of these days it's getting concerning.. what did he put in my drink ?! and i want to share them with you bcs he rly makes me happy and i hope these silly rambles make you feel happy too! :D

anyway.. he'll be so into whatever.. all kinds of marking !! whether it may be something like hickeys or or sharing clothes :(( HE WOULD WEAR YOUR CLOTHES TOO!!! like those oversized shirts or jackets or hoodies he doesnt care if theyre small or big on him he will. WEAR it!! him wearing your hoodie.. and your hoodie smelling like him.. while you wear his one that atp smells like you ://

ok and hickeys. clears throat i think at first he'd be a bit shy (but excited) about having to walk around with a BRUISE on his neck but .. now.. it feels weirder if he doesnt have a mark of some sort.. also him with lipstick on his neck ? his smooth milky neck ???? rattles cage YOU GET ME ?!

necks.... he immediately melts and turns into a whiny mess when you get near his throat.. when you start kissing him there he never wants you to stop.. ever.. he also loves doing the same thing to your neck ^_^ ok i think i need to stop bcs im going to hyperventilate and this might get nasty real fast bcs needy gojo baring his neck is something tht makes smoke come out of my ears THANK U FOR LISTENING HAVE A GOOD DAY

BOYFRIEND SATORUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOD I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE MAKES ME SO NERVOUS HE GIVES ME BUTTERFLIES EEEEEEEEEEEEE I'M SO GLAD WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER THOUGH NONNIE<3333333333

AAAAAAAAAA YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT HIM LOVING ANY FORM OF MARKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE LOVES LOVES LOVES TO SHOW THAT HE'S YOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he wears the hickeys you give him with pride and the same goes for lipstick marks and your clothes too. and he obviously loves marking you up too but tbh i think it's more important for him to be yours and not the other way around.

he also likes to buy you clothes that he knows will fit him too,, he wants you to wear them for some time just so he can steal them for himself later lmao i think he loves hoodies the most!!!!!!!!!!!! i might be biased here but idk i feel like hoodies are always so warm and comfortable and now that they also smell like you satoru wishes he would never have to take the piece of clothing off!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND HE FUCKING ADORES LIPSTICK MARKS THEY MAKE HIM SO FUCKING GIDDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! esp when you're messing around, sitting on his lap and just kissing him all over it feels like he's in heaven he can't get enough of it. and he just soo so handsy while you do it too he really is like a puppy sometimes lmao but mmmmmmm nonnie just imagine how pretty his smile would be:(((((( his cheeks are dusted pink bc he feels so warm all over, his body burning from your love<3333333333 i love smitten satoru so fucking much i'm gonna explode i think

NONNIE. HIS NECK. IS SO. FUCKING. SENSITIVE. literally his weakest point btw... you could just look at his neck and he's already feeling warm lmao he's so cute godddd he loves it when you lick and kiss his neck it gets him so needy and pliant in seconds he's just putty in your hands you could do whatever you want with him (he's into that)

and you're right abt him loving your neck too though.... ooouughhh he really likes licking your neck (??????) and biting too. he likes the way you twitch and squirm under him:33333333 btw i just need to say that kissing overall is one of his favourite things ever. not even like making out he loves Kissing. he wants to feel your lips against his at all times, he wants to taste you. you're so soft and you feel so good in his arms and he goes wild over the little sounds you let out whenever he nips at your bottom lip mmmmmmm fuck that's so hot...

OKE BUT WAHHHHH I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT ON THIS MY BELOVED I AM SO GLAD YOU'RE HERE THOUGH BC WOW HE MAKES ME FEEL INSANE he's thee loverboy of all times he just needs to be loved and held and taken care of. and he wants to do the same to you. you're his everything<33333333333

[zukkacore]

I want the director’s cut of. Honestly the entirety of if you want divinity. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to talk about. I need to just stare out a window for awhile. I feel like crying. Wow. Amazing story stunning stunning stunning.

HELLO FRIEND SCREAMS thank you so much you know how meaningful it is that people like. Like my writing and engage with it and you've been so sosososo incredibly sweet. Sorry yours took the longest, I was trying to think of something to say bc apparently there's a word limit on these things. Boo. I would totally do a total annotated doc otherwise bc im cringe but i went over like a LOT of the references stuff in Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 which honestly. Might be a lot of the process.

Imma see if I have any other notes off the top of my head:

THE POSTER: ok, so. The WEAKNESS IS PAIN LEAVING THE BODY poster. Obviously that's a bit of an ironic joke. That wasn't even really supposed to be there. I'm realizing i kept in the draft the fact that Jace makes the picture frames on Porter's desk rattle. And actually, during the implied Cassandra Divine Intervention scene where the poster falls, was originally supposed to be one of the pictures on the desk. I... couldn't justify it. I was like. idk whats weird n whats not to have as a framed picture on your desk if you're a teacher.

I'm like. Genuinely I think one of my biggest flaws as a writer is sensory detail, description, like maintaining characters geography w/in a space. King of white wall syndrome. At the bare minimum, I do think there's this kinda funny old vs. new feeling regarding Jace's belongings, his home, etc. Or like. I guess not kitsch but like something mass market vs. very old and traditional. Like the couch in my head like something small, ugly and modern, like very minimalist and kinda uncomfortable, and something a lot of people would own. But there's also the grandfather clock in the corner—to me that's also something that was passed down like the brooch. The brooch, moon n stars, obviously n heirloom—he's has like old roots in fallinel, his family is of Galicaean faith. But also The brooch is described in the same scene as the mug Porter keeps, and it's the most generic millenial like mass market slogan thing you've ever seen. There's this like. Presence of his family's influence even if he doesn't speak to them. But also a life that's. Kinda on autopilot.

I.... i always feel like I'm patting myself on the back abt this. I do really like the Detect magic + Teleport meld. I think it was clever. I'm telling myself that's ok to say. Mainly b/c it was a good solution to two problems. And a little bit b/c I think it's romantic to rip through space and time for someone. Again, I keep joking that he loved Porter to the point of invention (something i only feel self congratulatory about bc he did it in canon first).

Anyway. I was struggling SO HARD on what to do about these flashback scenes and i've said this before but like they were so close to being on the cutting room floor. I just felt like i couldn't justify them in something that was meant to be kinda... fun? Haha. "fun" IYWD. As if. The Detect thoughts i think helped with what to do about inserting those flashbacks, which i think helped resolve my problem of them feeling pointless b/c its like. It's not for our benefit, it's literally the memories weighing on Porter at like all times. They hang over everything.

The Teleport part was bc i was like. Ok. This is the biting maiming killing dropping during sex couple. If there's a question of "you can do anything you want to me", there HAS to be an escalation of stakes. But also this doesn't feel like a story that necessitates like. A lot of violence in their kinkplay I guess? When there's so much else going on, there's so much like about mourning and the violence already inflicted on Jace twofold that's actually a source of guilt for his horrible evil loser boyfriend porter. I already went through a LOT of contrivance just to get them into Porter's office (i think the fucking in porter's office jokes are fun, sue me), but I also was like. Ok. I think I need to go bigger by going smaller. If he changes the spell to rip through time, there's this like—doubling that makes it so on some level they're basically recreating their first time. Which i think makes the kinda silly vanilla (with little bit of mind reading lol) mundanity of that last part hopefully work

Fun Fact: the "I actually kinda miss you, aint that peculiar" "I'm right here" scene is the first one I wrote. It was basically the basis for everything. As it existed then, it was wayyyyy different tho. The tone was actually a lot more hostile. The patching up injuries thing actually came in way later and i was super embarrassed bc i was like that's so cliche but now i like it b/c i think there's such a Ratgrinders haunt the narrative thing about it. A Jace Cares and that's the thesis of Porter's grief thing about it.

The "there it is, the line" "you're so weird" into he never wants porter to stop saying mystifying things to him. Like. Completely changed the trajectory of what was going on almost by accident. Like. It literally wasn't until that moment that i was like. Oh. Oh. He wants porter to stay. B/c like

I see so much of the 1st half of the story as Jace like. Using Porter's want for him as a way to satisfy his own wants and needs. He wants pleasure after denying himself. But he also needs to live. I keep saying he's using sex as a tool b/c i really think he is—he wants to be so good porter can never live without him. And on level one, that's about making sure he's indispensible. Making sure he stays alive. But the second thing thats buried under there is more of a want—for Porter to stay with him. And that changed it from Jace actually fighting to have the upper hand and in some ways even getting Porter on the back foot to it being like. Actual desperation.

How many Jaces are in this story? Good question. Pre and post shatterstar for sure, but also we only see Pre in flashbacks so they're more like Porter's perception of pre. The clones are implied but do not make an appearance. And obviously after the first 5, the other jaces w/in 8 Jace thesis are more concepts in people's heads (and also one of them is 25). The Jace of Porter's memory is definitely there. The Jace Porter thought he would get after the shatterstar also haunts the scene. too. It's jaces all the way down.

Idk if it makes sense my logic behind this but. There's Porter complimenting Jace when he's really raw and vulnerable and messy and its like. Jace's response is that it's unfair. And b/c there's so much talk abt justice and unfair in FHJY i was like. Can. there be an instance in which something is unfair in a good way? Like. In that you're the one being treated unfairly at the expense of everyone else. Like. almost like. Sometimes you can be unfair in that you're easier on your friend than you might be on someone else. That's not fair, but like. That's human. Like if something is unfair you might be getting an advantage on something you didn't earn. But you don't have to earn love, but the fact that Jace didn't have to work for it, he feels like he's getting something too easily. It's unfair. In a good way.

I've said this before but I do think Porter is able to come to some sort of synthesis about Jace. And that he was maybe able to even conceive of the totality of him b/c of how the flashbacks are laid out. Like. in the first one he's unpalatable and angry and a disappointment to the memory of Jace that Porter imagined. In the second one he's sort of perfect, the scene too short and precious and romanticized to be muddied by real flaws in his mundanity and simplicity. And in the last one, Jace is mundane, flawed, overworked, overly familiar with his students, willing to play favorites, but also empathetic, good at making connections, ultimately well meaning and trying his best. Someone real, that's Porter's favorite. It's up to interpretation i think. esp bc like.

Counterpoint: I think you could also read that. Porter seems to love this Jace more the way a god loves their creation than the way a man loves another man. Like. yeah they're suckin n fuckin but also Porter being in to the fact that jace is "so trusting" is very. Helio always has a plan and i let him take the wheel, no? He's moved by Jace's devotion. Jace will take that tho. He'll take it all.

Final point: if brennan says that anything his PCs do can become fair game for him, then same for me. If Adaine n Aelwyn can use dimension door to go to her parents house / aelwyn's apartment despite the distance, that's fair game for me to misuse it < 3. (i just think if i'd allowed for the teleport it would've made way more sense to go to someone's house. And llike. that's no fun at all

I might rb with more thoughts later to be a menace. Thank you!

[artnerd1123]

1, 7, 18, 21 for the ask meme >:D

hehehe ty luke >:3

1: do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road? oh god good question LSDKFJLKS, it really depends tbh X] i find more often than not that i might start with a vague ending idea that ends up changing/altering the more i play with the story. for example, AFW went from no ending to one ending to that one ending getting reworked several times! and CR3WM8TS technically has no planned ending. whereas with DTRH and Paradice i've always kinda had an idea of where i want em to end! its like... i have a path i want to forge, and the more i move down it, the easier I can see what the end of the path really looks like. it's a journey for me as much as it is for the characters- even if the ending turns out being similar to what I expected at the start.

7: tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write JUST ONE??? BRO... i love writing lots of my characters!!! currently my favorite to write is Warrior, he's just a kind himbo golden retriever of a man. i'd die for him fr. he's easy to write, and he's always a delight :D

18: tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot ahhh i had someone for this... i gotta remember who it is LSDKJFLSK this question's always hard bc i can kinda find some of myself in every character i write! very different is more subjective i think X] i love a lot of my villains in a sort of "rattles them in a jar theyre so AWFUL. amazing" kind of way. but if we were to go just, personality nd dispositionwise... i'd have to say maybe Aiden, Hendrix, Witch, or Robot! I know thats more than one but shh. im doing my best lsdkjfslKLSDFJL Aiden/Hen both have more life experience and are much better at being a comforting stable rock than i am, in addition to just being the embodiment of a dad. Witch is the definition of a peppy fashion loving tiktok queen and that's just not my scene! nd robot is very very logical and formal- neither of which can i really be. they're all delightful tho <3

21: BIG ask: what do you think is the most important component of a good story? the characters, honestly. they're the vessels in which the story is told, the results of the plot and the ones who have to sort through whatever conflict is presented to them. u dont need a ton of characters- but strong ones, ones that are established (or at least consistent) and treated like people by the author and not just pawns to move around on a board. i mean, the pawn thing is good, but just- make the characters more than simple furnishings to the story. they live there, they don't sit there! i am still so salty abt b@t1m bc it teased so many characters that ultimately did little and had no real effect on the world around them ok lskdfjlsk they're my favorite part of a story anyway <3

[bredforloyalty]

hi, im the anon from like a couple days ago. srry that im just clogging up ur inbox widhd but i dont rlly have anywhere else 2 talk abt it. ive just been privately indulging in my like.. Weird Thoughts which is nice but god it would be so neat to just be able to talk abt them w someone else ?? and like. im sure theres someone online i can ramble abt it to but i dont know where to look and considering these r like. pretty Freakish thoughts and concepts i also run into the chance of maybe coming across like actually malicious ppl so thats discouraging me from looking too. i dont know. its just a struggle sometimes. u can absolutely feel free to ignore bc im just rattling along but yea 😭

do you think its okay if i write dark/mature stories abt teenagers set in high school? like in the style of ginger snaps. im a teenager myself and ive been rotating this plotline in my head that involves themes like murder/sex/drug use/etc. and all my main characters are my age. im just worried that once i become an adult and actually write it maybe people might think im being weird towards teenagers ?? i dont know. just been thinking abt this a lot

oh my god anon i totally forgot to answer those other asks from a few days back.... SO SORRY ABOUT THAT i relate i feel you but most importantly, you can message me!!! if you'll make do with lil old me lol but if you're talking more generally about just messaging anyone, i get that too... it's uhm it's weird internal struggles most of the time, for some of us, when you're like uh, like this 😔

and about writing, let me just preface this by saying that i'm not a writer and i'm not very wise and i'm not an authority on this, i know everyone knew but i wanted to emphasize lol. so yeah i appreciate that you asked me and i think whatever you think is appropriate for you to write is appropriate! what you feel is right is right, believe in your ability to tell what's correct morally and what's not and to tell what fits your story best and have the courage to write what you really want to write :)

there's stuff like abuse and power dynamics that i'd love if people treated with care, like when deciding how to portay it, but even with those it's like, i don't believe viewing a fucked up dynamic through rose-colored glasses is harmful in itself... or that it can't be very touching art if it's not spelled out clearly that this is an unhealthy unbalanced relationship, and for survivors especially or people who are intimately familiar with fucked up, i think.. what am i saying. i KNOW the ""romanticization"" angle can affect survivors deeply, in a catharsis way and not a re-traumatized way i mean hxsgcy so that has real merit in fiction in my opinion

you know how they say great art disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed or smth like that? i know it's hard and sticking by your own moral code (that might go against social norms) has to be learned and practiced, and the backlash that comes with challenging taboos is never exactly a walk on the beach but i encourage you to go for it and try to forget about what certain people will think! there will be stupid malicious interpretations always but you're not writing for those people, you're writing for the people that Do get it!! who will get it, when they read it, for those that see you and understand

anyway yes you're not clogging up my inbox and my dms are open, feel free to hop in there if you want to talk to someone and be certain you're not going to be judged💓💓💓

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

also earlier i was rattling off the info abt autism and stuff to my mom bc i’m inching towards like. ok.

my brain is super literal. even though i know things to not be true, we still go thru the steps of “oh really?” for even the most ridiculous things. i think i saw a joke abt arin hanson on his birthday where someone had said he was 92 and my brain STILL went really? LIKE ??? HOW. WHY

but this means that when ppl tell me things, i tend to believe them immediately. i know to walk myself through certain steps or ideas so i don��t panic or feel like things won’t get better

but when a family friend said oh there’s no way u have autism, i believed them and now struggle to justify thinking i might, even though i know i do certain things that are in line with being neurodivergent but not necessarily w adhd

like social routines (both?) or stims (both?) or disliking my routine being interrupted (vs the adhd need for diversified routine) or painful sounds or texture issues with food and some other things

and it’s like. 1 i think it’s on topic for me 2 there are tons of reasons why i’d believe my mom to be neurodivergent, from similar habits to the whole “everybody does that” when not everyone does--even tho she’s ableist lol, and 3 it’s interesting and i share information as a way of connecting with people

and on the topic of that, of infodumping and talking so we can like. connect and chat and everything, she was like “you need to understand the social cues of when someone isn’t interested” and i’m like

ok 1 we are talking about a way of being that involves issues w social cues. i’m explaining that to you 2 i’m trying to connect with you, you ass 3. I’M SAYING IT’S RELEVANT, I’M SAYING MAYBE TAKE THE AUTISM QUIZ, I’M TELLING YOU HOW I INTERACT W THE WORLD. I’M TELLING YOU SOMEONE YOU’RE FRIENDS W TELLING ME I’M NOT AUTISTIC HAS ME DOUBTING MY NEURODIVERGENCY EVEN THOUGH IT AFFECTS EVERY PART OF MY LIFE AND ALWAYS HAS not to mention the issue w like, not being able to stop infodumping esp when it’s making me happy. like being asked to stop stimming when i need to do it

and she was like i’m not looking at u or responding and i’m like girl u don’t do that anyways OR i’m assuming you’re multitasking like i wanted to fucking talk asshole lol

[free-pool-trash]

everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys… you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

*

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

*

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[cospinol]

FINALLY WE’RE HERE

a) the sacrifice itself :))))) which we got with exactly the right lack of sentimentality at the end of the day, it’s so cute that in the few seconds between hou mei’s decision and the blade coming down rei ou doesn’t express even a tiny bit of understanding/sympathy/resignation/affection for hou mei, it’s purely anger and surprise that he’s been outplayed and abandoned like this 💓. it’s what Really makes this the perfect punchline to the intro scene where he talks abt how hou mei is surpassing him; he didn’t really believe that, in the end! But…

b) rei ou might not have believed what he was saying, but of course hou mei did :D he was so modest and has been so deferent to his teacher up until now but he shifts tack into seizing his assets so seamlessly here ❤️ I think it’s something he’d thought about before, not out of malice but because planning the best course for any contingency is the right thing to do for someone in his position, just like ensuring his own survival :)

As I’ve been watching rei ou closely in the anime so far, I’ve thought at multiple points that he really is deeply focused on the other dragons (especially shi haku) above all else (*certainly* moreso than his opponents, he barely seems to know who tou is), in a way that makes sense given their personal history but also *is* markedly different than the way hou mei observes the battlefield; up until now I’ve mostly been just going lol how intimate when, like, he got unreasonably rattled by the idea of someone being able to best shi haku in spearmanship, but I think that’s the kind of thing hou mei is talking about (in terms of him being stuck in the past) and does perceive as a legitimate weakness. Ofc this is a little hypocritical of hou mei (which like, obviously, it would be a less cute trait if it wasn’t) given his own ability to throw a tantrum when things don’t go his way, but it also makes sense for him to be Disappointed in his master who at the beginning of this arc he really did believe was superior in skill to himself…… and all personal matters aside I think the core of the matter is that he Is primarily thinking of his country before all else. :)!

And with that we’re done with our very last Fire Dragons Saturday :( so I’ll be re-entering my state of hibernation until they animate war of three states arc 2-4 years from now.

always appreciate a good Kaine And Fu Tei Violence scene though<3

Zhao scene is mostly just housekeeping but a) thank you to mvp kei sha for bringing up ka rin and letting me See Her (also nice to see him at home here since koku you arc is now closer on the horizon than ever :((((((), and b) fu tei’s lines abt their army stagnating during ri boku’s forced leave of absence, and abt their king’s unfitness to rule……… :(.

& I hit image limit here but I also appreciate sei’s mom running circles around ryo fui and shou bun kun in court, because they deserve it. Onward to ai and his state…………

[jennycalendar]

CAN WE GET a retrospective of the vampire jenny fic(s). like there are a lot so i'm not even gonna be specific but how do you feel abt what inspired you to write vampire jenny and whether your perception of her has changed over time as you get older and move about and such :)

BLESS YOU THIS IS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION took me forever to answer it but . ah well. gotta go thru my inbox at some point soon honestly college has been SO much and it's only been one day of actual class....

anyway vampire jenny is something i think about a lot! initially when i was in high school i was very attached to the idea of her being a spike-esque vampire -- that is, her love for giles and the scoobies persisting even after her turning, just slightly different and weird. i know i've seen (and written) quite a few portrayals of vamp jenny as just plain evil, but the concept has been rattling around in my head and i don't know if i like her as simply evil or simply good-ish as vampires go.

see, jenny's driving characteristic is her compassion, and a lot of the conflict within her comes from external forces telling her that she's not allowed to be kind (whether that's her uncle or Literal Canon. yes i am still and always salty.) it's hard for me to imagine that compassion vanishing a la angelus, simply because being a vampire is in many ways about repressed desires surfacing. or at least that's how i choose to interpret it -- i know canon's got a lot of conflicting vamp mythos.

ANYWAY point is i can't imagine a vampire jenny that's just plain evil when it comes to the scoobies. now that i am giving it some actual thought, i'm kinda of the mind that jenny's most repressed resentment would actually be towards angel? like, this guy literally shaped her life into what it was, and while she's found it in herself to forgive him, i think there would still definitely be some quiet frustration existing in human jenny when she looks at him. so vamp jenny might just go doggedly after angelus in an attempt to punish him for destroying her, ESPECIALLY if he sired her.

but she's also smart! i can definitely see her teaming up with the scoobies in, like, the slimiest way possible -- maybe pretending that she has her soul so that she can figure out a way to kill angel (and maybe her desire TO kill angel is what tips giles and buffy off to the fact that this isn't jenny). i think her love for giles would still very much be a thing, and she would be .... lmao can i say "much more assertive" when it's jenny? it's likely she'd be much more up front about her feelings for him and her willingness to commit to a long-term relationship, especially when she's the one with strength and power and the ability to kill him if it turns out he's not in love with her. i do think that giles would be hugely reticent about a relationship with her, which would create some resentment and friction (not at all like smooth-talking vamp giles and immediately swooning human jenny lmaoooo). i don't think she would KILL him but there would definitely be some violent and incredibly fucked up altercation between them.

giles, i think, would be determined to somehow give her her soul back. maybe this is a fic. this could be a fic.

[mindthedocent]

(and ofc feel free to answer in as much or as little detail as u prefer, no pressure) (hope ur having a good day!! the fic really brightened mine)

HELO A COMTINUATION sorry i had to go to work lol

so in regards to their recent heartfelt love confessions here's what probably goes down

min has to put a stop to the "joking" flirting thing theyve got going on bc its breaking his heart. right? he's been in love with ryan for (mumbles quietly) years. so he thinks ryan doesn't feel the same and is just LIKE that (bc he's ALWAYS been like that), and he cant stand the prolonged hand-grasping and the hugs and the falling asleep on his shoulder thing ryan does.

so he sits ryan down for a serious talk (and ryan's over here nervously like ok so he's figured it out and DOESN'T reciprocate so its damage control time and this is either gonna end in us parting ways or finding a new normal where we remain awkward friends).

and min is like. ryan im sorry but i need to set some boundaries. and its not about you and you have no fault in this, its me. and you cant ask why. but i need you to back off on the tactile stuff a little bit.

ryan, to himself: oh no we did NOT traverse a horror therapy train for min to avoid telling me why he's uncomfortable with my affection. nope we r HAVING this talk.

ryan aloud: why? :(

and min SIIIGHHHS and goes through this whole roundabout explanation to try to not tell ryan that he's in love with him and ALSO not sound like hes being weird abt platonic male affection, hoping that ryan will lose the thread of conversation and just say okay

but ryan KNOWS this trick and he follows min through the winding woods of this fucking conversation and when min's done, when min's like, did that make sense?

ryan's like. yeah.

(min sighs in relief, thinking ryan didn't really get it but is saying yeah anyway)

ryan: you'RE IN LOVE WITH ME

and min gets all scared and tries to backtrack but ryan knows, he KNOWS and he just flops forward and pulls min into the tightest hug he can muster and says "me too" and min's crying, they're both crying? why are they crying why are they laughing

they both calm down after a while, but now ryan's gripping min's hand like he'll die if they let go, and they talk about things! they basically go through the whole timeline of their attraction to each other, talk about how moving into a romantic relationship might change things, and what they might do to mitigate that. what they might do if they work out better as friends. how they might navigate this relationship publicly.

min's very frank about sex? i think he knows what his limits are and he kind of has to coax some answers out of ryan too bc he doesn't want to overstep in like the heat of the moment or whatever. i think hes not very detailed abt anything but he definitely tells ryan he is willing to try anything once. ryan probably probes a LITTLE bit but he's also way too shy about openly talking about it. so he kind of just asks vague questions and nods if he's agreement, or grimaces if he's not. mins fine with this he knows hes the odd one out of the human population here.

haha ha this got longggg i have so many thoughts rattling around in my brain lmao. thank you so so much for this!!!! im glad you enjoyed it enough to come to me to ask questions abt it!!!!!

[jengajives]

Look I have so many feelings abt Finrod’s death so I decided to rewrite it

Warning does be having blood, gore, and deaths but like that’s how it be. Stay safe folks

(Again pardon my shitty Elvish thx)

The waves pounded against the ice inside his skull, thrashing him with frigid whitewater, trying to tear away what little grip he had. Trying to drag him into the depths of the polar sea.

And he wanted to go. Wanted to sink away and be at peace in the depths with all those of his people who had been lost. But he did not deserve such an end.

Because he saw the blood on the limestone wharfs of Aqualondë and on his spear tip, and on the faces of the mariners he had murdered for their life’s work. He saw the bitter rocky coast and the distant horizon blood red with flame. He heard the Doom of Mandos echo in his head.

And he saw Barahir lying dead in a stinking, festering pool of blood and slime.

“Felagund!”

The voice shook him to awareness; the soft, gentle voice that achingly familiar to him. Kindness unspoiled by a lifetime of hardship, piercing him through to the core.

“Felagund, please!”

Finrod tried to raise a hand and rub his eyes, but there was only a rattle of chain and his movement stopped fast. It was then he realized the darkness was not that of temporary blindness, but of the ultimate and complete lack of light, somewhere deep beneath the earth. He coughed lightly and realized his throat was raw and spasmed when he tried to speak.

“I’m here, Beren.”

“You wouldn’t answer!” Beren was sobbing, somewhere to his left. “You wouldn’t move. I thought he’d- I thought he’d killed you!”

“No,” Finrod creaked. “I’m alright. Not too hurt at all...”

That wasn’t entirely true. There was a horrible ache all the way from his lips down to the depths of his diaphragm, and his mind felt sapped and paper-thin. He couldn’t remember why it hurt so much. Couldn’t remember why all he saw when he closed his eyes was blood.

“Where are we?” Finrod asked quietly. He got the feeling he should know the place, but in the dark he couldn’t possibly.

Beren sniffled. There was a strength to his voice, as always, but the despair set it on edge. “In the dungeons, I suppose. They dragged us down so many stairs...”

And Finrod promptly remembered Sauron.

He remembered his voice wavering as his power splintered. He remembered falling to the ground at the foot of that creature’s throne, and sobbing.

He remembered anguish after that, and nothing more.

Next to him, not so far away in the dark, Beren had started to weep.

“I’m never going to see her again. I’ve led you all to your deaths...”

The tiniest flicker of power waxed in Finrod’s heart.

“No, Beren. You will not die here in this darkness. You will not end hopeless and alone. Take strength; it is not over.”

And the words, for the moment, gave him the illusion of certainty that he couldn’t truly feel.

“The Elf, this golden-haired one, intrigues me.”

When Sauron spoke, Draugluin listened, as he was commanded, but rarely did he speak. Now he just growled lightly and pinned his ears, sitting huge and obedient at his master’s side.

“Surely he is one of the Exiles’ princes,” Sauron mused on, uninterrupted. “His power was great. But his face is strange to me. I don’t know him, Draugluin. It is essential that I know him.”

At last the Wolf spoke in answer, his voice a hideous snarl.

“And how would you have me discover this, master?”

Sauron settled back on his throne and smiled.

“Break him.”

Those valiant ten who had set off with them from Nargothrond screamed very little when the wolves came for them. Finrod could pretend, then, and hope beyond hope, that their deaths had been painless.

He could pray they had not suffered.

It happened one by one. In the endless black of the dungeon, there would be a glint of green eyes somewhere afar off in the shadow, and when less voice would answer when Finrod called out.

Beren was closest to him, and the Man suffered. The Eldar could withstand long darkness and captivity without thought of food or hope, but Beren was not so lucky. It wore him down. Finrod heard the weakness and despair grow in his voice every day, and when the hours seemed longest and darkest, he would speak of Lúthien Tinúviel and weep.

He asked once for Finrod to tell him about Valinor, in the utter throes of hopelessness, and Finrod had not been able to do it.

His power was shattered and the memory Valinor held only devastation for him in that shadow place.

Even in this most simple of things, he failed.

The hour at last came when the twelve who sat chained in the darkness had become two. Finrod and Beren alone remained.

It was only a matter of time before Felagund had to hear Barahir’s son die.

Only a matter of time before the son of Finarfin gave everything he had to keep this mortal Man safe.

He heard the claws clicking against the cold stone floor. He smelled the reek of blood and death, and at last, he saw the twin pinpricks of two cruel green eyes flashing to his left.

Beren whispered from beside him.

“I’m sorry I brought you to this.”

Finrod closed his eyes tighter and tighter until he saw the glow of the Golden and Silver Trees blazing in the heart of Valmar, and heard the horns of Oromë shake the earth, and Manwë’s eagles wheel beneath the stars, and he saw Nargothrond in all its strength and glory, and Barahir standing in the meadows of Dorthonion with laughter in his eyes.

The shackles burst, and when he again opened his eyes, he could see the face of the wolf illuminated by a grim white light.

Finrod threw himself upon the creature with the roar of the Valar in his throat.

The fur was thick and spiny. The claws sharp, and the teeth long. It was bigger than Finrod was. It was stronger.

But he dug his fingernails into the hide and locked his jaw upon its throat, and did not move as it howled and tore into him. The pain was dull. The rips it opened in his body easily ignored. He held on with the beast’s foul black blood filling his mouth, and his nails sinking into fever-hot flesh, and the dizzying frenzy of power and desperation turning his thoughts to a fog.

When it shook him from its throat at last, he got his hands into the wound he’d torn in it and ripped it wider as the fangs sliced through his belly to try and spill his guts. He didn’t feel the agony that surely must have been shooting through him. He didn’t feel anything at all.

The wolf cried and snapped at his hands, but he only managed to pull harder. Tearing the living flesh open like fabric.

A spray of blood rained on him and at last he lay still beneath the motionless body of the beast.

For a moment it seemed he would slip away just then, ripped to bits, but he wouldn’t have it. He could last a few moments longer.

Finrod stood. His legs might not have been the same length anymore- he couldn’t tell- but he managed to stumble to Beren in the dark, managed to find the chains in blood-slick fingers.

With the last of his strength, he pulled until the links burst open and snapped apart, and Beren was free.

Then Finrod put his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting against it, and listening to the strange gurgle in his throat grow quieter and weaker.

“Finrod!”

Beren sounded absolutely frantic. His hands fumbled in the dark, trying to check the wounds, trying to dress them- trying to do anything. Finrod sat gently batting his hands away until at last he managed to speak through the damage.

“Beren. Leave it. It’s over.”

“Finrod, no, n-no, you can’t-“

“You’re safe now.”

A horrific jolt of panic burst through him as he realized in the dark he’d never see Beren‘s face again and he struggled to push it aside. His voice faltered.

“I... I did everything I could for you, iôn.“ He tried to raise a hand and touch those familiar features, trace them into his mind’s eye, but he didn’t have the strength. “I’m only sorry I could not do more.”

“Don’t!” Beren’s breath caught. Suddenly he was sobbing, gripping Finrod’s hand and raising it to his cheek as if he thought he could stay him by will alone. “Adar, don’t go. Please!”

Finrod tried to say something but a cough interrupted, sending waves of agony through his spasming body, filling his mouth with blood. By the time he cleared it he could already feel himself fading.

“Beren,” he said, gripping the boy’s hands in his own. “Your father would be so proud of you. I will not see you again, but I... I shall never forget you.” His lungs wouldn’t work. No air came to him.

“Farewell,” he whispered on his last breath, and his eyes closed on Middle-Earth forever.

[pudding-head-kenma]

Midnight Boba [ Bokuto x Reader ]

⤔ request: danieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee will u right me smth abt boba and also bokuto working at a boba shoppp please hehe (jk u dont have to but id love it big smooches mwah)

⤔ a/n: i hope this is okay baby 💕

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*

               The sudden crash next to you startles you awake, forcing you to sit up in bed as you look around, disoriented.

               For a few seconds, you’re completely lost. Having woken up so suddenly by such a loud noise made it a little harder to focus on your surroundings.  Once you do, however, the problem is evident, and you find yourself shaking your head with a fond smile as you imagine the scene just outside your window.

               You get up, watching where you’re stepping as you expertly avoid the small glass shards on the floor, the gentle breeze from your now-broken window helping your speeding heart relax. You lean down, picking up the large rock that sat in the middle of the broken glass, no doubt the culprit to the mess that is now your room.

               Although thinking it through, the culprit is probably standing just outside in the dark, hands tugging on his hair as he desperately tries not to shout at – you glance at your clock – thirty past twelve at night, surely freaking out about his mistake. He’s probably trying to find the reason his plan hadn’t worked – had he not planned it long enough, when he thought about it all night? Had the rock been too big? Is he just incredibly strong?  In the end, it doesn’t matter, because you’re making your way towards the window and looking outside, spotting a very dishevelled looking Bokuto.  And as your eyes meet, he forgets trying to find the reason his plan failed, and instead loses himself looking at you.

               You smile. It’s a gentle smile, if not a bit sheepish, but it doesn’t matter to him, because it is your smile. He returns it twice as strong, the usual happy grin forming on his lips, completely overpowering you and making you forget about the ruined window you’re looking out through. He looks embarrassed, regretful, and apologetic – above all else, however, he looks happy.  All he wanted was to see you, the method is irrelevant.

               With a number of over-the-top hand movements, your boyfriend manages to explain – well, something.  He’s not exactly discreet or straight to the point, so you have a hard time following his rant just by his hands. You do, however, understand he’s calling you to go downstairs to meet him, so you press a finger to your lips in order to quiet him down and step aside, finally breaking eye contact.

               You throw on whatever clothes you find lying around, not particularly interested in dressing fashionably so close to one in the morning, and grab a pair of sneakers to take downstairs. You tip toe through the house, making sure not to make too much noise in case you’ll wake someone up, and put on your shoes once you finally reach the front door. As quietly as the door will allow it, you step outside, the keys rattling as you drag them with you.

               You had expected to be greeted from afar, but you certainly didn’t expect to be held tightly against someone the second you stepped foot outside of the door. His touch his gentle, it always has been, but he holds you as tightly as he can without pushing it too far, craving the proximity it holds. You have to stop yourself from giggling, instead wrapping your arms around him in return, never as tightly, but just as lovingly.

               “I missed you.” He’s the first to speak, the words muffled against your skin from how he’s holding you, mumbled in a hurry, yet so clear to you. You tightened your arms around him in reaction to the sweet words, nodding your head in agreement. You missed him too, of course.

               “It has only been a few hours, Ko.” You murmur sweetly in return, though you’re not sure why. Neither of you care about technicalities, too immersed in each other to care about waking up early tomorrow, about seeing each other in a few hours anyway, about having parted ways not even four hours ago. Perhaps you say it teasingly, pushing his buttons just a little, just enough to hear the whine against your skin, enough to have you smile.

               He knows you’re right, of course, and he doesn’t take it personally. He does act accordingly to how he always does, however, making a big scene out of such a small fact. “And so what? I’m allowed to miss my baby, aren’t I? Did you not miss me?” He interrogates, and as you pull away to stare at him you notice the way his cheeks are ever so slightly puffed. You take notice of the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you, and of the way he doesn’t let go of your waist even after you’ve parted from your tight embrace.

               You can’t resist. You chuckle, breathless and faint, more than used to his silly outbursts. You lean forward, brushing your lips together for a mere second before both your eyes close, and you lose yourself all over again as you kiss. It’s not long, it doesn’t have to be, small kisses that end and restart quickly, one chasing after the other once and waiting for the opposite next time, and that seems to work wonders to distract him for a minute. “I always miss you.”

               He glows when you tell him that. It’s as if energy fills up his body completely, and all he can think about is you, and what he wants to do with you, and how he wants to keep you close for as long as possible in order to keep this feeling for as long as humanly possible. “Let’s go on a date!” He seems to have forgotten the time, because he has reverted back to talking in his usual tone. To be fair, you’re shocked he lasted more than a few seconds whispering.

               “When?”

               “Right now!”

               He speaks like you’re silly for asking, and truthfully you do feel a bit foolish. After all, it’s Bokuto, it’s no surprise he’d want a date in the middle of the night. Just like it’s no surprise he came to your house and broke a window instead of using his phone to let you know he was outside. So you go along with it, nodding your head in agreement. And that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s dragging you along, your fingers interlocked as you walk around the empty streets.

               “You feel like having boba right now?”

               That’s enough to have you laugh a little harder, though you’re still trying to stay as quiet as possible as you walk through the many houses on the street. His words are enough to have you recognise the path you’re taking, to the boba store he works at. It’s a part-time thing, a way to get a little more money, but he seems to think working there makes him an expert at making the drink. In reality, he’s just a server. You remember one time before the place opened he insisted you showed  up to get a free drink, and you had both ended up having to clean the place in a hurry from the big mess he made.

               “Why are you laughing? I can totally do it this time!”

               You’re laughing again, but it’s by no means meant to be mocking. The memory makes you happy, and although cleaning had been extremely stressful since you were on a deadline, his presence had made it all worth it. It always does, really. “No reason. I’d love some.”

               He beams, energised all over again. You can’t exactly remember when, but you’ve started running instead of walking. Well, he started running, and your interlocked hands make it so you have to chase after him. However, it’s not the hands that force a smile to spread across your lips – that’s just the aura he oozes, the bright happy glow surrounding him and slowly surrounding you as well, the warm feeling in your chest whenever you see him smile.  

               You eventually make it to the small shop, and after a few seconds of fumbling with the keys – probably from being overly excited – Bokuto manages to open the door, stepping inside and turning the lights on. You like seeing the shop like this, completely deserted, the only sounds being your footsteps echoing through the room, followed by a loud gasp from you.

               Your boyfriend is insane, he has to be insane.

               You glance away from the scene in front of you, instead glancing at him for any sort of explanation – but he’s just smiling, he’s just showing you the same big grin you’ve grown attached to, gesturing around towards the table as if your attention should be on it and not on the amazing person next to you.

               It might be sleep deprivation, it might be the shock, but you feel like crying. Your legs don’t want to move, and yet somehow they do, both at the same time. The latter seems to win, and you catch yourself running towards your boyfriend, wrapping your arms tightly around him. For the first time in your relationship, you might be squeezing harder than he is.

               “I told you; I missed you.”

               You pinch his side in order to shut him up, but that only manages to push him further. He pulls back a little forcefully – not that he doesn’t like the embrace, but he really wants to see your face right now. His grin hasn’t been wiped off, you doubt it will be anytime soon, and he’s eagerly searching for any reaction. You grin widely, mirroring him, and glance back at the table again.

               You don’t know when he had the time to prepare it, if he had done it himself or if he had asked someone for help. What you do know, however, is that somehow the two slices of cake are aligned perfectly with the table cloth, and that the flowers’ soft colours are the same shade as the two drinks next to the cake, and you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of effort, planning and dedication it must have taken him to surprise you like this.

               He seems a little hesitant, seeing your wide eyes staring at the arrangement, so he starts fidgeting in his place. “Too much?”

               “Just perfect.” You blurt out quickly, not letting him doubt himself for a second. You move enough to rest your forehead to his, noses brushing together as you do, and your eyes close, finding comfort in his embrace all over again. You smile for good measure just before you mumble again. “You’re perfect.”

               That seems to calm him down, and you stay in the same spot for just a few seconds before dragging him towards the table, pulling the table for him to sit down. You laugh at the way this seems to offend him – not because he thinks it should be the other way around, but because he wants it to be the other way around.

               Bokuto knows you spoil him. You take care of him, you help him through his bad times, you listen as he talks and talks about volleyball, as he rushes out his words, as he’s all over the place all the time, as he breaks your window and drags you down a few streets just because he misses you. So, in these moments, he wants to spoil you in return.

               You jump in your seat as he starts playing some heavy metal song on his phone, and he seems to be startled as well, if the shriek he lets out is any indication. His phone gets thrown half way across the room – as if that would quiet down the noise – and he’s soon chasing after it, managing to pick the right playlist instead of whatever he just clicked on accident.

               “That was part of the plan. I needed an excuse to come over here to get the candles.” He rushes out, and although he doesn’t expect you to believe it, you nod your head in understanding, agreeing to his silly story for the sake of making him happy. After a few minutes, he does manage to find a single candle, only to realise he didn’t bring any matches or a lighter.

               It’s a little comical; such a romantic setting to the left, but your eyes are focused on the right as your boyfriend awkwardly – and very nervously, one might add – tries to light the candle with one of those oven lighters from the kitchen,  managing after about three neverminds and four yells. And yet, somehow, it’s still romantic. Because it’s him. That’s just how he always will be.

               When he comes back, you both chat a little, taking in this precious moment you have with each other. It doesn’t bother you when the clock strikes three in the morning, it doesn’t matter that you’ll not get a good night’s rest, it doesn’t even worry you that someone might notice you’re not home.

               As you lie together on one of the small couches, barely fitting, having to hold onto each other for dear life, you conclude there’s no other place you’d rather be. There’s no clean room with no broken windows that would make you want to leave this place, that would make you forget this feeling.

               He feels the same.

               And if you aren’t sure, just in case, he turns to you in order to whisper it.

               “Thank you for loving me, Y/N.”

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*

taglist: @cleopatera​ ; @kunimi-bby​ ; @snazzieyama​

[littlebigafterdark]

patton's asthma attack and finally agreeing to try therapy

content warnings: hurt/comfort, detailed description of asthma attack, very brief mention of past eating disorder, crying (i always hav that tho)

i copy pasted this from mine and livs discord convo so thats why it might be formatted weird and i swear a lot also if you see "hhh yeah" then thats liv commenting hshshsh

patton has had a cough the past few days because BASICALY since priscilla (remys cat) visited hes been more breathless with his asthma but he didnt tell anyone bc he doesnt want to worry them or make it so vee never get to see priscilla again if she cant visit anymore

so his asthma is acting up but he ignores it - and hes had asthma cough for a couple days (which is a sign of an incoming asthma attack) but again hes ignoring it, hes so used to brushing off symptoms he doesnt click what it means and he diesn ttake his inhaler when he needs it

WAAAHH oh fuck oh my god oh god wait fuck i just realised

the moment patton gets his asthma attack its saturday afternoon, roman is little and playing with logan and vee isnt quite little yet but fae's on faer way there, fae is very giggly and playful and patton says "okay babygirl, lets go get you changed!"

and when he gets up from the couch he takes a moment to cough and just stand still a sec bc he got suddenly dizzy but he pushed through it to not worry vee, and he actually usually lifts her onto his hip straight away, but this time he very subtly is like "okay hold daddys hand while we walk to the stairs"

so they get to the stairs and patton of course lifts vee up, and theyre only a few steps up when pattons breathing gets really heavy. it makes vee frown and look at him and say "daddy am i heavy?"

and patton smiles and shakes his head, because hes too breathless to speak. but he pushes through and hurries up as fast as possible

once theyre at the top of the stairs, patton is wheezing. his chest is rattling and whistling and he suddenly loses his smile and quickly hurries away from the stairs to place vee gently on the hallway floor, and as soon as vee is safe patton wobbily sinks to his knees and leans his head against the wall. his eyes shut tight trying so so hard to breath but its realy whistly now

and vee of course panics. "dady? papa are you okay??" and whimpers when patton doesnt react and clutches at his chest

and it throws her out of her semi regression. she jumps up and hurries downstairs, a little wobbily but ultimately fine. and she speints to where logan and riman are and yells "daddys h havin a panic attack!" and instantly starts crying

logan and roman were in the middle of a game and smiling and laughing but as SOON as they hear that they jump into action. logan runs out of the room to go to patton and roman grows up and runs to vee and lifts her up to shush her cries and calm her down - they dont even share a single look before they do this, they both just instinctively know what to do

and logan of course finds patton and realises its an asthma attack not a panic attack - he goes into his emergency like emotionless mode where he just gets the job done. he asks clearly where patton keeps his inhaler and patton just shakes his head. so logan alarmed asks "you dont have a reliever inhaler??" and patton winces and shakes his head again.

logan sprints to his room into his bedside drawer to find tthe inhaler he keeps for emergencies double checking it hasnt expired

he sits with his legs around patton, patton leaned back agains his torso, and puffs pattons inhaler for him and times the attack and the puffs (knowing that if it isnt better after ten puffs and fifteen minutes they have to call an ambulance) and using his own deep breaths against pats back to help him recalibrate his breathing

luckily it only lasts 8 and a half minutes and 8 puffs - but logan is so so shaken about the fact that that was very close to requiring medical assistance, he had his ohone out ready to dial 911

once pattons attack is over he's finally breathing, short and deep at first gasping in the oxygen, but within a few more minutes of sitting against logan it slows down and is much calmer. hes very shaky because the reliever inhaler does that to you, and weak from the tax on his body, so logan helps him up into their nearest bedroom (pattons)

at first he calls roman to swap places with him and watch over patton hust so logan can change vee into a diaper since she regressed from fear as soon as roman picked her up and obv he cant change her diaper

so roman sits with patton while logan does that and roman is actually really quiet and awkward and nervous, just looking wide eyed at patton and hugging himself.

and patton feels bad abt that and whispers "its okay little prince, daddys not hurt. im sorry for scaring you, honey" and roman just chews his lip and nods and looks down and they dont talk again until logan is back and roman goes out to take care of vee and logan comes in to lie with patton and rub his chest soothingly

logan is distressed and frustrated and shaken at that point but he knows not to have their conversation until the next day bc patton will be emotionally and physically exhausted

but the next day they have a serious talk - logans pretty ANGRY that patton was so ignorant of his wellbeing that he didnt refill his inhaler, patton brushes it off but logan says its a good thing he secretly kept one for patton (bc he almost suspected this might happen)

it rly hits patton when logan tells him if he had needed anymore puffs than he took they wouldve had to phone an ambulance - like patton not wanting to worry his family by admitting his asthma was acting up backfired way more and has made them worry even more because he had a full attack that could have gone so much worse

the whole conversation is VERY stern and serious even at the start when patton smiles and chuckles and jokes and brushes it off logan just gets frustrated and upset. logan is SO angry literally he is glaring at patton when patton brushes it off and makes jokes abt it and he snaps.

logan actually very seriously tells patton this is self harm and patton goes WHAT nonono no its not i dont know why youre getting so worked up

and logan fucking SNAPS like "Youre not giving your body what it needs to survive because you dont think your worth that!! you're neglecting your basic needs to the point of needing urgent medical care, doesnt that sound familiar??? doesnt that sound like something we've both been through before???" clearly referencing his eating disorder

and pattons eyes go wide and he profusely apologises hes like im so sorry oh my gosh logan honey im sorry did i trigger you im sorry and logans just like STOP APOLOGISING this isnt about me its about you!

and he sso angry bc he thought they trusted each other but the fact that patton didnt tell him when he literally couldnt breathe is so scary to logan

but that is basically an argument bc logan was so fucking worried and devastated that patton has ignored his health to such an extent and vee gets nervous bc both her and roman can hear them yelling and she thinks the cgs will breakup bc they "had a fight"

but once theyre finished talking and vee shakily asks if theyre not gonna be a family anymore they'll of course comfort faer and talk abt it, its not a fight its a disagreement and mummys and daddys have those sometimes. theyre still a family and they still love each other very very much. they all soend their family day together as usual, though patton isnt as able to get up and play with roman understandably

also the fact this all comes around the same week patton and logan tell vee that janus wants to babysit, thats why patton has been absent from the blog recently i guess bc hes been keeping busy trying to work through his feelings of janus wanting to come in

hhh yeah... the way it lines up to patton's other insecurities abt janus coming into the family and it all just piles on too much all at once

so on monday morning logan goes with patton to get more inhalers and they actually stay out for while like they go to a forest or smth just to be alone and help patton recenter a little - he's always loved being in nature, it really brings him a lot of peace, being in nature is really the best way to keep patton grounded from his dissociation, thats why hes always gardening

and logan doesnt want to be angry at him and he knows patton needs support and comfort atm even is patton doesnt think he does so they have a calm day just being together and logan trying to remind patton that hes there for him

HHH stop bc they YEAH bc they kinda had a fight even though it did get 'resolved' but they needed to take time to reconnect their energies and like show each other (and specifically logan show patton) that their love is still secure and their friendship is still strong - just the quiet care of logan taking patton somewhere they can just be alone without responsibilities

secretly patton was rlly upset that logan got angry with him but he didnt show it but logan KNOWS him and he knows he needs to fix it with queality time (pats love lang) because pattons been alone a lot recently, its just been that he keeps busy and accidentaly distanced himself bc the others would all be busy and hanging out in some way and he fet a bit abandoned but yeah logan is dedicating the whole day to him

and patton does end up talking abt his inner turmoil a little but not until theyre like in the middle of the forest and hes a lot calmer and theres no one around, he just feels so much calmer and safer in nature to open up like that.

and this is when patton tells logan about his worries about janus becoming closer to vee, and how its lovely for them but what if it hurts vee, what if they dont get along, what if they DO get along and vee wants to move back with janus. Logan doesnt say anything to the worries, he knows patton just needs to blurt them out while he can, while it mixes with the sounds of nature.

then patton mentions quietly that dr picani phoned him a couple weeks ago and told him that he would like to offer patton a trial session of therapy - not with vee, just patton. logan very calmly asks if that sounds like sometnging that might be helpful for patton and patton just giggles nervously "um i dont know. Vee has therapy"

logan frowns. "yes she does. but that doesnt mean you cant have it too, if you would like it"

patton goes quiet and looks anxious, scratching at the moss on the log theyve sat down on. so logan takes his hand and looks very earnestly at him and says gently "i would like you to at least accept the trial session. It is your decision but... i think it might be worth a try"

patton nods a little, just looking at their intertwined fingers. and after a long silence where they can just hear the birds tweeting and the wind rustling the leaves and small animals scurrying along the grass, patton finally looks up at logan and breathes "i'll go to therapy"

and when patton says that out loud suddenly his eyes well up and he sees logan smile at him - a little sad and a lot proud - and feels his hand squeeze and the tears just dont stop coming and he hides his eyes but laughs nervously like haha dont know why im crying this is so silly! but logan doesnt say anything to it, he just pulls patton into his side and rests his head on pattons head...

and patton keeps trying to laugh and joke but its so choked and sad and nervous and wet and logan wraps his other arm around patton too and just grntly whispers "pumpkin, its okay if youre not happy right now."

and patton just starts sobbing into logans shoulder and logan holds him so tight as they sit on the log

patton cant cope with silence when its about him yknow, he couldnt handle logan not laughing or tutting at his jokes so he just kept joking until logan insisted its ok to be sad

so once they get home logan sits with pstton while he phones dr picani and books his first solo therapy session for friday morning

[plxnet-superior]

Old wounds never heal - 1/2

Anon Ask: “Hi, I am so sorry to hear abt. Ur cat sweetie. If Ur still looking 4 dat prompt U asked abt. last night might I suggest reader is a timelady/timelord who knew the doctor and the master back on Gallifrey. She somehow gets looped into the whole Kasavin mess and there's just ANGST. (You could change this if you want too, I hope you feel better)”

I’m kinda not happy with how I wrote this one, but I hope you enjoy, I have plans for the next one, might take me a while though. Thank you again for the ask!

A shrill ring throughout the Tardis, and everyone but the Doctor jumps.

"What is that?" Yaz, as always, is the first to question from the other side of the console.

"Better question Yaz, who is that?" The time lord stares at the phone on the console in hesitation. "No one's meant to know the number for the tardis." Her companions look between each other, and Ryan shrugs, before one of them decides to pipe up.

"Well pick it up then! Whoever it is, they might need our help. Does say it on the outside of your blue box anyway, Doc." Graham had a good point, but she was still cautious. She hadn't had a true call come through in god knows how long, so of course, the suspicion was natural as she brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" There was a pause, and a thankful sigh on the other end of the line.

"Doctor, hello! Do you know how hard it is to find the number for this thing? Really need to work on that." Whoever you are, you're ranting down the phone about how bad her Tardis design must be to barely have a connection, let alone a working phone number. She doesn't appreciate it, but the ease at which you complain about her blue box feels largely familiar.

"Right, sorry, but who are you?" There was a light hint of offense in her tone, to which you couldn't help but smile. You knew you had the right number at least, no other time lord would get so defensive over you insulting their ship.

"An old friend, and we have a lot to discuss."

-

You'd landed in Australia, and, from the doctors explanations, it had seemed like quite a lot had gone down on your way here. Something about light beings and mi6, which to be fair, made your adventures look like a cozy night in with a cup of tea (which, let's be honest, most of them were).

Her companions were quite a lively bunch, too. Yaz, the plucky young police woman looking for adventure, and something more interesting than a mundane life. Ryan, arguably quieter than the rest, but not unsure of himself, and certainly not stupid. Then Graham, the oldest of the three, grandad to Ryan and the realist of the group, you could tell he wasn't as much one for the danger in this life.

Your introduction was brief, but it didn't take you long to get to know them with how welcoming they all seemed.

"I thought me and the master were the only ones left..." The doctor looked tired, haggard even, a very different face from the last time you'd seen the time lord, before the fall of Gallifrey. You both sat on the porch, away from the others, drinking something that was probably iced tea but definitely didn't taste like it.

"I guess you rubbed off on me too much...I followed your advice, in the end. Stole a tardis and ran off before all hell broke loose. I take it you know what happened after that?" She nodded. Your home planet was gone one moment, back the next, and neither of you knew what to think anymore. "But...doctor, there's something you should know..."

You didn't have the time, ironically, because 'O' had burst out the front door rattling off something about a code, and then the doctor was back in action, giving you a hand up. "We can continue this little chat later, yeah? It'll be nice to work with another time lord again."

"Likewise, Doctor."

-

The energy around the Doctor was not something you were used to anymore. Always on high, this little adventure was definitely something bigger than you'd all imagined.

Especially since she'd made you get all dressed up to infiltrate a party, bit extra in your opinion, but, you assumed, necessary.

'O' was the most interesting of the Doctors friends, that much you had noticed in the brief moments spent getting to know everyone.

"So...you're like her then?"

"Like who?"

"The doctor. You're a time lord aswell?"

"Yeah, basically." You shrugged. "Two hearts, all of my own, and a Tardis to boot... Why?" The mi6 agent seemed to be way more intrigued in your origins than you'd expected, but you guessed that's what came with having such an infatuation with the Doctor. He did own a whole shelf full of information about her, after all.

Although, you'd admit, the attention you'd gained from him wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"Sorry if that offended you...it's just, she said she was the last of her kind." You hadn't meant to come off as defensive with your question, but you did find your gaze drifting back to the other time lord at his words. It's never an easy life running from a past you can't change, even more so when you're by yourself.

"No, you didn't offend me, sorry, not used to people asking questions about me, that's all," you brushed it off calmly before carrying on, "I guess that's what she believed, and to be honest, I almost believed I was the last aswell,"

The agent was very attentive, listening to your every word, and you were really starting to understand the Doctors weird affinity for humans, "spent years trying to find her again, I'd almost given up... Maybe fate just has a funny way of bringing people together when they need them the most."

"Huh. That's a... nice way of looking at it."

-

This was...not what you were expecting. At all. Finding the Doctor was one thing, but finding the Master? Disguised as 'O'? That was...something else entirely, and suddenly, all of his previous questions were beginning to make sense.

"So this is what you do now? After everything!? What the hell happened between you two while I was gone!?" The Doctors got her sonic trained on the bomb, trying to slow it down atleast, and the Master's yelling in the background.

"Now, do you really think I would not make that sonic proof, Doctor!? Come on!"

"We...had a falling out! We can talk about it later, I dont know!" The Doctor's getting more wound up as the countdown doesn't stop. The Master tells you it's 'deadlock sealed, No parachutes on board'. This wasn't the same time lord you knew back on gallifrey at all, no, he was something else entirely, feeding off the chaos, and the wild look in his eyes only served to confirm it.

"Well this looks like quite the falling out to me!!" You argue back, settling once again into your old habit of calling her out after all these years.

Yaz is the only one of the Doctors companions to fire off a question despite the situation. This girl was starting to grow on you with her fiery attitude. Barton's gone, so this is definitely a death trap after all.

"Stick with me, Yaz, cos I control...everything. Even these guys." A snap of his fingers, and a spin. Dramatic, of course. That's his getaway ticket, and your cue to haul the Doctor out of the cockpit by her suit jacket, slamming the door shut behind you. The blast throws you both, and you know you're braced above her, but there's no time for embarrassment. Instead, you're glad to have atleast shielded her from the brunt of it.

However, now the plane's going down, and the Master just has to get the last word in.

"Everything you think you know... is a lie. Got you, finally." There's the split second after that last laugh, he's about to teleport, whisked away by his new 'friends', but you kick up from your position and practically leap over the Doctor to get to him in time.

You're not letting him go. Not now. Not without answers.

Your hand comes down on his arm.

You both faze out.

Checkmate.