#oh im probably quitting ao3

[mirrorscoveredwithflowers]

im rising from the dead for one last time just to say

I award the "most pathetic fandom on tumblr and ao3" award toooooooooooooo

*drumroll pls*

TLM!

(slander time)

ANYWAYS MOST OF YALL ARE OLDER TEENS/ADULTS RIGHT?

WHY ARE YOU ALL SO BAD AT ACTING LIKE IT THEN??

Like y'all can't handle a single bit of drama in a healthy way that an adult or older teen should be able to

I bet the mha fandom could do better

I know you all probably can't take me seriously because I'm 13 but like

I know people younger in this fandom and they deal with smaller controversies against them better then y'all can lmfao.

I've been meaning to say this for like a month

But

This fandom didn't change my life for the better

It ruined my life in a way

I have no self confidence because of 90% of you all

And don't even try and cancel me for this because I don't care.

I'm going to say the facts you all just can't admit for some gosh darn reason.

All of you who have become popular out of nowhere in the past few months...y'all don't seem very grateful.

This is my biggest pet peeve

I can't stand it when people come out of nowhere and just take the spotlight bc of some stupid sketch

And I know you can't control how popular you are

BUT CMON MAN? IVE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM FOR 2 YEARS, THE MOST IVE GOTTEN IS LIKE 18 NOTES AND 20 KUDOS AND YALL GET LIKE 100 AND YOU ARE LIKE

"awwwwwwww tyyy!1!1!1!1!1!1!1"

LIKE BESTIE TRY HARDER TO SOUND LIKE U ACTUALLY CARE

And you wanna know the worst bit??

There are people who get no notes and no kudos at all and that's because practically everyone here is so self centered and think their whole status in their fandom revolves around them and whatever popular people are 'friends' with them

Also most of the 'friendships' I've had here were literally the worst decision I've made- like I think people care about me then they just move on bc I'm "not well known" is that my fault???

I just wanted friends who liked the same movie as me

I've got that but, it was way harder then it should've been.

Youre probably laughing cause nobody here takes me seriously

And you can say im selfish for saying all these things about my 'friends' but it dosent apply to everyone. There are some nice people here, but not enough

Just...tlm fandom, you're full of adults and "mature" teens, please, start acting like it.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ epilogue

note: im kinda sad to say, but this will be the final part of this series! im so so grateful for all the love and support for it, this was honestly so fun to write! i hope everyone enjoys and have a wonderful day/night!!!!<3<3<3

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n

reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: your night in date with simon :)

warnings: domesticity, so much fluff, soap and gaz are wingmen again, tiny bit of light angst

ao3

【prev】

of all the things in this world that could be considered intimidating, flowers were the last thing simon would put on that list; but the brightly coloured flora seemed to have a paralysing effect on him as he stands in the tiny flower shop.

with a quiet, defeated groan to himself, he dials johnny's number and presses his phone to his ear.

"what flowers am i supposed to buy?" he blurts no sooner than soap picks up, not even bothering to greet him in his haste.

"hello to you too?" johnny mumbles, his confusion evident. a moment passes before he registers what simon asked, "oh! wait," he laughs, his voice getting further away as he lowers his phone to call out, "gaz, get out here! lt.'s buyin' sting flowers!"

simon considers hanging up then and there, but he's severely out of his depth and unfortunately, soap and gaz are his only hope.

"oh i see, he needs an expert opinion, does he?" kyle's teasing gets louder as he approaches soap, and he can hear the smile in both the sergeants' voices.

really, simon should've known they wouldn't let him off easy.

"christ alive…" he keeps his voice as low as possible, pinching the bridge of his nose in the corner of the small shop. "just help me, you pillock." the cashier has been staring at him since he walked in, and honestly, he doesn't blame them; a giant man in a mask isn't exactly the regular clientele for a florist.

"uh, probably their favourite?" soap suggests, the sound of gaz's muffled chuckling just about audible in the background.

"they don't have 'em." simon replies, his eyes darting over the vibrant display one last time in the hopes that the answer would somehow appear.

"nah, you want roses, mate." gaz interjects, and he hears soap make an agreeing noise.

simon hums. "aren't they too… cliché?" he asks, stepping over to the large display of rose bouquets. it's the classic choice, he's aware of that much, but whether or not you'd prefer something more unique was weighing on his mind. this was something he never expected to have to worry about.

"no! they're romantic," gaz insists, his amusement still very evident in his voice, "trust me mate, sting'll love them."

simon contemplates his point for a moment, staring at the deep red petals and trying to imagine the look on your face if he gave them to you. you'd been happy with a handful of squashed flowers he'd stolen from the flowerbeds on base, so he doubted you'd turn your nose up at them. it doesn't take him long to make a decision.

"alright, cheers." he mutters, grabbing a lively looking bouquet of a dozen from the display and making his way over to the cashier – who was quickly trying to pretend they hadn't been staring.

"you'll need to give us a debrief–" soap begins, but he's cut off by simon hanging up and shoving his phone back in his pocket. he gets the feeling he won't be hearing the end of this for quite some time.

✹✹✹

it's only when he's standing outside the door to your room that the nerves finally start to set in. he can't help but feel like an idiot, fidgeting on the spot about to knock on your door like a lovestruck teenager, almost crushing the stems of the roses with his iron grip.

he knocks twice, before he has the chance to change his mind and back out. not even a second later, you're pulling the door open and regarding him with that warm look that has his palms sweating.

you're wearing casual clothes, and so is he, as per the agreement you made to keep this 'date' simple. it doesn't matter what you're wearing though; he's seen you covered head to toe in blood, sweat, mud, and whatever else, and you still manage to be utterly breathtaking in every way.

with a nervous cough, simon holds out the rose bouquet to you, hoping you don't notice the way his hands are shaking.

"wha…" you blink in surprise at the flowers, taking them from him and admiring them with a tiny smile. "you bought these, right? didn't just rip 'em out of someone's garden?" you raise a teasing eyebrow at him, your smile turning more playful.

"yes, i bought them." he grumbles lightheartedly, a smile of his own forming under his balaclava. the way you effortlessly diffuse the tension has his anxieties melting away.

"thank you." you breathe, softly caressing the vermillion petals. "they're lovely, i love them."

simon let's out a quiet sigh of relief at your affirmation. "good; cost me a tenner, they did."

the laugh you let out is like music to his ears. "well, i'm sorry to bankrupt you." you grin, turning back into your room and carefully putting the bouquet in the vase on the mantle. after making sure the arrangement looks nice, you come to stand in front of him again.

simon's not sure how to continue, the nerves from earlier resurfacing as the conversation fades. the way you're watching him expectantly, he feels the urge to take you by the hand – and as if you read his his mind, you hold it out for him. he places his hand in yours, squeezing gently and leading you the short distance to the kitchen.

he'd set the table earlier, having found an only slightly discoloured tablecloth buried in the back of the cupboards. it's a little sad, but it was the best he could come up with.

"wow," you tease, the same playful smile as before on your lips as you meet his eyes, "so fancy."

he snorts, ushering you over to your chair and pulling out for you. "only the best for your majesty." he preens at your happiness when you laugh again, glad for the mask covering what he's sure is an obvious blush.

he occupies himself by grabbing the two plates he'd finished preparing a minute ago, just before he'd met you at your door.

"i made spag bol." simon mutters as he sets them down on the table. he keeps an eye on your expression as he takes his seat opposite you, anticipation of whatever response you may have.

"fine by me," you say, an easy smile lifting your features. "it's almost the perfect candlelit dinner, all we're missing is the candle."

simon blinks. "you don't like candles." he replies, a hint of confusion in his gaze when he meets your eye.

"no," you smile fondly, looking down at your plate. "i don't."

a comfortable silence falls over the room as you both start to eat. the warmth and normality of it all makes simon’s heart swell with affection. he's happy, content, being here with you, even doing something as monotonous as eating dinner. you make it worth enjoying.

"how is it?" he asks once you've both finished, once again waiting apprehensively for your reaction.

"it's great," you give him a lopsided smile, resting your chin on your hand as you look at him. "thanks for cooking."

simon quirks an eyebrow at you. "you don't have to lie." he mutters, feeling the tips of his ears burn under your intense gaze.

"okay, well, don't quit your day job." you chuckle, standing up and making your way over to the sink with your plate in your hands.

he huffs a small laugh, and joins you at the sink with his own plate. "you're crushin' my dreams here."

"sorry, chef." you grin and gesture to the washing up in the sink. "you wash, i'll dry?"

"if your majesty insists."

you turn on the radio for some quiet background noise, and the two of you start cleaning up in tandem. it's nice, how you can work together so seamlessly with no need for words. he's struck again by the thought that if he were alone this would be a chore, but with you beside him, he finds such a tedious job surprisingly pleasant.

simon hands the last dish to you, and as you take it your fingers brush against his hand. the way he flinches away from your touch is unconscious, and when he looks over to you he expects you to pity him, or be offended by his action – but your face holds neither of those things.

you're just drying the dish he handed you, the same content expression on your face that had been there all night, as if you didn't even notice.

"sorry." he mumbles, his gaze falling from your face to your hands as you work.

simon loves you. he shouldn't be afraid of your touch. he wants to touch you, and for you to touch him. he doesn't know why he reacted like that.

"don't be." you utter, soft and compassionate, and his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. for the third time that night, he's hit full force with how wonderful you are.

there's no judgement, no probing questions, nothing. you understood him, even though you had no idea why he acts this way.

you turn away, your back to him as you store the dishes in the cabinets. you hadn't been looking at him before, but now he was sure you couldn't see him, he feels his throat constrict with the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.

simon takes your free hand and you pause, still facing away as you wait for his next move.

he takes a small step closer, minimising the space between you, and rests his forehead against the back of your head. with his eyes screwed shut, he takes a deep breath and inhales the familiar scent of you. his grip on your hand tightens slightly.

you lean back into him, a quiet sigh escaping you as you squeeze his hand in return. neither of you say a word, but you don't have to. he feels how you love him in the way you never expect more from him than he can give.

it's the most peace he's felt in years.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness ,

@madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology

[chit2luvu]

Lovers' Entanglement

Pairings: Dom!Rayne Ames X Reader

A/N: This is my first smut fic, im not sure what Im doing but my brain produced and here I present. I also published this in ao3 but i didnt rlly get any interactions hence why im here pls dont flop :< Tags: mentions of cunnilingus, nipple play, p in v, afab reader, hickeys

It’s an ordinary day for Rayne and Y/N.

Well, not so much since Y/N has been practically bawling her eyes out because he was going to graduate.

In the morning, during the ceremony, and after the ceremony.

She clung onto him at every chance. More so than ever. Her tears staining on the taller boy’s graduation gown. It was quite a sight to see.

“Y/N…” He mumbled, patting her back as she hugged him tight. Rayne did indeed love her, he was sad to part with her but it’s not like their love would disappear with the lower frequency of their visits.

The most embarrassing part was when Principal Wahlberg came over to tease the two.

“My, my if it isn’t the power couple of our school. Congratulations on becoming a full fledged Divine Visionary at the Magic Bureau, Rayne. As for your devastated girlfriend…” He trailed off, cheekily looking at the two.

“I-I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly, it’s just that I’m not ready to not see him everyday anymore Principal Wahlberg…” the younger girl said through tears.

“It’s quite alright… Hahaha, the sweetness of first love in the air... Oh to feel it again at my age. Take care of each other, you two. And congratulations on graduating Max Land, I hope to see your achievements in the future here on out.”

Rayne nodded in approvement.

“Thank you, Principal Wahlberg, I am honored.” Max politely replied, with a small bow.

“This is it. I probably won’t see them again until summer break or whatever.” Y/N sadly thought, her tears still uncontrollably flowing down.

As the principal left, the first years joined the trio to congratulate them. Finn was the first one to suggest a commemorative group photo.

Rayne pulled away from her and pinched her cheeks to try and get some sense into her .“Y/n, we’re going to take pictures now so stop crying okay? For me?” He pleaded, wiping her tears away with his sleeve.

“Eep… Not fair… you… you’re gonna make me cry more,” she sobbed trying her best to keep her emotions in check as she looked up at Rayne pitifully.

Suddenly, he kissed her wet lips to hopefully stop her from crying. And it worked like a charm. Even after the kiss, y/n continued to stare at Rayne with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, the aftertaste of their sweet kiss lingering on her lips. The group went silent after witnessing their blatant display of affection.

“Nooooo! Why?! Why do all the good looking guys snag all the girls?!?!” Dot cried out as usual with murderous intent.

“Please refrain from making love in the eyes of an innocent child,” Lance commented as he clutched his necklace.

“Omg!! Y/n!! Ahhhh~~ Mash, did you see that? That could be us!!” Lemon fangirled while aggressively hitting Mash’s back to make her point.

“Uhm…” the muscle head said with disbelief.

“N-Nii–chan?!” Finn screeched as he hid his eyes behind his hands. He had most definitely never seen such a side of his older brother.

“Rayne you daring man!!” Max exclaimed, going in between the couple and hitting their backs to dissipate the tension, finally putting some distance between the two. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s take a picture!”

The students huddled together, performing various poses as they took many pictures.

One heart in the middle formed by Rayne and Y/N while Lemon, Mash and Lance formed one on the left and Dot, Finn and Max formed another on the right.

Then, freestyle poses.

They all put up a thumbs up for one.

And a peace sign for another.

And a heart sign for the last.

“Wow! These came out good!” the brunette said, scanning the photos happily. “Can’t forget to take a trio one too!”

So Rayne, Max and Y/N took another photo.

Then another photo with just Rayne and Max.

“And now, to commemorate the cringiest but slayest power couple of our school, Rayne and Y/N!” Lemon cheered happily for the two, holding out her wand. “3…2…1… Smile!”

Another utter shock.

The photo captured Rayne kissing Y/N on the cheek

“Oi! She said smile, not kiss!” Dot complained, about to jump out into action to stop them from further PDA but Lance kept him in check with his graviole.

“Well, you probably don’t know the feeling of having the love of your life desperately cling onto you just because you guys won’t be seeing each other everyday since you don’t have a girlfriend huh?” Rayne retorted the first year with a fierce look, as he held a blushing Y/N by her waist.

There were just one too many surprises from him. The first years were in absolute disbelief at their senior’s soft attitude towards his girlfriend. The ones who found it hardest to take this in were Finn and Dot.

After the ceremony, the group disbanded, each going back their own way. By tomorrow, most of the graduates would be gone, including Rayne which the Y/N couldn’t handle.

She returned to Rayne’s dorm, helping him pack up. The once minimalist room becomes an empty Adler room. Even his rabbit bedsheet was cleared with the rest of his rabbit related merch.

“Rayne…” Y/N started, her thoughts unclear of this whole situation. Only her fervent emotions screamed, telling her not to let go of her boyfriend at all costs.

“Yes?” He calmly replied, sitting down beside her on the bed.

“I will really really really miss you a lot.”

“I know dear,” he said, sliding his hand on top of hers as he sincerely looked at her with soft eyes.

“Ray-ayneeee” she said, plunging her body on top of Rayne’s onto the bed. “I might start crying again… sorry,” she mumbled as she lifted her head up from his chest.

“Bad girl,” he whispered into her ear while he brushed back the strand of hair. Those two words make her whole body feel all tingly in a weird way. “I don’t want our last memory in a long while to be you waving at me with tears during our send off, like as if you’re sending your husband off to war.” he honestly said, still keeping his hand on her head.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red from his comment. Rayne had always been the type of boyfriend that cared for his girlfriend by actions, not words. When she had her period, he would always bring chocolates and a heat pack to her dorm and throughout the day, he would check on her wellbeing multiple times. Even on normal days, when they talked during recess and lunch or after school hours, he was thoughtful to bring her something that reminded him of her from time to time. He did what he felt was suitable and even let out his true self. True self as in saying whatever he wanted. Even if it meant the lines he was saying sounded like some confession from a third rate romance novel.

“I guess I won’t cry anymore…” she pouted, her gaze averting away from his as she went back to nuzzling his chest.

There it was again.

That warm fluttery feeling that arises in their hearts at times like these.

But other than wanting to hold each other tight and never letting go, Rayne found himself having a new profound desire. If he were to possibly switch their positions, holding Y/N down on his bed while he whispered sweet nothings into her ears, would she like it? If he were to maybe pull down her collar and mark her neck for everyone to see would it be unfair of him? If only he could say for sure to continue to act on his instincts. After all, it was hard to stay calm with his lover’s breasts pressed up against his chest, her whole body looking as if she was being served on a golden platter ready to be ravished him. He really wanted to devour her right there and then.

“Rayne?” Y/N shyly questioned. She had long noticed his body’s reaction, unsure of what would be the best next course of action for the two.

...

“Sorry, I’ll- I’ll go to the bathroom for a bit.” Rayne enunciated, gently pushing Y/N off to the side and getting up so as not to worsen the awkwardness of the conversation.

But when her soft hand stopped him in his tracks, something inside of him just snapped.

“Y/N, there’s no saying what could happen if you don’t let go of your hand right now.” Rayne spoke as he turned around, his manner of speech getting a little shaky.

“I-I-I know! Well ummm I just thought that since we won’t be seeing each other in a long while… I… I want to help you since you're always by my side…”

He turned, his amber eyes meeting her e/c ones. He hugged her, bringing her face to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Y/N, you know how much I love you right? I promise nothing will change between us. You don’t owe me anything, love. I can wait until you’re ready.”

His words were always so reassuring, always laced with layers of honey, always warm and gentle. But she’s not doing it just to make Rayne happy, if it was with him, Y/N would gladly give her everything, in this case was her body.

“Rayne… I love you too, which is why I want to do it with you, if it’s with you I-”

Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, Rayne was already pinning her down on his bed. He impatiently pushed his lips against hers, their tongues entwining, leaving each other breathless as he pulled away.

“Sorry, I guess I got carried away there.”

He panted, their breaths shaky from the intense kiss. Still, his lips came close to her ear, letting out a husky voice.

“Hey, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, just say my full name. Otherwise, you best believe I’m not stopping until I leave tomorrow. I’m going to make it known to the whole world that you are my woman, no one can take you away from me. You’re mine, only mine. Got that? ”

Her whole face immediately turned into a tomato without any spell. He really was serious about her. He sat up on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening up his tie to reveal his toned body. Sure, Rayne was a magic user but he still kept fit to increase his stamina, which explained his six pack.

“You like it that much? C’mon, feel it– the only one stopping you is yourself.”

He smirked, enjoying that flustered look on his partner who was inevitably his to be taken. He leaned into Y/N, looking up to meet her longing eyes, that anticipation and excitement. It made Rayne so unbelievably happy that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He unbuttoned Y/N’s blouse, pulling her bra up in one swift motion as his large hands got to work; cupping her delicate mounds, licking and sucking on her perky nipples, even twisting and pulling, doing whatever he pleased as an Y/N suffered under his control, her moans spilling throughout the empty room.

“Rayne, that's… that’s embarrassing, why are you o-only focusing there…?”

“Hmm I can’t? It’s just that they look so beautiful, baby”

“Nghh that’s not fair”

“Sounds like you’re asking me to pay attention to some other parts too, huh?”

His hand slowly glided down her bare stomach, making his touch even more tingly on her body. Rayne undid her skirt and tossed it aside. Without sparing any time, he touched her wet clit that was practically soaking through her underwear.

“Amazing, you’re already this soaking wet for me when all I did was play with your nipples” He commented, pulling her panties aside and sliding his hand up and down on her swollen pussy.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, he pressed his lips up against her opening, licking her juices, even sucking her clit from time to time before inserting his tongue inside.

“Rayne why–! That place… It’s dirty…” Y/N could only say, before her voice was quickly transformed into pleasure again, the heat of both teens rising. “Hnngh.. Rayne I-I feel weird! A-ah! I think… I think I’m coming…! Mhmmm!” She said, pressing her mouth against her hand to hide her humiliating noises.

The older male pulled back, licking the liquid on his lips clean when he suddenly inserted his two fingers, pressing up against here and there until-

“A-aah!”

Y/n moaned loudly, unable to hide the fact that he had found her soft spot.

“So that’s where you’re weak? Duly noted.” He said, pressing his fingers up against it even more, receiving another moan from y/n. “I want to put it in so bad… y/n please I-” He huffed, his hot breath landing right on the crook of her neck.

“W-wait what about protection?!”

…

None of them had anticipated this moment so they had nothing on them.

“I think Max has some... ” he paused, "I'll be back in a jiffy, love" he muttered, leaving behind a small kiss on her cheek. Before he left, covered Y/N with a blanket and took his robe and left.

Y/n stayed huddled up in the blanket, trying to process what was actually happening. Was it too fast? I mean, they've been dating for like a year and a half so it should be fine right? Plus, it's Rayne. Yes, Rayne Ames. Sudden images of Rayne smiling ever so slightly whenever he met her appeared. That's right, he's the man she fell in love with. They both wanted this, it felt just right with him.

A few minutes later, Rayne had returned with the item in hand. He took off his robe once more and looked at her hungrily. "Are you ready darling?" he smirked, lifting the covers, trailing his rough hands along her leg up to her thighs as he got on top.

It’s not fair how he looks at Y/N with those eyes. How could she possibly push him away in this heat of the moment? She bit her lips in both fear and excitement, her eyes carefully following his every move.

He unbuckled his belt, pulling down his zip to reveal a huge bulge under his boxers. Scary. What was even scarier was when he took off all his undergarments, revealing a monster- no, a huge veiny cock. Y/N immediately yelped in shock, in awe of seeing something so… sinful. Yet, the excitement and pleasure that came along with it was as anticipated.

“Will it even fit…” she nervously questioned, finding it hard to believe that it’s her beloved boyfriend’s dick.

“We’ll make it work. I swear to be gentle, my love. I want us to enjoy this together.”

As soon as he slid on the condom, without any sense of hesitation, all Y/N felt was the warmth lining up her entrance before going all the way inside. That sense of fulfilment shared between the two was unfathomable. Like finally being one complete being, Rayne’s hot member filled her up.

“Your insides are wrapping around me so tightly bunny, how am I supposed to move like this huh? You tell me”

Unable to handle the dirty talk and sudden pet name, she averted her gaze from his in embarrassment. But that wasn’t going to stop him from teasing her further. He cupped her cheeks and made her face his way.

“Tell me how much you want it bunny, because no way we’re going to stop now. Not when I’ve got you right under my thumb.”

“P-please, Rayne, I need you, I need you t-thrusting inside of me… You… Only you can make me feel so incredibly happy and-”

“Well said dear, obedient bunnies get their reward don’t they? Now take it like a good girl for me, Y/N.”

Oh boy, she was in for a ride. The moment Rayne held her hands tenderly while leaning in, she should’ve braced herself. The moment he started moving– those shallow thrusts quickly turned into deep ones.

“Rayne…! Rayne…! Rayne…!”

“Say how good I feel inside you. How am I supposed to know if my baby girl likes it otherwise?”

“Yes…! Mmm! I love it! I love you! R-Rayne… ahhh… kiss please…”

“So needy for daddy hmm~ Don’t worry I’ll spoil you lots”

Those intense thrusts followed by breathless kisses.

Y/N was definitely not going to last until tomorrow.

Night has definitely fallen, but what time was it exactly? Who knows? All the two love birds know is that they’ve fulfilled their wildest desires; and that they’re right where they want to be in life. That feeling of content, reinforced by the way Rayne continues to wrap his arm around Y/N’s bare waist under the bed sheets.

“Was I… too rough?” the concerned male inquired.

“Kind of, my back is sore! Hmph!” she pouted, turning her head away for dramatic effect.

Rayne rubbed her cheeks playfully, trying to console the girl as he entertained her childish behaviour.

“C’mon bunny, don’t be like that~”

…

“Well, do you want to get washed up together? I think we’re both feeling pretty sticky after that endeavour, hmm?”

“Yeah, that does sound like a plan”

Without any warning, Rayne got up and picked Y/N up in one fell swoop, putting her over his shoulder.

“W-wait whaaa?! Put me down!” she demanded, hitting his back with her fists while her legs kicked the air.

“I’m taking responsibility for my actions so stay still my love”

He had forcefully picked her up to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

“We already went all the way, there’s no need to be shy showering-”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I still can’t wrap my head around what had just happened.”

“Well, we made love. It’s as simple as that, my beloved y/n,” he said in a matter of fact tone, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently.

Although they were done for the most part, Rayne couldn’t help but stare in awe at his lover. He had the love of his life, y/n, wrapped around his finger. She was right in front of him, ever so vulnerable as the marks he had left on her were clear as day. Her red, puffy nipples were so adorable, he just wanted to do it all over again.

Like as if Y/N read his mind, she panickedly declared, “You can’t anymore, I forbid!”

“Hmph fine fine” he gave in, not wanting to push her too hard.

The warmth of the water seemed to reflect the content of the two. It was as if they were already living together, in their own little humble abode, where the two did as they wished. Y/N drew soap bubble art on his chest, silly, cute doodles. Rayne, as promised, helped clean her up and they both had a nice, long, much needed shower.

“All done,” Rayne said, as he finally finished drying her hair with the towel.

“Thanks, babe,” she smiled cheerily, feeling very satisfied with the extra amount of attention she was getting.

“I’m merely giving you all the love you deserve, bunny” he simply said, taking the ends of her soft hair, kissing it tenderly, receiving another blush from Y/N.

“It’s illegal to be this smooth,” she mumbled, turning her head away from Rayne.

Her comment resulted in Rayne's soft laughter. That's right, this was the special dynamic they had. They were right where they wanted to be.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-week Day 6 - Dizzy / Drunken Concussion confessions

i'm challenging myself to keep each of these at 660 words; see day one for more of an explanation!

“C’mon guys, one of you’s gotta wanna ride this with me?” The others blink up at him, around at each other, “Seriously? No one?” 

“I’ll ride with you, Ed–”

“Oh no you don’t,” Robin interrupts, shutting down Steve’s very good idea about riding the Zipper with him.

“C’mon Birdie, let a man live! The fair only comes around once a year.”

“And someone only has one brain, one that’s been bruised one too many times already.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” he says, waving her off, “So who’s goin’?”

It’s actually Will that steps up to go with him, after Dustin’s enthusiasm for going is shot down by Steve’s “Hell no, Henderson, you’re breakable enough as it is already.”

He and Will climb into their already swinging little pod and sit down, strapping the well-worn buckles around them, “Y’ready for this, Baby Byers?”

“Uh.. Sure, Eddie, Ready!”

“Don’t be nervous little man, carnival rides are always safe.”

And fun. The Zipper’s always been his favorite at the carnival, can’t get the swoopy guts like this on just any ride.

Even Will’s having fun, no matter the apprehensive look he had when they got on.

“Okay, Baby Byers, this’s us,” he says when he feels their buggy do it’s final swoop into the loading area. He unbuckles his seatbelt, goes to stand, and gets a faceful of metal for his efforts.

The next thing he’s aware of is a concerned voice calling his name. 

“Eddie? Eddie! You okay?”

“Steve?” his eyes find the both of him rushing forward, “Stevie! Darling!”

“He was fine until the very end,” Eddie hears Will explaining from underwater, “He unbuckled just a second too soon and got thrown into the bars.”

Steve does his disappointed tsk at someone, “Ooh, you’re in trouble now.” he says to whatever unfortunate soul is on the receiving end. He can’t quite parse out who it is, probably whichever one of them got hurt on the Zipper.

“You’re the one who got hurt, Doofus.”

“He’s not Doofus, Birdie, he’s Dingus. Always getting himself dinged up.” She must be talking about Steve.. Wait.. “Stevie got hurt? Who hurt him?!” Eddie wheels around to look for the bastard who hurt his Stevie, only getting a swirl of color and a supporting arm to the chest for his troubles.

“Okay, big guy, let’s get you looked at before you do or say something stupid.” Steve says, pulling him up. “I’ll take him to the medical tent, he probably has a concussion.”

“You’re a concussion,” Eddie says automatically

“I’ve had a good couple, yeah.”

Eddie lets Steve lead him wherever it is he wants to go (“The medical tent, Eds, I’ve told you that already.”) and is soon laid back on a creaky examination bench.

“He’s gott’n a percussion, doc.” Eddie patiently explains to the volunteer nurse, “You gotta check ‘im out, he’s got an ass that never quits.”

“Never quits what, Mr. Munson?”

He’s not quite sure, actually. “Uh.. bein’ an ass.”

Someone’s doing a bad job at hiding their laughter. “Gotcha, I’ll make sure to take a look.”

“No, wait! You can’t! That ass is mine, sister.”

The nurse giggles again, “I’m sure it is, Mr. Munson.”

“Yeah you better leave, hussy–”

“Eddie!”

Oh no, Steve’s mad at him, “What?”

“You can’t call people that, especially not the ones trying to fix your head.”

“Hey, my head is great! Get compy– coplay– compli— I’m great at head.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Eddie can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and makes a point to find it. 

It’s there beside him, surrounded by the most beautiful blush. “I love you, Stevie.”

The smile disappears, and that’s not what he wants to happen at all. He can feel his eyes start to burn with tears. “Eddie? Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“I made your smile go away.”

“No– Hey, it’s okay, I was just surprised; You’ll see it again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” The smile is back in his voice.

and, say it with me folks, they aren't even dating!!

if anyone doesn't know, this one on the left is the zipper

on AO3 here!

[joshusten]

honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer. 

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement. 

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them. 

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm. 

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it. 

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better. 

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?” 

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?” 

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–” 

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest. 

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story. 

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep. 

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!” 

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do. 

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead. 

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch. 

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of. 

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck. 

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core. 

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!” 

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus!  “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one." 

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy." 

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

[rockingrobin69]

First things First

“Not this again,” Harry murmured, with the eyeroll and the tragic sigh and the telling quiver in the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” Draco grinned.

“You know I hate it when you—” gasped when Draco took his hand, pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. “Malfoy.”

Draco batted his eyelashes. He’d heard from a very credible source they were devilishly long, and awfully convincing. “What? Am I not allowed to court my partner?”

“Allowed isn’t really the issue. We’ve been married for three years, arsehole. There’s no need to court me.” Still, with a slightly-trembling hand, he took the flower. “Where’s this from, then.”

Grin widening: “A village near Halifax. Got rid of the nastiest case of Knottivites you’d ever seen, the poor lamb was barely even visible underneath it. Got her trimmed and happy by tea-time, and the field was just lovely on the way back, all blossoming. Made me think of you.”

“Because the grass is just like my eyes,” Harry said, in a tone that was probably meant to sound mocking, failed miserably. “No, let me guess, a flower reminded you of my lips.”

Such cheek could only be met with decisive action, Draco thought, and grabbed his husband by the waist, brought him close-close. “It was actually a tree,” with a huff, and a kiss to the tip of his nose. “A specific curve in a branch. Perfect, just like your arse.”

“Oi!” Harry squealed when Draco pinched, “get your—honestly! Draco, that tickles, you son of a—ha, ow, ow, stop!”

Flushed-cheeked and in his arms, unbearably sweet, laughing and squirming. “Never,” Draco said, and he meant it. “Harry, I—”

“No! Stop it! You silly thing, I know,” breathless, “I know you’re a sap and I know you’re relentless and I hate how, how,” stopped there, shook his head. “I can’t think when you’re like this. Can’t you just, insult me a little or something?”

“In a minute,” Draco promised, nudging until he had access to Harry’s neck, to kiss it and kiss it. “I think I kind of like you like this.”

“Shut up,” still laughing. “You like me any way.”

Draco hummed. “It’s possible.”

“And you’re im—Draco, ha ha, stop!” to the probably-ticklish nips up his jaw, behind his ear. “What about dinner, you git. Stop with the bloody, attack, okay, we get it, you like me!”

“Do we,” with a lick just to drive the point across. “Do we get it. That I like you. Honestly, Potter, sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing wh-hat!” the cry turning into an actual shriek when Draco picked him up, legs automatically fitting around Draco’s waist. “What the fuck!”

Harry was heavy, and Draco’s whole body was sore from casing all day in the field. Happy, happy, he carried his husband to the sofa, and dropped him there with a thud. Climbed on top of him, crushing a bit. “Do we get it now?”

“That you’re a twat? Yeah, baby, we knew that already.”

“Mm-hm,” with a helpless grin. “And you hate it, of course.”

“Despise it,” this fire in his eyes, truly unbearable.

Draco traced his bottom lip with a gentle thumb. “Abhor it,” he added nonsensically.

“Detest it,” nodding, spreading his thighs wider, wiggling so Draco slid closer. “C’mon, Malfoy, quit nattering and kiss me already.”

“You fiend,” with affection thick in his throat. “Do you get it, though. How much I like you. How I think you’re the loveliest thing in the world, and the prettiest, the most precious—”

Harry put his hand on Draco’s mouth, then replaced it with his own. “Yes,” in between kisses, breathless, “yes, I got it, okay. I’m lovely and precious and you’re a prick.”

“He truly does get it,” ducked, still laughing. “What about dinner.”

“We’ll get to it,” getting himself comfortable on the sofa, red-cheeked and the dearest thing Draco’s ever seen. His husband, who’s so easily flustered and so incredibly sweet. “What about my kisses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” raising an eyebrow, “I thought perhaps it’d be too sappy for you to—”

Harry smiled against his lips: dinner would have to wait. This was more important.

(Flufftober day 14. Find the soft AO3 collection here). In this ficlet, Draco is a Magi-vet in honour of @unleashed-fest, a wonderful fest fluf-full of magic, animals, magical animals, and lots of fun. Go check it out!

[mushyposts]

I already put this on ao3 in a comment but you made me cry so you have to see it twice now. I know this entire story is Zuko-centric but I literally can't stop thinking about what this au means for Sokka.

Ok I just have to say I felt so heartbroken for Sokka here. All I could think about was how all of a sudden there's a boy in the place he's supposed to be. HE should be travelling with the men, HE should've been with them for the last three years, HE should be trusted enough with all this important stuff he should know if he is the next chief/acting chief.

He is being told this new kid has seen and done things the most skilled of warriors couldn't have done, like he is this almost untouchable standard Sokka can't reach. Then to be told he's taken Sokka's place in the tribe as Hakoda's and Batos' adopted child, teaching him how to be a man over the three years Sokka didn't even know his father, never a letter, never knowing when they would come home. Then being told by that same kid that he was only playing war. not to mention the piercings and jewellery he's adorned with.

Sokka has been the leader of the remnants of the Southern Water Tribe for three years, and due to the strict gender divides, had no one to teach him how to lead in the way a chief would. He has been the one hunting, defending, in charge of the future of their civilisation, the education of the children, which is really important in their culture. the memories of his father would be so twisted to the memories Hadoka has of Sokka. Sokka, in the months before he left, lost his mother, protecting his little sister. he then saw his father fall deep into depression, becoming very detached, and from what is described, angry and violent, not towards him, but that his still scary behaviour to witness. Then, his father left, and he was told he couldn't come, and that he was in charge of the village. Even though it was probably to boost his ego at the time more than anything, the impact on Sokka in that moment, combined into quite literally what his job becoming.

Just imagine when he finds out the secrets Zuko's hiding and how his father and Bato knew and didn't tell him. Sokka has struggled with feeling like he isn't important, as a non-bender and his relations with his sister, her being a prodigy + a bender, and his father, always feeling like he wasn't enough for his dad, not good enough, not smart enough, not needed, but the Zuko's good enough, Hakoda loves him.

Zuko, who has had an incredibly traumatic and difficult childhood, the last three years of his life is where he has found and made a spot for himself in a positive community that loves him and supports him, Sokka has become increasingly more and more isolated, and his sense of self has changed even more dramatically in the last few weeks.

Sorry for the long rant, but I could just feel Sokka's fears and insecurities screaming at me throughout the chapter. Love this work though, just cried for Sokka <3

HIII OH YOU SO GET IT!! OH YOU SOOOO GET IT!! The fic is for SURE Zuko-centric, but I have been intentionally layering on the potential for his arc to align with Sokka's in completely the opposing way. Zuko has everything Sokka wants, he has a space with the crew, the warriors. he spent the last three years with his father and Bato, bonding, developing his identity as a person alongside the tribe, welcomed in, he has gotten to be everything that Sokka has always wanted. Meanwhile, Sokka has everything that Zuko wants. Sokka was home, somewhere safe with people who cared for him and looked up to him, with his sister, away from his parents and in a position where he was in charge of his own life. Its such a twisted, complex situation where the two crave, desperately, what the other has without thinking about the context. Without thinking of what got the other to the point of having what they wanted, both in turn. IM SOOO happy to see someone talking about Sokka ohhhughhh im so fucking happy. I think a lot of people have focused on Sokka's initial attitude towards Zuko, without thinking about every single thing you've brought up in this beautifully constructed comment, of which I am really excited to eventually flesh out when I am back from hiatus. Sokka, more than anything, wants to be a warrior alongside his father. For Zuko, he doesn't think Sokka fully understands the gravity of what that would look like, especially after having experienced such a heavy loss as he had recently. (RIP king im sorry) but for Sokka, he see's a replacement. he doesnt know the nuances, not for lack of intelligence but he just literally hasnt been told and although he is owed explanation he isn't owed Zuko's story in its full, of what led Hakoda and Bato to the decision of keeping him on board. I firmly believe if Zuko had have been older, or had have been a child from any other nation, Hakoda and Bato would have not kept him. I actually go over this a lot in the early chapters where they're deciding wtf to do. It genuinely ended up being a problem of "well. No matter where we put him he's gonna get killed. How fucked up is that, safest place for this kid is LITERALLY on a warship of the enemy. great." I also think acknowledging the fact that Zuko HAS had a lot of support and comfort in the last three years whereas Sokka has not is a super important point to be made! Despite the current circumstances, and the ones that led Zuko to being in the position he is/was, Zuko did have support which Sokka lacked. TBH, if I hadve had more wiggle room and decided to fuck with canon more then I already had, I would have left a good amount of the warriors in the SWT, unlike in canon. Or had Hakoda go back to leave soldiers there when he realised they were going to be gone for longer then what I am assuming was initially planned. However I was more then aware that would SIGNIFICANTLY change the circumstances of Sokka's experiences and how it aligns with Zuko's, in canon and in the fic, so i chose against it. This is such a sporadic messy reply I am just so happy to get a comment picking up on all the stone I've been laying for a big discussion on the details of Sokka's own trauma and how its going to clash with Zuko's.

All this to say, Sokka will absolutely be getting his turn to hash out everything you've said here and I can promise you no stone will be left unturned when it comes to his trauma and life experiences!! I think a big thing I am most excited for is having the two hash it out and realise where their lives overlap, where their feelings and experiences align and managing to acknowledge that each others traumas dont cancel each other out. Zuko's experiences do not cancel out Sokka's, and Sokka's do not cancel out Zuko's.

[moonshynecybin]

what are your favorite aus you’ve ever come up with?

GOOD question i've churned out quite a few and i dont think i've ever lumped em together... uh full disclosure a lot of my fav aus were collabs or asks sent by my lovely mutuals :) they rule and are probably my faves so i'll lead with those

FCO: forced coming out au... she's maina @kingofthering and i's baby. marc and vale caught fucking in an alleyway a few months after the sepang fallout and vale comes forward to fake date marc in order to keep him from losing his ride... very much about the violence of fame and vale sort of using his influence with the media to PROTECT marc rather than harm him. a fun time with lots of fraught fake dating your ex situations. visuals here

same age au: elle @lestelledreams dropped this in my lap because shes a genius ! and two fics on ao3 were written about it which is CRAZY. basic premise is how it sounds: marc marquez is born in 1979 and they spend their early years doing a very codependent little rivalry/first love dance that gets cracked the fuck open right around the time of marc's arm injury. sweet and very y2k and very about them being stupid overly-competitve teens with REALLY different vibes and sort of. only being able to identify with each other i love it a lot

kayaking/whitewater au: niche sport forever i think about her all the time. kind of my own way to excise some personal feelings as a girl who quit doing a death sport as a teen and then kind of continued working in the same industry as said deathsport and who's brother's lack of little danger voice in his head wrt to the sport reads very marc to me. also im tortured because i simply think they would be very good at it. marc let me get you in a half-slice hard boat pspspsps... and tbh they just fit the vibe. need vale to meet an old man kayaker its the fookin same

reporter au: yayyyyy i love mess. this one is more about saw trapping these fools im like hmm what would hurt marc a LOT. oh never being able to ride only being able to interact with the sport from the other side of the proverbial glass. what would hurt vale a LOT. oh being in love with a REPORTER. lots of half chances and repressed anger and being kind of damaged so you blow your relationships the fuck up. also a sepang-esque scenario that dials in on marc's vindictive streak through it all which i enjoy. my wife is a bitch.

teen mom au: marc with a liddle baby. vale being kind of psycho. what more could you want

bridgerton au: their weird older sibling slay and repressed freak ass horny selves. thank you.

proximity au and emotional bond transference: theres a post missing from this tag and i cant find it :( anywayssss if they arent gonna feel empathy towards each other im going to MAKE them as a sort of benevolent god

amnesia au: i think about this one literally all the time. time travel too its like. the fantasy of erasing their past. for BOTH of them. reset button. but the thing is you CANT... and maybe you dont even WANT to.... also a marc saw trap bc SO much has changed for him…

fantasy au: i think marc would look hot in a doublet and the academy guys as a sort of. fail knights of the roundtable is good 2 me. fun exploration of marc and injury in many ways just add some swords and class dynamics

anastasia au: one of the OGs. don bluth animation.....

threesome au: :3333 lets get nasty.. actually theres two :3

[philtstone]

title: check yes, juliet

Summary:

It doesn't matter that Juliet is a freshly-minted, top-of-her-class field agent (alright, so she hasn't actually been in the field yet) or one of the few women working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's cutting edge check fraud department (just last week, their 20-year-old coffee maker broke and they ran out of number two pencils to mark up their overhead projector notes with): every time her mother calls, all she does is lament that her beautiful, intelligent daughter isn't meeting any eligible bachelors.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Maryanne sighs eventually. “All O’Hara women fall for liars, Julie. It’s our curse.”

Juliet has to wonder if she didn't scoff at her mother's claim a little bit too soon.

my brother & i had the earth shattering realization a month ago that the plot of "catch me if you can" (2002) is almost to a tee just a mildly alternate psych timeline and that thought has lived in my head rent free to such an insane degree that eventually 14 thousand words poured out of me in au fic form. im posting it so as many other people as possible can see the vision. and also because im sure theres one person other than me who revels in early seasons shawnjuliet's frankly insane levels of chemistry, lol. enjoy!

READ FULL FIC ON AO3

Excerpt:

“Your average bounced check would be routed to the bank it originates from, so you’d only really have a few days in one place before you were discovered. This guy’s been filing off the routing numbers, changing ‘em somehow – so cleanly and neatly that it’ll take a real sharp eye to notice. It’s all about the branch you’re cashing it in. A check cashed in at Chase Manhattan with the one changed to ten’s gonna bounce halfway around the country before anyone figures out it’s rotten, and by that point this asshole is long gone. The numbers go East, Central, West – you see how they cover 0-60, 70-80, and of course they require a special kind of ink to be recognized as real checks, which you’d all know if you’d read the report I circulated …”

Juliet doesn’t notice the full cup of orange juice in front of her until it’s too late. 

Her head’s still full of Carlton’s two hour long briefing this morning, during which she learned more about check fraud than she’d have ever thought a single person could in one lifespan. Certainly not Juliet, who’d originally studied literature at Florida State. Then again, back then she’d have never expected to end up an FBI agent, either.

Then there’s the wired, tense feeling in her gut that probably won’t go away ‘til this sting is over and they bring in the pathetic local guy Carlton’s been tracking for the last week. His MO is pretty girls in pastel dresses, which made Juliet the right man – woman – for the job. At least maybe doing this’ll help the guys in the office take her seriously as a field agent. And, well … she does love a nice peachy pink cardigan. The color goes well with her complexion.

“This idiot’s no real con man, he’s just a clown who can’t be bothered to work an honest job. Child’s play compared to the real thing. ” Carlton tends to pause here, angry that he’s got to acknowledge it like that – the real thin g. “ You know what they’ve been calling him in the papers these days?”  

Him . Always him. They don’t have a name on the subject yet, despite over a million cashed in fraudulent checks. Juliet hums and nods so her partner feels acknowledged. 

“ The skywayman . Pathetic. Like he’s some magician or something, instead of a two-bit liar who thinks he’s smarter than me. ”

“This isn’t personal, Carlton ,” Juliet says tiredly. “ It’s not like he knows who you are to be deliberately toying with you.”  

“Oh yes he is. I know he is. I know him .”

Her hands aren’t quite shaking, because that would be stupid; this guy, their local guy, shouldn’t have a gun on him, and if he does he’s not the type to shoot a woman. Juliet focuses on the paper in front of her and tucks a lock of her hair behind one ear. A window of ten minutes – that’s what Carlton said. Unlike Carlton’s unsub nemesis, they know plenty about this one. He’ll come in, dressed like the middle-aged schlub he is, loose tie probably, gray slacks, thinning hair. He’ll notice her, buy her a soda she’ll accept with a faulty check and then pick her pocket for the cash. The string of pearls at her neck makes her a sweet college girl whose parents have money. She mentally forces herself to stop chewing her lip and instead moves her right hand down to her lap, where she can pick at her nail polish without anyone seeing. 

“Well, obviously we wanna catch him,” Agent Dobson says, when they’re a third of the way through the morning briefing and half the room is asleep or dreaming of lunch. Juliet, of course, has been furiously taking notes. He means the Skywayman; he means the real thing. “But you gotta admit, Lassiter, there is a bit of a magic show to a good con, isn’t there? The press has that one thing right.”

“It’s not magic. It’s lies and deceit and a healthy helping of audacity, and a damn good typewriter. O’Hara, write that down. We’re gonna go through that list of makes and models again, see what we can come up with.”

Deep breath. Her purse, orange to match the cardigan, is in her lap. The gun’s in the purse. She’ll draw it, but not to shoot. This is the kind of work she’s begged the Chief for, and she’ll be just fine.

Maybe Juliet would feel less desperate to prove herself if this diner wasn’t in Miami, and her father didn’t gift her the only string of pearls she owns.

A voice clears itself quietly above her.

“Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah, hi. That’s my seat.”

READ MORE

[janeths]

Period Month

since I’m on my period and thought “how would Bowser feel about it? ” Since ya know turtles don’t have menstrual cycles, and since he also doesn’t know much about the human anatomy either. So ye, this happens when Y/N accepts Bowser as his loving partner after the period storm.

Also I have so many one shots between Bowser and Y/N not written just brainstorming , I’ll just write them here, and then I’ll write them on AO3

I hope I don’t make Bowser too ooc, but if I do I’m sorry.

Gender neutral pronouns but ya know, it mentions periods. So ye

It was a beautiful morning, waking up in a kingdom. Especially waking up next to the most powerful and most gentle man, Bowser. “Bowser?! How long have you been up?” Y/N turns around and sees him looking at her, smiling. “Hmm..? Hours probably. I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so tired yesterday, thought I let you sleep more.” Y/N blinks then smiles. “You didn’t really had to do that… wait.. what time is it? “

“Hm? Oh I don’t know.“We got time still. I already have your clothes here. It’ll be hot over there, so I chose some light colors.” “Oh ye-.” Y/N suddenly grabs her stomach. “Uh… could I wear something more dark colors?”

“Is there something wrong with them?” He looks worried. “Oh! No no! It’s just that I’m not feeling the cool colors today that’s all.” “Can I choose them for you?” They both stood up and walked towards the huge closet. “Of course! Either way I don’t know what to wear.” Y/N feels a slight cramp. Don’t worry Y/N, just a small thing. It’ll go eventually.

“Are you ready to go, love? We’re gonna be late if we don’t go.” He says as he mutters under his breath, “Peach hates it when people are late…” Bowser breathes in, and gets a strange strong smell. I haven’t smelt that before, it’s quite strong though…

Couple of minutes passed, Y/N hasn’t gotten out of the room. Bowser was a bit worried and quickly ran upstairs to the room and found Y/N laying on the bed. “Y/N? Why are you still laying down? We’re gonna be late. If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.” The strange smell is much stronger here, is it them? “Hm..? Oh Bowser… I uh..don’t feel too well… I think I’ll stay today. You could go.” Y/N covers herself and presses their stomach. “I’m not going anywhere but here.” Bowser calls Kamek to discharge the carriage, closes the door and sits next to Y/N. “What’s wrong, dear? Is it a headache? Fever? Stomach ache?” He touches their forehead gently. “No…I’m on my…Achoo!” Y/N sneezes unexpectedly and felt something wet and warm. “Oh no…” Y/N quickly takes the covers off and sees the forsaken storm they created. Feeling a bit of shame that Bowser has seen them in that position. THATS-! That’s the smell!

“Y/N! You’re bleeding! Let’s to go the hospital right away!” Bowser picks them up gently holding them with a blanket, and running towards downstairs. “Bowser! Calm down! Im fine!” He stops mid-track almost dropping Y/N. “But you’re bleeding! From down there!” “Bows..Let me go to the bathroom, and I’ll explain everything once I’m changed up. Just bring me clean clothes, alright love?”

Once Y/N cleaned themselves up, threw the dirty clothes and sheets onto the washer, they sit next to Bowser on the bed. “Have you calmed down a bit?” They chuckle as he blushes. “But Y/N what was that? You scared me! I thought you got hurt! I thought you were going to die on me! I kept thinking of horrible thoughts.” He frowns, hug them gently tight due to his figure and not wanting to hurt them. Y/N kisses his snout. “I’m sorry I scared you that way, I should have told you before.” “So what is it then? Because to me it looks like you were bleeding.” “Well… it’s sort of like that. Some mammals have to go through it. Turtles/Tortoises don’t since they are reptilian. I have it since it allows me to reproduce.” “Huh..” “But I don’t want to reproduce right now,so that means that this part right here.” Y/N points under their stomach. “Is what causes it. There’s little tiny eggs, which helps to make the child. But like I said I don’t want kids right now, so they kinda like erupt making me bleed and the consequences of not having a child, is that I have to suffer cramps, headaches, sleepiness, crying. It’s awful. Does that make sense now?” Y/N looks at him,not realizing their leg is shaking due to the cramps.“I do now, and feel much more relaxed. But…still, if you don’t want to reproduce, why do you have to suffer? Why go through it? Why.. everything?” “That’s just how it is…” “Is there anything I can do? Anything to help? I want to make you feel better.” “Well… I’m still cramping and I’m really tired… Do you think-” “Yes! Of course, come here.” They both lay on the bed and pulls them into a hug, their back facing Bowsers stomach. “Mhm.. how does that feel?” “Wonderful. Are your hands warm?”

“Yes, why ask?”

“Could you put them around my stomach? It’ll calm my cramps a bit.” He gently pulls them and puts his hand onto their stomach for reassurance. “I’ll stay here as long as I need too, don’t worry alright?”

“But what about-”

“Love, the kingdom can wait. My priority is to be here with you.” How did he know I was going to- never-mind I want to sleep.

“Y/N?” Fast asleep they went, and here comes the snores they offer. Bowser just chuckled to himself.

Those snores are so cute.

Bonus:

“Mario, I’m glad they didn’t come. It would have been such a terrible thing to send them back home.” Peach sighs, Mario walking back towards her with a warm towel and water. “Don’t worry about it, here…” Mario puts the warm towel on her stomach. “Thank you, Mario, but I really should-” “No, no. You need to at least rest. If you continue, your cramps will get worse. Ill take care whatever is necessary in the kingdom.” He kisses her forehead. “Now just rest my princess.”

Hmm… I never written anything here before. So uhhhh : I like Bowser :3

[loversj0y]

this is me trying

coming back to london and being away from wilbur was hard. fighting your own coping methods and trying is harder.

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

angst, hurt/comfort

TRIGGER WARNINGS: fighting, yelling, broken bottles, lots of tears, and alcoholism, plus the briefest (one line) insinuation of suicidal thoughts.

note: this is part of the 'tis the damn season universe, but doesn't particularly have to be read alongside it (though you'd probably be very confused if you didnt read it). this part is pretty heavy. not even going to lie, i had to stop writing a few times to keep myself from getting too stressed, really heed the warnings. at least im getting better at writing fights? ao3 version

word count: 5.7k

You and Wilbur hadn’t seen each other in months. It was May, and the warm air was making the days feel a bit more pleasant if it weren’t for the glaring guilt in your chest. 

The last time you and Wilbur had seen each other was Valentine’s Day, when he’d taken a train up to London to visit you and surprise you with some takeout and roof access to your apartment — you didn’t actually know you could get up there. He wasn’t able to spend too much time with you, mostly due to your own time constraints, but it was a nice trip nonetheless. When he left, you’d promised you’d come down to Brighton to visit him soon.

That didn’t quite work out. You were going to visit for a full week at the end of the second term, however, once you’d met with your advisor, you learned just how behind you were on your final dissertation. It was incredulous because you had thought you were on track with it, but regardless you had to spend break trapped in the library, trying desperately to catch up on writing your paper on Lord Byron’s work. Then, you were supposed to visit during the Easter weekend, but you were given a paper, due in a week, that blocked any opportunities for travel. 

But you were determined this time. You had to do this. You devised a plan, and you found a perfect weekend where you would be completely free of assignments if you hustled. You even got Tommy in on it. 

“Hey, Tommy, sorry to call you like this, do you have a moment to chat?” 

You heard a laugh through the phone, “Yeah, hold on,” he mumbled something off the phone, and you could make out the sounds of him walking to another room. 

“What’s up?”

“I want to surprise Wilbur, and I need your help.” You smiled as you started launching into the details of your plan, each piece meticulously planned out for a wonderful weekend. 

He grinned, “Aw, he would love that. Why d’ya need my help though?” 

“Well,” you faltered a bit, “there’s a flaw in my plan, and it’s that I don’t know where Wilbur’s apartment is, and I especially don’t know how to get there from the station. So, I was wondering if you’d be able to pick me up and take me to Will’s?” 

“Oh, yeah, no problem, plus it’ll allow me to annoy him a bit as well, so yeah, sounds good.”

You cheered a bit, “Thank you so much, Tommy, you’re the best. I’ll text you all the other details, yeah?”

“Aw, I am the best, thank you. And yeah, that works.”

“Perfect, bye, Tommy!”

He responded with a quick bye in return, and you felt yourself grin. You had been trying so hard to find time to be able to go see him, and this was it!

You got a call a few minutes later from Wilbur himself, and you worried immediately that Tommy may have spilled something accidentally. You didn’t even have a chance to speak before he questioned you.

“Why did you call Tommy with something he will only describe as being ‘important’ and ‘for cool people only’?”

You snorted out a laugh, rolling your eyes a bit, “Well, hello, to you, too, Wilbur.”

“Hi, darling, I hope your classes went well today,” he rushed out, “Now answer my question.”

“I just had a question for him, Will.”

“One that you couldn’t ask me?” You could hear the pout in his voice.

“Nope. As he mentioned, it's for cool people only.”

He let out a gasp, indignation clear in his voice, “Darling, how could you? I am much cooler than Tommyinnit.”

You could faintly make out the sound of Tommy yelling at Wilbur in the background. 

“Don’t worry, alright?” You laughed, “It was just something only he could really answer.”

“Are there questions that exist that only that gremlin child can answer?”

“Believe it or not, yes.”

Wilbur whined on the other side of the phone, “Love, you know he’s going to hold this over me for months, right?”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“So, why?”

“Well, if I’m going to ask a Minecraft-related question,” you lied cooly, “it’s better to ask a professional, isn’t it?”

He was silent for a long moment. “...I am a professional.”

“Will, we’ve played Minecraft together for years. You’re good, but even I could beat you at PVP.”

He groaned, “Is this some ploy? Are you messing with me?”

“Is it wrong for me to try and get closer to your best friend by asking him questions about his interests?” Okay, truthfully, that was a low blow. But the surprise would make it worth it.

“I guess not.” He chuckled, “Sorry, I’m just annoyed about how smug he’s going to be about this.”

“Don’t apologize. You know I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to chat with you, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t either, love,” you could hear the smile in his voice, and the vague sound of Tommy speaking to someone. From over the phone, the room sounded louder than before. 

“Is… something going on over there?” You chuckled, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. You didn’t even know why you were nervous. Something was just gnawing at the back of your brain, and for some reason, you just felt… tense now.

“Oh, uh,” he paused, and you could hear more people talking now, “sort of. It’s nothing big or anything just, uh, Tommy’s having some friends over is all. He and I have been hanging out for a bit today, but we’re just at his now, so he invited a few people over and stuff.”

You nodded quietly. You couldn’t help the sadness you felt fill your chest. You were trying to be there, but it was still hard to hear about all the things you were missing out on, all the times you missed him, and stories and inside jokes you would never truly understand. 

“Right, okay. Well, I-I’ve got to get back to studying, anyway, so.”

“Darling, it’s nothing, really-” “No, it’s not an excuse or anything,” It was,  “I-I just… ‘m busy, is all, so I’ll let you hang out.”

You were both silent. He knew you were lying, and you could tell. But he wouldn’t call you on it. Not now. Not when you hadn’t seen each other in months and every slight felt like a balancing act, trying to keep the other from pulling away. You were so excited a moment ago, and you didn’t mean for the sadness to overtake your entire conversation. You just couldn’t help sometimes how every conversation, every time you heard him talk about the things he was doing, cut you open more and more. He didn’t mean to, and you would never hold it against it but almost every conversation opened the wound a bit further. 

He spoke up after a minute, “Okay, well… good luck studying, and text me when you’re done,” he paused, voice softer, “I love you.”

You bit your lip, unable to hide the guilt bubbling in your chest at his solemn tone, “I will. I love you too.”

You hung up quickly, setting your phone down on your desk. You placed your head in your hands, taking a shaky breath and fighting off the tears in your eyes. It would be easier, soon. You’d see him in a week. You tried to console yourself.

 You wouldn’t admit it out loud to Wilbur, no matter how much he asked, but you weren’t entirely adjusting well to being back here, without him. The first week, you could only fall asleep if he was on the phone with you. Then, there was one night where he fell asleep before you could call. You ended up turning to an older sleep method, knowing that you needed to get to bed in order to be able to make it to classes. Before you knew it, your room became littered with empty bottles you barely had the energy to clean up. It was an interesting dichotomy, the clear vodka bottles piling on your nightstand and the white Panadol bottles piling on your sink and in your backpack. You were mostly lucky the weekend he came for Valentine’s Day, because you had forced yourself to clean up your room a few days before, meaning there was only one half-empty bottle of vodka on your shelf, and a single bottle of Panadol left on your sink (though there were numerous more inside your school bag). 

You weren’t completely lucky, though. Your weekend with Wilbur was almost entirely perfect. Until the end. Every time you thought back to the end, you watched the memory as if it wasn’t you, as if you were a watcher, not the one actually there.

You’d walked back in with Wilbur, around midnight. The apartment was mostly quiet, except for one of your roommates who was standing in the kitchen,  fixing themselves a drink. When they heard you enter, they turned, perking up a bit.

“Y/N, hey, could I borrow some vodka? I ran out.”

You’d nodded, “Yeah, I’ll grab it, hold on.”

While you’d gone to grab the bottle, Wilbur took his coat off, your roommate lightly chatting with Wilbur while you walked to your room and back. You’d only caught the ending of their brief conversation, listening in as you walked slowly from the hallway back to the kitchen, trying to not wake up your other roommates. 

“-mean, seriously, Wilbur, they can even drink me under the table. Every week, they come in with a new bottle.”

“Wait, every week?”

“Yeah!” Your roommate was laughing, and it hadn’t even crossed your mind yet that they were talking about you, “I mean, seriously, once a week, they walk in and one hand has a bag with vodka from Tesco, and the other hand has a bag from the chemist’s.” 

You walked back over by the time your roommate finished speaking, placing the bottle in front of them. Wilbur gave you a strange look as you did, going uncharacteristically quiet as you said a quick goodnight to your roommate, bringing Wilbur, and the bottle, back to your room. 

You placed the bottle back on the shelf while Wilbur closed the door. With your back turned, he spoke up finally. 

“Darling…” he seemed to struggle to find the words, “Are you… okay?”

You’d chuckled, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” he spoke, and you turned to face him. He had a sad look on his face, almost pitiful, and in the moment, it made you feel sick. “You’ve apparently been going through a bottle a week.”

Your entire body had gone rigid, eyes had gone fearful for a moment before you’d defaulted to being defensive. “That doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Wilbur. It just helps me relax, and you know that I can handle my alcohol.”

“Love, you can’t seriously expect me to just accept that answer,” he scoffed, and he almost looked mad. Looking back, you knew he wasn’t mad at you, more just concerned that you were trying to hide this from him. Even so, in the moment, you thought he was mad. While you couldn’t really place why he would’ve been mad, you knew that it made your own blood heat up. 

“Well, it’s- the fucking truth, okay? So just- leave it.”

“How many bottles?”

“Wilbur, what-”

“How. Many.” He looked tense, walking to your bathroom and grabbing the bottle of Panadol, “How many weeks has this been going on? How many bottles have you gotten? If you’re struggling, you should–”

“I’m not fucking struggling, you’re reading into this!”

“Oh, am I? Really?”

“Yes, Wilbur! I am fine, better than fine, in fact, and don’t act like you haven’t been drinking too. You always text me when you do!”

“I’m not against you drinking, but you know how insane going through a fifth a week is. I know that’s not normal for you.”

“How the fuck do you know that? Hm?” You’d practically yelled out before you spoke out again, each word spitting venom at him, “You haven’t been here, Wilbur, you don’t know anything about the way I am when I’m here! Please stop fucking acting like you know everything about me.” You’d gestured with your hands while you spoke, eyebrows raising as you looked at him incredulously, “Yes, okay, fine, you win! I have been drinking more! Basically every night, but that doesn’t mean that something is wrong with me, Wilbur. I am trying my hardest just to fucking exist enough to finish the school year, I am allowed to have vices without it being some big, stupid conversion. Now, let’s just drop it, we’re both exhausted. It’s not going to help to just stand here and argue, okay?”

You’d panted softly as you’d finished. You watched as waves of hurt appeared on Wilbur’s face, and now that the moment had passed, you’d felt just complete, immediate regret as you watched his face fall, staring down at the floorboards. 

“Yeah. Fine.” He spoke out flatly.

You two went to bed that night next to each other, still sharing a kiss and exchanging “I love you”s, but feeling tenser than ever before. 

In the morning, you two had been able to patch things up, but not before Wilbur made you agree to just call him anytime you needed to relax instead of immediately turning to alcohol. You agreed, and you’d been doing a pretty good job of it, even if you still drink sometimes. But ever since the fight, there’d been this tense air in your relationship, lingering in each conversation, both too scared to overstep and lose the other all over again.

You stared at the bottle on your desk as if it was taunting you. You couldn’t call him, so it was that or sleeplessness. You sat up, shaking your head slightly and wiping the tears from your face, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t. Wilbur would call before bed, he always did now. Instead, you distracted yourself, pulling up your laptop and writing out your list of due dates for this week and the next two weeks, albeit the tears in your eyes made it a bit harder than usual. You wrote the list on a sticky note, placing it on your laptop. Some of these things were easier to knock out than others, for sure. Three big assignments and three small ones, plus whatever reading you had to do in between. Thankfully, only two of the big assignments were due this week, the last one could be left for after you came back from visiting him. 

You got started, working on a poem analysis for your Romantic Poetry class and letting your own thoughts fade in the noise of Wordsworth and Keats. 

You’d started working on your second small assignment when he’d called later that night. You set your phone up against your laptop, accepting the video call with a gentle smile on your face. 

“Hi, darling,” he grinned, and with a quick listen to his voice, you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober. You didn’t bring it up.

“Hi, Will. Did you have fun at Tommy’s?”

He nodded quickly, turning to get comfortable in his bed, “Kid’s a menace, for sure, but yes,” he frowned, getting a better look at you, “Babe, are you still studying?”

You sighed, “Yes, Will, I am.” “It’s been like three hours, how dare they? How could they possibly assign you so much?”

“God, I wish I knew. It’s like they all just decided that everything would be due this week. I might not be able to do our video chat dinner this Friday. I have a huge project due on the 21st.” In reality, you would be taking an hour train to his place and having real-life dinner, but he didn’t need to know that yet. 

“That’s not for so long though,” he whined out, pouting.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes a bit, “Yes, but it’s Professor Brian. He makes us all come to his office hours, so he can make sure we’re on the right track, and I need to go in early before the other students can take up all the timeslots. I need to make sure I have everything prepared for that.”

He sighed, relinquishing, “Okay. I know how important all this is, anyways. Plus, graduation isn’t too far now, so you need to finish strong.” He smiled, nothing but supportive towards your academic goals. 

“Graduation will be here before we know it. Still gonna host me that party?”

You both laughed, and he nodded, “Oh, absolutely. We’ll have two parties, a moving party and a graduation party all in one.”

You smiled fondly at him, nodding, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

He gave you a look, eyes full of love and adoration, “I miss you so much, love.”

You sighed wistfully, “I miss you too. We’ll see each other soon enough, I’m sure. We’ve waited years, we can do months.” 

He grinned, repeating your words, “We can do months.”

The rest of the conversation was standard, asking “How’s your day”s and sharing loving words. He tried to convince you to sleep once more, but you told him how important your work was, and he eventually gave up the topic. You wished each other a goodnight, saying “I love you”, before he eventually headed to bed fully. After you hung up, you looked back up at the bottle. The urge to drink was gone now. And if you weren’t going to get any sleep, you may as well continue working.

The rest of the week went by smoothly. The stress and weight of assignments and your plans for Friday kept you from sleeping properly, which at least gave you more time to work on your assignments. 

Friday approached quickly, and you couldn’t sit still in a single class the entire day, let alone Professor Brian’s class. He taught your Victorian Literature class, and he was a genuinely caring professor, despite being a bit intimidating. You could barely focus throughout class, far too excited. When it was time for class to be dismissed, you stood eagerly, but Professor Brian stood in the way for you to leave.

“Do you mind staying a few minutes?” He asked, a kind smile on his face.

As much as you didn’t want to, you really liked this professor, and his opinion of you meant a lot to you. So you nodded, following him to pull a chair up to the other side of his desk. 

He sat down, giving you a gentle smile, “I wanted to ask how your paper is going. You haven’t come in for office hours yet.”

Wow, and you thought you were the early prepper. “Well, I was planning to come in on Wednesday since it would give me a week until the project was actually due.”

He frowned, “What day is the paper due?”

You gave him a confused look, responding simply, “The 21st.”

His head tilted back, and he nodded slowly, “Right, I’ve found the problem then. The paper is due the 12th, not the 21st.”

You felt your heart stop. You pulled out your laptop, looking at the sticky note you had taped to it. You had certainly written the 21st. Fuck, you thought, realizing quickly that it must’ve been a consequence of your own mental state since you’d been crying when you wrote the list. 

“Oh. Oh, god, I’m-” You struggled to continue your sentence, too distraught. The paper was due in three days, not twelve like you’d thought.

“Hey, don’t fret,” he pulled out his calendar, humming for a moment, “It’s an honest mistake, and you’ve always been on top of your classwork. I can’t offer a major extension, but I can give you until Wednesday the 14th, but that’s only if you come to office hours first thing on Monday. I can help out with some more of the editing work for the paper, but only on that day, and you’ll need to have at least most of it worked out. I trust in your abilities to create a well-thought-out thesis, especially given your passion in previous classes when we’ve discussed Wilde. Does that work?”

You nodded quickly, fighting tears as your entire plan crumbled around you. “Yeah, yes. I-I can do that.”

“Alright.” He offered you another kind smile, though it did nothing to stop the feeling of the world-shattering around you, “And are you alright? You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t wish to, but you were much more quiet in class today than usual.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing now, anyway.” You sighed, biting your lip to keep it from quivering too much. You stood, pulling your bag on while he nodded slowly.

“Keep your head up, alright? You’re a brilliant student. I don’t like to see you falling behind.” 

You knew he meant no harm with his words, but it added to the pit of self-hatred that you were slowly sinking into. 

You just nodded, turning and heading towards the door, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” you spoke, trying to put more enthusiasm into your words than you actually felt. 

You practically ran out of the hallway, the air feeling like it was choking you. You walked to a random bench outside, on the edge of campus, unable to stop yourself from completely breaking down. You’d been planning this for weeks, how could you have fucked up this bad? You sobbed, head in your hands. 

The tears didn’t stop. The sun was starting to set, and all of a sudden it felt like there were too many eyes on you, so you stood and ran. You ran all the way to the water, panting heavily as you stared out at the river, standing on the old bridge that was always abandoned this time of night. You stared at the water as you sobbed, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

You had to call Tommy. You already felt like enough of a fuck-up, you could at least prevent him from wasting his time picking you up.

With shaky hands, you took out your phone, dialing Tommy.

It rang once before he picked up, your sobs immediately carrying over the phone.

“Y/N?” He asked, panicked, “Are you crying, did something happen?”

You heard some arguing over the phone, but you could barely hear it over the sounds of your own crying as you began to speak, “Tommy, don’t- I-” your voice quivered, biting your lip hard enough to bleed. 

There was still some arguing happening on his side, but you paid it no mind.

He tried to say something, but you cut him off before he could as the words broke through your sobs. 

“Don’t- don’t bother p-picking me up,” you sobbed out, “I f-fucked it. I fucked it all up.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s- it’s stupid, I- I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t come anymore. I fucked up,” there was sarcastic laughter behind your words as you continued speaking, tears streaming down your face, “I can’t, fuck, I- I fucking ruined everything, I- I was trying, I am trying, but I-” you gasped for breath, one hand clutching your chest weakly as you sat at the edge of the bridge. 

“Take a deep breath, come on. What are you talking about?” It almost sounded like he was pleading. 

“I just-” you sobbed, trying to muffle your cries to get your words out, “Tell Wilbur I’m sorry.” You pulled your phone away from your ear, ending the call despite hearing his panicked voice through the phone. You shoved your phone in your bag, curling up into a tight ball as you sobbed until you could barely think.

Unfortunately for you, you could still think. Your sobbing had been reduced to slow tears and the occasional hitch in your breath. As the sunset faded into the night sky, you became so acutely aware of how you’d fucked up your relationship. The one you’d spent years pining for, that you wanted to work so hard for. You let all of it fall apart. Even when trying so hard, your trying just wasn’t enough. You stood up, walking to the railing and staring down at the water. 

The rushing water felt like it stared back at you. 

You gripped the railing tightly, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe all over again. You slowly backed away, letting go of the railing and trying to collect yourself. 

Once you were calm enough, you turned, walking the slow trek back to your apartment. Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and it’d be impossible to hide that you’d been crying even if you tried. You realized off-handedly that you had no clue how long you’d been there sobbing. The sky was your only reminder that time had even passed. 

You walked to the apartment slowly, body feeling drained. When you opened the door, you were met with all three of your roommates in the living room, staring at you with concern. One of your roommates, Jayden, sighed softly, speaking into the phone and looking away. 

“What’s going on?” You asked softly, voice cracking. You didn’t have the heart to be embarrassed. 

“Wilbur called,” your other roommate, Quinn, spoke up softly. 

You didn’t bother responding, just nodding and walking to your room. They didn’t fight it, watching you quietly. 

You grabbed the bottle, laying down in your bed, and staring at it. There was barely anything left, probably about a shot’s worth. Your hands shook as you stared, mentally waging a war over whether or not you’d take that final sip. A sob wracked your body, and instead of drinking it, you threw the bottle against the opposite wall, watching it shatter and spill over the floor. You couldn’t be bothered, turning away from the door and curling up into a tight ball. You heard movement outside your door, but you didn’t move, and eventually, the footsteps departed. You closed your eyes, lying drained on your bed and letting yourself drift in and out of restless sleep.

When you came to at one point, you could make out the sound of someone picking up the pieces of glass you’d shattered. You wanted to turn, to mumble a thank you to whichever roommate had cleaned it for you, but you felt frozen in your own sadness. You listened, though, keeping your eyes closed. The sounds of each shard falling into a bag, the sound of a towel wiping at the wet spot left by the vodka. Then, there was a pause before you heard the gentle sound of footsteps moving toward your bed. You felt the bed dip, and you couldn’t fight the confusion that creased into your brow. An arm slowly wrapped around you, and you let your eyes open, taking a moment to process. You thought you must be dreaming.

Your voice sounded weaker than you’d hoped it would as you spoke. 

“Wilbur?” You turned, looking up and seeing the face of your lover staring back at you. He looked as exhausted as you felt, and it looked like he’d been crying as well.

You sat up slowly, and he did the same, brushing back some of your hair. 

“Hi,” He sighed softly, sitting across from you, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and your hands reached for him as if to make sure he was actually, really there in front of you. He held onto your arms gently as well. 

“What- what are you doing here?” “You were on speaker when you called Tommy.” He sighed softly, “We could only come for tonight, but we really need to talk. We could wait til the morning if you’d prefer.”

As much as you’d like to have one last good night in his arms, you’d rather rip the bandaid off now.

“No, let’s talk now.” You sighed.

He nodded, watching you quietly, “Can you tell me what happened, then?”

You took a shaky breath, nodding softly. “I was going to come down this weekend. I spent weeks planning it, making sure I could get everything done in perfect timing. But that night I called Tommy, after you called me, I started crying, and I wrote down one of my due dates wrong,” you sniffled, chuckling sardonically at yourself. “God, it’s so stupid. But my professor stopped me after class, and he extended the due date, but he could only extend it by two days. So, I couldn’t come to surprise you anymore, and,” you sobbed, biting your lip and trying to hold yourself together, “I called Tommy and let him know that he didn’t- he didn’t have to pick me up anymore.” 

Wilbur nodded as he listened to you explain. He knew you better than you ever wanted to admit. “On the phone, you said… you ruined everything. You weren’t just talking about the plans, were you?”

You shook your head, moving your hands to hide your face behind them, “No.”

“Did you… think that I would stop talking to you because of this?”

You took a shaky breath. It felt like your last chance to be honest while you still could. So, you let the words spill from your mouth in endless streams.

“I just- I haven’t been doing well, Wilbur, ever since I got back here. I was drinking every night, really heavily, and I know it wasn’t good. And I’m sorry for how I talked to you that night, I was just scared and defensive, and,” you took a shaky breath, “every time we’ve talked after that fight, everything would feel different, and I was just getting terrified that my time was running out, that you were going to finally decide that you’ve had enough of the fucking mess that I am. Every time you would tell me about the cool things you were doing, I just couldn’t help but feel like it was cutting me open, no matter how happy I was for you, and now, I just I feel like I’m an open wound that can’t close no matter how much I try. And I am trying. You have to believe me, really, I am trying. I didn’t,” You cried softly, head still in your hands, “I didn’t drink it. The rest of the bottle, I-I didn’t drink it. I am trying.” You felt like you were pleading for him to believe you.

“Hey, hey” he spoke softly, gently holding onto your forearms, “Let me see your face. Please.”

You let your hands fall, looking up at him. You never felt smaller than in that brief moment where you could feel him seeing you in your entirety. 

He gently moved a hand to your cheek, wiping at your eyes softly. 

“I know you’re trying. I’m proud of you for not drinking it. Really, I’m insanely proud of you. I can see that you’re trying. I’m not going to leave you or stop talking to you because you’re struggling. That doesn’t mean what happened is okay, but darling, you need to communicate with me. Neither of us are going to be perfect about anything, and I know I’m not perfect with it either, but when you start having these thoughts and ideas that I’m going to leave you? That’s when you need to come to me and talk to me. I know it’s hard, and I’m not expecting it to be an easy or quick fix, but I need to know that you know that you can come to me. That I’m someone you truly trust. Because if not, it will just hurt us both.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into his touch, “I’m sorry. I’m going to try, I just- I get so in my head sometimes, I just-” You took a shaky breath, and he carefully moved forward, pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back just as tightly, burying your face into his chest.

“I do trust you,” you whispered, “I’m just scared you’re going to see me the way I see me.”

He took a shaky breath, kissing the top of your head. “And I’m just trying to get you to see yourself the way I see you.”

You sobbed softly, clinging onto him tightly. He held you just as desperately, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you spoke softly once you’d calmed down enough, “so much.” “I love you so much too.” He pulled away, only to pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The kiss felt like breathing, a strong sense of relief in the physical confirmation that despite everything, you didn’t lose him.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, and you both sat like that quietly for a few minutes.

“I missed you,” You spoke softly, looking up at him. “You said you’re only here for tonight?” 

“I missed you too. Even if it didn’t go as planned, at least we still got to see each other this weekend,” he lightly joked before nodding, “We are only here for tonight.”

“Wilbur, I can’t go to Brighton anymore, I have to write my paper,” you sighed.

“Oh, no, I know. I wasn’t talking about you.” “What?” “Tommy insisted on coming with. He was really worried too. He’s currently sleeping on your couch.” 

You chuckled, your chuckle soon turning into full laughter as you imagined Tommy’s lanky limbs leaning off your cheap couch. Wilbur started laughing as well, arms still wrapped around you, slowly rubbing up and down your back.

Once you stopped laughing, you leaned into him, relaxing against his chest. He moved both of you into laying down. 

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. Today’s been exhausting. Can we just sleep?” Wilbur nodded, kissing the top of your head once more. “I would love nothing more than to sleep with you right now.” 

You groaned, lightly hitting his chest, but you couldn’t deny the laughter that bubbled up in your chest. 

“Goodnight, love.” He grinned.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes / @your-shifting-gurl (send an ask/dm me if you want to be added)

[tennessoui]

may ko-fi: mer au part 3!!

ok so technically it is june now and officially no longer mermay but a girl was busy last night and watched challengers instead of writing mermaid sex and she's very sorry (disclaimer: there is no actual mermaid sex in this final part)

but i'm only a day late and i consider it a solid win!! the last part of the mer au fic has finally been posted on my ko-fi for monthly supporters to read and it puts the whole mer au at a completely unintentional 19k (that's not a special number i just thought the original fic would be like. 6k. so. whoops.)

here's a little snippet!:

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agrees. “For mers, usually when they’re courting, they—well. I suppose you know how mers court their intendeds.” Anakin blinks. “How would I know that?” Obi-Wan can feel his lips thin out for a moment, his eyes tighten. “You were the queen’s intended,” he reminds him carefully. “She must have courted you in the only way she knew how.” “Oh! Oh,” Anakin says. “Yeah, alright. She brought me things, yeah. Pearls and jewels and, uh. Fish at one point. So I gave her, like. A fork?” Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a long breath through his nose. “She really liked the fork,” Anakin adds, defensive. “I’m sure,” Obi-Wan says, and the truth is he thinks she probably did love the human object. The queen has always been fascinated by the human world. Perhaps if she were born as any other mer, she would have tried, as Obi-Wan had tried, to live among them. Anakin looks over him critically. “You don’t have a fish, right?” he asks, sounding hesitant. “Only it was all bloody, and I’m not really…hungry. Right now.” “No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says.

as a quick reminder to how these ko-fi fics work, every month i post at least one new ficlet (from 4k to apparently 19k) to ko-fi in the gallery section - each gallery post contains a link to a google doc in its image description, and you have to be a monthly supporter to access those image descriptions! there are quite a few at this point if you're interested but this is absolutely not at all something i expect or demand or any other hard action verbs from anyone who likes my writing (but im so so grateful and thankful for anyone who does ofc)!! im still posting fics on ao3 and on tumblr. it's just new and different fics up on ko-fi! they're all a bit silly, like superhero anakin x journalist (maybe villain?) obi-wan, jedi werewolf obi-wan and jedi anakin, divorce lawyer obi-wan x serial-groom anakin, etc etc

[dragon-queen21]

HIII MEE AGAINN i need to talk about baby giyuu because im a sucker for him and he NEEDS more agere content

this ones also kinda sad because, im sad, giyuus sad, we are all sad, yknow?

-hmmm i dont know im a sucker for the idea that he wouldnt know he particularly regresses until someone finds him like that and after taking care of him, the moment hes okay and big again they have to explain that no giyuu, your not just tired. your tired AND a age regressor. and that being SHOCKING for giyuu man, my boy has self loathing thoughts on a good day, imagine hin having to come to terms with his brain making hin act like a baby for a while is probably worse than finding out he was a hashira (haha manga moment)

- and in that case,, vent regressor ☹️

most of the time he wont be little until hes too foggy to do anything he needs to, and then that accompanied by the fact he thinks no one likes him, so now hes lonely and hes too little he thinks to be alone, ah, this is a recipe for a meltdown huh?

him on a mission with one other hashira or something on a time where he is too foggy, and he makes a big mistake and the other person there gets mad at him , and starts yelling at him saying that that mistake could have cost them their lives, not entirely in a bad way, the others just concerned for him because tomiokas not the kinda guy to make a big mistake like that. and giyuu is not in the right place to be scolded like that and just bursts into tears, like straight up wailing, covering his face, kicking his feet, and the other one there is confused, why is tomioka having a.. dare they say tantrum?

^i feel like after alls well and good, hes big again, hes apologized, he realizes just how important it is to take care of his little side.

- i feel like tengen would be a good cg for him, also would probably be the first to know giyuus a little. amazing hearing and all, could probably hear baby babbles from a couple miles away, and at first hes like oh i wonder who that is 🤔🤨 yknow in a suuppeeer gossipy way because, we all know he gossips come ON now, but when he makes his way to the water hashiras estate hes like oh! oh. and now hes confronted with A) go inside and take care of him or B) leave and never speak of this again.

spoiler alert, he picks A. i mean, assuming giyuus little here, it wouldnt be that hard, i mean, his wives are littles too its not like hes not expierenced, and giyuus not exactly too much to handle so..

OH MY GOD THIS WRAPPING AROUND TO THE FIRST POINT HERE WHATT “im a sucker for the idea that he wouldnt know he particularly regresses until someone finds him like that” IM JUST LIKE THWT no can you see i have like the same three ideas in my head

- anyhow i feel like giyuu would be a not only a smaller regressor but definitely a easy going kid. he does NOT have the energy to do anything else but sit and babble, maybe on a good day he’ll even play with some toys (tengen bought him) (tengens his main cg for a LONG time)

- i think he’d go to a few meetings, uh, not quite little but foggy, a indication he needs to be little. on those times he wont really, listen to the master, just nod his head with ecerything he says because he does not trust himself to talk right now, and will normally ask shinobu for everything important when hes big again.

it does not go well when kagaya (i think, the master) asks giyuu a question and giyuu is fighting demons to not only answer, but answer without slurring words. he thinks ge did pretty good, untill the other hashira are giving him strange looks, and tengen has a look of sheer “oh godohgodohgod” and hes big enough to know hes absolutely cooked

OKIEIM DONE IMDONEBYAYYYYY well oh no because this is so sad um!!!!!!!? sorry?!!! most times these asks go based off my mood sorry for making giyuu a angst fest!!!! byeeeeee

📷

I do know. Do you know how much of my angst writing comes because I’m once again depressed? Well let me tell you, it’s most of it. Y’all should see my ao3 haha. Agere angst is some of my favorite things to write about :3

You and me 🤝 projecting onto characters

~~~

~Giyu: “No no, I’m just tired. Nothing else. Maybe a bit dissociative.”

The pillar that found him: “no, no you’re definitely regressing”

~Giyu pushing himself to the very limit because he’s already a burden, acting like a child, not having control over the way his mind fogs and he wants to do nothing more than curl up in someone’s lap and cry. But Shinobu reminds him that everyone hates him, acting like a baby won’t help even if her words hurt more than anything and Tanjiro’s hurt, his baby brother who he failed to protect, and he fails everyone around him, and why can’t he just be a child when everything was okay and simple…

~at the very least he has to do something to manage the headspace. So he lets himself be small, but do nothing more than sit and wallow in the feeling. He doesn’t deserve to be comfortable.

~Tengen finding out he’s a regressor (why him? because dad Tengen obviously :3 ) and trying to buy the little comfort items like blankets and a pacifier

~Oh hey lol I wrote this part before reading more of what you wrote. XD Can you tell I have a one track mind for my favorite characters?

~Giyu just lets himself go with whatever is happening around him, not enough energy to put up a fight. The only thing that might happen is he would start crying if he got overwhelmed

~What that’s such a good plot reference. Giyu trying to hide his regression and being like “I’m doing a great job, no one suspects a thing.”

~Tengen meanwhile: Dying. Actually dying of not only second hand embarrassment but also of the urge to grab his boy and take him far away from the disaster that is no doubt about to play out before him

[arthropod-concoctions]

(AO3)

Grian's ears were still ringing when he respawned, back at home. He closed his eyes, buried his face in his hands, and groaned.

“I'm so sorry, Scar,” he muttered to himself. He'd decided to go make an apology to the man himself as well, as he would also be waking up right about now. Grian opened his eyes-

And immediately noticed that he was not in his own base.

He sat up and looked around to get his bearings. He was lying in a soft green bed, in an organically-shaped room with walls of living wood and beautiful wood-carved furniture. Jellie was lying in a cat bed a few meters away.

Scar's base. Why on Earth am I in Scar's base? He thought. “Scar?” he called out, then cleared his throat, because his voice sounded incredibly hoarse. There was no response.

He got up to go find Scar, but barely made it two steps away from the bed before collapsing onto the floor. His legs felt like he'd walked a marathon. That was concerning; respawn pain wasn't supposed to be this intense, even after exiting a hardcore world, and he'd barely even hurt his legs when he died. His ears were the part that got hurt-- and they still did. He rubbed his ears, hoping to make the ringing stop. It didn't, but Grian noticed something else: his ears had pointy tips.

“Wait a second...” Grian suddenly had an idea of what might have happened. He hastily dug through his horribly unorganized inventory for something with a mirrored surface. He eventually found a hand mirror with golden decorations, which he'd never seen before, and looked into it. A scarred face with dark green eyes looked back at him.

“Oh no,” Grian said, in Scar's voice.

He was in Scar's body. That must be why his legs hurt so much, he realized. He looked around and quickly saw a cane carved from spruce wood leaning against a nightstand, with a large green crystal worked into the design. Grian grabbed it, and immediately felt the pain lessen; slowly, he stood up again. For a second he tried to rebalance with his wings, but of course they were gone now.

This was a very big problem; seemed like something had gone wrong separating his and Scar's soulbond. He should probably check how his own body was doing; he closed his eyes to Watch elsewhere--

And nothing happened. He just opened his two regular eyes again.

He sighed. “Right. Scar's not a watcher.” he'd have to go check things out the old-fashioned way, but before then, he decided to send a quick message to everyone online. He pulled out his chat; the device was colored cyan and orange.

Grian joined the game

GoodTimeWithScar joined the game

<Cubfan135> heyoo

<Zedaph> Hi there!

<GoodTimeWithScar> guys

<GoodTimeWithScar> there's a big problem

<Cubfan135> need some help, Scar?

<GoodTimeWithScar> not right now

<GoodTimeWithScar> but

<Grian> no im having the time fo my life lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> im not scar

Grian experienced kinetic energy

<GoodTimeWithScar> that is

Well, at least Grian's questions of what had happened to his body and Scar's soul were answered now. He decided to go find Scar, and see if he had any idea what to do now. He left Scar's treehouse, opened his elytra-- mechanical elytra, he'd have to get used to those again-- and took off.

He flew towards Scarland's main street at first, before realizing his mistake; he set his own spawn point at his own base, so that would be where Scar was. Sure enough, when he approached his base he also saw a figure with black-and-white wings circling around the rocks floating high in the sky. It was a surreal sight.

Grian ascended up to where Scar was flying around-- quite clumsily, he should add-- and called out to him: “Scar!” he landed on top of a rock, nearly losing his balance but regaining it by using Scar's cane. Scar, who had been singing to himself, looked in his direction.

“Flying around, so gracefully on the wings of a- WHAT IN THE WORLD!” Scar shouted, the sight of Grian spooking him so much he involuntarily flexed his wings, and he began to fall down.

Grian watched Scar plummet down and try to recover, frantically flapping the wings but not letting them catch any air, before eventually hitting one of the rocks floating lower down and dissolving into white smoke. Grian winced, and began gliding down again, towards his bed this time.

He touched down just in time to see himself rolling out of his own bed, visibly shaken. Scar looked in his direction and startled again, falling back onto the bed.

“That was hard to watch. Hello, Scar,” Grian said to him.

“I don't- who are you and how have you- wait.” Scar stammered, before stopping to think for a second.

“...Grian?” his expression on Grian's face was dumbfounded. I hope I don't look like this much of a loser when I'm myself, Grian thought to himself.

“Yeah. It seems we've done a bit of a switcheroo for some reason. What, did the wings not give that away to you?”

“Yeah, but I thought we'd just merged together for some reason! I didn't think you would be in my body!”

“And that didn't concern you for even a second?”

“No, I was having too much fun for that. Look, dude, I have wings now!” Scar said, and spread his wings out again.

“Yeah, I know, those are my-” Grian didn't finish his sentence, distracted by the sight of Scar jumping up and flapping the wings, not gaining any air at all, and faceplanting into the ground. He groaned.

“You just respawned. You have to give them a few minutes before they work again.”

“That's lame,” Scar said, sitting up. “Anyway, what should we do now?”

“I dunno. Maybe we should go check on some of the other people that've come back, see if they're- what's so funny?” Grian said to Scar, who was giggling.

Scar stifled his laughter, and waved his hand. “Nothing, nothing. Keep talking.” His smile looked very out of place on Grian's face.

“Right. So, check on the other peeps, or maybe we should talk to X and see if- why are you laughing?”

Scar's giggle had evolved into a full-on laugh now. “I'm sorry!” he said between wheezes, “It's just... I sound so stupid with a British accent.”

Then he added, doing a terrible imitation of Grian's accent: “'maybe we should go see X to-' see, I just sound normal now!”

Grian pursed his lips, then whacked Scar on the shoulder with his cane. He half-expected to feel the impact in his own shoulder as well, but fortunately that wasn't in effect anymore.

“Hey, back off!” Scar said in response. “You know, technically you're hitting yourself when you do that. Self-harm is very unhealthy, don't you know?”

“Oh- you're one to talk, mister powdered-snow-baths!” Grian responded. “Anyway, I think I'm going to go check on Tango and Etho now. You wanna come with, or...?”

“Okay!” Scar said, before standing up again. “Let's fly, bird boy! Wait, no I'm the bird boy now. Let's fly, elf boy!” With that, he spread his wings out once again, and successfully took off this time. Grian grabbed a firework rocket and followed suit.

“Remember, Scar, I'm using regular elytra now. So if you fall, I'm not gonna be able to catch you.”

“Oh, you think I'm gonna fall? Of course not, I am an expert at flying with wings now! Did you not see me practicing...” Scar's voice faded into the distance as he moved closer and closer to the ground, too distracted by talking to keep his altitude consistent.

Grian heard his own voice yelp from below, and burst out laughing. Server-moving bugs aside, it was nice to be flying again. It was good to be back.

(next)

[space-apples]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47493238

if you want to read it here and not on ao3, it’s under the cut !!!

The sun was just rising from the horizon, but Mumbo was awake. It wasn’t the first time– it wouldn’t be the last either– yet he could feel his eyes ever drooping. Despite that, he remained awake, not particularly doing anything but observing, noticing, discerning. Scar was asleep, of course, next to him, and it was times like these that Mumbo was reminded just how beautiful Scar was. His long brown hair, slightly tangled but still woven around his head so delicately that Mumbo could trail his fingers through his husband’s– husband, husband, husband, oh gods his husband’s– hair. The sun’s light was not quite reaching his face, but Scar had still radiated warmth. Even the things that weren’t typically seen as “perfect,” or what wasn’t societally deemed charming, Mumbo paid attention to each detail as if it was the last thing he’d ever pay attention to. Mumbo could only hope that he gave as much warmth to Scar as he did him.

What if Mumbo didn’t? What if he wasn’t enough?

A short yawn and a couple blinks broke Mumbo from his trance, and Scar slightly jolted, giggling softly to himself.

“Well, hello there,” he said groggily. “It’s so early, why’re you awake already?”

Mumbo’s soft smile grew ever more sheepish as he tried to think of a legitimate reason other than ‘I thought my husband was pretty.’ or, ‘I thought you were pretty.’

“Oh, uh– I dunno– Uh– I was– I was looking at– Looking for uhm–”

Scar was waiting patiently, although his eyes were still half lidded, and his blinks were getting longer each time he started to close his eyes.

“Oh geez. I’ve bored you already.” Mumbo brang a hand up to his forehead, probably attempting to hide his face, but Scar grabbed it before he fell down a self-hatred spiral.

“No, my love, you’re not boring me,” he started. “It’s just that it’s five– six o’clock in the morning, and I was too busy staring at you last night to actually go to sleep.”

Mumbo could only get out one word of surprise.

“Oh.”

But his thoughts clouded and interrupted each other in a fit of… excitement? Being Flustered? Either way, all he could think of was oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, he was looking at me, he was looking at me, he was looking at me, I want to hold him and never let him go. Mumbo cleared his throat.

“O-Oh,” he repeated, simply. His ears had turned bright pink.

“Oh,” Scar also said, another giggle escaping his lips. Scar kissed his forehead, and Mumbo’s ears turned even redder as he went back to sleep.

Mumbo flipped out his communicator, quite almost immediately, in a frightful mess.

< Mumbo Jumbo > Whispers to Grian… Oh my gosh, dude. What do I even do, oh my gosh.

< Grian > Whispers to you... well. you could always use tnt?

< Grian > Whispers to you... give them a little scare. touch their redstone. start wars.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling softly to himself. Mumbo supposed he should have given context, because of course Grian would suggest something like that if he didn’t know what was going on. To be honest, Grian probably would suggest something like that even if he did know what was going on.

< Mumbo Jumbo > Whispers to Grian… Sorry. I’m talking about Scar.

< Mumbo Jumbo > Whispers to Grian… He’s just so sweet, Grian.

< Grian > Whispers to you... oh

< Grian > Whispers to you... im guessing youre not going to use the tnt then?

< Mumbo Jumbo > Whispers to Grian…Definitely not.

< Grian > Whispers to you... boring

Mumbo rolled his eyes, and thinking that was the end of it, he closed his communicator. Until it buzzed again.

Grian blew up.

< Grian > Whispers to you... see? im not boring like you gay people

He cackled before putting it away– really, this time– and traveled quickly to see if Grian needed any help getting his stuff back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The day had started out well enough, but that high of being near his husband and having fun with Grian was slowly fading. Mumbo needed to finish this stupid project. It was so close to being finished, all he had to do was set all of the redstone to be in its place, but Mumbo’s head started hurting after a few hours. He couldn’t really understand why. Sure, he was sleep deprived, but it shouldn’t have been as terrible as he felt at this current moment. He felt a buzz from his communicator, and while he really did want to check it, he decided against it in an attempt to stop the repeated pulsing that was going on in his head. He needed to focus on trying to get this redstone pulse to start going, anyways.

The comm buzzed again, and he forced himself to place it where he couldn’t see it; he couldn’t finish this project if his migraine got worse, and he didn’t want to think about how bad it would get if he stared at his electronic device for too long.

It faintly buzzed for a third time while Mumbo put it in his bag, and he bit his lip, wondering if it was important. He faintly wondered if he didn’t answer now, would he get in trouble? Would people be mad at him?

What if whoever was messaging him was in trouble, and all he was doing was setting up pointless redstone contraptions. What if whoever was messaging him was dying, was asking him for help, and he wasn’t looking because if Mumbo so much as blinked too hard, his head would scream at him.

This was stupid. He was stupid. He should just check the goddamn thing.

And– No. It would be fine, Mumbo thought. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal. People don’t answer messages all the time, and so far nothing tragic has happened. Mumbo compelled himself to keep going, to avoid checking whatever messages he had gotten, and to just take a deep breath. It would be fine. He would be fine.

Still, still, that nagging voice that had stuck into his brain kept asking him the same thing; what if he wasn’t good enough?

.

.

.

.

.

.

Mumbo, per usual, wasn’t sure if he knew what was going on. His migraine had alleviated over the next few hours, albeit slightly, but coming back home had made it spike right back up again. Scar was sitting at the table, spinning the small spoon in his tea. Scar looked at the cup so intently, it was like he was trying to memorize each individual tea leaf. Normally, Mumbo would come home before Scar. Normally, Mumbo would notice the slight tremble in his partner’s hands, the slight quiver in his voice as he said his greetings, the nervous and terrified look his eyes seemed to possess.

Normally, when Scar would ask Mumbo about his day, he’d go on about all the different changes in the flowers scattered across his and Grian’s base, about the changes he made in his vault, the work he’d done, the redstone that gave Scar a headache when Mumbo would try to explain. But now–

“It was good,” was the short and simple reply to Scar’s question. Scar seemed to deflate in response to his words, and normally– normally– Mumbo would notice. But his head felt like it was splitting into pieces, and he couldn’t act the way he ordinarily would. On any other day, he would have wanted to ask what was wrong, what he could do, but right now? All Mumbo wanted to do was sleep.

“Have– Have I done something wrong?” It was so quiet Mumbo almost missed it. Almost.

“What?” Mumbo finally, finally truly opened his eyes to see Scar nervously fidgeting with the different sets of earrings. “Not– Not at all, dear. Have I done something to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong?”

Scar shrunk a bit more into himself. Ah. So that’s a yes. Guilt poured through his chest, and despite not knowing what he did, Scar was upset. He was the one who made Scar upset. He wanted to cry, he wanted to berate himself and never show his face ever again. Mumbo’s head was screaming, shouting at him– not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough– before he shut that down. This was about Scar. He could resolve his own guilt later.

“What’s going on, love?” Mumbo’s voice was soft– partly because saying things too loudly made his headache worse, mostly because he didn’t want Scar to feel more upset than he already was.

Scar bit his lip, as if he was hesitant to share. At that, Mumbo continued, trying to ignore the blaring spikes in his head.

“I want to help soothe whatever is making you feel–” Like you’re not enough. “–whatever it is you’re feeling right now. But– But I can’t stop doing something that makes you feel bad if– if you don’t tell me. I’m a genius, but erm– I haven’t figured out how to read minds yet. Unfortunately, erm– Unfortunately Minecraft Redstone For Dummies doesn’t exactly cover it.”

Scar gave a half smile, and that should have been enough to make Mumbo’s headache go away, if that was at all how headaches worked. But– he frowned again, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I don’t want to make a big deal–”

“Sorry to interrupt, my love, you know I really enjoy hearing what you have to say– But this is a big deal,” he said, and rushed to his next words upon seeing Scar’s expression. “And that’s alright! Things are– Things are allowed to be a big deal.”

A few seconds passed, then a minute. And though Mumbo’s migraine was getting ever so worse, he stayed, patiently waiting for Scar to share however little or however much he wanted to.

“We– Gods, this is going to sound so stupid, but I got really– I got really nervous when I woke up by myself this morning, because I– I didn’t know where you went.” Scar wasn’t looking at Mumbo in the eye, yet Mumbo hoped Scar knew that he wasn’t angry at him as he was talking.

“I’m not– I don’t really know why it bothered me so much, but then I messaged you after I had a scary time in the nether, but I didn’t get a response, and then– I guess– I guess I’m just used to hearing a lot about your day. I love hearing about your day, because you just– you have this contagious excitement whenever you’re talking about random redstone mumbo jumbo that I have absolutely zero clue on what you’re talking about. Redstone mumbo jumbo–” he repeated the words. “–it makes you so happy, and you, Mumbo Jumbo. You make me happy. But today– it might be an off day, or something, because I just– I was worried that I wasn’t making you feel happy anymore.”

Near the end, Scar became more quiet, slumping even more, and looked down at his hands self consciously. In return, Mumbo gently cupped Scar’s face with his own hand, tracing his cheek lightly tracing one of Scar’s horns with the other.

“Scar, I don’t think you understand how happy I am when I’m with you, Just– just thinking about you makes my chest beat a little bit faster.” Mumbo gently grabbed his husband’s hand, putting it lightly against his own chest. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you can feel it. I don’t know how that works, but I– I hope you get the sentiment.”

Scar’s face crinkled in small amusement, and Mumbo continued.

“I– I’ve had a horrid migraine this whole day,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that.”

Scar’s eyes widened, and he broke Mumbo’s hold by placing his head in his hands.

“O-Oh gods, that– Makes a whole lot more sense.”

“No need to be upset with yourself, love–”

“I’m not– I mean, I slightly am, but only because I didn’t notice.”

“Scar, it’s not a physical thing, I don’t expect you to notice a physical thing,” Mumbo said lightly.

“It’s not a physical thing, but you do physical things when you’re in pain,” Scar murmured. “You furrow your eyebrows sometimes. You– you do this thing where you pinch your nose with your fingers. Your voice gets really strained when you try and talk, and–”

Mumbo’s ears were turning pink in embarrassment.

“I– I didn’t realize how you– how much I– Am I that predictable?”

“Mumbo, I don't think you understand how much I love you.” Scar softly smiled, lightly bonking his forehead against Mumbo’s. Ow. “You’re not predictable– Well, maybe you are a little bit– but that’s only because we’ve been together for so long.”

Mumbo’s ears turned a darker shade of red.

“O-Oh,” he fumbled over his words. “G-Gosh darn it, Scar, I was trying to help you, and now you’ve– Oh gosh–”

Scar stifled giggles before responding.

“You have helped me. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

“...Really?” Just like Scar previously, Mumbo was hesitant to believe it. He didn’t think he was particularly helpful. He didn’t think he was particularly good enough. Scar pulled away from the hold to kiss him lightly on the forehead, as if that would cure his blazing headache.

“I mean– all of my silly little insecurities won’t go away in an instant, but I– you being around me at all just makes me feel a bit better. You don’t even have to do anything, if I know you aren’t tired of me or something.”

“I could never be tired of you,” Mumbo hastily said, and Scar softly smiled.

“And I could never be tired of you, sunshine. You– You make me happy, is what I’m trying to say. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s made me as happy as you have.”

Oh. Oh. That. Oh.

Mumbo didn’t know how to respond, and apparently Scar knew that, because he stood up, walking with his cane over to the kitchen. He came back after a few seconds, holding a couple of Advil pills and a glass of water.

Mumbo was amazed, to say the least.

“Can you– Can you mindread?”

Scar giggled.

“No, sunshine. I’ve been married to you for two years,” he said fondly. “Now go to sleep.”

Mumbo wanted to stay up later, but the pain in his head made it pretty difficult to argue, plus, Scar was warm, and he didn’t want to leave that alone.

Sometimes Scar’s heart was so warm it burned himself, and Mumbo knew this.

He was really hoping Scar wasn’t deflecting his own issues to comfort Mumbo’s, but once he remembered the words his husband had spoken he couldn’t stop thinking about them.

“You have helped me. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

And maybe– just maybe– Mumbo’s worries about not being good enough lessened.

And as Mumbo snuggled in closer towards Scar, maybe his worries about being unloved had lessened, too.

Like Scar had said earlier, it wouldn’t be rid of right off the bat, but maybe– maybe they didn’t have to get rid of their “What if”’s– at least, not completely.

Because, as much as Scar wonders, “What if he doesn’t love me?” he should counter with, “But what if he does?”

Maybe that would be good enough for now.

Either way, Mumbo would be good enough– not just for now, and he wasn’t just good enough– he was more than that. He was Mumbo; and that made him ethereal.

[nowoyas]

Koi no Yokan 13: get your brain back (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: due to yesterday's URL change, inter-chapter links are not currently working. I am in the process of fixing these, but have literally ninety-four fic posts to fix that with, most of which are linked in multiple places. the links on this post and in the new masterlist will work, but I would recommend reading on ao3 in the meantime until this note disappears.

Summary: You are brought home from the hospital to the Nishinoya household.

Warnings: blanket series warnings, mentions of/implied child abuse and neglect (non-explicit)

Words: 4500+

Noya to [name] at 23:49

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba as a kitten, curled up in the center of a futon. Her body forms a perfectly circular shape.]

Noya: hope everything's okay at the hospital.

Noya: here's soba stealing my futon when she was a kitten. hope she brings a little luck so you can sleep half as good as she does

Noya: might be difficult though, she's a good sleeper

~

Noya to [name] at 00:01

Noya: usually i'm a good sleeper too [message not sent]

~

Noya to [name] at 6:48

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba laying on her back in the traditional maneki-neko pose, stomach exposed with one paw up and the other curled against her chest. Her stomach is composed primarily of extreme fluff.]

Noya: a good luck soba to encourage your swift recovery

~

[name] to Noya at 7:03

[name]: :)

~

Noya to [name] at 7:10²⁷

Noya: [name]-san WHAT are you doing looking at your phone

Noya: the doctors said no screens! >:(

[name]: only if it asorsens my sympotoims

[name]: soba could NEVER do that tom e

[name]: sorry for yops im reading your texts and then reponsding without looking so im not using up m screntime

Noya: you're supposed to be RESTING!!!

[name]: was

[name]: yop ten worst ways to wake up

[name]: number one; forgetting to tunr off your wakeup alarm so yup get up at like six thirty in the fucking am with the worst heaxache youve had in your life and your phone screaming in your ear

[name]: tried fo r abit to get back to sleep but mostly ive just been trying to recover from the fucking wakeup alarm

Noya: oh my god

Noya: can you take phone calls? I don't wanna make your head worse

[name]: one sec

~

Noya's in the gym, but practice isn't for another twenty minutes, technically, and he's not sure anyone will blame him for having his phone this morning, let alone when he answers on the first ring. At worst, he gets a raised eyebrow from Chikara, but when he speaks in a soft, worried tone, it's immediately brushed off.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Your voice comes through a moment later. It's strained, and he's almost certain you've been crying, but he elects not to comment. "I'm alright, but I died."

He laughs softly, scurrying outside of the gym so he has room to pace. "You're doing better, then."

"Mm. Head still hurts like hell, but I haven't had any like… major events to justify keeping me here. They'll probably let me out on time."

"That's great! Other than the alarm incident, did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, actually." You pause. For some reason, he holds his breath. "I guess Soba helped. Thanks."

"Of course. Listen, though, Okaa-san's not budging on you staying with us, at least until you're able to return to school and stuff. She wants to know what you want for dinner tonight."

Another pause. "Karaage. Is she… I mean… is she cool?"

He nods, forgetting for a moment that you can't see him. "She is. She raised me, you know."

A soft laugh comes through, barely picking up. "She must be really cool then."

"She's got a few options for you for how we're handling everything, but I think she's gonna talk to you more about those when we pick you up from the hospital. For now, you just focus on trying to rest, alright?"

There's a voice in the background—no one he recognizes, not that he would—that he can't quite make out, just as Ryu's head pokes out of the gym to grab him.

"Practice is starting," Ryu says in a low voice. Noya nods, gestures to the phone and holds up a single finger. That's all it takes to get a nod of understanding in reply.

He waits patiently until you're done talking to the stranger—your voice pitches into a whine, all I know, I'm sorry, just let me say goodbye first, a bit muffled with a shuffling sound that makes him think you're covering the speaker with one hand.

Another shuffle, and you return to him. "Okay, sorry—"

"I have to go," the two of you say in unison.

You huff. "Are you just trying to make me feel better for leaving?"

"No. Practice is starting. Ryu just came to get me."

"…right. That was a nurse on my end. They're yelling at me for getting out of bed when I'm still unsteady. Is it just your mom coming to pick me up later?"

"I'm gonna head out early to come with her."

"Senpai…"

"Lecture me when you're not getting lectured by nurses for slipping out of bed," he replies, cheeky.

"…fine. Make sure to tell me about practice later, okay? And tell Yachi-san and Shimizu-senpai I'm sorry I'm not there to help out, but I'll be back soon. And tell Hinata I died. And—"

He cuts you off with a laugh. "I'll tell them all that. You go rest."

When the both of you hang up, he takes the time to send another picture of Soba—this one asleep, covering her face with her paws—and runs inside, tucking his phone away to join practice.

~

Noya and his mom arrive to pick you up at hour 24 on the dot, and you have never been more excited to see a soul in your life. You're checked out, brought back to Noya's. His mom doesn't say much to you on the drive back, and you regret to admit that you don't really remember much of meeting her yesterday.

Noya is the one who fills the silence for the most part—he tells you all about how practice today went, the blow-by-blow of their little scrimmages, how he started working on the thing he was telling you about yesterday.

You blink at him blankly. "I, uh… sorry, but I gotta ask. I remember almost nothing from yesterday…"

"Oh! I'll show you a video when we get back—I mean, if your head can handle a few minutes with a screen," he adds, glancing nervously at the sharp look his mom is giving him in the rear-view.

One of many restrictions: you're not allowed screens. Or reading. Or thinking. Or fun. Also, no exercise, no texting (not even without looking at the screen, your nurse had chided after you'd tried to respond to your bonus morning Soba), and basically anything involving any amount of focus. They'd had the audacity to follow that up with oh, but you'll make things worse if you rest completely without doing anything at all, so you can still do things!. In other words: 

if something hurts, don't do it

do not take painkillers for the hurt

everything hurts

doing nothing will make things worse and cause recovery to take longer

Or, in still other words: you expect to experience a complete mental breakdown by the end of the day.

You meet Noya's mom's eyes in the rear-view again. You don't remember what you said to her yesterday, but you do recognize her as the lady who runs your butcher shop of choice. You might need to start getting your meat somewhere else.

"Um," you say, voice coming out weaker than you'd like. "Thank you for all this, ma'am. I'm sorry for the trouble."

She waves one hand dismissively as she pulls into your neighborhood. "Don't even mention it, sweetheart. We'll talk more once we're inside."

"But…"

A single firm look shuts you up.

How Noya got to be the way he is with a mom like that, you'll never understand.

"Oh, that reminds me," Noya blurts suddenly. "You don't remember what happened, right?"

You shake your head. "I mostly remember stuff after it… I think? It's all kinda soup right now."

"Shouyo was trying to sync up with Suga-san. He, uh, he managed to hit a spike, but it was a little out."

"A little."

"Just a bit."

"It's kind of impressive. I mean, I knew you guys—or I guess everyone else, you being a libero and all—hit hard, but Hinata's got an arm on him to concuss me like that."

The car slows to a stop as Noya laughs. He seems to be making an effort to be quieter than normal—you appreciate the thought. "Right? Poor Yachi-san's gonna be shaking like a leaf while you're out, though."

"I'm counting on Shimizu-senpai to keep her from getting her head taken off," you reply with a solemn nod, moving to get out of the car.

Noya stops you with a firm hand. "Wait here. I got you."

"I can walk, you know—"

"If the way you got out of the hospital was any sign, not well," he says. He zips out of the car, circles around so fast that anyone else probably would have tripped. You sigh, smiling, as he opens your door for you. "C'mon, let me help you."

"Fine, fine. You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Still, you let him guide you inside, an arm supporting you at the waist. You won't lie—you are really dizzy still. He brings you into the living room, taking slow, careful steps as you pass the kitchen by. Someone's inside, cooking something, based on the sizzle from within, but Noya takes you right on past to sit across from his mom, who's still pretty staunchly silent as she watches this take place.

Out of the context of the butcher shop, she makes you deeply nervous, itching for her approval.

You blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"I really like your shop. It's always very clean."

She cracks a smile. "Thank you, [surname]-chan. I'm glad to know that one of my regulars thinks highly of the shop."

"And the prices are really good. And you're always really nice, but it doesn't feel forced. I'm sorry that sometimes I buy too much and the meat goes bad. I always feel really guilty when that happens, like I'm insulting the animal it came from and the person I bought it from, not to mention—"

She stifles a laugh. "Honey, it's okay. I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous. To be honest, I've been thinking about your situation since I got the call yesterday, and I'm still not sure what the right thing to do is."

The words your situation send your heart straight into the deepest pits of your stomach. "Oh."

Noya's sat firmly beside you, a small comfort as your anxiety begins to spike. His mom locks eyes with him, jerking her chin toward the kitchen. "Yuu, honey, go help Mei in the kitchen."

"But, Okaa-san—"

"Go help Mei," she repeats.

You have half a mind to run out after him, half a mind to grab his sleeve and beg, Noya-senpai, don't leave me alone with her!, but you know it wouldn't do a thing. Instead, you stare at your lap, willing your bottom lip not to quiver.

"Yuu told me a little bit about your situation," she goes on to say.

That fucking phrase again.

"He didn't tell me much, and he's made clear that you don't want anyone to worry about you, or any sort of special treatment, but I want to make clear: I'm not here to upend your life or force anything on you, but you're safe here. Will you tell me what's going on at home?"

You bite your lip to remind yourself not to cry out the gate. "I'd rather not."

"That's okay. I understand that I'm more or less a stranger to you. I don't need details from you, or a life story. But—look at me—"

You look up at her, teary-eyed.

"—I need to know that if, when you're recovered enough to be left alone, I let you go home, you're going to be safe."

"O-of course!" you say, too quickly even though you're not lying. "I'm going—I'm going to be safe. Even if Otoo-san wanted to—to hurt me, he's never home to do it."

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes. He—he gave me a debit card to use and there's always money in the account. I mean, it hasn't declined or anything so far. And I know how to cook and grocery shop. And now that I'm managing for the volleyball club, I've gotten really good at meal prepping. Oh—can I go home sometime tonight or tomorrow? I have curry that I should freeze."

She looks at you with sad eyes. "I can't let you go by yourself, but I can come with you, or you can go with Yuu tonight. Since you'll be staying here for a few nights, we can take the chance to pick up some necessities for you, too."

"Okay. Thank you."

"We'll go after dinner."

"Okay."

"And, listen, [surname]-chan. You are always welcome here, okay? Even if it's perfectly safe at your house, even if you just want to come and play with the cat, you're welcome here."

"Okay."

She watches you another moment. When she leaves the room, she ruffles your hair.

It takes you approximately three seconds after that to break.

~

You've never been so glad to see Noya. He practically runs to your side once he's released, immediately pulling you into a warm hug. You cry into his shoulder, wind your arms around him.

"Sorry. I tried to slip back out here just in case, but Mei literally held me back. She scruffed me like a cat when I tried to leave the kitchen. You would've laughed."

You let out a wet laugh. "Wish I saw it."

"I really am sorry. I know she can be intense, but I swear it's just because she cares."

"She wasn't—she wasn't intense or anything," you admit. "Just—you've got a good mom. She really is cool."

"She is! She's great. What did she do?"

You bury your face in his shoulder in the hopes that it'll muffle your voice a bit. "Just—just motherly stuff, I guess. Asked if I'm safe. If I've got everything I need."

"You are safe at home, right?"

"Yes! I dunno why everyone thinks that—that—"

He strokes your hair as you sniffle, gives you the moment to collect yourself.

"I'm safe," you finish lamely. "I am. I don't like it when people care about me. I dunno what to do with that."

"You're gonna have to get used to that one, unfortunately. The team's worried about you, too, you know? They wouldn't start practice until I gave them the full report."

"Oh great, worry. That's even worse than caring."

"If it bothers you, you're just gonna have to work really hard at resting and accepting the help you're being given so you can get better quicker."

"Okay." You sniffle. "I'll do that."

He holds you closer, holds you until you've calmed down. Stays by your side until dinner's ready, until you're ready to face his family.

~

Mei is weird compared to everyone else at the table. The whole family has showed for this dinner you've intruded on—Satsuki smiles at you when she gets home, whispers an apology when her shouted I'm home! makes you wince. Another sister—the stalker sister, Kaede, if you remember correctly—emerges from a room deeper in the house when called, paint smudged on her cheeks and hands somehow perfectly immaculate. She's lower-key than Satsuki or Noya is, but when you're all sat around the table, she launches right into some debate with Satsuki that their grandfather immediately joins in on, lively and at a lowered volume out of respect for you.

You eat in silence. You'd like to pretend that you're paying attention to whatever heated debate is going on, but it's a little hard to follow past the dull throbbing in your skull. You think maybe the crying made your headache worse.

While the others get lost in some lively conversation or another—Noya going quiet occasionally to check in with you—the sister third just sits there, like you, except you have the excuse of being an active concussion case to justify your silence. She watches you with a nervous look in her eye that doesn't seem to fade whenever you glance back at her.

You can't remember which sister Noya said gets the anxiety attacks—if he said it—but you'd be willing to bet it was Mei.

The one Soba saved.

She won't stop staring at you. On a better day, you might have more tact, but, well, the concussion, so the next time you catch her eye, you stare right back. "Why are you staring at me?"

She jolts, shoulders collapsing in on her. "Sorry. I just… you're Yuu's friend?"

"Uh, yeah." That should be obvious, but you should also be nicer.

"I'm not really, uh, I'm not great at talking to people. But he was saying we'd probably get along, and I was trying to figure out why, but you don't really talk much, so it's hard to get a read on you? But I'm not really great with strangers or anything, and… I mean… d-do you like volleyball? You're a manager in Yuu's club, right?"

A nod. "Yeah. I'm finally kind of at the point where I understand what's going on, and it's fun to watch, but I can't say I'm really good at managing or anything."

"What?" Noya interrupts. "No, you're amazing. What are you talking about?"

You raise an eyebrow. "How have you completely missed the part where I am the single least useful manager? Shimizu-senpai's amazing, Yachi-san's doing all these cool, professional-looking posters and stuff, and I show up. Which I now do not even do, on account of getting hit in the head by a stray ball like it's my first time in the gym."

"I don't wanna hear it from the only reason I passed my final exams."

"Excuse me? I didn't take the exams for you. You did that—and all the studying—yourself. So did Tanaka-senpai, before you bring him up."

"And Shouyo and Kageyama?"

"They took their own exams, too. All of you guys passed because you put in the work."

"You made like, a hundred practice exams. You sent them home after they got their grades back with detailed study schedules. Weren't you, like, adjusting their practice exams to focus on testing the things they got wrong the previous day or something, too?"

"That's nothing. That's literally just like, stuff they probably could have done online if they'd thought about it."

"But they didn't. You did. You don't get to put Yachi-san up on a pedestal just to say you're doing nothing when you factually are—"

You bat at his shoulder playfully. "I literally have a concussion, you're not allowed to argue with me until I'm better."

"Fine, I'll restart this argument the second you're back at school, then," he teases.

You hate him. (You don't.)

You return your attention to Mei. "Sorry, someone likes to fight me."

"When have I ever—"

You reach out blindly, covering his mouth with your hand and smiling at Mei. "But yeah, I don't dislike volleyball, for sure. It's good to get out of the house, and all that. What about you? What do you do?"

Her face brightens a little. "Oh, I'm actually in university! I'm taking a course to become a librarian. It's probably not all that interesting, though, so…"

You lean forward a little, smile encouragingly. When you release Noya's mouth, he has the good sense not to continue the argument. "No, tell me about it. That sounds really cool!"

Bingo. She relaxes into the conversation, starts telling you all about the stuff she's learning, how much more librarians do beyond putting books on the shelf and scanning your library cards. She has a lot to say on the subject, and you don't really follow a lot of it, but you nod encouragingly and try your best. It's not even anything complicated, she's just a little hard to understand through the pounding in your head and the fatigue settling firmly over your body.

When dinner's over, your attempts to help clean are met with no less than six stern looks. You reach for your phone thoughtlessly, which only makes your head pound harder within seconds of checking your notifications.

Right. No screens.

Fine then. You wander into the living room, where Soba greets you with a soft mrrp?.

"Hi, baby," you coo, coming to sit nearby. She's picky about when she likes to be pet, so you don't reach for her, no matter how much you want to. Instead, you sit back and watch her, pushing a cat toy her way as a peace offering. Her eyes lock on, pupils widening as she focuses on the toy.

You have her attention.

By the time Noya finds you, both you and Soba are thoroughly engrossed in her quest to fucking murder this cat toy, and you've only got one new scratch to show for it. For a moment, you can almost ignore the pounding in your head, but then you hear a dish clatter in the kitchen and for just a moment you swear to god it's a gunshot that's perfectly hit you in the forehead.

He crouches beside you, gently takes the toy to distract Soba. "Kaa-san says you wanted to run back by your place to grab some stuff and freeze your curry."

"Y-yeah," you grit out with a nod.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to go now, but, well…" He nods to you. "You kinda look like your head's about to split open."

"'M fine," you grumble. "Let's go."

"You are actively tearing up."

"What? No I'm not—" Your hand flies to your cheek, and dammit, he's right. "…fine."

"It's okay. Kaa-san's gonna be home with you tomorrow while I'm at school, and she can take you then."

Your lip juts into a pout. "I haven't even done anything today."

"I know, I know. You got Mei to like you, though. That's something!"

"Didn't feel like I was doin' anything."

"C'mon. You can take my room, and I can get you some pajamas from Satsuki or Mei, or you can just borrow some of my clothes. But you should get some rest."

You groan as he helps you to your feet. "Please don't make me make any decisions right now."

"My clothes it is, then. Great! I was hoping you'd say that!"

He guides you down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Where're you gonna sleep if I'm stealin' your bedroom?" you mumble.

"We already moved my futon out. This way, you're in the quietest part of the house."

"Really. Your bedroom is the quietest part of the house?" Somehow, you don't believe that for a second.

"Well, when I'm not in it, it is," he grins.

"And you completely dodged the question."

"Well, they've decided that in order to take you in until you're better, someone had to go, so… I'm so sorry, [name]-san. Remember me fondly."

You snort. "They are not kicking you out."

"They're not. My futon's getting laid out near the door so if you need something you can yell."

"Please at least sleep on the couch downstairs or something."

"Absolutely not. When I hit a thousand, I want to already be a man worth marrying you! That means being there when you're hurt!"

You huff. You don't have the energy to fight it, at any rate. "Sure, sure. You know you don't have to do much to be worth me?"

"I'm going to choose to believe you mean that you already think I'm amazing and cool and not that you're trying to put yourself down."

"Believe what you want," you sigh.

Inside his bedroom is surprisingly clean. The Nishinoya family seems to have done plenty of planning for this, so you'd be surprised if there hadn't been a crazed cleanup session to deep-clean his bedroom once they decided that was where you'd be sleeping. Some posters on the wall, one spot where a poster conspicuously used to be, based on the tack still marking the corners of a perfect rectangle in between two others. It's basically exactly what you'd expect if you deep-cleaned a teenage boy's bedroom. Noya leaves your side to rummage his drawers, returning a moment later with clothes for you.

"You're good to get changed by yourself, right? Not too dizzy or anything? I can grab Satsuki—no, bad idea—I can grab Mei if you need some help."

You shake your head. "I'll be okay. The dizzy's way better than it was this morning, 'sjust painful."

"I'll wait outside, then."

You wait for him to close the door behind him before you get changed, stumble a little in the process because you were totally downplaying how dizzy you were, but eventually get yourself into the provided t-shirt and basketball shorts. When Noya returns, he stops short in the doorway, staring at you rather openly as you tug a bit at the shirt.

You raise an eyebrow at him. His cheeks are scarlet as he stares you down.

"Are you sure I'm the one with the concussion?" you ask when you're fed up with the quiet. "You seem to be rebooting."

"Marry me," he blurts again. "I mean—sorry, bad timing probably, but—nevermind—"

"Nine hundred and—huh." You bite your lip thoughtfully, racking your brain, but the focus only makes your head pound worse. "Did you propose at all yesterday? I can't really remember."

"Oh, yeah, nine hundred and twenty times or so. I've just got twenty more to go!"

"Uh-huh. What's the actual count?"

"…nine hundred and forty to go," he admits. "Once with the morning greeting, and I got a couple out when you agreed to help me with the jump set."

"Nine thirty-nine, then," you say as he moves to lay out the futon. As he does, you watch his arms flex appreciatively. Maybe it's the concussion, but you can't quite seem to pull your eyes away. "You know. As thanks for helping me out with everything, and all that."

"Not just because I'm nice to look at?" he pouts.

"Keep dreaming, Casanova."

You allow yourself one last impulse for the night, stopping him on the way out the door. "Hey, Senpai?"

He turns just in time for you to crash into him in a hug. "Wh—"

"Thank you. Seriously. For… for not letting stuff get out with the guys. And taking care of me. And… and everything."

Noya huffs softly, arms wrapping around you in turn. "I got you. You just rest."

You don't need him to tell you twice.

Footnotes

27. Fun fact: I wrote this section by texting myself on discord each of the Reader's individual replies with my glasses off. If a particular exchange seemed too clean, I added one or two to balance it out, keeping in mind this girl is typing with the kind of headache that demands answers from the gods themselves. I like to think I did a decent job of it.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish