#sometimes you just say something vulnerable

[reignpage]

Bubble Bubble

Summary: in which alien!reader splashes around with Gojo Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut, 18+, not really a standalone, find the other parts in my fics masterlist, not proofread

Day 14

“Yeah, so then I told Yuji, ‘You just gotta go with your gut,’ y’know? He didn’t get it, but eh, he will, eventually.”

You hum. 

The two of you are in the bath. More specifically, sharing a bath. It’s not something he’d ever share he does to anyone, since, well, he doesn’t exactly feel proud of his decisions. 

It’d been two weeks by now, since he first met and took you in, and you’ve gotten along splendidly. Maybe, a little too splendidly if the fact that boundaries have been crossed majorly is anything to go by. And what Satoru means by this, of course, is how, since that fateful night where he had shoved his foot in his mouth and sparked a curiosity for pleasure in you, you two had been sleeping in bed together. 

Something about humping each other like dogs on the sofa seemed to mean all bets were off. 

Honestly, Satoru doesn’t sleep very often. He still has duties to attend to but also, he really likes watching you snooze — the man hates how creepy that sounds, how creepy all of this sounds but the blue lights that hum beneath your skin just demands his attention. So, at night, he traces his fingers lightly over your bare skin, following the lights as they journey back and forth from your heart. They follow blood flow, he figures, though he’s no doctor. 

There’s also something else: you and him have now developed a routine of dry-humping before bed. It’s terrible and Satoru should be ashamed, he knows that. His relationship with you was never supposed to be like his. You were supposed to be friends and he’s gone and taken advantage of you at your most vulnerable. 

He wants to stop. Really. 

But when you hold his arm, pressing them between your soft and warm breasts, and look up at him with those pretty eyes, how is he ever supposed to say no?

“But it’s your job, no? To teach?”

Your Japanese has gotten so much better. All those movies are really paying off — if only he could put a movie on for his students and let them figure it out. It’s great to be able to communicate with you better. Now, you two actually have discussions about what you’ve watched and what you want for dinner. You even tell jokes sometimes. They’re terrible and cheesy but when they come out of your mouth, they’re hilarious. 

One problem though: you hold him accountable.

Defensively, Satoru, answers, “I do. I teach all of them. I’m a great teacher!”

“But if Yuji confused, then you not teach well.”

He groans, head thrown back over the foot of the tub. You’re sat in front of him, between his legs with your head resting on his wet chest. "Why is no one on my side? Not even you."

"Maybe you teach us," you reply, following it with a giggle over your own joke. In spite of himself, he chuckles, admitting defeat. Then, playfully rolling his eyes, he tickles you as revenge. Whirring sounds out from your chest as you laugh uncontrollably.

This is nice, he thinks. He wishes he could stay here, in this tub, with you forever, even if his whole skin becomes wrinkly.

Your relationship is developing quite fast, so is your general capabilities. Soon, he'll have to open the door and let the world know who you are, let the sun graze your skin, the wind kiss your lips, and the ground feel your weight.

Satoru can only hope that day is far, far in the future.

"Whad'ya want for dinner tomorrow? I'm going shopping in the morning on my way back from my mission."

"Hmm, ramen?"

Playing with a lock of your hair, he notes, "We've been having ramen too often, E. Let's try -um- something healthier, m'kay? L-leave it to Toru."

The steam rises up and floats in the air, blurring his vision ever so slightly. Lovely as it is, the heat is getting to his head, short-circuiting his brain, making it difficult to focus, especially when you’re flicking your own nipples. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, grabbing hold of your mischievous hands.

Oh and another thing, you two have gotten a little more adventurous than over the clothes humping. Satoru started off with wanting to make your ride, no pun intended, smoother by stimulating your chest — that had been an experiment to see if you have nerve endings there and you most certainly did because you writhed faster and moaned his name deliciously. 

At first, it was over your shirt for the friction, which you love. But then he couldn’t help himself and his wandering hands found themselves under your shirt and groping your breasts. They were warm and heavy and so soft. Since then, he hadn't been able to get his hands off your tits. And apparently, neither could you.

“No,” you say. “I like it.”

Satoru makes a noise of embarrassment, like the consequences of his horniness is catching up to him. “No, E, baby. You don’t do that in front of other people.”

“No other people. Just Toru.”

“Okay, yes, good. But you only play with yourself during special times.”

You shuffle around and with your head tilted, you ask, “What ‘special times’ mean?” 

Oh great, yet another dirty thing to teach you. If the government ever found out he’s harbouring an alien and he didn’t attempt to find out the secrets of the universe but instead chose to molest said alien, he’d be arrested, convicted, and he'll go down in the history books as the most perverted human in the world — no, the universe. 

“Forget it, E. Let’s just get washed up, okay? I’ll do your hair.”

Water splashes around when your fist smacks against the surface, more bubbles forming. “No, Toru is teacher. You teach. Not fair you teach Yuji but not me. I want to learn too. Tell me special times, Toru!”

How does he even begin to explain the distinction between teaching the kids versus teaching you? Because he really wants to make clear that he does not teach the kids anything remotely resembling this. Let that be known far and wide. 

Raking a wet hand through his wet hair, he sighs. 

“Alright, E. This is another thing we don’t talk to other people about, okay?”

You beam, a wave of blue lights running through your body just once, making a krrrrrrrrr sound that he finds just so endearing. “Secret?”

“Yes, secret.”

Soft lips meet his. 'Secret' is code for the intimate moments you share where you’re not alien and human caretaker, but rather just E and T. As soon as that word is uttered, you'd reach up and kiss him, tracing the seam of his lips with your tongue before plunging in, melting against his body. 

Satoru holds your head close, spare hand clasping your wet neck and then falling down to one tit, groping it the way you like. When you arch your back, he takes that as a sign to flick your nipple. It never fails to make you gasp into his mouth. 

Groaning, he deepens the kiss impossibly further, chasing the sweet taste of your lips like it might be his last meal. Though you two have never humped against each other completely bare, being naked like this hasn’t been new for almost a week now. Still, when his cock hardens even more, you giggle. “Toru boner? Want me to make it go away?”

“No, not yet, E,” he mutters. “First, I gotta teach you about ‘special times,’ remember?”

Manoeuvring you back into facing the front, he holds your knees and widens them until they’re resting against his thighs perfectly. He’s never taken a proper look at your pussy before and even from this angle he can’t really see much. He knows you have a slit, bare and smooth, and everything on the outside looks fine. But he’s never felt more. Since you like grinding so much, he figures you must have a clit, right? So surely this wouldn’t be too hard to do. 

“So, E, special times refers to masturbation. It refers to when you make yourself feel good alone. Do you wanna know how women masturbate?”

Breathless, you nod. 

He skims one hand down your stomach, tickling you for a second, before he spreads your lips and feels with his middle finger what you have there. Oh. “Feels pretty normal to me. Are you sure you’re an alien, E?”

“Yes. I come from stars. Far away. You can’t fly to. No air up there. You die.”

Right, okay, well he wasn’t planning on doing that, so he focuses back onto your pussy. He finds your clit easily; it’s exactly where women’s tends to be so he wastes no time in rubbing around the area, laying feather-light touches to your clit here and there. 

Blue light is shining under your skin again. He must be doing a good enough job. 

“You rub this. It’s called a clit. Can you say that for me?”

“C-clit. I rub clit for special times.”

He hums. "Good. Now if you ever want some time alone, just tell me you want to play with your pussy, 'kay?"

"I play with pussy?"

Satoru kisses your head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You’re growing wetter under the water, your pussy warm — hotter than he remembers the average pussy to be — and he’s growing breathless too. You feel so good. “Play with your titties, baby. Just like earlier. Go on.”

Your hands fly up, groping hard. He watches the fat pool between your fingers and his mouth suddenly feels empty; he hasn’t tasted your tits yet. What a shame. 

Venturing lower, he feels the divot in your pussy and he knows you also have a hole. He tests it with one finger at first, poking and waiting for any sign of pain. There is none. Instead, you jut your hips out, encouraging him. So, he pushes that finger in. 

“Oh, fuck, E. W-what are these?” There’s pleats inside your pussy. They’re moving. Withdrawing in a haste, he examines his finger. It’s still there so he knows your pussy juices aren’t corrosive or something, though he does feel some tingling. Oddly, there's a light sheen of blue in the translucent liquid. “Baby, do you know anything about this? Do you know if we can do this? Like, I don't know, did you learn anything from your home?”

Still playing with your nipples, you throw your head back and whine. “It’s okay, Toru. Safe. Just make me feel good, p-please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t exactly want to get hurt too but I can turn my infinity on.”

“Shield?”

“Yeah, shield.”

Grabbing his wrist, you lead it back to your pussy and press it hard against the entire area, humping his palm unashamedly. “No. Safe, Toru. Listen to E! My people say we are—“

And then you proceed to make alien noises that confuses him even more but he trusts you. You may not know much about Earth but you aren’t stupid — you just find it difficult to communicate. 

Hesitantly, he pushes two fingers in, testing your stretch. It’s a tight fit for sure but somehow your moving walls are massaging his fingers, welcoming him in and urging him deeper. The sensations are new and odd but somewhat addictive. He wonders if you have a G-spot. 

Curling his fingers, he presses against where it usually is and you whimper, body tensing. Okay, so G-spot check. Good.

“‘We are’ what, E? I didn’t understand.”

Your chest makes a thrill sound. 

“How say, okay together? Match?”

“Compatible?”

You shrug like that’s a good enough synonym. Resuming playing with your breasts, you let Satoru explore your insides, thrusting his fingers in slowly as his thumb rubs your pussy. 

Definitely hotter inside than usual, Satoru also notices something else. Actually a couple things, all driving him absolutely wild: one, every spot inside you is a G-spot, he knows that because your eyes fly open and both your skin and your eyes glows brighter in pulses every time he presses in at any spot.

Two, your canal is longer than average because not even his ‘freakishly long’ fingers (as Shoko called them once) can reach your cervix when usually that had always been the case with the women he’d been with before. 

Maybe you don’t have a cervix. You haven’t had a period at all and though he knows a month hasn’t passed, you also haven’t brought it up even when he tried to teach you about menstruation. Maybe you don’t have a womb either. His dick throbs. Yeahhhh, he’s a terrible human being. There’s no way he’s getting turned on by the prospect of having as much unprotected sex as he wants with your beautiful body, pussy leaking his cum and making your thighs sticky. 

“Can you have babies, E? Y’know, little humans.”

Beginning to thrash around, you’re more than distracted. He has to nibble on your ear to get your attention, and then, you, with very little patience, respond, “N-no. Babies made different way. Ah, T-toru! I feel good again. More, please!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to withhold an orgasm. Tilt your head this way, E. Wanna kiss you. You know how much I love it when we kiss whilst you cum.”

Ever so obedient, you hurriedly turn your head around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately. Every kiss, every touch of your tongues together is interrupted with high-pitched moans, splashing water, and vibrations from your chest, that telltale humming growing louder and louder as the pleats in your pussy wrap around his fingers in a tighter and tighter hug. 

They hold onto him like they’d be very upset if he removed them for too long as he thrusts and presses all your sensitive spots over and over again, the water sloshing around and spilling over the tub, creating a mess he'll have to deal with.

“T-toru! Fingers soooooo long. I feel full!”

“I know, E, baby. You like feeling full, don’t you. Your pussy doesn’t want me to leave, does she?”

Satoru fails to mention one other thing he’s noticed and he really can’t spend too much time thinking about it because it’s threatening to make him bust his load prematurely: your pussy emits light. 

Seriously, it’s like something from some shitty hentai. But there’s no doubt about it; blue light is shining onto his pale fingers, making the water and the bubbles an even darker blue. Everywhere he looks, there’s you. You are blue. When he stares up at the sky, he feels his chest ache. And when he sees stop signs and cars resembling any shade of blue, his cock is growing in his trousers. 

Fuck, even when he catches sight of his eyes in the mirror, unobscured by his blindfold, all he sees is you. 

“You’re so hot inside. Do you hate me for wanting to fuck you right now, E? Hmm? Would you hate me if I just lifted you up and dropped you down on my cock? No, probably not, right? ‘Cause you want me too, right, E? You want Toru?”

“Y-yes, Toru. Want -ngh!- you. Always”

He coos, “Aww, you’re such a sweetie-pie, aren’t you? My good girl. Go on, then baby, show me h-how much you want me. R-ride my fingers.”

Smelling like roses and bath salts, the steam fills his nose and Satoru thinks he might just pass out from the overstimulation — your soft breasts pressed against his bare skin, your lips wrapped around his, your hot pussy pulsing, and flashes of light casting blue shadows around the room. “You gonna cum, E? You feeling good? Is this better than humping my cock, baby? We — ha yes just like that, ride my fingers, baby— we can do b-both now. Just gotta tell Toru when you want to —ngh- feel good, yeah?”

“Yes, Toru. I tell you. Oh, I’m close! That good feeling coming. Don’t stop!”

Even from his angle, your body is rubbing against his cock which he had been steadily grinding against you the entire time. 

Together, you cum. 

“Ah, fuck, E. Ah, shit, oh yeah, baby. So good.”

Your nails are digging into his wrist as you ride out your orgasm, the glow under your skin thrumming devastatingly. He can't help himself; Satoru tilts your head back, lips skimming against each other but not quite pressed together, just gulping down your moans. He loves seeing your eyes too.

In these moments, he sees himself reflected in your eyes the way he sees you reflected in every breath, step, and move he makes. It's like a brand, a punishment for making him so weak. Those glowing blue eyes are his only reprieve for his crimes, the consolation for his depravity, and the very thing that convinces him he's doing right by you.

"T-thank you, Toru," you sigh out, body relaxing and lights shutting off.

He almost misses the pretty lights. "Mmm, you're welcome. Not like I didn't get anything out of it. But I have to say, your pussy took me by surprise. I didn't expect for there to be moving things. And the light! Damn, do you just glow everywhere?"

You hiss, nails digging into his thighs.

"Youch! Hey, what was that for?"

Pushing away from him, you shuffle over to the other end of the tub, holding your knees together as you dip lower into the water, your eyes the only things visible.

Poor baby's sulking and he doesn't even know why.

"Hey, E. Talk to me. What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't scratch something?"

Flicking water at him, you growl, "No."

"Okay, so what's wrong? Uh, hey, don't look at me like that. If you don't talk to me, I'll take away movie privileges."

"No movie?"

"No. Movie."

SPLASH!

Dumbfounded, Satoru sits there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair with his mouth open. In front of him is a woman who's playing with some bubbles, the picture of innocence. "Alright. Fine. That's how you wanna play? Stay here by yourself then."

He's out of the bath and towelling off by the time you get to him, arms wrapping around his waist as you smush your face against his chest. Forcing his limbs to not embrace you, he waits patiently for your next move.

Though he would never want to upset you or make you feel like he's mad at you, he has enough tact to know permitting your bad behaviour even once would only spell trouble for him in the future.

"Come." You urge him to bring his face closer and so he does. Then, with gentle hands, you wipe the suds from his cheeks and grab a small towel to dry his hair. He lets you ruffle it around with the 'swooosh swoosh swoooosh' sounds he makes when he does yours.

Once dry, he peeks out from under the towel and his gaze softens. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I did wrong."

You sigh. "You make fun of me. My body. You think I'm...weird. Am I not pretty like women in movies? Like Rapunzel?"

His heart breaks. Literally. He feels it give up on him and shatter into tiny little fragments, like mere reflections of stars on a dirty puddle on the road.

"Oh, no, E, baby. Hey, listen," he urges. Grabbing your face, he presses a kiss on your nose and smiles a little when you crinkle it. "I think you're pretty. Very pretty. Prettier than Rapunzel. Prettier than everyone else. I'm sorry I made you think that I think your body's weird. No, of course not. Sure, it's different but so am I to you, I'm sure. I was just taken by surprise because of how new it all is. I think it's very cool. I think you're cool, okay? Tell me you understand, sweet thing."

"I pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Stunning. Ethereal."

Flattening your bare body against him, he feels every curve and has to will his dick to stay asleep. Then, with a much lighter tone, you ask, "You like me, Toru? More than movie girls?"

He whispers against your head, "Yeah. I like you more than them. I like you more than anyone else in the world. In fact, I like you too much to let anyone take you away."

"Someone take me away?"

Then, with a fierce resolution burning in his eyes, he swears with all the cursed technique swirling in his veins, "No. Never."

[daenysx]

Maybe some James potter smut since it’s his birthday? (Idk if it’s still his bday where you are but whatever)

happy birthday to the loveliest boy ever ♡

-send me drabble requests!

james potter x fem!reader, smut

James tells you he's proud of you all the time.

Every time he does it, his words leave a gentle rush of waves in your stomach. Something crawling slowly, like he's gonna ruin you. He looks at you with widened eyes, a small smile curled up on his lips, and you are dying to kiss him.

He whispers it, the first time in three days, and your fingers on the keyboard slow down. His voice sends shivers down your spine and it's a delicious feeling how he can make your mind go blank with only a few words. You press your cheek on your shoulder, a lazy attempt to get back to your senses. James takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck.

"Jamie," you murmur. He knows what he's doing, never clueless when it comes to you. "I have to finish this."

"You've got an entire night ahead of you, angel," he mumbles. "Can I maybe have some of your attention?"

Fuck him for being so sweet. He plays his part well to distract you, craving your attention like he's been starved for it all day.

"I can help you with your work later," he offers when you stay silent. "If you take a break with me."

James has a pair of convincing eyes and when he watches you like he needs you, you can't keep doing your work properly. You turn your face to him, recognize the vulnerable look in his face.

"Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods.

"Just tired," he replies. "I, um, kinda had an argument with Tom today."

Tom is one of his closest friends on the team, a person who makes his long training sessions more bearable. They don't really argue, this might even be the first time. Your brows get together with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," you say, standing up and leaving your laptop.

"That's okay, we'll probably fix things tomorrow," he says. Sunshine personified, your favorite person in this world. "I just don't want to think about it now."

You take his hand, lead him to bed. It's messy with the blankets thrown over four different colored pillows. A silent practice, how you get your body tangled with his. He lifts his leg to settle it down between your thighs and you press yourself without being embarrassed at all. No need for that, he keeps telling you.

"What were you whispering?" you decide to distract him with a lazy tease. "Before you took me away from my stuff?"

"I'd say you willingly left, but the details are not important, huh?"

He gets on top of you with half of his body, looks at you with hazy eyes. Gorgeous boy.

"And I was just talking about how good you are at what you're doing," he whispers and kisses your cheek. "With that frown on your face when you're upset with it. Or with you biting your lip in pride when you got something right."

"You were watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

You kiss him and he closes his eyes. It's been a long day. He got through it somehow, but being able to relax after a day like this is not easy. Even James Potter needs to be taken care of sometimes.

His fingers are wanting, stroking your waist eagerly. The kiss lasts for a few minutes, whispers of affection lingering in the air between you. Your hands play with his hair, big waves falling in your palms as you move.

You take off your shirt. Nothing happens too fast and it's a good thing. How could he rush this when he got it after wanting so much? Desire pooling in his belly, legs shaking and James swears he could moan when you rub yourself on his thigh.

His shirt's on the floor, too. Every piece of clothing on both of you gets lost and James kisses your inner thigh.

"Get under the blankets," James tells you. "It's cold in here."

You do as he says with his help, pulling his naked body under the soft fabric with you. "I'm feeling really warm," you tell him with a sneaky smile that usually belong to his part of teasing.

"Yeah?" he asks against your collarbones. "Can you show me where?"

You take his hand and drag it slowly to your belly. He does the rest of the job and moves his fingers to your wetness. Sticky sweet under his touch, lazy and wanting. You close your eyes and let him play with you.

James has long fingers and they are thick, but he makes sure they are warm enough every time he touches you. His thumb spends a few second with your clit and he uses others to spread the wetness all over you. You lift your hips when he presses just right, his eyes are glowing with something both exhausted and excited.

"Pretty," he whispers, his fingers find a nice rhytm. It's lazy and slow, a gentle touch on your body and he feels like he belongs here. Right here on the bed, under blankets and his hand never stops touching you. He keeps moving until he has you shaking with a tender wave of shiver.

"It's not gonna end," he murmurs on the side of your neck, his lips not kissing and letting you go mad. "I promise I'll keep going."

He sounds so in love, but so tired. You don't even try to stop yourself from accepting the rush his fingers bring, it's strong and you arch your back. Pleasure has you trembling, it's delicious, and you let out a songlike breath. You want to beg him to kiss your neck, he understands your shaky breaths and finally parts his lips against your pulse point.

His fingers keep moving the way you like. You can't see his face as he's kissing your neck, sucking a little bruise there, you hold the back of his head gently to look at him. A pair of lovesick eyes, his lips are swollen and cheeks warm with desire. You can almost feel him rubbing himself on the sheets, the thought of it is enough to let go.

"James," you whisper, desperate to touch him with your free hand. He stays still. "Don't do it yourself, I wanna help. Please, oh-"

He doesn't listen. He can't. His hands are busy and he can't breathe, he needs to come undone. Adjusting his hips, he gets some stimulation from the sheets, enough to make him moan. "I'm so tired, I need to come with you. I can't- can't wait, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Let me touch," you say in a demanding but soft voice. "Let me help."

James listens to you this time, he knows you'll do a better job. He comes up a bit higher in bed for you to reach him, you eagerly extend your hand to feel. It's not difficult to get him right there with you, the moment before the peak. He closes his eyes and puts his head on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple to ground himself. He's moving his hips against your hand, a big breath ready on his chest.

You come with a moan. James thinks it's the prettiest sound ever. With the rush of the moment, you move your hand faster and he follows you. Your mind goes blank, the world gets blurry. James stays on your chest, his body feels heavier now that he's relaxed. You love seeing him like this, without the anxiety his day left behind.

"Need to clean us up," he mumbles. He's half asleep. "It's uncomfy."

You smile softly. He doesn't even have the energy to blink. "Stay for a while," you tell him, your hand in his hair to fix his waves. "We can do it later."

It's tempting and James is easily convinced. Your chest is the perfect pillow, his head moves as you take calm breaths. Rubbing the tired muscle between his shoulder and neck, you urge him to fall asleep. He forgets everything other than your touch.

[22ayla21]

hello! I love your writing style, it’s so warm and almost nostalgic. I wanted to request a fem!reader (prefect/yuu) x Leona, who is tired of being strong. Who people see as a rounded person, but who’s not a pushover, but she hides the fact she wants to be soft and protected for just a bit. Maybe a cozy visit to Ramshackle with rain? (Bonus Grimy cuddles)

A Moment of Vulnerability

She had always been strong, independent, supporting others, but Leona showed her that she could also let her guard down and be weak, but protected.

The rain drummed on the roof of Ramshackle, enveloping the old mansion in a soft veil of sound. The room was dim, illuminated by the warm light of a bedside lamp. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees, listening to the sound of the rain.

The day had been long. Exhausting.

As usual, she was the one everyone could rely on. The one who could handle anything. The one who would never break. No one even considered that she might also have a hard time. Everyone saw her as strong, confident, well-rounded. Yes, she might not possess magic, but she always found a way to overcome difficulties.

But sometimes, she just wanted someone to say, "You can be weak. I'll take care of you."

A sudden knock on the door made her jump. Who else could come in such weather?

Getting up, she went to the door and opened it slightly.

On the doorstep, soaked, with disheveled hair, stood Leona Kingscholar.

"Did you stand in the rain?" she asked, amazed by his unexpected appearance.

He didn't answer immediately. His amber eyes carefully studied her face, as if trying to catch something. Then he sighed and, without waiting for an invitation, stepped inside.

"Couldn't find someone easier to deal with?" he smirked, shaking raindrops from his hair.

She frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're always on your own, always trying to handle everything. I'm tired of watching you tear yourself apart."

She froze.

Leona looked at her intently, his gaze softening.

"You don't always have to be strong."

These words struck her soul. She felt something inside her tremble, like the lump in her throat grew heavier.

"But if I'm not strong..." her voice broke.

"What?"

She didn't know how to answer.

What if she broke, and there was no one to support her? What if it turned out that she wasn't really needed by those around her if she stopped being "that one"—reliable, stable, unwavering?

But Leona wasn't going to wait for an answer. He simply walked closer and, without saying a word, pulled her into a warm, firm embrace.

She stiffened.

His arms were warm, even after the rain. They didn't demand, didn't impose—they just supported.

She couldn't hold back.

The tears she had held back for so long slid down her cheeks. She buried her face in his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his uniform, afraid that if she let go, everything would disappear.

"Just be weak," he said softly.

And she allowed herself to be.

Allowed the tears to flow down her cheeks. Allowed the shivers to run through her body. Allowed herself to lean on someone, just once.

They stood like that while the rain raged outside.

When she felt better, she exhaled and said quietly, "Thank you."

Leona didn't answer, only cupped her head in his hand, gently smoothing her hair.

"Stop crying already, go to bed," he grumbled, but his voice was softer than usual.

She nodded, wiping away the last tears.

And then something fluffy nudged her side.

"Stop hugging Leona! Hug me too!" Grim declared indignantly, settling on her lap.

She laughed, hugged Grim, and Leona just snorted.

"Well, now you have another protector."

She smiled.

Today she allowed herself to be weak. And it turned out that the world didn't fall apart because of it.

[aventurineswife]

Time traveller reader, who can't seem to keep things linear. Always meeting out of order, sometimes knowing stuff that will happen and other times not knowing who they're with. (Kinda like River Song's backwards timeline from Doctor Who)

I'm sure everyone gets somewhat annoyed by it in some form...anyways, reader goes on to be all sappy saying something like "I'm glad you're a constant in my life" or something to that degree.

Semi-established relationships, with Boothill, Dr Ratio, Aventurine and who ever else might fit!

A Constant in My Chaos

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Time Traveler!Reader, Non-linear Relationships , Emotional Moments, Fluff with a Hint of Angst, Slow Burn (Implied), Character Introspection, Found Family Dynamics (Implied).

Warnings: Mild angst, Themes of time travel confusion (non-linear narrative), Reader feeling lost or unsure of timelines, Ambiguity in relationship progression due to non-linearity.

The bright lights of a bustling spaceport flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the cold, metallic surface of the docking bay. Boothill adjusted the brim of his hat, his teeth glinting as he smirked. He was waiting, but for who, he wasn’t sure.

“Boothill!” your voice called from behind, breathless but full of excitement.

He turned, his eyes narrowing, the in his pupils reflecting the dim light. You looked different—again. Time had a funny way of twisting you into knots.

“Now, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes,” Boothill drawled, though his posture tensed. “What year is it this time? You know me, or am I just another stranger to ya?”

Your face fell slightly, and he hated how it tugged at something deep in his mechanical chest. “I know you. Of course I do,” you said, stepping closer. “I don’t know what year it is for you, though. For me...you’ve always been there, somehow.”

Boothill’s smirk faltered, replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability. “Always? That’s a mighty big claim for someone who keeps poppin’ in and out of my life like a ghost.”

You reached out, placing a hand on the red scarf around his neck. “I’m sorry if it’s frustrating. I never know when—or where—I’ll end up. But no matter where I go, or when I meet you...you’re a constant in my life, Boothill. And that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

For a moment, the cyborg cowboy was silent. Then, he tipped his hat slightly, his teeth flashing in a lopsided grin. “Guess I ain’t all bad if you keep comin’ back, huh?”

The sprawling halls of the Intelligentsia Guild glittered with intricate designs and cascading lights. Ratio sat at his desk, wavy hair falling over his face as he scribbled notes furiously. He didn’t hear you enter until you dropped into a seat across from him.

“Back already?” he asked without looking up, his eyes briefly flickering toward you. “Or should I say, forward?”

“Depends,” you replied, leaning your elbows on the desk. “Do you know me yet?”

Ratio finally set his pen down, his skin glowing faintly under the lights. “Oh, I know you,” he said smoothly. “You’re the one who comes and goes like the wind, spouting riddles and truths you aren’t even sure of yourself. Of course, it’s maddening.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s fair. I must be frustrating.”

“Unbearably so,” Ratio said, but his voice lacked venom. “Yet somehow, you always manage to pique my interest. I’ve yet to determine why.”

You leaned back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Because you’re one of the few people who doesn’t treat me like a puzzle to be solved. You let me just...be.”

Ratio’s sharp gaze softened, his fingers steepling under his chin. “Interesting hypothesis,” he murmured. “But why bother coming back here, to me, when there’s an entire timeline out there waiting for you?”

“Because,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes, “no matter where I end up, you’re my constant, Ratio. My anchor in all this chaos.”

For once, Ratio didn’t have a clever retort. He simply nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The luxurious casino shimmered with gold, a symphony of laughter and the clatter of dice filling the air. Aventurine lounged at a card table, his eyes lazily scanning the room. When he saw you approaching, his ever-present smile widened.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little enigma,” he purred, gesturing for you to sit. “What brings you here this time? Or should I say, which version of you am I getting today?”

You slid into the chair across from him, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “I think I’m late,” you admitted. “You already know me, don’t you?”

Aventurine chuckled, shuffling the deck in his hands with practiced ease. “Oh, darling, I know you better than most, but that’s not saying much, is it?” He dealt you a card. “How about you tell me what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, fingers brushing against the edge of the card. “It’s...hard, sometimes. Not knowing when I’ll see you again. Or if you’ll even recognize me. But somehow, you always do.”

“Of course I do,” Aventurine said softly, his tone unusually sincere. “I never forget a gamble worth taking.”

You smiled, though your voice wavered. “You’re more than that to me. No matter where—or when—I end up, you’re a constant in my life, Aventurine. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

For a moment, Aventurine’s confident mask faltered, a flicker of genuine emotion crossing his face. Then, he grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, aren’t you sweet? But don’t worry, darling—I’ll always be here. After all, what’s life without a little chaos?”

[howlingmod]

SIT NEXT TO ME!

summary - how some of the survivors and killers show their love ... giggles

misc - low quality content im so tire .... but i must write .... it is demanded of me .....

Noob - Physical Touch

-Simple pleasure, simple guy, what can I say.

-It's not even something they're aware of half the time, a big part of what probably tipped you off to their feelings for you in the first place was their touchiness. While they're more physical with everyone, it definitely lingered with you more. They'd stick closer to you on excursions and, more often than not, would be brushing shoulders with you when working on generators.

-They just like being able to feel your presence, it's grounding to them in a big way. A lot of the time they'll have a hand on you just because it feels comforting, usually it's on your shoulder or they'll reach for your arm if you've got one free (they prefer holding onto your arm/hooking arms more than handholding to be honest ... it just feels so much more secure and special !!)

-Late at night they'll frequently fidget with your hands, looking at all the lines in your palms and the little cuts and marks that litter your skin. It puts them in a trance, you're just so gorgeous to them, in that human, real kinda way. It's hard for them to put into words ...

007n7 - Physical Touch

-Before .... everything, he's a lot more varied. If anything, he probably leaned more towards acts of service- he likes making your life easier, especially with you (presumably) helping him raise c00lkid. It's not easy being a parent, he knows how stressful it and daily living in general can be. He feels good if he can make your day a little less stressful.

-Now though, he really needs that grounding. There's just so much missing. He's not really on great terms with anyone here and he knows he deserves it. You're all he has left. You're the only shred of his perfect life left.

-It's the little things when you guys are around others, the way he sticks to your side, the times where he'll subtly reach for your hand and squeeze it in reassurance, where he'll hug you when you get back from an excursion and look you over. It's the little bits of vulnerability he can spare to show you he loves you.

-Other times, it's more desperate, tight clinging to your form when you lay together because everything's suddenly clamped down on him like a million weights. It's those times that feel most like a perverted version of the ways you used to lay together when things were better, less suffocating and mournful. Sometimes you still expect the door to your room to open and c00lkid to crawl under the sheets with you two. He never does.

Shedletsky - Quality Time

-Ohhh my god this guy does not shut up. He's always got some story to tell you about, some little anecdote that something you said or something that happened reminded him of. You never really know how accurate he's being to reality, you can make your guesses but he'll only ever smile and shrug if you ask for confirmation.

-It could come off as egotistical or annoying if it weren't fairly obvious it was his way of keeping morale up. What, you think he's making things up? Why, he'd never! You'll just have to argue with him about it if you care so much. It's just a way of keeping your mind on something other than your current situation, even if it means he has to be the butt of a joke more than a few times. Besides, he just thinks playfighting with you is fun sorryyyyy <//3

-That being said, he can be serious. What you two are going through isn't exactly easy, you can't always ignore it, you have to face it head on sometimes. If you wanna talk about how scared you feel not knowing what's going to happen, he'll listen and admit he's scared too. If you wanna talk about how hopeless everything feels, he'll admit he's felt the same way a few times before. He might not be as emotional but he's forthcoming with his experiences, the last thing he wants you to feel is alone, if he can make you feel heard and helped then he's happy to admit to every bad dream that's ever haunted him.

-It'll always end with some little glimmer of hope, no matter how vague. He can't afford to lose you to apathy, he'll spin as many tales and sneak as many wishes he has for the two of you into your conversations as it takes for you to keep going just a little longer. He doesn't know what the future looks like, but he wants you to be there with him to see it.

Dusekkar - Acts of Service

-While they're more than good with their words and freely give out their praise to you, they also worry about your physical well-being frequently. Even if you're in good standings, they'll be keeping an eye on you. It's just a habit they've picked up protecting the others that's amplified tenfold for you. Perhaps they're a little biased with their shields, but they couldn't bear to lose you.

-They'll make your life easier in any way that they can, they know that the stress of everything can add up and they want you to stay strong despite it. They can't stand idly by and let you fall to the wayside, rotting in fear and pain. How could they ever truly protect you if they allowed for you to crumble right in their arms?

-It's little things- letting you sleep in longer, making sure you get a little extra food even if it means sacrificing some of their portion, hovering around you whenever you head out on an excursion. You're their world, their muse, their heart- they'll make sure you know how important you are to them and how deeply they care for your health in every way they can, it's what you deserve.

John Doe - Acts of Service(?)

-John's a weird one. He only has so much he can do for you without risking hurting you. If he sticks around you too often that could alert the other survivors and cause them to attack you. He can take bullets, you can't. Additionally, he has to be careful, that corrupted arm of his isn't exactly gentle. He knows fully that he could crush you, kill you in the blink of an eye if he isn't careful. So, he has to settle for little gestures.

-He'll leave you alone when he hunts. He'll heard you in the direction of generators, supplies, warm corners free from the chilling wind. If everyone else dies he'll walk you back home, paint you with their blood to make sure it doesn't look suspicious. He'll watch from afar till you disappear into the closed doors of your 'base.' Even then, you suspect he doesn't leave until later, hovering around as a spare set of eyes and ears on you.

-Even then, he's selfish, takes gambles when he hangs around you for just a little while longer. He'll contort, physically pulling the shoulder of his monstrous arm as far back as he can to avoid the chances of even brushing it against you when he reaches for you with the other. He'll keep it restrained, muscles pulled taut just to keep you to his side in a rare moment of peace. He's a man of few words, you can only imagine what his vocal chords have been turned into, but if you push your head close enough to his chest you just might hear him breathe out an "I love you" in between the pained labor of his lungs.

1x4 - Gift giving

-Likewise, he also can't stick around for very long. That doesn't mean he won't make a lasting mark on you. He's more risky, he knows that if the others found out and tried anything he could paint the walls red with them all before they could even lay a finger on you. He thinks he could take care of you far better than they could, provide a better home, protect you better than they could ever try to. More than once he's thought about faking your death, making a bloody scene for the others to find so he can take you from them. They're only a burden on you, a risk you (for whatever reason) worry yourself with.

-He won't force you, he's some humanity left, but that doesn't mean he won't show them up (to him, at least). He'll present you with enough jewels and gold to make an officiant pale with the dried gums of blood in between the joints, kick supplies in your direction and rip them from the hands of fallen survivors to give to you, he's offered up fingers, bones and heads as a show of his prowess and only grumbles when you turn them down.

-He'll never understand why you bother yourself in the ways you do, taking others under your wing when they can't do anything but leech off of you in return, so he'll have to make up for their inabilities instead. Where they can only take, he'll give you more than you could've ever dreamed for. It's his way of displaying how special you are to him, the pride he takes in you just as you do him. Consider himself a dragon and you the lucky singular he allows into his hoard.

+ (PLATONIC/FAMILIAL) C00lkid - N/A

-Well ... c00lkids always really liked spending time with you and dad! Dad always had cool stories about all the stuff he got up to when he was younger and you always had fun games to play with him and dad. Sometimes you'd draw with him and happily hang up his art to admire everytime you went through the kitchen before work and then he'd spend the whole day drawing more and more for you to look at, making up stories (that usually involved dracobloxxers) and worlds to tell you all about during dinner.

-Other times you guys would play tag! Usually it didn't last very long, at some point you'd get tired and have to sit down for a while and do something else with him (SAD!) but you'd been running a lot more recently! He hadn't been able to tag you in a whiiile, but he knows he will eventually! You've just been giving him another challenge to overcome like you always did, ducking around corners and over ledges. It's hard, he's scraped his knees pretty bad a few times and run into the walls more than he can count, but he always gets back up!

-It's a little weird to him though. He's never really played with anyone other than you and dad. He doesn't really know why those other people are there. You won't tell him. You never stop running. (He misses when you'd get tired, when you'd stop and hold him while you watched a movie together instead.) (He misses you and dad talking to eachother, telling him stories and dancing with him in the kitchen.) (Did he do something wrong? Are you mad at him? Why won't either of you just TALK to him!-) (If he stops chasing you, won't you be sad? Would he be disappointing you?)

-Sometimes he suddenly gets very sad. Sometimes you stand still and look at him from afar and you don't smile at him. Just stare and have this weird, long-gone look he's never seen before. He thinks about walking up to you, asking what's wrong, if you and dad hate him, why you always run but he knows you'll just run again. Instead he just chases after everyone else and wishes dad would order pizza again and you would put band-aids over the cuts on his knees from falling and the pricks of branches on his arms.

[softnspiky]

Trafalgar Law Headcanons

(That no one asked for)

☆ He has generally good hygiene and showers often, but Law is bad about washing his hair. It feels like a waste of time, since he wears a hat constantly. He uses a lot of dry shampoo to look presentable. Everybody has one hygiene thing they're lazy ab, and for Law, it's his hair.

☆ Socially awkward. Anytime this man has rizz, it's because he rehearsed in his head beforehand, or got lucky/accidental. (It's ok, we love him anyway)

☆ Carries hand sanitizer (he gets unscented, but bonus points if his significant other gets him one of those glittery rubber holders in the shape or a polar bear or something, and gets some scented ones for him to try. If people comment on what smells so good, he never admits that it's his hand sanitizer, but he DOES use them and secretly likes them.)

☆ He's highly perceptive/tuned in to the people around him. He may not be participating in the conversation, but he's following every word and picking up on emotional queues from people's tone. (This is bc of his time in the Doflamingo family. I headcanon Robin this way, too. They developed this habit to survive.)

☆ Wants to be COOL (if the tattoos aren't evidence enough, look at how this man presents himself.) If his design didn't have to be re-drawn so much, I fully believe it would include more jewelry: rings, necklaces, bracelets, a belt chain. This man shops at hot topic; have you seen his under-eye makeup? But ye, very much wants to be perceived as cool, mysterious, and powerful.

*This is largly a coping mechanism he picked up bc of the Doflamingo family, where keeping up appearances and having a cool exterior was literally a method of survival.

☆ Calculation has become second nature to him in social situations, so it's hard for him to relax and "be himself" when he's in a safe space to do so. The Heart Pirates and the Straw Hats must often remind him. "It's just us, you're safe, no judgments here, relax," ex.

☆ Probably goes without saying, but he absolutely has trust issues and struggles to be vulnerable.

☆ In a relationship, his love languages would be quality time and acts of service (giving), and words of affirmation and physical touch (receiving).

☆ Law typically refrains from smoking or drinking alone, but he will sometimes partake if offered in a social setting.

☆ However, Law does drink caffeine excessively. Definitely has a caffeine addiction even though he knows it's bad for him. Tries to spread his caffiene into different formats bc it feels less like an addiction if he doesn't have to confront the "i had 3 monsters today" issue in his mind (because instead he had a monster and a coffee and tea and snacked on caffeinated chocolate.)

☆ He struggles with insomnia and has a hard time getting real deep sleep that's uninterrupted by unpleasant dreams or sounds from the crew. He's a light sleeper even without any caffeine and doesn't typically find much relief from sleeping.

☆ Sharing a bed would be a big thing for him in a relationship. He would sleep much more deeply with another presence in bed. A physical reminder of his safety keeps him grounded. (He slept so well when he traveled with Cora for this reason.) His s/o would also be able to help convince him to come to bed, simply to receive snugs. This has a positive impact on his overall mental and physical health.)

*I see Law not getting enough rest/not allowing himself to rest as a subconscious form of self harm/punishment from his survivor's guilt. :(

☆ He is a sucker for cute things. Look at Bepo. Heck, look at the Polar Tang. He tries to keep this under wraps bc it would humanize his mysterious, uncaring Surgeon of Death persona. Here's a list of things I think Law would secretly adore: beanie babies, keychains, patterened socks with sushi or Sanrio characters on them, *hidden under his boots and skinny jeans

☆ Law runs cold. Perhaps it's a side effect of his disease that never quite went away after he cured himself. I know he would be used to the cold after spending so much time in a submarine, but he's usually in a big coat of some kind regardless. At the very least, he has poor circulation to his feet. His s/o would be in for a shock, brushing up against his toes when sharing a bed. Those mfers are CLAMMY.

☆ Definitely has shrimp posture

☆ Has some mother hen habits as a result of being a doctor. He reminds his crew (through gritted teeth) to drink water, wear sunscreen and sunglasses, eat enough protien ex. They know it's his way of showing he cares for them, so they don't mind. He usually receives a chuckle followed by an "Aye-aye Captain".

☆ Law carries a fanny pack. (Hidden on his back beneath his coat) I cannot explain how I know this, only that it is true.

☆ I see him being a trinket guy. He has a drawer of random stuff that he's picked up from the islands he's been to. Bits of nature, ephemera. To the untrained eye, it's a drawer of useless items, but to him, they're mementos. Law doesn't have many good memories, or much of anything from his childhood, so he holds onto items that have significance, even if he probably doesn't need to. (Hence the hat) He does open the drawer from time to time and look through them, especially if he's feeling lonely.

☆ Despite this, he generally doesn't have a lot of possessions. He's used to traveling and wandering, not settling. He packs light, and most of his stashed items are back at the Tang. If he picks up keepsakes, they're nearly always pocket sized. (Fanny pack, I'm telling ya)

~~~

That's all for now! Lmk what you think in replies :>

The art is an edit of a piece by Gokujounomaguro on Twitter! They make sooo much gorgeous Law fanart 😍

[deluluforseventeen]

POV: Where I Belong

(Seungkwan X Y/N)

The apartment is quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV playing in the background. The day had been long—busy schedules, endless conversations, the weight of expectations pressing on Seungkwan’s shoulders. But now, here, in the warmth of your embrace, he finally lets out a deep sigh.

You gently run your fingers through his hair as he rests against your chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. “Tired?” you ask softly.

He nods, but instead of answering, he just holds you a little tighter.

There’s something different about him tonight—less playful, less full of his usual bright energy. It’s as if the weight of the world has finally caught up to him. And yet, even in his exhaustion, he still melts into you, like this is the one place where he doesn’t have to be anything but himself.

After a moment, he speaks, voice barely above a whisper. “You know… I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You freeze slightly at the sudden confession, but he doesn’t stop.

“Sometimes, it feels like I have to be Seungkwan—the one who makes people laugh, who keeps the energy up, who makes everything feel okay.” He exhales softly. “But with you… I don’t have to try so hard. I can just be.”

Your heart aches at his words, at the quiet vulnerability laced between them. You tighten your hold around him, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You don’t have to be anything but yourself with me,” you murmur. “That’s more than enough.”

He lets out a soft, shaky laugh, burying his face deeper into your warmth. “That’s why I love you, you know?” His voice is even softer now, but full of so much meaning. “Because with you, I finally feel like I’m where I belong.”

You don’t need to say anything in return. Instead, you just hold him a little closer, letting the quiet speak for itself. Because here, in this moment, where no expectations exist, where he’s just Seungkwan—not an idol, not a performer, just a person who loves and is loved—you know that this is all he’s ever needed.

And you’ll make sure he never forgets it.

[localmentallyillwriter]

Playing with Sigmas hair and cuddling him would cure all my mental illnesses btw 🤭 (THERES ALSO ONLY LIKE 2 SIGMA GIF BTW 😭😭)

Who would have guessed, me actually writing on my blog originally intended for writing ? Any who, I got a sudden spark to write something with Sigma, and allll i want to do is just play with his hairrrrr >.<

Gn! reader x Sigma (relationship, partners)

(sorry if the reader is more ooc)

Genre: Fluff and comfort

Synopsis: Giving this poor insecure man some cuddles and braiding/playing with his hair

Word count: 787 words

Fine for all to read !!!!

Sigma sighed softly, drawing the brush over and over through his long-tangled hair. The milky white and lilac purple colours of silky hair all mixed and tangled together. He loved his hair a lot, he thought it made him look fabulous, but on the days were all he wanted to do was sleep forever, taming the strands felt like the biggest hurdle of his life. He considered giving up, letting his hair be a spikey mess on his head, but that wasn’t professional. That wasn’t the image he wanted for himself.

“Sigma ?” You asked, tiredly walking into the bathroom, dressed clad in one of his cosy white button downs. It smelt exactly like him, marshmallows and lavender. You waddle over, the drowsiness of just waking up still in full affect, making your body feel groggy as you slump on his back, rested your chin on his shoulder, slightly looking at the mirror. He looked flustered, a soft pink hue colouring his cheeks.

“What are you doing up so early dear ? Its only 5, please go back to sleep and get some rest.” Sigma said clearing his throat before turning to instead cup your jaw in his slender hands. He leant down to rest his forehead against yours.

“Welll, you’re up, so I am now.” You say, a soft laugh coming from you as you lazily drew your arms around his waist.

“Ah…My apologise dear. I didn’t mean to wake or disturb you.” Sigma assumed that you were staying up because he had been too noisy.

“Goodness Sigma.” You mutter under your breath. You had noticed since dating him he always thought that he was the problem. Behind closed doors, or any place where he was more vulnerable, he was quite the miserable, insecure man. That no matter how good he did something, it wasn’t enough for him, it broke your heart a bit. Sigma had been as quiet as a mouse, you just wanted to stay up with him to keep him company.

Sigma felt uncomfortable now, the feeling of your arms, feeling like a vice grip instead of a gentle wrap, so he slightly pushed out of the hug, giving you a slightly awkward glance, fiddling with his fingers like he was going to say something before he simply turned back around and started to lazily brush his hair. His eyes just slightly wider now as he stared at the sink, not daring to look in the mirror in fear of catching your gaze, which he was sure was filled of annoyance.

You sighed softly, reaching out very carefully to place your hand on the top of his head. He flinches softly but soon relaxes as he feels your fingers start to trail and run through his hair, starting to untangle any remaining knots.

“Your so pretty Sigma…I love you to much for you to be anything but a treasure.” You whisper to him, leaning over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He doesn’t say anything, but you see the small smile finding its way to Sigma's soft pink lips.

“Your hair though…its quite long isn’t it. You should let me braid it >:3”

And that’s how you and Sigma ended up in this place. Sigma's face resting on your lap as you braided his long hair. His hair was airy and smooth, you had braided his hair, but the sleepy look had melted your heart, so all you were doing was playing with his hair, giving his face soft caresses.

His arms were draped around your waist, his thumb sometimes rubbing circles on your hips, the occasional soft sound of approval and enjoyment rumbling from Sigma throat. He was utterly adorable like this; you could hardly resist. You tugged him up more onto your body, wrapping your arms around him tightly, burying your face into the top of his head, the scent of his lavender shampoo was overwhelming in the best way possible.

This awoke Sigma a bit more, blinking a couple times. He looked up at you with his purple eyes, seeming a bit foggy and dazed from being woken and out of his peaceful state.

“Oh ! Sorry, that was a lot longer than I expected…Uhm, I don’t mean to crush you or anything.” Sigma started to push off, but you clung on tighter. Sigma hesitated, his eyes widening as instead of displeasure, he seemed to be causing pleasure and happiness for you.

Slowly, gently Sigma bought his arms around you again and he snuggled into your chest, letting his eyes close once more. Your hands found its way to those silly locks again, twirling them around your fingers as Sigma found rest on his partner.

so sorry if this is badly written or odd, i feel like this is more ooc 😅 im also editing this when im supposed to be eeping 🥺

[linkons-most-wanted]

WIP Snippet - Starry Song

I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING

A relevant moment from Beyond Cloudfall:

Aside from searching for places to plunder, the dragon and I often meet at the top of the lair. Sometimes, I tell him stories I've heard. He rarely speaks, as if he's engrossed. Or perhaps he just wants someone to watch the moon with him. Occasionally, the dragon talks about himself. He speaks about the myriad of dragon-slaying weapons in his treasure trove and the 108 ways humans have tried to kill him. But most of the time, we just sit together and say nothing. The gentle night smooths his sharp scales and reveals his true form.

~*~*~

I stare up at that starry expanse. My eyes have adjusted enough now that I can trace each little star in the sky, even with the center of my vision. For no reason other than that I feel like it, I start to hum a song. It’s only when I forget the rest that I realize it’s the same one from my dream, the one that Sylus and I played on the pipe organ at that chapel.

As the last note falls out with a sigh, I look over at Sylus.

He’s been watching me. Something open and vulnerable shines in his eyes, and as long as I don’t think too directly about it, I know what it is. I shuffle towards him, resting my hand on his cheek and kissing his forehead. His eyes close with a sigh and he leans into me.

I feel a strange and intangible sadness, and my palm presses against his neck, finding his pulse. I need to feel his heartbeat right now. I need to know that he’s alive and with me. It’s suddenly the most important thing in the world. My grip tightens. His palm lands over mine.

Our breathing finds the same rhythm.

My lips still brush his forehead. All these deep, unutterable feelings coalesce into a few simple, whispered words. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”

His hand squeezes mine, and his brow furrows slightly beneath my lips. I gently kiss the tension away.

Sylus lets out a slow, quiet breath as if he’s been holding it for a very long time.  He lifts his head to press his forehead against mine.

“It’s alright,” he says, voice soft. Tender fingers trace the edges of my face, the area beneath my eyes. “You’re still you.”

I search his gaze, as if it too is a night sky whose full breadth I could perceive if only I could look at it the right way, could let my eyes adjust to all the subtle glimmers in those depths. “I want to remember.”

He lifts my hand to his cheek and nuzzles into it. “If you remember, then… you remember. If you don’t, then… you don’t.”

“Is that what you meant by ‘a cruel twist of fate’?”

His eyes search mine for a long while. Then he leans back and gazes up at the sky again. I tuck against his side, resting my head against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat fill my mind. His arm wraps around me, gentle fingers tracing my waist and hip.

Some things remain beyond words for now.

[chevroletdean]

Good grief, what is this? This has to be ragebait, and if it is, I'm falling for it, lol. I'm sorry you had to wake up to this, Alex. Anon, you're lucky Alex is such a kind soul, her response is nicer than anything I would've come up with.

Imagine sharing something for free that you're proud of, only to have some stranger be like "Actually, there's something wrong with this. 🤓" and then on top of it, they expect you to... what? Be thankful for their uncalled for, oh so helpful insight?

Please, and I'm saying this to you, Alex, and any other writers, don't let anyone kill your vibe. To write (or generally to be creative within fandom spaces as the same applies to, say, fanart or fanedits) always means making yourself a little vulnerable. People forget that publishing something someone poured their heart into can be quite personal. Wanting others to respect that is not asking too much.

So yes, if someone complains (not critiques constructively, complains) in the comments, Alex definitely has a right to stand her ground. Or even to "ignore" said complaint, because she doesn't owe you an explanation. What do you expect, Anon? What is she supposed to learn from that comment? Should she delete and rewrite everything from scratch, crawl on all fours and ask for forgiveness?

It's a shame some people do not recognize the sheer amount of thought that goes into writing. Even if you didn't enjoy the story, or parts of it, nobody can deny the fact that time and effort went into writing 20k+ (!!!) words. Over. 20,000. Words. With 1.5 spacing, Times New Roman 12 pt. that would be over 60 juicy A4 pages. You think someone just poops that out mindlessly? Dismissing that is just straight up rude.

It's one thing to receive (useful) feedback that might help writers improve (though please know that not everyone is looking for feedback in the first place, and I don't understand what triggers someone to still voice their opinion when nobody asked for it). It's an entirely different thing to have people be straight up mean about it.

Nobody is forcing anyone to like a fanfic, or hell, even someone's writing in general. I have authors whose writing style I enjoy more than others, but I don't go out of my way and ruin their day. Sometimes a story isn't my cup of tea, but I can still acknowledge the effort behind it.

This isn't Goodreads, Anon. We're not on Amazon either. It's Tumblr. In my 13+ years on this website, I have never seen this as a page where people consume (sponsored, edited, and officially published with the intention to sell, mind you -- all resources your average fanfic writer on Tumblr simply doesn't have) content to then give it an X/5-stars rating.

This is, and always has been, the reblog site. Meant for you to find stuff you think is cool. Now, you obviously can't think everything is cool, so those other things which don't spark joy for you, you simply scroll past. Maybe block, if you absolutely hate it, and go about your day. Hope that helped, Anon!

I saw your reply to a comment and I don't understand why you get so defensive when someone criticizes your writing. Isn't that allowed? That's the problem with Tumblr these days. There are only small groups and anyone who doesn't belong isn't tolerated. I enjoyed reading your stories, but I also found several things that made no sense. It's a shame that criticism is simply ignored.

Ah, what a lovely message to wake up to! 😂

Hello, “anon.” I think I know who you are, but for the sake of this I’ll refer to you as anon.

I believe you’re referencing a comment someone made on If I Stay - Part 2, where they basically said, "This makes no sense and I couldn't bother to finish reading it anyway." What you're saying is it made no sense to you. And as you can see, I don't ignore criticism, I respectfully responded.

You're asking me to tolerate rudeness, anon. I've been writing for about nineteen years, since I was 10 years old. I've gone through a lot of growth as a writer since then, and I still am. I'm not a perfect writer, nor am I expecting everyone to love everything I write.

However, there is a world of difference between "constructive criticism" and "rude criticism."

Constructive criticism takes many forms, but it can look like this:

"There were things I liked about this story [name an example], but I'm sorry, this aspect I just didn't understand/didn't vibe with [insert example]."

^That kind of thing I can respect. It's about the delivery. I've had meaningful discourse with people who didn't vibe with things about my work. We talked it out like adults. However, the comment, "This makes no sense and I couldn't bother to finish reading it anyway" is not constructive. It's a rude, disrespectful complaint.

I spend several days, even weeks or months outlining, researching, drafting, and editing my stories before I post them here and on Ao3 (for free), as many writers do. Because we care about our work and a lot of us take writing seriously.

It takes someone just a few minutes to read something, and just a few seconds to write a negative comment like that.

The only way I know you've "enjoyed my stories" is if you comment and/or reblog a story. That particular person has only ever posted negative comments on my work; therefore, I can only assume they don't like my stories.

"Don't like, don't read" is a thing in fandom for a reason. Words have power, and at their worst, they can make or break a writer's will to write and share more stories (again, for free). It's a very personal thing to write and be creative, and it can be doubly scary for new writers to share them publicly.

So you can ignore this and continue leaving comments like that for writers if you want to, but I doubt it will earn you many friends in the fandom. At least, not from the writers you claim to like.

[fireladybuckley]

I can’t believe a boyfriend made a silly sex joke to lighten the mood after both partners had a moment of vulnerability. The audacity. The horror. The normalcy! Unbelievable. How dare a conversation about feelings turn to levity. How dare a couple have a light chat about trauma-related things over dinner that doesn’t turn into an incredibly deep heart to heart instead of a joke and moving on. Unbelievable. I’m never watching this show again! 👎🏻

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[theood]

A little secret for everyone before I go.to bed and possibly delete this but probably not there was a long chunk of time where I called myself a system and did give space for everyone else in my head to either accept that or just continue on or whatever secret third thing they felt most comfortable with and that never really left in the absolute vaguest way to say it but I still grapple with a lot of weird shit internally so I stopped letting myself call us one but I fall back into the we/us habit so often because it really does ultimately feel a lot nicer/better and there's still a lot of segmenting going on in my head and certain emotions/thought patters that feel very separate to me (ahem. Jinx.) but I keep. Hesitating to fall back to this again because well. It's all in my head I Guess I just. Feel like I'm trampling. Nothing that bad happened. I chose to be isolated as a child and I did HAVE friends and I was just. Poor. I wasn't beat that badly. I was let inside sometimes and they fed me, you know? So how could it be anything else then just... I don't know. PTSD or something else

[dallonwrites]

bestie how the fuck do you start writing again when you haven't written in years bc you're so paralyzed with Fear of Writing Badly mixed with How Do I Get Started and also WHAT do I write about HELP

I WANT to write but every part of it is. so. DAUNTING

Ohhh bestie I have BEEN there. Whenever I take breaks from writing I find myself scared that I'll have just….forgotten to write?? I think the fear of "bad writing" is amplified when you don't write for a while, however long, because you have to like hype yourself up to go back to writing and it's like what if I do all that and then I just can't do it? Returning to writing, especially after a long time, for me has taken a lot of mental work, trying to understand what will make writing fun and healthy for me. A lot of it, honestly, is easier said than done, but also it's mental work you'll keep doing after you start writing again and as you write, and for me it's easier to process my relationship with writing when I am actually writing.

A big part of that mental work for me, and something I think is so valuable, is to reconsider what "bad" writing is and give yourself permission to write it. Sometimes you will think your writing sucks, happens to all of us, but that isn't all it has to be. Like yeah, I'll think something I wrote sucks, but I still wrote it. I can revisit it and work on it and maybe I'll turn it into something I'm happy with. And even if I don't, I still wrote it, I learned from it. Writing does not need to be "good" by whatever standard we're holding it up to for it to have value. And you can delete it! Nobody has to see it! Also you can have fun writing something and still think it's not your best. I've written a lot of "bad" scenes that I had fun with because the scene was entertaining to me! I love when writing turns out how I like it, or I write a banger prose line, but equally I found it helpful to give myself permission to not worry about that all the time and just focus on my interest/enjoyment in what I'm writing, regardless of the "quality". Again, easier said than done, but something I've found easier the more I write, because you'll have bad writing days but you'll also have writing days that are so good

I know a lot of people see writing as a skill that they want to improve, and like I agree it feels really good to see your writing grow, but writing is so much more than the skill and the craft and the theory. There is no objective "perfection" to reach with writing like we are not Sims with levelled skills LOL. Writing is art and creativity and it should be fun and fulfilling. And IMO, the more you focus on what makes writing fun, you will grow and "improve" as a writer a lot quicker and in a way that is a lot more enjoyable than if you treat writing like some icy quest for perfection. You also get to decide what "good" writing is for you/your story. Some of my stories are more prose focused and I'll play more with language, imagery etc. Others are more about the plot and just having fun imagining this scene. Sometimes it's a mix of both. What is "good" writing depends on the writer, story, genre, etc. There is no one way to write.

I'm rambling a lot because I'm just really passionate about this and I cannot express enough how easier writing got, including all the difficult and ugly and frustrating parts, when I gave space to prioritise my enjoyment and fun. People love to romanticise the idea of the "struggling" writer. I see stuff on here and I'm like you guys….writing should be fun. Like yeah sometimes it's hard and we should talk about that but like, you Need to make sure you are having fun. Anyway I'm going to try not to ramble and bullet point some things that helped me:

Make Writing Fun: Lol! Literally whatever makes writing fun. Sometimes I just write super indulgent scenes and the fun of that sets me up to work on my projects. When I work on my projects I try to find what in each scene I'm going to enjoy the most, and focus on that to help me write the rest. I make playlists, moodboards, memes, art etc for my story because it's fun, and it helps me be engaged with my story outside of writing it. Just, have fun.

On productivity: some people will benefit from setting clear goals and running towards them. Some people don't. For me it depends on my headspace. I don't think productivity is a bad thing, it can feel good, but productivity should not be the only reason you write. And the most productive writing process is whichever one makes writing enjoyable for you, because that's how you'll get words on the page

On that note, please be wary of anyone online who who treats the writing advice they share as Fact. I'm not saying every writing teacher out there does...but some of them market it that way! And creators do not have an authority on writing just because they have a platform however big. There are some AMAZING content creators out there who talk about writing, and I have found them motivating, but like just let yourself be picky about who you listen to/engage with. I say this because I consumed some very Strict writing advice when I was younger and it literally contributed to my years long slump so like...I'm picky now LOL

About goals: Personally, gentle goals are what help me get back into writing. Maybe just write for 20 minutes, or write every day for a couple days. When I do word count goals, I base them on how I feel that day, and recently I don't make a word count, I'll transfer it to the next session but smaller. So if I try to write 500 words but can't I'll say okay, lets try 250 next time. Goals can be a great motivator and way to feel achieved, and maybe bigger goals will help you, but you're also allowed to adjust them as you go to make it easier

On finding new ideas, having been there before, you don't need a fully fleshed out idea to start writing. My longest break I came back to writing with...one character and a backstory? If you have stories/characters already you can revisit them, either build on what you have or completely change it. Or if you don't have that, if there's a piece of media you like you can take that concept and play around with it in your own way, or you can even just write fanfic until you have your own idea (if you want your own idea, fanfic is cool too!) You can even just find a cool pic on pinterest and play around with describing it, writing about it, seeing if you can get anything from that. Ideas are everywhere and they can be tiny, and I think if you have that want to write you Will find your story eventually. All writers have had the Idea struggle, but I think the more you engage with writing and think about what concepts and stories interest you already, the more you'll like train yourself to get ideas

That was very long and maybe a lot but like, I am very passionate about this! I've been in writing "slumps" where I didn't know if I would write again, I've started writing again with no ideas, and in those times all I had was the fact I knew I wanted to write. There are a lot of reasons why we end up having long breaks from writing and it is totally normal, sometimes beneficial for us, and we should never give ourselves a hard time for not writing for however long. But also remember that you can always come back. Every one of us has the capacity to create, whatever that looks like, and you can make it as self indulgent and self serving as you want.

[gracemarkss]

trying to gather my thoughts on unruhe. something about this exchange is so vital to me…about how scully maybe isn’t as natural a seeker as mulder. about how her work as a pathologist is focused on “how” rather than “why”…whereas mulder’s profiling is the inverse. a woman is dead and a man killed her and no amount of probing the inner workings of his psyche, his dreams, his nightmares will remedy that situation. discovering the why doesn’t bring about any deeper sense of justice or peace. because really, no why could ever really explain the mundane horror of a woman’s abduction and murder. if anything, it just more starkly reveals the ugly simplicity of the human capacity for cruelty.

but i also love how later, she leans on the why. she channels mulder and his profiler brain. schnauz even picks up on it (“great. now they got you talking like sigmund freud,” in reference to him calling mulder freud during his interrogation). she asks him why he does it. why her. why this. why did his sister kill herself. why did his father do what he did. part of it’s to keep schnauz talking but it’s also another example of how she reaches for him, even metaphorically, in moments of fear and difficulty.

i also love how this episode, with its themes of unrest and strife and trouble, focuses on scully. mulder is usually the more restless character, always searching and seeking and chasing and moving. but scully is just as, if not maybe even more so. her mother’s remaining daughter. her father’s disappointment. a catholic to her bones, even as she lapses. a woman in a man’s job. who imagines a life to be a husband and kids and big sunday dinners, but who can’t stop following the mad man in the basement. who always insists she’s fine, who locks it all away, who chafes and squirms and explodes in impulsive incendiary bursts. who is always always trying.

there are just some things we don’t or can’t look too deeply into. if god is real, or why the woman in front of us is dead. scully will dig and scrape for proof and explanations for many things, but some interrogations aren’t worth the effort, or the fear of what might be found. some things just are, and they’re too big to move or change or overcome. women die because men kill them. what the hell does it matter?

[moe-broey]

My therapist hasn't killed me yet 👍