#she sleeps like a whole boulder

[lazy-plankton89]

that one girl that apparently just slept throughout the movie's plot???? HOW

[backinmyphase]

Not the whole truth

Synopsis: You didn't know why, but Satoru Gojo was acting different than usual and not in a good way. Well, your husband was sure that you were lying to him.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3100 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups, much Angst, trowing up, mention of curses

I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit later than usual, I was feeling a bit sick and fitting with the chapter I threw up :') But I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment, I love to read your thoughts!

"Were you expecting a letter?"

Your husband Satoru Gojo doesn't even look at you as he speaks. Instead his face is expressionless, like a mask he was wearing. Almost like your mother.

He was acting so different from yesterday, it was scary. Did you cross a line?

"No, why? Did a letter come?"

His voice isn't heared a couple of seconds, until he spoke again. "Yeah, from your mother."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen as his words sunk in. She knew. She knew where you were. The house wasn't yours anymore, she knew. How? Since when? HOW?

Satoru's head rose and his eyes suddenly seemed so far away. Like an ocean you will never cross. Cold, like the icebergs in the Antarctica. Not like anytime you saw them before.

"Oh really?"

You kept your voice steady as you took a grape from the offered lunch of the hotel.

"Yeah, here." he slided the piece of paper across the small table to you. Your name written in the handwriting you knew so well. "Does she write you regularly?"

Your mind froze as you thought back. Yeah, she did. But not because of the reason he thought she did. Not because she was worried about her precious daughter. No, more like she worried about her hopefully grandson.

You just nodded and wanted to open the letter as his warm hand grabbed yours.

For a moment he seemed approachable. His eyes bigger than before he looked at you with almost desperation in those deep eyes.

"Are you really close with her?"

The piece of paper sank deep into your skin as you looked at him. What should you do? You couldn't let him know, your mother would kill you! But...

It was so hard when he looked at you like that.

Your hands fiddled with the piece of the paper and drew your whole attention. They were twitching. You wanted to rip them out.

"Yes, I am." the lie left your mouth like a rock falling down a mountain. Fast but not safe. "Didn't I tell you that already?"

His eyes and mind closed from you eight in front of your eyes. You could see his emotions being pushed down and his body sitting up straight.

"Well, then." he stood up to go to the bathroom. "Could you tell me later what was written inside?"

You just nodded as he left. What happened since yesterday? What did you do? How did you get in this situation?

+:★:+*━━━ A bit ago ━━━*+:★:+*

The bed was cold. So so cold. Your consciousness slowly grew as you shivered at the unexpected coldness under the covers of the big bed.

He wasn't here.

Did you wake up early than usual? Normally he would wake you by accidentally being a bit louder when he came back from his round around the town. But Satoru didn't seem in sight.

Your body had the usual heaviness it was yesterday freed from. It wasn't easy to leave the bed but you wanted to get up.

You felt terrible.

The tiredness became unreal. Why couldn't you just be well rested after that much sleep? It felt like a boulder pressed your body down and chained you to the bed. Your body seemed so lazy.

Legs heavy, you slowly made your way to the bathroom. The clock surprising you.

10:24?

That couldn't be right. No, Satoru should have showed up by that already! And you surely haven't slept that much! Right?

As you looked at your things you needed to get ready, you sighed. There it was like every morning. The hairpin of your mother, your wedding present.

Why did you even take it with you? Yes, it was pretty but the guilt that came with it was far more influence. And you didn't even use it!

It almost seemed to look at you disappointed.

Your exhaustion was really getting out of hand! Maybe you should talk to Hina's grandmother for advice against sleeping problems...

As you began to brush your teeth, you this feeling of uneasiness began to creep up your back. Slowly, like a someone was watching you. Like something will happen...

The sound of the door opening made you cough up your toothpaste.

"Er, phew! Satoru?" you called over your shoulder while washing your face.

"Yeah?"

"Did you have trouble?" you dried your face trying to get your eyes to open properly. "You're later than usual."

He kept quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

The silence after that wasn't like the silence yesterday. It was awkward, you didn't know what to say. You couldn't explain it, but he sounded different. He didn't sound like smiling.

"I'm going down to eat lunch." his voice got a bit more quiet and moved away. "I didn't get anything."

"Okay." you didn't know what was happening, but something was wrong. The comfort of yesterday wasn't seen in any corner, didn't matter how much you searched for it.

Oh, god you did something wrong, didn't you?

+:★:+*━━━ Now ━━━*+:★:+*

Your letter weighed heavy in your hand. And as you opened it, the weight only seemed to grow.

Dear daughter,

I hope this letter finds you enjoying yourself. Well, after all that's what you so desperately seem to want. You can count yourself lucky, your slip up is being forgiven. The higher ups seem to be of the opinion that you acted for the greater good and just didn't think. That you wanted to take action in the matter heir.

They expect that you will expect a child when you come back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were. Your vacation isn't frowned upon, as long you don't forget why you took it.

Enjoy your days, Sincerely, your mother.

On the back was the date of your next meeting engraved. She didn't write you anything else. You felt like throwing up.

Taking action in the matter heir? Expecting a child? You weren't close to anything like that!

What would they do to you, if they find out? No, when they find out? What will your mother say?

The table full of things to eat was suddenly all grey. You didn't feel hungry anymore, even though you didn't eat much.

Tears began to form in your eyes. You couldn't help it. The reality of what you were supposed to do came crushing down on you, making no room for the lightness of yesterday.

You desperately rubbed your eyes, trying to stop the tears but it was no use.

You couldn't show yourself like this to Satoru.

Your room didn't have the thickest walls, he would hear you in the bathroom. So you moved to the bathroom for the guests that weren't staying over the night and tried to calm down.

What were you supposed to tell Satoru?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru knew that he should have given you both letters. But there was this uneasiness in the room with all these questions.

Why did these old hags even write you?

He couldn't explain it to himself. And he wanted to open the letter so bad to find the answer. But...

He didn't want to open letters that were for you. That felt so wrong. Like he was using your trust and god he didn't want you to be mad at him again.

But did you even trust him?

If you did, why were you lying to him? You seemed to have anything but a good relationship with your mother. But when he asked you, you insisted that you did. Two times.

Your face as you looked at the letter wasn't screaming happiness. No, it was confusion and even something like fear.

Did you think you could fool him?

The mirror was fogged as he left the shower. He felt uneasy. Like he wasn't seeing something he should.

Sighing, he started to get ready. Maybe he was over thinking. Maybe you did have a good relationship with your mother. You did have meetings with her a couple of times.

Which were really long...

The meetings?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You don't look well. Are you okay?"

In fact you looked like you had cried. But you didn't seem to show that to him, meaning you smiled at him like that would be a prove.

"Yeah, don't worry."

He couldn't stand this charade that you played now. But he decided to play along. "What did she write to you?"

"Oh, the usual. I should greet you from my mother. She wished us a good honeymoon and that we would enjoy our time." the laugh that followed was more than forced.

He felt his patience slipping away. "I thought she didn't like me?"

You looked at him like he was speaking another language. "I mean yeah-, but your still my husband which she respects." the fastness with wich you spoke gave you away.

You were nervous. Why were you this nervous in his presence?

"Ah."

"Are you okay?" you looked at him with a frown. "You seem on edge."

Oh and how he was on edge. Who wasn't, when they knew they were being lied to?

"Yeah, just a bit stressed." he couldn't help but look at the letter in your hands. "Have the feeling there is a curse nearby."

"A curse?" your eyes were grewing big. "Here?"

"I will look for it later." he was sure he needed some time alone after this. "We can go to the restaurant some other time, right?"

You nodded, a terrified look in your eyes. "Of course!" you stood up. "I should go to our room, I don't want to hinder your work."

"Wait."

Now or never.

"I wanted to ask you something."

You stopped. Your tense back to him. "What is it?"

"Did the higher-ups bother you with something? Regarding our marriage?" he cleared his throat. "Just curious."

You didn't look at him, just muttered a small 'No' and 'Is there anything else?'

He let you go upstairs. Now he was sure of it. You kept something from him. And this something was in those letters.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru was out for hours.

You were worried about him. He seemed so out of it this morning. And then these questions...

Was he onto something?

You couldn't afford his mistrust. Not when your whole purpose is making an heir!

That sounded so wrong.

You looked at the books on your night table he bought for you. They were all a bit different. Some a different genre. Like he wanted to make sure you had at least on book that you would like.

You hated yourself for lying to this man.

You sighed as the usual tiredness overcame you again. Grabbing a book you read. Just wanting to forget this morning.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was late. The moon was already up and as he went up the stairs he knew that you would already be in bed.

He canceled your reservation.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to ho there anymore. Not after he read what these douchbags were writing you.

Not after he knew what you kept from him.

He opened the door slowly and careful trying not to wake you. You were curled up on the bed, you seemed to shiver.

On the table next to you the second letter.

"Satoru, is that you?" your teeth were chattering.

"Yeah, it's just me."

He felt so dumb as he looked at you. So dumb for thinking you could just have a normal honeymoon, when you weren't even in love.

"Need your warmth." you sniffled. "Please?"

He was fighting with himself. He didn't want to invade your personal space, not after reading all of that. Not when you thought of it like it was your duty to-

He shivered just thinking about it.

But at the same time he didn't want you to be cold. And how could he deny his darling wife?

"I'm coming." very carefully he laid himself next to you, trying to avoid touching you, just carefully hugging you. "Is that better?"

You seemed to sleep already.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was so cold.

Your body felt like being pushed around, everything seemed to spin. Your hands felt frozen, like they didn't were under the covers.

Your throat was dry and something sticky seemed to make itself home in it. The force that held your eyes closed was so strong.

The spinning didn't seem to end.

Wait, a second... It didn't just feel like your body moved, it did!

With much willpower you forced your eyes to open and slowly turned around. And your blood seemed to freeze with your body.

There was Satoru sleeping but had a frown on his face. And a distance between you. But not because he moved, you were pushed back. By something you couldn't see. By infinity.

...

You forced yourself up, away from the bed. Everything started to make sense. He wasn't comfortable in your presence. After yesterday he searched for distance, even in his subconsciousness.

You were to pushy, god, why were you so pushy?!

Slowly you took steps back, trying to get away from the invisible wall that so clearly pushed you away. Almost stumbling you went into the bathroom.

01:24

Kinda ironic.

As you looked in the mirror you gasped. You looked like a corpse. Your fingers in the light even a bit blue. Panic started to rise and pushed you onte the ground.

Spit began to collect in your mouth and your stomach twisted. Your head was so heavy as you slided over to the toilet.

And then it just fell all out.

Your stomach twisting and turning, the pain slowly leaving but your eyes were burning even more.

It seemed to go for hours as you sat there. Defeated, so so powerless.

You felt disgusting.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You didn't know how, but somehow you collected all your pieces and cleaned everything before falling onto the couch.

It was harder then the bed, but that didn't bother you anymore. The distance between you was far more important now.

He seemed to sleep so peaceful now.

He had moved since you stood up. God, now you were the one watching him sleep, you should get your act together.

But even though you were so so tired, you couldn't sleep.

Your surrounding seemed to watch you and the uneasy feeling from the morning came doubled back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were.

They knew where you were. They could just come. Maybe even tomorrow. And even though you knew that would be unreasonable, the fear didn't leave.

You wanted to cry. But it was so cold.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was early than usual. Satoru was still sleeping as your eyes opened. Your body was heavy but the feeling of disgust with yourself made you move.

Normally you wouldn't go downstairs, you would hjust read. But you didn't want to be there when he woke up. No that would be unbearable.

So you went into the bathroom again, the crime scene of the night nowhere in sight. The hairpin waiting for you on the counter like it was ready to stab you.

A laugh escaped your lips.

Your mother really couldn't leave you alone, even now she stole herself into your thoughts.

Why were you even here?

Trying to get away from all of these curses in this hotel room, you hurried as you stepped the staircase down. You really needed a light chat with Hina's grandmother.

And some tips against bad sleeping.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru hadn't slept so bad in a long time. He turned and turned but couldn't get any good position. And he was sure that that couldn't be normal.

Normally he had a rhythm in his sleep. Get the minimum that you need and get up. He normally had to work after all.

But now his thoughts just couldn't shut up.

He woke up much later than usual. And he knew something was wrong when his six eyes were tired.

You weren't in the room.

The room was so coldly empty, his thoughts almost were silent. But only for a short time, they began to circle around the thing that was bugging him, even in his dreams.

Your lying.

And he knew he shouldn't, he knew that what he was doing was maybe much much worse than just lying but the letter from your mother was right next to him on the night table.

"Didn't I tell you that already?"

Fuck it. Maybe this was unreasonable, but he had to live with you for the rest of his life. And he hated secrets.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"Oh, Mrs. Gojo you look like you didn't sleep well, is everything alright?" the sweet elderly woman looked concerned as you sat down in front of her.

"Just trouble with sleeping. Do you have any tips?"

Her concern only grew in her eyes. "Well I drink warm milk before sleeping, I can bring you a cup every evening, if you want?"

You smiled at her. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She just nodded, hesitant smiling back. "It's naturally."

She brought you a hot chocolate, while she handled the organization of the guests. Turning the pages in the guestlist she spoke again.

"Were you happy to receive the letters?"

"Oh yeah, my mother is always a surprise." you began to chuckle a bit, but it died down in your sticky throat as you realized what she has just said.

"Oh I can relate! I write Hina always a couple of letters at the same time!" the woman chuckled a bit. "But I thought the two letters were from different people?"

"Oh they were." you tried to keep your composure even though the panic mixed with lots of anger made it really hard for you.

Really Satoru?

Two letters?

Taglist (if you want to be added just say so):

@zoeyflower @bubera974 @ssetsuka @lady-of-blossoms @peqch-pie

@karlaolea @slut-for-fictional-men @tnt-kokoo @gojoscumslut @sillyfreakfanparty

@tbzzluvr

@emi311 @the-number7 @o-ikawaii @doodle-cat16 @yozora7154

@levisfavoriteteashop @roscpctals99 @starlightglimmersworld @manyuyuu

@dahliawarner @aliisinwonderland @lov3vivian @inthedarkshadows000

@haikyuusimpsblog @sheismaryy @asahinasstuff @honeydew-cheesecake

@sanriosatoru @kimsrie @444na0m1 @humongousdreamlandbear

@elitesanjisimp @dummyf @elernity

@s4ikooo1 @roseyposeylemonsquozey @shitforbrainsmal

@mo0nforme @local-mr-frog @lovemiss-vale @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @meowforluv @rirk-ke

@certainduckanchor @uknowimdumb @smolbeanzzz @deliciouslydeliciouspenguin

@bloopsstuff @rnriz @saihar4s @m3ntally-unstable @feyrfly

@ughbitchasspussy @cherubsptals @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @thatglamourist

@kujofam @sakusas-sugarbaby @konigswifeyforlifey @duh-nik

@alinasromanova @miizuzu @cgmajor @reactwithjan @mereniss

@seungminsapuppy @junslay @melonmako @staarflowerr

@kiarathace @ghost-buddies @poopypipi @somestardeww

@oneofthesevensins @teramisuyhin @bloomingwitch @tedbunny333

@berryjuicyy @pretty-bandzz @itspapachulo @mo0sin

[gloomskulls]

LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

warning(s): dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

summary: For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

[space-matt]

Could I request a Matt x reader.They have been dating for a while but the reader has never left that honey moon stage.One day Matt is not having a good day and the readers presence make him on edge.He ends up blowing up on her calling her overbearing and clingy.Things shift and she becomes more distant,for a while he feels ok but he starts to miss the relationship they way it was before.when he tries to talk to the reader she cries to him about the whole situation.He is really sorry and does his best to make it up to her.

I’ll make it up to you 

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: It's really true that you understand the value of things when you lose them.. Matt figured it out too late, but will he be able to make up for it?

request: yes 

author’s note: thank u so much for the request!! I hope you’ll enjoy it ♡ I added the song that helped me to write it. For everything I’m here!

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

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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

revised

Still lying in bed you feel the heat coming from the window left half open in Matt’s room, with your eyes closed you stretch by turning to the other side meeting a boulder of a blanket, you reach out your hand in search of your favorite person but to your surprise, your hand leans on the mattress, so you open your eyes trying to focus and notice that half of the bed is empty.

You've been together for seven months and thirteen days now, and you have to say that they are the best months of your life; Having never had previous relationships, it can be said that Matt is your first true and actual relationship in your 20 years of life. 

Everything had started as a pure joke between you two to make fun of Chris and his girlfriend Maddy, but the more time passed, the more you began to feel real feelings towards the boy who unlike you had liked you for a long time, but for fear of being considered only and solely a friend, he wanted to avoid putting his heart in the foreground and listening to the rational part of his brain. 

But fate wanted that one evening while you were saying goodbye to go to your own house, the moment you were about to press a kiss against his cheek, Matt turned earlier than expected causing your lips to collide, making you immediately move away but when you stopped to look into his eyes you saw in both of them a spark to burst a breathless kiss.

It must be said, from that moment you have been together, indeed perhaps precisely because it is your first relationship that you try to always make everything go for the best unlike Matt who still had his first relationships during his adolescence that, however, according to him, ''they can't compete with you''. Of course, it scares you that sooner or later it may get bored or otherwise lose interest in you, but you still try to eliminate this thought and be the best girlfriend in the world. 

So you get out of bed by completely opening the window so that the room can change air, leaving the bed undone; Take your change in the drawer that Matt has free so that you can put some of your things when you stay at his house to sleep, and you head to the next bathroom without noticing who is in the open space connected by a small corridor to his room.

Meanwhile Matt was lying on the sofa, the TV turned on in the background, with the phone in his hand looking at the various social networks but his mind was elsewhere, indeed the day had started in the wrong direction.

All night you did nothing but stay attached to him not making him move, which didn't make him sleep a wink and that's why he was quite nervous.

His brothers were still in their respective rooms changing, as they would then be out all day under your precise instructions, as you wanted to spend a day entirely with Matt before leaving for spring break in two weeks. 

When Nick and Chris find themselves in the living room ready to go out, Matt pulls up his head ''Do we have any meetings today?'' He asks confused getting up and putting the phone in his pocket ''The two of us yes, you have the day off today.. enjoy it'' Chris replies with a grin on his face which vanishes when he hears a puff from him ''Wow I didn't expect all this enthusiasm��'' exclaims ironic Nick going to the door of the house ''Please let me come with you, I need to disconnect, I need air'' Matt responds whispering so as not to be heard by you ''Sorry MattyB but no'' says Chris taking a can of Pepsi from the fridge and then he goes out too.

Another puff comes out of his lips knowing he has to stay with you all day, and resignedly throws himself back on the couch closing his eyes.

When he feels your steps approaching a sense of annoyance and nervousness pervades his body, he can't even understand the reason for all this but it's already been a couple of days that he just wants to have a moment for him, but with you in the middle it's almost completely impossible.

On the other hand, you do not notice anything different, perhaps because taken by too much love even the most obvious things go unnoticed by your eyes in the shape of a little heart. 

All happy you go to the kitchen take water pouring it into a glass, you notice Matt on the sofa, you leave the glass on the counter and go in his direction lowering yourself to his height ''Babe, let's go out for breakfast?'' you ask trying to caress his hair but at your touch, he moves by sitting down looking at you ''I can't, I have to go out'' he responds annoyed without even looking at you, leaving you a little surprised but doesn't give up trying with a ''Then when you come back we can go for a ride at Lake Hollywood Park, right?'' hopeful in one of his answers but the only thing he pronounces is a ''See you later'' without greeting you and leaving the house, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room. 

The hours go by and so does your enthusiasm, you start thinking about the worst situations in your mind, which do nothing but increase your paranoia;

Okay maybe you recognize that in the last period, you have always been with them but although it has been almost a year since you moved to Los Angeles, you have not been able to make many friends due to your armor that you tend to raise when it comes to new people. But with Nick, Chris, and Matt it's different, you've known them since you were little, and with them, there was never a need to create a wall to protect you, because they are your guardian angels.

You've always gotten along, except for a few quarrels which is normal, but you've never noticed before behaviors so distant from Matt, as if your presence wasn't welcome.

When you hear the door open you hope that your boyfriend's figure will come out of the stairs but you recognize the voices of Chris and Nick, you resign yourself completely on the couch with your pajamas and the tray of ice cream on your legs.

''Ookay... why are you at home? Didn't you have to go out?'' Nick asks looking at you confused ''By the way where is Matt?'' Keep looking around ''I have no idea'' you answer him in a subtle voice while you eat a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, you feel the tears stop at the corners of your eyes, so you don't see you turn your head on the other side putting the teaspoon in the tray ''He came out this morning and never came back, I tried to text him and call him a couple of times but I didn't receive an answer'' you keep whispering closing your eyes making the tears fall.

You feel the package of ice cream being removed from your legs and two arms that surround you, from the essence that envelops you, you recognize that is Chris and with your eyes still closed you abandon yourself in a liberating cry after holding it all day ''Shh, it's okay'' he whispers massaging your back ''You know that now and then he has its relapses and behaves like this'' he keeps trying to reassure you.

You pull up with your nose and detach yourself from his arms ''But with me, he had never behaved this way.. at all he always came to me'' you explain looking in his direction receiving almost an expression of pity on his face ''What do you say if we order something and watch a movie here all together? We will make you choose'' announces trying to cheer you up But on your part, he only receives a nod with your head.

Even though he had spent the whole day outside walking around the crowded streets of Santa Monica, his mind did nothing but think about the time to get home, the only thought of having you always stuck made him take his breath away, of course he cared you but this so much physical contact, at that time, was leading him to detach himself from everything, but especially from you.

That's why he had waited for a late time to come back, so as not to have to face you trying to postpone everything to the day of your departure. But you know how his thought works more than yourself, in this way after finishing watching your comfort movie together with the two boys, you decide not to go to sleep right away but to stay on the couch not being able to stay alone in bed without Matt by your side, with the knowledge of having done something wrong. 

The fact that there was no communication between the two of you was new, you have always been the anchor of each other, and not being it in a short time has completely upset you, especially not understanding how to act, and consequently how to find a solution. 

The silence that reigns in the house is broken by the noise of the keys that are inserted into the door patch, your heart begins to beat quickly but you remain motionless sitting with your gaze turned in his direction, while he tries to slowly climb the entrance stairs but when it reaches the last one, he stops seeing you pulling his eyes up ''you shouldn’t have waited up for me, there was no need'' he says changing towards the fridge taking a bottle of water but no longer being able to hold back your thoughts for you ''What have I done? It's all day that you avoid me indeed it's days that you behave strangely'' you blurt out getting up to get closer to him, and given your height difference you are forced to pull up your head to look him better in the eyes.

As you stand in front of Matt, you can feel the bitterness in his words cutting deep into your heart. "What did you do to me?" he asks, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "There's that you've become overbearing and clingy. I can't take it anymore. You're always sticky, I never have a free moment, and if I have it, you're always there" he exclaims with clenched teeth and a hard look.

His words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you take a step back, not believing what you're hearing. "We weren't like that before, and now I understand why no one has ever wanted you" he adds with wickedness, making you feel small and insignificant.

You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. You know what you've been through, and you've always hoped that Matt would understand. But instead, he holds it against you, making you feel like an outcast.

"You're an asshole" you finally manage to say, raising your voice as tears slide down your face. It's not like you to use such harsh words, but you're hurt and angry, and you can't help it.

At that moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you can see the surprise and shock on his face. He had never heard you say such a thing to him. Among all people, it was always you who used a calm tone, even in the most difficult situations.

Seeing you rush into his room, he follows you around, but when he sees that you start to take your bags, he realizes that he has exaggerated. "What do you do?" he asks, trying to take your arm. But with all the anger that you had in your body, in very little, you wriggle from his grip. "Let go of me" you say in a dry tone.

"I'm not going to stay in the room with you anymore. I'll go to Nick's, and I'll bring all my stuff" you finish, closing the zip and dragging the bag on the ground. As you come out of his room, you find yourself facing the two guys who, from the screams, immediately catapulted to see what had happened.

As you ask Nick for help, you feel exhausted and drained from the situation at home. Without even turning to see him, his hand takes the bag from yours and you head up to the room with the older brother. In the distance, you hear Chris saying, "Dude you have already done too much damage, let her be."

Days pass by, but the situation at home remains the same.

After receiving some harsh words, you decide to build a wall between you and Matt and try to avoid being alone with him.

You attempt to behave like a mature person, spending more time with the two brothers and going out on your own when they can't accompany you.

Matt, on the other hand, feels good when you're not around. However, as time passes, guilt starts to creep in, and he realizes that he doesn't want to push away the one person who means the world to him.

He understands this even more when you don't even look at him at the airport and leave without a single glance. "Why did I do wrong to her?" he says to himself as he watches you go through security checks. "Because you're a jerk, that's why" answers Nick, watching him with a serious expression.

Although he regrets his actions, Matt is determined to make things right between you two. Without telling anyone, he packs his backpack with only the bare minimum and heads off to the other side of the country.

Spring break is coming to an end, and leaving your family and friends in Boston again feels like a stab in the heart. This time, it hurts even more because you know that once you get back, you'll have to fend for yourself completely, starting with finding an apartment.

You and your family were having a pleasant evening playing board games when you heard the doorbell ring. "Were you expecting someone?" you asked, moving your pawns on the board. "No, we weren't. Why don't you go and answer it?" your mother replied, gazing at you with a gentle expression. You got up from your spot, a little confused.

As you reached the door, you saw Matt standing outside with a bouquet of your favorite tulips and a puppet with the words <I'm stupid> written on it. The sight of the flowers made you smile, but you didn't let your guard down completely.

''Please, I have to talk to you''

"You have five minutes" you told him as you closed the door behind you and sat on the porch, keeping a distance. He handed you the flowers and the puppet, and you accepted them, putting the flowers next to you and holding the puppet in your hands.

"I'm sorry" he began, fiddling with your fingers. "I know I'm not good with words, but I realize now that I was wrong to say what I said.

I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I just wanted to talk to you and explain my side of things."

He paused, looking down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. You felt your own eyes fill up with tears, too.

"I don't want to lose you" he said, touching your cheek. You closed your eyes and put your hand on his. "I was an asshole, but I understand that now that you're gone."

You spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a low blow. You've never made me feel so small and helpless before. But I have to admit, I've been clingier than usual lately. That's just my way of showing you love, and if you don't like it, we can end it here."

"No way" he said, taking a step closer. "I flew over 2,500 miles to see you and tell you I love you more than anything. We just need to communicate better and make sure we're both happy. I'm here because I want to be and make it up to you." concludes by looking into your eyes '' I love you too... but please let's not hurt ourself anymore'' you leaned your forehead against his and felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

When you pulled away, you grinned and grabbed the puppet. "Would you be him?" you asked, laughing together.

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

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[author-morgan]

Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders, high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory. 

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there. 

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg. 

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling. 

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown. 

You swallow the knot in your throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl. 

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.  

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches. 

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.  

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg. 

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft. 

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead. 

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps. 

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose. 

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it. 

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival. 

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all. 

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found. 

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood. 

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would. 

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog. 

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked. 

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.  

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?” 

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you. 

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason. 

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A FEW MONTHS pass and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight. 

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company. 

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe. 

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him—the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full. 

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

[Game of Thrones taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @Idkjj04 / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @nyotamalfoy / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[cloudedmoonofficial]

Shrewbelly purred with satisfaction as he wrapped up his story about Captain Hawkshell saving a kitten from the hawk that earned her name and reputation as the Soaring Protector. Stark, Red, and Boulder nestled into their soft bedding. Red was barely old enough to understand the story as it was, so he had nodded off early. Stark had fallen asleep halfway through the tale, it was one of her favorite stories and Shrewbelly was sure she had asked for it a dozen times by now, but Boulder managed to make it through to the end of the tale this time. The little fluffy kitten usually got bored after the exciting hawk fight in the middle, but he seemed determined to stay awake through it this time. Mostly because Stark had teased him from not knowing the end. But almost as soon as Shrewbelly finished, Boulder’s eyes dropped closed. The last of his energy had been spent.

“He’s certainly a determined little fellow,” Shrewbelly whispered to Boulder’s mother, Mudtrail. He got a snore in response. It seems she had fallen asleep to his story as well. He couldn’t blame her, the midday sun was leaking into the den and made it the perfect weather to snooze in. Mudtrail shifted and wrapped her tail gently over the kittens. Even though Mudtrail wasn’t Red or Stark’s mother, she loved all the kittens just as much as Shrewbelly did.

His heart did a funny little leap when he thought about Mudtrail’s dedication to the kittens. Most cats in Marsh Colony were happy leaving most of the kitten raising to Shrewbelly, which, as much as he loved them, had been a monumental task as Marsh Colony’s only Keeper in quite some time. 

Stark would be leaving his care soon. She had learned to identify all the marsh dangers quickly and was a very astute learner. She had practiced her night stalking skills to be a real asset of hers. Even with Shrewbelly’s dark coat, Stark always managed to find him quickly. He would miss her, but she promised to visit him often, and Shrewbelly believed she would.

Boulder was a little slower to learn, but once Shrewbelly caught his interest, Boulder was single-minded in achieving his goals. That kind of drive could be dangerous in the Marshlands, but Shrewbelly prayed to the Spirits that the kitten would learn how to temper it.

I just wish I had another cat to help me. Shrewbelly sighed. In the past few years, a few cats had shown interest in taking up the Keeper Path, but none stuck with it. As much as he knew his colony needed him, Shrewbelly also knew that many Marsh Colony cats just weren’t interested in the job. Staying in camp most of the day. Teaching the kittens the history of their Colony. Doing basic drills with the kittens to prepare them for Field training. Any cats interested in training kittens tended to become Mentors instead. 

A part of Shrewbelly knew why. In Marsh Colony, kittens were in the most danger, and their history was littered with terrible stories of kittens getting lost, taken by predators, or drowning in the marsh. Try as they might, the land was dangerous. The Spirits to Come shine on Marsh Colony last, so the Spirits Beyond keep us company instead. It was a dark truth about Marsh Colony’s history that turned many cats away from becoming a Keeper.

Even Shrewbelly’s story for them today was of a kitten, just like them, nearly getting carried off and eaten. And who was there to save them? Not a heroic Keeper. When everything goes right, that’s just a Keeper doing their job. When things go wrong…

“Hey, Shrewbelly?” a small voice pulled Shrewbelly from his thoughts. He didn’t expect anyone else to be awake at this time. Typically the whole Colony was asleep until the dusk patrols began in the evening. 

Shrewbelly quietly pulled himself away from the sleeping cats and walked outside the nursery to see Frostshadow standing there. The white molly looked relieved to see him.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she started. Shrewbelly shook his head. 

“No, I’ve just put the kittens to sleep.” Shrewbelly winced as he saw Frostshadow look longingly into the nursery. He could guess why she was here.

“I know I should be getting rest, but…” Frostshadow’s voice trailed off and Shrewbelly’s heart ached for her. Frostshadow had recently been through a miscarriage of kittens. The young molly had been so excited to become a mother, and had even talked with Shrewbelly about becoming a Keeper once her kittens were born, but after the ordeal, she had spent a long time recovering in the Herbalists' den with Smallpebble. Shrewbelly had done everything he could to try to help Frostshadow before and after with her kittens, but they hadn’t talked about her training to become a Keeper since.

Frostshadow tore her gaze away from the Nursery and took a deep breath. “Mind walking with me for a bit?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Shrewbelly bumped his head to hers softly. She would always have his support, even though he felt pretty sure he knew where this was going.

They walked in silence, it had been a while since Shrewbelly had left the base. The humidity of the marsh midday sun wasn’t pleasant, but he continued forward, patiently waiting for Frostshadow to find the right place to talk. She eventually sat on a log next to the water. Reeds and lily pads peppered the water’s surface but there was just enough space for them to look out into the still water. 

Frostshadow took a deep breath and began. “I want to thank you for everything, Shrewbelly. The Colony doesn’t thank you enough for everything you do.”

Shrewbelly wasn’t expecting that. He thought Frostshadow might hate him for not being able to save her kittens. He stammered. “Well. I uh...I...thank you, Frostshadow....I wish I could have done more.” A tear came to Frostshadow’s eye and she let out a small laugh that quickly turned into a sniffle and frown as she stared back out into the water. “I’m sorry about your kittens.” He finally added.

Frostshadow nodded. “Me too.” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking about where I go from here,” she continued. “About what path I want to take. I always wanted to be a mother, but…”

Shrewbelly waited on baited breath. She would say that she doesn’t want to become a Keeper, not if it meant dealing with hardships like this all the time. Or that she would instead start training to become a Mentor.

��I’ve decided that the Colony needs more cats like you. I still want to train to become a Keeper.” 

Shrewbelly’s jaw dropped. Frostshadow turned to face him and gave him a determined, if pained, smile. He could still see that passion, that fire in her eyes she had before. He smiled back at her and knew that this was truly what she wanted. 

“I just need a bit more time,” she finished. “But I still want to do this. I want to be there and help cats the way you helped me.”

Shrewbelly purred. He would wait however long Frostshadow needed, knowing that he still had her friendship and support, and still wanted to be a Keeper made his heart soar. “Of course! Take the time you need, Frostshadow. You’re going to make a wonderful Keeper!”

“Thank you, Shrewbelly. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

Art by Tennelle

[i-still-got-love-for-you]

hi!

could you please do a reader x jason grace fic were reader was severely injured and barely survives?

(feeling a bit angsty hehe)

Soon You'll Get Better

Jason Grace x gn!reader

910 words

cw: god i hope im doing the angst thing right, there IS fluff bc i would cry if there wasn't, i really hope its gender neutral tell me if it isnt, once again verb tense grammar that might only bother me

a/n: thank you for this request!!! i had so much fun writing it <333 hope you like this!

Rocks were raining down like deadly raindrops from the sky. It was getting harder and harder to dodge them, and your lungs were burning from the running. The Laestrygonians weren't letting up. Percy's story of the "Dodge Ball Game of Hell" came to you at that moment. You were sure this was worse.

You were cursing your godly parent, wishing you had Hermes' gift of speed at that moment. At the risk of slowing down, you looked back t see how close the giants were. They were slowly gaining on you, and a random burst of adrenaline made all your pain fade away.

Blood was pounding in your ears, feet hitting the ground in tune. Just beyond some trees, you could see Half Blood Hill. The force field around it wad your haven, the only way the endless storm of rocks would stop.

You were climbing the hill now, falling and scraping your knees in the rush. Your hands were shaking and covered in scratches and the rocks were getting closer and closer-

You felt a pounding on the back of your head just as you saw Peleus. You stopped in your tracks as you made eye contact with the dragon and promptly fell over. The last thing you remembered were a pair of black glasses.

─ ୨୧ ─

Jason was panicked. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, numb and lightheaded and unable to think about anything other than you. He had found you at the border, surrounded by boulders and bleeding from your head.

His brain immediately went into autopilot. Checking for a pulse, carrying you to the infirmary. He was promptly kicked out by Will Solace, who stated he was “hovering worse than a moth near a lamp.”

He could hear the shuffle of feet through the door, sometimes broken by the sound of voices too muffled to be of use. Then, he heard someone yell, “We’re losing her!”

His heart dropped. His whole body might have gone with it, had he not quickly moved to a chair. Losing you? How?

Thousands of thoughts flooded his brain, words he wanted to say, things he regretted, his future with out you. The latter were the scariest of them all, each one more depressing than the last.

Him slowly falling into madness, him isolating himself from the rest of the world. Dying alone, him doing something stupid in his grief that gets him killed.

His nose prickled, warning him of the tears pooling in his eyes. Oh god, what if these are your final moments?

The door opening snapped him out of his downward spiral. He shot up out of his chair and wiped away the tears about to fall. Will looked tired. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his hair rumpled, and he was swaying slightly.

“She’s stable, but we put her into a deep sleep so she could heal with minimal pain. We wrapped her head to stop the bleeding, but only the nectar we gave her is going to heal her,” he informed the son of Zeus.

Jason sighed with relief, “Thank you, Will. So much.” He went around the boy to enter the room, pausing as he saw you.

You laid lifeless, the bandages on your head almost obscured your face. Hundreds of tiny scratches littered your arms, sure to scar. Jason didn’t care, all that mattered to him was that you were alive and you wete going to wake up.

He took your hand as he sat beside you, and the scabs he felt made him sick. The nectar might have healed up the smaller things, but the marks you still had were remnants of worse cuts. You almost died. You had almost left him. Permanently.

─ ୨୧ ─

Right next to you was where Jason was for the next three days. Holding your hand and praying to any god he could think of were the only things he did. It took a lot of convincing (and a threat to kick him out) by Will (and Nico) to get him to eat something.

It was on the third day that you woke up. It was a particularly sunny day, but with it came midday heat. Not that Jason noticed. Because what point was looking at anything other than you? What was there to feel other than the black hole in his heart?

When your fingers squeezed his hand, he shot up in his chair and called Will over. The son of Apollo rushed over just as your eyes opened, immediately asking you how you felt and if there was any pain.

Over and over, you assured him you felt nothing. He leaned over and removed the now bloodstained wrap around your head. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he announced with a small smile on his face.

You turned to Jason and damn near fell out of the bed trying to hug him. He caught you and positioned you back on the mattress, half his body going over you. He chuckled, thankful you couldn’t see his teary eyes.

"Gods above, I missed you," he exhaled. Maybe his arms were a bit too tight, but you weren't complaining.

You laughed, "How long was I out?"

"Um..." He hesitated, not sure how to proceed. "Three days?"

Your brain stopped working for a second, processing the number. "Well then, superman, we have a lot to catch up on," you whispered as he caught your lips in kiss.

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

GUESS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS!!

in honor of my birthday here are some more rescue bots headcanons!!

they (as in constructed rescue bots) have extra color receptors which allows them to see more types of light than other bots, as well as advanced hearing (they’re also the only bots with noses so they have an extra sense)

all of them have outliers (its a requirement to be a rescue bot)

blurr changed his paint job (post s4, before he showed up in rid15) because heatwave and blades basically bullied him into it

the academy where they studied was on a moon of cybertron’s, and they actually spent very little time on cybertron itself. it was sorta like a field trip spot, and they went very infrequently

quickshadow was the academy's champion shot, and she won a bunch of competitions

the rescue bots all had specialties outside of what they actually did (heatwave was a history nerd, boulder studied xenobiology, blades took journalism, chase did psychology, quickshadow was a data analyst, hightide took astronomy)

hightide was actually friends with both orion pax and megatronus separately before they realized they all knew each other

in that same vein, servo and lazerbeak were longtime friends because they grew up together

optimus is so ridiculously tolerant towards whatever the rescue bots do that they actually have a running bet on how much they can get away with before optimus gets angry (he never once has)

blurr's reputation as most annoying bot ever has been intact since way before the war when he was a racer

blades got his name through an awkward mishap at an armory that heatwave never let him live down

related to that, all the rescue bots' "names" are really more of nicknames. their names are listed on documents but their primary identification is through serial numbers because they're cold constructs

boulder had a practically bullet proof reputation at the academy as the perfect student so whenever the others wanted to get away with something they always involved him

when salvage heard about DIY's he got super into them and started making tons of pointless stuff. he never even followed the good channels, only stuff like troom troom

chase succumbs to peer pressure ridiculously easy

heatwave gives really good advice but only on accident

quickshadow and hightide like to hang out and trash talk optimus whenever he does something they don't like

blades only has field medicine training, he's not cleared for any actual treatment outside of an emergency (he can do first aid and EMT stuff but can't, like, prescribe things or do surgery). this has not stopped him from trying things though.

salvage is actually from one of cybertron's colony worlds, but he grew up on cybertron

ok here's a fun little surprise in honor of my birthday: the humans are also included in headcanons!!

kade was actually very good at gymnastics, he just got bored of it

chief burns needs glasses but he prefers to wear contacts

dani had a very extreme scene core phase, and her hairstyle is a remnant of that

frankie has super high government security clearance as a super genius and daughter of one of the world's best scientists, so she knows all kinds of military secrets

doc greene and chief burns met in childhood, doc's family moved away, and then when he got older he moved back to griffin rock and reunited with the chief

graham is the biggest night owl because of college. sometimes, when he has trouble falling asleep, the bots invite him to movie night and they all watch reruns of old movies or shows

building off that, there are two kinds of movie night: the first is with the whole burns family, rescue team, and sometimes others such as optimus or the greenes. the second is less of a movie night and more of a "we need something to do while the humans are sleeping, let's watch trashy tv all night." this kind of movie night is really just the bots (minus whoever has night shift)

professor baranova actually used to be pretty upbeat, although she was a bit misunderstood because she's neurodivergent (i also headcanon that after the whole living underwater for 28 years thing she developed DID and multiple alters to cope with the loneliness, so she's now a system)

woodrow and optimus are in a qpr. optimus refers to him as his amica, and also privately thinks of him as his human partner

doc greene at some point developed a working synthetic energon formula completely independently. when ratchet first met him (post war, probably right before he was hired to work at the rescue academy) and learned about this he lost his shit

bumblebee and dani race together all the time when he visits

this is where i'm gonna stop this post, because it's pretty late for me lol. it was my birthday today, so happy birthday to me!!

also y'all PLEASE talk to me abt any of these headcanons i will be thrilled to elaborate!

[oneatlatime]

Bitter Work

Life took me out at the knees for a couple of weeks but I'm back! I'm hoping this is a nice restful episode after the relentlessness of The Chase.

I have to say, Toph's nicknaming skills are on point. I never would have thought of Sugarqueen, but it fits perfectly.

This is me. Every morning.

Full nose plant from Appa.

And the beat up Sokka quota is fulfilled. Very funny Toph, but completely uncalled for. If someone had catapulted teenage me 50 feet into the air while I was trying to sleep, it would have been fully justifiable homicide.

Aang is always trying to run before he can walk. What was Iroh always saying to Zuko about basics? Aang needs that speech too.

I was really on the ball in my post about how airbenders aren't homicidal, actually. Rock is a stubborn element. Yay me!

Aang earthbends = Earth bends Aang.

Seriously, how did he mess up that badly?

Cozy.

Thank you Zuko for the incredibly obvious exposition that's somehow completely in character. Interesting to see that Iroh and his son had brown hair, but Zuko seems to have black hair. More hair variety in the Fire Nation than I thought.

Tangent time! I love the contrast in social intelligence (I guess that's the term?) in this scene. Zuko wakes Iroh up with an infodump, some bad tea, and then gets straight to discussing strategy. Iroh's first actions are to compliment the bad tea, then dispose of the refill in a way that won't hurt Zuko's feelings (probably not necessary, as Zuko seems to be the type that's oblivious to all things other than the task at hand when he's focused). Iroh, injured and awake for all of 15 seconds, jumps straight to actions that help look after his nephew. And Zuko is trying! That's why he made tea! But still, he doesn't even ask if his uncle's feeling ok. Zuko has such a massive gap in his education - he can probably reel off the specs of all Fire Nation battleships, but he doesn't know how to be a human person. Contrast that with Iroh, and especially Katara, who makes friends and connections with such aggressive forwardness that she's at times more steamroller than teenage girl. It's funny how privilege plays into this too - Zuko comes from probably the single most privileged (on paper) family in the world, yet it's the children of the impoverished water tribe who have the more well-rounded education/socialisation.

"She's crazy and she needs to go down" go a full belly laugh out of me.

"What if I came at the boulder from a different angle?" Jesus I was REALLY on point with my post about the airbenders. Credit where credit is due, this show has such good writing/worldbuilding that viewers have picked up what Toph is laying out in this episode already. Also a little bit of stealth character work in there - since Toph is putting into words what we've been thinking this whole time, she now reads as trustworthy. This show is so good. So thought out.

Maybe it's just VLC being weird, but methinks Katara is having some trouble with her eyeball.

Katara STOP BABYING HIM. This is why I don't like Aang having a crush on her.

Honestly it's refreshing to have Toph giving it to Aang straight, no softening the blows.

I really like this texture.

Sokka's club is a giant bottle opener. Or at least a multitool.

ROCK SUITS

wait

ELEMENTAL FASHION

oh this is going to be haybending all over again.

They are totally going to have to nerf this girl. She could defeat the Fire Lord right now.

Earth beats water tribe

Someome who knows more about tea than I do: Why are both pots necessary?

"requires peace of mind" well that's out. Sorry Zuko, we'll have to get you a taser instead.

"So we're drinking tea to calm down?" "not it's to get the nasty ass taste of the sludge you brewed out of my mouth. I mean yes." For what's looking like an extended training montage, this episode is far funnier than it needs to be.

I pretty much don't notice Zuko's scar anymore (it's just part of his character design) then every so often a certain frame of animation will come out of the blue and remind me that this kid's missing half his face. I don't know if it's intentional on the part of the animators, but his scar is prominent this episode.

So it sounds like bending lightning actually corresponds with how lightning in our world works. Neat.

In an absolutely Shocking turn of events (pun absolutely intended), Zuko fucks it up. Fucking shit up: the autobiography of a Fire Prince. Has a nice ring to it.

Toph I know you go hard, but maybe apply a sense of proportion to this?

It kind of looks like Aang's about to be run over by a giant scoop of caramel ice cream.

Toph is such an interesting mishmash of bluntness and emotional intelligence. I don't think I've seen a character like that before.

Zuko being self aware for once! Everything always does explode in his face. Except when he's being the Blue Spirit. Seems he's more capable then.

It's a tragedy that this boy wasn't around for the emo movement. He would have single-handedly sustained Hot Topic.

Zuko going "WHAT TURMOIL?!?!?" is like Katara going "I'M COMPLETELY CALM!!!!!" last episode. Also got a laugh out of me.

"I'm as proud as ever." OF WHAT?!?!? What could he possibly be proud of? He's a homeless fugitive with a stolen horse bird and a half-dead uncle that he can't even properly brew tea for. The self-delusion is strong.

Is pride the source of shame? Honest question, I don't know.

There's a surprising variety of trees in this part of the Earth Kingdom. Where Zuko and Iroh are there are fluffly hardwoods, probably deciduous; Toph's training ground is ringed by cartoon pines.

This whole bit is too cute for words.

"Now come back boomerang" This is a training episode, it's not supposed to be this funny!

Are there voice acting awards? Like voice acting oscars? Sokka's actor needs one. Or several.

I should have waited to answer the ask about airbenders and just copy pasted Iroh's speech here. Except for the water = change bit. That doesn't make sense.

What can I possibly say about Iroh's speech? It's the thesis for this show in a single paragraph.

Pretty.

Are characters' eyes a different shape this episode? Aang's eyes change colour all the time, but everyone's eyes seem more cat-like.

I do love me some constructive bullying.

Sokka is so refreshingly self-aware while still totally oblivious. He is meat and sarcasm, but he's so much more!

"Have you got any meat?" He said that in an Irish accent.

"You're gonna pull my fingers off and I don't think the rest of me is coming!" Do you ever come across a sentence that is so obviously an innuendo that your brain trips over itself trying to decipher it?

Sokka's hair must be so fluffy. It's got so much volume.

Why can't he go get Toph? I think being stuck in a hole outranks avoiding an awkward encounter.

FOO FOO CUDDLYPOOPS

"You must not let the lightning pass through your heart, or the damage could be deadly." Foreshadowing?

Today in 'things Zuko thinks it's acceptable, nay, expected, for parental figures to do' - attempted murder as a teaching method! What went on in that palace?

Is this the closest Sokka's come to dying?

He's earthbending the air! Doing air but earthlike. You know what I mean.

I thought she was levitating.

Toph is so smart. She does the airbender thing and comes at the problem from a different angle. Telling Aang to stand up for himself doesn't work? Fine. Let's bully him into standing up for himself. And it works!

This episode's MVP is Sokka's patience.

"You tried the positive reinforcement, didn't you?" uhhhhh sure!

Appa getting vengeance for Sokka. Nice.

Theatre kids.

I wish Zuko would just have the breakdown he's obviously hurtling towards so we can get started on the rebuilding arc. Every time I think he's a rock bottom, he keeps digging.

Luten is Katara. Let's not read too far into that one.

Final Thoughts

I defy any episode from this point on to fulfill the Beat Up Sokka Quota as thoroughly as this one did.

In a lesser show, the 'Aang learns earthbending episode' would have had Aang & Toph as the A-plot, and Sokka & Katara doing something completely unrelated as a b-plot, and probably no Zuko at all. Sokka does have his own thing going on this episode, but the fact that they managed to weave in both water tribe siblings so organically is so satisfying. Of course a team member struggling to learn a new skill would seek out his friends. Of course his friends are in the area, observing the lesson to varying degrees. It feels so much more real to have the characters who aren't 'useful' that episode still there, rather than conveniently absent.

Zuko was very Zuko this episode. He's correct that he needs more training for his inevitable next encounter with Zuko jr., but Iroh is also correct that Zuko is a bundle of issues held together by a different bundle of issues. Not to jinx it, but I thought I detected a hint of self-awareness from Zuko this episode, although it seems to have occurred despite his best efforts to suppress it.

Iroh's Zuko-wrangling skills were sharp this episode, despite being injured. And his wisdom was off the charts. Zuko was also not as annoying as I usually find him, and unlike in Zuko Alone where I found his quieter self to be out of character, it fit this episode. Maybe he's turned over a new, quieter, leaf? I loved "she's crazy and she needs to go down" both as a joke and as a statement. Shared blood doesn't trump someone's actions, and I'm glad to see a show meant for kids acknowledge that. Although, given that this show has no problem depicting objectively BAD parents and families, I can't say I'm surprised.

In a testament to Jack de Sena's skill, Sokka get a soliloquy this episode and pulls it off flawlessly. Kudos to the animation team for making Sokka's face fit the words so well. Double kudos for whoever had the balls to approve 'stick Sokka in a hole and put an apex predator on his head to force self-reflection' as a plotline.

There was a lot of exposition from a lot of different characters this episode, but it's mostly unnoticeable. It just makes sense that that's what they would be talking about at that point in time.

I think I said it above, but I'll say it again: the worldbuilding in this show is phenomenally well done. How do I know this? Because I was able to construct most of Iroh's monologue before watching this episode, just by paying attention. This show rewards focus and attentiveness. (Almost) nothing that Iroh said was not something the audience has already observed for themselves. Not heard, but observed. That 'show, don't tell' thing.

This episode was way funnier than it needed to be too. Not just the obvious stuff like *inhales*

FOO FOO CUDDLYPOOPS

but tiny one-liners buried mid-conversation and character interactions too. Momo turning into a reed didn't have to be there, but it was, and it was funny. It wasn't exactly restful, but it was a relief to have an episode that really didn't move around after The Chase.

What I like most about this episode was that it went farther than it had to. This was a training episode. It could have been just training. Anyone familiar with training episodes would expect just training, and be satisfied with just training. But Avatar said 'nope, we'll do better than that' and organically incorporated a heap of character stuff, worldbuilding from multiple perspectives, humour, multiple characters undergoing self-reflection, the next step in the domestication of Zuko, what I'm hoping wasn't a heap of foreshadowing, and pretty backgrounds as the cherry on top. They didn't have to go so hard, but Avatar always goes hard. I like that.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi!!!

🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

HI!

45 for 🐓

---

 Correctly. She accuses very correctly. 

“And you’re ruining everything!” Jared snaps back at her. “Evan, come on. Maybe we can just talk? We were friends!”

The more Jared says Evan, the sicker Buck feels. He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t stop. 

“You are so pathetic,” Miranda huffs. “He doesn’t want you. He’s from L.A. He could get guys that don’t have to pretend to still have a marriage!”

“I’m not pretending if I still have to deal with your fucking rules, am I?”

Buck shoves his feet into his boots, grabs his coat, and stumbles out the door without even tying his laces. He pukes into the snow in their front lawn. Beer and bile. He feels disgusting. He feels dirty. And it’s not just the improper clean up. 

Buck fucked up. Badly.

⬅️

He checks his phone as he walks home. It’s not good. It’s well after midnight. By the time he makes it back to the house it’ll be after one. He has plenty of experience sneaking into that house, but the problem is, that was usually after sneaking out. Unfortunately, based on his missed calls and texts, everyone knows he’s out. And no one is too happy with him. 

Well, it doesn’t look like Maddie and Chim are angry, so much as worried. The voicemails from his parents, though? Yeah. He’s not checking those. 

There is one voicemail he does check, though. Because it’s from someone he’d never, ever ignore on purpose. 

Christopher. 

Buck panics a little when he sees that he’s missed it. He called after ten. A weird time for him to be calling. Shouldn’t he be sleeping? Or is he too teenagery for sleep now? Buck should know. He used to know Christopher’s whole routine. But he’s grown so much and… And Buck turns to spit up a little more bile into the snow. 

---

45 for 🌲

---

Eddie turns his head towards the lake and cracks his eyes open. His eyes sting from tears, and he’s cold and disoriented, but he can still see it. Rain drops ricocheting off the surface of the lake. 

“What?” He murmurs. 

He’s not lying under any thick-canopied trees. Eddie lifts his head weakly, looking above him. And he sees… He sees the ground. Which doesn’t exactly make sense, considering he’s on the ground. 

It takes him longer than he’s proud of to realize. It’s not this ground. 

It’s Arizona. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie exhales. “Oh, what the fuck.”

It’s like a flat, see-through door. Maybe six or seven feet above him. Like someone laid out a printed out photo of the forest floor. Adriana’s got to be conveniently in a lake. His has to be above him. Fantastic. 

Eddie scrambles to his feet. He’s stiff and achy. His body wills him to collapse again. His legs shake underneath him. But he holds fast. Maybe there’s still a chance he can save Buck. 

He lifts his arm as high through the portal as he can. Until his knuckles brush against dirt and pebbles. A few even tumble through and land on his head and shoulders. But, as things fall into Sweden, Eddie can’t bring himself into Arizona. He has no leverage. Nothing to grab to try and pull himself through. 

“FUCK!” He shouts into the fucking void. 

This is just cruel. Tantalizing. 

He drops his arm back down to his side and looks around. Maybe there’s a conveniently hacked log stump he can drag over here. A manageably sized boulder?  Anything! But there’s nothing in sight. Plus, if he leaves this little under-portal radius, does it disappear? He doesn’t want to risk it.

---

45 for ⚖️

---

Not this future. He cuts it out. Obliterates it. Doesn’t even let it play through. Eddie said to choose Chris over him, but not at this cost. No way. Besides, Eddie dying is the worst thing that can happen to Chris. 

Even angry, Buck would bet anything Chris would agree with that.

So he keeps looking. 

Buck sees another one, just the way the horrible one started. Christopher comes home. Eddie cries when the decision is made. Christopher overhears a fight between Eddie and his grandparents. Chris tearfully apologizes to his father, who hugs him tight and tells him it’s okay. Buck feels a looming sense of dread, thinking the same must be coming. Thinking, what if there’s no way to bring Chris home without Eddie dying? Buck will have to leave him in Texas and break Eddie’s heart. 

But then it changes. 

It just… Doesn’t happen. Like whatever killed Eddie was circumvented, because there’s Chris, celebrating another birthday, and Eddie and Buck are both there. There’s Eddie, fastening the cufflinks to a nice suit on a slightly older Chris, in a situation Buck can’t contextualize. I’m really proud of you, Dad, Chris says. Eddie has tears in his eyes. 

Whatever this future is, it’s a good one. 

Buck strains but can’t see much further than that. Right. Because Chris is still too young. 

Chris looks happy. Eddie looks happy. Even Buck looked happy at the birthday party. Not that he… Not that that matters. But of course he’s happy, with Chris and Eddie okay.

So Buck doesn’t watch anymore. Maybe it’s not the best one. But the possibilities are infinite. Chris is safe and happy. Eddie is alive. What could be better than that? 

He chooses this one. 

He chooses this one, and he doesn’t look back. 

Interesting, he hears Nemesis. Very interesting. 

---

[11queensupreme11]

Hi! So I don’t know if you’ve seen this trend on TikTok but basically it’s where in couples the girl or guy rank hugs that they would be okay with other guys or girls giving their partners from 1-10: 10 being the worst and 1 being the one they would be the most okay with.

When I saw this I couldn’t help but think what poseidon would rate the hugs guys would give to Percy with 1 being least likely to be killed and 10 being most likely to be killed if she did this trend with him.

Poseidon:

1: self hug (this is fine since she’s hugging herself although he would prefer himself doing all the hugging

2: Polite hug (he’s not happy about it, cause why are u touching my daughter) (he’ll kill them quickly to just be done with it)

3: the classic hug (okay now he’s getting annoyed cause don’t touch his daughter-wife) ( he would give a slight maiming before ending them quickly since it wasn’t intimate in nature)

4: one armed hug (ur crossing into dangerous territory now buddy) (more maiming than the last but still a quick death since it’s not as intimate as it could be and is more of a friendly hug)

5: the patting hug (at this point he’s cutting off limbs starting with the hand ur patting her with) (no more quick deaths w some minor maiming he’s prolonging that shit so hug her at ur own peril)

6: back hug (NO!) (RUN!) (No more maimings just straight limb cuttings (like that true crime audio “her legs were cut off, her arms were cut off, she was a human torso” but like with YOU buddy. (Cause why is ur 🍆 touching her butt)

7:slow dance hug (honestly w this one Poseidon spent a whole day torturing u) (ur missing fingers and nails and eyes and ears—the whole shebang) (and for some reason the only person I can see percy slow dance hugging would be Anthonius so R.I.P Anthonius 🥺 u will be missed)

8: the catcher hug (you prayed for days, weeks even to be free from the tyrant of the sea, to no avail) (Poseidon had literally flayed u alike while making u watch as he fed ur skin and intestines to his mermaids) ( u were awake and aware the ENTIRE time and felt EVERYTHING)

9: the hug at the waist (it’s been centuries and he still hasn’t let u go or just die) (everyday is a new punishment from 🍇 by viscous sea monsters to pushing boulders up mountains Dedalus style to slow roasting u over an open fire day in and day out that you can’t even remember what day it is, what the sky looked like, why ur even still being punished, or what it felt like not to be in endless pain 😭😭)

10: the cuddle (he did everything he did to u in nine except now it been multiple millennia and this time he made percy watch every second of it) (he’s just a guy disciplining his daughter-wife leave him alone🥺)

this is also pretty much on point for most of the yanderes too tbh 😭😭

percy's not afraid to be affectionate with her friends regardless of gender. she will hug and cuddle you if she wants to (with ur consent of course!!! because consent is VERY IMPORTANT *side eyes the yans*). she'll hold her friends hands and vice versa, she is very open to skinship with her buddies!!!!!!!

........which is every yans' nightmare LMAO

these are ancient guys (yes even cu chulainn, he's the youngest, but he's still 1000+ years old i think) and back then girl/boy friendships were seen as sus 😭😭😭 so they're all gonna be pissed at the thought of her having friends of the opposite gender.

they're like "you shouldn't be friends with boys, you're a GIRL >:(" (some will be less harsh with it tho)

but if she was openly AFFECTIONATE TO THEM or if THEY were openly affectionate to her???? oh it's SO over for that guy 💀💀💀

like, this girl has slumber parties in other cabins or they have it in hers, and i also briefly mentioned in older chapters that she even invites some to hang out in her place 😭😭😭, imagine them finding out that she's hanging out with guys and even sleeping in the same room as them 😭😭😭

that's just bizarre to them cuz they're just that old (and also possessive)

[the-mononoke-facade]

Random thought I had trying to go to sleep at four in the morning

I wonder if Genkei and Oyou are meant to bring to mind Izanagi and Izanami from the Shinto creation myth and then kind of flip the whole thing on its head? (here's a source on the story in question)

Izanagi and Izanami were siblings and spouses tasked with developing the earth beyond an endless ocean and gave birth to the islands of Japan, and Genkei and Oyou are siblings who supposedly want to be joined as husband and wife but can't be, and Genkei's holding onto this and his own guilt and regret gives rise to the Sea of Ayakashi instead

Izanami died giving birth to the kami of fire Kagutsuchi and was sent to what roughly equates to the underworld. Izanagi went to go rescue her only to change his mind and treat her as an evil entity once he found out she's already turned into a decaying corpse. Genkei was meant to be a human sacrifice to calm the tumultuous seas of the Dragon's Triangle, but his terror at the prospect and his unwillingness to give up his "bright future" for the sake of his village has Oyou taking on the role of sacrifice in his place, thus being consigned to the underworld. Genkei then has half a century to swear up and down to himself that her vengeful spirit is the root of the evil of the Sea of Ayakashi and not his own remorse and anxiety (Oyou wasn't actually consigned to the underworld or anything of the sort, she was at peace with her role and ready to face the Pure Lands, though in a way she's still dragged into that darker place posthumously because of Genkei and his truth being the only one remaining). He doesn't consider his sister's salvation until after he sold her out and gave up on her, only for her to not need it to begin with

Izanagi sealed Izanami in the underworld with a giant boulder, the hollow boat was sealed with an entry point that otherwise wouldn't budge, and it was expected that Oyou was going to be waiting there with a vengeance by the time they finally manage to get it open, just for it to be empty (and it was the vessel that would have supposedly sent her to the underworld)

Izanami is portrayed as the somewhat tragic villain of the myth, to the point that Izanagi has to go through a purification ritual after having encountered Izanami like that, even though it was Izanagi's not being able to accept Izanami's death that made this an issue in the first place. Genkei tries to cast Oyou in the same role to deflect having to face the reality of what he did, keeping himself caught in this trap between self-flagellation over his unresolved guilt and self-soothing that he's doing all this fretting to try to atone for it, also creating this situation because he can't accept his role in her death and can't just let her pass peacefully like she was prepared to do

I also wonder if it's relevant to contrast Genkei's role as a prominent Buddhist priest with this foundational Shinto myth, but then the discussion of the blurry divide of Buddhism and Shintoism isn't really one I'm equipped to handle with the nuance it deserves, so I'll just leave it as a mention for now

Anyway, just something that occurred to me as maybe having something to it

[genderfluid-insomniac]

I disdain all glittering gold // Siren!Kafka x reader

A/N:: This is late but I did write this in Mermay and I love mommy kafka ❤️

You were painting by the lake that led out to the ocean and switching between your muse and the canvas in front of you, adjusting your headphones so you could hear the music better. Something caught your eye splashing around in the deep water, you took off your headphones and put your brush down. “What was that-”

Another splash could be heard and you whipped your head around to try to catch what was making that noise, only to see a fin dipping into the water. “Is that a… no- no it couldn’t be.” It was probably just a big fish that came in from the ocean and your mind was pushing magical impossible reasons because it was tired from not getting enough sleep. You turned your back to the lake and headed up the your easel, not noticing the top of a head peaking out above the surface and the wet purple hair flowing on top of the water.

Before you knew it, you were back to outlining the lake and trees when a voice shook you out of your stupor, “You know, you must be pretty bold to turn your back to a siren.” You shot up and locked eyes with a women who was completely bare except for her long hair covering both her breasts and waist deep in the lake. “or stupid.” There was no one when you got here, you swore it. Even going so far as to call out in case you were intruding because you wanted to paint alone- wait.

“Did you just say siren?” Your brush already discarded on the rock you were sitting on and stepping closer to the shore, more curious than anything although the only rumors of sirens being deadly creatures. She chuckled in a deep suave voice and dove under the water, creating waves that rippled on the surface as you scoured the water for her.

A drop of water was flicked to your cheek and you glanced to your right to see her resting her head on her arms against a boulder that was taller than you with several outward perches. “Well, well it looks like you aren’t entirely clueless. But I have to say I’m hurt you only just noticed me, sweetheart.” Her pale pink and magenta eyes luring you in closer and closer, flicking some water on your face again with her fingers and laughing at your shocked expression.

Your mind was reeling for many reasons but the main one being how long had she been watching you. Who was she? Why show herself? What-”I can tell you have many questions, little human.” She smoothly said and lifted her tail out of the water, letting fall back into it with a slap. “Since I’m feeling nice today I’ll answer two questions and that’s all. I’m sure you know how we sirens are around those who we want?”

The woman’s lips smirked, revealing a sharper set of teeth than any normal person would have and pushing her arms together to make her chest more emphasized. You blushed and looked away, finding yourself more interested in her tail which resembled a tigerfish like design. “Alright. uh- What’s your name?” Pretty sure it didn’t hold any power over her like it did to fae but you wanted to know her name. “Well hm, fine but only if I get to know yours~” You nodded and carefully got closer, sitting down next to the rock.

She hummed thoughtfully and gave you a once over before laughing coyly. “Kafka, darling~” Kafka laid her cheek in her hand and flicked her tail around in anticipation for your name reveal. “Name. My name is Name.” The siren eyed your face and waved her finger towards her, silently asking you to come closer and humming a song you didn’t recognise. Her voice was beautiful. Ignoring her wasn’t possible and you didn’t want to in the first place.

“Come to me, Name. Come here.” You didn’t register your clothes getting wet or the cold temperature of the lake swallowing you whole. “That’s a good obedient human. Hm, you’re much too precious to let go so I think I’ll keep you.” Kafka softly chuckled at your dazed state and swept you into her arms, guiding you deeper and deeper into the lake. Why did you come here in the first place again?

[blackbloodteeth]

Something fell from the sky that night, shook the earth far from where it landed. He could feel it before he saw it, parted the curtain from the window to watch a flash light up above the storm, a star falling some distance from his quiet cabin. He felt it so closely in his chest that he just had to go out to find it, out into the billowing snow and freezing whirl of nature's untameable whims.

A hand kept his scarves pressed firmly against his laboured breaths while the other held tight to his lantern. Snow, deeply burying the mountainside, slowed his steps but he trekked onward to where he remembers the heavens parting. If anything, he always had a good sense of direction.

Eventually the dim glow of the flame's light cast itself on a disturbance in the snow, sunken around a small boulder that he threw himself onto. His gloves tore into the storm trying to claim it, pulling apart chunks of meteorite that crumbled away like feathers, and soon enough the lantern reflected from a dull gold blanketing the inside: Deep within, a woman. Bare. Nothing, save for the sleeping face of an angel.

This is how he knew the above was cruel, abandoning her here all by herself.

He pauses for not even a moment before hastily setting the lantern aside, forcing off the outermost coat from himself and swaddling her in it, carefully, yet hurriedly, picking her up and taking the lantern again as he stands back up, trudging homeward with this fallen star in tow. It isn't before long that he pushes them past the door and brings her to a freshly renewed fire, gifting her all the deserved rest he can offer from its warmth as the storm rages onwards.

Thankfully, she awakens just in time for supper to finish being prepared. There's a curiosity beneath the layer of frost set in her face – yet her eyes were greener than you can ever imagine here, like gemstones that lure in the wicked and greedy while rewarding those who never deemed fit to take them in the first place. She didn't speak for a long while, not that he particularly expected her to, but he told her that he went by Soul as he offered her a piping hot bowl of stew.

Like many before her, she hesitated until she got a taste of his rich, hearty recipe of tender meats and perfectly cooked vegetables to eagerly devour her bowlful and second helping. It'd been a long time since he'd smiled like this.

"…Soul." Of course she finally did speak, less a voice of a bird of paradise and more a scholar of thought. "You brought me in from the cold?"

"I did," he replies before taking another bite.

"…Why?"

His spoon stirs the broth around gently as he ponders this, for only just a moment. "Just felt like the right thing to do. No use freezin' out there for no one."

"What you say and what you mean doesn't sound the same."

Soul doesn't have to face her to hear the way it furrows her eyebrows at him, and well, maybe there was some truth ringing into that little smile of his. "After you wear a mask for so long, it gets hard to remember what your own face looks like."

For the rest of the storm he kept her company. Told her all the tales he knew, like how there once was a shepherd who wore the skin of a wolf to find where all the other wolves gathered, and when he joined their plot to wear the skin of a sheep that night, his own family ate him for supper none the wiser. By the dawn of sunrise when the storm finally broke, he'd dozed off more than a couple times haunted by these visions.

The chill in the air was present as it was refreshing. Soul loaned her some spare garments to keep her warm, fully ready to see her off at the greeting of sunrise over the shimmer of snow before she turned to face him again, that stony layer of curiosity returned with a small lantern's flame.

"You seem lonely."

Breath from his sigh plumes up from the restless corners of his mouth. "Have been my whole life. One day I just decided to make it a choice."

"If you could choose again, would you decide that now," she asks.

He looks out at the windless sparkling of sunrise already starting to reach its way to his quiet cabin, not yet blinding but still a sight to behold as not even his trail nor the storm had been left behind in the calm of morning after. Another plume of breath slips away from him when he gazes upon the shining green still watching him. "I won't choose to stop you if you decide to stay here."

[annabelle-creart]

I'm going to fucking kill myself with netflix's need to separate one season into various, like- DUDE, THE SQUID GAME'S FINAL WAS SO FUCKING CLOSE HOLY SHIT-

In honor of my rage (and all the dead people I loved in this season [which is not spoiler because is the fucking squid game and that was obvious])

Some TFRB Headcanons. Squid Game edition

The first ones to look at Squid Game's existence were Cody and Heatwave one night they were bored and Cody couldn't sleep. They got intrigued on the first episode

Both later repeated the series with the rest of the team

Salvage has the whole soundtrack on his playlist

Blades replicated a triangle mask with Dani for Earlyween

Boulder has a low tolerance to both pink energon and blood, so, Heatwave told them each time a scene had violence for them to cover their optics

Blurr got traumatized... but watched it like two times later, whole

Sissi got traumatized, but she prefered to go to do, like, anything else except watching the series

Kade and Heatwave are still fighthing with each other over who was a better character

Charlie doesn't know why the rest started to like it, but here we are, he included on the club

Chase is still debating with himself if anything of what they all did in the series was justified or they were just scared...

Graham is not a great fan but still replicated the labyrinth and stairs just for fun in 3D because it looked funny

[understand-that-i-love-you-not]

"Cold? Dragon Young"

[Context, visiting Dan Heng's room to offer affection, though he seems...oddly busy]

"Come in"

Out of the blue you come in on the archives commonly where your boyfriend resides at the express. You come opening the door, not finding it necessary to knock, he would hear your footsteps ahead of your action.

You enter to see Dan Heng working on the data bank. He seems to just be standing, posture straight. arms tucked in front with one raising to support his chin, a habitual action when you're in deep thinking.

You felt rather silly, so you proceeded to hug him abruptly from behind

"Hello" was all you muttered while your face was planted on his clothed back, taking this opportunity to relish his scent, especially he's got his long-lengthen coat undressed, leaving him on his black long sleeves.

His body forces forward to your impact then immediately regaining posture. He seems unfazed

You then move your palms from his stomach, trailing them in a slow but very intimate motion, up and down. Still he stays at where and what he was.

You stopped your hands at the top of his shoulders, shaking his whole body a little as if telling him you were in the room. What was it he was busy with anyway? was it so important he has to put you aside at the moment??

You got a bored so you proceeded to leave him be for a moment, walking out. Maybe he is busy right now.

Before you could leave he grabbed your wrist.

"Come look at this"

He led you to the data bank that had his spotlight earlier. Happily you complied.

"I was just imprinting these on the data bank when we got back from Jarilo IV"

From the data bank it showed slide shows of photographs of your memories from when you were trailblazing the said planet.

"Ohh..." was all you could mutter in a descending, adored tone.

"Look! this was when March tripped and got ice cream on Stelle's face!! haha...and that's us in the background..."

"Oh this was...when we sneaked a small stroll out of boulder town when we were supposed to be on the hotel....hehe, luckily Stelle didn't see us when she went with Bronya and Seele. Honestly! it took a while for me to convince you to walk with me"

"It was too risky...we were luckily the lot didn't see us" Dan Heng added "I couldn't sleep you know~"

You stood silent...in awe of special moments you all shared at your adventure, and of you and your lover's

During your observation, you felt arms snake around your waist.

It was Dan Heng's turn to offer you the same attention you did for him just now. This action made heat crept to your cheeks, and sending fluttering butterflies to your stomach.

This...isn't fair...how come he can make you feel this way but when you did it to him he didnt budge at all?!

As a 'comeback' you jokingly and mischievously planned.

You proceeded to turn to face him.

You snake your arms to cling on his neck, forcing your head forward to place your soft lips on his sweet ones.

This shocked Dan Heng, his eyes remained on shock, his arms now levitating on your body, unable to move.

You pulled your lips away by a few centimeters, which you stared at before completely distancing you face to look at his.

Dan Heng was back from his brain circuit to stare at your eyes, still in a shock and his lips were slightly parted.

You keep staring at him, asking him if you can continue.

He softened his gaze, then stared to your lips "Why did you stop?"

You wasted no time and kissed him again, this time he reciprocated. It was very intimate, he seemed like he really needed you at this moment. Your body slowly leaning backwards due to Dan Heng's strong arms caging your waist, all the while he leans his upper body on you to feel your lips more. You understood what he wanted. You both slightly parted your lips, your hand reaching for his cheek while his supported your neck.

You pulled away, catching for breathe

Dan Heng didn't know what to say, he felt a little embarrassed after unintentionally heavying his body weight to yours.

You chuckled "I'm tired...we should go rest, we had quite the adventure no? mind if I stay for the night?"

Dan Heng looked down with red tinted cheeks "of course, my bed's not all the comfort you would look for though"

"That's alright, the bed is not that I mind, it's you that I want to be with in my sleep"

Dan Heng looks down, then faced you to place a kiss on your forehead...