#literally in the middle of work scrolling twitter for no reason

[blue-lollipops-and-ice-clouds]

Hi, so, III's and IV's new straps are also inverted.

(III's Photo Source)

(IV's Photo Source)

[selfinsertmadness]

i have a really cool prompt

hope you like my idea,

could you perhaps write a story about the current logan situation with loganxy/n ??

i love your blog soooo muchhhh

Logie and the Australian car incident

pairing: AstonMartin!y/n x Logan Sargeant (can be read platonically or romantically)

author's note: I haven't written any fanfic stuff in literal years (middle school me is quacking) but I tried my best with that one. Looking forward to any suggestions or critiques you may have :) (insert obligatory English is not my native language here) (please send promts!!!!)

The day starts off as any other day on a busy race weekend would and you are busy running around the Aston Martin garage making sure everything is in order before you return to your place at the back of the garage. You let your gaze sweep over the garage one last time before getting out your work phone and texting your boss, Lawrence, that everything is in order. The cars seem good, the mechanics had no complaints and Lance and Fernando were reasonably happy with everything. A satisfied smile washes over your face, your job was busy but reasonably easy, as the team caretaker your sole mission was to make sure the team was happy, the drivers taken care of, and the PR supervisors were not losing their minds running after their drivers while also texting Lawrence even the most minute details about his son and the other driver.

It seems quite redundant to you, but Lawrence Stroll pays well and who are you to turn down a job as a glorified team nanny.

You take a seat at the back and watch the first practice session absentmindedly, letting your gaze wander down to your phone occasionally, and scrolling through Twitter, scoffing at all the hate towards the current grid. It never ceases to amaze you how people can be so hateful, but then again, some people are just unhappy about their own lives. Looking up at the screen you watch a Williams car hit the wall on the right before sliding across the track and grinding its way to a stop on the left barrier. You gasp as you jump up, the rest of the garage wincing in sympathy as the car finally stops. You quickly turn to a mechanic nearby. “Who was that?”, you ask a little panicked as you watch the red flag fly and a driver in a Williams race suit climb out of the cockpit. “Albon, I think”, the mechanic replies helpfully as you try and suppress a relieved sigh. You still feel sorry for Alex but simultaneously thanking your lucky stars that Logan was not the one in an accident this time.

When Logan first got signed by Williams you both were ecstatic, you had met years ago when your parents had taken you on a vacation to Florida where you met Logan and you’ve kept in touch ever since. You had already been working for Aston Martin when Logan started in F1 and the fact that you could spend a lot more time together now served as further motivation to both of you to give it your best. You quickly shoot him a text, knowing he won’t be responding until later, before sending your boss a quick update and making sure the crash had not affected your team.

You honestly had forgotten you texted Logan in the first place as you watch the cars head out for the second practice session, Alex staying back in the pits, watching his teammate drive. You smile as you send Logan some memes you had found on twitter, knowing he would have a laugh once he got back to his room after the strenuous practice sessions of the day. Aston Martin, for once, had no major issues you had attend to and you could lean back and relax, as much as one in a Formula 1 garage can relax, in your seat while harassing the Aston Martin Instagram Admin with Memes you think they should be posting asap.

As the second practice session ends you help the team pack up and prepare for the next day as the drivers attend to their media duties and you stretch in relief as the first day of the Australian Grand Prix comes to an end.  After having everything sorted you get out your work phone and sign off for the day before taking out your personal phone and responding to some texts before checking your chat with Logan, seeing that he had read your messages but not responded. ‘You ok?’, you send him before shrugging off any worry you might have. Surely, he was just busy, after all, he was the only Williams driver that would be starting on Sunday. You really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, the weight of the entire team and all the fans’ expectations resting on your shoulders. You might have a lot of responsibility but at least you were free of the expectations fans place on the drivers, mechanics and team principals.

You quickly slip into the shower of your private hotel room, a perk you were eternally grateful for, and put on some pajamas before order room service. You had earned it after all and looking after your figure was thankfully not a concern you had. ‘Ignoring your bestie? That’s not how I know you Loggie!’ you text Logan as you open the door for the food you had ordered and sit down before digging into the pepperoni pizza you had been craving for a week.

You startle as you hear a knock from your hotel room door. You shoot a quick glance at your phone, 11pm. You quietly approach the door and look through the peephole cautiously. Who would disturb you that late on a race weekend? Looking through the hole you see Logan at the door, his face unusually pale and his expression unnervingly neutral. Quickly you reach for the doorhandle, pulling the door open. “Logie? What got you a-knocking that late?”, you ask jokingly but the lighthearted smile on your face quickly fades as he stands on the swell of your door like a man lost, his eyes suspiciously watery. “Oh dear”, you mumble as you quickly pull him into your room and heard him towards your bed, letting him sit down before standing before him and looking at him with a stern expression. “What’s wrong?”, you ask, concern written all over your face.

He sighs, falling back onto the bed. “They’re taking my car.”, his voice sounds wobbly as he explains. “Who is taking your car?”, you ask, your voice confused.

“James. He said Alex has a higher chance of scoring and I get it, but I tried so hard, you know? They said they trusted me, and I was ready to proof how much I have improved and now I can’t drive at all. I didn’t crash the car! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything…”, he rambles, his voice flowing between sadness, anger and betrayal before ending in defeat. You look at him, he still has his upper body lying on your bed, his feet dangling off the side as he continues explaining what had happened. Quietly you sit down next to him on the bed and gently stroke through his hair as you let him talk out his frustrations. “y/n? What do I do now?”, Logan asks as he looks up at you, his eyes still wet but trying his hardest to not shed a tear.

“I will put the fear of God into that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”, you explain very matter of factly. “I’m gonna walk down to the Williams hospitality and I’m gonna scream at your team principal!”, you declare with a huff as you get off of your bed and towards where you kicked off your shoes when you came back from the paddock earlier that night.

“Y/N, do NOT do that.”, Logan warns as he gets up and grabs your hand. “That is just going to make it worse.” “Okay but it’s also gonna make me feel a lot better ‘cause who does he think he is? Taking your car and giving it away. I’m gonna make him regret this entire week” you say angrily as you look up at him with determination and the wrath of someone who’s best friend was just wronged in your eyes.

“Please don’t”, Logan asks with sad eyes, gripping your hand even tighter. “Please just stay with me tonight, I feel sick. I just want to cry.”, he admits to you as you feel your resolve break. “But- “, you trail off as you watch him stand before you, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You sigh in defeat before squeezing his hand. “Right but only ‘cause you asked me to, if it was up to me…”, you stop, leaving the threat hang in the air of your hotel room as you head towards the small desk. “Pizza”, you declare as you shove the leftovers of your pizza into Logans hands. “My TV has Netflix, what do you want to watch?”, you ask as you throw yourself into the hotel room bed and turn on the flatscreen TV hanging opposite it.

Logan lets out a surprised laugh and sits down next to you, the pizza carton still tightly in his hands as he gets out a slice and lets you choose whatever show you find on the homepage. The evening continues in relative silence as Logan finishes the pizza and you sit in the bed, leaning onto each other. “I’m still sending him negative vibes, like spiritually”, you grumble as he giggles before slipping off to sleep for the night.

[empty-movement]

sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.

[macverse]

What you hope you can change

---

Chris wants you back but doesn't know if he deserves you. He sees how much he's ruined everything. He wants you to be happy, but it hurts to let you go.

---

A/N: Well, I've accidentally started a mini-series. This was all supposed to be a one-shot, lol. The series started because @shipheart commented, “I wonder what the reader will do next” and then this happened.  I had a wild thought that this Chris/Reader couple could be the couple in Mi Amante and what happens in this series is what led them to start couples therapy. Some of the details are off but I like the idea that this is the back story. This series and Mi Amante are not related, it's just my headcanon within a headcanon, haha. I wrote once on something I was writing “I feel like I'm writing something much bigger than this is". I'm getting that same feeling again with these. It might be. Who knows. Special shout out to Vicky of Chris Evans fan page UK 🇬🇧 @chrisevansfanuk twitter. Since Mr. Evans had taken some time off when I started writing this, I need a secondary resource for content and research. These pages were a big help. Several 11 pm til much, much later writing well past the point of exhaustion sessions were supported by Vicky's pages. There was a very special sleepy moment where I was just blindly scrolling through your tweets cause I knew, I KNEW you had the info I needed but it was from months ago. I found it. Thank you so much.

---

“Chris?” 

I didn't mean to be here. I did come here on purpose but I didn't think it would be that easy to find her. I'd thought maybe if I saw Y/N from far away, I could make up my mind. If she seems happy, if she seems like she’s in a good place, I could turn around and walk away. I could try to move on and let her go if she was okay.

That's not how it happened. We literally almost ran right into each other. One second I was deciding to give up, thinking it was providence that I hadn't seen her and the next I was colliding with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?”, Y/N asks after we’ve both recovered. “I’m honestly not following you. I heard from a friend that they'd seen you around here,” shit that sounds like I'm stalking her. She needs to know that I didn't mean for this to happen like this. I know I don't deserve a second of her time but if I can just get a moment then maybe things can be better. I hold my hands up, my palms forward as I continue, “I just wanna talk.” Uh, stress is cruel, fame's a lie

But you're special, on every level

Success is cool, money is fine

But you're special, another level The shock of Y/N leaving LA was like getting thrown into the deep end of a pool in the middle of winter. I realized too late that I was being an idiot. I was the reason she’d been there in the first place and I ignored her. I didn’t do it on purpose. My schedule kept filling up and my free time kept disappearing. I missed her but work was work. It couldn’t be ignored.

My assistant Josh had mentioned that he was getting a feeling that Y/N wasn't having a good time or didn't have much to do. He was the one who made sure I’d get a plus one so she could accompany me to my events. He'd even put together a list of exhibits and classes that I knew that Y/N would love, places we could go, and things we could do on dates but I kept putting it off because I was busy. 

I kept thinking later, later but she left before I could get to later.

Listen

I see the men, they wanna touch ya

That's when I tell 'em, uh huh

I guess I am a jealous lover

'Cause I ain't sharin' with another lover

Stress is cruel, fame's a lie

But you're special, on every level

Success is cool, and money is fine

But you're special, another level

I was a mess after she left. I didn't have the time to be a mess but the minute there wasn't a camera in my face I would break down, the facade I kept up would crumble away and all I could feel was heartache. I muddled my way through the rest of the projects I had in LA. I can't even remember if I did work that I was happy with or not. The ache Y/N left in my chest was irrepressible. I could barely breathe sometimes. 

The hole Y/N left in my life was tangible. You don't realize how entwined someone is into the fabric of every minute of your life until it hits you in the face. 

I didn't realize how the simple touch of her hand stopped my mind from racing. I didn't realize how seeing her and my dog safely at home brought me peace.

I didn't realize how the smell of her perfume on the sheets made me feel like I was home every night.

I didn't realize how much her smile warmed me from the inside and made my heart sing in my chest.

I just didn't realize how much I loved her in my life...

Want more? Read the rest on my AO3.

[fratboykate]

so with the strike, are you going to have time to write more... I can't think of a better word, "proper" entries to kyfbau? Like I'm rereading the wedding and I can't really cry anymore for some reason, but the idea of these two dealing with the asshole Bishop parents is just... its so good.

If we strike I won't have shit to do for however long we're out so...yeah. We should've had a strike in 2020 but these greedy fucks were SO LUCKY with the pandemic. Our contracts are negotiated every 3 years so the last time it was up was May 2020. They played victims with their "oh no the pandemic we can't do anything for you" and obviously the world was in shambles then so we gave in. The work conditions have only deteriorated since then. With inflation, TV writer pay has gone down 23% in the last five years and 17% for films. Showrunners are making less money now than lower levels were ten years ago. A LOT of the people writing your favorite shows and movies are literally on food stamps. The model is abusive and it's not sustainable. Pretty soon only the kids of celebrities and other nepo babies will be able to afford to make a career out of this. That's the last thing we want. There's this huge misconception that everyone who works in the industry is rich and a lot of shitbags on twitter are ragging on writers for wanting to strike and calling us greedy/elites/whatever. That idea is WRONG. Probably less than 1% of all actors, directors, writers get paid millions of dollars. Everyone else was supposed to be "middle class" but that has disappeared in the last decade. Ten years ago a fraction of people worked for minimums (basically the equivalent of union minimum wage) and now MOST people including showrunners work for minimums. Minimums used to be the floor of what writers got paid and studios have now turned it into the maximum regardless of experience or previous success. They've been trying to hide behind the "streaming is not profitable" to do ENDLESS shady shit that I won't go into but that you can find if you scroll through the union tag on twitter. We don't even really get residuals for streaming. If a writer writes for a streaming show, your show could be watched millions of times across the world and you quite literally get residual checks worth cents. Meanwhile people who write for broadcast or cable get a hefty check every time their episode airs. That's one of the least offensive things they've been doing for the past few years.

All of the unions have contracts up this year and it's so bad that you might just see a cascade of strikes back to back. But writers are known to not be afraid to shut shit down so, while we're never the first up to negotiate (that's typically the DGA) other unions this year delayed their negotiations to see how it would go for us so they can basically ride our coat tails and get better deals for everyone. The 2007 strike lasted 100 days and it was so devastating many writers even lost their homes because they couldn't pay their mortgages. Writers are terrified but based on everything I'm seeing, when the Strike Authorization Vote results come back on Monday it's going to probably be close to 100% yes. We're fucking fed up and we're willing to risk everything because if we don't fix this shit now, it's only going to get exponentially worse. It's going to be devastating for a lot of people who are already financially struggling but this is the best long term alternative. No way around it. Soooo if we do strike…be kind to writers. Be kind to writers in general, all the time. People online love to pretend they know how this industry goes but you have NO CLUE unless you work in it. None. If you don't like what happened on a show or you have opinions, pretend it's 2001 and keep it to yourself. We get enough shit from the business to also have to deal with pedantic idiots online.

[c00kiejar]

Rant time!!

All below the break

I fucking HATE the culture of straight up begging for cash for any reason that the internet has created, and the perfect example it Twitter dot com (no, it's not X. Shut up). Every other day, I'll scroll down my feed of shitposts and games, and I'll see someone post smth like "My cat broke his leg and we can't afford the vet bill" or "My aunt is in the hospital and we need help paying for it", and like, I'm sorry that you're going through that and that you can't afford it, but literally deal with it like the rest of us.

Not even 15 years ago, this kind of begging was frowned upon and, in most cases, shunned outright because "You shouldn't be begging for money from random strangers on the internet", and yeah, you fucking shouldn't. People hate when homeless people ask for money, but suddenly act sooooo differently when it's a different stranger on the internet. You do realize that comes with all the same risks as helping a homeless person, right? Hell, it comes with more risks because you could get your computer or card compromised through whatever site they're using.

I sound like an asshole for saying this and I know it, but I'm just so sick of the begging. Just get on the sidewalk like in the better days or fucking deal with it like the rest of us, asshole. Nobody can afford anything, but most of us aren't pathetic enough to beg for money from random strangers.

Hold a real fundraiser, work extra hours, sell things, do what NORMAL PEOPLE DO, people with standards, people without your luxury of a platform that's, by the way, mostly bots. Fucking grow up and deal with it like a normal, grown adult, or get used to being poor. My whole family did (we're not broke, but we aren't living our best either. Lower middle class, probably), yours can too.

[jaderimehardt]

RedBubble Tiers Rant

This is probably going to be a long one so strap in 🙃

Yesterday a lot of us RedBubble artists received some ridiculous e-mail about RB going into 3 tiers soon. Standard, Premium, and Pro. This e-mail arrived not too long after us receiving another e-mail about them changing their payment system from us getting checks on the 15th, to us now getting them at the end of the month (for whatever reason).

Premium and Pro tiers basically won't get charged anything, if you happen to fall into those. Standard tier will get charged a fee every month depending on how much you make. You cannot choose your tier.

There also seems to be no rhyme or reason to which tier you get placed in.

In this example, that they- themselves, provided, if you were to earn 300$, you’d only receive 47$ of it after all was said and done. It’s down right baffling. (if you do the math, that’s 15% for this one specific example.)

They provide a chart so it breaks down further, here on this page. I'd include the chart they have but, it's massive and scrolls this post way more than I'm already going to do with all my rambling and ranting.

They’re basically taking an average of 40% of the artist’s earnings. (after already taking 50% to begin with.)

It's like they saw Etsy do it, and thought 'Hey, we can do this too'. I hate this so much. I used RedBubble because I work with digital art programs, not physical items.

(Or at least, I currently do.)

If you look on Twitter, everyone is abandoning ship. People hate this. It's like a repeat of DeviantArt when they implemented AI. They didn't consult the community first, they just outright added it and the community retaliated by deleting their art, deleting their accounts, and voicing their disdain.

That's exactly what's happening here; backlash. People are deleting their accounts and voicing how much they oppose this. Even buyers who don't have shops are being vocal about how they will never buy from RedBubble ever again because of this. They literally just dug themselves a grave. Great job guys 👍🏻 You have some real brainiacs over there running (more like ruining) your company.

Speaking of... RB: I see your stocks have been down and declining since the middle of 2018. Perhaps you should backtrack and start looking at what went wrong around that time, and oh~ I don't know. Try and reverse what went wrong. Do some damage control. Something. Something clearly in that time frame took a turn for the worse, but THIS. This is not the solution. This is an asinine decision. You're pushing away both your artists and buyers. How is that good for anyone?

Before things took a complete spiral south and I got that awful e-mail yesterday, I was looking up dozens upon dozens resin videos. It's something I've been looking into for a few months now and I'm hoping to completely dive into within the month or two?

I'm trying really hard to NOT see this as a train-wreck and more as an opportunity to Tony Stark, Clean Slate protocol.

Wipe out my RedBubble shop. Nuke my Wordpress, Instagram, Twitter, etc etc social platforms that go with it. Start anew probably on Etsy (as much as I don't think that's better). Pair it with Printful for those hoodies, t-shirts, mugs, stickers, prints, etc. And when I've got my resin items completed and good to go, I can add those into my shop too. It'll all be in one place.

But as much as I'm like ~there's light at the end of the tunnel, this will be good~ I keep spinning back around to 'aaaa~!' because frankly it's overwhelming. There's so much to do and so much to learn. I'm sure I'm not alone in that feeling. I just have to take it one step at a time and ease into it.

I told my friends I feel like I'm going through the 7 stages of grief because I'm cycling through anger and depression and acceptance and denial and I literally just keep looping, lol. *sigh* I'll get over it. I always do. I just need to turn on some good music or audio book and doodle something.

Whelp. One last look back before the end of the month and I delete my shop forever 🫡. Was good while it lasted? I guess? I don't know. (might delete it sooner, adkjskad)

I'm going my rounds on this, but I might straight up delete my 'stand-alone' (business) Wordpress entirely, and my Tumblr (not this one). Thinking about using this Tumblr and my blog Wordpress to keep things simple? Perhaps that’s why I’m over complicating some things…

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

bus ride

you’re on a bus with suna, and there’s some unresolved tension

an impulse write because i’ve wanted to sit on a bus with suna for a while now

pairing: suna x reader

“Are we almost there?” Suna asks rather miserably for the umpteenth time. You’re not sure if he’s asking because he’s genuinely suffering or if it’s because he’s picked up on the fact that his parroting of the question gets on your nerves, but all you can do is sigh.

“Suna, we’ve been on this bus for thirty minutes,” you mumble, frowning. “It’s gonna be a few more hours before we reach the stadium. You know that, right?”

You hear some grumbling followed by a sigh. Suna slouches in his seat, eyebrows furrowed before turning to look at you. He comes awfully close, reaching over the armrest that separated the two of you from each other and leans on your shoulder. It’s not a very comfortable position, and his overall dissatisfied expression gives it away, but neither of you says anything about the proximity. Instead, you clear your throat uncomfortably and try to ignore his presence while scrolling furiously through Twitter.

In the first place, you’re not even sure why he chose to sit next to you, especially since he always took the back row where he could nap comfortably in silence away from the twins in the front of the bus. He enjoyed having two seats to himself and that was always the case, but when you felt the weight shift from beside you, you could only stare agape at his drowsy figure settling down in the seat next to you. It was jarring to say the least.

“Then just nap,” you finally offer when you can’t stand his eyes practically boring holes into your side profile. He’s up to something, you think. Scheming. “Don’t you always nap during long rides?”

“Can’t,” he mumbles in response. He’s so close that you feel his breath tickle against your neck. “It’ll already be late when we get to the hotel anyway, and I won’t be able to sleep if I sleep now.”

“That’s literally never stopped you from napping before,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “You sleep at practice sometimes too. Don’t think I don’t catch you dozing off.”

“The manager shouldn’t be ogling at players during practice,” he fake-chides, chuckling ever so slightly at your exasperation. As expected, he’s just sitting here to push your buttons. Honestly, you’re not sure how long you’ll last.

“It’s hard to ignore when you’re the only person in the court that never moves.” You try your best to hide your embarrassment because he’s not entirely wrong. It was only sometimes though when your eyes seemed to naturally drift toward the middle- blocker. Sometimes. “I’m doing the team a favor by keeping you slightly focused at the very least.”

“You’re doing a very bad job, then,” he laughs. You hate how smug he is about everything and anything and wish he’d take you seriously for once. “Manager, I have a request.”

“No.”

“What happened to helping out the team?” You’re not sure if he realizes what he’s doing, but when his hand moves onto the armrest to put himself in a more comfortable position, it grazes against your own arm. Worst of all, he doesn’t move it, letting his warmth seep into your skin. “I’m part of the team, right?”

“No, you’re-,” you try to respond, but your words are stuck in your throat as he rests his head on top of your shoulder. Quickly glancing at his face, you’re a little disappointed to see that it’s still his poker face. You’d be infuriated if you weren’t so flustered by the way his hair prickles your shoulder and neck and the slight smell of his shampoo. It reminds you of the time when the two of you were caught in the rain and had no choice but to seek shelter in his home where he let you bundle up in his bedsheets while your clothes were in the dryer.

It smells like his blankets, his pillows, and you almost catch yourself thinking about what it’d be like to take a nap with him in his bed, but you stop yourself almost immediately.

“I’m what?” he asks, rather amused at your reaction. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, a tell that he, too, considers you something more than a friend, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“A loser,” you conclude firmly with your entire chest.

You couldn’t let him win this one. Instead, your eyes are back to your phone screen, ignoring the slight hum he makes before going completely silent. Still, he doesn’t bother removing his head from your shoulder, not even after he takes out his phone too to try and past time. You wish the bus ride would end soon, but judging from the time, you’d have to stay in this position for another four hours. It’s not entirely displeasing, having Suna this close to you, but it makes you more than nervous. It’s not unlikely for him to be able to hear the thudding of your heart, but you know that he knows all your tells like nobody else. He knows that you’re nervous and that’s why he doesn’t move.

You almost jump when your phone buzzes with a text from Suna. You’re mildly curious at what it is, but you try to ignore it. If you ignored it, he wouldn’t keep bothering you. Maybe he’d even give you some space to breathe and collect yourself.

But of course, he doesn’t, and you realize this when you get two more texts from him.

“Really?” you ask in utter disbelief. He doesn’t even react to your words, staring pointedly at his phone. “We’re right next to each other, you know?”

Another text.

Sighing, you finally tap on the banner wondering what the fuss is all about only to feel yourself wanting to beat him to a pulp. You weren’t expecting much, but you weren’t expecting so little either.

“Let’s play 8 Ball!”

“Let’s play 8 Ball!”

“Let’s play 8 Ball!”

“Let’s play 8 Ball!”

You groan inwardly. Of course, it’d be something useless like this. Of course. You hate that you feel a little disappointed, but you’re even more upset that you’re this let down by four 8 Ball texts.

“I guess you don’t want to play,” he murmurs, and you roll your eyes at that one. “I guess I will nap then.”

“That’s what I told you to do from the start,” you nearly hiss.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it,” he mumbles, closing his eyes, and you think you’re safe from trouble for now. Again, you’re wrong, but this time, it’s your fault.

It’s a few minutes into his nap when you’re almost sure that Suna’s fully asleep based on his slow breathing. You’ve always wondered what kind of magic he used to keep his hair the way it was, and the curiosity eats away at you. It’d be funny if his hair was solid stiff from gel, but you’re well aware that Suna isn’t the type to wake up early to work on his hair. Then again, surely it wasn’t just the power of bedhead-

You’d have to figure it for yourself. It’s not because of your massive crush, you reason. It’s because you just want to know what his hair feels like. That’s all.

Slowly, you set your fingers on top of Suna’s head, pleasantly surprised that it’s soft and fluffy. It’s not gel, you conclude, but although you already have your answer, your hand doesn’t leave its position. Raking through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, you almost smile to yourself at how peaceful it is. It’s silent, but you like it that way, especially with his quiet breathing in the background. The fact that nobody around you seems to have noticed either is an added bonus, and you play with his hair as you please, running your finger through his locks.

You’re mesmerized by how at peace Suna looks like. Without his usual half-cocky and half-tired smile or his normal poker face, you almost his childlike mischief that seemed to make you burn bright red every single time. You swear he leans into your touch at one point, and you have to crack a smile at how he likes to be spoiled so much. He’s never normally the affectionate type, preferring to stay on the sidelines to cause trouble, so when you notice that he’s enjoying someone playing with his hair even in his sleep, it makes your heart flutter.

“Hey, Y/N, do you have any band-aids-,” instantly disrupts you from your peace, and you quickly fling your hand out of Suna’s hair to look up at Aran. The two of you maintain eye contact in silence. It’s awkward to say the least, especially when Aran tries to open his mouth to say something quick to save you from your humiliation but closes it, no words coming to mind. Instead, he clears his throat, nods, and walks away. “I think I have one in my bag actually. Sorry.”

“Well, that was awkward,” Suna comments from his seat after Aran is out of earshot. You’re mortified and can only stare at the boy in shock.

“How long were you awake?” Panic fills you as you suddenly realize that he probably was just pretending asleep all along.

“I never fell asleep in the first place.” He says it calmly still on your shoulder, voice unwavering, and you envy him for that. In contrast, you know that you’re distress is very much visible on your face, and he knows that too. That’s why he spares you a small smile. “So…are you going to continue?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It seemed like you were having a good time,” he teases, but when you don’t reply out of sheer embarrassment, he wordlessly takes your hand in his and places it back on his head. You try to sputter something out but fall back into silence as he tries to move your still hand around on his scalp before sighing and giving up altogether. Closing his eyes, Suna releases his grip on your wrist, fingers lingering around your skin before setting his hand back down on the armrest. “And I guess it was felt pretty good on my side too. Kinda.”

You keep your hand on his head out of shock, but you feel your arm falling asleep before Suna gets the chance to properly doze off. When that happens, he simply sighs and takes it back into his own hand.

[satendou]

⟼  iwaizumi hajime & matsukawa issei

⍣ the proposal: poly edition | previous: shirabu & tendou | next: to be decided | 2/?

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi/reader/matsukawa

⇢ au: aged up!au

⇢ summary: where you went on one of your first dates

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: none

⇢ word count: 1552

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: one thing i love about the seijoh boys is that literally any pairing works together

“hey, you guys wanna go do something?” iwaizumi said, coming out of the bedroom already dressed in jeans and a blue flannel button down. it was open, displaying a white t-shirt beneath, his hair still wet from the shower.

matsukawa raised his eyebrow, glancing at him over his phone as if to say, “now?”

“aren’t you tired, haji?” you asked, brows furrowing as you looked up at him from matsukawa’s lap. your phone was also in your hands, scrolling through twitter absently, ready to stay in even though it was a saturday. iwa hadn’t been home more than an hour from practice with the team, and usually he just wanted to veg afterwards.

iwa shrugged in response, motioning for the two of you to follow him out the door. it was true that he was tired, but he had something much more important planned for the three of you than falling asleep on the couch.

he didn’t say where he was taking you, the conversation consisting mostly about how the team was coming along and matsukawa telling you about a strange couple that had come into the funeral home that day to look at caskets. iwa’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove out of the city and, from the backseat, it seemed like your partners were forcing the conversation. it felt tense in the car, causing your heart to beat faster while you flipped between watching them and the scenery flashing by outside the window.

after what felt like ages, iwaizumi pulled off the road into an empty parking lot. you knew where you were, since it was a well known spot to look out over the city. the sun hadn’t quite set yet, but the lights of the city were already shining bright, overlaid by the pinks, purples, and oranges cast by the dying light of the sun.

it had been ages since you had been there, though you still remembered coming on one of your first dates with the two of them, when the three of you were still figuring out your dynamics. it was a fond memory and, as your fingers wrapped around the worn wood railing, you smiled.

“what is it, sweetheart?” matsukawa asked, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. his impressive height allowed him to comfortably rest his chin atop your head, taking in the beautiful sight before him and the warmth of you in his arms. he was sure he already knew what you were thinking-- it was the whole reason he and iwa had chosen to come here tonight.

iwa was the last to join the three of you, bracing himself against the railing and surveying the city before him with satisfaction as you answered matsukawa.

“remember when we came up here on, what was it? our second date?” you asked, looking to iwa for confirmation. it’s what you always did when you were unsure-- he always had the answer.

“third, and i do remember. how could i forget? we were still trying to figure us out and this is where we decided we would make it work. i’ll never forget,” he said, the corner of his lips turning up in a gentle half-smile as he looked at you and matsukawa. a soft fondness swept through him, overtaking the pounding of his heart for just a moment.

“now look how far we’ve come,” matsukawa said, turning to rest his cheek on top of your head so he could look at iwa. the weight in his pocket was a reminder of exactly that, how easily the three of you first clicked, how unsure you were when you first realized you all felt more for each other than just friendship, how hard you had fought to make it work through the derision and ridicule of others that said your relationship wasn’t normal. there had been fights, jealousy, and insecurity as with any relationship, and the three of you had all come out stronger on the other side, more determined than ever to be together.

taking a deep breath, iwa took your hand, smiling gently even though it felt like his heart was going to come up though his throat. the words he wanted to say stuck for a moment, his lips parted as he stared down at you before glancing up at matsukawa.

with a nod of reassurance from him, iwa said haltingly, “y’know, i never really imagined this-- having two partners. let alone one of them being my best friend or it lasting as long as it has. i-- i’m not good with words--”

“not unless you’re yelling at someone,” matsukawa interrupted, grinning at the way the faint blush on iwa’s cheeks exploded into true color. “i feel the same though. back then, i never would’ve thought we’d come this far. don’t think anyone else did either.” he pulled away from you then, turning you so that you faced the both of them, the setting sun at your back, setting off the color in their eyes.

your heart was pounding, wondering where they were going with their little speech, until they each knelt down.

“i know we can’t actually get married,” iwa said, glancing at matsukawa beside him. this was as much for him as it was for you, and vice versa, even though they had planned this together. neither of them were confident in their ability to pick out a ring, and neither of them was well known for being good at romantic ideas, but together they had come up with something they thought was perfect.

matsukawa took iwa’s hand in his, linking their fingers together while he gave him his signature lazy smile. “we may not be able to get married but we can still have a ceremony to make it official. even if it’s just to us.”

you were standing before them, silent as a mouse, fingertips touching your lips with a look of surprise on your face. iwa took your free hand in his while matsukawa pulled a box out of his pocket, flipping it open and presenting it to you.

“that is, if you want it to be official,” matsukawa said, trying to joke to soothe the nervous beating of his heart. he was surprised you couldn’t hear it with how hard it was banging against his ribs. 

you looked from matsukawa to iwa, searching his face for something, some sign of joking or malice and found nothing. his eyes were swimming with anxiety and unshed tears as he looked up at you, backlit by the dying sun.

“we want to know-- want to ask-- will you marry us?” he asked, barely a broken whisper of sound in the silence between the three of you.

it took you a moment, looking from iwa to the ring to matsukawa and back, your heart racing so fast it left you lightheaded. part of you had been expecting this, given the location, their strange behavior in the car, and their little speech, but it managed to blindside you anyway.

you realized you hadn’t answered after several long seconds, during which iwa and matsukawa traded worried looks. they couldn’t know that you were thinking about how many times you had pictured this exact moment, hoping it would happen but unsure of how to bring it up when they never said anything either. your daydreams could never compare to the real thing though.

“yes,” you whispered, voice high pitched and strained with tears coming on. “god, yes, please. hajime, issei--”

you found yourself swept up in their arms, crushed against matsukawa’s chest while iwa smothered you from behind. you couldn’t stop the sobs breaking free, muffled by mattsun’s hard chest. lips were pressing kisses everywhere they could reach-- the top and back of your head, your ears, your cheek. you could hardly breathe from the strength of their holds, unsure of where one began and the other ended, knowing only for sure that it felt right.

after a few minutes-- during which you soaked the front of mattsun’s shirt-- iwa finally pulled you away, turning you around to face him. his hands remained on your hips, lips touching your forehead briefly before the two of you watched matsukawa slip the white gold band onto your finger from behind. the diamonds glinting from it weren’t small by any means, but weren’t as big as they could’ve gotten. it was representative of them and your bond, with three stones sitting front and center on two bands woven together.

iwa pulled out another box from his pocket, inside of which were nestled two plain white gold bands. offering them to you, you plucked one from the soft velvet and examined it, finding your name and matsukawa’s engraved inside. fresh tears pricked your eyes and you took iwa’s hand, slipping the ring onto his left ring finger. iwa took the last one from the box and took matsukawa’s hand, pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles before his ring was placed on his finger.

the three of you stood in silence, admiring the rings together. your heart was still racing, mind still spinning with a myriad of emotions but with iwa’s face hidden in your neck and matsukawa pressing kiss after kiss wherever he could reach, you couldn’t have been more content.

⇥ masterlist

⍣ the proposal: poly edition | previous: shirabu & tendou | next: to be decided

[ariiikat]

Hey everyone! It’s been a while :3

Firstly, the reason why I’ve haven’t been actively writing stuff and only reblogging things to let my mutuals know I’m okay, is because I had an absolute crisis and anxiety ridden term 2 at my uni. It didn’t help that Sydney went into lockdown so I’ve been trying to stay sane and alive with the lack of shifts coming at my job... and rethinking my approach to my degree at uni.

But I know for a fact not many of you are interested in that, but in my writing...

Some people have been wondering when I’m going to add the next instalment of The Love Story of Ruby Rose and Weiss Schnee (specifically a sequel to Lovely Beginnings)... and to be honest, I fell out of the RWBY fandom officially.

I tried my hardest to keep up but I’ve just... moved on. AND I know it sucks! I’m in the middle of this story and it was starting to just get good, but I’ve lost the motivation to write meaningful content on it.

I am especially apologetic to those people who also had recently just found my story and have begun supporting the hell out of it! You’ve reminded me that I can’t just leave things and that some people have been waiting for something, so thank you for helping getting my head out of my ass 🥺.

Going back to the whiterose fanfic, this lack of motivation was kinda prevalent in the chapters, some chapters were kind of speeding along and I didn’t really bother working with the ending as much as I knew I could’ve!

But... thing is I’m very stubborn and I don’t like leaving things unfinished... so here it goes!

I will finish the second part of the series, then at the end of it I will upload a chapter dedicated to what would’ve happened. A lot of you guys have been supporting me since I made this as a one off story years ago so you guys at least deserve a glimpse into the life of Ruby and Weiss as a couple, and then what was meant to be in their future.

After that, I won’t upload anymore RWBY content. I still watch and comment on the show when it comes back from its hiatus but fanfics and art won’t happen anymore.

ALSO

I haven’t been posting that many hot takes on tumblr, and that’s because I’ve accidentally defaulted to what I usually used it for, scrolling through art and post and reblogging it.

Should I change it? Honestly tumblr is my comfort site when finding things funny or looking through fanart. After some of your guys’ dm and the good convos we have, I’d actually love to get better friends with you! Online at least. So after a suggestion I finally am opening my Twitter from private so ya’ll who are interested can get a peak into my life and see more of my opinions on there. I’m usually more reactive to things there since... I dunno it feels more interactive. Also! I personally like using their dm system more even if there is literally nothing that different from this site. I’ll probably move it to private after a while but I’ll make sure to follow you back :3

I’m @ariiikat if you are interested in getting to know me more :)

(the dp should be an offended cat)

This was a dormant account I never really used until recently so happy to see you there!

If there’s no one there whelp I’ll just chill in my lonesome 😎

[knuffled]

just practice - chapter ten

chapter ten is here, yay! hope you all enjoy it! somewhat important update in the notes at the end of the chapter on ao3 for those interested. thanks in advance!

ao3 link here

Holding the premier of the school play on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving was a bold move in Annabeth’s opinion, so it was surprising that the school’s parking lot was nearly filled, although that almost certainly had to do with the fact that Piper was playing Viola in the school’s production of Twelfth Night. Her performances in the school plays had turned into something of local legend after all. It had all started when she landed the role of Ophelia as a freshman, a feat in and of itself, but it was the way that she had sent audiences home in tears each night of the production that had catapulted her to near mythic status among the student body. It had gotten to the point where even many members of the football team could be found patiently waiting in line to watch a Shakespearean play.

Ever prepared, Annabeth had come fairly early to help secure seats for herself and the rest of her friends. The moment the doors opened, she made a beeline for the rows close to the stage and found some center seats, but when the auditorium began to fill its seats quicker than she anticipated and none of her friends had yet to arrive, she was forced to concede all of the seats she’d reserved except for two, one on either side of her. As more and more of the seats began to get filled, She came close to sending a text in the group chat as her sense of worry grew. Fortunately, that was when Jason showed up, a grateful smile on his face as he sank into the seat next to her. He took off his jacket, draping it on the seatback, and rubbed at the dark bags beneath his eyes.

“You look like a panda,” Annabeth said, smirking.

Jason ran his fingers through his hair and scowled. “Very funny. I’ve been neck deep in planning for the stupid after-party, and it has been a total nightmare.”

“So I take it that working with Drew Tanaka isn’t a good time then?”

Jason rolled his eyes and said, “There’s just something about event planning that turns her into a demon. At one point, I legitimately thought she was going to skin me alive.”

“Very dramatic,” Annabeth teased, squeezing his shoulder. “At least the worst is over now.”

“I sure hope so,” Jason muttered. “Otherwise, I might not live to see another day.”

Annabeth was about to say something when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She fished it out and looked at the caller ID, which immediately sent a frisson of irritation running through her. That was probably the seventeenth time this random number had called her over the past two weeks. She didn’t recognize the number at all, but whoever it was happened to be incredibly persistent about calling her.

“That number again?” Jason asked.

Annabeth sighed and nodded. “It’s starting to get really fucking annoying.”

“You should just block ‘em and save yourself the trouble,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Annabeth said, sighing. “I’ll do it after the show.”

Jason nodded and pulled out his phone to shoot some texts, presumably to the group organizing the after-party. Annabeth spent her time scrolling mindlessly through Twitter, waiting for Percy to show up, but he was still missing two minutes before the show was due to begin. It was only once the lights began to dim that Annabeth heard the familiar cadence of his footsteps behind her. Percy squeezed past the people who were already seated, murmuring apologies as he passed by, before he sank into the seat beside her. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and winced as he probed his upper back muscles.

Annabeth looked at him with concern and said, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Percy said, grimacing.

“I swear your coach has been extending practices by an hour every month now since the start of the school year.”

Percy huffed a laugh. “You’re probably right. I swear, he’s trying to kill me. Literally every part of my body hurts right now.”

Annabeth frowned in the dark. In all his years on the team, she had never heard Percy complain about his body hurting after practices. His coach must have been pushing him even harder over this past month than normal. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

She leaned in to him to whisper to him and found her face heating up at the distracting scent of body wash and chlorine clinging to his skin, evidence of the post-practice shower he must have taken before coming here.

It took her a moment to collect her thoughts and mumble, “If you feel that bad, you should have just gone home. Piper would understand.”

“I’m not missing the premier just because I’m a little sore,” Percy said, shaking his head.

Annabeth paused before giving him a tentative nod and turning back to the stage, but she still felt lingering traces of embarrassment. That scent was beyond familiar to her and it had been for years, so she was troubled by how she had suddenly become so conscious of it.

Fortunately, the start of the play gave her a way to stop treading down that creepy train of thought. She had read Twelfth Night once during middle school, but it hadn’t made much of an impression on her. Seeing it performed now, the play was a lot better than she had remembered, but then again Piper had always insisted that there was a huge difference between reading a play versus seeing one live. For a high school play, Annabeth couldn’t help being impressed by the level of care and effort that had gone into every element of the production, from the set design to the lighting and wardrobe. Of course, the actors were great as well, but Piper stole the show as Annabeth had expected.

It took her a while to realize that Percy was mouthing lines beside her, nearly verbatim. At first, she’d thought she was hearing things, but when she stole a sidelong glance at Percy, she noticed that he was leaning forward in his seat, staring intently at the stage and whispering the lines to himself.

“But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them,” Percy mouthed.

On stage, Piper said, “Thy reason, man?”

Percy whispered, "Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.”

Annabeth shook her head in amazement before knocking elbows with him to get his attention. He froze in his seat, face turning a gentle shade of vermilion in response to being caught, before turning to face her.

“You know all the lines?” Annabeth whispered incredulously.

Percy ducked his chin. “Not all of them, just the scenes where Piper has lines. Must have helped her rehearse them like a hundred times.”

“And let me guess, she didn’t ask for your help: you volunteered,” she said, sighing.

Annabeth found herself shaking her head again when he rubbed the back in his neck and looked away with a sheepish smile. It was amazing that Percy had managed to memorize all those lines, but it was even more impressive that he had done so while juggling all his other responsibilities. Her heart welled up inside her chest looking at him while he tried to not-so-subtly divert her attention back to the play, still blushing profusely, as if he didn’t realize he was more amazing in her eyes than anything Shakespeare could’ve ever written.

Before she knew it, the play was over, and Annabeth found herself waiting backstage with her friends for Piper to finish changing into her normal clothes. Leo and Frank spoke quietly to one another while Hazel was noodling with her phone. Jason drummed his fingers against his pants and rocked on his heels and kept looking down the hallway to the changing rooms with poorly suppressed excitement, practically embodying the spirit of a golden retriever. Percy stood beside her, leaning against a wall with his eyes closed, close enough for their elbows to touch.

When Piper showed up with an exhausted smile on her face, Jason rushed in and pulled her into a fierce hug.

“You were amazing,” he said.

Piper laughed tiredly and whispered, “Thanks, Jace.”

Jason stepped away suddenly and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed by such a public display of affection. Piper rolled her eyes and poked him with her elbow before turning to address the rest of them.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I really appreciate it.”

“Jason is right,” Frank said. “You were really great out there tonight.”

Everyone chimed in with words of agreement, which flustered Piper a little, much to Annabeth’s delight. Piper rarely ever got flustered except when she got bombarded by compliments that she had rightfully earned. Percy was the only one who didn’t say anything, but he watched the entire scene with a soft smile on his face. Once she’d given everyone else a hug, Piper met Percy’s eyes, her eyes shining with gratitude, and a wordless understanding passed between them.

“So, after-party everyone?” Jason asked.

Piper leaned against him and nodded tiredly. “I could certainly use a drink right now.”

Jason smiled before turning to the group and saying, “It’s at Drew’s place. I texted the address to our group chat in case anyone didn’t remember it.”

With that, they dispersed and made their way to the parking lot. It was dark outside even though it wasn’t all that late, but it was nothing unexpected considering December was on its way. Annabeth buried her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt, but she still couldn’t help shivering as the wind howled past them.

Percy smoothed his wind-tousled hair with a scowl before he gave her a sidelong glance. “So I’m guessing your parents didn’t change their mind about the after-party then?”

Annabeth nodded. “They are still insisting that I spend some quality ‘family time’ with them for Thanksgiving. Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Maybe it’s a good sign,” Percy said.

Annabeth snorted and said, “Knowing Helen, I highly doubt that. It’s probably just going to be a miserable meal with passive aggressive comments for dessert.”

Percy stopped and gave her forearm a gentle squeeze, forcing her to meet his eyes, which shone with concern.

“If it gets bad and you ever need to get out of the house, give me a call, okay?”

Annabeth tried for a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to her ears. “Come on, Jackson. You don’t think I can survive one measly dinner?”

“I know you can,” Percy said, firmly but not unkindly. “But there’s a big difference between surviving something and not having to suffer because of it.”

She didn’t really know how to respond to that, so she just remained silent. Percy looked at her and waited for a short while before he sighed and dropped her arm. Annabeth could tell by the downturn of his lips and the furrow of his brow that he still wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t plan on changing her mind. No matter what happened at tonight’s dinner, she was determined not to call Percy. A nameless fear had begun to take root inside her. She couldn’t say what it was, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if she continued to rely on Percy as heavily as she had. Maybe she was completely off-base or maybe she was simply imagining the whole thing. And yet it grated on her like an itch she couldn't scratch, telling her, compelling her to at least do something.

Percy scuffed his converses against his ankle and nodded again. “Well, I guess I'll see you when you come over on Friday then?”

Annabeth nodded and watched him leave before she made her way back to her car. She didn’t remember much of the drive back home. The spam caller called again at some point, but apart from that the only thing that stuck out was how the pit in the center of her stomach grew the closer she got to her house. When she wasn't eating outside the house, Annabeth usually holed herself in her bedroom until the rest of the family finished dinner before she went downstairs to microwave the leftovers and bring them back upstairs with her. Tonight, unfortunately she had no such avenue of escape.

Once she parked in the driveway, Annabeth continued to sit there in the dark, her hands wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly the cheap stitching on the faux leather dug into her palms. She couldn’t help thinking at that moment that silence wore many different faces. When she was with Percy, silence was companionable and radiated a warmth that felt like trust. When she went for a run, silence was open and peaceful, almost like a physical space where she could leave reality behind for a short while. When she watched Percy give his mother a hug before he left the house, silence was wistful and forlorn, wrapping around her heart like tendrils of smoke. But now, as she sat in the car outside her own house, silence was unforgiving and violent, like a shark sensing blood in the water, waiting for her to tear herself to shreds.

But eventually, Annabeth screwed her eyes shut and forced herself to take a deep breath before she finally made her way inside. She slipped past the door and quietly took her shoes off before heading to the dining room. The rest of her family was already seated and had started eating.

“Ah, Annabeth, we weren’t sure if you would make it, so we got started a little early,” Helen said, voice dripping with faux sincerity.

Annabeth pursed her lips and nodded sharply before she pulled out a chair for herself and sat down. She didn’t put much on her plate — barely enough mashed potatoes to make a mound drizzled with gravy, a small piece of grilled chicken, and some buttered vegetables — and tried to finish her food as quickly as she could so she could retreat to her room.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Helen to take issue with that. “Someone certainly seems to be in a rush today.”

Annabeth looked up from her plate and tried to quell the fire in her eyes, but it was difficult when Helen looked at her with that smile of hers like poisoned honey, while the coldness in her eyes communicated her utter and absolute disdain for Annabeth in a way words never could. Briefly, she looked to her father to see if he might intervene, but like always, she was disappointed. He was staring absentmindedly at the wall behind her, probably thinking about his research.

"I'm just really tired," Annabeth lied.

"And yet you had just enough energy to go to your friend's play," Helen said.

"It's almost like human beings have less energy over the course of a day."

She had tried very hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but it didn't seem to matter judging by the tick of Helen's jaw. Annabeth couldn't help deriving a twisted sense of pleasure at the momentary collapse in Helen's composure.

Helen sighed with mock affectation. "Children your age are so disrespectful these days."

Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "Must be because we’re on our phones all the time."

A gleam passed in Helen's eyes. "Or maybe it's because you associate with the wrong kinds of people."

Annabeth furrowed her brow and deliberately set her fork aside. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Helen raised her wineglass and took a sip before she spoke, and when she did her tone was feather-light. "Oh, it's nothing. As your mother, I'm just concerned when a girl your age spends all her time unsupervised, doing lord knows what, with someone like that Jackson boy."

Annabeth balled her hands into fists. “‘Someone like him’? You don’t even know him.”

Helen looked at her imperiously over the rim of her wine glass. “I don’t need to know him to know that he’s of the wrong sort.”

It took Annabeth a second to decipher what Helen had meant, but once she did the pit in her stomach burned with hellfire.

Annabeth barked a harsh laugh and crossed her arms over her chest. “So he’s the ‘wrong sort’ just because he isn’t white?”

“That wasn’t what I said,” Helen said mildly.

“No, but it's what you meant.”

For the first time that night, her father spoke, voice low yet firm.

“Annabeth,” he warned.

Annabeth bit her tongue and wrestled with the urge to scream. At that moment, her phone vibrated again in her pocket, so Annabeth decided to run with it. Anything to give her an excuse to leave.

Her chair emitted an unholy screech as she stood up. “I have to take an important call.”

Annabeth didn’t wait for Helen’s permission and left the dining room quickly, only just noticing the irritation in her eyes. She went upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

When she looked at the caller ID and noticed it was that same spam number again, Annabeth clenched her jaw and made to reject the call before an idea occurred to her. If she couldn’t show any emotion around her family, well then this stubborn asshole who clearly couldn’t tell she wasn’t going to answer the phone would give her a good opportunity to vent.

“Hello?” Annabeth snapped, answering the phone.

The voice on the other end of the line sounded male. “Oh, um, hello. Am I speaking with Ms. Annabeth Chase?”

“Yes,” Annabeth spat. “And who are you?”

There was a pause — the speaker was clearly taken aback by Annabeth’s open hostility, but it didn’t take long for them to recover.

“I apologize if this is a bad time, but my name is Rick Waters. I’m the coach of the women’s cross country team here at the University of California, Berkeley. I just wanted to reach out to you regarding the offer of admission we sent you a month or so ago.”

A panicked flurry of thoughts blew through Annabeth's mind. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were a telemarketer. Did you say that you sent me an offer of admission a month ago?”

“Yes, we sent a letter in early October to be precise.”

“I never got anything in the mail,” Annabeth said, frowning.

“Oh, well I suppose that certainly explains things. Perhaps there was a mistake made somewhere along the way, but no harm done. I could inform you of our offer over the phone now, if you'd like."

Annabeth pressed a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes. "Um, yes, please do."

"Well, we've been scouting all over the country for new runners for the incoming freshman class, and we were very interested in you. You are clearly a very talented distance runner, and I think you would be a wonderful asset and a great fit with our team here at Cal. All our facilities are state-of-the-art, and we have some former Olympians on our coaching staff in addition to a team of dietitians, physical therapists, and psychologists. I’ll pause here if you have any questions.”

“No, not at the moment, sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed,” Annabeth said, mind reeling.

“I understand,” he said. “The reason I have been trying so hard to reach you, though, is because we need to know your decision before the 30th, which is in four days.”

Only four days? How the fuck was she supposed to write all those supplementary essays in only four days? It had taken her months to just finish the essays for the Common App.

“What is the process if I decide to commit to Berkeley?” Annabeth asked. “Like, am I required to send an application and include essays?”

“No, we wouldn’t need anything supplementary. We do, however, require a transcript, but we’ve already been in contact with your high school regarding that, and it was more than satisfactory. In fact, we were highly impressed with your academic performance.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Annabeth said, feeling relieved.

“Of course,” the coach said. “One final thing I wanted to mention is that we would be willing to offer you a fairly sizable athletic scholarship should you decide to attend in the fall. It would cover a majority of your tuition and room and board fees.”

Annabeth leaned against her door and sank down to the floor, smiling so widely it hurt. The one fear she had had was how she would afford going to Berkeley, so she was beyond relieved that they were willing to give her a scholarship. For once in her life, it seemed that all her hard work had actually amounted to something. For once, her accomplishments actually mattered.

“Thank you so much,” Annabeth said quietly.

“Take some time to think about it, but please do get back to us by the 30th so that we can secure your admission. To be perfectly honest, the deadline for athletic recruitment ended in October, but I’ve been adamant with the Admissions Office that you were special and that the deadline be extended on your behalf.”

Annabeth's throat constricted and her heart squeezed in her chest. “I really don't know what to say. Just thank you so much. I really do appreciate it. I’ll be sure to get back to you by the 30th.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

With that, the phone call ended, and Annabeth knocked the back of her head against the door and stared up at the ceiling, not sure whether to cry or laugh. As the coach had said, recruitment was usually finished by October, so the fact that she hadn’t received any offers from schools had been depressing. She had assured herself that her application was strong enough on its own to brave the conventional admissions process, but this was an immense weight off her shoulders. Of course, that meant that all those hours she’d spent on writing her stupid Common App essay had been pretty much useless, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The only thing that soured her mood was the knowledge that she still needed to go back downstairs to deal with her step-mother now that the call was over. Annabeth sat there and looked up at her popcorn ceiling, trying to muster the strength to get up, but it still took her the better part of ten minutes before she finally rose to her feet and closed the door behind her.

:::

Friday at the Jackson household was often a rambunctious affair, but it was quieter than normal when Annabeth came to visit the day after Thanksgiving. But that was largely due to the fact that Paul happened to be away at a teacher’s conference, Estelle at a playdate at a friend’s house, and Sally was upstairs, working on her writing, which left Annabeth alone with Percy downstairs.

He had been the one to suggest that they bake something together, much to her relief. She had wanted to do something where she could turn her brain off, and there was just something about baking in particular that tended to calm her down. As Annabeth sat on the countertop, swinging her legs, and watched Percy riffle through the pantry in search of ingredients, it occurred to her that that was probably why he’d suggested the activity to begin with. The domesticity of Percy humming a tuneless melody under his breath while moving about the kitchen in his pajamas made warmth blossom in her chest.

"Are you gonna help out or are you just continue checking me out, Chase?" Percy asked, looking inside a cupboard for vanilla extract.

Annabeth felt heat rush to her face as she hopped off the counter. She tried to keep her tone light and asked, "What am I not allowed to check out my fake-boyfriend?"

Percy looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Then surely you wouldn't mind if I were to check out my fake-girlfriend then."

Annabeth's heart fluttered in her chest. "It almost sounds like you're asking for permission."

It was hard to tell if the look in Percy’s eyes was teasing or challenging. "And if I am?"

Her throat had suddenly become completely dry. She wasn't sure if the move here was to say yes and double down or if she should play it off and change the topic.

She settled for the former and said, "And what would you do if I said yes?"

Percy's eyes darkened and his eyes darted to her lips for an instant before he cleared his throat conspicuously and turned away. “Good job. That should work when you get a real boyfriend.”

With that, the tension in the room dissipated into thin air, leaving Annabeth with a vague sense of dissatisfaction, although she couldn’t explain where it came from. Annabeth tried her best to put the interaction behind her and started helping Percy find the remaining ingredients, but she found her eyes wandering towards him without her permission. It was definitely because of the previous exchange, Annabeth reasoned, that she suddenly began paying attention to the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of his thin t-shirt when he reached up to get some nutmeg or the hard line of his jaw when she caught a glimpse of his profile as he turned away.

Her face began to heat up again, but this time it was because she was actually guilty of the crime she'd been accused of. She shook her head in an effort to dispel those thoughts, but she couldn't erase the images taking center stage in her mind's eye.

This was really fucking weird. She'd seen Percy practically every day for the last ten years, and his body had never distracted her like this, so it felt creepy and wrong. Yet, her eyes continued to wander towards him whenever she wasn’t vigilant, much to her embarrassment, as they started making the cookies.

They were nearly ready to put the chocolate chip cookie batter into the oven when Percy stopped and suddenly groaned.

"What?" she asked.

"I forgot the blue food coloring," he grumbled. "Mom and I ran out last time we made cookies."

Annabeth knew better than to ask him if it was really that important for the cookies to be blue, so she nodded and said, "Should we go to the grocery store?"

"Yeah, just let me get changed," Percy said, leaving the kitchen.

Sally made her way down the stairs and smiled as Percy went past her. She stepped into the kitchen and surveyed it for a moment before looking to her with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well, at least you both don't make nearly as big a mess as you used to."

"Sorry," Annabeth said, her face heating up.

"Relax, dear," Sally said, laughing. "I'm just pulling your leg."

Annabeth managed a smile and said, "How was your book tour?"

Sally leaned against the counter-top and sighed. "Exhausting, but overall, pretty good. Each time I have to do one of them, they just keep adding more and more cities. I know that it's a sign my books are reaching a wider audience, but it still wears out an old woman like me."

"You're not old at all, Sally," Annabeth said genuinely.

A warm smile crossed Sally's face. "You're sweet, dear. How have things been with you?"

Percy came downstairs, now that he'd changed, and jangled his car keys. "Ready to go?"

Annabeth looked to Sally and felt a surge of gratitude when Sally told Percy, "You go on ahead. Annabeth and I are going to have some girl time."

Percy looked between the two of them for a moment before he shrugged and left the kitchen. Annabeth waited until she heard the sound of the garage door closing before she spoke again.

"How did you know?" Annabeth asked.

"Hmm, know what?" Sally asked.

"Know that I wanted to talk to you.”

"I've known you since you were seven, dear," Sally said, giving her a significant look.

Annabeth couldn't help the fact that that brought a smile to her face. "Percy told me that he got recruited by USC."

"Mhmm."

“I’m happy for him and everything, but- I don’t know. It’s just that college actually feels real now and not like something imaginary in the far off future,” Annabeth said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"It’s a big change," Sally admitted. "But I'm sure you both can handle it when the time comes."

"I know,” Annabeth said. “I’m just worried about being apart from Percy and stuff.”

"Well, if you’re that worried, what if you found a college close by LA?" Sally asked.

Annabeth shook her head. "A recruiter from Berkeley reached out to me Wednesday night about joining the cross country team there. He said the university would even be willing to give me a pretty big scholarship, so I'm thinking of accepting."

"Annabeth, that's fantastic," Sally beamed. "Your parents must be so proud of you."

"They just asked how I was going to pay for it," Annabeth said, smiling thinly.

Sally's eyes softened and she pulled her into a warm hug. Annabeth didn't expect a lump to form in her throat, but it didn't surprise her when it happened. She knew from prior experience that Sally Jackson's hugs did tend to have that sort of effect.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm so incredibly proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished," Sally said. "Lord knows how hard you've worked these past few years."

"Thank you," Annabeth said, trying not to let her voice quiver.

Sally pulled away and framed Annabeth's face in her hands, smiling softly. "You've grown into such a wonderful young woman. It’s almost hard to believe that bossy little seven year old would grow up like this."

Annabeth wiped at her nose as a watery laugh escaped her. "Well, one thing hasn't changed: I'm still pretty bossy."

"Well, no one's perfect, after all," Sally said, a twinkle in her eye. "I really don’t think you have anything to worry about, dear. Berkeley and LA are in the same state."

"It's a five hour and forty-two minute drive," Annabeth said. "I, um, checked on Google Maps."

"That’s not that bad," Sally said. “You and Percy can deal with that.”

Annabeth shifted on her heels. "No, it's not that. I know we'll be okay, but I'm just worried it'll change things."

"Well, I know that the way you two feel about each other won't change and that's the most important thing," Sally said firmly.

"Of course, things will be different, but that doesn't mean it has to get worse. This is just another stage you have to pass through in your life, just like Percy does. But despite all that change, you will still be Annabeth and Percy will still be Percy, and that is enough for me to believe you both will be fine."

Annabeth considered her words before nodding. "I still haven't told him."

"He'll be happy to hear it."

"I know he will," Annabeth said. "I just want to be less of a wreck when I tell him. I don't want him to worry."

Sally smiled and said, "That boy will worry about you regardless of what you do."

"He shouldn't have to though," Annabeth said desperately. I’m not worth it.

"No, perhaps he shouldn't," Sally admitted. "But he chooses to anyways, and who are we to say he's wrong for it."

There was a pause before Annabeth quietly said, "Sometimes, it feels like he loves so hard, so honestly, so naturally that it's impossible for me to catch up."

"That's just the way he is," Sally said, a sad smile on her face. "His name means 'To Destroy', but there's no one more protective, more loving than my boy. Been that way all his life, even when he shouldn't have had to. Because of that, I’m afraid that I've hurt him without knowing, hurt him in ways that can't be fixed."

"You mean with Gabe?" Annabeth asked.

Sally's eyes turned hard. "He started trying to protect me from him ever since he was six and I don’t think he has ever stopped. Even now, I can see he still doesn't completely feel comfortable around Paul, but he bears it for my sake. He has always been willing to cause himself pain if it means alleviating someone else’s suffering. Sometimes, I worry that he feels the need to be responsible for how other people feel.”

Sally’s words immediately made Annabeth think about her conversation with Kara and how she had said something similar:

I just remember being so fucking stunned. Like, your girlfriend is telling you she’s breaking up with you after cheating on you, and your response is to go be someone else’s fucking therapist?

Annabeth balled her hands into fists and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say. She had never been good with words or emotions, but she wasn’t even sure if this was something that could be fixed with just words. If she were like Percy, maybe she could think of the right combination of words to say in order to make this better, but she wasn’t.

She hated this. All her life, Annabeth had been praised for being intelligent. Most of her identity was built around that fact. Whenever her life went to shit, the one thing she could count on was the fact that she was smart: it was the one thing that made her feel like she was worth anything. But lately, Annabeth couldn’t help questioning if she’d built her entire sense of self around a lie. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been able to use her intelligence to solve a problem, or at least not any problem that mattered. It seemed pointless to have all this purported intelligence when life only sent her problems that couldn’t be solved just by thinking really hard.

Sally must have sensed Annabeth’s frustration because she put her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Although she felt a bit better, it did nothing to dispel the underlying sensation of weight, like someone was sitting on her chest.

The garage door opened and Percy popped into the kitchen with an exuberant smile, holding a bottle of blue food coloring in his hand.

“Managed to get the last one!” he beamed before his smile fell and he looked between the two of them. “What happened here?”

Sally gave Annabeth’s shoulder another squeeze before making her way to the staircase. “Oh, nothing. Just girl stuff.”

Percy nodded but clearly looked unconvinced. Once Sally was gone, he turned to her with a question in his eyes.

“Girl stuff?” he asked.

Annabeth found herself settling for a half-truth yet again. It seemed like that was all she did these days when she spoke to Percy.

“A recruiter contacted me from Berkeley,” she said, looking at her feet. “They’re giving me a big scholarship if I go there to join the cross country team.”

Percy blinked before breaking into a smile and rushing to her with open arms. “Holy shit, Annabeth, that’s insane! I’m so happy for you!”

Annabeth returned his hug and smiled into his shoulder — Sally had been so spot on about his reaction that, despite her heavy mood, it was kind of hilarious.

“Thanks.”

Percy looked at her with a searching gaze. “Then why do we seem so sad?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “I’m not sad. I was just getting emotional with your mom about how much I’ve matured.”

“Hmm, you don’t look all that mature to me,” Percy said, appraising her.

“Asshole,” Annabeth grumbled. “I don’t seem to recall that being your opinion back when you were trying to get permission to check me out.”

Percy’s face flushed at the accusation, and his voice jumped an octave as he stammered, “T-That was to help you practice.”

“Yeah, sure,” Annabeth drawled. “Very convincing.”

“Now who’s being an asshole?”

“Couldn’t be me,” Annabeth said lightly.

“Of course not,” Percy said, rolling his eyes. “Now should we start making these cookies or not? I’m starving.”

Annabeth followed him to the batter and watched as he drenched it in blue food coloring, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, and found herself desperately wishing they had more time. There was a delicate, almost exquisite pain that came with the awareness that this couldn’t last, but watching Percy roll misshapen balls of blue cookie dough made it easier for her to ignore it. At least for a while.

[everythingshawnmendes]

“Are you… making cookies at 3:30 AM?” and Bucky Barnes being the biggest teddy bear when it comes to going to bed

                                                    or

Bucky and Y/N’s night routine, plus some late night snacking

tooth rotting fluff, smut, fem! receiving oral

Y/N loved scrolling through her phone before going to bed. All her life, after a busy day, nothing would distract her mind like mindlessly going through social media. When she became an Avenger, nothing changed. Whether she was exhausted from a strenuous day of training, plotting, investigating or completing a mission, she loved escaping from it all mentally to see what was going on online. It wasn’t the best, she knew, all the blue light and whatever, but in her line of work, high quality deep sleep ran kind of thin anyway. Tony used to tease her about it, calling her a teenager, but he shut up rather quickly after she retorted that at least she didn’t pull 3 all-nighters in a row just to work on some suit. The rest of the Avengers laughed with her that day, as he walked away muttering something similar to “some suit that saves all of your asses-” under his breath.

The rest of the team used their cell phones differently. Steve could barely count as having a cell phone, that old flip phone that had the numbers key pad where you had to press 1 three times just to type out the letter ‘c’. He answered the group chat, just always 3 hours late with 1 sentence at most. Bruce and Tony both used their phones a lot, mainly for backing up their research. Tony actually left the group chat twice, annoyed at the spam of stupid “childish” memes, but agreed to be back again when Peter sent a link to an article explaining how Iron Man is the strongest Avenger. The memes, they were mostly sent by Scott and Thor. They were at first almost always followed by a concise paragraph from Nat, who broke down the meme for Steve and Bucky to understand. They got the hang of them at one point.

Bucky didn’t love technology, let alone social media. Before Y/N was in his life, his night routine was quite simple: lay down and wait for sleep to come. After all that time being manipulated and used as the Winter Soldier, sleep had lost its peacefulness. He would just lie there with his eyes closed and drift in and out of consciousness.

It changed with Y/N however, for the much better. Bucky looked forward to going to sleep now, because that meant he got to hold Y/N in bed, which made him all soft and warm, until they both drifted into sleep. With her, he slept like a literal baby, holding his favourite blankie. Y/N never previously slept better either, having her own big Bucky shaped body pillow. 

Tonight was no different than any other. The two were cuddled together under their blanket, Y/N’s head propped on Bucky’s chest, where his shoulder met his chest. Luckily for him, the arm under her was his metal one, and could barely feel the weight of her head. The whole squad had gotten home from an intense mission, and the second they got back to the compound, Bucky dragged Y/N into the shower so they could get into bed as quickly as possible. After Y/N not being able to resist having her fun with Bucky under the warm water and sinking to her knees to wrap her lips around his pretty cock, the two scrambled into bed and were officially tuckered out.

Y/N sighed happily, scrolling through Twitter. Bucky’s chest was so built, and thick and so comfy to rest on. Bucky’s eyes were shut, his head heavy. His nose was buried in the back of Y/N’s neck and the sweet smell of her hair was lulling him to sleep. Her back was pressed against his chest, and his hand wrapped around her waist squeezed her close against him. Y/N hugged the arm that was around her with her free arm, stroking his forearm softly with his fingers absent-mindedly as she read things on her phone. Occasionally she’d laugh out loud at something and tell Bucky, who chuckled back, kissing her head. Y/N felt so relaxed, so in bliss and the reason was so simple. She was just so happy to be this in love with someone. She shifted slightly and moved to turn onto her other side. Bucky, half-asleep, whimpered softly and pouted, but curved his lips upwards in a smile when Y/N settled back into him to face him. She looped a leg with one of his and rested her hand with the phone on his chest. Bucky flexed his pec, bouncing Y/N’s hand on top of him, sending the two giggling softly. 

“Heyyy.” Y/N whined, nudging him.

She kept scrolling slowly on her phone, Bucky’s heartbeat slowing down to a soothing pace underneath her. One of his hands reached up into her hair, playing with the strands gently.

“Wow-“ Y/N snickered. “Bucky, did you know you have a large fanbase of thirsting women?” Her thumb paused at a tweet. She felt Bucky’s chin move on the top of her head and craned her neck up to look at him smiling. He felt her eyes on her and opened his halfway. “Listen; one writes: If Bucky Barnes shoots me, do NOT prosecute him. He caught me slipping, that’s on ME.” Y/N laughed heartily and Bucky just shook his head, burying his face in Y/N’s head, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Oh, oh - wait, I have a fanbase of my own too. “Y/N Y/L/N is so damn fine, if she were to ever same from something, I’d die of a heart attack afterwards”. HA.” Y/N nodded, laughing harder. Bucky perked up at this and frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together adorably. He held her tighter against him, a sound almost like a “hmmph” leaving his mouth.

“Aww baby.” Y/N simpered amid her laughs, looking up at her pouty boyfriend. She loaded him with kisses, one on his chin, his lower lip, the crook of his neck. Bucky found his smile again and opened his eyes a bit to lower his lips onto hers.  

Y/N settled back into his side and felt her eyelids go heavier and set her phone away. A couple minutes later, she had fallen asleep. Bucky sensed her breathing get heavier, kissed her head through her hair and drifted off to deeper sleep as well.

Y/N awoke some time later, squinting her eyes open and stretching slightly. She looked at the clock which indicated 3:00 and looked up and down to see Bucky softly sleeping, his arm still loosely around her. She closed her eyes and opened them again, thinking of why she might be unable to sleep. She didn’t have to go to the bathroom, she wasn’t too hot or cold… Cookies. She wanted cookies. A craving that was so random, yet she couldn’t seem to quite shake it off. Fuck it, she thought. She slithered out of Bucky’s hold and out of bed. Looking around the room, she put on some socks and quickly threw on one of Bucky’s hoodies to cover her naked body. It wasn’t likely for anyone else to be in the kitchen at this hour, but she still didn’t need to run the risk of someone seeing her butt naked. Plus, expert-skilled assassin and all, she was still clumsy as fuck, and she felt like being naked was some kind of dangerous being around an oven. As if she had not taken on 7 armed guards single-handedly with only one gun the day before…

Bucky stirred in his sleep, turning onto his side, his arm reaching out. The empty space beside him confused him, as he slowly rose from his slumber. Still heavily tired, he palmed the bed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. 

“Friday.” He grunted, his voice raspy with the sound of sleep coating the back of his throat. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Scanning. Miss Y/N is in the kitchen, sir.”

“M’kay, thank you.” He said, cracking his neck slightly. He fell back and closed his eyes again, the initial panic having subsided knowing Y/N was safe. He pulled the blankets to him and sighed. Clambering out of bed, he huffed and put on his pajama pants, setting off for the kitchen. He thought Y/N just needed some water, so he was not expecting the sight he entered upon.

There, in the middle of the kitchen, was Y/N spinning around, dancing to reach up to the counter for chocolate chips. Bucky recognized his hoodie on her slip up slightly, showing off most of her leg. His cheeks warmed. She turned around and spotted Bucky, nearly falling back out of fright.

“Jesus- baby, you scared me. Hi.” She walked towards him, cupping his cheek with one hand as she gave him a sweet kiss. Bucky joined his hands together at the small of her back, pouting down at her.

“You left me all alone in our room.” He said, pouting slightly, eyes squinting from the contrast of the open lights. Y/N’s gaze softened at his bright blue eyes, who were looking at her with equal tenderness.

“Aw, I’m sorry, you big softiee…” Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her and rocking softly from left to right. She relaxed in his frame as Bucky hugged her, his sleepy demeanor not yet fully shaken awake. Finally, he pulled his head back, scanning the room.

“Are you… making cookies at 3:30 AM?” He chuckled, running his hands up and down her back soothingly.

“Yeah! You wanna join me?” Y/N grinned at him, leading him to the counter. “I’m almost done.”

Bucky sat himself on the counter as he watched her tiptoe to get her big bowl of dough and set it down right beside him. He ripped two sheets of parchment paper to coat the trays.

“You’re so cute you know that, doll? Bucky eyed her. Y/N looked up at him and gave him a toothy grin and continued rolling out little balls of dough onto the baking sheet. “Especially in my sweater.” He reached his hand out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N stepped in between Bucky’s legs, leaning on his beefy thighs. “And I’m not wearing anything under it.” She looked up at him, eyes wide. Bucky groaned, pressing his forehead to hers as his face winced slightly. She was really testing him…

He took her face in his hands, pressing his lips down against hers. Her hands snaked up his legs to caress his abdomen, Bucky capturing her lips between his and kissing her hungrily. He licked her lips, sliding his tongue in her mouth to run it against hers, sucking her lip into his mouth as she parts them slightly out of breath. Catching it, she brought a hand to the back of his neck, lowering him onto her lips once more. Bucky pet her neck softly with his cool, metal hand before wrapping it around softly, not too strongly to stop her breathing but slightly to assert himself. Y/N gasped at the feeling, both cold and hot at the same time, Bucky flicking his tongue into her mouth, and grazed his teeth along the soft flesh of her bottom lip. Y/N swallowed heavily and pulled back.

“We have to preheat the oven.” Y/N panted slightly, going to the oven to turn it on. Bucky ran his hands through his hair and leaned back on the palms of his hands. A tent had formed in his loose cotton pants and his cock gave a twitch as he watched Y/N prance around the kitchen with her lips slightly redder and her bare legs on display. She was floating in his hoodie and she looked so impossibly soft, a part of him wanted to hold her, squish her, cuddle her, nuzzle his nose into her neck but the other, wanted to run his hands underneath the fabric, trail kisses along her divine legs and suck pretty bruises on her neck.

Y/N returned to the counter and caught a glance of Bucky. Smooth contoured abs moving along with his breathing, his manhood standing up straining against the fabric of his pants, which were loosely hanging off his hips. His blue eyes were soft to her, his eyelids hooded probably from what hour of the morning it was.

“You’re pretty.” Y/N hummed. Bucky scoffed, curling his finger motioning for her to ‘come here’.

“You’re pretty, doll.” He answered.

Y/N picked up the bowl and the wooden spoon and stood beside Bucky, who was still sat on top of the counter. It’s crazy how even if she was standing, he was still taller.

“Personally, I like the raw dough much better than the actual cookies. Hmm?” Y/N picked at the spoon, then giving it to Bucky. He tasted a piece and nodded. 

“I still think that I prefer the actual cookies.” He gave her the spoon back.

She shook her head. “You’re wrong.” She said, bringing the spoon to her mouth. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows slightly, feeling a tingle trickle down his spine. Y/N ran her tongue up the back of the spoon, locking her eyes with his, and hollowed her cheeks to eat the cookie dough. She continued to lick along the head of the spoon, cleaning it off of any remaining dough. Bucky gulped. She saw his pants tighten even more and laughed against the spoon, lapping up the sweet mixture.

“Baby girl…” He said huskily in a low voice, sending heat to Y/N’s core. She knew that pet name, and that tone of voice.

Y/N bit her lip, eyes becoming pleading as his blue ones stared into hers, while he licked his own lips. 

Ding!

Y/N huffed, as she turned around to see the oven was ready. She looked at Bucky, who smirked at her.

“The oven’s preheated, doll.”

“I know.” She exhaled frustrated, and took the trays, turning on her heel and walking to the oven.

She bent forward to slide the cookies in. At the sight of that, Bucky was a goner. He slid off the counter and lunged toward her. A second after Y/N had closed the oven door safely, no later, Bucky’s hands were on her. 

Y/N gasped, and then moaned at the feeling of his big hands sliding up the back of her thighs all the way up inside her hoodie, pressing at her lower back and coming to reach in front of to her bare stomach. He spun her to face him, Y/N’s hands placing themselves on his broad chest while his toyed with the bottom of his hoodie on her, palming her ass. They backed up, taking big hurried steps until Y/N felt herself hit the counter behind. Bucky’s hands slipped from her butt to the back of her thighs, lifting her and placing her down on the countertop slightly roughly. She immediately spread her legs apart, letting Bucky stand between them. He looked down and groaned, his hoodie ridden so high up it exposed all of her thighs, barely covering what’s in between. 

“Should we feel how wet you are, baby?” Bucky kissed behind Y/N’s ear, licking along the lower of her earlobe. Her soft whimpers contained in her throat resonated in his ears deliciously. “Hmm?”

“S-so wet. So wet. For you.” Y/N panted, feeling Bucky’s hands explore everywhere under her shirt, kneading her breasts. He was everywhere, but she desperately needed him lower.

Bucky took pride in her “for you” and slid his flesh hand down, dipping his middle finger in her heat. He himself moaned at how warm and wet she was, Y/N desperately whimpering, bucking her hips for more. He brought the one finger back up and before he could do anything, Y/N took his hand in hers and directed his finger into her own mouth, sucking harshly making her way from his knuckle to the pad of his finger. Bucky chuckled a low laugh, coming from his abdomen.

“So you’re not going to let me taste you, doll?”

Y/N shook her head repeatedly.

“Because-“ Bucky began lowering his head, large palms rubbing up and down her thighs. He kneeled on the floor. “I’ve been eyeing these delicious legs of yours ever since I saw you in only my hoodie.”

He turned his head to one side, pressing his lips into the plushy inside of Y/N’s thigh. 

Y/N opened her legs for him, begging him to just, dive in to her. She knew Bucky was ever the tease, and she knew he was going to make her work for it. But, he was so close, he was right there, all he needed to was to lean forward.

“Yeah, open up for me baby girl. Let me see how pretty you are.” Bucky licked his lips, his blue irises darkening slightly at the sight of your bare core. Y/N whimpered at the praise, arms reaching up into the hoodie to touch her own breasts. 

“Here, let me.” Bucky said, standing back up. Nothing turned him on more than to rid Y/N of his own hoodie, the larger loose fit revealing her beautiful body concealed underneath it. He pulled it above her head, throwing it on the ground. “Gorgeous.” His eyes trailed up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her.

“Bucky, please.” Y/N whined, the way he looked at her got her dripping wet and she was grinding against the counter to get any type of friction going against her needing center. His eyes flicked to her face.

“But you’re so pretty begging for me doll, don’t you know that?” He sunk back onto his knees, prying Y/N’s knees open once more. He moaned at the sight. There, right in front of him was her glistening cunt, the folds noticeably coated in her arousal, her scent seeping into his nostrils. He had never seen anything more delectable.

“Mhmphn.” Y/N grunted, her face contorted in frustration. “Baby.” Bucky’s deep blue eyes turned upwards to look at her. 

“Please.” She begged, nudging her thigh against Bucky’s cheek.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He leveled his mouth to her clit and stuck his tongue out, giving the sensitive button a hard, slow, long lick.

Y/N arched her back, throwing her head back at the feeling, breathing out. That initial lick was not followed by others, though, as the oven ding’ed once again to signal the cookies were ready.

“Fuck!” Bucky swore, licking his lips. “I’m going to go get those goddamn cookies and after that sweet doll, I’m going to eat that pussy of yours until you forget your own name.” He squeezed her thighs roughly, before standing up violently, turning the oven off and opening the oven door, grabbing the cookie trays one at a time with his metal hand and chucking them aside on the stovetop.

He returned to his spot on the ground, opened Y/N’s legs gently with his flesh hand (he wanted to make sure his metal one had cooled off, scared to burn her), locked eyes with her one last time and stuffed his face into her pussy. They both moaned, Bucky’s tongue running up her slit a couple times to lap up all the slickness and fully taste it. He gave her clit a quick kiss before sucking on it, taking it in between his lips. 

“Fuck, r-right there.” Y/N breathed out, finally feeling an ounce of her desire fulfilled. She brought both her hands to his luscious hair, running her fingers through it. She swiveled her hips, opening her legs as she maintained his head in between them with her hands.

He licked sloppily at her clit, drawing wet circles with his tongue as his entire face was engulfed in her, her wetness dripping and coating his chin. He sighed contently, closing his eyes as he ate her out, his own cock plumping at the feeling of her hips and legs trembling against his head.

“Oh, Bucky, oh-“ Y/N moaned, face scrunched in pleasure. The coil in her abdomen wound tighter, she was getting closer and she tugged on his locks of hair, pulling him closer against her. Bucky groaned into her cunt, sending her clenching her thighs around his head. He loved it. 

He loved having all he can smell, taste and think about Y/N’s pussy. The slight pain at the root of his hairs from being pulled by her spurred him on further, suckling, licking up at her clit just to swivel down to her hole, a mix of her arousal and his spit lapping at her folds. Suddenly, Y/N let go of his head, her hands flying in back of her onto the counter to support her, as her entire body arched backwards.

“I-I’m close baby, baby, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum - I’m gonna cum-“

Normally, Bucky would have said something filthier to send her over the edge, he liked hearing his name come out of her mouth, but he didn’t dare take his mouth off her. He maintained his pace, lapping against her clit.

“Mhmhmn, Bucky.” She pursed her lips together hard to not scream out. Bucky looked up at her, his girl, saying his name while he made her cum… Y/N caught a glimpse of his deep blue orbs staring up at her and let go, falling back onto her elbows as her orgasm ripped through her.

What a sight, a vision. Bucky’s eyes glued to her, as her head was thrown back, he trailed his eyes from her jaw, breasts, shaking arms and hips, to the legs on both sides of his head. He slowed down the pace of his tongue until she sat back up, bringing him back up to his feet with her hand in his hair.

“Taste yourself.” He whispered through hooded eyelids as he kissed her lips. Y/N giggled tiredly. Bucky turned around to grab a paper towel, wiping the bottom half of his face clean. He leaned against the counter opposite Y/N, grabbed a cookie and grinned at her, who just merely looked at him from on top while catching her breath. 

“Are they good?” She finally managed to ask.

“I’ve had better desserts to eat.” Bucky picked up his hoodie to throw it on Y/N’s shoulders, settling in between Y/N’s legs. He brought a cookie up to her mouth.

“Mhmmm they are good.” Y/N gave a light moan, chewing. “Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what sounds I make for you, just heard them.”

After cleaning up the counter, they set off to brush their teeth once again (Bucky insisted because “Cavities!”) and before they knew it, Y/N was settled comfortably back into his side, with her head on his chest.

Neither needed social media to fall asleep this time.

the mouth and eyes on him I’m——-

my first bucky fic!!! and first really nsfw!!! plz lemme know if u enjoyed it loves x

[today-we-will-survive]

The Purple Project

gif by @softjeon

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warning: none

Wordcount: 1.8K

Requested: anon

The door slams behind you, causing the others in the room to snap their heads up to look your way as you rush past in a blur of tears. You’re pretty sure you hear a few of them call your name but you ignore the voices, continuing into the kitchen even as you hear the front door open again.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungkook calls. “Please, just let me explain!”

You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear his lame excuse this time, even though whatever explanation he has is probably true. It seems with every rumor you hear online, there’s always a counter argument. And even if the rumors aren’t true—which deep down you know they aren’t—you’re getting so sick of this life. You love Jungkook with every fiber of your being. But this is…too much.

“Y/N!” he calls again and then he’s there in the doorway, hands on the frame to stop his forward trajectory.

You want to run, don’t want to face him but for some reason you chose the kitchen, which only has one way in or out so instead you slump onto the floor and try to curl yourself into as small of a ball as possible. If you can lock yourself away somehow, you won’t have to face the harsh reality of secretly dating an idol.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Jungkook,” you say, your voice muffled by your knees as you press your face into them.

“Please just let me explain.”

“I don’t want an explanation, I just want to be left alone,” you say. “Please.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond for several seconds and at first you think maybe he left silently but then you lift your head again and he’s still there. His eyes downcast, teeth working his bottom lip, until finally he looks at you again, letting out a shaky sigh and then disappearing back into the living room. You let your head fall back down onto your knees, exhaling heavily to try and calm yourself down again. To add to the sadness and anger of seeing the latest, false dating rumors involving your boyfriend, you now have the guilt of being the cause of that defeated look you just saw on his face. It’s hard for you but you can’t imagine how much worse this is for him. Seeing articles like that and knowing there’s nothing he can do to stop them or to keep them from happening. Ugh, you feel like a jerk.

“Y/N?”

You look up this time to see Namjoon standing in the doorway. Quickly, you swipe your hand under your nose. “Hi,” you crack eliciting a gentle smile from the leader and he steps toward you. You’re about to get up when he takes a seat right there on the floor in front of you.

“You know those rumors were false, right?” he asks. “Kookie would never do anything to hurt you like that. Not to mention the rest of us wouldn’t let him do something so stupid.”

“No I know,” you utter. “I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. I just wish the media would back off.”

“Unfortunately that’s how it is in this world,” he says. “And I don’t blame you for wanting out of it.”

“I love him though, Joonie,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper as you feel your throat beginning to tighten again.

“I know,” he says gently. “Maybe it’s time you take this relationship public then,” Namjoon says. “The other dating rumors will stop at least.”

You let out a pathetic laugh. “You think the onslaught will stop if this comes out? It’ll only get worse. My face will be out there for everyone to see. And what about Army? What about the backlash I’m going to get from them for stealing their precious maknae?”

A warm smile spreads across Namjoon’s lips, his dimples denting his cheeks and he reaches forward to run his hand over your hair fondly. At last it rests on your cheek. “I think you underestimate Army, Y/N,” he says. “They will love anyone that makes one of our members as happy as you make Jungkookie. True Army will accept you and root for you. Sure there are fake ones and sometimes, they’re the ones that yell the loudest.” You dip your head at this, the fear coming back like a punch to the gut. “But,” he continues and you lift your eyes again. “For every one person that has something negative to say, there are a thousand that will stand behind you and support you and fight for you. Not to mention, you have the seven of us to protect you.”

You sniff hard and smear your tears away from your face before looking back at the leader. He always seems to know how to talk you down. “Thanks, Joonie,” you finally say, your voice cracking and hoarse.

Namjoon gives a nod. “Of course, Y/N,” he says. “But don’t forget the person who loves you the most. Probably more than Army or any of the rest of us could put together.”

Ah right.

“I should go talk to him,” you whisper.

“Probably,” Namjoon says then stands up and holds a hand out to you. You take it and let the boy pull you to your feet. “I know it’s hard, this whole idol world, but you have an entire, literal army behind you, Y/N. And you have us, and you have Jungkookie.”

Instead of responding, you fall forward and wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing him as if he may disappear if you don’t hold on tight enough. “Thank you,” you say again, this time your words muffled by his shirt.

You feel a big hand press warmly to your back and his chest vibrates as he hums. “Now go talk to him. Don’t forget he’s hurting as much as you are.”

“Right,” you say and pull back again. “I’ll go do that then.”

The walk back out of the kitchen is hard, your footsteps heavy with the weight of knowing your boyfriend is feeling guilty for this whole thing that isn’t his fault. But with every step, you can feel the weight lifting, the sadness becoming determination. You can make this work. You’ll fight for this relationship with every fiber of your being. You deserve it. Jungkook deserves it.

When you get back into the living room, the other members seemed to have cleared out, leaving Jungkook alone sitting on the couch. His eyes are red but his mouth is spread wide into a smile, and you can’t help feeling suddenly confused when he gestures for you to come over.

“There’s something you need to see,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

This only confuses you more. In fact, by this point you’re honestly a little scared. “What’s going on?” you ask as you sit down beside him.

Jungkook turns his head to look at you. His lips are red, his lashes sticking together, eyes shining. He always looks so heartbreakingly beautiful when he’s been crying. “You have to see this, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice lower than normal. Then he holds his phone out so you can see the screen and starts playing a video.

It’s a live stream from a few nights ago. The night before their most recent concert. All seven of them are crowded around the camera, Jungkook in the middle.

“There’s something Jungkookie has been wanting to tell you all,” Namjoon says on the video. “but he’s been afraid of what your response will be.”

Comments stream down the side, all pleading with him to tell them his secret. That they love him no matter what. That they’ll support him no matter what.

“Why don’t you go ahead, Kookie?” Namjoon asks with a knowing smile.

Jungkook, on the video, looks down at his hands, his mouth curling into a shy smile from the sudden attention. “Well,” he starts. “I’m kind of, in love.”

Purple hearts flood the screen at the confession along with comments of all different languages in all caps and littered with exclamation points. His smile spreads wider at this outpouring of support and he shifts in his seat, sitting a bit taller now that the initial confession is out.

“I’ve been with her for a little while now and I know she’s scared of revealing who she is,” then his expression darkens for a split second. “And I don’t blame her.” But then he brightens again and smiles at the camera. “But I wanted to show her how much support she has and that she has nothing to be afraid of. Right Army?”

More comments pour in, every one expressing how much they already love you for making their boy happy. Then the video ends.

“Well, that’s a relief,” you say with a small laugh as you blink back more tears.

“It’s not over yet,” Jungkook says then scrolls to the next video and presses play.

It’s Jungkook’s view from up in the air at one of their concerts as he flies over the crowd during Euphoria. The amount of people at these arena concerts has always blown you away, but seeing it from his view is breathtaking. So many people, their eyes on him.

“Y/N, look,” he whispers from beside you.

His voice echoes through the speaker, then there’s a pause just before he hits the high note.

As if by magic, the blue tinged army bombs begin to change to purple, only a few at a time throughout random parts of the audience as if they’re no longer being controlled by the staff but manually by the ones holding them. Before long, the entire arena is filled with purple lights and you hear Jungkook laugh.

“What is this!?” his voice echoes through the speaker but he quickly recovers, continuing the song as he flies above the sea of purple. The video ends and you sit back.

“I don’t get it,” you whisper.

“I didn’t either,” Jungkook says softly but then opens his twitter app. “Until I saw this. Look at what’s trending.”

“What’s #ThePurpleProject?” you ask reading the hashtag partway down the list.

In answer, Jungkook clicks on it and suddenly the feed is flooded with tweets about the concert and the purple army bombs and Jungkook and…you? Well, not you specifically since no one knows who you are but tweet after tweet is expressing support for the two of you, referring to you as JK’s Euphoria. As Army’s euphoria.

“So those purple lights were in response to your announcement the night before,” you say as the pieces start falling into place.

“It’s a message, Y/N,” he says, beaming when you look up to meet his eyes. “Army did that for us. They did it for you.”

“Think they’d want to finally meet me?” you ask shyly, your eyes once again lowering to his screen to look at the tweets.

“I think they would.”

[thestudyfeels]

100 Days of Sweat

Welcome to the official admission post for the 100 days of sweat challenge! *plays the conquer theme song and does a booty pop* This is a pretty long post, but has everything you need to start, so read on!

READING TIME: 6 minutes.

OoOh? What's that?

Thanks for coming out of the cave! In short, it's a consistency challenge to turn working out into a habit.

You've basically got to move your body for a 100 days straight. No slacking, no backing out!

Most take on this challenge personally, but I felt accountability would be great for those beginning with exercising & those who can't seem to keep their streak (cough, me).

Sounds fun! How do I join? Do I need to do a booty pop too?

Booty pops are appreciated. But here's how!

1. First things first, decide whether you'll be joining via IG, Discord or staying on Tumblr.

2. If using IG, reply to this post with your handle or (alternative) if you'd like, join Discord instead! For that, click here to join the server!

(NOTE: Those who joined via the first post I created regarding this needn't reply again! I've already added you to the list.)

3. Lastly, boost this! Reblog, get your followers to join! Drag your friend or sibling in! (already dragged my bestie into this in case no one joined in lmao)

Important PSA: yO, ANYONE can join! All my beginners and winners, young teens and old pals, drarry fans and johnlock shippers, team cold water AND hot water (sparing y'all because I stan working out more), EVERYONE!   

Here's what I'll do: 

I'm creating an IG group for those interested in staying fully committed. (Pros include making friends! Or enemies, for a hundred whole days! Some of you might even get married together, I have high hopes because wedding cake is everything)

Sayani from @studign-stars will be the admin for Discord! You can hit her up for queries, if any. 

In short, there'll be 3 separate groups. One for those joining via Discord, one for those on the IG group, and a third for those staying on Tumblr.

If you wish to use any other platforms like Snapchat and Twitter, feel free! Also plug your progress on Tumblr too so we can hype each other on! (tag stuff with #100dos)

+ That said, I highly suggest joining either one of the groups, for accountability does wonders. It's now up to you, fellow warrior.

How to prep for this challenge:

OhO! There's a whole lot prepping to be slayed. To finish this challenge as smoothly as possible, here's a few steps. Make this easier for yo’ lazy bum.

1+ Firstly, grab a marker and scrap paper (when you on a student budget, cuz same) and write down numbers from 1 to 100. I did 1 to 30 to prevent myself from being overwhelmed, but do right them numbers to gain momentum.

2+ Take couple before photos. From the front, and the side. If you don't want to, take them anyway and store it in a folder you never open. Also measure your weight, and if you have a measuring tape, take other basic measurements of the chest, waist, arm etc.

3+ Coming to the main part! Pick your 'base’ routine. This is the primary workout you wanna do 2-3 times a week. It's the main course!

For beginners, I suggest choosing a 15 min full body workout. Do try it out before you start 100 days— make sure it's challenging enough.

For those who already move their bodies, pick a workout that aligns with your long-term goals. If you want toned legs, pick a leg day routine. If you want abs, focus on abs.

My base routine is the Beginner's Bodyweight Workout (BBW) from the NerdFitness website. I do 3 sets of the entire routine (takes around 25-30 mins) thrice a week.

So, do some research and pick a workout! Doesn't have to be an hour long at all, just make sure it's time-effective and challenges you.

4+ Find your cheat day workout.

Yikes, the wording is kinda incorrect, but anything for the clickbait.

This is the workout you do 2 days a week, and is the second most important workout. (This means: 3 + 2 = 5, you’ve now got five days planned!)

I do Alexis Ren’s ab routine (I hate it) twice a week because abs are my target zone. For you, it could be arms, thighs, butt, anything!

5+ Leave your last two days for simple moving.

It's up to you to decide what's going to be cooking in the remaining two days. For suggestions, you can pick a fun activity, say yoga, handstands, cartwheels, splits, any form of dancing like hip-hop, Zumba etc.

I'm trying to do a handstand this year and get my middle splits already (I fell off track so I still have quite a way to go) so I'll be stretching and doing hand flexibility exercises in the last 2 days.

Or you can just go for a jog or a power walk. Just keep the momentum going!

A quick recap:

To summarize, you're doing a major workout 3 times a week, a toning workout (mine is abs) twice a week and a fun activity in the last two days.

Also, mix this up. Your muscles need time to heal, and I strongly emphasize leaving the next day free for lighter activities after doing a major workout. Here's my routine, as an eg:

Do remember that this is just a STARTING POINT, because we don't want you to wake up everyday and be like “wut I do today.” It's now your mission to plan your workout routine. Consider taking more workload or reduce it as per your level (this is definitely a lot, try reducing if you're just beginning).

Also important: DETERMINE your workout routine NOW. I spent 2 years (only stopped like 3 months ago) doing YouTube videos haphazardly. This works, because you are working out after all, but it's a pretty lousy method if you want consistent results. Also makes you depend on motivation to workout (which has probability results equal to me marrying Tom Felton), whereas if you had a routine, you'll have to workout because it's in your schedule and you'd be a loser to lie to your schedule.

Is this a lot? It's a lot. I know.

If this is overwhelming you, don't back away darling. Face your fears. Here are some reasons to not back out—

The entire challenge is flexible: You don't have to follow that routine ^ if you don't want to. Starting out, you can do a major workout 2 times a week and fill the other 5 days with fun stuff. You can always change the routine later, 100 days is a long ass time.

The challenge fucks with your mindset and strengthens it: 100 days of continuous movement is CRAZY. Can you imagine how strong (mentally too!) we'll all be at the end? You'll have grown so much!

Working out will become a habit: I've been working out for 2 years now, and it has positively affected every single sphere of my life. Exercising is the #1 habit I suggest everyone build. Since science says it takes 66 days to build a habit, we're ON it.

You'll be really proud of yourself: I know I'll be. I'm literally going to hug y'all at the end of it, and sing jingles about how far you've come. 2019 will have been slayed.

I could go on and on, but this is it. Now's the moment. This is about doing something you're afraid of. Taking risks. Learning, falling, getting back up.

Thence, ladies, gents and non-binary pals, THIS is the 100 days of sweat challenge. You're cordially invited to it.

(We're dramatic, yes.)

🌻 !!! MAJOR PSA & DEADLINES:

The challenge itself begins on 10th April, 2019.

You'll be added to the IG group latest by 7th April.

Because I'm your mom, I'll add everyone in, tell you the details and everything. If you’ve got any questions, jump into my inbox now and get them answered.

That said, please remember that I won't take anyone in midway (no, not even if you buy me free tacos for a year). So join in now & spread the message! The more, the merrier! Bring beer too!

Thanks for joining in! This will be promising and hugely interesting (accountability can do wonders, but we'll see). I'll be waiting for you on the other side with my stuffed animals, cIaO fReNdOs!

— Nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ 💌

letting my taglist folks know (which you can join here!)

@doctorearlgray, @mintschlar, @procrastilate, @scienceandsarcasticdroids, @sxudying, @hannistudies, @vocative, @studign-stars, @ash-trological, @sweet-bean-study-queen, @chaoticstormthings, @lunetudes, @beingstudent, @beautiful-magicalbrain, @akydemics, @literery, @redvelvetstu-dies, @vivinotes, @jynsdesk, @moonshinestudies, @studying-in-chaos, @thelazyunistudent, @einstetic, @ram-the-blonde-bitch, @a-students-lifebuoy, @studahliless, @inspostudying, @the-diary-of-a-failure, @would-iwasshookethspeared, @coffeeandpies, @artsytourism, @gloomstudy, @scrolls-of-jupiter, @studytrivia, @ristudy, @isatriestostudy, @historicalbeez, @luvjoys, @indiaisstudying, @studyingunderwater, @dianeemay, @kemi-k, @londonotes, @froststudies, @pennyfynotes, @studiently, @midnightstudying, @unicorndoesstudies, @studyingundersun, @wingedprunepsychiclawyer, @tonystarkstudies, @delphinaaugery, @morganastudy, @studiies-psych, @sumastudies, @emrys-studies, @parleonstudies, @acataemic, @studylustre, @adelinestudiess, @sorcierstudies, @coffeeinfusedstudying, @pizza-and-studying, @the-third-me, @scrunchiestudies, @jemsjournals, @jas-study, @jabuticabablr, @khelmatic, @avastvdies + you, if you’re reading this!

[habibialkaysani]

okay. so. here's the deal. I've been a bit of a mess the last few weeks, mostly because of various things that have come up. in the style of the new group therapy sessions for cognitive behavioural therapy I've been going to I've realised that my worries are mostly of the hypothetical variety (i.e. I'm worrying about something that I don't know will happen or that I could do nothing about to stop worrying about it), but also that some are practical (as in I could do something to actively change things and then I would stop worrying) or they fall in the middle.

lately what's been bothering me is all the horrible pelvic pain I've had since the doc put me on the pill. the doc spoke to me when I told them about the increased pain and I'm going to see a gynaecologist this week about it. but I'm dreading a) the internal examination which I think I've mentioned before just sounds really daunting, b) the options presented to me if it is endometriosis, which are most likely laproscropic surgery given hormonal treatment didn't seem to work and c) all the fallout that would come from me having surgery for the first time in my life and the trials of recovery.

then there's also work which hasn't been great atm for various reasons. plus I also am worrying a lot about how impossible it feels to write anything right now. like I'm so blocked rn and it's driving me nuts because writing is the thing that grounds me during times like these. I say what I want to say via a character and I feel better. I can't do that anymore though.

and I've been finding that in lieu of that, I've just been scrolling mindlessly through tumblr, twitter and other social media, not really taking stuff in. even zombie giffing because there is literally nothing else that seems to be working for me.

all of that combined with the constant feeling that my uterus is gonna yeet itself out of my body bc of how fucking squirmy it gets down there - well, suffice it to say I've got a lot on my mind. and I need deal with that instead of engaging in what my therapist calls avoidance behaviours.

so I'm going to give it a go. I'm logging out for the time being and will be back in a week I hope.

see y'all on the other side :)

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

rainy days with seijoh third years

oikawa tooru

He’s the type of guy who invites you over knowing well that it’ll rain later in the day and go, “Oh no. Not a storm. I guess you’ll have to stay here longer.” He doesn’t even try to act as if he’s already had everything planned out and is insistent that you stay the night, even if the rain stops sooner than expected.

He likes the idea of turning off all the lights in his home. It’s dark and cozy, and he’ll even make a pillow fort with all the blankets he has in his home so that you can snuggle with him in comfort.

X-Files is an absolute must. The combination of you in his arms with aliens in the background is far too good to pass off, and while he has an episode playing in the background, he’ll be talking to you about the latest extraterrestrial news. If you take the time respond back with questions, even simple ones like asking about the names of planets, Oikawa will practically glow. It shows him that you’re interested in his nerding out or at the very least, paying attention to his rambling, and not many people can do that.

Kisses are also important. Every few seconds or so, he’ll tilt his head to kiss you lightly on the forehead or cheek. There’s something about being so close to you in such a dark setting that he finds intimate, and if he’s not careful, he’ll definitely fall asleep with an arm over your waist.

He’s not actually afraid of thunder, but whenever there is a loud rumble that shakes the entire building, he’ll pretend to be scared and ask for you to comfort him. This is secret code for Oikawa telling you that he wants to be the little spoon.

Even if you try to leave the fort to get a snack or use the bathroom, he follows you all the way until he can’t. You practically have to drag him wherever you go, because he really won’t let go of your waist.

When he sees that you’re getting a little sleepy, he’ll turn off the TV and take you to bed. If the thunder is too loud for you to fall asleep, he’ll press your head to his chest and hum offkey to help drown out the sounds. And if that doesn’t work, you best believe that you’ll be up all night talking to him about anything and everything.

iwaizumi hajime

He’s the literal epitome of responsibility, so once he hears the first drops of rain pitter-patter against the window, he’s going around the entire house to check if he’s prepared for a storm. If there’s laundry hanging out to dry, he has that taken back inside immediately, asking you to help but only if you’re willing. He’ll triple-check to see if all the windows are closed properly and if he has enough food in the fridge to last the day.

He cooks dinner with you for a multitude of reasons, telling you that it’s the healthier and more economic option that take-out is, but it’s secretly due to the fact that it’s a small taste of a domestic life with you. From the beginning where the two of you are doing simple ingredient prep and brainstorming what you could make from a limited array of resources to the end where you’re playfully splashing water at him while washing the dishes, Iwaizumi enjoys all of it.

Like Oikawa, there are times were he also nerds out, so when everything is said and done with dinner, he has you sit in his lap with two cups of warm tea set aside on the table. He’ll let you pick a book from his shelves, each one being about monsters or mythological creatures, and he’ll read it to you. He’s a lot more animated this way, going on and on about the origins and lore of his favorites while laughing at the ones that remind him of his teammates.

He’s also the early to bed early to rise type of guy, so once the clock hits 11 PM at the latest, he urges you to get ready for bed. If you whine a little bit, he’ll let you stay up for another few minutes, but the two of you are definitely cuddled under the sheets by 11:30. He’s guilty of having his own late nights or even all-nighters, but he won’t let that happen to you when he’s around. Anything less than eight hours of sleep is a failure on Iwaizumi’s part, and he will not let that happen.

He’s absolutely soft for goodnight kisses and will return them back tenfold. When he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep, he takes it as his opportunity to murmur something about how grateful he is to have you and how he’s the luckiest person in the entire world before closing his eyes himself. He’s definitely up first the next morning just watching your peaceful sleeping figure and thinking about how he wants to do this whole sleepover thing every day. Whether you choose to tease him or not is up to you, but he’ll definitely go beet-red if you do.

hanamaki takahiro

He’ll treat a rainy day in like any lazy day at home except with the added bonus that is you. The only down side is that he can’t really go out and buy sweets, so instead, he makes them at home with you. Hanamaki doesn’t really care all that much if they turn out well or not considering that he’s mostly there to tease you a little bit by putting dough or whipped cream on your face when you’re least expecting it. He may be quiet, but that doesn’t make him not a gremlin.

In fact, he prefers if the entire process is chaotic from start to finish so that he can tease you about about how awful the baked goods will turn out. Argue back that things will be okay, and he’ll be ten times more pessimistic. It’s only to make fun of you though. He’d eat anything you made for or with him, and no matter how charred your cookies come our or how much he wonders if he’ll get sent to the ER for consuming non-edible substances, he’ll find a way to choke them all down.

When the two of you are done with baking, it’s an absolute chore to get him to clean up with you. He’ll put up a tough front as you tug and shake at him to get off the couch, but he’s really just putting an act on since he finds it endearing when you’re being pussy and trying to order him around. He’d never leave you alone to clean up his messes, but he sure does work hard at making you believe that. 

He’s not much of a stickler in terms of eating, so take-out is his first pick when it comes to what to do for meals. He’s already cleaned up once and would prefer not to do it again, especially since he’s not that confident in cooking himself and would hate for you to do it alone. It’s just easier for Hanamaki to scroll through a menu with you and wait with you cuddling into his side for the delivery to arrive. 

Hanamaki will never instigate bad ideas, but he’ll never turn them down either, so if you ask him to stay up all night with you because you just can’t sleep with the thunder, he won’t say no. In fact, he’s the one who pulls you to bed just to scroll through Twitter or Instagram with him. He’ll comment once every few posts about how certain videos remind him of you, but he won’t elaborate on why. It’s left ambiguous enough for you to wonder if you’re being insulted, but he’ll clarify later that they were meant as compliments while kissing you all over.

matsukawa issei

Matsukawa’s the only one out of the four to suggest going outside during the rain. It’s not that he particularly likes it, but what he does enjoy is sharing an umbrella with you only to take it away from right over your head so that you get soaked. He does this all while grinning, even when you take the umbrella right out of his hands to splash him with water. It’s not hard to get back at him since he’s not trying very hard to resist.

It’s all part of his master plan to get you in the bathtub with him, and right when you two get back home, he immediately starts running a bath, mumbling something about how he doesn’t want you to catch a cold and that you should get warmed up right away. 

He doesn’t have fancy candles or soaps, but it’s still enjoyable, especially when he offers to help you wash your hair and scrub your back. You want to stay in the tub for a longer time, but Matsukawa hates pruning and drags you back out right when you’ve begun to melt in his arms. You definitely grumble about it, but it only makes him laugh.

He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s actually deathly afraid that you’ll get sick from his little scheme. Regardless of your hair length, he’ll motion you over so that he can dry your hair for you. He tells himself that it’s to ensure that you don’t catch a cold, but he also likes the feeling of his fingers slipping through your locks. He isn’t expecting you to return his favor, but if you do offer to dry his hair for him, he’s over the moon.

Like Hanamaki and Oikawa, Matsukawa isn’t opposed to all-nighters either. In his mind, it’s more bang for his buck since he can spend a longer time talking and joking around with you; however, unlike Hanamaki, he does instigate bad ideas.

It’s 1 AM, and in the middle of playing video games with you, he hears you mention something about wanting coffee. Suddenly, he’s all over his phone, searching for the nearest Starbucks to order from and making sure that there’s extra whipped cream on both of your drinks. The sugar gets him extra giddy. Sure, he’s been laughing all day because of you, but he’ll laugh even louder during the sugar rush.

And when the two of you crash on the floor in his living room? He does his best to make sure that you’re comfortable and positioned nicely against his body before dozing off himself.