#if you have those blocks of time to schedule for writing at all

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 5/?)

(I'm so sorry for the wait! I had horrible writer's block this month and am still figuring out a writing schedule. I know I said this would be posted yesterday but I had stayed up all night so you all wouldn't have to wait anymore, lol!)

111 ac

Daemons pov

I watch as my dear wife breaks her fast, she feasts on mutton as if it’s the finest roast in all the Seven Kingdoms. Gods these Vale men truly do love their sheep, they must fuck them and then eat them. Makes one wonder if you should worry for the whores, must be why their options in the brothels are so abysmal. As she eats I can’t help but feel a sense of rage that I had to leave you in tears just so I can sit here and have glaring matches with this Bronze Bitch. The thought of you brings back the memory of when I left. I don’t think there is a moment where I don’t think about it.

“No! Please don’t leave! Please! You promised! You promised you’d never leave me!” You sob out as you tug as hard as your little body can on the sleeve of my doublet. You are trying with all your might to hold me to your room and never let me leave. 

Your reaction is not blameworthy, for the last time I visited my Bronze Bitch was when you were only one nameday old. You have not had a day in your memory where I was not there by your side ready to wipe your tears or play whatever game you have come up with, most likely with the help of Lady Laena. 

I kneel in front of you and hold your hands in mine, I can’t help the ghost of a smile when you rest your head on my chest, trying to hide from the inevitable. “Your father, the King, has demanded this of me, my girl. If I could stay you know I would, but I cannot defy the King.” I say calmly as I stroke your hair.

You lift your head and look up at me, and I swear my heart shatters when I see those traitorous tears roll down your little face, those poppet lips pouting and trembling. I’ve never wished to kill my brother, but your little face looking so heartbroken makes me wonder if the day may yet come. The urge to release his shoulders of the dead weight of his head is 

“Bu–but Stromchaser will miss Caraxes. They took her babies. She's been so sad, and now she's losing Caraxes? Don’t do that to my Stormchaser.” You plead helplessly, trying to find any way for me to stay. A desperate little girl trying to keep her beloved Kepus from leaving her. 

I think about the day the Dragonkeepers had taken Stormchaser’s clutch. She went searching for them as if her very life depended on it, but since they keep the dragon eggs hidden in the deepest smallest caves she couldn’t find her clutch. Well more like she couldn’t reach her clutch. Supposedly Caraxes killed the ones who took them, exacting revenge on those who brought his girl’s pain.

“I know, Sweetling and Caraxes will miss his girls just as I will.” I say as I caress your cheek.

Just as I was about to climb on my horse to go to the dragonpit I heard your little voice yell out. “Wait!” I look back and see you running towards me holding your stuffed Caraxes and Stormchaser I had made for you. Your Nursemaid is trying to keep up and calls you back but you’re determined to get to me.

Once you caught up to me you held out your stuffed Stormchaser. You must see my confusion as you explain why you have the stuffed toy outstretched towards me. 

“So you and Caraxes don’t forget about your best girls.”

 I can’t help but smile and take the proffered gift. “Of course, and Caraxes staying so you and Stormchaser don’t forget about us?” I ask fondly but I am then confused when you shake your head. 

“Me and Stormchaser aren’t old like you and Caraxes, Kepus, we don’t need to worry about our memories like you two do.” You say matter-of-factly, and I can’t help the burst of laughter that erupts from me.

“Of course, you girls are looking out for us.” I say smiling.

“Princess please, it is time for your lessons!” your nursemaid says from where she stands far behind you.

“You best be going, Sweetling.” I say as I motion the nursemaid forward as I can tell you will most likely not be moving of your own volition. Once she has you in her arms I get on my horse and look at you one last time seeing you fighting your tears as I leave you. 

The only thing on my mind since then was yours and Stormchaser's cries. Yours for your dear Kepus to ‘come back!’ and Stromchaser calling for her friend, her bonded, her ma–

I’m cut out of the memory by a runner coming over to me holding a sealed scroll. “Fr-from Kingslanding, my Prince.” The boy says as he tries to catch his breath. 

I take the scroll and wave him away, the boy scurries off without question more than likely having to do another task that is of importance. I look at the seal and sigh in annoyance when I see it’s my brother's. Most likely reminding me of the lack of Children in my union and that I must change that. Why he thinks sending this missive will change anything about my union, I do not know.  I break the seal and look at it ready to storm out of this dining hall to train or fuck the day away, but instead, a smile comes to my face. 

It seems my brother has allowed you to send me a letter using his seal. The only words on the page is “I miss you Kepus.” and under is a stick figure drawing of me and you with Caraxes and Stormchaser flying in the sky behind us, or at least that is what I assume those blobs are as it seems you made wings for them.

I can’t remember what happened between me opening your letter, and me flying back to Kingslanding. But one thing is clear, unless my brother exiles me I will never leave your side again, and even then it will not be without challenge on his part.

I wait outside the gates of the Red Keep watching as Caraxes and Stromchaser fly through the sky together finally reunited. Right when I landed your winged beast came bursting out of the dragonpit, not even the strongest and most experienced Dragonkeepers could stop her. 

I keep wishing to twist the Valyrian steel rings my father and grandsire gave me but am reminded that they are now gone for what I had made for you. I look down at the one my mother gave me, so small it barely fits on my pinky finger and if I took it off most likely would never be able to get it back on, I could not bring myself to give up one of the few things she had given me before her passing. 

Once the gates open I get off my horse quickly as I see you sprint towards me, not even seeming to care that your father and mother call out to you. I bend down and scoop you up as you hold onto me as tightly as your little arms can. 

“I missed you so much, Kepus! Please never leave me again, I was so lonely without you.” you say as you cling to me as if, if you let go I will disappear.

Surely I should feel sorry for your loneliness but I can’t seem to find any type of sadness for you, only satisfaction that you need me no matter what that Cunttower says. I know a part of your loneliness was that your dear friend Laena had to return to Driftmark for the moon a week after I had departed, but I decided to push that thought to the side and smile knowing you need me to abate your loneliness.

“I missed you as well, ñuha riña, and trust me I will never leave you unless your father demands it of me.” I say. You look up at me and frown, not liking that I may leave you again, but Instead of crying or throwing a fit you nod pouting as you hide your face in the croak of my neck again.

(my girl)

When I walk over to my brother he smiles and rests his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you, brother, I hope your time with your wife was fruitful?” he states and asks. 

Of course, he is worried about if I stuck my cock in that woman's cunt. Does he not get that if I did sheath myself in her it would either wilt away or be cut off by the razorblades in her blasted cunt? And even if I did try, there is no way something so innocent could grow in that septic chasm the Maesters call her womb. 

I only hum in response and turn my attention back towards you. You are watching as Caraxes and Stromchaser fly through the sky together, it almost seems as if they are dancing through the sky as if they are showing the world how dragons truly dance.  

“I seem to recall another pair that is not yet complete.” I say as I reach into my satchel and hold your stuffed Stormchaser. You gasp theatrically and hold the toy close as you smile up at me. I had made sure that it would not be stained in any way, going as far as making sure the maids of Runestone did not touch it.  

As I carry you into the Red Keep you tell me the story of why Lady Laena’s dragon was called Mongrel. “She liked to eat dogs! Can you believe that? When Laena found out she scolded Moonfyre, I’ve never seen Moonfyre so sad.” 

“That is most displeasing.” I say smirking as you nod enthusiastically, far too young to catch the hint of sarcasm in my voice. Gods I wonder how you would react if you ever find out that Caraxes has feasted on people. 

“And did you know Stromchaser was known as Grey Ghost? Supposedly because she was so shy they could only see in the clouds and mist, like a ghost, and because of the clouds and mist she appeared grey instead of white. At least that is what Maester Mellos told me in my lessons.” You say excitedly. I do not have the heart to tell you most know of this fact, for it is new and wondrous to you so I will listen diligently, as I do most things you tell me that I already know. 

After supper, you are still so hyper that you are running around your chambers as I pretend to chase you. I should not have snuck you that extra piece of cake, for everyone knows sugar to children is like a cup of coffee to a man. But you looked so darling clutching that fork in your precious tot fingers I just couldn’t say no when you requested another. 

When I pick you up you squeal in delight, as I tickle your sides until you beg for mercy. I sit you on your bed and pull out a gift for you from my pocket. I hold out a bracelet made of Valyrian steel, with pearls and a ruby on the chain, there is a dragon charm to represent the blood of the dragon that flows through you. “This is for you, ñuha riña. It is Valyrian steel for now, me and you share something of our shared lineage.” I say as I clasp the bracelet to your little wrist and kiss your palm once it is fitted. 

You gasp and look at the bracelet touching the pearls and ruby. “I love pearls and rubies, it’s beautiful Kepus! I’m never taking it off!” You say as you hug me tightly. 

I only smile and kiss your brow as you admire your new gift, when I look to your door I see Rhaenyra seething. I brush it off as I usually do with that over-dramatic girl I call niece.

Rhaenyra’s pov

I watch as Daemon teaches you High Valyrian, he’s always done such things with you but never once in my memory has he done so with me. You so effortlessly captivate his attention whereas I must fight for it, and even then I am lucky if it is a forced smile. And now you have something I’ve always wanted, something I’ve begged Father for, for the past three years. A piece of Valyrian jewelry. 

You get everything I’ve wanted so easily. A dragon at the age of three, while I had to wait till I was the age of seven before Father let me into the dragonpit. A larger dragon than my beloved Syrax, so now everyone only speaks of that or that your Stromchaser was a wild dragon. What a silly little name. 

You have a friend you share interests in while I have Alicent, a kind girl if not a dull one. 

And the one that boils my blood the most, is that you have Daemon’s love and affection. I have desired this, him, for as long as I can remember. But does he look my way? No, of course not, for why would he waste his time on a girl who is almost a woman grown instead of a child? 

The only thing that brings me respite is that even if he did marry you, you’d only be his broodmare to pump his children into while he would seek me for true pleasure. I am called the Relams Delight for a reason.

I’m cut out of my mussing when my Father walks up to me. “I know you wish for something of our Valyrian heritage. I have been working hard to find the perfect one, I had not known that Daemon would give up his rings to have something made for your sister. Know I have not forgotten your request, my beloved girl.” He says as he strokes my cheek. 

I suppose there truly is something I can beat you at, our Father's love.

I personally see this as Princesses bracelet. The green bead is a ruby and the silver beads are pearls.

@sugutoad @baybaybear1 @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff

big thanks to my wonderful friend @sugutoad for making the banner for this fic.

[pastafossa]

idk if this has been asked/answered before but do you go to school at the moment, pasta? if so, how do you balance writing & updating :,)

I do not, I've fortunately graduated and thus have more time! I did write fic while I was in college, admittedly, but to keep the balance with all the papers I needed to write, I was generally restricted to shorter fics. I think on my previous ao3 account, the longest story I wrote by wordcount was 30k, longest by chapter was 10 but just drabbles. Which is hilarious when you consider that the next time I tried a longer fic, I just jumped in and now it's 850k words.

But yeah, honestly, I'm sure there are some people who'd be able to write something this long, this regularly while in school buuuut... I'm not sure I'd have been one, cause I don't know if I'd have had the time. Even now that I'm done with school, I have to be very disciplined about writing - setting aside time to write/research, sometimes delaying other things I might want to do, writing even my brain is like 'meh don't feel like it'. Which is fine! Because I actively enjoy the process, even when it's difficult. I love the victorious feeling of getting a chapter done even when it's been a fight. And I want this to hoooopefully be my job one day, so I'm happy to get in the practice. But I won't lie that it's time-consuming and in some ways like an additional job if you want to get that many words written, edited, and then posted every week. I'm constantly writing or editing in grocery store lines, late at night, during breakfast or lunch, whenever and wherever I can, and it takes up a good chunk of my free time each week. You really have to love what you do, and when you do set aside a chunk of time to write, you need to force yourself to write. That gets easier as you go, fortunately, as you convince your brain 'uh yeah idgaf if you feel like it, you're vomiting words onto the page whether you like it or not'. I've beaten my brain with the You Will Fucking Write stick enough times that it knows to go when I say go, I don't care if it's rough or messy or clumsy, just get something out and fix it in editing, but that was a hard lesson to learn in the beginning. But learn that and you will save so much time.

I hope these little bits and pieces could help even if I'm out of school now!

[nanowrimo]

4 Tips for Autistic Writers

Autistic writers can face unique challenges when it comes to writing. NaNo Participant Auden Halligan has tips to handle some of those challenges!

So, you’ve just sat down at your desk, all ready to work on your next chapter, but you just can’t seem to start. Something is itching at your brain, and no matter how hard you think, you can’t figure it out. For autistic writers, that itch might be even harder to get around when compounded with autistic inertia, introspection issues, and sensory processing disorder — even if we were super excited to get started, sometimes the stumbling blocks are enough to keep us from going anywhere at all.

Here are four tips to identify your struggles and work around them rather than against them as an autistic writer!

1. Schedule your writing time appropriately

While keeping a schedule can help you stave off unwanted change in your routine, the need to switch to another task when the clock strikes the hour sometimes feels like a monumental task, one that eventually becomes detrimental to your creative pursuits.

If switching tasks is the biggest hurdle to your writing, setting a designated writing time with no other plans around it could do the trick. Oftentimes, just one hour of time to transition from doing dishes to sitting down at your computer to write is exactly what you need to get past that point and find your writing headspace.

2. Make sure your sensory environment is right

Sometimes getting into that writing headspace is harder than normal, but you can’t put your finger on a reason. Chances are, you’re not quite ready until you have your sensory needs met and you can fully focus on your story.

Personally, I like to be on the couch with my water bottle, a playlist at just the right volume, and a comfortable jacket or hoodie on. For you, the ideal sensory space might involve a desk and a snack, a pet nearby, and a quiet room. For others, it could be outside or even at a library or coffee shop. Autistic people are all different and so are their sensory needs, so this one is super subjective — do what works best for you!

3. Take breaks often

Writing can be exhausting, and if you’re struggling to keep going, you might need to take a pause. If you’re like me and struggle with remembering to hydrate and eat once you’re deep in a task, use your break to get some water and a snack. If you’re having trouble staying focused, get up and move around and stim or go outside to give your brain a reset. If you feel like you’ve gotten some good progress done, however small, reward yourself — do something related to your special interest, dance with a pet, and celebrate your little (or big!) win!

The pomodoro method is a good way to keep yourself from working too long without a break, and if that doesn’t work for you, methods like the Eisenhower method with breaks interspersed and even simply inserting breaks into your scheduled writing time are just as valid.

4. Don’t be afraid to skip around

Another thing that often trips us autistic people up is needing to follow the story down its natural progression, from start to middle all the way to the finish. But inevitably, once we’ve gotten past the initial excitement of having the project started, we hit a stumbling block…and the project gets abandoned. I’ve left behind countless projects because I lost interest after hitting a scene I wasn’t excited for after just a few chapters.

To combat this, try writing out of order! Skip ahead to the scene directly after your stumbling block. You could also skip to the next scene your favorite character is in or even to the climax if it helps you move forward. If you’re having trouble putting your first words down, try writing a random scene in the middle of your story to get into the groove of writing your characters.

Alternately, if you can’t abide by the out of order method and really need to get your characters from Point A to Point B, try putting the scene you’re stuck on in brackets. For example:

[Character 1 and Character 2 fight over the decision to kick Character 3 off the team. 2 leaves in anger.]

It’s simple, efficient, and gets you out of that particular rut so you can keep moving toward that sweet, sweet conversation you’ve wanted to write since Day 1.

Now go forth and write, my friends!

Auden Halligan is a creator through and through. She’s been writing her entire life, but didn’t start participating in NaNoWriMo until 2017–right now she’s working on developing a TV series (or two!) and has several novels and short films in the drafting phase. Auden is currently a college student studying film production and hoping to minor in disability studies. You can find her on her very sparse Twitter at ink.and.spite. Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

If you’re an autistic writer, check out the Pillow Fort in the NaNoWriMo forums! It’s a group for people who are neurodivergent, have disabilities, mental health concerns, or physical challenges that affect their lives.

[slytherinshua]

NIGHTS WITH YOU

genre. fluff. warnings. food (ramen). pairing. soobin x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. requested by @blue-jisungs (my baby) for #25: "are those my clothes" and #34: "where's my goodnight kiss?" a/n. i've been writing just so much sleepy fluff either sleepy morning fluff or sleepy bedtime fluff im not complaining cause its always so soft but yeah :(

Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. His eyes immediately scoured around the room for you, and when he didn’t find you anywhere, a frown etched on his face. Since he had been at practice all day, you forced him to take a shower before delivering any hugs or kisses, despite how much he begged for them. It was a reasonable request, of course. He was sweaty and stinky— of course you’d rather kiss a clean Soobin. But your boyfriend hadn’t seen you all day and simply needed to be as close to you as possible for the rest of the night. 

He located you quickly, following the smell of spicy noodles to the kitchen. His eyes softened as he saw your figure, wearing one of his black t-shirts.  He pouted, coming up behind you to hold you in a back hug. 

“Are those my clothes?” He asked softly, a giddy smile growing on his face as soon as you laughed.

“You left your drawer open. They were practically asking for me to take them. Plus, they’re more comfortable than my pyjamas.” You said simply, stirring the sauce packet into the pot of ramen noodles you were preparing. 

Although Soobin’s shirts were much too big for you to wear daily, they made for the perfect oversized sleeping garment. As they were designed to fit your 6 foot man both height wise and broad back wise, they practically swallowed your figure. But you loved it, especially the way the shirts smelled exactly like your boyfriend. Soobin didn’t mind. How could he when you looked so cute in his clothes?

“We already share everything anyway. Including that ramen—?“

“No! You’re not getting any!” You shoved your boyfriend off of your back, defensively shielding the ramen pot from his prying hands. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way through, but each reach he took got expertly blocked by your chopsticks.

“That is not one bite. That’s like, 6 at least!” You slouched back onto Soobin’s chest, keeping up your pretend grumpiness after you had finally agreed to give him just one bite. Truthfully, you had prepared the ramen more for him than you in the first place. You just wanted to see him eat well after practice. But it was always fun to tease him. Admitting that you carefully prepared them for your boyfriend would make you look unbelievably whipped. Which you were, but you weren’t about to admit it out in the open.

“Here, open up.” Soobin said, holding the chopsticks up for you, feeding you the bite of ramen carefully. Maybe he was just as equally whipped. You whipped your frown off your face and snuggled closer to your boyfriend, enveloped by his fresh scent and warm skin. 

“I can’t believe Beomgyu got to see you more this week than me. It’s not fair.” You sighed, thinking back to the past couple of days. Even when Soobin didn't have a schedule, he’d busied himself in the company building with Beomgyu, playing games or writing lyrics. 

You had nothing against the younger member, you were as close to him as you were any of Soobin’s friends. But nothing hit you quite as hard as the loneliness you felt when Soobin was away from you. It felt nice to be back in his arms, knowing that there was nothing left for that day that would prevent you from falling asleep and waking up next to him. 

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” Soobin asked once you were back in his arms after doing the dishes. 

“Right here.” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to bring his face down to your lips. As always, Soobin’s lips tasted heavenly. And, just like always, Soobin was the clingier of you two. He chased your lips every time you pulled away, causing you both to giggle. Countless soft pecks were placed around your face until his head hit the pillow and he gathered you up in his arms, close enough to hear his relaxed breath and steady heart beat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep, head resting against his chest and your back blanketed by his arms.

↳ txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss

[strang3lov3]

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

[bunnywritesjunk]

Hiiii love got sent here by a lil birdie that told me you can fulfill my ghost x hybrid bunny reader request here 🥹💀💗

Honestly wanna know how ghost would handle a bratty bunny that’s going through heat, but is too stubborn to go to him about, when seriously he’s alway down to tame that insatiable lil beast inside of heerrr 😋🤞🏽

Thank you so much for writing anything period, seriously. 🐰💗

Hello my fellow bunny. I had a lot of fun writing this. I'll probably do more hybrid reader stuff if people request it. I feel like Ghost would be a bit of a meanie in this situation, he's a brat tamer for sure. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Heat, helping through heat, unprotected sex, Hybrid!reader, edging, bratty reader.

A helping Hand

Your ears twitched as the sun poured in through the window. You sat up in your cot rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You sat up, your pajama shirt sticking to your bedding with pools of sweat. You padded off to your bathroom immediately hopping in the shower. Dull cramps in your lower stomach made you groan.

“Oh, not now. Please.” You pleaded with your biology.

You've been taking suppressants for your heat ever since you moved to this base. You gave your body a break and went off suppressants when you were on leave but this time something or someone had triggered your heat. You had a sneaking suspicion as to who it is. Being a weapons mechanic meant you didn't have to be around people very often. As long as a certain someone wasn't here you should be ok. You finished your cold shower and got dressed for the day. You tucked your ears under a cap and hid your tail in your pants. Although there were other hybrids on base, you didn't exactly want to display your rabbit features everywhere. You walked quickly to your station, avoiding any soldiers that might come your way.

You entered the weapons room and got to work. You had a few gun inspections to do. The real work wouldn't come until Ghost and his squadron came back from their mission. They were scheduled to arrive in two days, but you prayed it took them longer than that. Ghost would smell your heat, the embarrassment of having to ask him was too much. You weren't some needy bunny, you can handle your heat alone. After a few inspections were done you wrote up your paperwork for them the be cleaned and handed out for the next mission. Being engrossed in work took your mind off your impending heat.

First, you smelled him. The faint scent of Ghost. No, he wasn't supposed to be back yet. He slammed open the door unceremoniously placing all his weapons on the nearby table. Crap you kept your head down and hoped the smell of gunpowder covered your heat.

“Miss me, bunny?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. His wolf tail had a slight wag to it.

“You're back early, how was the mission?”

“Easy, mostly recon.” He sighed.

You gestured at the guns he put down. “I'll get those checked out for you.”

Ghost walked up to the counter you were behind and leaned on it.

“You had lunch yet?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Come on then.” He headed toward the door.

“I'm not that hungry, you can go without me.” You didn't meet his eyes.

“Hmm.” He slowly walked behind the weapons counter blocking the only exit.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, why would there be anything wrong?” You shrugged.

He leaned down to your level, his eyes peeking at you through blonde eyelashes. You backed up as far as you could only able to get a few more inches away from him.

“You're not a very good liar, bunny.” He stood up to his full height and walked out, leaving you flustered and hot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day went by painfully slow. Your heat intensified after Ghost paid his visit. It came over you in waves, almost causing you to double over at times. You considered asking him for help many times but ultimately decided against it. After work was done you practically ran to your room. You'd already asked your supervisor if you could have the next few days off, explaining the situation. You opened the door and shut it quickly behind you before shedding your clothes off. Your tail ached from being hidden all day. Your fuzzy ears stretched out, one stayed straight up and the other folded down. You flopped down onto your bed eager to use your toys.

You reached into the drawer on your bedside table, only to find nothing. You sat up and searched frantically. Where did you put them? This is bad. You looked under your bed, in your bathroom, in your dresser, nothing. The frustration started getting to you. Your eyes welled up with tears as you looked. Your feet thumped in anger every time you looked and they weren't there. As you checked your bathroom for the third time a knock sounded at your door. You grabbed your robe as you were only in underwear and slipped it on. You stomped to the door and wiped your tears before opening it.

A skull mask was staring down at you. Ghost held up a familiar velvet bag and leaned on your doorframe.

“Looking for something?”

You reached up to grab the bag but he kept it out of reach.

“Give it to me, Simon!” You whined.

He pushed himself off the door and into your room closing the door behind him. The blonde shaggy tail wagged lazily behind him, clearly amused by your distress.

“Now, why didn't my bunny come to me for help?” He asked.

Your ears folded down against your head in embarrassment. “I don't need your help.”

He walked past you and put your toys back in the bedside drawer. He started taking off his gloves.

“Ok, thank you for returning them, you can leave now.” You said.

He placed his gloves on the nightstand. He turned to you, his eyes darkened. He stalked toward you slowly almost as if he was ready to pounce. You looked away from him but held your ground. He towered over you and tilted his head.

“You always were a little brat huh?” His words annoyed you.

Before you can give him a rebuttal he took his mask off giving you a full view of his scarred face. He grabbed your jaw roughly contrasting the gentle kiss he gave you. His tongue caressed your mouth open. Your knees weakened as he pulled you flush against his body by your waist. Your heat urged your body to submit, but your mind wasn't there yet. You pulled away breathlessly. He still had a firm hold on the side of your face.

“I don't need your help, Simon.” You said once again quietly.

Simon's golden ear twitched in annoyance. “Right.”

He picked you up by the hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked you to your bed, embarrassment written on your face. He laid you down on the bed, pressing his hips into yours. You whimpered at the friction he created. He leaned down to nibble and suck your neck making you squirm. His hand made its way past your robe and into your panties with ease. Your wetness made it easy for him to dip his fingers into you. You gasped at the intrusion, practically melting into the mattress.

“Don't need my help, but you're so wet for me, Bunny.”

“I bet you were gonna think of me anyway.” Simon purred into your ear.

You moaned weakly as he worked his finger into you, his thumb circling your clit gently. His nose grazed your own, taking in the look of ecstasy on your face. Your orgasm came quickly and with force. Simon knew exactly what buttons to push to get you shivering under him. He unsheathed his fingers from you and popped them in his mouth, tasting your slick.

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded.

“ I...Simon..." You whined.

“Tell me, Bunny.”

You covered your face muffling your words.

“I can't hear you, love. Speak up.”

“Please help me.....through my heat....”

“That's more like it." He purred.

He opened your robe and slid your panties off. In his haste, he ripped them a bit and you whined. You ignored your small protest and worked on your bra removing it expertly.

“I'll buy you some new ones.” He said quickly.

Ghost shed his clothing and flipped you over on your stomach.

“Ass up.” He tapped your hip.

You got on your knees arching your back deeply to present yourself to him. You wiggled your ass eager to have him inside you. He used a hand to steady your hips and slid his tip in between your folds. He slowly pushed himself into savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

“Ohh, you feel so good, Bunny.” He growled.

You were almost incoherent, the daze of your heat clouding your mind. You pushed your hips against his trying to get more friction. Simon bottomed out into you and started thrusting into you hard. He kept his pace slow at first, slamming his hips into yours. His tip grazed your cervix in a deliciously painful way. You whimpered every time it did. As his pace sped up, Simon's sighs turned into grunts and moans. He enjoyed watching your fluffy bunny tail bounce as he rammed into you.

“You take me so well.” The praise he gave you made your walls flutter.

He reached around your leg to rub your clit. Your moans got more desperate and guttural as your second orgasm approached. He slowed his movements ever so slightly to drag your pleasure out longer.

“I wanna cum Si, Please.” You whined.

“Only when I tell you, Bunny. You know the rules.” He grunted out.

“And since you didn't come to me first, you need a little bit of a punishment hmm?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

His thrust slowed, still keeping them firm. His hips slapped against your ass rhythmically. Your moans got higher pitched, his edging did a number on your heat-ridden body. Your legs trembled underneath you, the stimulation becoming more intense by the second. Luckily he didn't torture you for long.

“Cum for me.”

Simon's pace sped up and you came almost instantly. Your vision was fuzzy as you collapsed onto the bed. He bent down and caressed your head as you recovered from your orgasm. Simon rubbed your ear lovingly.

“I'm not done with you, Bunny.”

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[charmedbystars]

Hey darling! Do you think you could write about e-42 miles realising his girlfriend needs glasses and having to force her to the opticians,please?

pairing: e-42 miles x stubborn reader

summary: miles realizes you need glasses, but you're adamant of not needing them.

content: no warnings!

a/n: i absolutely loved this request and i FEEL this because i hate glasses and live off of contacts only. i hope this is close to what you wanted:))))

miles and y/n had been dating for a couple of months now. it wasn’t a recent relationship where they both needed to be hesitant around each other, you guys were wayyy past that stage as shown by each other’s constant teasing and messing around. of course, miles was a bit closed off and reserved, but you were breaking down his walls surely and you were positive you guys had no boundaries at this point. 

everyone at brooklyn visions academy was shocked when they found out you two were dating. you were pretty known around school and were nice to everyone, being the opposite of miles, who had a small group of guys that he didn’t even hang with outside of school.

now, you guys didn’t announce it and it was more of a “private but not secret” relationship, so you nor miles paid attention to the chatter. 

which brings everything to you sitting in math class, the only class you have with your boyfriend. thankfully there was no assigned seating in that class so you sat next to miles. as much fun as it was sitting with miles, there was a problem… being that all you wanted to do was talk to him all class period. 

“i was thinking we go to that new bakery that opened and drop some off at your mom’s wor-”

“y/n l/n, would you please tell me what’s the answer to the equation on the board?” the teacher cut you off, obviously annoyed by your chatter.

standing up, you walked to the board and looked at the equation before telling her the answer, there was no way you got into visions and didn’t know how to answer this question. “mmm teacher think she slick trying to embarrass me,” you thought. the teacher raised an eyebrow, confused as to why you stood up and walked all the way to the board when you could’ve told her the answer from your desk. honestly, you didn’t even notice what you did. you just walked back to your desk peacefully and sat down again. 

“ma, you know you could’ve just told her, no need for all that walking up and down like this is a fashion show.” rolling your eyes at miles, “the school is my runway,” you responded.

the rest of that class zoomed by and it was time for lunch. you and miles had your own little schedule for lunch, some days you guys would sit together and other days you would sit with your respective friends. today was one of those days that you guys would sit together though. walking together to the lunch line, there was a menu posted up on a board. usually, you just look at the board and go tell the lunch ladies what you wanted. looking at the menu, you squinted and looked at the menu for a couple of seconds before rubbing your eyes and going to the lunch ladies. normally, anyone would’ve ignored that small gesture, but miles being very observant of everything, noticed your action. 

getting your lunches and walking over to a bench to eat lunch outside, miles gave you a nudge, “you good, ma? no headache or somethin’?” 

“huh? no, i’ve been good all day, how come?” you asked. 

“nuthin’ just askin’ amor.”

and that was the end of that. the rest of the school day went by pretty quick too, which then came up your idea of going to the bakery that you were talking about in math class. walking to the bakery was pretty peaceful and it wasn’t far from the school, only a couple blocks down. the bakery was cute and it’s design being very minimalistic, other than the glass case full of different pastries. 

immediately walking up to the glass case to take in all of its beauty, miles walked up behind you, “get whatever you want, mama. let’s pick up something for my mom too, just like you said,” you looked over your shoulder and grinned. there was so much to choose from that you didn’t even know what you wanted. deciding to get something to eat there and getting a box to go, you ordered a strawberry cupcake, miles just went with a classic cheesecake. 

“they have milkshakes and smoothies. do you want something to drink with your cupcake?” 

glancing over at the overhead menu, you squinted and squinted, but nothing helped. “uhm, do you mind reading out the flavors for me please?” you asked miles politely.

“can you not see the board?”

“i can, i just want to hear your voice,” you tried defending yourself, but miles already seemed suspicious of you. deciding not to point it out in that moment, miles read out the menu and you made your choice. 

wrapping everything up and going back to miles’ place, walking in you both greeted rio. miles let her know about the pastries you guys brought back before heading to his room (door has to be cracked open, according to rio). in miles’ slightly tidy room, you sat yourself on the ground and proceeded to pull out all notebooks to work on all the homework you were assigned. while looking over your notes to get started on your homework, miles suddenly interrupted your train of thoughts. 

“hey ma, i was thinking you should get your eyes checked,” he said. 

“miles what did you just say?” 

“not in that way, but like go to those doctors and get glasses. i’ve been noticing you squinting or not being able to read boards and stuff.”

you glanced over at him and shook your head, “i think i’m fine, i don’t need no doctors or anything.”

miles just shrugged, deciding not to argue with you at that moment. it definitely wasn’t the end there especially when miles cares about your well-being dearly, but he just put it on the back of his head for now. 

skipping to the next day, you were in class with miles when the teacher decided to do powerpoint notes. you groaned in your mind at the fact. you didn’t want to admit you needed glasses, plus it’s completely normal for people not being able to see far away. there’s literally nothing wrong, is what you continued to tell yourself. trying to jot down the notes as best as you can, you snuck a look over at miles’ paper, deciding to copy his notes since you couldn’t really see the board. suddenly, miles shifted his position causing you to not be able to see his paper. 

“psst, miles can you please let me copy your notes?” you whispered. he shifted his paper back to you so you can copy his notes, before saying, “what did i tell you yesterday, y/n?” you chose not to reply, pretending that you didn’t hear him, continuing to copy his notes. “i know you hear me, babe,” he kept on trying to tell you until you asked the teacher if you could use the bathroom. your thought process being that leaving might get him to drop it. miles just huffed knowing that you wouldn’t listen to him, when an idea popped in his head. 

you returned from the bathroom around seven minutes later. knowing that you had even more notes to catch up on, you picked up your pencil and quickly dropped it when you looked down at your notebook. 

your notebook was flipped to random page and the words, “GET UR EYES CHECKED” was written across the page. you sent a glare over at the only person that could be the culprit. 

“if i make an appointment, will you get off my back?” you asked.

“of course, baby,” miles gave you the purest smile as if he has done no wrong. you rolled your eyes at him before bringing at hand to sit over your mouth, trying to hide the smile growing on your face. you knew your boyfriend meant well, so there was no way that you were actually mad or annoyed at him. 

the rest of the class went by fast now that you had miles cooperating with you and willing to share notes quickly. by the end of class, miles pulled you out of class quickly with a tug of your wrist to the cafeteria. getting your lunch and going to your bench, miles pulled out his phone, shuffling through apps and the internet looking for the nearest optometrist. finding one and pulling up their phone number, before he called them to book you an appointment, he told you, “sabes que lo hago porque te quiero mucho? i love you.” you simply looked away, hiding your face and mumbling the three precious words back. 

miles booked you an appointment about three days later from when he called. there was no doubt that miles was going to the appointment with you. you would've asked to come with you if he hadn't anyways.

you've never been to an optometrist before so naturally you were nervous. you thought you would be able to have miles with you the whole time, but your lifeline was broken when you were pulled into a room in the back and miles couldn't go with you. frowning when you had to let go of your boyfriend’s hand, miles gave you a reassuring squeeze.

the whole process was weird for you, the drying eye drops, looking into a little hole and seeing a hot air balloon, and the constant asking of "which is better? one to two?" but finally everything was over. you went back to sit in the waiting room with miles, telling him about the weird experience. a couple minutes of waiting around when the optometrist called you back and miles was allowed with you this time.

"well, you do need glasses and here's the prescription. we have a couple options of glasses out on display that you can try on or order some elsewhere simply with proof of your prescription."

you took the paper and thanked the doctor. leaving hand in hand in miles, you didn't even wanna look at his face knowing that he would have a smug "i told you so" look on his face. you walked in the direction of the display glasses, looking at each one by one. grabbing a simple one with your favorite color as the frames, you tried them on and looked in the mirror before looking over at miles.

"sooo, what do you think?"

"i think you look like a cute nerd."

"shut up because both of us know who the actual nerd is here," you crossed your arms.

"i'm just joking, mami. i like those on you."

you hummed before going to the front desk and asked for those frames. the lady at the counter put in an order for you and told you that it would take about a week and a half for them to be ready. you nodded and proceeded to pay when miles grabbed your hand and moved it so he could pay.

"i'm paying babe. you look cute in them so it's on me," he said and tapped his phone on the card reader before you could protest. you were thankful that the optometrist here didn't charge you a whole kidney for them because you knew glasses could be expensive.

walking out the optometrist, you wanted to hold your tongue but you knew miles had a point in it all, "thank you for taking care of me, amor," you mumbled. miles stopped on the sidewalk and pulled you into a hug.

"i would say i told you so after everything, but i'm always here to you, mama." giving you a peck, you both continued to stroll down the sidewalk, holding each other's hands on the way to the dorms.

"miles?" he gave a hum in response. "can we get ice cream before we go back to the dorms?" you asked.

[c0llisiion]

OBSESSION — m.yg

★pairing : min yoongi + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: perv!myg , neighbour!au , drabble , panty sniffing , masturbation — lmk if i missed any! ^^

★W/C: 965

A/N : hiiii! I made this a drabble cus i be going through that writers block fever 🤒 its kinda rusty and eh imo but LOLLL hope you enjoyed it! I will try writing more!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Perv neighbor Yoongi, who has been dying to have a taste of you since the day you moved into the apartment opposite his. He has been crushing on you ever since you walked up to his door to introduce yourself as his new neighbor. You had baked him cookies as a sign of friendship, but he wasn’t interested in them.

Yoongi thought you were absolutely beautiful. The moment you started talking to him with your soft, sultry voice, he fumbled internally. He didn’t even pay attention to what you were saying and was just staring at you in awe. His eyes scanned your body. That little crop tee and those Hello Kitty PJ pants fitted you perfectly. Your midriff was out, and he noticed the pink twinkling belly piercing. You looked so gentle and kind. He admired everything about you. And from then on, it was his mission to make you his.

But he was shy and reserved. He would see you occasionally whenever you accidentally bumped into him or something like that. But he wanted more. And so he began talking to you more often. He had analyzed your schedule and timetable by now. At around 6:30 a.m., you wake up and head to the gym. Yoongi wasn’t a gym freak at all. But when he found out you were going? He immediately joined your gym. It was a headache to wake up every day at 6 a.m. and go, but it did make yours and his relationship stronger than before. After you found out he was now going to your gym, you started talking to him more. Asking him about his workout plans, his diets, and his schedule, which Yoongi had no idea about, so of course he lied to you about them. Yoongi's eyes never left your presence. The sole reason he even joined this stupid gym was for him to get more of your beautiful body. He would stare at you shamelessly as you did your set of squats. His eyes are on your plump ass at all times. He would get hard at just seeing your ass and would rush into the gym lockers to rub one out real quick, his pale hands gripping onto his long dick. He imagined you doing it for him, but of course it wasn’t enough. You both would walk home together, which gave him the opportunity to learn about you more. He liked how dainty you were. You had this hard, tough girl exterior, but in reality, you were the complete opposite.

After your workouts, he would accompany you to the laundromat. But as time went by, he would offer to take your set of laundry whenever he went. You appreciated that and were very grateful to him. You were getting busy with college anyway, so your time was limited. Little did you know, he was stealing your panties. The only reason he offered to take your load was so he could be a sick weirdo and steal your used panties. He would rummage through the piles of clothes and carefully pick out one of your pink lace panties and stuff them into his pocket. He had the urge to take them all, but he wasn’t going to let you find out that he had been stealing them, right?

He would drop off the clean load at your doorstep before rushing into his own home. He wouldn't even have the patience to go into his room. Your scent was in his grasps, and he couldn’t waste anytime! He would spread his legs out as he sat on his couch, pulling out his aching cock. He would be as hard as a rock. His pink tip now an angry red with precum oozing out. With his shaky hands, he brought the undergarment to his nose, and as soon as his nose got a slight sniff of your panties, he was in heaven. He pressed the undergarment to his nose with great force, taking huge sniffs of your arousal. He loved it. He had no shame about it. It was intoxicating. He moaned into the piece of fabric as his other hand was gliding up and down his shaft with speed. Now that he knew how you smelled, he was able to imagine you bouncing on his dick. Your name left his mouth in audible moans. He was humping his own hand, not being able to control himself. He stuffed the garment into his mouth, now getting a taste of your arousal. His eyes shut tight, his eyebrows furrowed, and sweat dripped down his black locks. His now-free hand crept up his shirt, tugging and pulling on his erect nipples for more stimulation. His breathing was heavy, and his body was writhing uncontrollably. He envisioned your fucked-out face moaning and being a pretty little mess for him. His cum all over your pussy and your ass. His hips jerked up at the thought, and he was whining like a bitch. Muffled moans of your name escaped his pretty lips every second. Tears were forming in his eyes as he was getting closer and closer to his goal. His hands continued moving up and down, increasing the speed and grip. 

He let out a final, choked-out gasp as he came all over his lower belly and hands. He was cumming a lot. All that pent-up desire , finally spilling out. He laid completely still, stabilizing his breath. He finally came down from his high, taking your now-drool-stained panties out of his mouth. He heard a faint knock on his apartment door, which prompted him to quickly clean himself up and put his composure back on. He opened the door to see you. Standing in front of his door. In utter shock. It seemed like you heard everything.

A/N: hihihi hello thank you 4 readingg! <33 i might write another part if i have the time lol my inbox is open rn! I might take time to respond or write so please be patient w me! 💀🤌😭 i did some tweaking to my blogs hehe new year new me fr

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Art of Persistence

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a long day, you return home to the comfort of your two favorite boys.

warnings: swearing, brief misogyny, Frank being adorable

a/n: For the lovely @zomtart who wanted to see something with Frank and a dog! As always, reblogs and comments fuel my writing!

w/c: 2.1k

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.” Albert Ellis

Walking through the doors into the bakery, your heart sank. It was going to be a long day, you could smell it on the air. The humidity seeping through the cracks in the doors had made the atmosphere purgatorial. You could feel the heat clouding around you, the air laden with moisture only made stickier by the ovens inside. Blowing a frustrated breath out of your nose, you gave a pleasant nod to your manager as she slunk past you towards her office.

“Good morning to you too,” You muttered, stalking into the back to set down your bag.

You were rapidly approaching your breaking point. Each inhale flooded your senses with the aroma of toasted sesame and melted butter--the combination turning sour after a week of beligerent customers and stressful shifts. If you didn't need the money, you'd have called out. Unfortunately, those precious wages and tips were keeping you afloat right now.

Tossing a thin canvas string over your neck, you secured the flashy red apron around your waist with a tight knot, not minding the line of pain that encircled you as you yanked at the ends. Pinning your worn name tag to your chest, you spun on your heel and headed for the counter.

Today was a new day. It would be busy, Mondays always were, but that didn't mean it would be bad. Right..?

Lamentably, by the time the morning rush had ended and you were finally able to slip into the break room for a moment away from the chaos, you were confident today would be the same as every other day. In a period of three hours, it had all gone to shit. Two of your coworkers had called out, throwing you and the one other reliable employee to the wolves. One particularly aggressive customer had thrown a cup of scalding coffee at you—claiming it was burnt after the tiniest sip you’d ever seen. And, the cherry on top of the crappy day you were having, you'd burnt the shit out of your hand pulling a bagel out of the toaster for a family that wouldn't stop nagging you. Fuck your well-being, they had places to go.

The circulation to your legs was slowly being cut off by the tourniquet you'd accidentally tied your waist in, but you couldn't be bothered to fix it. Staring wearily at your bandaged hand your body trembled with fatigue, discomfort, and residual adrenaline. Pulling out your phone, you positioned it in your good hand, selecting the proper contact and crossing your fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, please—

“Hey doll, did you need somethin'?” Frank's gruff voice crackled over the line, relief crashing over you as it did. Your body sagged at the question, the idea that you weren't handling it all alone.

“Um, yah, I was wondering if you could take Wes out for me? A handful of people didn't come in so I'm stuck working a shift and a half.” You nibbled at the skin on your bottom lip, hoping Frank wouldn't be annoyed that you asked him to care for your dog again this week.

You'd gotten Wesley as a puppy about a year ago, after a friend found him and his siblings abandoned in a nearby park. He was the last to be adopted, but you just couldn't deny his sweet little face. Unsurprisingly, the pair of you got along swimmingly.

The only problem arose at times like these, when your manager demanded that you stay past your scheduled end time to fulfill someone else's obligations. Wes was a good boy, but he could only hold out for so long without needing to pee or expend some energy. When you weren't there to play fetch or run around the block, you often turned to your partner for help.

You knew Frank adored your rambunctious pup, but the thought of adding more to his plate for any reason always made you guilty. He was busy, he had his own life and job and shit to do. Wes was your responsibility. Frank hadn't signed up for this, nor was he being compensated for his time. You really needed to hire a dog walker or something, that just wasn't an option given your slim budget right now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. I’ll head to your place when I can. You know when you'll be home?” As always, Frank accepted the burden immediately, without so much as an irritated sigh. His readiness to care for you and your four-legged roommate never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Around 6, if I'm lucky. I know that's late—” You rubbed at the back of your neck, grimacing as your fingers were met with warm, clammy skin.

“Don't worry about that, doll, you ain't the reason for that.” Frank reasoned, his patience only fueling the flames of guilt swirling around you.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who could be at fault.” You laughed bitterly, swallowing the despair coating your tongue.

“No, you aren't.” Frank protested firmly. “Ain't your fault your boss wants you to stay, babydoll. You're just doin' whatcha can to stay employed. No shame in that.”

Your eyes fell closed as you let out a breath you hadn't meant to hold. Frank's response was tender, effortlessly caring, as if he was there rubbing your back and calming you down. Soothing your doubts with every syllable. He understood the pressure you were under and he never blamed you for it.

“Thank you.” You whispered, the longing you felt to be with him only intensifying as he comforted you from a distance.

“No need to thank me, honey. Just get home safe, yah?” The concerned edge that perpetually lined Frank's words tipped the corners of your lips into a smile.

“Ok.” You promised, bidding him goodbye.

The rest of your day slogged along like a fish attempting to swim through jello. Slow, awkward, and unbelievably messy. Each interaction corroded your dwindling social battery, wearing your patience thin. It took every fiber of your being to not scream right back at the customers as they demanded ridiculous things from you.

Oh your espresso isn’t coming fast enough? Why don’t you come around the counter and make it your damn self. 

Rolling your eyes at the annoyed tone of the customer begging for the drink, you pretended not to hear him as you steamed milk for another order. 

“Geez bitch, are you deaf?” 

You barely registered his muttered comment, but it struck you like a blade anyway. Fist clenching around his cup, your fingernails punctured the cheap, waxy paper, splattering the freshly brewed espresso over your work station. 

“Oh no!! I’m so sorry sir, I’ll make you a new one.” Shooting the fuming man your best try at an innocent, I’m-simply-so-ditsy smile, you tossed the ruined cup into a nearby trash can gracefully. With growing satisfaction, you took your sweet time restarting the beverage, hoping the asshole would burn his tongue the second you handed it over. 

Shoving the tiny cup across the counter, you cemented your beaming smile in place as the dude snatched it from your grip without a word. 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You muttered as he slammed the door on his way out. A glance to the clock quickly lifted your spirits. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the shift from hell would be over. You’d collect your tips and bolt before your supervisor asked for something else. 

Behind you, your next problem cleared their throat. Whipping around to face the uptight, blazer-clad woman, you raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?” 

Fumbling with the keys on your ring, your fingers hadn’t even lined the correct one up with the lock when the bolt thunked, the door sliding open. Standing on the other side of the frame, taking up most of your frame of vision with his broad stature, was Frank.

Tumbling into him, you groaned happily as his giant arms engulfed you, his stomach shaking with a brief laugh.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We both did.” Pulling back slightly, Frank jerked his head to the wiggling golden retriever who was barely containing his excitement a few paces away.

Squeezing through the door past your hulking boyfriend, you knelt before your ecstatic canine, opening your arms for him to clamber into. Hugging your dog as he wriggled and chirped happily wasn't easy, but it made your heart swell with adoration every time you tried.

The way your dog reacted when you came home from work was nothing less than an ego boost. Poor Wes could never seem to keep still, too overwhelmed with joy and love that his tail swished wildly, shaking his whole body. Once you were within kissing distance, Wesley was determined to slobber all over you, reminding you just how much he'd missed you while you were away. These moments made all the hardship worth it.

Crouching behind you, Frank's hand slid beneath your raised elbow to scratch at Wesley's back, crowding in until you were fully leaning against him. You exhaled, sinking into his chest as he tugged you impossibly closer. Trailing kisses down the side of your face towards your shoulder, Frank rumbled with a chuckle as your dog plopped over the pile of legs, rolling belly up with an open-mouthed smile.

“Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be the favorite.” Frank remarked, giving Wes a firm rub on his stomach.

“Well, I do feed him.” You snorted, scratching at your dog's ear. “Seems to be the key to both of your hearts.”

“Got that right,” Frank agreed, squeezing you tightly until you giggled. “Did your shift go ok?”

Puffing out a breath, you shrugged, turning your head so he could see your face. “Only got called a bitch once so, I'd say that's a win.”

Scoffing indignantly, Frank scowled. “Gimme a name, sweetheart.”

“Frank,” You groaned, not unhappily. “If I let the Punisher loose on every asshole that came through the shop, we'd have a massacre on your hands.”

“I'd do it anyway. They deserve it, treatin' service workers like that.” Frank grumbled, nuzzling your cheek.

Your hand slid up to the base of his scalp, twisting the edges of his hair in your fingers. “I appreciate it, handsome. But I'm ok, promise.”

“Did ya make good tips at least?” His question was genuine, his expression almost hopeful, but you barked a laugh anyways.

“Take a guess.” Your voice was bitter, thinking of all the ungrateful patrons you'd had in the last twelve hours.

“Hmm,” Frank pondered. “Twenty?”

“Fuck Frankie, I wish.” You rolled your eyes. “Two bucks.”

“You're shittin' me.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, I am telling the god's honest truth.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Two bucks. Fuckin' hell.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw as his anger roiled deep within. “I'm so sorry, doll.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You pouted, feelings of inadequacy mingling with the fear of being utterly stuck in this dead-end job. “I hate asking you to help with Wes every damn day. You deserve better.”

“Hey now, don't you go worryin your pretty little head about me,” Frank scolded gently. “You're the one who don't deserve to be treated this way.”

“Don't have much of a choice, do I?” You wondered aloud, shoulders curling in as you descended back into hopelessness. “I need this job.”

“Then you'll stick with it for now,” Frank proposed. “And I'll help ya find somethin' better in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that Frank,” You objected, letting him slip out from under you and offer you a hand up.

“I know I don't have to, darlin'. I want to.” Kissing your lips tenderly, Frank cupped your cheek as heat rushed to your face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, chest tightening with emotion.

“Anytime, gorgeous.” Frank winked at you, bringing a smile back to your face.

A piercing squeak caught your attention, drawing it towards the floor where an impatient Wesley displayed a plush toy you didn't recognize.

“Did you buy him a toy?” You asked Frank, knowing grin creeping over your face as the man blushed bright pink, shrugging one shoulder. Bending down, you tugged at the arm of the wooly sheep, pretending that you were grabbing it for yourself until Wesley ran off, squeaking it victoriously.

“Needed somethin' to do and he seemed bored, so we took a walk to the pet store on 45th.” The embarrassed man mumbled, rubbing at his nape and averting his gaze.

“Aw, Frankie,” Winding your arms back around Frank's tree trunk waist, you peppered kisses across his face. ”That's so sweet of you.“

“It's nothin', really,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“Sure, tough guy. It's nothin',” You smirked, clenching your arms one final time before gripping his hand. “Come sit, we can order dinner and play with Wes.”

Planting a firm kiss against your hairline, your scalp tickled as Frank smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @vsplanet @pigeonmama

[soaps-mohawk]

So...

I've been doing some thinking about a couple of things.

This blog has grown considerably, even from its start and I appreciate each and every one of you so much. Your support never ceases to amaze me and I owe all of you a lot for giving me something to focus on this year instead of spiraling into insanity.

But

Things have gotten a tad bit overwhelming recently between trying to run the blog and trying to write. I find myself either having to ignore the blog to get writing done, or sacrifice writing time and energy to spend time on the blog and keep up with all the replies/reblogs/asks etc. Definitely not complaining, you all never cease to amaze me.

But, I am just one person and my brain only has so much power right now. So, I'm planning to take some (more) time off each week right now while I focus on writing and planning since we're getting into some serious plot stuff soon. So I'm planning to be on the blog three days a week for a while: Saturday, Sunday, and Thursday. That gives me some time to get some writing done as well as some time to rest my brain.

Saturday and Sunday of course to post the chapter and respond to replies and reblogs so I don't get super behind. Monday I'll have some asks queued up as well as maybe a few reblogs. I'll still use the queue Tuesday and Wednesday for reblogs/asks with spoilers as usual. Thursday I'll be on the blog answering asks from Monday - Wednesday as well as things I get that day. I'll queue up a few things for Friday since that day gives me a little break between to prepare for the weekend and posting the chapter.

I'll probably add more days as time goes on. You can still send in asks on the days I'm gone, but just know I won't see them or respond to them until later in the week. I already get behind by a couple days on asks anyway so that's not much of a change.

Don't feel bad for sending them either, I love getting all these asks, I just tend to get behind on days I spend more time writing.

The second order of business

has to do with my taglist. Most of you probably haven't noticed (which I don't blame you lol) but my taglist has gotten very big. Very, very big. It's just over 230 people right now, and I'm sure there will be others asking to join. It's quite time consuming to do all of these tags for every chapter (especially since we can't tag in blocks anymore) so I've been doing some thinking into how I can make it easier for me, and for you.

I know there's at least one blog I've heard of, though I'm sure there's more, that have made side blogs that they have people follow and turn on notifications for and just make a post on that blog when they post a chapter or fic, etc. I've been considering doing that since the taglist is a lot of work and time.

I've also seen blogs that have side blogs that just post chapters/fics and nothing else. I know quite a few of you only follow for the fic, so if anyone is interested, I could put together a side blog like that as well that you can follow and get notifications from instead of having to follow this blog and having to go through the probably 100 posts that I make a day 😂 (at least it feels that way for me)

Having a separate blog for the taglist too would allow me to schedule posts so I can have them come out a bit earlier than I get up for those of you across the world who stay up to read and have to wait for me to post in the morning when I get up (or later like today because I slept in). Of course Ao3 will get posted later because I can't schedule posts there, but at least for Tumblr I can have things post earlier.

So let me know what you think about the taglist side blog and the possible just chapters/fics side blog. Feel free to send in asks (anonymously or not) with your opinion. I might not answer them all (not tonight because my brain is fried and honestly i'm not sure if this is even comprehensible English) but I will at least use them to make the decision (or make a post with all of them and answer it as just one).

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking, descriptive sexual activities. masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part one) a/n:

hello!! my name is sozila, and this is my first ever work on tumblr/ao3 so bear with me if my writing seems a little elementary :,) let me know what you think, esp if it's constructive feedback! i've been a huge fic reader since i was 11, if that's any solace <3 (i'm in my second year of college now lmao) this piece really just came to me because i craved older brother sukuna and breezed through every fic with him in it. also, i wanted to incorporate parts of my college experience and hence the allegory to infectious diseases, i promise i'll hash it out adequately soon haha <3 also to note: i'm aware this chapter is rather short, but i intend to make longer chapters as the story continues! until then, here's a little bit of what i have :) enjoy!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part one) you were 2 years into being best friends with yuuji itadori before you saw him. an idea of him was created in your head through a web of yuuji’s descriptions, megumi’s mild irritations. nobara’s hot-cold opinion that “he’s an insufferable asshole, but those tattoos do numbers on girls”. some part of you felt allured by the mystery of his identity, even though you knew exactly who he was. at least, as much as you could from the near-empty instagram account and pictures from yuuji’s childhood littering the apartment.

it was odd you didn’t meet until now, but university had other plans for you. it made sense though— as a pre-med student, you didn’t have much time to hang out or go to frat parties, as much as nobara complained about your lack of thrill for wilding out. you digressed, but promised as soon as you secured an internship you’d maybe allow a bottle of vodka on you, in the comfort of your shared apartment. yuuji and megumi never held your busy schedule against you; which you genuinely appreciated. you loved that whenever you did get to see them, things picked up right where you left off.

which is why you were surprised at the very least to be met with someone you knew yet were so unfamiliar with standing before you when you knocked on yuuji’s door.

“you one of yuu’s new leeches or what?”

your brows furrowed a little more at the jab on your character, but you utter nothing as you take in the fact ryomen itadori isn’t a mythical brother your best friend made up. he looks exactly like the lockscreen picture on yuuji’s phone, save for a couple new tattoos on his face and arms. his hair was a mix between a mean undercut and ivy league, sporting the same pink hue of his younger brother’s. a simple silver chain hung on his neck which drew you downwards to his chest. he was definitely built much bigger and wider than yuuji. coarse, and just.. raw. you register you’ve been staring at this man clad only in a wife pleaser and joggers for an inappropriately long time and clear your throat, straightening, holding your bag a little closer as if it was going to disappear with a glance of his sanguine eyes.

“you gonna stand there all day, or should i close the door on ya?”

his gruff voice now laced with irritation led you to match his demeanor. you give him a wry, plastered smile and push past him. he lets you, surprisingly.

“can’t really go in with you blocking the entire entryway, asshole.”

he doesn’t acknowledge the blatant insult and walks towards the kitchen. your nose catches it first- he was cooking something really good. suddenly, he yells over his shoulder while he stirs the pot.

“yuuji c’mon, i’m not babysitting for your ass!”

the thomp-thomp-thomps of yuuji’s footsteps follow with him hurrying down the stairs and he flashes a dorky smile to you. “sorry, sorry! you met my lovely best friend then, aniki?”

he grunts without turning around. you didn’t even consider this a conservation, but yuuji seemed unphased by his wet-blanket personality. guess older brotherhood looked like this. yuuji flits around the stove where he’s working to stick a finger in the pot and steal a taste, which sukuna smacked him upside the head for.

rubbing the back of head, yuuji then turns and faces you to give your arms a little squeeze. “megs is running a little late from swim team practice, but he’ll be here soon. ryo made dinner for us though!” he quips brightly.

with a whip of his head and a withering look, you deduced sukuna wasn’t aware of this information, but grumbled to himself. you made out a “motherfucker” and “freeloader” in his long curse.

you pull your happy-go-lucky friend a little out of earshot and bring him to your level to whisper harshly. “yuu, i don’t want to inconvenience your brother.. he already seems pissed i exist,” you murmur. your gaze returns to the giant man in the kitchen and something tickles in your chest. immediately he slaps your shoulder and chortles, as if you told him something outlandish. “don’t even worry! he acts like that all the time, he just doesn’t know you well enough yet.”

you weren’t sure you even wanted him to.

it was 7:30 when you heard the ring of the doorbell and your head lifts from the snug placement you took on the couch. sukuna had already slipped away upstairs so yuuji answers this time, much to your dismay. you lament internally that megumi wouldn’t face the same frosty welcome as you did. you hear two voices instead of just the one you expected and crane over to see a certain red headed girl you knew. she beams upon noticing your peeking form. “you’re here early, miss i-have-no-time-for-my-beloved-friends,” quicker than you could react, she was already beelining to jump on you with a smothering hug.

you try to muster a clear response but get muffled by her puffy knit sweatshirt. “if you checked your phone you’d know i told you!” you push your computer out of reach so it wouldn’t be swept in the tornado that was nobara kugisaki.

megumi had already taken a seat on the rug beside yuuji, deep in conversation about winter finals. however, it became evident it was more megumi lecturing yuuji on course material and the latter looking more confused and stressed by the second.

you move nobara enough to clap your hands and catch their attention.

“if you guys utter the word ‘exams’ one more time, i swear will explode.”

nobara snorts above you and knocks on your head. “look who’s talking. is your memory shot to hell or do you not remember all the times you bring it up yourself?”

“she literally did this afternoon,” yuuji mumbles with a pout. you throw a decorative pillow at him.

“hey! don’t forget i literally made your study schedule for you. and even the studious want a little break,” you defend with a huff. nobara d’awws and squishes your cheeks. “my poor little baby! however did you survive.”

“you guys suck. i deserve nothing but love and affection.”

yuuji rolls his eyes and whines. “oh my goood, yes we love you and appreciate you, hugs kisses rainbows blah blah— i wanna watch a movie already!”

you giggle at his antics as nobara pushes off you, walking to the unabashedly large TV and starts filing through yuuji’s big movie bookshelf. “what are we feeling tonight? fast and furious, ladybird, jigsaw..”

after a couple minutes you all agree on midsommar, which you protested but lost in a 3 to 1 vote (democracy is a joke). you could never sleep properly after a good horror movie, hence you always watched them during the daytime. but because your friends were evil, namely nobara, you had to endure some at night and ended up sleepless and jumpy. “if you can’t sleep, just slip in with me tonight,” nobara counters with a dismissive wave. while you knew neither nobara nor her girlfriend, maki, would bat an eye because of their long friendship with you, you worried for your own well-being. nobara was a huge kicker in her sleep (she denies this profusely). too many times after a night out you’d wake up on the floor with bruises on your side while nobara dozed peacefully, starfish-ed on the bed. you sigh and accept your fate.

the movie ends up being just as if not more unsettling than you expected. you knew nobara clocked out much earlier than you thought when you heard no reaction to the bear scene (never getting that image out of your brain, you fear). you stretch your neck to assess who’s out. beyond the dirty plates on the coffee table from the dinner sukuna “made” for you all, you can make out yuuji cradled into megumi’s chest, snoring lightly. the urchin haired boy didn’t stir much either, so you peel from nobara’s vice-like grip on you to throw a blanket over the two of them. out of the corner of your eye, you see yuuji cuddle into megumi a little more, a small smile on his dozing face. god, you eagerly await the day they could be honest about their feelings. you step back around quietly to adjust nobara on the couch into a more comfortable position.

to navigate out with a better light you fish your jeans for your phone but to your dismay, are met with empty pockets. it didn’t help that your nerves on high alert and the living room was lit only by the glow from the tv. something straight out of a horror movie. genuinely fuck my life. you frown as you crouch down to feel around underneath the couch. after a few minutes of helpless padding later, the task seemed fruitless and you began to retreat to yuuji’s room. nothing could prepare you to feel a big, cold hand palm your shoulder. you freeze, your spine going icy. is this how i’m going to die? swiveling faster than your mind could compute you almost let out a bloodcurdling shriek, only to be met with the same cold hand pressing your mouth shut.

“are you fuckin’ mental?”

sanguine eyes bore back into yours and you fight the urge to bite the hand pressing on you. the audacity of this guy was baffling, really.

you shove him off and glare pointedly.

“me? i’m mental? says the dick who decided to sneak up on someone and grab them like a fucking serial killer!”

you jab a finger on his chest, seething in a whisper. his chest, in reality, was much harder than you anticipated and your finger probably hurt more than the attack on him.

a step. he’s closer to you and now in possession of said finger.

“i lightly tapped you. the rest was damage control, sweetheart.”

“sweetheart?”

“i can’t call you that?”

“how about you don’t call me anything, ever? thanks.”

“makes sense that i can’t call you. got your phone, and all.”

your mouth drops a little. “what?” he snickers. “if you weren’t so busy trying to curse me into the next domain, you’d realize i’ve had your phone in my hand this whole time. fuckin’ idiot.”

lo and behold, your phone was nestled in his raised hand, looking much smaller than you remembered. or was it that his hand was just that large in comparison? how big was this guy, really? part of you wanted to stop everything and just ask him to hold different objects and compare how they perceived in his grasp. but reality struck and you recall this is the same guy who just scared the living daylights out of you.

you yank it out of his stupid mammoth hand, ripping his grasp on you in the process and take a step back. you were awfully close to one another upon closer inspection.

“not an idiot, by the way. 4.0 gpa doesn’t exactly scream stupid.”

“idiocy applies to everyone, sweetheart. regardless of how much you dick ride your textbooks.”

every word that left his mouth had a lilt to it. the laughter in his eyes, his head cocked to the side.. he was messing with you and relished it. that pissed you off. who the fuck was he to decide who you were? what you stood for? you had barely known this imaginary-but-actually-real brother for a couple hours, and here he was insulting and teasing you all in one gift-wrapped present. what gave him the confidence to be so insufferable? and better yet, what could you do to stomp it out?

“go to hell, sukuna.”

you were unwilling to stay in his irritating presence for a moment more. your face was stony and unrelenting, your foot tapping incessantly in impatience. you wanted to slap his face off, but thankfully for him, your best friends were in dreamland just a few feet away.

“goodnight, idiot.”

your feet padded angrily up the stairs and you could still feel those dark sanguine eyes boring into your skull and all over your body. you decided that imaginary or not, yuuji itadori's older brother was the most pompous asshole you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. you didn’t get hit with your skin radiating heat until you closed the door of yuujii’s bedroom behind you. question is, was it anger or arousal?

... she never told me her name.

omg light banter... guys i really love slowburn so sexy time isn't guaranteed soon :( once i've outlined it i'll add specific explicit warnings and maybe you'll get a glimpse of what i envision for you and sukuna aaaaa :) for tumblr, i'll have a navi/masterlist up in a little!

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[being-addie]

Sunday Resets

Setting aside time for yourself is so important. I don't think people understand how vital it is to pay attention to your body and just take a day to let your body r-e-l-a-x. We're all so busy fighting to reach the top, that while climbing the corporate ladder, we lose ourselves somewhere along the way. Burnout, depression, and monotony come into play when we don't listen to our bodies telling us they need a break.

Once every two weeks or so, on a Sunday, I turn off all my notifications and have a day dedicated to me. Giving my body some TLC, resting and preparing for the next week. If I have plans on a Sunday, such as brunch or a meeting, I shift that day to Saturday, or at the very least, a day where I have at least 4-5 hours to spend leisurely.

Things I like to do on my Sunday resets:

Wake up early/sleep in: Depending on my mood, and how much sleep I've had during the week, I'll either be up at the crack of dawn or still in bed till it's nearly noon. There's no shame in staying in bed till 11:30 if you're particularly exhausted, but I recommend waking up at least before 11 AM because then you'll feel tired and groggy (of course, this doesn't apply to everyone)

Clean my room: I always make my bed without fail, and if my room is messy, then I'll clean it. Clean the vanity table, my desk, closet, art cupboard and bookshelf, and then the bathroom. If my mom needs help around the house, I do that too.

Food: I make myself a good breakfast, taking time to move around the kitchen and just breathe. I'm getting to eat good food, the sun is shining and I'm alive. It's great. Sometimes my dad cooks for the whole family and we just sit and eat together.

The Everything Shower: I take my Everything Shower on Sundays, where I wash my hair, deep condition, use a hair and face mask, exfoliate and do a face massage. I don't shave because I get my waxing done in a salon. I then slather myself in cocoa butter lotion and apply lip balm. Then do my hair routine (curly hair). It takes a few hours, but it's worth it.

The Next Week: I prep for the next week by cooking something I can take to my classes, like granola bars or homemade pita chips. I also sit down and plan my schedule (any dinners, meetings, parties, etc) and make a rough plan of my goals for the week, like assignments and deadlines.

Errands: I usually make a list of things I need to do during the week, like any specific separate groceries that I use, art supplies I'm low on, or needing to top up the air in my tyres. Then I go complete all of those in the afternoon.

Walks: In the evening, I take a walk around the block with a friend. I usually am too busy to do this during the week, so getting some fresh air is always a treat.

Relax: The rest of the evening is spent relaxing. I watch Netflix with my family, chat with my younger sister, read a novel/play the piano/write poetry. We have dinner together and then either watch a movie or just spend the time talking about our week, or the news. It's fun.

Double-check: Before I go to sleep, I make sure to double-check that my work is done, my bag is packed, clothes are folded and all my devices are charged. I'm in bed by 10:30 PM.

Remember that not all Sundays will be like this. Sometimes I'm extremely drained, so I'll sleep in, order food and just lay in bed recuperating. It's okay to take a rest day. This guide is if you want to be more productive, and it helps the week go smoother. Be the person who has their life in charge. You've got this.

<3

[writingquestionsanswered]

hello! i've struggled with writer's block for so long that i've forgotten how to write something that i genuinely like... recently i've been trying to go back, but given my current schedule and me being in med school, it's impossible for me to sit down and just ... write but do you have any tips how i can slowly ease myself back into writing? thanks so much 🥹🙏🏼

Slowly Easing Back Into Writing (w/ a Busy Schedule)

1 - For Now, Write for Fun and Relaxation - When you're neck deep in work, school, parenting, caregiving, or any other of life's big commitments, you may want to go the low pressure route with writing and let it be an outlet for fun and relaxation. This gives you carte blanche to write when, what, and how much you want without having to worry about any sort of "progress." And the beauty is, whether you write five words a day or five-hundred, you are still "making progress" in terms of honing your writing skills and adding to a body of work. You just don't have to be focused on that for now.

2 - Meet Yourself Where You're At - Even when you give yourself permission to write for fun, you may still find yourself wanting to create goals, a writing routine, and a writing schedule... and that's fine, just be sure to meet yourself where you're at when creating these things. In other words, be honest with yourself about things like available writing time, energy requirements, potential distractions, steady commitments, and other potential challenges to meeting goals and sticking with a routine/schedule. Be flexible. Have reasonable expectations. And give yourself grace when things don't go as planned.

3 - Go For the "Low Hanging Fruit" - Getting back into writing doesn't have to mean pursuing big writing projects, and it honestly probably shouldn't when you have other big things going on that need to take priority. Luckily, there's a lot of "low hanging fruit" you can go after to get your words in. Those will be different for everyone according to where you find inspiration and motivation, but some examples would be journaling about your day or dreams, writing reviews of books and movies, writing out your feelings about a particular current event or something unusual you experienced that day, flash fiction writing prompts, short poem, free writing, writing exercises, etc. In other words, things that allow you to write as much or as little as you want, and you can switch it up depending on how you're feeling.

4 - Spend Time Filling Your Creative Well - If you're limited on time and energy, don't underestimate the importance of using the free time you have to fill your creative well... read books/short stories/fan-fiction/magazines/news stories, listen to audibooks or podcasts, watch TV shows or movies, play video games, watch documentaries, learn about things that interest you, research your family tree... anything that puts stories and story elements into your head is going to help you be a better writer. And if that's all you have time to do right now, that's okay, too!

5 - Make It a "Whole Thing" - If circumstances permit, take whatever writing time you have each week or month and "make it a whole thing." Get yourself a nice/pretty/fun notebook and some nice and/or colorful pens. Create a writing playlist. Find a special place to write (it can change as needed) where you'll feel safe, comfortable, and will be relatively distraction free. Create a little writing routine for yourself, like drinking a certain beverage, starting by listening to a certain song, wearing a particular hat or comfy cardigan, eating a particular snack, putting on some mood lighting... whatever works. It could even be as simple as putting a particular object next to your keyboard like a pretty rock, a scented candle, a certain plushie... anything your mind can start to associate with "this is writing time" can help trigger things that will get you into writing mode when it's time.

Here are some other posts that may help:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write Guide: Filling Your Creative Well Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Getting Your Writing Magic Back After a Break Writer’s Block

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[heyitsme1040]

Hiii! I just saw your repost, where you said you're going through writers block, and I want to request an mcu headcanons about

Tony Stark / Bucky Barnes / and Loki Laufeyson (all seperate) X a gn reader who gets extra clingy when they're sleepy/tired!

Have a good night!

This is so cute! Thank you for the request, it was super fun to write.

How Marvel Men Would React to: You Being Clingy When Tired

feat. Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, and Loki Laufeyson

AO3 (x)

Tony Stark

He hates how little sleep you get, but he also loves how accepting of his affection you are. Tony hates when you don't get enough sleep. He's no example of a healthy sleep schedule, but you're just barely doing better than he is. It's obvious when it happens. You rub your eyes harshly throughout the day, words seem to escape your thoughts when explaining your latest idea, and you become clumsy.  When well rested you enjoy Tony's company. Always greeting each other with kisses, spending most of the day together, but still managing to do your own things. But when you're tired, you crave his presence. You'll slip in front of him when he tinkers and wrap your arms around him. You'll settle into his space and he'll continue working. It isn't an uncommon sight for you to be straddling his lap, face against his shoulder, while he sits in an office chair. Right now Tony wants nothing more than to scoop you up and carry you to bed, except he's in important meetings that have already been rescheduled four times. He kisses you before going into his office to be ready for the video conferences. You pout as he crosses the hall.  Not wanting to go far away, you work on the project you've been thinking over. It's as you're writing down the last portion of your formula that your focus is gone. Frustration builds as you cross out more and more of what you'd just written. Slowly, the lack of sleep catches up to you. You were crashing, and any more coffee was a bad idea. Finally giving in you drop the pen. You unlocked your phone, squinting at the harsh brightness of the screen, and sent Tony a text. You didn't want to interrupt his meetings, but you also knew trying to fall asleep without him would be difficult. Tony is relieved when the meetings go by faster than he was expecting them to. Once he disconnects from the last video conference, he goes across the hall to the workshop. Surprised by its emptiness, he grabs his phone to call you only to see your text. He smiles, rushing upstairs to the bedroom. You're curled up in one of his sweatshirts while laying on his side of the bed, face squished against his pillow. He steps out of his shoes while crossing the room. You lift your head as soon as his steps ring through the room. The moment he sits on the bed to lay down, you move to wrap your arms around his waist with a huff. Tony can't help the fond chuckle that escapes him. He'll pull your hands away for a moment, a quiet whine escaping you, before scooping you into his lap. He'll lay down, shifting you so that his chin is just above your head. His breaths cause you to be gently rocked. Your legs tangle together, and he makes a dramatic gasp when your cold toes press against his ankles.  "Not close enough,” you mumble against the column of his throat. His responding hum vibrates against your lips. You bury your head further into his neck. Tony's arms slip beneath his hoodie you're wearing and rub your back while holding you tighter to him. The content sigh you release makes him feel more accomplished than any of those meetings did. He presses his lips against your hair. He doesn't pull away, just enjoying having his lips against you while feeling the warmth of your skin. "You should sleep,” he mumbles against you. You fight off a yawn before replying, "You should, too.” "Deal. JARVIS, enter black out mode.” "Certainly sir,” the robotic voice acknowledges. "Black out mode engaged.” The lights turn off and the shutters close, plunging the room into darkness. A projection of the stars dimly covers the ceiling. Tony pulls a cover over the both of you. 

Bucky Barnes

You sat in the living room, nursing a cup of coffee, and watching the sun rise higher by the hour. Your nightmares were getting worse. You were glad Bucky was on a mission until this afternoon, not wanting to disturb the little sleep he could get. It was a long week, but you could manage. You couldn't help the nightmares that plagued your sleeping mind. They left their mark against you, the dark circles under your eyes anything but subtle. It was a surprise when you heard the lock in the door. Just as you whipped around to look, the door swung open, revealing Bucky. He dropped his bag as you hurried across the room. In your rush, you tripped over the small rug in your hallway. Bucky's arms were quick to be around you. He picked you up, your legs going around his waist. "Hi,” you breathed out. "I've got you,” Bucky kissed you while kicking the door closed. "What are you doing up?” "Couldn't sleep.” You felt Bucky's shoulders slump as he gently traced the circles under your eyes.  "How many?” You bit your lip, not wanting to worry him. But you also knew he understood. While you debated, Bucky sat on the couch. The sunlight cast golden beams into the room, making you feel safe. "It was just eleven…” you trailed off. Bucky frowned, a small crease appearing between his brows. “Sweetheart, why didn't you let me know you needed me? I would have been here as fast as possible.” You sagged against him, using his large frame as your personal pillow. “Because I didn't want to worry you, and your mission was important…”  “You're important,” he said disapprovingly.  “I know,” you promise. "But your mission was so short.” He gave you an unimpressed look. “I was gone four days.”  You sagged against him further, no longer supporting your weight. Bucky sighed as snores came from you. He hated that you didn't sleep while he was away. Both of you suffered from nightmares. The only solution that kept them away was when the two of you slept beside each other. He knew your nightmares, just as you knew his. He slowly stood up, cradling you against him. Going to the bed, he tucked you in. The small whimper that left you as he moved around the bed made his heart clinch. Even asleep you were reaching out for him. He laid down, pulling your malleable body into his hold. His heart always soared when you were tired, loving how touchy you became. Usually you would wait for him to initiate physical touches, but when you were asleep? All you wanted to do was touch him. The first time he discovered this made his heart melt. Sleeping was when you were most vulnerable, and all you wanted when sleeping was him. The trust you had in him to protect you while slept was the best feeling possible to him.

Loki Laufeyson

Loki's adoration of you grew daily. You were self assured and confident, easily seeming like an immovable force. And you were, but Loki got to see what you were like behind closed doors. Loki witnessed you when the bravado was washed away. Witnessed how dedicated you were to the people in your life. He was lucky enough to be one of those people.  Loki's favorite time was the evening. Getting to relax with you after a long day was perfection to him. Being around you energized him from the tiring tasks of the day. Learning your quirks was an added bonus of spending evenings together.  His favorite was when you were tired. He was used to falling asleep in each other's arms, but what he didn't expect was your nightly request that he speak. Anything from tales of Asgard to having him ramble about seemingly nothing. Each night he looked forward to lulling you to sleep with his stories. He learned, slowly, that his voice was what allowed you to sleep peacefully. Some nights, when your breathing was evened out, he'd stop talking. It was these nights you would hold onto him tighter, angling your body as if you were trying to shield him from something. He would stroke your hair and begin talking again, and you would relax against him. Instead of your hands clinging to his shirt, they would lay flat against his chest.  He loved the way you would ask him to tell you something. Your eyes would flutter shut, but then you were jerking awake again as if you wanted to avoid sleeping for as long as possible. You would finally give in, resting your forehead against his.  “Tell me something,” you'd whisper. “What would you like to hear?” He'd brush your hair away from your eyes. It became a game for him, guessing what your reply would be. If you'd want him to finish a story you fell asleep in the midst of, or to start a new story. Maybe you would want to hear about his thoughts on a book, or request he talk about anything. It didn't matter to him, just as long as you were relaxed. Clinging onto his words more than consciousness was a gift you weren't even aware you were giving him. He relished these moments, committing them to his memory.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!

small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)

W/C: 4.016

part eight

"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."

Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.

"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"

Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.

"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.

Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.

"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.

"Are those exams still keeping you up?"

"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.

"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.

"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.

"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.

I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.

Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.

Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.

I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.

I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.

"Why are you grinning like a creep?"

I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.

"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.

"Really?"

"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.

"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.

"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."

"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”

"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."

I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.

"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.

He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.

"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."

I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.

"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.

"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.

I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.

I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.

I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.

I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.

I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.

He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.

"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.

The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.

I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.

Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?

"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.

"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.

"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.

"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.

I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.

I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.

My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-

I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.

"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.

My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.

"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.

"So, you’re worried about me now?"

I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.

"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.

I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.

Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.

“He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.

“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.

“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.

“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.

“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.

“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.

“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.

“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.

I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.

“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…

The guys from Naples?

What’s his name again?

“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.

Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..

Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?

My common sense says: NO.

I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…

“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.

He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..

“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.

Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”

Yeah, very believable.

He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.

I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.

“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.

Could this get even more awkward.

I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.

Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.

“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.

I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..

He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.

I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.

He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.

I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.

It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.

I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.

I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.

"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."

I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.

I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.

I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.

Since it was our day off, after winning 4-2 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.

I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.

My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.

I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.

I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.

"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.

"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”

"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.

"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."

I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.

"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”

I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.

“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”

"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.

"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."

I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.

"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.

"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"

"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."

I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.

I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.

I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.

Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..

The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.

Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.

I was too stubborn for my own good..

"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.

He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.

I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.

I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.

"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.

It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.

"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.

I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.

"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.

"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.

I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.

"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.

I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.

"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs.."

I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.

I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.

Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.

I mean- who can make this up?

I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.

I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.

Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.

My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.

He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.

"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..

I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.

My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.

I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.

His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-

"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.

His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.

"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.

"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.

"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.

I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.

"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.

I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.

I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.

I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.

I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.

Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.

Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..