#i promise i normally write better but this was self indulgent and i needed to get something out

[slaybestieslay946]

Everything About You - Luke Castellan

Summary: You've been Luke Castellan's closest friend ever since he arrived at camp, but unbeknownst to you, he's been desperately crushing on you this whole time. And of course, the feelings are reciprocated. In hopes of getting over you, he agrees to give it a go with someone else. Will he realise how you feel before its too late?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares!Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: uh sorry for shitting on that demeter girl sm, there needed to be some conflict somewhere

also please forgive me for this fic being crazy self-indulgent and therefore not up to par with my usual writing, i needed to express the obsession i have w this man otherwise I'd go INSANE

MASTERLIST

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You thought you knew everything about Luke Castellan. 

After 5 years of being best friends, how could you not? You knew about the big things in his life, his damaged mother, the strained relationship with his father. You understood his anger towards the gods, the way it fuelled him to be better, work harder. 

You knew about the little things too. He liked green olives, not black ones. He always stuck his leg out from under the duvet when sleeping. He sucked at tightening his armour, always convincing you to do it for him.

You could recognise each and every one of his tells. He always cracked his knuckles before sparring. He scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous. 

But the one thing you didn’t know about him was the way he felt about you. You, who was normally so observant, was entirely oblivious to the gentle touches and soft looks he threw your way. And that, more than anything, was driving him crazy. 

��You gotta tell her how you feel man.” Chris said to him, noticing the way his gaze would constantly stray to the Ares table. Your table.

Luke scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d rather die…” 

“Yeah, well it’s driving me nuts. All this pining. It’s-”

“Pathetic? Tell me about it.” He responded, not taking his eyes off you. 

“Well, yeah. It’s pathetic. At this point, either confess your undying love, or move on.”

Luke could safely say that neither of those options sounded particularly appealing. 

“There’s that new girl, y’know the one in Demeter?” Chris continued.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty cute, don’t you think?” 

Luke tore his gaze away from you to look at the girl Chris was on about. She was pretty, sure, with pale blond hair and flushed cheeks. He recognised her as one of the girls that would always sit in the fields and entertain the kids with her flower magic. But still, she couldn’t hold a candle to you. 

“Yeah, she’s fine I guess.” Luke responded, noncommittal.

“See, told you so! Look, how about I set you guys up-”

“No thanks.” 

“Ugh, you're no fun. Fine, just talk to the Demeter girl at the campfire tomorrow.” 

Luke opened his mouth again to refuse, but Chris cut him off. 

“And if you do, I’ll stop bugging you about it. Promise.” 

Luke looked at his pleading face, and knew that there would be no shutting him up until he agreed. 

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.” 

*

The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than normal, so he figured he might as well get some extra training in before capture the flag in the afternoon. 

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his many, sleeping, half-siblings, and grabbed his sword, stepping out of the cabin into the fresh morning air. He jogged down towards the amphitheatre, and was confused for a moment when he could hear movement inside the small arena. 

Then, as he walked closer to the entrance, he realised it was you, slashing dummies left right and centre. And, gods, the sight took his breath away. 

The early morning sun shone on your face, highlighting your sharp features. You moved like a dancer, and the sword in your hand was merely an extension of your body. Yes, they called him the best swordsman in the last 300 years, but his technique couldn’t compare to the grace of the favourite daughter of Ares. 

He watched you for a few more minutes, standing just in the entrance to the amphitheatre, until he realised it might be a little creepy to stand there and watch you, so he decided to make himself known. 

“What are you doing up so early?” He called out, striding forwards towards you. 

You quickly spun around, a shocked expression on your face that softened into a fond smile when you realised it was just Luke who had snuck up on you. 

“Oh, y’know, just preparing to beat your ass later on.”

“Aw, really? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance.” 

“Wanna test that, soldier?” You smirked, gesturing to the sword in this hand.

Luke laughed, stabbing the sword into the sandy floor and cracking his knuckles, meanwhile you took up an offensive stance. 

And, as soon as he picked up his sword, you were on him, ruthlessly slashing through the air, and he barely had enough time to block the blow before you sliced through his face. He returned your strikes with equal vigour, moving with the precision and technique that he was so famous for. 

With the way the pair of you fought, anyone would think you hated one another, trading blow for violent blow, both of you refusing to hold back. 

Of course, it was the complete opposite, but that had never stopped the pair of you from sparring so aggressively. 

The session went on for close to half an hour, neither of you wanting to surrender to the other. Eventually you were bested, as Luke sent your sword flying from your hand, holding his own up to your throat. 

You held your hands up in defeat, rolling your eyes at him, before moving to sit down at the edge of the arena. 

“I’m still gonna win in capture the flag today.” You remarked, your voice strained from physical exercise, but jovial nonetheless. 

“As talented as you are,” He responded, sitting down next to you, “You're not gonna be able to beat Annie’s new strategy.” 

“And what might that be?” You said, shuffling closer to the boy. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased. 

You pretended to sulk at that, turning your body away from him in the process. Luke frowned, pulling your arm to turn you to face him again. 

“Don’t be sad. Even if I told you you still wouldn’t win.” 

“Whatever. Asshole.” You mumbled. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, accusatory, and you quickly made your escape, running out of the amphitheatre to avoid his wrath. 

But, of course, he managed to catch up with you easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked. 

Somehow, you both telepathically communicated a need for breakfast, and your feet naturally led you both to the pavilion. 

“I’ll see you later on, yeah?” You asked, detaching yourself from him to look him in the eyes. 

“Mhm. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

You laughed, cocking your head at him, “Why are you thinking about my ass Castellan? Bit weird.” 

And then you were striding away towards Clarisse, leaving the Hermes cabin counsellor frozen, a faint blush covering his face. 

Maybe Chris was right. His addiction to you was getting slightly out of hand. 

*

“That boy is so obsessed with you.” Clarisse muttered, her voice derisive as you sat down opposite her. 

“Who? Luke?”

“Who else?” 

“Nah, no way.” You responded, chuckling as you grabbed a slice of toast from the centre of the table. 

Clarisse rolled her eyes. How oblivious could you be?

“Whatever. As long as your little romance doesn’t get in the way this afternoon.” 

“No chance. Besides, there is no romance. Gods, you’re just as bad as Silena!” You laughed, slightly sheepishly. 

“Rude. But still, she’s right about these things like 90% of the time.”

Silena had been trying to get you to admit that you liked Luke for months, but each time she brought it up you would staunchly deny it. Of course, you were lying through your teeth, but it’s not like you could just admit something like that. It would open up a whole can of worms that you didn’t need. 

“Yeah, well this is the 10% then.” You shrugged, taking another bite of your toast.

“You’re impossible.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I’m your favourite sibling.” 

“You were my favourite. I don’t know anymore.” 

“Bitch.”  

*

When Ares and Hermes were on opposing teams, suddenly capture the flag became even more serious. 

Ares, of course, was the warrior cabin. Their father was the god of war, making them the most feared in combat. And, most of Camp half-blood was scared shitless of you and Clarisse.

Then there was Hermes, and their automatic alliance with Athena. That meant they had Luke, the camp's star swordsman, and Annabeth and her siblings, who always came up with the best strategies. 

It was safe to say that when they weren’t competing against each other, it was painfully boring. 

You only had about half an hour before the game started, so after you had secured your armour and recovered your sword from the amphitheatre, you decided to seek out Annabeth, both because you enjoyed her company, and because she may spill something about her new strategy. 

“Hey, Annabeth!” You called out, and the young girl spun around to give you a little smile. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how things are going over here, y’know, scope out the competition.”

“I’m not gonna tell you our strategy.” She deadpanned. 

“Damnit. Oh well. What’ve you been up to, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

It was true, you hadn’t spoken to Annabeth for a few days, nor had you even seen her.

“She’s been too busy stalking the new kid.” Luke’s voice interjected and he stepped out of seemingly nowhere to pat the girl's head. 

“Shut up! No I haven’t.” She sulked, pushing him off of her. 

“Wait, which new kid is this? Percy?” You asked. 

You’d seen Luke show the boy around camp. You’d been briefly introduced, but you hadn’t spoken to him all that much. The only other thing you knew about him was that Clarisse had a bit of an issue with him. Well, she had an issue with a lot of people, so that wasn’t exactly new. 

“Yep. Can you believe it? My little sister has a crush!” Luke exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest. 

Annabeth then gave him a small shove, before something clearly occurred to her, and she gave him that look that meant she had something on him. And whatever the blackmail was, it worked as he immediately held his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry, sorry! You could never like a boy, I know that!”

Annabeth didn’t respond, simply glaring at him whilst you laughed. Sometimes, she really was intimidating. Despite being only 12 years old, she had a stare harsher than medusa. 

“Anyway. You need to get going, otherwise you're definitely gonna lose.” Luke said, pushing you away by your breastplate. 

“Fine.” You said, and were about to walk away when you noticed his own armour, as usual, wasn't done up properly. 

You walked back towards him, sighing, and grabbed the straps on either side of his body, pulling them taut, doing the same for the guards on his forearms. 

“You seriously need to learn how to do these yourself, soldier. One day, I might not be here to do them for you.”

“That’s not true. You’ll always be with me.” He whispered, more hopeful than certain about his statement.

You just rolled your eyes, grabbing his helmet out of his hands to push it on his head. 

“There. Can’t have someone hurting your pretty face, can we?”

“Uh-”

“Bye, have fun losing!” You laughed, and then you were walking away, once again leaving a malfunctioning Luke in your wake. 

“And you say I have a crush.” Annabeth snorted. 

“Shut up.” 

*

Pretty much as soon as you made it back to your team, the conch sounded, and Clarisse shouted at you to ‘get your ass over here’. 

She then quickly outlined her plan to you as you both made your way deeper into the woods, the rest of your team splitting off at different points as you went. 

You two, as well as a few others, were to be on the offensive, searching for the flag, meanwhile the rest of your team were either guarding the flag, or serving as distractions. It was a pretty typical strategy, but it had every chance of working, as long as you two were able to work out roughly where the other team's flag was. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t be at Zeus’ fist this time, that’s where Annabeth put it last time, and apparently she has a new strategy.” 

“She could be lying to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s a place to start.” Clarisse reluctantly agreed, and the two of you moved further into the woods. 

Along the way you came across a few of the blue team on border patrol, and the pair of you quickly disarmed them, you with your sword, and Clarisse with her electric staff. 

You made your way down to the south edge of the woods, and it appeared that the number of blue troops were decreasing. Normally you would take that as meaning the flag wasn’t this way, but knowing Annabeth that could be some kind of purposeful bluff, so you kept going, until eventually you reached a dead end and had to choose a different direction. 

“Ugh, the others better be closer than us I swear. I’m not losing again.” Your sibling said, batting aside a tree branch with her crackling staff. 

“Yeah. I’m sick of having to listen to Castellan gloat.” You sighed, although the noise was more fond than anything else. 

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your inability to keep him out of a conversation. 

Then, there was a sudden noise of people crashing through the trees. You both raised your weapons, ready to defend yourselves, when you realised that they wore red helmets and were in fact, your siblings. 

“Oi, Clarisse, we heard some of them talking that they’ve got the flag down at the creek! And that brat Jackson’s guarding it!”

You noticed the way Clarisse’s eyes filled with anger (and a little bloodlust). 

“You keep going,” She said, “I’ll check it out with them.” She then patted you on the back and spun around, sprinting off into the woods. 

“DUMBASS! IT’S PROBABLY A TRAP!” You yelled, cupping your free hand to your mouth, but either she didn’t hear you, or she didn’t care, because she gave no response. 

You sighed, unable to believe how gullible your sister could be sometimes. But, you had nothing better to do than keep searching for the flag, so you kept walking, slashing through the undergrowth with your sword as you went.  

Eventually you felt like you had covered the entire forest, and at a certain point you weren’t entirely sure if you were still in enemy territory or not. 

That was until Luke Castellan burst into the clearing holding your flag. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smirked. 

“Asshole.” You snapped, immediately leaping at him, sword in hand, just as you had during sparring that morning. God he loved your temper. 

You then began to battle one another with even more zeal than earlier, your slashes quicker and your blows harder as you moved. It was strange the way you two sparred, it was like as soon as you were in combat you forgot that he was your closest friend and that you would die for him in a heartbeat. Instead all you could think about was winning. 

He was so annoyingly graceful as he moved, each swish of his sword perfectly calculated to hit at a certain spot, each block and parry almost perfectly executed. 

Of course, your anger at his flawless technique was only further intensified when you realised that one: he didn’t have a shield, and two: he was holding his sword in his non-dominant hand, with the flag in his dominant one. 

You ground your teeth at that. How could you expect to ever beat him if he held his own so easily? Whenever you watched Luke Castellan fight, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was a son of Hermes, and not a son of Athena or Ares.

And, as always, he defeated you eventually. 

He threw a blow at you that you couldn’t quite block, and the force of it sent you toppling backwards, and landing on your ass. He quickly lunged down too, pinning you to the floor and holding his sword to your throat, so close that it almost broke skin. 

“Do you surrender?” He asked, grinning smugly down at you, and you couldn’t help but notice just how close his face was to yours. 

“Never.” You spat, furrowing your eyebrows at him. 

He sighed fondly, before moving upwards to press a quick kiss to your forehead and saying, “You’re so cute, y’know that?” 

Now it was your turn to be left malfunctioning, your face bright red with astonishment as he leapt off of you, and ran away into the forest, leaving you behind, on the floor, and completely and utterly frozen. 

And then you came back to your senses, pushing yourself off the floor and chasing after him. 

“LUKE CASTELLAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You screamed, sprinting through the woods as fast as you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to catch up, and you could faintly hear him laughing as those stupid long legs carried him over into friendly territory. 

*

It appeared that a lot had happened during that game of capture the flag. 

Luke had gotten your flag, and was about to go over and taunt Clarisse about it, but he immediately saw that she was even angrier than usual, and seemed genuinely upset. 

He quickly went over to ask Annabeth what was going on, watching as you ran over to console her. 

“Percy broke her staff.” She said, pointing to the shattered piece of wood in Clarisse’s right hand. 

Luke winced. He knew how precious the girl was about that staff; it was the only token she had from her father. He was surprised Percy was even still breathing right now. 

“Wait, where is Percy?” Luke asked.

“With Chiron. He got claimed.”

“What? By who-?”

“Posiedon.”

The boy’s jaw dropped. 

“You’re joking. No fucking way.”

“Tell me about it. He could be the one, Luke.” The younger girl said, her voice quiet and hopeful. 

“Hm. He could be. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, yeah?” 

Annabeth sighed, but nodded nonetheless. 

Luke then gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, before beginning to walk away, intending to get a shower in before dinner, but Annabeth quickly stopped him in his tracks. 

“Where are you going? It’s dinner, silly!” 

“What, no it’s not-” 

“Yes, it is. Campfire tonight, remember? Early dinner? C’mon, you’ve only been here for what, five years?” 

Luke groaned, and suddenly all the adrenaline from Percy being claimed, and from winning capture the flag melted away, as he remembered the deal he had made with Chris the night before. 

He traipsed behind the daughter of Athena on the way to the dining pavilion, suddenly dreading the rest of the evening. 

As the pair entered the building, a cheer went up from the Hermes and Athena table, a few of their respective siblings rushing over to give them pats on the back and congratulations for their efforts. 

Luke laughed along with them, eventually being dragged away from his sister to his own table. 

Then dinner began, and it was as loud and raucous as usual, maybe even more so coming off the back of a capture the flag victory. But Luke was unusually quiet, pushing his food around his plate and taking the odd sullen bite. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him, probably pissed off he was sulking again, but he didn’t really care. 

He could also feel another gaze on him, and he looked up, expecting it to be you, giving him a feeble glare or mouthing some stupid insult. But instead it was the girl from the Demeter table, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him. 

The boy felt slightly disappointed, but masked it with a grin of his own, winking at the girl before returning to his food. 

He felt that strange sinking feeling in his stomach as he continued to eat, but decided to push it away. What choice did he have? It’s not like you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so maybe Chris was right and he should give someone else a chance. Besides, how bad could it be?

*

As it turned out, it could be really bad. 

Ok, maybe that was an overstatement. Really boring was probably more accurate. 

As soon as they got to the campfire, Chris disappeared, but not before practically shoving Luke down beside the girl from Demeter, who let out a high-pitched giggle as he fell into her slightly. 

And gods he wished he hadn’t agreed to his friends stupid plan. Because he then had to spend the rest of the evening being obnoxiously flirted with. And sure, she was nice, and quite pretty, but not in the way that mattered. 

She didn’t take his breath away like you did. He couldn’t imagine searching for her face in a crowd. The whole thing was just dull. 

And her laughter was grating. Really grating. There was no way she thought he was that funny, especially when he was giving mostly one word responses. 

They had nothing in common. She liked lounging about in fields, playing games and making flower crowns, whereas Luke couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d much rather spend an afternoon sparring, or at archery, or even swimming in the lake. 

All the things you liked to do. 

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you, not whilst another girl was clamouring for his attention. It was cruel. But he couldn’t help himself. 

And eventually he gave in, switching off from the conversation and settling for observing you through the flames. 

Your hair was down right now, like it only ever was at dinners and in the early morning. You lounged back comfortably on the benches, smiling lazily and joking around with Clarisse and Silena. Your face was lit up by the flickering flames, complimenting you so well, like they just wanted to be near you, close to you. He couldn’t blame them. 

And then your eyes met his across the fire, and he thought his heart was about to combust with the way you smiled at him. He recognised that smile. It was the one you reserved just for him. 

At that moment he steeled his resolve to reject this Demeter girl, grab on to you and never let go. 

But as he was about to do just that, he felt a slender hand wrap around his bicep, and he turned to the blonde girl next to him. And without any warning, she reached up and kissed him, snaking her arms up and around his neck. 

He pulled away after a second, shock written all over his face. He quickly whipped around, looking to see if you saw that, praying that you hadn’t. 

But you had. And you seemed just as shocked as he was, except there was something else in your eyes. Hurt.

Why were you hurt?

*

As you walked away from the campfire, you couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question. Why were you so hurt?

You had known for years that your pathetic crush on Luke would never amount to anything. He was just way out of your league. Perfect in every way. 

He was so smart, and kind, and funny, and well-liked, and you just couldn’t compete with that. You were rough, and mean, and cruel, and angry. Why would he love someone like you? 

 Of course, you hadn’t seen the daughter of Demeter coming. But maybe you should’ve. She was everything Luke should want in a girl, gentle, sweet, feminine. Someone fit to be a girlfriend. 

And let's face it. You were much more skilled in matters of the sword than matters of the heart. 

You had always known this day would come. Eventually you’d have to let go of your best friend and come to terms with the fact that you weren’t the most important person in his life anymore (besides Annabeth). 

So why were you so devastated?

You reasoned that it had to be the shock. Yes, it was surprising, that’s why you were reacting like this, running away from the campfire like a child, foolishly hoping that he would come running after him, when of course he wouldn’t. He’d stay with his new girlfriend. 

“Hey!” 

You whipped around, shocked to see the very boy you were just pining after running up to you. 

“What?” You asked, snapping at him slightly, and immediately regretting it as he took on the look of a kicked puppy. 

“Why’d you run away from the campfire?” 

“Just needed some air.” 

“You sure? I mean you look kinda-”

“I’m fine! Just fine! Now you can go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!” You burst out, waving your hands around manically. 

He looked shocked by your sudden shouting, probably because you had only genuinely been angry with him about three times in your whole friendship. 

“Sorry. Just give me a minute, ok?” You said, your voice shuddering slightly. God it was pathetic, getting so worked up over a boy? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You then turned around and began to walk away, but didn’t get far before a hand grabbed yours pulling you back. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He said firmly.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even really know her name.” 

He then apparently realised how that sounded, because he quickly amended his statement. 

“Not like that. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like her like that. She just kinda grabbed me.” 

You stammered slightly, trying to regain composure. Right now you looked like a jealous loser, and while that is what you were, you didn’t want him to see you like that. 

“Ok cool. I don’t care, y’know. Kiss whoever you want, man, not my problem!” You laughed although it was painfully strained. 

“Again, not what I’m trying to say.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous. 

“So what are you-”

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you!” He rushed out, holding you by the shoulders and staring directly into your eyes to try and get his point across. 

“What?” You whispered, once again not able to believe your ears.

“I said I’m in love with you,” He repeated, slower this time, his voice more even, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have no idea. I was only talking to that girl ‘cause I thought I’d never have a chance with you. But then I realised that I don’t want some other girl. I only want you.” 

You took in a sharp intake of breath, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity. 

“You’re being serious?” You asked.

“Deadly serious.” He responded immediately, smiling sheepishly. 

You paused for a minute, before whispering, “I love you too.”

Only then did he finally make his move, holding you gently by the face and bending down to kiss you. 

And it was like a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. It was painfully cliche, and it felt like you were in some dumb rom com, but kissing him really was like fireworks going off all over your body. 

He clearly felt the same way, holding you by the back of the head and pulling you in further, closer, like he didn’t want to be apart from him ever again. 

Eventually you both pulled away for air, and he looked at you with a smile of pure joy, until the shock of the whole situation hit him. 

“Wait, so you really mean it?”

“I mean, I did just let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I had no idea you felt the same way.” You laughed, all the previous tension ebbing from your body. 

“What, really?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised. 

“Yes, really! How was I supposed to know? Besides, I didn’t think I was really your type.” 

At that his eyes practically bulged out of his head in shock, more so than any other time that night.

“Not my type? You’re entirely my type! Not like it matters anyway when you're the most perfect girl I’ve ever met in my life.” 

You frowned, “Now you're just lying to me, Luke.” 

“No I’m not. You're everything I’ve ever wanted. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” He said firmly.

You looked at him, still slightly doubtful, but he was determined to fix that. 

So he kissed you again, and suddenly all your doubts were swept away in his strong embrace as he kissed you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. 

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah. And, I guess you’re pretty great too.” 

He looked at you teasingly, daring you to elaborate, and for once you decided to stroke his ego. 

“Fine. You're the most handsome, funny, charming man I’ve ever met in my life.” 

That clearly satisfied him, because a wide grin wriggled its way across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror, because you both knew you meant every word.

“So does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” 

“Yes. I’d give you a hundred chances.” 

[vanillarosekiss]

To the beautiful person who left me this anon ask:

hi ria! I know you normally write femreader as girly or with a more feminine energy. But wdyt of John Price whose s/o is self conscious because she’s not as girly as the ladies who undoubtedly always surround him and maybe have made her he can do better than her ((totally not projecting lolz))

i’m so sorry i accidentally deleted your ask, but luckily I managed to copy it before! I really hope this finds you angel..♡

warnings: self depreciation, afab!reader x John Price, this one’s actually kinda sad guys sorry (happy ending though, i promise!!).

John Price had always been the kind of man who carried himself with a quiet confidence, commanding respect in every room he walked into. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried the weight of his responsibilities with ease — it was his unwavering calm, the type of presence that made you feel like the world could crumble, but he’d hold it together for you. He’d do anything for you.

You didn’t feel like you belonged in his orbit. You didn’t even feel like you belonged in the same room.

Not when he could have his pick of anyone. And not when the effortlessly gorgeous women you saw at his work functions or in photographs seemed to orbit him naturally.

They didn’t mean to make you feel small of course, but sometimes, they didn’t need to. Backhanded comments like, “Oh, she’s not quite what I expected for John,” or those lingering glances they shared when they thought you weren’t looking, planted seeds of doubt that grew roots in your chest. It hurt you more than you liked to admit.

You weren’t as polished, as composed, as these women. It wasn’t that you didn’t try… no, you just didn’t feel like you when you did. Dresses made you feel exposed. Heels left your feet aching. Even makeup was a practice you rarely indulged in because it didn’t feel worth the time or effort considering the little time you actually spent out.

And yet, John had still chosen you.

You were sitting on the couch with your knees pulled up, thumbing through your phone absentmindedly when John walked in. His heavy boots on the hardwood floor were a sound you’d grown to love, a comfort of such.

“Alright, love?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded quickly, plastering on a smile. “Yeah, fine.”

But John was too observant for his own good. He was extremely perceptive, his time in the force had made him a great reader of expressions. He tilted his head, scanning your face as he set his keys on the counter.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone laced with doubt.

You looked away, shrugging. “Just tired, s’all.”

“Not buying it.” He waited intently on your reply.

You hesitated. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Darlin’.” That single word was a command. You knew he was being serious.

You sighed, your voice wavering, threatening to crack despite your attempt to sound indifferent. “Do you ever… I dunno. Do you ever wish I were more like the women you’re surrounded by?”

His brow furrowed. “What women?”

“The ones at those events,” you muttered, gesturing vaguely. “They’re all so put together, and I’m-” You laughed bitterly. “Not.”

John leaned back slightly, his hand finding your thigh and gently resting there. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes steady. “Who’s been telling you all this?”

“No one,” you said quickly. “I just… I feel like they’re right sometimes. You could do better than me.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. John’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly before he pulled you into his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Do you know why I chose you?” he asked quietly.

Your throat tightened painfully. “Because I was there?”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Because you’re real. Because you’re you. Because I don’t need anything like those women you were talking about, don’t want them, either.”

“But- ”

“No ‘buts’.” His tone was firm now, the kind that silenced any argument before it began. “I don’t care about anyone else. Those women you’re talkin’ about? All worthless, the lot of ‘em.”

You felt the unavoidable prick of tears in your eyes. “You really mean that?”

John turned slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You think I’d lie to you about something like that?” He kissed your lips gently, lingering there for a while.

“You’re enough for me, angel. More than enough.”

For the first time in what felt like months, you finally believed him.

I really hope this finds the right person. What a gorgeous request! Give me sweet John Price immediately. ˖⋆࿐໋

[thecomfortgoth]

Tw: talk about periods and being sick, talk of cramps and feeling sick, talk of just general yucky feeling when sick or having a bad time with your monthly cycle

18+ MDNI

This was absolutely a self indulgent write a few weeks ago when I was sick AND on my period at the same fucking time, but I had not been able to stop thinking about how The Boys (tm) (this means Eddie, Steve and Billy on my blog) would be when you’re sick or having a rough time with your monthly cycle.

Also quick note to say that anyone who has any negative comments or opinions about anything I write (unless it’s genuine constructive criticism) or any of The Boys (tm) , they will be deleted and blogs will be permanently blocked. If you don’t like a character or how someone headcanons them, you don’t have to interact. Please just scroll along.

Pls also accept this as my “I’m sorry Peeping Tom Part 3 is so so so so dreadfully terribly fucking late” offering (I promise it’ll be out soon, I just need some time to work on it and have a lot of work at the moment)

There do be headcanons under the cut~

Steve would be so sympathetic, he’d be all over you the second you mentioned it, showering you with affection and asking you what you need every 5 minutes because he’s so worried about you. He’d be ushering you into your bedroom and grabbing you some comfy pyjamas to change into. He’d be grabbing you a blanket and tucking you in, making you your favourite food (if you can stomach it) and laying with you while you watch any kind of crappy TV you desire. He’d bring you chocolate or candy or any favourite snack of yours and make you hot drinks, kissing your warm flushed cheek every time he came into the room and telling you that you’re still his perfect angel, even if you’re grumpy and moody. He’d be rubbing your belly and your back, telling you he doesn’t care if you have squidgy bits or rolls or stretch marks, he wants to help you feel better and if this does the trick? Then by god hes doing it. He’d maybe even go as far as kissing every single little silvery mark on your skin while he lays on top of you and lets you use him as a heated weighted blanket, your fingers in his perfect hair as you play with it and gently wind it around your fingers absentmindedly. Steve doesn’t mind one bit and will lay there all night if he has to.

Eddie at first, would panic, because he has absolutely no idea what to do. It’s only ever been him and Wayne, and he’s never really had to look after someone when they’re sick or in pain. If you’re on your period, he’d be going to the store to grab you any supplies and may be a little shy about it, but he’d do it anyway because he knows you need it. He would definitely forget to ask you what tampons/pads you normally use, so would end up buying one of each, coming home out of breath and all sorts of discombobulated, clutching them in his arms saying he’s sorry but he just wanted to make sure you were prepared (it makes you giggle when he’s breathless and dramatic all “I didn’t wanna be that guy who texts and asks something stupid like ‘what size pussy you wear’ while I’m in the middle of the fuckin’ pad aisle!”) He’d run you a nice warm bath or a hot shower at least, letting you relax in the water while he sits outside the bathroom door (because he understands you might want some privacy) with his guitar, serenading you softly with some of your favourite songs. Afterwards he’d take you into his room, giving you one of his old band T-shirts to wear as pyjamas, drying off your hair for you and getting you all comfy on his bed, making you a little cosy nest, cuddling you close while you listen to some quiet music and he lets you doze on and off on his chest, playing with your hair and giving you forehead kisses. He does worry a little every time you wince or groan, but he shushes you and runs his fingers through your hair, reassuring both you and himself in the same breath.

Now Billy, he’s dealt with this before. He does have a sister and a stepmum after all. He just knows that you’re probably going to be a little moody and easily irritable if you’re on your period, so he is super super careful about what he says and does, lest he feel your wrath (and because he just doesn’t want to upset you deep down). He’ll immediately grab you a hot water bottle and make sure you’re keeping hydrated, constantly filling up your cup or bottle as soon as he sees you only have a couple sips left in it or scolding you very gently if you don’t drink enough, trying to make you see the importance of it. He’s a man of few words normally, (especially after all the therapy and healing and also meeting you, he’s just much calmer and more peaceful now) but if you get a little upset or sad, he’ll be right there reassuring you that he still loves you and that you still mean the world to him while he lets you play with his hair, something he never lets ANYONE do. He’d be carefully watching you for any kind of change in your expression or noise or twist in your body as you try to get comfortable, and as soon as he does notice it, he’ll be getting up and soon appearing with exactly what it is you need or moving you into a more comfortable position while he wraps his arms around you and snuggles you. It’s honestly so surprising to you to have someone who just knows what you need and when you need it, you’re a little taken aback by it, but in a good way. He’ll hand you things you need with a small smile, shrugging and blushing a little as he tells you it’s no big deal, but secretly he’s super proud of himself for just being so intuitive, picking up on your mood etc easily and putting things he’d learned in the past to good use, he loves to take care of you and would do literally anything for you when you’re sick or in pain.

[calaisreno]

Consequences

Prompt: Family

This is a small sequel to While You Were Dead . It might be a bit confusing if you haven't read that story, so here's a very brief summary: While Sherlock is dead, John, working a late shift at the A&E, meets a much younger Sherlock who has inadvertently time-travelled to 2012. They sort out a few things.

This story happens after Mycroft picks Sherlock up from the A&E.

...

Mycroft takes him home. 

“Little brother.” He’s given the speech many times, understands the futility. But he can’t not tell him what he needs to hear, even if he refuses to listen. “Mummy will be told. Last time I swore I would, and I always keep my promises.”

Sherlock doesn’t speak. He’s probably still coming down off whatever it was this time. He’ll read the doctor’s notes later. It’s not the what so much as how often. It’s becoming a habit that will eventually destroy his younger brother. 

He gives Sherlock a sidelong glance. No earphones, so he must have lost his device again. Mummy will buy him a new one; for some reason she always thinks that kindness is the best consequence. He accepts that it’s the lot of the older brother never to see the younger one held to the same standards. Parents are like that; the firstborn is raised by strict principles, never indulged. Not that Mycroft ever wanted indulgence. His own life is turning out well, thanks to self-discipline. Coddling doesn’t teach that.

But Sherlock is an amalgam of different traits: impetuous, withdrawn, needy, with a restless brilliance that is in some ways more impressive than Mycroft’s. He hates to think of such an extraordinary mind wasted on things like drugs. And caring. 

“You know what will happen now,” he says. 

Sherlock turns his head, focusing those pale eyes on Mycroft. He looks sleepy, almost confused. Presses his lips together, thinking. “I’d like to go to rehab.”

Mycroft maintains control of the car. “You would like to? Why?”

His eyes are closed now, his head leaning back against the headrest. “Maybe… things can be different.”

“It won’t be easy, brother mine.”

“I know. But it might be worth it.”

“You surprise me. What’s changed?”

He opens his eyes, turns to Mycroft, smiling. “Sentiment. Caring. You’re so fond of telling me those things don’t matter. But maybe they’re the things that matter most. I don’t believe I’ll ever be perfect, but I care enough to become better than I am.”

They ride in silence for some minutes. Mycroft pulls up in front of his building. “You’ll stay with me until I make arrangements.”

Sherlock nods, steps out onto the pavement. He looks tired, Mycroft thinks, but not as unhealthy as the last time he saw him. Something has changed.

Inside, he drinks the cup of tea that Mycroft makes him. Yawning, he begins pulling off his clothes, dropping them on the floor as he makes his way to the bath. 

Once he hears the water start, Mycroft opens the envelope with the discharge papers. 

Cocaine, obviously. Not an overdose; he brought himself to the A&E. Dehydration, skin pallor, nausea. No seizures, confusion or anxiety. Slight tachycardia, BP and temp normal. He was given fluids, the doctor noted, and observed for several hours. 

Doctor’s signature: John Watson, MD. Dated: 20 November 2012

He frowns at the date. A tired, overworked doctor might misdate a record, substituting a digit or turning two around. But to write a date that’s fifteen years in the future… 

He makes a note to himself. Contact Dr John Watson. Maybe it won’t be worth the time it takes to find him and question him, but Mycroft doesn’t like untidy details. 

On the other hand, Sherlock has agreed to rehab, a hopeful development. Perhaps he shouldn’t probe. Ordinary goldfish do make mistakes. 

Wearily, he rubs his eyes. Sherlock, wrapped in a blanket and nothing else, is stretching out on the sofa, preparing to sleep. He works himself into a comfortable position and gives a great sigh. “You worry too much,” he mumbles.

Mycroft stands and stretches. A long day, and tomorrow starts early. He’ll think about this later, when he’s more rested. He heads towards the bedroom, picking up Sherlock’s discarded clothing. Piling it on a chair, he studies the lump on the sofa that is his brother.

“Good night, Sherlock.”

There’s no reply, only deep breathing. 

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent

[amaltheafan]

For 2023MadagascarParty theme 7: Love

Logical brain: “Uncle King Julien x Zora makes no fucking sense! It’s just another stupid, lazy way of trying to justify the series being a prequel! And speaking of! Dare I say that it’s even worse then Clover x Sage because at least they had build up spanning multiple seasons! Piss poor build up but still, better then nothing! And if you have to make the series a prequel and you have to get rid of Zora and Uncle King Julien, there are better ways to do it! Zora should have just dumped Mort’s ass without needing another man to fall back on and Uncle King Julien should have been torn to pieces by the fossa or thrown into the volcano by the very lemurs that he once threw to said fossa or something! It’s not like other villains in the show haven’t been killed off before. Why not him!?”

Romantic brain: “Because then he and Zora couldn’t show that ‘ugly’ women can be loved for who they are no matter much how society says that they can’t and that it’s never too late to change for the better!”

Logical brain: “Bullshit! Writing brain, what are you thinking!? You know as well as I do that Uncle King Julien falling in love and giving up everything that he’s been trying to achieve for the entire series, since the very first episode, in the span of a single episode makes no god damn sense! Why didn’t you have Zora show up in The Sign and say that she dumped his ass!? Why do you keep indulging in this…this pea brained, bleeding heart, piece of horseshit ship!?”

Writing brain: “That is an excellent question! It’s true that Zora x Uncle King Julien came out of fucking nowhere and makes no god damn sense for either character, especially not Julien’s. I’m not gonna argue with you there. What I am going to do is make a case for how the pair makes sense in The Sign.”

“The contrast between them and Cla9e. With Uncle King Julien being the former villain who owns up to his mistakes. Who doesn’t fault people for hating him because he knows damn well that they have every right to after everything he’s done. Verses Sage the former hero who does everything he can to down play his mistakes. Who blames his reputation being in the crapper on ‘haters’ who rightly call him out on his crap. Including his own wife, Clover.”

“Who denied her feelings for him immediately after Exiled. Who seemed more excited to be a queen and have a big strong army and a bunch of cool weapons then being with the man she’s supposedly in love with. Verses Zora who, while she tried to hide her feelings initially, then proudly proclaimed her love for Uncle King Julien without caring who knew it. Who was happy at the thought of being a queen and living in a castle but then seemed perfectly content to live as a normal lemur with the man she loves.”

“How throughout The Sign, Sage and Clover’s relationship has taken and endangered lives while Uncle King Julien and Zora’s has created and saved lives. How much happier the latter couple are then the former. How this all eats away at Clover more and more as the story goes on.”

“For at this point in The Sign, Zora’s had more time to train Dr. S then Clover. It was Zora's idea to train Becca and Abner and it was her idea for the couple to make their own weapons. Which inspired the pair to make their battering ram. Which they used to save people before Clover’s very eyes. And that’s not even mentioning everybody else Zora has trained who possibly saved even more people offscreen. So arguably, Zora has done more to protect the lemurs of King Julien’s kingdom than Clover. The very lemurs who Clover, however unintentionally, left for dead to marry a man who couldn’t even be bothered to complete a sacred ceremony that Uncle King Julien could.”

"A ceremony that wasn’t sacred to the former king but was to Zora. A ceremony that’s supposed to be a promise that a groom makes to his bride to change his self centered ways for the better. A promise that Sage has broken time and again.”

“”This isn’t right!” Clover thinks to herself. Zora is the one who ran off with a guy she just met! Zora’s the one who wants to be a guy whose caused more misery for Clover and her friends and the entire kingdom then anyone can count! Zora should be miserable! Zora should be dismissed and criticized and patronized by her romantic partner! Uncle King Julien is the bad guy! Sage is the good guy! Sage is the one whose supposed to be loving and supportive and attentive and everything that Uncle King Julien is pretending to be!”

“Now do you see, logical brain!? It’s about the foils! It’s about the consequences of one’s actions! It’s about the misery! It’s about shattering characters psychologically into tiny pieces! Do ya feel me!?”

Logical brain: “…”

Romantic brain: “…”

Loves to torture my favorite characters brain: “…Yeah!!!”

.

.

.

So yeah, that’s my analysis/explanation for why I ship Uncle King Julien and Zora. Honestly, it was writing The Sign that made me enjoy this weird little ship so much. It just works so well for the story I want to tell, more then I ever could have imagined when I first decided to include them in it. So thank you to anyone whose read this whole rambling thing and happy Madagascarparty!

[narrators-journal]

im gonna just send u these in a little bulk and you can do em whenever u want, anyway, ryomina teratophilia n dacryphilia <3

Is this good? I don’t know at this point. But was it fun to write? Yes! I wrote it as a personal gift to myself for my birthday, so I went full guilty pleasure, self-indulgent, personal favorite thoughts sort of angle. I just wanted my favorite personal Ryoji form included lol. Also! Shout out to SleepyCoffeeOwl on Ao3! Who was nice enough to read over a bit of this beast for me! They helped me fix up a few things about this lil story, so I’m very grateful to them.

Also! While I will be rather busy around halloween, If you make/made a request I promise I’ll get to it! I’ll write into November if I need lol. So feel free to ask away until the 31st!

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Predator/prey, teratophilia, at least a little dacryphilia, overstimulation, dubcon yet again, size difference, cum inflation, canonicity is very loose. My own monster design,

With a sigh, Minato Arisato trailed behind Junpei and Yukari as they patrolled the silent streets of the dark hour. Watching the smaller, less hostile shadows skitter away from them, or stare at the trio as they went, admiring the rotund moon hanging in the sky, and breathing in the stale, cold air.

It was boring.

Not his work as a SEES member, that was always interesting on some level, even when he was doing little else but strolling around in the oddly colored night. No, what was boring was not having his mp3 player to occupy his mind on their patrols.

Not from lack of trying, though. The blue-haired emo had tried all that he could think of to bargain, barter, threaten, and even proposition Mitsuru to put a plume of dusk into his mp3 player so that it functioned like her bike.

It went over about as well as you’d expect. So, while Yukari and Junpei were going back and forth with their semi-flirting bickering ahead of him, Minato simply found another way to entertain himself. watching the small hand creatures skitter about like some fucked up version of rats, or the whispy clouds that hung in the vibrant sky, or played I-spy with himself.

At least, until his mindless daydreaming made him run into a suddenly tense Yukari. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing that Junpei had his broad sword at the ready, so he went ahead and pulled out his katana. Scanning the silent streets ahead of them for any sign of threat until Junpei finally whispered, “I think someone, or something, is ahead of us.” nodding towards an alley further down the sidewalk, where a soft shuffling could be heard in the stagnant air. “Minato, why don’t you go check it out? You’re the one with all of the personas. You’d have a better chance if it’s hostile.” Yukari suggested, getting a scowl from the shaggy-haired wildcard before he pushed past them. Whispering to her as he went, “Just admit you’re scared.” and not hanging around to let her hiss out some indignant venom.

Instead, he crept forward with his weapon drawn and his senses keen for any sudden sounds. Though, in an odd twist, there wasn’t any sound. Outside of the shuffing and pained whimpering of whatever was in the alley, the street had gone as still and silent as a grave. That’s a new one. He thought, but mostly brushed it off and kept his focus on the potential enemy. Though, when he got close enough to the alleyway to press himself to the brick wall of the store, the first thing he noticed wasn’t blood, the sound of ripping flesh, or aything like that, but the strong scent of graveyard dirt and decay.

That wasn’t normal. While the dark hour had a cold, stale taste to the air, sometimes with the tinge of iron or still water, it never smelled so clearly of decay.

Yet, when Minato peeked around the brick wall of the coffin-filled store, he didn’t find any shadows ripping someone apart, or even Strega dealing with a fresh corpse. Only a brunette man in a vibrant yellow scarf curled into the fetal position on the dingey alley floor. “Ryoji?” He asked, his defenses dropping along with his sword, Junpei and Yukari giving squawks of, “Ryoji?!” To mimic his own, but he waved them off. Keeping them at a distance as he stepped closer to the late-semester transfer student. Trying with a gentler edge to his flat voice, “Hey, are you okay, Ryoji? Are you hurt? Scared?” Which, got him no reply. So, he took another step closer and knelt down to put a hand on the brunette’s shoulder.

And that was when he reacted. Ryoji’s voice, usually sing-song and light as a feather, burst out in a guttural snarl that felt as if it physically knocked Minato back. “Get away from me, Minato!” Yet, at the same time that his words were deep and forceful, the sharp edge of pleading rang in the wildcard’s head like a bell. “Huh?! The fuck do you mean? If you’re hurt, I need to help! Otherwise, you’ll get your ass eaten! And not in the way you like.” He snapped back, returning to his feet while Ryoji tried to drag himself away from the man. Which, was the most unnerving part of the encounter. Seeing a man who usually greeted Minato like a hyper dog seemingly power through hellish pain to escape him. Fucking ouch. “Mochizuki, get your ass back here right now-” “NO!”

That time, his voice knocked the breath from Minato like a punch to the gut. Some small part of his long-numbed brain getting frazzled. Awakening a dose of dread that the blue-haired man hadn’t felt for eleven long years. “What...the fuck?…” He breathed out, a hand on his chest to steady his frantic heart rate as his storm-colored eyes watched the brunette curl into a ball against the back wall like a beaten dog. Shaking like a leaf in a tornado, with...blood? on his hands. “Ryoji. Are you okay?” He asked, stepping closer again, his annoyance and confusion put aside for concern. “Please...leave me alone. Run…” Ryoji said, his voice quieter, that time. Less hostile, yet still powerful enough to make the blue-haired wildcard shiver in a mix of excitement and fear. But, he ignored his pleas and pushed through the odd sensation.

He took another step closer, reaching for the brunette again. But, before he could grab Ryoji to try and pull him out of the passage, the cowering man screamed. Startling the persona user again, but not nearly as much as the bloody, slimey appendage that ripped itself from Ryoji’s back with a sick, wet ripping sound. “Minato?! What the hell is going on?!” Yukari asked, closer than she had been. “Stay back!” He snapped back, not letting his stormy eyes leave what turned out to be a fucking wing. Ryoji was growing wings, but not only one or two, but four. The transfer student who’d been so desperate to befriend him wasn’t human. “R-Ryoji?” He tried again, his voice almost a whisper. Inwardly wincing at the edge of anxiety in his words. “What...what’s going on?” He asked, stepping back as he spoke. Watching as the boy cried and contorted in pain. His body bulging and shifting beneath his skin and clothes, his face twisting into a sick grin as his teeth fell out and his eyes darkened. It was almost too horrifying to watch, yet kept Minato’s eyes glued to his classmate. Rooted to the spot by the pained, inhuman shrieks to watch what was human only a moment ago, slowly turn into something more beastial. Something that made Yukari shriek behind Minato.

And just like that. The spell was broken.

Turning on his heel, Minato bolted like a rabbit from a wolf. Blind of where he was going, just knowing that he couldn’t stay, and that he couldn’t stay with Junpei or Yukari. Though, he was vaguely aware that the duo seemed to follow his lead, each haring off from the scene of the crime the moment they saw Minato fleeing the alcove between buildings. Though, the wildcard’s adrenaline wasn’t racing out of fear exactly, In the frantic rush to get away, enough clarity was there to identify that much.

No, the midnight-haired emo wasn’t running out of some fear of dying to whatever creature Ryoji was becoming, but simply because it was what felt right. After all, while not knowing what the hell his classmate was, he was damned sure of one thing. He was predatory.

So, the wildcard ran for all his training with Akihiko was worth. Down dark alleys, empty streets. Dodging immobile cars and caskets housing the normal citizens of Tatsumi port, he let that odd, amoral rush of excitement and dread push him further. His feet pounding into the asphalt, his blood rushing in his ears, and his mind racing with alternating thoughts of Gotta get away, and Oh god I hope he’s chasing me. Like the two most primal parts of himself were battling within him. Yet, only one got its wish. “Mina! Come back!” Ryoji’s voice called from the silent street behind him. The sing-song sugar back in his words, but the impact of his words wasn’t entirely softened. Whatever was calling to him may have been Ryoji Mochizuki, but he wasn’t the Ryoji he knew.

Which...was thrilling.

The rush of dread was overtaken by the buzz of giddiness at that point. Making Minato’s breaths puff out in gasps as he hooked around a corner and ran down another thin passage to a new street. Fueled by the rush he got each time the monster’s voice called out, “Mina! Funeral lily! Come here! I won’t hurt you!” “Please! I just want to see you! Mina!” With what Minato thought might be an exilerating edge of desperation. God what the hell am I doing?! That thing’s not human! I shouldn’t be aroused at it chasing me! He scolded himself, trying to get his barrings on whatever perverse side of himself was muddying his thoughts, but that didn’t stop that voice from arguing, Okay, but he’s capable of intellegent speech, and whatever it is WAS Ryoji ten minutes ago. It wouldn’t be a sin-

The thought was shoved away. Minato was no stranger to odd hook-ups, but a classmate who turned into a shadow? That was enough to make his stomach itch with shame.

Yet, in his thoughtless weaving between streets and coffins, Minato realized that he had managed to lose track of where he was. Even when he tried to spot identifiable landmarks as he ran, nothing looked even vaguely familiar. The full, yellow-green moon doing nothing to clear up the thick shadows, and the air that stung Minato’s lungs still tasted of decaying leaves and graveyard dirt. It shouldn’t have, though. After all, he was running down a dark street lined with houses, not graveyards or dead trees. If the dark hour hadn’t been in effect, the place would’ve been nothing more than your average, well-off culdesac.

Yet, the dark hour was in effect. So, instead of a peaceful neighborhood with an HOA, the green-tinted street was full of dark nooks and the peering eyes of whatever courageous monsters dared peer out of their hidey holes.

Yet, that was all the shadows did. That’s all that they had done ever since Ryoji had turned into...whatever he became. Even with Minato disoriented from confusion and weakening from exhuastion, no shadows dared try to attack.

So, with legs like jello, and the coordination of a baby deer, the blue-haired man almost involuntarily slowed to a stop at the end of the block. Peering around at the houses and yards that blocked his escape. Steadying his breathing as best he could to try and focus on the eerie silence of the eerie neighborhood to try and pick out any suspicious squeak or tap on the asphalt or houses.

Nothing.

Even the usual ambiance of shadows going about their usual existence, or the stirring of air under, assumedly, Ryoji’s new wings had been mute for...however long. That’s not good, is it? Minato asked himself, looking behind himself as he thought. What does it mean when a monster scares the other shadows? Even the arcana shadows had smaller shadows in their areas. He thought, his wide, stormy eyes studying every non-descript lump of darkness before turning his head back around. Only to feel the tickle of heaving, night-scented feathers on the tip of his nose.

Sitting before him, pale mask smiling down at Minato from an impressive height, was that human-bird abomination that was Ryoji.

How the fuck did he get here?! Was the shaggy-haired man’s first panicked thought, only for another to rear-end that blip of as soon as he’d had it. How close has he been this entire time?Did I ever even lose him? Was he only messing with me by letting me run? Are Mitsuru and the others okay? Are they alive?! And many more piling up like a car wreck until all the man could do was tilt his head back numbly to look up at the beast that was once a lovesick classmate.

With that same wind-brushed hairstyle Ryoji wore with two twinges jutting up like antennae. A mask-like face of snow white with bottomless pits for eyes and an eerie, toothless smile. Not to mention skin that--Minato took a step back without realizing it. It was grotesque. That skin so black, as black as obsidian stretched over a large, human upper body that was no longer an average, soft weight, but emaciated. It was like the goofy man had morphed into some feverish nightmare. A feverish nightmare that now sat in front of him in the flesh. With his four large, dark feathered wings shimmering with unearthly color in the green light at any small movement, and two...were they legs, since he had human arms? Hind legs? Of a bird. Each four-toed foot adorned with claws sharp enough to slice chromium like hot butter.

If it wasn’t for the voice whispering in the wildcard’s head about the looming beast being a predator, he would’ve seemed kind of cute with how he sat. Watching the wildcard with his legs out in front of him when the man all but fell on his ass to crawl away from him. ”R-Ryoji?...” Minato tried, the tentative word little more than a lustful-fear-choked croak in the stillness of the green night. Yet, it seemed to be all the invitation the shadow needed. Reaching for the blue-haired persona user with boney, clawed fingers to pluck him off of the asphalt while he tried to scramble back to his feet.

Not that running anymore would have done any good. After all, it had only taken Minato looking away for a brief moment for the beast to be mere centimeters in front of his face. It didn't take a rocket scientist to calculate the chances of his escape.

But, that didn’t stop the blue-haired man from writhing and fighting to get out of the monster’s hand. Even resorting to trying to bite him, though to no avail. All he managed to do was exhaust himself. All the while, Ryoji stared down with his bottomless eyes like his attacks were nothing. As if Minato was only laying limp in his palm. Only stilling him with a series of cooes, trills and trapping Minato under his thumb so he could use a claw to gently cut through the mortals clothes.

He was cutting Minato’s clothes off. “H-hey! Don’t do- Stop that!” The wildcard squawked, his cheeks burning with a melancholy mix of skin-tingling excitement and cold disgust. Swatting at whatever he could reach to stop the shadow from stripping him like some lewd doll. But, for all his fighting, the blue-haired emo only got was a happy, sing-song trill from the beast. Allowed to kick and snap to his heart's content since, with his midsection trapped, it was all in utter vain. Yet, he still tried. Minato fought for all he was worth to worm his way to freedom, or at all dissuade the bird-thing.

Yet, all that got him was a sweat by the time the beast finally slipped the now-ruined school pants from his body. No progress in his fight for freedom, just tired, with a nagging sense of blood-thrumming fear. All Minato could do was slam his fist down on Ryoji’s hand and plead, with rain threatening to fill his cloudy eyes. “Please...Ryoji, please don’t.” Only to get a gentle shushing, like a soft breeze through the trees on a quiet night, and an affectionate chirp in response. Before the masked monster lowered his head, and a long, wet tongue slithered out from the mouth of his eerie mask. “Hold on, what- what are you- Ah!”

Leaving a slick trail of warm saliva in its wake, the tip of the shadow’s long tongue languidly slid from his asshole, up and over his groin. Coming to a stop below his ribcage where a ripple of shame continued to Minato’s burning face at how the slow drag of the wet muscle over his pale skin made his stomach flutter. Oh god, am I...am I ACTUALLY into this? Minato thought, trying again to wriggle out of the shadow’s hold. What is that supposed to mean? How is this even registering as hot in the first place?! But, those questions got shunted into the depths of his mind for later when Ryoji’s monstrous form circled its tongue around Minato’s member. Letting out a whine from whatever mouth that perpetual smile hid. as if disappointed that the 5’6 persona user didn’t have the proportions to…what? Fuck him with? Ryoji, I swear to god if I survive this encounter, we will be having such a talk.

Yet, that moment wasn’t the right one for questions. The priority in that moment was to try and bite back the pleasure flowing into his stiffening member. Yet, the slick warmth, flexing muscles, and calculated movements worked together to pick off each one of the wildcard’s mental defenses regardless.

And, there was no way Ryoji was clueless about what he was doing. Even though Minato saw nothing but a void of endless darkness when he looked into those eyes, he could tell from the beast’s use of that cursed, blue-black tongue that the squeezing and stroking was 100% intentional. Curated specifically to deftly increase the hellfire under his skin until his rational thoughts were overrun with that familiar headrush of need.

The monster’s tongue worked him until Minato’s attempts to get free of the thumb pinning him had devolved into thoughtless pants and humping into the moist heat. The more aggressive those lewd impulses became, the foggier Minato’s thoughts became. And in turn, the less he could focus on fighting, or even his own shame.

At least, that was the logic Minato could piece together to rationalize his predicament. That was all he could do, after all. Lay in the beast’s hand, pinned beneath his thumb. Fighting for some coherent thought while his hips twitched and moved with Ryoji's tongue in a disgraceful dance. Until, despite his attempts to stall, the bubbling rush of excitement crept in. “Ryoji! W-wait, I’m gonna cum!” Minato yelled, sure to wince at how whiney and desperate he sounded later. But, in that moment of forbidden bliss, when the friction and technique won against his denials and rationale, all he could do was claw into the creature as his stomach clenched and shuddered with pulsing pleasure.

In the aftermath, Minato hadn’t even the energy to contemplate what had happened. All he could do was let his head loll back and gulp in desperate breaths of nearly-stale night air. Meanwhile, his captor lapped up whatever stray squirt managed to escape him. And Minato let him. Letting the warm weight of the shadow’s tongue press into his body while he tried to will the stability back into his gelatinized legs.

Yet, in that moment of leisure, what Minato didn’t expect, was the cool asphalt to be what touched his stomach next. But, sure enough, when his storm-grey eyes snapped open he no longer looked into the tornado-green sky, but down an abandoned road. Still ladden with thick shadows and no sign of life outside of the rumbling and shifting weight of the human-bird abomination above him. Those noises soon giving way to a more gut-twisting soundtrack that was all too familiar to the man.

The sound of bones crunching and cracking. Of muscle tissue tearing apart like a fork tender roast.

He didn’t dare look back to see the explanation. Minato didn’t even think of his lack of clothing as his feet scrambled against the unyielding blacktop. The only thing on his mind for those precious few seconds was Run! Oh god, get out of the car!

Before, the frantic train of thought crashed on its tracks. Minato kept from his freedom by a firm, yet measured weight pinned his belly back to the road. And, while the shadow’s hand was smaller, big enough to hold onto the back of Minato’s neck to keep him in place on the rough terrain, but not engulf his entire body, he could still feel how much of the beast’s strength Ryoji held back. ”Stay. Put.” Came the order. Whispered in a melodious voice that was equal parts smooth and soothing, and gutteral. Like a verbal shot of cinnamon. Spicy, yet still capable of luring out a small whimper from the wildcard. The power in those two words reverberated through Minato. Snatching away the courage to fight, and replacing it with a taboo bolt of enticing fear. Which, was a feat. Considering the emo was rarely intimidated by the horrific creatures in the dark hour, yet, with Ryoji’s clawed hand around his throat and his masked face close enough for his warm breaths to stir the edge of the persona user’s shaggy fringe, his pride couldn't help but take a back seat to the mingling and mixing of fear, disgust, and desire.

Yet, he didn’t get much time beyond that to beat himself up for cowing down to a monster, or how his dick twitched. Because once the beast was sure he wasn’t going to try and bolt again, his hands were back to exploring Minato’s body. Feeling along every scar and curve as his face nuzzled into the man’s neck to lap at his skin and drink in the scent of his lavender body wash. Meanwhile, Minato could hear his talons clicking on the paved road while the monster adjusted his size and stance. Keeping himself large enough to pin his prey, but judging from what parts of his body the wildcard could feel lifting his hips or puffing against his neck, small enough so that he wouldn’t kill him. Once satisfied, though, his face finally dislodged from the persona user's neck. Instead trailing mimed kisses down his spine. So, taking the opportunity to sate curiosity, Minato took stock of what he could through the storm of uneasy pleasure and disgust.

The first thing, was the utter lack of any noise. Even with it feeling as if the Dark Hour should end, the plump moon hung overhead in the sky, so the streets still lacked the usual night life. Secondly, and more worrying, was that despite Ryoji's reveal as a monster, the brush of a barbed something against his ass still made Minato's cock twitch again.

Ryoji lifted him off of the pavement. Abruptly dragging him out of his contemplation and back to his position as the plaything of a semi-human bird creature. Who, when the wildcard looked, had sat back on his hind legs to calculate how to go about the next step. Yet, whatever thoughts might be going through Ryoji’s monstrous head was secondary to the...member Minato saw between the creature’s legs.

After all, with a softer pink skin tone to contrast the ebony color painted onto Ryoji’s skeletal frame and soft barbs going down its length, it was hard to miss. Tapered at one end, drooling a thick precum, the appendage didn’t quite look like a human dick. But watching it twitch while he was placed over him, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess its use. “H-hey, wait! Ryoji, that’s too- Fuck!”

Regardless of his words, the monster pushed him down onto the odd cock. Stretching and filling the blue-haired mortal to the point of sparks of pain. Thankfully only pushing a little over the ‘tip’ in, but against Ryoji's cool, skeletal chest, the squirt of heat that filled Minato’s stomach was overwhelming. Bringing more tears to his dark eyes as he clawed into Ryoji’s hand, Jesus, how big is he at this point?, while the monster ground into Minato’s ass until the blue-haired man breathed out a quiet moan.

That was all it took. One small sign of possible consent, and the shadow was fluttering his wings and pushing him further down his length until Minato gasped and yelped, “R-Ryoji!” Throwing his head back and clawing into the monster that held his midsection. Yet, any concern he was going to voice escaped him. Because, as he stared up into the bottomless eyes of that pale mask, and the thickening cock slipped deeper inside of him, pleasure overtook him. The barbs added a delicious bit of extra drag over every sensitive inch of Minato’s body they managed to reach, and It was breathtaking. the lascivious mix of pain and pleasure, leaving no more room for fears of the consequences.

Instead, the only fear Minato could find as he was drug up and down Ryoji's cock only heightened the thrill. All he could focus on was how helpless, full, hot, and good he felt. Shaking with pain from how he was being stretched, but at the same time, Ryoji’s cock never seemed to miss a weak spot. The barbs brushing along his clenching walls, flooding his blood with a fresh bout of fiery thunder with each drag. All the while, the curve of the dick allowed the tip to grind perfectly against Minato’s prostate when the bird monster moved right. The disgust at being a shadow's toy would come later. For now, Minato lost himself in the stomach-tightening bliss.

All the while, Ryoji smiled down at him, puffing out breaths and growling with his own pleasure. Keeping a careful hold on Minato as to not squeeze his guts out, and letting the smaller male claw into his fingers against the pain. Not seeming to care for a second. even when the emo managed to break skin a little bit, all he seemed worried about was the lewd moans and whimpers Minato gave, and the wet schlick schlick schlick of his cock working its way into the mortal until no more could be squeezed into him.

He only paused his pursuit of every possible sound Minato could make once. Right when the wildcard felt as if he was about to unravel a second time that night. “What the fuck?!” was the thoughtless snap that delay got. Minato's chest heaving, his hair a mess from sweat, and his grey eyes flashing with impatience when he snarled up at his captor. Yet, all the shadow did to his annoyance was snort. Wiping away the tears that had started trailing down Minato’s cheeks in the heat of the moment. Lifting his hand back to the grinning mouth of his pale mask, the monster lapped up the salty tears and cooed down at the mortal. As if to thank him for something. Admittedly, through the haze of nearing orgasm and taboo mixing of pain and dread, it was hard to tell.

Then, without missing a beat, he was back to thrusting into Minato. Trilling when the mortal gave a startled mix of a moan and a yelp. Though, this time, the monsoon of hot pleasure and satisfying fullness didn’t stop. Even when more tears escaped Minato’s usual impeccable control, Ryoji would only trill as he ground into him. Dragging him along the barbs of his inhuman cock with increasingly unsteady hands. But, to Minato's gratitude, the soft bristles kept the human-bird abomination from speeding up.

Yet, even when his inky wings flared out and flapped in some mindless search for leverage, he kept going. The unyielding onslaught of euphoria breaking down the emo’s shame. Going and going without a sign of break. Flooding him with euphoria until an electrical current soaked into Minato’s muscles. Arching his back in the monster’s hand as a yowl ripped from him. Partially out of pain, but also born from the crescendo of bliss that rushed to his head at last.

Yet, the wildcard didn’t get to enjoy his orgasm for long. That rush of dopamine immediately gobbled up by a harsh sting of pain that increased the further past his limit Ryoji pushed him. “Ry...oji…” He muttered. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the way being so full soured from a pleasing burn, to a colder pain. Yet, the winged shadow was too far away to hear him. Continuing to drag him along his ridged cock like a toy. Enjoying the whines, tears, and hisses just as much as Minato's moans and pants.

Again, all Minato could do was whine and plead to the discolored night. His words lost on his captor, and his strength ebbing in the acidic waves of masochistic pleasure. Clinging to those sparks of dark need to keep him from passing out or letting the aches and stings of Ryoji's member stretching him overwhelm him.

Regardless, though, the wildcard hung on. Focusing on whatever he could to keep his shaking body from going too limp or his vision from going too dark. Until, at long last, Ryoji’s wings flared out a final time and gave a shudder as he pumped what felt like molten lava into Minato’s body. Overwhelming his senses once more with sensations. Ryoji, meanwhile, throbbed inside of him. Panting against Minato's back and letting out small noises into the discolored night as his four wings quivered and shimmered.

He was beautiful, in that odd, sad sort of way you might find a body in a casket to be beautiful. The shimmering of his feathers subsided, his pale mask contrasting against his dark skin. It was as if he demanded all Minato’s focus, even as he did little more than coo and chirp down at the wildcard in sleepy affection. Though, perhaps that focus was Minato’s encroaching loss of consciousness.

[moriihana]

we can’t fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || nineteen: little sister

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: you and dabi go to toga's childhood home.

content: fluff, a little suggestive at the end bc i'm an indulgent little shit

word count: 1179

a/n: i promise i'm trying to get stuff out in a timely manner, i'm just not doin so hot as of late & my motivation's been pretty low lmao. also didn't have a gif for this one so i made a quick title card. oh shit i just realised i got the chapter wrong don't look at me oh no oh god

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

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You eyed the graffiti on the brick wall you were approaching, your heart twisting in your chest painfully. Oh, Himiko…

“She’s in there,” Dabi said, nodding at the house behind the brick. “We can wait out here until she comes out.”

“You sure I shouldn’t go see her?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you bit back tears. “How could anyone write those things about her…? They don’t know her.”

Dabi placed a hand on your shoulder, steering you into the building facing Toga’s house. “You know how this society is. Spoonfed by heroes, whenever they see something that doesn’t fit their narrative, they try to stamp it out.” You simply hummed in response and climbed the stairs behind him. You watched as he broke off the window panes of the room you entered and perched on the windowsill, gesturing for you to sit next to him. Amused by his antics, you shook your head a little bit and sat down, dangling your legs out.

You sat in silence for a few minutes before nudging Dabi’s shoulder when you spotted Toga leaving the house. “Touya, she’s coming out,” you said softly.

“I see her.” Dabi nodded, eyes trailing after Toga. When she walked out of the gate, he spoke up. “Never knew you actually had a heart, nutjob,” he ignored your stern look and continued, “But even you can get caught up in emotion, huh?”

Toga looked over her shoulder. “I was just curious about my old house. That’s all. Totally normal.” 

Your heart clenched at how Toga still wasn’t her usual, bubbly self. I’ll kill Hawks myself, you thought with hatred. And that U.A. girl who made Himiko cry. They’re the reason she’s so sad. I hate heroes, I hate that nobody cares about the ones who don’t fit in…

Dabi let out a laugh as he grinned down at Toga. “You sure you’re ready for what’s coming?”

“And what might that be?” Toga asked as she started to skip away.

“I mean, us putting an end to this rotten world.”

“Little late to ask that now,” Toga quipped in response.

Dabi lifted his arm with smile as he lit a flame in his palm. “Good. Whether we’re crying or smiling, the sun’ll come out tomorrow. So I say…” He smirked, directing his flames at Toga’s childhood home. “Let’s smile, Toga Himiko. Smiling…” Blue fire engulfed the building. “Is why we live our lives!”

You watched the fire blaze, a soft smile gracing your lips at the destructive beauty of it. I really can see the big brother in you, pretty boy. As emotionally stunted as you are, you’re still a softie. Thank you for helping cheer Himiko up, Touya. You didn’t really need me here, did you? You chuckled quietly to yourself. You were looking for a scapegoat to hide the fact you actually do have emotions. 

Toga stopped skipping and turned to look at the inferno. “You’ll get us caught, Touya-kun,” she said softly, “But… that was awfully kind of you.”

“Caught? Society don’t got the juice to take us down right now.” Dabi snorted as he dropped from his perch in the window, softening the landing with his flames. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You comin’, mouse?”

“You’re joking,” you deadpanned, shaking your head. “I’ll break something!”

Dabi barked out a laugh—if you didn’t know any better, it could be mistaken as mocking. “You think I’d let that happen? I’d catch you, idiot.”

You eyed him with suspicion. “Ah, fuck it,” you grumbled with a roll of the eyes, heaving yourself out the window. A small squeak slipped from your throat as you tumbled out, grunting when Dabi caught you with little difficulty. “You’re infuriatingly strong, pretty boy.”

“Told you I’d catch you. The recoil from my flames is no joke—takes a good amount of strength to handle,” he drawled with a sly grin. He then turned his attention back to Toga. “And it’s not kindness so much as twisting the knife in Endeavor some more!”

“Oh, stop being so emotionally constipated, Touya,” you teased as he set them down, which earned an icy glare. You looked over at Toga and gave a sympathetic smile, noticing her fiddling with one of her blood vials. Poor Himiko…

Dabi followed your gaze. “You’ll be able to use it, y’know—if the person’s someone close to your heart, you’ll be able to use their Quirk by drinking their blood.”

You limped over to Toga. “Touya made sure we grabbed some of Twice’s blood for you, Himiko,” you murmured, placing a hand on her head. “It’s not much, but,” you trailed off with a sigh.

“We’ll help that sad, sad parade to keep marching. And the ones having the last laugh? That’ll be us,” Dabi finished your thought with a grin. 

Toga pulled out the vial she was fiddling with and held it as if it were something precious, which it was. “Thank you,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. The ache in your heart eased slightly and you pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of the girl’s head. 

“I’m glad to see that sweet smile again, Himiko. I hate to see my little sister so sad,” you said kindly. That smile on her face grew bright, and you felt like the weight in your heart disappeared. “There we are.”

Dabi huffed and trudged over to the two, wrapping an arm around your waist. With a mischievous smirk, he leaned down where he could whisper in your ear, “Now don’t go ignoring me again, little mouse.” You withheld a shudder, giving him a soft glare. 

“Behave yourself,” you said sharply, though there was little heat in your voice. You tried—and failed—to conceal the way his voice affected you. Asshole, you thought. He knows good and well that his voice flusters me. Little shit.

Toga giggled. “Your love smells so sweet,” she cooed. You groaned and nudged Dabi away with your shoulder.

“Look what you did,” you grumbled. “And you’re always the one talking about not encouraging her tendencies.” 

The man huffed and pulled you right back against him, tightening his grip on your waist possessively. “You behave,” he quipped back lowly before looking at Toga. “Oi, lunatic. We’re headed back—don’t stay out too late. We still need you around, so don’t go and get yourself killed just yet.” Despite his rudeness, you couldn’t help but smile at the small bit of care he let show—even if he backtracked.

“You’re being awfully possessive, pretty boy,” you said with a grin as Dabi led you away, his arm still wrapped possessively around you. “You still all pouty from me not paying attention to you?”

“I don’t like being ignored, doll. I’m just making sure you don’t think you’re getting away with that again.” 

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Mmhm.” 

“You’re being awfully bratty for someone who’s in trouble for ignoring me,” Dabi drawled, squeezing your hip.

“I know you’re all bark and no bite,” you laughed. “Actually—no, you do bite. Hm. Fuck.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Oh dear.

[letstrywritingmaybe]

I don’t normally hide my rants on this blog but it’s getting lengthy and I just need to sort out some feelings

Listen I totally get people who accept criticism and are open to listening to readers about things they could “improve” on their fics. And more power to you, I get wanting to better your craft! That’s great! But I’m not one of those people. I’m well aware I’m not a real writer and I’m not trying to be. I do this because sometimes I have these stories that I can’t keep in my head so it needs to come out, and I share them just in case someone else can appreciate it too. If you don’t, that’s totally fine, we all have our own opinions. But please just exit out, I promise it’s better if you just decide to close the tab. We will get nowhere. You won’t change my mind on where I want to go or have already gone with my fic, and I won’t cater to you. I’m a self indulgent writer, I write for myself first and foremost. Of course I’ve been inspired by my fellow shippers and I do write gift fics too, but I need an established connection to do so. And even then, I still enjoy what I write cause if I don’t even like it, how can I expect someone else to? I’m definitely not talented enough to put something together and think it’s good enough for someone else’s taste.

I’m ranting and this really doesn’t apply to most of you, but I’m just kinda at a loss for words (shocker I know cause I’ve just ranted so many above). Idk, maybe it’s because I’m such a good commenter (yes I take pride in the fact that my comments are genuine and I love to gush and send love letters), but it really rubs me the wrong way when I get a comment that I just don’t vibe with at all. Especially if this is our first interaction. I don’t know you and I guess it’s nice that you read my fic but also I didn’t ask you to? You could’ve exited out at any point and kept your thoughts to yourself. I don’t expect to only get good comments, I know how unpopular some of my writing/plots are but I still went this route because this is my story that I wanted to tell. And if you don’t agree with it, by all means go write it yourself and make it the way you want it! I highly encourage it! Writing for yourself is one of the best things you can do and it’s wonderful when you finally sit back and see that it’s done! You did it! You made something that you like, and that should be celebrated!

Okay the whole point of this is that I got a comment on a fic I haven’t really thought about in a while and it was kinda a long comment and I was like oh? Kinda wish I didn’t read it and now I’m kinda like how do I reply in a way that isn’t snippy? Cause the person wasn’t being super rude or anything but it’s just that we disagree. Which is fine! Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but my thing is this is my fic I wrote for myself and this verse in particular is very much catered to me. And I purposely made some choices that I know isn’t necessarily popular as well as some experimenting, but it was the way I wanted the story to go and of course there was projection involved cause there always is in my fics.

Idk, I’m not necessarily hurt or super mad over this but it definitely made me feel a type of way. I think my big thing is I don’t know you and this does not make me want to know you. I encourage this kind of conversation with someone I’ve talked to before and feel comfortable talking to about my ideas, not a random stranger who decided to spend time to read my fic who didn’t necessarily enjoy it the whole time? Why continue to torture yourself? I don’t understand. You could’ve ended it and just noped out.

And I get it, but you posted your fic so you should be able to take whatever people say about it. Sure okay yeah, but have you considered that it’s kinda rude to just go around leaving reviews unprompted? I really do not expect people to leave me comments and I never ask for people to do so because again, I write for myself! This is purely for me! It’s a passion project! I’m not a business, I’m not trying to market myself, I do this because this is my story I want to tell. And I certainly don’t do it for attention, I wouldn’t be writing for this fandom if that’s what I’m looking for. I would definitely go back to my golden otp or really any of my other otps that are more popular with more active fans. Yes you can think what you think, but there’s also a time and place for speaking out loud about them. You can’t just go up to someone and say their shirt is nice but the pants are awful so the outfit is kinda meh just cause they’re out in public. Did they ask? No? And even if you do think that, you keep that shit to yourself cause you’re literally strangers! Mind your business, don’t make your problem my problem cause I’m just here living my life.

I guess I’m just annoyed, like I’ve definitely gotten way worse comments before and usually I ignore them or just brush it off. Which is likely what I’ll do here, it’s just annoying. Like really? Today you had to do this? My one day back home before going back to the Bay blues? Gee thanks.

Update: I believe in second chances, and the person ended up deleting their comment (which was nice) after I replied. I failed at not being snarky, but at that point it was way too early and I was at the airport so I didn’t care anymore. They did comment on another fic of mine which I guess was slightly better than the first one, at least my choices weren’t criticized here (even though I actually do get a lot of hate for that fic and I knew I would cause it’s controversial, but I had to get it out and I always tag and put warnings so if you don’t like it please just leave!! I don’t force anyone to read my fics!) so I was more civil replying to this one and I do kinda feel bad cause I know how hard it is to get comments. I really hope I didn’t scare them off commenting for you guys, just because I don’t seek validation doesn’t mean I should ruin it for other people. So hopefully they’ll still comment in the future… but yeah that’s that I suppose. I just really didn’t think I would have to deal with this after I restricted my account to registered users. Like I get saying shit anonymously cause you think you’re invisible or something, which is still not cool. People who send hateful anons are the absolute worse, the anon feature is for love letters only, don’t be a dick. But yeah, anyways I’m unfortunately back in the Bay and will hope to survive until I can go home for real. I also really really need to work on my July prompts, I swear I was going to but then I got in a foul mood *sigh it’s okay my man pitches today so we will think happy thoughts <3

[jixic]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

Stolitz, Regressor!Stolas, Caregiver!Blitzø, tiny lil bit ooc

1.320 words

The palace was eerily quiet.

He knew no one besides Stolas and some sleeping servants were inside, But Blitzø couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by the completely quiet, dark and absolutely humongous room.

 He understood the Goetia’s were like 13 feet tall, but was it all really necessary?

Blitzø chuckled to himself, flinching when the noise echoed. 

When they were kids he thought people were spilling a load of bullshit when they said you could never be taller than a Goetia. Now look at him, Stolas is one of the shorter Goetia’s and Blitzø still barely reaches his hips.

"Stolas? I'm here!" He yelled out, maybe if he caught Stolas's attention he'd turn the lights on. He waited, crossing his arms.

He groaned when there was no response, not even a 'blitzy!'. "Stolas! Asshole! Turn on the lights!" He tried again, but still no response sounded back.

"I guess i need to find his room myself.. again." Blitzø cracked his knuckles, setting off on his search. 

He would be lying if he said he wasn't even remotely concerned. Stolas would never ignore him like this! Was he hurt? Taken? Dead?

"God forbid he already gagged himself.." Blitzø tried, an awkward smile crossing his features. Though it couldn't fight his growing worries. 

"Stolas! Seriously! You're worrying me!" Blitzø yelled, biting on his nails. His tail wagged anxiously behind him. "If this is some kind of joke, it isn't funny! Tell me where you are Stolas!" 

He vaguely remembered crossing this hallway before, he knew that picture of Stolas with Octavia. It was burned into his mind. Stolas looked so happy.

He froze. Was that crying?

It seemed he found Stolas's room.

"Stolas? Are you in there?" Blitzø knocked, though letting himself in either way. His question wasn't answered, but he could make out the silhouette of a curled up Stolas. 

"Hey, it's me, you know, for our full moon arrangement? That was supposed to be tonight?" 

Glowing red eyes peeked out from the curled up form, to examine the imp that had just entered.

"Bli… uhm." Finally a response! Blitzø could have cheered then and there. But why did he stop in the middle of his name?

"Stolas.. are you okay?" He asked, walking over to the prince. Admittedly, he now knew Stolas was alive and well just sitting on his bed. But now he was wondering why he was being ignored.

Stolas made little noises of thought, humming slightly. "Bli…zzz? Blis?" He tried, making said imp raise a brow.  

Why was Stolas struggling with pronouncing his name? "It's Blitzø. Remember?" He sat next to the prince, looking at him with concern in his eyes.

There was a certain.. innocence to his look. How he stared at Blitzø with those big bug eyes of his. Completely wide and seemingly curious. 

"Blisy!" The owl yelled, before throwing his weight onto the imp who fell back with a yelp. 

He cuddled into Blitzø's chest, smiling happily.

Blitzø didn't get it, Stolas was currently seemingly so happy, so curious, so innocent.. so child-like… oh fuck.

The realization hit Blitzø like a brick to his forehead. 

Stolas had told him about this before, just in case, but he hadn't actually seen it happen yet.

What was it.. regressing? Yes it had to be that! Stolas had mentioned it when they were talking at some point. Blitzø hadn't really made a point to remember it, thinking it'd never occur he needed to anyway.

And now here he sat, having absolutely no idea what to do while Stolas laid on him regressed.

Just his luck.

"Hey Stols, Are you uhm.." How was he even supposed to go about asking this?! Stolas looked up, something akin to innocence and child-like curiosity floating in those red eyes of his. 

Blitzø always thought you could never tell how he felt with his eyes being one color and all. But the more he fell into the rabbit hole that was Stolas. The more he noticed the small ways his eyes would change.

He loved it.

"How old are you?" Blitzø decided on, ruffling through Stolas's feathers, the bird letting out something similar to a purr. Blitzø lightly chuckled.

Stolas responded with some humming, narrowing his eyes in focus. "Four!" He exclaimed happily. 

Now, Blitzø wasn't a complete asshole, no, But he couldn't let this opportunity slide just like that.

"Oh? I really do have a little baby on my hands here." He teased, ever so gently as to not spark that uncomfortable feeling in Stolas he knew all too well. 

Stolas pouted, sticking out his tongue. "Not a baby!" Blitzø laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Stols." Blitzø smiled, allowing the owl to cuddle closer. Stolas let out a content hoot, smiling brightly. “You’re actually being kinda cute.” Blitzø chuckled, tracing a few shapes on Stolas’s back. 

Stolas pouted again, burying his face in the imp’s neck. “Not cute..” He muttered. 

Blitzø barked out a laugh, pinching at the owl’s side to get some giggly hoots out of him. “Accept that you’re being all cute while cuddly like this.” The imp teased, taking the prince into a tight hug.

“Blisy!” Stolas exclaimed, trying to pry the imp off of him. Blitzø merely giggled in response.

“Especially with that little new found lisp of yours. I forgot you had one when you were little.” He merely teased further despite Stolas’s protests, poking at his cheeks. 

“Cute little owlet with his silly little lisp.” Blitzø took on a baby voice, pressing a gentle kiss to the owl’s puffed out cheeks. 

“Geez now i get why you like little kids so much, i’ve been doing this for like 5 minutes and i’m already having fun.” Blitzø said, honestly talking to himself more than he was to Stolas. He chuckled when Stolas tilted his head in confusion with a small hoot.

Blitzø cooed, receiving a whine in response. He gently lifted the owl up, so he could sit up himself in a more comfortable position. 

As soon as he sat, Stolas immediately dropped his head back down onto Blitzø’s lap. 

“Well i guess fuc…. screwing your brains out is off the table for now huh?” Stolas didn’t respond, merely cuddling further into the imp’s lap. Blitzø assumed he didn't understand what was being said, so he hugged the owl closer with a gentle giggle.

"Blisy.." Stolas mumbled, while reaching to cup Blitzø's cheeks. Blitzø laughed and gently pried the bird's determined hands away. "Yes hun, i'm here. Silly owlet." 

Blitzø's eyes widened. He quietly laughed to himself when Stolas tilted his head in question.

"I've had you like this for so little yet i've already called you a variety of nicknames." He ruffled the owl's feathers. "You bring the sappiest out of me." He smiled, the soft smile turning to an amused grin when Stolas attempted an evil laugh. 

An attempt that came out adorably. 

"Nice try." Blitzø teased. Stolas pouted in response, shoving his head back into Blitzø's chest. "Better luck next time." Blitzø shrugged, smiling all the while.

The imp gently giggled when Stolas whined, gently pinching his feathered sides to get another sweet giggle out of him. 

The two settled into a comforting silence, Blitzø stroking the owl's back while Stolas responded with small content hoots. As Blitzø allowed himself to drown in the peaceful expression the prince wore.

His eyes hit the dried up tears on Stolas's cheeks.

He'd honestly forgotten, the owl was crying when he came in. Whatever caused him to cry must have also caused… this. Blitzø couldn't fight the concern growing in him. But he couldn't bring himself to disturb the owl either. 

He watched the owl fighting sleep for a bit longer, a desperate battle he could see. He chuckled when Stolas inevitably lost.

As the owl's soft breath evened out, Blitzø decided that would be a question for tomorrow.

[sweet-seishu]

anchor

rindou haitani x reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, reader just needs to have a good cry, short and sweet

a/n: a sweet nonnie asked me write something, and since i've been going through quite the rough patch lately i kind of self indulged :)

Rindou Haitani didn't know how to comfort people, he was the type to just tell them that it would be okay, and give them a small pat on the back. But when he saw you completely breaking down into tears after he got home from work, it hit him differently, and it hurt.

He didn't know how to react as he watched you wipe your tears from your face, only for new ones to fall. He didn't like seeing you like this, someone normally happy, always smiling was now completely broken in front of him.

What was he supposed to do, he just wanted to make it better, to see that pretty smile on your face.

Ran was usually better at this stuff, being the warmer of the two brothers, but you were Rindou's, and he knew he needed to do this himself.

"Y/n.." He said softly, standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom. "Are you okay?"

You hadn't even noticed he was standing there, he must have just got home from work. "Oh- rin! Yeah I'm okay, don't worry."

Don't worry.

You always said that to him, always made sure that he knew that you were okay, always giving him a smile and a peck on the lips.

But how many of those smiles were hiding that sadness you were showing now?

He slowly walked up to you, gently grabbing your face and holding it softly between his hands, making sure your eyes met his.

His heart broke at the sight.

Your eyes were completely rimmed red, a sign that you had been crying for a while. Tears were building up, falling down freely and hitting his hands as you looked at him, biting your lip so you could keep the sobs at bay.

Rindou has been beaten up, knocked unconscious and hurt so many times; but nothing could ever prepare him for the pain this brought him.

"Baby-" He started

You could only sob again, cutting him off as you tried to pry his hands from your face just so you could bury it into the pillow, but he wouldn't let you.

"Don't pull away from me, please." Rindou said softly.

"Rin I'll be okay, just need a moment." You whispered.

"You're obviously okay right now y/n, please let me help you." Rindou pleaded.

You could only cry more, holding onto his wrists as he watched you, not knowing what to say to make things better.

"I just-" You sobbed, hiccuping as you looked into his violet eyes. "Rin I don't- I just everything is so much, I try and be happy, try to make everyone around me smile and i- I'm just so tired."

Rindou only continued to stare at you, holding your face between his hands as he tried to thing of something he could say to you.

"Rin I promise I'll be okay, I just need to let it out and I'll be alright, just go order some food or someth-"

Rindou cut you off, pulling you into his chest as he held you tightly, his hand rubbing up and down your back. "If you need to let it out, then please let it out, but don't push me away. Wanna be here for you, want you to know that I'm always going to be."

"Rin-" You said quietly, gripping onto his shirt.

"I know I'm not the best with words, and to be honest I really don't know what to say to make it better, but I can offer you my shoulder cry on, soak my shirt with your tears, I don't care, just let me be a comfort for you.."

You couldn't hold it back after that, sobbing loudly into your boyfriend's chest as you held onto to him for dear life. Rindou didn't say much, only drawing lightly on your skin as he listened to your cries. His heart hurt for you, but he stayed as strong as he could for you, being the anchor you so clearly needed.

After about an hour your sobs finally calmed down, and your breathing was starting return to normal as you relaxed your hold on Rindou, but he tightened his hold on you, needing to be sure you were okay.

"Look at me for a second baby." Rin said softly. You moved slowly in his hold, looking up at him, the tear stains on your cheeks making him frown. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." You told him. "I think I just needed a good cry, it's been a while since I've had one.."

Rindou leaned down, pecking your lips softly. "I want you to know, that you never have to hide how you feel, I want you to tell me when you feel down okay? I want to be here for you, like you always are for me."

You smiled softly at his words. "You know Rin, for someone who claims he doesn't know how to comfort people, you're pretty good with your words." You kissed him again, placing your hand on his cheek. "Thank you, I love you."

"I love you to, I don't like seeing my pretty baby so sad." Rindou smiled.

"I'm sorry, for all of that."

"Don't you ever apologize for needing to let your feelings out you understand?" Rindou said sternly. "I'd rather you cry than keep it all bottled up, and I promise you that I will be here for you every single time. I'm your anchor y/n, and I'm always going to be."

network tag: @tokyometronetwork

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: Wonwoo x gn!reader

Genre: comfort, fluff

Rating: PG

Warnings: sickness, mentions of medicine

Word Count: 547

Note: this is shamelessly self indulgent and completely unedited please do no perceive me

When Wonwoo woke up to find you not in bed next to him he knew something wasn’t right. He always woke up before you no matter the day’s plans. Then he heard it, you were coughing somewhat hard, it was in the direction of the kitchen so that’s where he heads off to. You hadn’t even heard your boyfriend shuffling through the apartment. You were far too occupied trying to control your annoying cough and making yourself some hot tea to soothe it hopefully. When you turn around to get the tissues you nearly jump out of your skin seeing Wonwoo standing there, hair still messy from sleep and his glasses resting low on his nose.

“You scared me,” you rasp out, hand on your chest hoping to calm your heart, “when did you wake up?”

You walk towards him and reach up to fix his glasses and brush his dark hair out of his eyes. He smiles sweetly at your gesture before responding.

“Just now.” his voice riddled with sleep, “Are you sick? Do you want me to take care of things?” “It’s just a cold-” you interrupt yourself with a rather hard cough.

“Go lay down,” he requests, “you’re clearly not feeling good, I’ll make your tea and get you something small for breakfast.”

He finishes his statement with a small kiss on your forehead, normally he wasn’t very physically affectionate, it just wasn’t his style. When he does show affection like this you know he’s full-heartedly in his mindset ready to take care of your every want and need. He always gets like this when you feel even the slightest bit sick. He pets your head lightly and pulls you against his chest. You, out of habit, rest your head against his sternum looking up at him as he continues to pet your head.

“Is it too early for soup? I’m just thinking about what’ll help your throat stop hurting too much. Did you want any medicine too?”

You giggle at him, which ends up making you cough, “It’s okay Woo, I’m quite content with just tea for right now.”

“Are you sure? I can always run out and grab anything you need.” he offers.

“Woo,” you smile, sniffling slightly, “it’s okay, you don’t need to go overboard taking care of me today.”

“I’m not! I just hate when you’re sick. I just want you to get better as quickly as possible.”

“I appreciate it a lot sweetheart, I really do, but it’s just a little cold. I’ll go lay down like you want me to but really, you don’t have to leave this early in the morning to get me anything. You don’t need to cook for me either, I promise, I’m happy just having tea and hopefully having some cuddles this morning.”

“I think that can be arranged.” he smiles brightly, showing the indents you call whiskers, “I don’t have to meet with Mingyu until 2. You’ll be okay with me going out for the afternoon though.”

You pout at him, “Wonwoo, I have a cold not a critical illness that needs 24/7 care.”

He chuckles quietly, “I know, I just want to take care of you is all. Now, go lay down, I’ll be there when your tea is ready.”

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[anangelwhodidntfall]

Sickness: Austin Butler

Austin Butler Masterlist 

word count: 1178

description: Austin takes care of you while your sick with Covid-19, this is more of self-indulgent piece for myself.

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates everyone, I was diagnosed with Covid on 7/6, and this is the first time in nearly two weeks that I have felt well enough to write! 

You knew were sick or probably getting sick with how poorly you were feeling and didn't think anything of it at first, you just started to take some flu medicine and eat some soup to help make you feel better but later that day every time you stood up, you felt dizzy and your heart felt like it was beating kinda fast than it normally did and it made you worried.

"Babbbyy." You called out to your boyfriend Austin from your spot on the couch and a few minutes later you heard Austin make his way into the living room.

"Oh sweetheart, you don't look good. How are you feeling?" He asked looking at you concerned hating to see you so miserable.

"Aus baby I think that I need to go to the ER, my heart is beating kinda fast and I feel dizzy when I stand up." You said looking up at him from your spot on the couch.

"Okay baby, then let's go." He said grabbing your bag and his keys before wrapping an arm around you as he helped you out to the car.

The whole ride to the ER, Austin kept his hand laced with yours occasionally squeezing it to let you know that he was still there with you. Once you two got to the ER, he helped you inside and got you checked in.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" He asked you as he helped you take a seat in the waiting room.

"Please if you don't mind." You said to him as he nodded letting you know he would be back in a few.

You don't know how long you two were there just waiting to be seen by a doctor, Austin tried to make you as comfortable as possible whether it was laying your head in his lap or walking with you outside for a few minutes until you were eventually called back to a room. The nurse took your vitals and asked you some questions about how you were feeling.

"Just relax dear, the doctor will be here to see you as soon as he can." She said as you nodded your head at her trying to get comfortable in the bed.

Austin pulled the extra chair in the room closer to your bed so he could hold your hand while you guys found something to watch on the tv which considering the hour of the night it was, really wasn't much to choose from.

"How are you feeling baby?" He asked looking over at you.

"Alright, a little scared if I'm being honest." You said looking at him because the last time you were in the ER was related to your mom.

"I know you are baby, but you are in the best place that you can be for now. And I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He said placing a kiss on your forehead.

It was almost two hours late when the nurse finally came in and started explaining that they were gonna do some X-rays and some blood work on you to start off with which made Austin laugh because you hated needles with a passion despite having tattoos. You were trying not to focus on the needle that was about to go in your arm when felt Austin squeeze your hand making you focus on him while the needle went in your arm making you wince.

"All done with that, now that radiologist will be in just a few to do those x-rays." Your nurse said as you thanked her.

You must have dozed off at some point while waiting for the nurse to come to do your x-rays because you were briefly woken up by her explaining what she was gonna do and that you could go back to sleep once she finished.

"I know this is none of my business but is that your boyfriend? Because I think it's so cute how sweet and caring he has been with you." She asked you pointed to where Austin was sleeping.

"Yeah, it is. I'm really lucky to have him." You said looking at him with a small smile as she helped you get comfortable.

It must have been another hour or two before they finally came in and told you that you got Covid and that Austin was probably gonna catch it from you being all up on him today making you sigh sadly and feel bad. The doctor said they were gonna give you some fluids to help you rehydrate since you were nearly dehydrated due to being sick, so once again they had to come and stick your hand making you wince.

"I'm sorry for being all over you and possibly giving you Covid." You said to him sadly.

"Hey no need to apologize, baby, you didn't know you had it. Plus I'm gonna enjoy these next two weeks of taking care of you." He said placing a small kiss on your forehead.

Nearly four hours later, you were finally released to go home with what to watch out for and the meds you were prescribed to take. True to his word Austin took care of you the best he could without getting himself sick, he even brought you a stingray and sprayed some of his cologne on it, so you could be near him without getting sick and never made you feel a burden when you had to go back to the ER due to your breathing issues multiple times and you felt so lucky to have him or when you broke down in tears because you couldn't love on your pet bunny.

When your two weeks were up and you were eligible to get tested again, you were so excited that hopefully you would test negative and be able to love on your man and your bunny, those two weeks were so hard for you but you were grateful for Austin. So when the hospital called you and said that you were negative for Covid, you ran out and decided to grab Austin's favorite food, wanting to thank him for all he did for you while you were sick.

"I'm home baby!" You heard him call out as you told him that you were in the kitchen finishing up dinner well plating dinner.

"What's all this?" He asked you.

"A small thank you for taking care of me while I had covid." You said wrapping your arms around him.

"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart, I was more than happy to take care of you. I'm just glad to finally be able to love on you properly and not from a distance." He said making you laugh as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips.  

"I love you bubs." You said.

"I love you more sweetheart." He said smiling at you as you took grabbed your plates.

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

[littlewinter1917]

Textbook Tragedies

The Price of Procrastination

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

Series Masterlist

Words: 2.7k

Pairing: Stucky x Fem!Reader (Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: You're prone to procrastinate when it comes to your university assignments, and Steve and Bucky try to help you through it.

Warnings: Procrastination and some uni stress. Steve and Bucky being big old softies. Just a lot of fluff, and maybe a tiny bit of hurt/comfort and anxiety.

A/N: I wrote this instead of working on my philosophy papers - procrastination at its finest - so this is just very self-indulgent.

“Doll, how much longer do you plan on staying here with me?” Bucky asks, voice muffled by your hair while you’re curled up in his arms.

Instead of an eloquent answer, you just let out a small whine, voicing your displeasure at his silly question before curling yourself even more into your boyfriend’s embrace.

He’s such a great source of warmth and comfort that you want to stay close to him for as long as possible.

Especially now when you’re supposed to do something else entirely.

Something, that you don’t feel like doing in the slightest.

There are currently a couple of writing assignments due, which you don’t want to face yet, so instead you decided to join Bucky on the couch, pretending that you don’t have any responsibilities waiting for you.

But the due dates of your assignments are ticking in the back of your mind, as you try to block the sound and pressure of it out.

Still, Bucky knows what’s going on, and he’s not having any of it.

Under normal circumstances he would hold you for as long as you need and provide you with as much comfort as you want, but this time, things are a little bit different.

He knows about the assignments that are impending, and he also knows about your tendency to do things last minute, to procrastinate until the pressure gets so strong, you‘re almost breaking apart under it.

You‘ll distract yourself by doing everything but the thing you’re supposed to do.

Steve and Bucky realized those tendencies quite early in your relationship, when a big test came up for you, but instead of studying, you were doing literally anything else.

You even offered to clean up the sparring room with Steve or help Bucky with his exercises in the gym.

You would stress bake in the kitchen and then stress clean the whole apartment - doing chores you‘d normally despise, just to get away from your actual responsibility at hand.

It’s not a healthy coping mechanism and you know it, but you‘ve been doing it for so long, it‘s hard not to.

While you‘re trying to pretend not to have the impending pressure of your assignments in the back of your mind, crushing your motivation, Bucky is trying to figure out how he can help you in the best way possible.

He knows he shouldn’t enable your avoidant behavior, but at the same time he does want to provide you with all the comfort you need.

He knows you’re stressed, but putting off the one thing that’s stressing you is not going to help. Feeling a little bit torn, he lets out a soft sigh, before speaking up again.

“Doll, I know what you’re doing, but it’s not gonna do you any favors. I promise you can get all the cuddles in the world after you’ve worked on your assignment, but right now you should probably-“

“No,” you whine, shaking your head softly, and Bucky’s initial intention wavers, – he always has a hard time denying you anything.

Steve, on the other hand, is a lot better at getting into Captain mode and being strict even with you and Bucky, if he really needs to be.

But Bucky is the biggest softy this universe has ever seen, at least when it comes to you, so as much as you are struggling with working on your assignments, he’s struggling just as much to deny you the cuddles and the comfort you apparently crave.

“Please Bucky just a little longer,” you mumble, face buried in his soft cotton shirt.

“Besides, you’re so much better at cuddling than Steve is,” you gently tease.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere, Sweetheart.” Bucky states, trying not to smile at your antics.

“Well, it was worth a try.” You admit, and Bucky’s chest rumbles with warm laughter.

“God, my sneakiness is rubbing off on you.” Bucky sighs with fake exasperation.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like it.” you whisper, and Bucky just shakes his head, trying not to let his amusement show but failing miserably.

It takes a while for him to get serious again, but once he does his eyes still hold that gentleness and it makes your tummy doing flips when he leans over, cupping your cheek and making you look up at him.

“Doll, is there anything I can do to help? What do you need right now to get started on those assignments?”

“Bucky, can’t you just drop it? I’ll get to those later, right now I-“

“You said the exact same thing yesterday, remember?” Bucky softly interrupts you, and you feel heat grace your cheeks in embarrassment.

God damn your two Super Soldiers, with their Super Soldier hearing and their Super Soldier memory.

“Come on, Doll! You’re the brain in this relationship.” Bucky states, and you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mumble, but Bucky insists.

You two are still going back and forth when Steve walks into the living room, taking in your cuddled up forms on the couch.

“And what are you two bickering about?” he asks, smiling, while making his way over to you.

“Girly Pop here doesn’t want to do her writing assignments.” Bucky states, with no hesitation, and you shoot him a glare. Traitor.

“First of all, don’t call me that; second of all, I was about to get up and get started.“

“Were you now?” Bucky asks, amusement both clear in his eyes and voice.

“Yes!” you announce before curling back up into Bucky. “No,” you playfully whine, making both of your men laugh.

“Come on, scoot over.” Steve tells Bucky, who makes some room on the couch pulling you closer as Steve joins in behind you.

You’re sandwiched between the two, with no means to escape them. Not that you actually want to, but you know what’s going to follow. Steve is going to give you his best, stern Captain America voice, ordering you to work on those goddamn assignments.

But instead, you’re surprised to find Steve gently wrapping his arms around you, before mumbling a soft “Sweetheart, we talked about this. We can help, if you want us to, but you need to tell us what you need.”

The small sigh that escapes your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your two beloved Super Soldiers, as they share a concerned look.

“I’m sorry about struggling so much with something that should be fairly simple. I don’t know why I still have such a hard time with it,” you admit, defeated.

You feel more than a little silly – after all, sitting down to work on some assignments shouldn’t be that difficult, yet here you are, struggling to do just that. You know that kind of avoidant behavior is tied to your perfectionism and fear of failure, but even with knowing all of this, you still have a hard time breaking the habit.

Before you can continue your ramblings and apologies, Bucky gently shushes you. “It’s alright, just tell us what you need to make this easier for you.” he offers, and you contemplate his words for a moment.

“I’ve already outlined some of my assignments, and I guess now comes the main part of writing. I don’t think there’s much for you to do, unless you want to write the papers for me,” you joke, before adding: “Maybe you can help me figure out if my argumentation is strong enough or not?”

“Sure,” Steve says, and Bucky nods in agreement.

“Do you want me to grab your laptop for you?” Steve offers, since he’s the one closest to the coffee table, on which your notebook is currently residing.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“Wait, are we going to do this here? We barely fit on this couch.” Bucky asks while gently untangling himself from you and straightening his posture.

“Well, I don’t want to move to the living room table,” you confess.

“How about the bedroom then? There’s enough space to get cozy and write.”

“Bucky…” Steve warns.

“I know, I know, the fun comes only after the work, but maybe that’s motivating,” he offers.

“No funny business?” Steve reiterates.

“No funny business,” you and Bucky both agree, while sharing a playful glance.

Once you three are upstairs, getting cozy on the bed, you start to explain the outline of your writing. It actually helps you understand some of the theories you’re referring to better.

Both of your boys listen attentively and ask questions every now and then.

When you get to your arguments, Steve and Bucky take turns playing the devil’s advocate, poking holes in your assertions, and helping you make your arguments stronger.

As you continue writing, Bucky and Steve leave you be for a while, but checking in every now and then to make sure that you’ve got enough to drink and are taking small breaks.

When dinner time comes around, Steve is the one to get you, knocking softly against the bedroom door before coming in.

“Sweetheart, how are you holding up?” he asks, but the look on your face tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m starting to doubt if I can make the deadline,” you admit, voice timid and strained.

Even though the support of your boyfriends had been helpful, the writing process is taking longer than you anticipated.

You keep rewriting stuff, going back and forth with your wording, but it never comes out right – or so you think.

“Maybe you need to bring some distance between what you’ve been writing or trying to write.” Steve offers.

You look unconvinced. If it wasn’t for the time constrain, you would take him up on that idea, but right now it seems almost impossible.

Even during the last few small breaks, Bucky had to fight you on it, forcing you to get away from your laptop screen and distracting you with silly antics.

So, when Steve tells you that he and Bucky have been cooking one of your favorite comfort foods, your eyes light up, but there is also a lingering hesitancy.

You’re still not sure if you can afford to stop your writing process right now, as the pressure to finish it weighs heavy in the back of your mind.

“Sweetheart, don’t make me use my Captain America voice.” Steve teases, but there is a seriousness behind his eyes, and his simultaneous look of concern isn’t lost on you either.

“We can read through your draft after dinner, give you some feedback, make some minor changes, but right now you should eat something and get some rest.”

The way he says it doesn’t leave a lot of room for any counterarguments, and when you don’t show any signs of closing your notebook or getting up from your spot on the bed, Steve makes his way over to you. He gently takes the laptop and closes it, before he sitting down by your side.

“Angel, I need you to take a break. I understand how stressful all of this is, and how easy it can be to abandon yourself when things get overwhelming, but please, try to rest and eat at least a little bit.”

The tone of his voice is soft, but there’s some underlying urgency and desperation that has your stomach churning with guilt.

Your eyes are fixated on the soft floral pattern of your bedding, as you’re hesitant to meet Steve’s gentle gaze. You know he’s looking at you, anticipating your reaction.

“You’re right.” You admit, after a brief pause.

“I always am, Sweetheart.” Steve softly teases while grabbing your hand, pulling you up and guiding you out of the room – as if he’s scared you’d retreat back to your laptop if he let go again.

When you follow him downstairs, Bucky is already waiting for you two.

The dining room table is lit in warm candlelight, and the faint smell of your comfort food fills the air. It’s only then that you notice how hungry you actually are.

While eating dinner, the topic of your assignments doesn’t come up once, and you’re thankful for that.

Steve and Bucky somehow manage to distract you with some funny stories and their usual bickering.

It’s only when Bucky brings you a small plate of your favorite dessert that you remember your writing duties – but before you can even say anything, Steve interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

Instead, he offers to get your laptop from upstairs while you continue enjoying your sweets.

It takes some convincing, but at the end of it, Steve wins.

He always does.

Once he returns to the table, your heart fills with a small sense of dread at the sight of your metallic notebook.

But to your surprise, Steve hands it over to Bucky and not to you. When he notices the quizzical look you’re giving him, he quickly adds,

“It’s okay if we read through your current draft, right? I thought that might be helpful.”

You only nod, and as soon as the boys have your approval, they read your writing aloud, making you internally cringe, but their passionate and over the top delivery has you giggling every now and then, too.

Once they’re done reading, a well-known nervousness bubbles up again from the depths of your chest.

“Well, so far this was…”

Oh god, you think, averting your gaze and bracing yourself for some critic, but all that follows is praise and approval.

Their words make the heat rise up your cheeks, while your eyes wander down to your hands, as you fiddle with the sweater paws of your shirt.

“You like it? And you’re not just saying that to get in my pants?” you ask only half-jokingly, and the question has Bucky choke on his drink.

“Well, I’m not,” he states in between coughs. “But I don’t know about the intention of this guy.” he adds, while pointing at Steve for clarification.

As if there was anyone else around that he might be referring to.

“I know what you’re trying to ask,” Steve says, “but we’re not just praising you because we adore you and think you’re amazing.”

“I mean, sure, our view of you might be clouded a little bit, but that doesn’t negate any of your talent, or the fact that you did a great job!” Bucky adds.

You’re still a little unconvinced, but you decide to let it slide for the night.

“Are there any immediate changes you think I need to make?” You tentatively ask, and Bucky confidently shakes his head while Steve skims over your writing once more.

“Maybe some wording could be put more precisely – but I’m sure that can wait till tomorrow.” Steve concludes.

“Well then, it’s settled. Come on, little procrastination princess, time to give your fingers and head a rest.” Bucky beckons, and you shoot him an unamused glare.

“You’re getting bolder and bolder with those nicknames, Barnes, and I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” you state.

“Sweetheart, if you think that that’s offensive, you clearly haven’t paid attention to the stuff he says in the bedroom.” Steve notes dryly.

“No, but I might lock him out of it, and we’ll see what colorful language he can come up with then.” you offer, and this time, it’s Bucky’s turn to playfully glare your way, but you just blow him a kiss, before carrying your dessert plate into the kitchen.

Getting ready is a quick process tonight, and despite the shared laughter, your heart still feels a little heavy. The anxious thoughts keep coming back, and you struggle to swallow your worries down. They prevail, even when you’re cuddled in bed, sandwiched between your two lovers.

Steve is already softly snoring, when your mind goes back to the assignments again, and you feel your heart rate pick up once more. After all, you barely have a couple of days left, will that really be enough?

“Stop it.” Bucky whispers, and before you’re able to say anything in your defense, the dark-haired man continues. “I know you’re worried, but you don’t need to be. You did enough today, and you’ll do enough tomorrow, and next thing you know, I’ll call you girly pop again.”

You can’t help the small chuckle that escapes your lips.

“Now, on a serious note. Next thing you know, you’ll be done with that assignment.”

“I hope,” you mumble, and Bucky only pulls you closer before gently placing some tender kisses on your shoulder.

“I’ll make sure you work on those assignments, believe you me.” he softly teases, and you let out something between a small laugh and a yawn.

“I’ll be counting on it, Barnes,” you whisper back, pulling his arms closer around you and he smiles before cuddling closer.

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

[a-lil-perspective]

70 Encouragements/Tips For The Writer:

A/N: Rules don’t exist. These are real and personal and stem from a deteriorating, exhausted Writer who is here to tell you (and herself) that you are amazing and keep going. I hope you find some encouragement within.

Your mental health comes first and foremost.

Indulge and embrace your creative writing pieces when they come (and when they don’t). Especially when they don’t.

Suffering from Writer’s Block or fluctuating hyperfixation? Me too. So is your favorite author. Welcome to the Writer’s Block Party (all my uwus if you see the pun).

Did you spend five hours on this one segment, forget the last time you ate, develop chapped lips, dry eyes, and a stiff back (time to get up and move), bang your head on the wall, laugh, cry, fidget, take your ADHD meds, deviate to watch YouTube, have an epiphany, curse in frustration and wonder why the hell you do this to yourself? Congratulations, you’re a Writer.

Embrace all the not-so-glamorous sides of writing, and accept the fact they’re going to happen time over again.

When you say “just one more line” and it’s 2:00 AM, I’ll be here to remind you to “go to sleep” (because I’m also depriving myself lol).

Actually, sleeping helps your mind feel refreshed, and it’s good for your health. If you’re struggling with a particular segment, one of the best things you can do is just put a cap on it for the time being, put in a placeholder, and get some shut eye. I know you don’t want to. But you will feel so much better and have more clarity and energy to continue when you wake. Trust me.

More often than not, those words you “just didn’t write down fast enough and now forgot” end up revealing themselves to you later in a much more profound way. Give the words time to get ready. They’re just spiffing up before coming to visit. :)

Be proud of yourself and your prose. Writing is an amazing part of who you are.

That trope has been written 1000 times before? Make it 1001.

You’ve already written this scenario? Write it again.

You’ve just written a single sentence. Now sit back for moment and think: you just wrote something brand new, never before seen. Nobody out there will ever write that sentence or formulate those thoughts the exact same way. You are a unique, mind-blowing, awe-inspiring human being.

Bask in the excitement that comes with a completed piece. Reflect on what you learned throughout and celebrate the little victories.

Don’t be afraid to ask for feedback, but also understand that you might not always get it, and that is OK.

Please re-read your work. Be gentle with yourself. You had to write that very first piece to get to where you are now. Love the process.

Your personal writing success is not based off of kudos or likes or reblogs.

There is no right or wrong way to write.

There is no such thing as “good” writing.

Improvement is becoming of everyone so get comfy, strap in. The journey of a Writer is a lifelong one. Here’s to many more works ahead.

Don’t mourn the words you did or didn’t write. Celebrate the ones you will.

One day, you’ll read a piece that will blow you away—and it will be yours.

There is nothing “shameful” about reblogging your own writing works.

I promise you’ll find your “wow” piece—either in something you’ve already written, or something yet to come.

Baby. Please don’t write out of spite. You’re better than that.

You are just as valid/deserving as the next Writer. And you do belong.

If you feel sad/unworthy when sharing your works or interacting with others’, get to the root of why. Writing should be fun, rewarding, and relaxing. Not shameful, embarrassing, or a chore.

Writing (fanfiction, specifically) is labeled as “transformative works”. Self-explanatory, right? However, if you notice the transformative part begin to have a personal effect on you—a negative one—it’s time to take a step back.

Right now, I can name a single quality you possess: diligence. How do I know? Because you’re a Writer, and the two go hand-in-hand.

Got that single scene in your head but you haven’t completed or even began all the chapters preceding? Bruh. Jot that down right now. You don’t need 20k words beforehand.

Embrace your writing mood swings. The stray, sweet and condensed blurbie. The ideal, bridging drabble. The solid, substantial oneshot. The hefty, elaborate 10k word chapter. Appreciate everything in-between, and that you are capable of all of it.

Nobody remembers that extra word or typo or stray speech mark back all the way back in chapter 3. Tell the little monster in your head to go to hell.

You’re not a weirdo for making facial expressions and mulling through your dialogue aloud. You. Are. A. Writer.

It’s OK if the Readers can’t always see exactly what you envisioned in your head, or the full extent of the picture you painted. We all see colors differently.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with your writing.

In fact, challenge yourself to dabble into a new plot/trope/concept every day, even if only for a few minutes. You may discover you love writing it.

There’s no rush to finish/begin any written work. If you take your time, you will make your mark. You’re not falling behind or running late. Slow down and wait for it. :)

Three cheers for hiatus.

Listen to your body and mind, know your limits and when it’s time to take a break.

Actually take a break. :)

If you feel like you’re falling stagnant in creativity, looking to/revisiting other forms of creative media can help encourage the flow.

Ask for encouragement, and be at peace with asking.

Take shelter in fellow writers. Uplift each other always.

You are/will be someone’s favorite author. :)

You don’t have anything to prove. You have something to share.

Someone is thinking about your work right now.

Someone started a series because they drew inspiration from you.

Personal writing style can reflect a lot on the state of one’s mental health. Try to always be attentive to that of your own.

Self-validation must be cultivated early on or nothing will ever work.

Freestyle every once in a while. Write a snippet, timed, and go—without editing. Write the first thing that comes to mind and go from there. Do it all the way through the set time. When it stops, you’ll find yourself unable to. 3,800 words here we come. :)

Not everything needs an outline. :)

It is completely normal to write your story out of order.

Create guidelines for yourself. If they aren’t working, toss ‘em.

Word vomiting can help you feel better (it’s just how it sounds). By clearing all those jumbled thoughts and scattered concepts, you achieve a clearer objective. Try it sometime.

A rough draft is supposed to be rough.

Sometimes the words come to you quicker than others. Be patient. That is merely the construct of a Writer’s mind. You’re a beautiful enigma.

A sentence written is a story progressing.

Writing is an endurance sport. You must pace yourself and exercise it daily.

You are still a Writer even when the words aren’t on the actual page.

You’re not obligated to a writing/posting schedule.

As you progress in your journey and gain more awareness, don’t sacrifice your style. Those beginning works are what define you. Hold onto them and don’t ever let them go.

You’re the only one cringing—

Remember that sometimes words are elusive and you don’t always have control over them, and that is OK. Sometimes they write themselves. Sometimes your characters come to life and break out into dance across your page. Dance with them. You can wrangle them back when the music stops. :)

There is nothing condemning or embarrassing about asking for a beta. Allow someone to help carry the load.

Allow people to cheer you on—even if they don’t read your work.

It’s OK if your writing style isn’t someone else’s preference.

Be your biggest cheerleader. Sometimes you are all you have.

You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own.

You love that trope/concept/story you just wrote? That’s all that matters. The end.

You will never write good. You will write you. And that is good.

Above all else: remember to write for you.🤍

[rheawritessometimes]

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Childe gets an owie while sparing. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Violence, Swearing, Angry Reader, Injury, Physical Intimacy (Kissing).

{ Notes } Hurting Childe just a little because he refused to come home for me. Lost the 50/50. Reader is a sword user. Reader is suggested to be the Traveler. Self-indulgent again because all my writing is. This one is a real trainwreck but I didn't want to go too long without posting. Something better than nothing? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,404

Meeting Childe at the Golden House every week had been your routine for a while now. Right after you had defeated him the first time, he immediately begged you to train with him and you gave in, unable to bear those puppy-dog eyes. And the entire week he spent pestering you about it.

The whole fiasco with Osial had been put behind the both of you. It was probably true that you were too quick to forgive Childe, but he was just so charming. Not to mention he often paid for your meals, suggesting going out to eat after your sessions or if he saw you around the harbor. On a few occasions, you had been out eating with friends or on your own and found he had picked up your tab.

Since Liyue hadn't been destroyed and you got free food out of it, you really weren't all too upset about the situation. The Snezhnayan was actually pretty easy to get along with when Fatui matters weren't involved. He made you laugh too, so you supposed you could tolerate the once-weekly sparing sessions with him.

Childe called it sparing, but normal people didn't spar with actual weapons and fight like they were going to kill their partner. At first, you had tried to convince him it would be much better and safer for the both of you to use practice weapons instead of sharpened blades and arrows. He was quick to decline, saying something about both of you being competent enough not to get seriously hurt. You thought about refuting that on the basis that he had yet to beat you even once.

Even so, every week you found yourself pushing through the doors to the chamber Childe was always patiently waiting in. You'd never gotten there before him and wondered if he intentionally came early. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he probably paced the room plotting his seemingly unobtainable victory.

The hydro vision paired with his combat experience and skill made him a difficult opponent, but he didn't seem terribly good at strategy. He might have been careless because it wasn't a real fight, but somehow you doubted that. He seemed the type to always give it his all. It could be that was his problem, since his loss usually came due to his exhaustion. Maybe if he didn't spend so much energy trying to show off he'd actually be a proper challenge.

"You're finally here," Childe proclaimed dramatically, voice echoing off the walls, "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way or something. Was starting to worry I'd need to go out and rescue you."

"I'm fifteen minutes early, Childe. How long have you been waiting?" you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow questioningly. You took a moment to shrug your adventuring pack off your shoulders and drop it near the door. You rolled your shoulders, relieved to be free of the weight.

"Ahah, anyways, we should get started. I have some business to attend to today," he responded, indiscreetly ignoring your question. It shouldn't have been very surprising that he didn't wait for your response before sending an arrow flying in your direction, but he'd always waited for you to signal you were ready before starting in the past.

Materializing your sword out of habit more than anything else, you raised it to block the arrow with the flat of the blade. The arrow bounced off the metal with a weak dink, clattering to the ground. If you'd reacted a moment later it would have pierced you.

You shot Childe a dirty look, irate from the cheap shot. He responded by grinning wider and taking aim again. You silently promised that he would face your wrath shortly.

Advancing towards him, you swatted the arrow flying your way with your sword. A bow would be less effective at close range, so you intended to close the distance. The redhead laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the sound at the pace of your advance. Or perhaps it was the building rage in your eyes.

The bow dematerialized, now Childe held dual hydro-blades in his hands in anticipation of close combat. Once in range, he immediately swiped at you with a blade. You stepped back out of the way, quickly bringing up your sword to parry the next slash coming from the opposite blade.

Childe seemed encouraged by you backing away, a smug look crossing his face. You furrowed your brows, he was so unthoughtful. He insists on using real weapons, shoots at you before you're ready, and now he has the audacity to get cocky.

You raise your blade to swing down at him and he catches your sword on crossed hydro-blades. He lets out a little huff of air, not expecting you to strike with such force, but his arms hold steady. You swiftly draw your blade back to slash at him again. Thorough training has you swiping at him with practiced ease while Childe is forced to switch to the defensive.

It gives you a sort of satisfaction to see his expression change to one of worry, it was your first time seeing such a look on him. You had no intention of actually hurting him, but it was nice to scare him a little. Maybe after this, he'd take the dangers of sparing with actual weapons a little more seriously. But probably not.

You're hardly thinking when his hydro-blades finally fail to parry your blows, the flat of your blade slamming into the side of his chest resulting in a soft crack barely loud enough to reach your ears. A look of surprise crosses your face when he lets out a pained grunt, what had happened finally being processed in your mind.

Immediately you drop your sword, ignoring it as it clatters to the ground before dematerializing. You were internally relieved to see his hydro-blades dissipate too, it would have been terribly unsportsmanly of him to stab you now. Stepping forward on instinct, you pause as you realize you're not exactly sure what to do.

Childe clutches his chest as he coughs a few times and a flood of panic washes over you. If you broke his ribs, his lungs could have been punctured. That would be bad.

"Fuck, that hurts," he huffed out before he attempted to gingerly sit down, right in the middle of the Golden House. Childe winced at the movement, but he managed to settle, leaning on his arms for support. His breathing was heavy from the strain of sparing and you felt extremely guilty, broken ribs had a tendency to hurt terribly and pain would flare up with every breath. At least he seemed to be breathing okay, so his lungs were probably intact.

"Let me get something to ease the pain," you said hastily, jogging towards the door to grab your bag. Your first thought was to numb him up before bringing him to Bubu Pharmacy to get some proper help.

"Aw, are you actually worried about me?" he cooed teasingly, maintaining that signature annoying grin despite the pain that followed him speaking. It was easy to ignore him as you rummaged through your bag for something useful.

It crossed your mind that it would be exceedingly difficult to get him all the way back to Liyue if you gave him anything strong. That limited your options rather greatly, adding that on to your lacking medical knowledge and limited variety of resources left you with fewer options than you would have liked. He probably could make it back without any anesthetic but it would be slow and you'd feel terrible for it.

Even with your lack of selection, you were thankful to have some knowledge and materials for this sort of thing, adventuring made you better at improvising and you learned a lot along the way. Taking everything into consideration, you decided it would be best to go with something topical. You could make a salve to numb up the area and then hopefully drag him to Bubu Pharmacy.

"I'm really sorry, Childe," you apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh don't worry about it, this isn't the first time I've broken my ribs. Probably won't be the last, either," he replied with a laugh, which caused him to wince. You only frowned at him as you pulled out some plants to grind up. A rock would have worked, but you kept a mortar and pestle for this kind of thing after realizing you'd be doing it often.

You were soon mashing some leaves and a few petals into a paste, with some water Childe so graciously provided. Having a hydro user around was rather convenient when practicing field medicine.

"Whatcha makin'?" Childe asks after a short period of silence, leaning over to get a closer look. You wonder if he's actually curious or if he just can't tolerate the quiet. It seemed the two of you were always talking when you were together, save for when your sparing got too intense to spare the breath.

"A salve to numb you up so I can drag you to Bubu Pharmacy," you responded, still mostly focused on getting the paste to the right consistency.

"What? No, I can't go. I've got work to do," he argued, moving to stand up now.

You were quick to grab his wrist to prevent him from getting up, furrowing your brows. Childe paused, waiting for your explanation.

"You have at least one broken rib, whatever you need to do can wait," you told him sternly, maintaining eye contact. He turned his gaze away from you to hum in contemplation. He knew well enough that giving injuries time to heal was important, but so was his job.

"Fine, I guess what I was supposed to do today isn't that important," he relented, leaning back into a comfortable position once more. Childe had a feeling that if he had insisted on working you'd have found a way to stop him anyway.

"Can you take off your shirt?" you asked, trying to sound as casual and not awkward as possible once you were satisfied with the consistency of the paste. You would have offered to allow him to apply it himself but you figured it would be less painful this way, plus you'd need to bandage his chest afterward, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Oh my, you're not usually this bold," he teased, reaching to begin undoing the clasps holding his jacket together. His remark made you decide against offering your assistance despite the awareness that even just wriggling out of the jacket probably hurt. It's okay to be a little petty sometimes. As a treat.

Once his torso was bare you shifted your position to be a bit closer and examined his side. There was already the beginning of bruising, but it would get much darker by tomorrow. You ignored the scars and other bruises that were present, very aware of the fact the redhead would tease you for staring if you looked any longer.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assured, "But it'll probably hurt a little."

Childe just hummed, waving off your warning, so you gathered some of the salve on your fingers. You silently wished you'd had gloves that weren't absorbent with you so your hands wouldn't grow numb later.

It was a quick process of spreading the paste over his ribs, but his eyes remained on you the entire time. You couldn't be sure if he was just interested in what you were doing, but it surprised you that he remained entirely silent.

"It'll take a little while to numb up. I'm going to bandage your chest for support. This will hurt more," you informed him, dragging your pack towards you to dig out a roll of bandages.

"Don't worry, I'm a tough boy," he laughed in response, and you could only smile and shake your head at him. You had faith in his strength, but that didn't stop the guilt you felt over being responsible for his pain. It did make you feel better when he started reminiscing on past injuries he'd sustained in battle once you began bandaging him. How he could look back on them so fondly was a mystery to you.

At first, you were mindful to touch him as little as possible while you were wrapping the bandages. They needed to be a little tight to provide support but you tried to ensure they put as little pressure on his ribs as possible. Unfortunately, your fingers started to grow numb and you hadn't realized you'd been bandaging too tightly until Childe let out a soft grunt of pain.

"Fuck, sorry," you apologized, quickly unraveling the last section of bandaging to rewrap it more loosely.

"Don't worry about it," he said, thinking for a moment before adding, "But, if you want to make it up to me, a kiss would make me feel better."

Pausing in your ministrations, you looked up to see a cheeky grin on his face. You raised a brow, giving him an entirely unimpressed expression. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to flirt like this, trying to get a reaction out of you. But as you reached one hand up to gently grab his chin, it was his turn to become flustered.

Leaning up, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before moving away and releasing your hold on him. You patted his cheek twice, giving him an amused grin.

"You're welcome."

"Hey! That doesn't count!" Childe immediately whined, pouting at you. You could only laugh at his playful antics as you finally finished wrapping his chest.

"You're cruel, you know that?" the Snezhnayan grumbled, eyebrows still furrowed as he continued to pout. He really did seem like a spoiled kid at this moment and you laughed again, causing his frown to deepen.

You knew his demeanor was all theatrical, but as you stared at his expression you found yourself leaning towards him again. You gently pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss when his hands eagerly flew up to your face. You indulged in the kiss for a few moments, smirking when he followed you as you pulled away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you halted his attempt to continue.

"You can have another kiss once you get checked out at Bubu Pharmacy."

-

If you read all that, I'm sorry lol. I wanted to spend more time on it but I don't want to take too long posting things. Anyways, if you have any better ideas for what I should write send them in. Please.

There's a part two now: Part 2