#the two sillies I so desperately love aren’t here yet but that’s ok

[teddybearty]

Sum MOAR Hundred Liners ✨

[kissagii]

Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question. 

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.” 

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions. 

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name. 

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget? 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target. 

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly. 

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.  

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time. 

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now. 

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.” 

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage. 

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.” 

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.” 

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile. 

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb. 

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.” 

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced. 

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment. 

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration. 

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[djarrex]

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place. 

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready. 

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee. 

“Is... this o-” 

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right. 

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue... 

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds. 

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else. 

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over. 

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material. 

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position. 

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back. 

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is. 

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering. 

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be.  “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit. 

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched. 

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away. 

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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[dorimena]

Hi, I love your work and if your requests are open would you consider the following?

Monoma is on patrol with y/n and Monoma being well....Monoma, he was horny and was teasing y/n. Not having any of this shit, she proceeds to dom the fuck out of him during patrol. She takes him into an alleyway and fucks him with a strap that she had on her already (she was already planning on something but didn’t go through with it because work is work and she’s aware that Monoma and her could take their time when they got home). She pushes him into the wall and fucks him silly. Monoma is loving it and keeps begging “Mommy fuck me more, please!”. She gives him what he wants but she tells him to be quiet or else the bystanders would fine their great Phantom Thief in a puddle of his own cum while getting fucked by his mommy. At some point two civilians hear Monoma panting and hiccuping and get concerned. Y/n keeps fucking him and reassures them that Phantom Thief is fine. He cums then and there and she tells him to reassure the civilians that he’s ok. Monoma whimpers out that he’s fine and y/n cleans him up and cuddles him in the alleyway telling him how much of a good boy he was.

(I’ve been thinking about this ever since I read your shower blowjob story. This man makes the dom in me go crazy. He’s already a whining bitch, having him be like that in the bedroom just- 😫)

Let me say that I’ve had a scene in my head almost the same as this one you sent me and I am absolutely thrilled because yessss more attention to bratty baby Monoma ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And honestly, this man is just asking for it. Bet he wants to fucked anywhere, anytime, as long as he's put back into his place. That's his kink-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, pegging, mommy kink, slight exhibitionism, public sex, mentioned sex toy (butt plug), implied overstimulation, multiple orgasms, implied after care, domme!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; begging, humiliation, Monoma being a little shit, because he wanted your attention, and to rile the fuck out of you, aged-up character: Monoma is 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I unknowingly kind of changed a few things from the ask, like the conversation between Monoma and the bystanders, but I hope you like it anon! The ending is kind of rushed, sorry about that!

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐

“Now, now, y/n, you know ignoring someone, specifically the love of your life, is a crime? How else are you to beg for my love if you go on and ignore my graceful presence? Are you listening to me? At least lend me your attention.”

He’s been like this for the past couple of hours since you’ve both been assigned together for patrol. You thought it’d be a good idea, and Monoma was also excited when your boss told you both to get ready and head to the neighborhood you’re meant to keep a watch over.

The neighborhood turned out not as empty or quiet as you expected, rather close to a busy street. Some stores and restaurants seem to align themselves around this area.

You thought things would go smoothly, go even better and much quicker now that you and your boyfriend are finally patrolling together, months since you’ve transferred to this agency from your old one.

But Monoma’s been leaving any and every snide remark since you two stepped foot into the area, teasing you for any small mistake he believes should be (loudly) called out for or simply trying to mess up your way of doing things.

You don’t even want to count how many times he’s criticized the way your hero outfit currently looks on you. And no, you’re not getting insecure, but rather more… cautious.

There’s a reason why the uniform seems a bit odd around your crotch, but he doesn’t need to know that, not here, not now. Maybe until you both get home-

You trip, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for your boyfriend quickly grabbing you, pulling you up to your feet as he looks at you with panic before it quickly dissipates to his stupid mockery.

“See? You cannot do anything right, not without me at least. You, my dear, cannot live without me yet you still ignored me. This is what I mean when you should listen to me. Anyone would truly be grateful for having me, Phantom Thief, as their beloved lover.”

That’s it. You usually can take so much of his weird comments, but right now he’s pulling anything out of his ass at this point. (Soon you’ll see what actually comes out.)

You don’t answer, just look around to make sure no one is watching as you grab him by his stupid tie, dragging him to the nearest alleyway you remember passing by, glad it’s still pretty empty and dark enough to hide your bodies in the shadows.

He isn’t even struggling, just letting you walk him as if he’s a dog, quietly following you. If you were to turn around, you’d see the way his eyes are wide yet full of lust, his pupils dilated as he mentally cheers, thanking the gods for listening to his horny prayers of being sucked in an alleyway.

Do you know how hard it was for him to not jump you and beg you to help him? All because of how sexy you look in your hero outfit, how the small fixes and modifications bring out more of your body, the body he loves, yearns, desires, every day and night. Hopefully you don’t find his surprise before he can debut it once you guys are back home. (But unintentionally came prepared.)

He’s a complete fool for you, but you can’t know that, or else it’ll be the end of-

“Monoma Neito. You have 5 seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re being a piece of shit tonight.”

He didn’t realize his back is against a cold wall or how you’ve trapped him between your arms, the way you’re glaring at him while counting down in such a low tone, it makes his legs feel weak and threaten to buckle..

“Horny.” He barely whispers, crazed eyes never leaving your face as he stays still, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat as you scan him from head to toe, eyes finally staying in place where his boner is visible, even with how poor the lighting is.

You grin, but not your usual friendly grin or familiar flirty grin, but the ‘I’m gonna fuck you till you die’ kind of grin.

And Monoma’s both terrified yet super, duper much more hornier than before. But, with what are you going to fuck him with?

In a flash, he’s suddenly turned around, his clothed-covered chest pressing against the wall as he feels your hands make quick work on his belt, on his pants, pulling them down to rest on his thighs. He hisses and shivers when the cold air hits every exposed part of him, yet makes his dick twitch in interest.

You also free your bottom half to finally let out the strap on you’ve luckily managed to hide until now, searching your pockets for the small tube of lube you brought with you, just in case.

But when you spread his butt cheeks, you gasp in surprise with the butt plug he’s wearing, going to grab the toy as you slowly pull it out in disbelief.

Did he know?

“I-I want you to know you’re not the, um, only one to be prepared for what they want.” Monoma speaks, but in such a soft tone that it has you wondering if he’s the same person who had pestered you since the beginning of the patrol, the same boyfriend you love who has a talent for being loved and hated simultaneously by various people.

But at least he didn’t know. He simply decided to take this extra mile.

Cute. No wonder he’s such a good boy for mommy… sometimes.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t prepare you, right?”

You don’t wait for his response, not when you dispose of the toy away from you both, and you make quick work to lube up your silicone cock.

Monoma doesn’t get to ask you about the wet sounds behind him, or ask where you threw his butt plug before you’re entering him. You felt how his body jolted, his back arching enough to push his ass back more towards you.

You land a smack against the smooth skin, listening how the impact echoes in the empty alleyway and the way he whimpers in pain.

“You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you Monoma?”

“Yes!”

No hesitation.

Monoma usually sounds hesitant whenever you two do something new, as if he evaluates the pros and cons from anything and everything, figuring out if he’ll come out benefitted or you.

But he sounds desperate, shameless. He sounds like he’s ready to cry.

New, but not too surprising. When he wants to, he’ll always be a good boy for his mommy.

“Want to tell mommy again why you were being a little bitch tonight?”

Never mind, his hesitation came back, his mouth pressed shut as you peek at him, trying to catch a glimpse at his periwinkle eyes, wondering what’s taking him so long to answer. He answered you so easily, so quickly a few minutes ago.

You hear a soft mumble, see his lips move but no sound gets to your ears. So you spank him once more, hearing his cute squeak and the way he fucks back.

“Louder.”

“I wanted mommy to fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t walk! Fuck me until I’m just your stupid little hole! Please? I’ll-I’ll be good now, I promise!”

If anyone were to ask you just how stupid Monoma gets when he’s completely horny and turned on, this is a prime example. His usual eloquent vocabulary? Gone. It doesn’t exist once mommy’s pleasing him.

But he’s also promising about being good? Let’s see how good he’ll be then.

No more words are exchanged, just the soft desperate pants of the pretty blond and some small airy whines that leave his mouth in anticipation for what you’ll do next.

You don’t even start slow, you go absolutely feral.

He barely gets to inhale one last deep breath until you’re fucking that out of his lungs, his head turning to look back at you as best he could as his body begins hitting the wall in front of him, his clothes rubbing against the roughness of the bricked exterior of the unknown building. He lifts head enough to not get itself hit against the wall and his hands are clawing at the bricks desperately, trying to find leverage to hold on tightly, his brain struggling to catch up with how vicious yet delicious you’re fucking him.

When he does remember he’s a human who can speak words, he cries out “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in such high pitches, it sounds like he’s singing, probably trying to continue seducing you into such a horny haze. His pent-up sexual frustration must have been infectious, with how you find yourself being merciless with him and his ass, your hips slamming into the back of his in such a brutal pace you wonder if the skin will bruise, if he’ll be able to sit or walk properly.

Probably not, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

Your baby boy wanted you to fuck the living shit out of him, so that’s what you’ll do, it’s what you’re best at doing.

Fuck the annoyance out of him so that when you guys get home, he passes out.

You momentarily forget you guys are very much still in public and even if it’s night, civilians are very much still awake and walking, either going back home or going to work, maybe hang out with their friends or find themselves a sub to fuck.

Monoma doesn’t even warn you that he’s cumming, not even his loud, prolonged whine of your name gets your attention. But with how he’s spasming around your toy, how his hips are twitching quickly in between your hands, his eyes that never left from looking at you crossing…

Yeah, since you missed that orgasm and you’re not in the mood to exactly punish him, why not fuck him some more until he can’t remember his name and only yours?

You briefly pause, the tip of the toy the only thing still inside of him as one of your hands rubs circles on his lower back and the other remains on his hip.

Through the panting, Monoma lets out a whine, one that sounds almost disappointed. Probably because he came far quicker than what either of you two expected, or because it feels like you’re pulling out already and calling it a night.

No words are exchanged as you watch him catch his breath for a bit more, memorizing how rosy his cheeks and nose look, how the blush looks like it’s on his neck while his white pupils are fully dilated, oozing his adoration for you.

When you hear him suck in a breath, whether he’s preparing a sentence or to finish pulling himself off the toy, you slam back into him, grinning like a maniac upon feeling how his whole body jumped, going back into action and having blood pump everywhere in him, mostly towards his reawakening dick.

And you slam, slam, slam, slamming into him at such a steady pace, making sure to roll your hips the way you know will make him start squealing in such a girly tone, or like a dirty pig he sometimes becomes.

And once you feel him begin to push back on you and one of his hands leave the wall, you lean forward, pushing his body more up on the wall. He’s bent too much, it’s obvious you’re fucking him doggy style. What if people decide to go through this alley?

He obeys but whines in complaint, not wanting you to stop your ministrations as he pulls himself together, standing up as much as he could as to leave his lower back still bent for you.

“Keep your hands on the wall or else I’ll leave you here like this.”

He loves it when you speak to him in such a low voice, in such a way that you know makes him want to suck your cock for days until his jaw hurts. He puts his hands back on the wall, both placed where his face is at, acting as support as he rests his forehead there. His neck hurts a bit from how long he’s been straining to look at you.

You go back to fucking him, going back to what you were doing, moaning his name repeatedly to keep riling him up, arouse him and make him start begging for you to go faster, harder, deeper, make him dirty.

And he does with loud wails, ones that have you freezing and stopping all together, slapping a hand on his mouth and whispering how he should quiet down, unless he wants to be whored to other people.

“Be mommy’s good boy and keep quiet. Unless you want someone else’s cock.”

“No! No muh-mommy! Only y-yours~ Please!” He moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he impatiently grinds against you, feeling how sticky his thighs are getting with sweat and some of his cum and precum, somehow.

“Mommy, fuck me more, please!” He whimpers so cutely, so pathetically, so melodically you’re sure he somehow copied someone’s siren quirk, because your head feels dizzy, your heart is beating erratically and your hips sync with the pulse, forgetting about being consistent with speed, with roughness, with how deep you reach inside of him.

Fucking him silly until he’s trying his best to muffle his screams and cries into the back of his hands pressed on the wall, his fingers trying so hard to find solace on them, to grasp the reality of him being defiled in an empty, dirty alleyway, pressed so ruthlessly against a wall he doesn’t know how exactly dirty it could be.

Monoma’s hiccuping your name until you spank him, growling softly how that’s not who you are, making him wail out “Mommy! Cumming!” in such an erotic way, you wonder if you’re fucking your boyfriend or a girl with how he’s managed to reach such an incredible pitch.

You keep going, and even when he’s done cumming, you don’t stop impaling him, and a hand goes to wrap itself around his dick, trying your best to match this chaotic fucking, hearing how he’s struggling to breath, to comprehend this painful yet electrifying pleasure.

His toes are curling in his shoes, his knees don’t stop buckling, his hips never stop trying to meet with yours, the burn of overstimulation flowing through his veins yet motivating his dick to keep going, to keep obeying, to not disappoint mommy.

Monoma’s speaking gibberish, babbling whatever nonsense and begging he could think of or come to make up, the tips of his fingers turning white with how hard they’re pressing against the bricks as he tries to not fall. He’s not sure how or why he’d fall, but with how you’re touching him, squeezing him, stroking him, playing with him, he’s ready to give into the inquiry of whether being a househusband would have you fucking him like this everyday.

It’s a weird thought, one he’s never had before, one that’s still early to even care about-

Oh my god you’re abusing his prostate!

He’s seeing stars, planets, flashing strobe lights and envisioning his uproaring third orgasm, mouth hung open stupidly as whiny sobs and strangled cries escape him, trying his best to keep quiet like you said but he can’t!

“Feels s’ good!” He slurs, once again turning his head to look at you, eyes completely wet as tears fall in graceful droplets, hair messed up and drool staining a bit of his chin.

And just as you were going to respond, you heard footsteps.

You both freeze: you’re halfway out of him while Monoma’s struggling to not let his coughing fit be heard, having swallowed his saliva far too quickly with the scare.

The sounds stop, but now you both can hear a female voice.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Monoma whimpers, embarrassed.

So this is how he’ll get caught and shamed.

This is the end of his career.

But you’re not having it, not with how his dick has stopped twitching and is starting to soften.

You’re not done yet, and neither is he.

“Answer, Monoma.” You harshly whisper, wiping your thumb over his hypersensitive tip, making him hiccup loudly before composing himself as best he could.

“Y-yes? It-It is I, Phantom Thief- ooh~”

Another voice pitches in.

“Phantom Thief? The Phantom Thief?!”

“Y-Yes!” Monoma squeaks out, trying to cover up his gasp as you begin to slowly fuck him, making sure to keep hitting him straight to the prostate, amused how he’s gripping his jaw, muffling his hiccups while frantically shaking his head, begging you with his eyes to no, no, please!

The two bystanders gasp, seemingly walking more towards where you and Monoma are, making you press him more into the wall, hoping the angle you’re both in and the small hiding spot is enough to keep you hidden.

“We’re huge fans of yours! But, um, are you alright? We heard someone crying.”

“Fuck!” Monoma whimpers, struggling to keep his breathing in check as you continue to move, even rolling your palm all over his tip, your other hand going to pull at one of his nipples.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I’m fin- ugh~”

“You… sure?”

“YES!”

Monoma yells, back arching as his head touches your shoulder, eyes rolling up this head as he’s torn between pushing back or bucking forwards, feeling his body submerged in such an intense heat, in such shame, in such pathetic desperation to cum, he’s begging you in quick hushed moans to please, pretty please, make him cum, he wants to cum, needs to cum again.

“And your fans?” You whisper teasingly, feeling how he shivers with how close your breath is near his ear.

“Fu-uck my fans-”

“Now now, that’s something you never said before. Did I fuck Monoma Neito out of you?”

And you go back with the brutal pace, not caring if the other two bystanders can hear what’s going on, not caring if they come out traumatized or probably aroused with how obvious it is that their dear Phantom Thief is getting fucked in a shady place, in a nasty place, yet he’s silently wailing and convulsing with everything you’re giving him.

Your hand soon enough gets sticky with what little cum his poor, weak body produced, his hole clenching tightly around your strap-on while his hands fly back to grasp any part of you that he could reach, which ended up being your head.

The bystanders speak again while Monoma’s busy wheezing his gratitude.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could call the police-”

“I’m alright! ‘m fine~” He managed to sing-song, but if you heard a bit of his whimper seep from the last word, you don’t say anything, simply slow down your stroking before pausing.

You hear their footsteps slowly go back towards where they probably came from, making Monoma let out shaky exhales of relief and satisfaction, small giggles slipping from time to time as you kiss his neck, his cheek, his jawline.

And once you are certain you’re both alone again, you slowly pull out of him, helping him to turn around so that his back presses against the wall.

Until he grimaces.

“My essence is, from my deduction, splattered on this disgusting wall.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you point down to where his pants are, laughing harder when you see how his grimace turns into a face of disgust, horror, shame, surprise, arousal- wait what?

You don’t question the last one, simply letting out the last of your giggles while you search for the disinfectant wipes you tend to carry with you in your utility belt. And once they’ve been found, you make him lick your cum-covered hand first before properly passing a wipe. You hand Monoma one so that he cleans his face if needed, disinfect his hands, his thighs, anywhere he thought he needed to clean.

No, that's a lie. You took care of his thighs and pelvis, trying your best to clean the spots where his cum reached his pants before peppering a few gentle kisses around his exposed skin.

Pulling his briefs and pants up, buttoning, zipping, fasting his belts. You let out a happy sigh, fixing his hair and tie.

You then fix yourself.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy, Monoma?”

He somehow managed to chirp. “I am, mommy.”

“Then, you’ll stop being a bitch tonight, right? Mommy made sure to fuck it out of you.”

“Oh, um,” aw, he’s blushing. “I suppose…”

When you both walk away from the much-more defiled wall, you hold back an amused snort with how Monoma seems too unstable with his feet, how his legs seem to shake with every step he tries to take and how frustrated he looks with how uncooperative his body is.

You decide that chilling and cuddling in that corner wouldn’t be so bad, and considering how your shift ended minutes ago, you doubt either you or Monoma will get into trouble.

[alltooreid]

I Think He Knows

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

A/N: Hope yall enjoy this cute fluffy fic! I’ve been having a rough couple of days so writing a fun fluff like this was really comforting :) yes it is inspired by the t swift song, but you don’t need to know the song to read and enjoy! also my requests are open so let me know what you want to see! (also sorry if this is kind of short, but i’ve been super busy and wanted to put something out :)))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute pining fluff fic

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, otherwise none.

“He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands No one understands”

“He has to know Penelope, I’m not exactly subtle.”

You and Penelope spent the majority of your lunch breaks in her office, discussing anything and everything. Recently however, the point of contention had been a certain young genius. One who you had a huge crush on.

“Spencer Reid may be a genius, and one of the best profilers I have ever seen but he most certainly does not know,” she said, as she drizzled more dressing on her salad.

“He has to, it feels like everyone knows. . . Do you think everyone knows?”

She shrugged, “They might, I know my Chocolate Thunder hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

“You haven’t told him? It’s already been a week since I’ve told you! How did you keep it a secret for so long?”

“You asked me very nicely not to tell anyone! Plus this one seems really important to you. I don’t want to go around telling people and for Reid to hear it in office gossip.”

You smiled, “Well you Penelope Garcia are the best, best friend ever.”

“You know it, now I know you desperately want to repay me for my services, and you can by giving me those exact ranch packets you have in your bag,” she said.

“They’re all yours, now let’s discuss something other than my pathetic schoolgirl crush. Like how stupid Kevin’s sweater was today.”

“Kevin? The other internal affairs technical analyst? Yeah what the heck was he wearing?”

“You know, I’m tired of having to carry the weight of the brains, looks and fashion sense out of the two of us,” you said. “Though, that is a good way to gather attention . . . I wonder if Spencer would actually hold a conversation with me if I wore something as ugly as that.”

She laughed, “You know I think that might send you backwards.”

You stabbed your lettuce, “At this point I’ll try anything.”

Before Penelope could respond, someone interrupted your lunch, your only other friend on the BAU team, Emily Prentiss.

“Oh hi Y/N! How are you!”

“I’m good Emily, what kind of gross things are you here to deliver today?” you and Emily joined the FBI at around the same time, and found comfort in the fact that you were both total try-hards. Emily was going to eat lunch with you and your fast friend Penelope, at least on days when she was in the office for lunch, but you and her both agreed that she should eat lunch with the team so that they can get used to having her around.

“Just some paperwork, no cases yet, knock on wood. Also I just wanted to say hello! What are you guys eating?” she asked, pulling up a chair.

“Some salads from that takeout veggie place PG is always talking about. I told you I was going vegetarian right?” “You did not! That’s great Y/N! We need to talk more, like we used to when we first started here,” she sighed, then perked up, “We should have girls night! Remember how fun it was that night at the bar? With Brad the real FBI agent?”

“Yes! We should! You know, Gideon’s replacement comes tomorrow, we should celebrate!” Garcia said.

“You know, I don’t know if the best way to celebrate a new agent is by drinking without them, but I’m down. We’ll toast our girls night to agent Rossi. Someone ask JJ if she’s busy.”

JJ was not busy, but when you and Emily asked, Morgan overheard.

“So am I not invited to the party?”

“Well it was supposed to be girls night . . . but I think PG would throw a fit if I turned down her 2nd favorite person in this building, so I guess you can come,” you teased. “You should come too Spencer!”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my thing . . “

“Oh come on! I know I would love to see you there,” you then realized that you were embarrassing yourself being so forward. “And I’m sure everyone else would too!”

“Alright, I’ll come, but I’m not drinking.” he said firmly. 

Before you could respond, Penelope magically appeared. “Good, you can be completely sober when Y/N gets wasted and embarrasses herself,” she said.

“PENELOPE! I’m not the light weight here! you’ll see Spencer, she’s actually awful. Two shots in and she’ll be on the floor,” this was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer grimaced. “But it’ll be so much fun! You have to be there! You already said yes!”

“I just don’t know if seeing all of my coworkers get drunk while I watch is my idea of a fun evening. . .”

“Trust me! I’ll even stay sober with you, so we can judge them together. It’ll be a blast.”

“Ok, I’ll be there . . . but for now I need more coffee,” he pulled his chair out and walked towards the office kitchen. You silently cheered, forgetting how people were still standing around you.

“Well,” you awkwardly laughed, “um, I guess I better be getting back to my neck of the woods. I’m not a hot shot profiler like the rest of you guys . . . so see you all later!” You tried to escape before anyone interrogated you about your conversation with Spencer. However, a certain profiler followed quickly behind you. 

“So. . . you and pretty boy huh?”

“Shut it Morgan.”

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You stayed true to your word that night, Spencer stuck to water and you enjoyed a diet soda. The bartender, who you had grown fairly used to seeing on your many nights out, was shocked to hear you didn’t want any alcohol in it. 

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t drink, you already embarrassed yourself enough in front of Spencer fully sober.

“So Spencer, you know that new bookstore you said you were going to go to after work a couple weeks ago?”

“New bookstore . . .? Oh yeah! What about it?”

“Well after I heard you talking about it I decided to check it out . . . It’s really nice there! I go like every other night now! We should totally go together sometime.” Luckily, you were sober enough to keep a secret: the fact you were only going so much in the hopes of running into him.

“Oh really? If I’m being honest I wasn’t super impressed with their selection, it was mostly contemporary fiction. And all in English . . . Not really my thing,” when he saw the way your face dropped he quickly changed his tone, “but it’s great if that’s your thing!”

This. Is. Humiliating. The amount of times you had gone and bought books from the bookstore, you were there almost every night hoping to run into him after work and start a conversation. You felt stupid, of course he wouldn’t want to go on a book store date with you. If Spencer Reid didn’t like you so much that he wouldn’t even go to a bookstore with you, there’s no chance at a relationship.

“Oh haha, yeah you’re right it’s totally lame. . .”

“Didn’t you just say you went there all the time?”

“No! When did I say that? You must be drinking Dr. Reid,” you said, quickly hopping off your bar stool, and running towards Morgan and Garcia, not turning around to see how confused Spencer was, but only being able to imagine him as relieved. Relieved he didn’t have to make conversation with you anymore.

“I’m blowing this PG, he totally hates me.”

Morgan laughed, “Y/N, you’re acting silly, this isn’t high school, we aren’t seventeen, stop dancing around it and just go ask him out.”

“Morgan, he doesn’t want to go to a bookstore with me, no way he’s agreeing to a date.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, maybe he’s just not in the mood to go?”

“You go ask him then, 20 bucks he says yes.”

“You’re on Y/N/N.”

7 minutes later Morgan returned and without a word pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and deposited it into your hand. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Penelope then piped up, “I’m telling you Y/N, he just doesn’t know. That boy is clueless.”

You scoffed, “I think he knows Penelope. I’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Have you told him?”

You were thrown off, “Um, no but-”

“Well then you haven’t made it clear enough, have you sugar?”

You almost said something, but you couldn’t really think of a good rebuttal for the argument. So instead, you downed Penelope’s half dranken frozen margarita, and headed back over to Spencer.

“Hey!” he said as you made your way back over, “I was wondering where you went, after you left Derek came over and asked to go to that bookstore with me, isn’t that extraordinary. . .”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you blurted out.

“What?”

You sighed, “I’ve had a crush on you since like, forever, and I keep planning all these ways to ask you subtly but it’s just not working so I’m asking now. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“You like me? I didn’t know that . . .”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, I thought you were just being nice. You’re nice to everyone and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You smirked, “Get your hopes up? Does that mean you’re obsessed with me too Dr. Reid?”

He laughed in response, “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

You dug through your purse and pulled out your keys, “Ok, then let’s get out of here.”

He paled, “And do what?”

“We’re going on our first date.”

He smiled, and you both got up off your bar stools and headed out the door, ignoring Morgan’s snide remarks as you passed. 

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You couldn’t help but smile as you drove. Every couple of seconds you couldn’t help but look over at Spencer, getting lost in his brownish hazel eyes, which looked indigo in the night. He would smile, the kind of smile people write silly little romance songs about and spend verses to describe, and tell you to pay attention to the road before you run off of it. You would laugh, tell him to calm down. Although originally you had an idea of where you were going, now you just wanted to drive in circles, to bask in this memory. 

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Think about it Doctor Reid . . .” you replied, teasing him in the way you’ve imagined since you met him. 

You pulled up to that little bookstore on 16th avenue, the one you couldn’t stop going to out of the sheer chance Spencer might be there, the one that was obviously closed this late at night, but was too perfect not to spend your first date at. 

“Although this is beautifully symbolic, it’s almost 2 in the morning, this place closes at 8. We’re 5 hours, 49 minutes and 17 seconds late.”

You smiled and pulled out your ring of keys, “You know, when I spent hours a night hanging around here after work, hoping that you would happen to come shop for books and see me here too, the woman who owns this store got pretty curious. So I told her why I was here, and after she got done laughing at me she offered me a key, so that if I ever had the guts to ask you out, I could take you here no matter what.” You turned the key and swung the door open, gesturing him inside and locking the door behind you, “but we have to keep the lights off, so no one comes by and tries to get in.”

You and Spencer sit in the non-fiction section, and enjoy the silence for a few seconds before you have an idea, “Read me something Reid.”

He reached up, pulling a book off of the shelf without looking, “Are you sure, A Brief History of 1491: Life in America Before Columbus, is first date material?”

“Although that book is anything but brief, anything you read to me will sound stunning coming from your pretty mouth.”

So he begins to read, attempting to slow down to a reasonable pace but still going abnormally fast. You didn’t care though, more than you listened to the history of the late fifteenth century you watched Spencer’s hands. They’re really nice hands.

His right followed the words as he read aloud and his left helped hold the book. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand unconsciously as he spoke, getting into the words of the book. 

After about 25 pages he glanced over at you, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After a second he went back to the page, and continued reading. You didn’t think anything of it until a couple minutes later, when his hand made its way to your left thigh.

He held it and you leaned into him, and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep hours later, with his head resting on top of yours. 

At 8:30 Mrs. Betts, the owner of the bookstore, found you and Spencer, arms around each other, the book thrown aside. She smiled, glad to know you had taken her up on her offer. She went to go wake you up but glanced at her watch. She didn’t have to officially open until 10. 

She could definitely spare a couple of minutes. 

“I want you, bless my soul I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

ATR’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​

[bibliocratic]

clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags

They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.

Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.

The end. In conclusion. Fin.

-

Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.

The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.

Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.

Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.

-

Martin is happy.

-

It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.

It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.

It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.

The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.

Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.

Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.

He does not wake Jon.

-

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”

-

He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?

--

Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.

Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.

He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.

He just has to try harder.

-

Night-time.

An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.

The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.

A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.

Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.

-

Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.

-

Jon is happy.

-

Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:

“I can’t fit into my jeans.”

Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.

“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”

“Or it’s middle age.”

“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”

“Or other people’s terror.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”

Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.

He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.

He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

His hands shake.

He doesn’t go back to bed.

-

He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.

-

Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.

Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.

Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.  

Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.

Check. Check. Check.

-

Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –

-

Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.

The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.

The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.

The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.

This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.

And Jon is happy.

All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.

I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.

The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.

-

They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.

Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.

Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.

-

He wants to have a good night’s sleep.

-

“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”

“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”

“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”

-

He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.

He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.

-

The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.

Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.

-

“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”

“…  you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.

-

“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”

Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.

He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.

His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.

He is so so tired.

Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.

He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.

Punch. Gasp.

His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…

“Martin?”

I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…

His shoulders start to shake.

“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.

“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”

“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”

“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”

Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.

“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”

“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”

“Oh, Martin – ”

His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.

“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.

“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.

“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”

Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.

Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.

[bjornthorsson20]

The Broken Side of a Flaming Soul

As he walked through the school corridors, Harry Potter decided he had enough. His best friend was being completely unreasonable about this, and he couldn't stand to see him lose a chance to finally admit to himself what the whole House could already see.

The Yule Ball was just around the corner, and everyone was already running around like headless chickens trying to find a date. After being shot down by Cho Chang, Harry had recovered fast and, after making sure Ron was ok with it, he was going with Ginny. On the other hand, Ron had resigned himself to not going, not even bothering to try and find another date after his embarrassing invitation to Fleur Delacour that'd been made in a sudden stupor caused by her Veela powers.

When asked, Ron would just shrug and answer, "there isn't anyone that catches my eye, mate", forcing a chuckle in the hopes he'd drop the subject. Harry did, but he could see straight through that lie. He knew the real reason Ron wouldn't ask anyone else; he already had someone in mind.

And that someone happened to be their best friend, Hermione Granger.

Everyone that knew these two, or had witnessed their interactions all these years could already tell they were made for each other. The only problem was that they couldn't see it, apparently.

Harry first noticed in 3rd year, after that Hogsmeade trip they spent without him. They came back giggling at each other, and blushing whenever they happened to catch the other glancing in their direction. Their hands almost touched, their fingers twitching a little. From that day on, they'd keep this behaviour when they were in the common room doing homework, even around Harry. Without noticing, Ron would sit a bit closer than usual to Hermione and their elbows would end up bumping at some point, which would make their cheeks turn pink. They would continue to stare holes through their parchment before Ron would distance himself a bit, repeating the cycle until it was time to call it a night. Hermione would then rush upstairs faster than a Snitch after muttering a good night to Ron (and only Ron).

Then the Crookshanks and Scabbers fight happened, and Harry was seriously worried they would just call it quits on their friendship entirely. Thankfully, that argument was solved rather amiably, and the two resumed their awkward relationship soon after.

So, when the Yule Ball was announced, Harry thought that it would be the chance for them to finally get their feelings out in the open after a glorious romantic night. But alas, Ron was being his pigheaded self, and simply refused to ask Hermione as his date on account of his dress robes being horrible. "Why even bother going?" he'd grumble.

Harry thought that was rubbish, honestly. Why would Hermione care what Ron wore for the Ball? He knew that Hermione wasn't superficial like that, so, surely Ron had to know. There had to be some other reason he wasn't telling him about, and Harry was going to get it out of him today. And make sure Hermione heard it as well.

Harry had to suppress a grin as he thought back to his brilliant plan to get the two together at last. One day he pulled Ginny aside in the common room and asked her for a favor. She listened intently and, as he went on, the grin on her face kept growing and growing. He was glad Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed him slip away, as they were too busy with their awkward "elbow bumping" homework routine to pay him any mind.

Finally, Harry's feet had dragged him to the library entrance as he shook himself from his thoughts and went in, already knowing the table he was looking for. He made a beeline for one near the back, separated by a bookshelf from the farthest one, where he knew a certain bushy-haired witch sat everytime.

Ron was already there waiting for him, with a book opened up as he leaned an elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. Harry was surprised to see Ron actually reading a book that didn't involve Quidditch, though he was definitely just pretending to read as he waited; Ron didn't read, that was Hermione's thing!

Harry quickly sat down as Ron finally looked up and fixed him with an unreadable expression. Harry grinned, hoping to lighten the conversation a bit before questioning his friend. Ron attempted to fake read again, but Harry wasn't going to let him avoid talking this time, so he pulled away the book.

"C'mon, mate, stop pretending to be interested in this. You're gonna talk to me." Harry took a look at the cover and snorted, "Immediate Transfiguration. Mate, you seriously expect me to believe you were willingly reading up on homework?" Ron snatched back the book and upon noticing his expression, Harry stopped laughing. Ron's face was set in a deep frown, gripping the book hard, and Harry noticed his lower lip tremble slightly before he bit it and stared a hole through the cover.

Suddenly, the air around them seemed very thick and tense, almost cold, as Harry glanced at his friend, stunned by the sudden shift in mood. That was, until Ron spoke in an unusually weak voice for him, which startled Harry.

"Yes, I was reading this book for real. Figured I could finally follow Hermione's advice and try to learn something to make myself worthwhile in class, saving McGonagall the stress and disappointment. But judging by your reaction, I guess I'm too much of a joke at this point to be smart in any way. I should've left it to Hermione. It's her thing." He spat the last two words venomously, further scaring Harry.

What happened? This didn't sound like Ron at all. Harry was seriously expecting Ron to look at him, laugh at his face and tell him he had gotten him good. But Ron kept looking at the book, and his hands had started shaking slightly.

Harry was about to break the uncomfortable silence when Ron spoke first.

"Harry, I know why you called me here, ok? So, let's get right to it so I can go back to our dorm and hide myself in there for the rest of today." His tone sounded detached, as if he had been rehearsing these lines in his head as he sat there waiting.

"Ron, I'm sor-"

"Forget it."

"No, lis-"

"Drop it." Even though Harry had said these same words to Ron when he tried apologizing to him after the First Task, the way Ron said them wasn't the firm, yet friendly, way in which Harry did. This time they were icy, as if Ron wasn't even going to accept his apology.

Deciding to just head on straight to the point, Harry asked, "Why won't you take Hermione to the Ball with you? Don't even try to say it's those dress robes, I know that's rubbish." He tried cracking a smile but his lips just kept a straight line on his face as he waited for Ron's answer. This whole thing just seemed silly now, and Harry desperately wished he could change Ron's mood somehow. This wasn't going as planned at all.

"You want the truth, then?" Ron's voice now sounded completely normal all of a sudden, as if he wasn't dreading the answer at all, something that immediately caused Harry's stomach to turn uneasily, nervous about what Ron would say.

Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, and waited with bated breath as Ron sighed and sunk lower in his chair. He was still half expecting Ron to tell him it was the ultimate prank on him; for Fred and George to come out from under the table and join Ron in laughing at his expense.

What he heard instead made his heart sink.

"Ok, I'll give you the truth. The truth is, I'm not going to bother with something I know won't work. I won't allow myself to go to that Ball in those dreadful robes that'll make me look like a clown in front of the whole school, just so I can fool myself into thinking Hermione and I will have a great night that'll end with us declaring our love for each other. Because that won't happen, outside of my wildest dreams. I know Hermione doesn't feel the same way and I can live with that, although I'm not fucking okay with it. But who am I to say if it's okay or not? I can't be the selfish git trying to dictate who she should or shouldn't like."

He paused to look towards the ceiling as if bracing himself for the next part, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"Hermione deserves to go to the Ball with someone that can give her a great night and a promise of something more, someone like, I don't know, Krum. Rich, famous, talented, and everything a girl wants for her future. I'll be bloody jealous, really, when I see her waltzing in with Krum or any bloke, for that matter, but that's just stupid. Being jealous of someone you aren't even dating is already low, and being jealous of someone who you don't even have a chance with is bloody pathetic. Really, who would take me? Poor, ugly, rude, vulgar, stupid, clumsy…"

Ron looked at Harry for the first time since he started speaking, and let out a mirthless chuckle at Harry's shocked expression. "I'm surprised Hermione and I are even friends; that she puts up with me when she can rattle off a list of all that's wrong with me, which just further proves I'm hopeless and I don't have a single worthwhile thing about me."

Harry was already feeling sick from everything he had heard. He tried to stop Ron from going on, but Ron just raised his hand and fixed him with a stern look, effectively silencing him, and resumed speaking.

"You are Harry Potter, enough said. I know you don't ask for the attention, but you're headed to greatness, mate. Your path has been set. Hermione is… do I even need to say it? She's brilliant, the smartest witch of her age and all that, and she's gonna rule the world one day. Even if I don't agree with how she goes about things sometimes, that whole S.P.E.W. thing shows she wants to bring a positive change to the world and she'll do that someday. Heck, even Ginny will do great one day, I just know it. Don't tell her I said that, though."

"Then there's me, honestly, can you point out a single thing you can say I'm good at? And, I don't want to hear you say things like "you're brave, you're funny, you're kind". No, I want actual talent for something." Ron stopped talking then to look quizzically at Harry, but by the time he realized he was supposed to answer, it was too late and Ron blurted out, "See? Nothing. None of the subjects here, nothing in these books, I'm not good at a single damn thing that at least 10 other wizards can't do better. I guess there's chess, but no one has ever taken that as something serious from me. It's just a game, anyway, not a career potential."

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, what people have been wondering all this time in the corridors is true. Why am I your friend, Harry? Why do you let me hang around you? Is it because I'm a joke, and it's funny to see me fail? Is it because you pity me, knowing no one else would have me? You can just, let me go, mate, don't let me keep dragging you down and distracting you from schoolwork. Merlin knows I can't even write in a legible enough way, so don't let yourself get dumbed down by me. One day, you're both going to realize I'm just deadweight anyway, so, just let me go. It'll make it easier for me to be alone and not have to constantly live in your shadows."

The silence that accompanied this speech would have been deafening, had Harry's ears not already been thundering with a million things in his mind that were just waiting to burst from his mouth in response to his friend. But Harry couldn't speak, he was quite literally stunned into silence by the slap that was felt by all of his friend's words.

Ron finally heaved a giant sigh before standing up, looking down to avoid Harry's gaze as he quickly muttered, "Put the book back on the shelf for me before you go, please", then promptly rushed out of the library.

Harry didn't move though, he literally couldn't. His whole body felt numb, aside from his heart, which was now clenching painfully in his chest.

Harry wondered what had happened to Ron. But there was nothing new. Ron had simply shown his vulnerable side. A side of him Harry had failed to notice before.

He heard a sob from behind the bookshelf, and a wave of guilt immediately came crashing down.

"What have you done?"

[everygame]

Gotta Protectors (Nintendo 3DS)

Developed/Published by: Ancient Released: 07/2016 Completed: 12/04/2022 Completion: Finished every level. Ok, I didn’t beat the final “destroyers” level (86). But it was ridiculous! Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Yes, that’s Gotta Protectors (Nintendo 3DS) not Gotta Protectors (Nintendo Switch). Yes, I found myself somewhat frantically trying to finish this before the release of its sequel, and barely managed, with just enough time that I could justify pre-ordering said sequel. And yes, by the time you read this I hope said sequel has 1) turned out to be just as good as this and 2) become a world-wide phenomenon like Wordle. Do people still play Wordle? Do I still play Wordle? Tell me, future me.

So. This is the first sequel to Ancient’s sorta-throwaway yet brilliant not-quite-tower defense game Protect Me Knight for Xbox Live Indie Games (long since inaccessible, unless you already bought it) where you pick your class, upgrade your hero’s skills and weapons, and work your way through 100 levels where the goal is (basically) to protect the princess until the level is over. You can do this by placing fortifications and turrets, and/or directly engaging with the enemies and trying to seek out and destroy any spawners, with each class having their own preferred playstyle.

It’s perfectly playable solo, but Gotta Protectors is a great game that desperately needs you to be playing it with friends to really be as great as it is (if that makes any sense). Unfortunately, it’s local play only, so I played through about three quarters of this in spates related to “when I had my 3DS on me, and friends also had their 3DS on them” which was unsurprisingly rare, and then I just set it to easy mode and tried to roll through the last 30-odd missions. The former, although it was a game every two years or something, was vastly preferable. You see, Gotta Protectors is almost like a Earth Defense Force demake, in that it’s absolute chaos at its best with insane swarms of enemies and destruction to be had, and when you’ve got a full squad of players trying to manage the insanity it’s about as good as games get.

If there’s a problem with Gotta Protectors though it actually relates to the way that context relates to the meta game. I’m not ever sure if there’s a specific genre title, but Gotta Protectors fits into the “Japanese multiplayer-focused item-grind action game” Earth Defense Force is roughly part of, but it’s most obviously personified by the Monster Hunter franchise.

Here, you’ve got tens of different items to collect, all of which are used in the shops and upgrade dojo, and you’ve got an extremely obscure system to use items to make rings that provide a further bonus. The issue is that (unfortunately) Gotta Protectors on 3DS was not a worldwide phenomenon the way that the Switch sequel has turned out to be (future ed. please check) so there really is next to no good guidance on… really anything.

For example, I liked playing the Archer best, but there came a point where it felt like my character did… basically no damage and died immediately, no matter what build I tried to shape towards. When I switched to Amazon? I didn’t really have to pay attention to that any more.

To be honest, as much as I love this game, there are certain things I just don’t understand even now (the difference between in-mission levelling up and levelling up at the dojo or weapon level bonuses, for example.) There’s a non-zero chance that you’ll be so confused by exactly what you’re supposed to be doing that you’ll get frustrated and quit if you’re trying to solo this–especially if you’ve put all your effort into one character and have to switch.

That all said though… it’s not really the developer’s fault that there aren’t amazing faqs out there, although a bit more explanation could have helped in game (yes, the silly fake manual is cute, but could it have some useful information?) 

Either way, I have incredibly fond memories of playing this with others, and with the 3DS being murdered any day now I suggest that if you loved the Switch version and have any 3DS owning friends you make a pact to play through this together in person, COVID allowing. I’d ask future me if COVID was still a problem, but it’s obviously going to be so I don’t have to…

Will I ever play it again? If there’s ever a situation where my pals can help me finish off that final destroyers level (levels where insane waves of enemies are funneled to the princess/castle and you just have to survive) I’ll boot this up. But it requires me bringing my 3DS to someone’s house. Could happen I guess!

Final Thought: Something interesting that playing through this at length solo brought up was actually how much the level design made me think of Cannon Fodder of all things. The way some levels would throw you into insanity straight away, others would require your hero quest a bit to solve how to finish the level, and so on. They’re both pretty good studies on how to keep remixing your game’s core play across a lot of content to provide surprises and unique moments, even if they both have pretty wobbly difficulty curve. I should play Cannon Fodder again… I always give up when I lose too many men, the themes of the game always make me feel too ashamed to go on!

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[itsthewritergal]

was he telling the truth? - Part Six

I am so pleased everyone is liking this series... the next part is the last part  xx 

part one 

part two 

part three 

part four 

part five 

Y/N found herself hating the holiday she once loved, since losing her parents in the battle of Hogwarts she had spent the holidays with the Weasley’s the moment that Fred and George left the flat to go back home Y/N was usually with them. She had turned down Molly’s invite this year, knowing that Fred wouldn’t want to spend it with her. George and Caitlin had invited her to theirs for Christmas eve which Y/N turned down as well. Being in the shop with Fred was hard enough let alone having to spend some time in his flat which George and Caitlin acting like everything was ok. Fred had been avoiding Y/N at work, unsure how to speak to her without either upsetting himself or herself. Christmas eve was always the busiest day in the shop and sadly George had already planned the day off with Caitlin which meant Fred and Y/N had been forced to work together for the entire day. Fred had barely said a word to Y/N. Y/N had tried to make small talk yet Fred respond at all.

“That was a good day” Y/N said closing the door to the shop and turning the sign to close

“Go home, I’ll close up alone” Fred said,

“Don’t be silly Fred, you go home. I know you’ve got to go to your mums house. You might as well go and get there earlier” Y/N said with a slight disappointment evident in her voice

“Fine” Fred agreed, with a pop he had disappeared from the place next to Y/N.

Y/N stood for a moment, wrapping the jumper further around her body in a desperate attempt to warm herself up, she had wished Fred was here to hold her. She’d messed that all up though.

— — — — — — —

Christmas was lonely, Y/N had little family after the Battle of Hogwarts yet she had gotten used to Christmas with the Weasley’s. Y/N found herself desperate for Percy’s constant droning on about the ministry, longing for the little comments which Ginny whispered to her, asking for the moments she spent with Fred. Yet she sat alone in her apartment, the presents she had bought Fred and George sat lonely on her kitchen table. With a huff she picked them up and aparated to the Burrow.

She stood for a moment outside the door, before placing the presents down on the floor, and knocking before quickly turning away. She got ready to apparate back to her apartment,

“Y/N!” Ginny grinned, as she opened the door, she saw the presents on the floor “Aren’t you joining today?”

“Not today Ginny, I’ve got some friends over later” She said

“You can’t not come in! Mum would kill me if she knew that you didn’t say hello” Ginny hummed pushing Y/N towards the door and into the kitchen,

“Please Ginny I’ve got to go home” Y/N said trying to turn away from the family she had once loved

“Y/N” Molly smiled pulling her into a hug

“I found this one standing on the door step delivering these presents” Ginny smiled as she took her place next to Harry, Y/N felt Fred staring at her

“You’ve got to stay for lunch” Molly said turning herself back towards the oven

“I can’t I’ve got an aunt coming later” Y/N said

“You said it was friends” Ginny said catching on to her lie

“You never were that good at lying” George winked, “come sit” he patted the space in between him and Fred, which Y/N desperately wanted to take “I don’t think that is a good idea” Y/N said feeling Fred’s angry glare on her

“Why? You know you’ve always got a place here" Molly said

Y/N sat herself down, despite the love that the Weasley’s showed Y/N, she felt alone. She sat next to Fred, like she usually did. Yet he would normally have his hands on her thigh or wrapped around her waist.

“How are you Y/N?” Molly asked “How are you really? I know the procedure must have been difficult”

“I’m fine” Y/N said trying her hardest to hold herself together

“You could have asked me to come with you” Ginny said with a sympathetic smile

“Or me” Molly chimed in “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper chat”

Fred scoffed, Y/N caught it. Ginny shot him an angry look

“Thank you, but I needed to go alone, it was something I had to do” She said, it was the mantra she repeated in her head every single night to help her sleep

“It still can’t have been easy” Hermione said

“I don’t know why you’re all supporting her” Fred growled

“Fred!” Molly snapped,

“No mum, I don’t understand why you are all supporting what she did”

“Why? She had to make a difficult decision,” Ginny defended her “Would you still support her if you knew who the father was?” Fred snapped

“That wouldn’t change a thing” Ginny shouted back at Fred,

“Really? It wouldn’t change anything to know that she killed my child” Fred shouted standing up,

“What?” Molly whispered

“I need to go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come” Y/N stood and quickly made her way out of the house,

“Y/N wait!” Ginny followed her, grabbing her arm before she could go anywhere  “Was he telling the truth?” She asked

“Yes he was” Y/N hummed “I didn’t know what else to do” she said honestly pulling the jumper around her tighter.

— — — — —

“Fred we need to talk” George said walking into their bedroom

“Not in the mood George” Fred snapped lying down on his bed

“Would you snap out of it!” George shouted “You think all of this is about you and it isn’t, Y/N went through this alone and she needs your support. Did you really not see how thin she was at the table, how little she’s been speaking recently, she’s breaking and you are too wrapped up in yourself to notice!”

“George” Fred said “No! You go out there and talk to her like the friend she needs right now” George instructed, Fred stood and nodded

“How do I apologise?” Fred turned to look at his brother with desperate eyes

“I don’t know, I can’t help you with that part” George said giving him a sad smile

Fred nodded and made his way out of the room. Ginny sat with Harry at the table, the Christmas dinner being quickly forgotten.

“Fred” Molly started

“Mum please I know I messed up” He said sadly

“Fred listen to me” She said firmly “You have to be careful with what you say to Y/N, she’s hurting. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling right now. But please don’t do anything which could hurt her more”

“I’m going to fix this mum, I promise” Fred said

“Good luck with that” Ginny scowled at her brother, Fred turned his attention to his younger sister who sat close to Harry, who kept his arms around her as she cried silently

“What are you talking about?” Fred said his worry growing

“She left Fred, I don’t know where she went” Ginny said “This is all your fault” She snapped

“That isn’t fair Ginny” Caitlin butted in “Fred was hurt, he lashed out, I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen you do the same” She said

“Y/N is like my sister, and if she doesn’t come back I know who I’m blaming” Ginny snapped standing up and leaving the room. They all heard the door slam from a few floors away

“I’m going to go calm her down” Harry said giving Fred a pat on the back “Do the right thing” He said before following Ginny.

taglist 

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Permanent taglist :) 

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@witch-and-a-half

[joyfulhopelox]

Coffee puns and wayside milkshakes

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (idol!jin, non-idol!reader, established relationship)

Warnings: some light swearing, really bad puns

Summary: Busy schedules have made it impossible to spend time with your boyfriend but he makes sure to assure you that he is still thinking of you. So even though he has promotions during summer he takes the time to plan an amazing road trip just for the two of you. Even if it is just to the drive thru in the next town over.

Genre: fluff gone into crack or crack gone into fluff

Word count: 3,020

Rating: g

A/N: This is part of the @bangtanwritingbingo event! Chosen square number 1 is 'road trip'. I made it pure fluff which i have to admit i thought i would be completely terrible at, but the more i write the better i get at it (hopefully). I had so much fun writing this! It was also once again meant to be a drabble, but....that is clearly something i have to work on. Enjoy some really bad puns from me!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

“Tell me again why are we up….” observing the still and dark atmosphere out the window you sighed, “at the ass crack of dawn?”

Normally, you would not question your boyfriend. Even when he would make stupid jokes or do stupid things, which acted contrary to his close-to-30 age. You trusted him completely, you may even say you trusted him with your life. And yet, this morning or night, you were seriously questioning his sanity. Have his schedules gotten to his head? Has the tiredness of constant practice and promotions made him lose it?

“Just you wait, love, i told you it’s a surprise” he shushed you, excitedly jumping out of the warm bed. Not wanting to get up just yet, it was 4am in the morning for God’s sake, you burrowed yourself deeper into the warm sheets whilst commandeering his pillow. “Love, come on get up. The surprise will not work if we are late” Seokjin whined.

“No, 5 more minutes” you grumbled into the pillow. It smelled of him and that comfort was slowly getting you back into the dream world. A dream world where a normal Jin would wake you up at a normal time, and you would get to spend a normal day together, gaming and cooking. But no, reality had to be shattered, instead this Seokjin was tugging at the duvet whilst patting your leg. “Okay, 5 more minutes whilst i go wash up but then you have to get up. We have to be in the car in 30 minutes” he warned, breaking you out of your dreamworld.

Basking in the comfort of the bed until you hear the bathroom door close, you decide that you were awake enough to face the chill of a summer morning. Throwing the blanket off of you, you gave the window a dirty look. As if it was the cause of your distress. It was summer, why was it so dark outside early in the morning? Because you woke up, correction because your lovely boyfriend woke you up at an ungodly hour. “I swear Kim Seokjin….” you mumbled to yourself. Making your way hurriedly to the kitchen, your form still wrapped like a burrito in the blanket you decided you needed caffeine, and fast.

“Love, now is not the time, we can’t be late” jumping at the whiny voice of your boyfriend you turned around, and when recalling this story to his friends, Jin would swear that he physically felt your murderous gaze stabbing him. “Kim Seokjin, if you do not allow me to have at least one cup of coffee before we set out onto this whatever it is” motioning wildly in the air “i swear i will make your life a living hell forever, even after i am dead i will haunt you until you are dead, and even in death i will haunt you” rambling on you failed to notice the amused expression on Jin’s face. God, you were adorable. However, as soon as you had finished your rant and you gazed back at him, for the sake of his life and his family jewels he straightened his pose and nodded at you in an attempt to be serious.

“Of course”

Satisfied you turned back to making your coffee, and some for the road. You knew that as active as Jin was at the moment, once on the road he would harass you for a sip. And if there was one thing you could not stand, it was sharing your coffee.

“Hey Y/N, what do you call a sad cup of coffee?” Oh no, here we go again. “Jiiiiiin” you whined, “it’s too early for this, what do you call it?” despite having complained about his bad dad jokes, you secretly enjoyed it when he made them. The jokes were not amazing most times, but seeing him so happy and hearing his laugh was what made them the best jokes you could have ever heard.

“A depresso” bursting out laughing fully at his own joke made you giggle at him. He was adorable, and he was all yours. Fondly gazing at him you shook your head whilst still giggling. His infectious humour was better at brightening your day than any coffee.

“Very funny baby, now let me finish making this coffee so we can leave. You’re the one in a hurry” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Ah, yes indeed” he rushed to exit the kitchen. Not before turning around to wink at you and blow you a kiss whilst delivering his last one line puncher. “After all, we don’t want to be latte.” You could still hear his laugh even as he reached the other end of the corridor.

“Silly man”

-

Finally with two coffees in tow, you got yourself strapped into the car and waited for Jin to finish shoving into the back of the car what he presented as “top secret and you are not allowed to peek”. So you did your best to not let curiosity get to you and instead closed your eyes in an attempt to get a few more minutes of sleep. As you were drifting off slowly but surely, all you could hear in the background were the constant complaints of your boyfriend arguing with whatever he was trying to fit into the back of the car. And by the way the car was shaking it felt like he was forcing an elephant in there. You smiled gently to yourself, this is what bliss felt like to you. Not those extra minutes of sleep, not the thought of the planned date- which excited you nonetheless, but the knowledge that today was a day where you could spend some time with Jin and listen to him whine, complain, rant, express his love for you, cuddle you and all that in person.

“You alright there love?” you finally decided to check on his well being after another 10 minutes of grumbling.

“Yes, yes. Just trying….to get this thing to…..fit” heaving he let out a triumphal yell. “Done! Now let’s gogogogogo on this exciting road trip!” enthusiastically he opened the car door and jumped in almost hitting you in the face with his arm and whacking his own knee on the wheel of the car. “Oh my gosh, are you ok, did i hit you?” you stifled a giggle, he did not hit you and yet even though he clearly was in pain he made sure to check on you first.

“Jin, i’m fine babe, but clearly you aren’t. Please be more careful” you chided gently reaching over to rub the sore spot on his shin. With a gentle smile he grabbed your hand in his warm one. Despite the chilly air of the morning, he was warm and inviting, his hand on yours instantly heating up your cold ones. “I’m sorry love, I promise i will be” he reached out to cup your cheek with his free hand rubbing your skin and with care as if you were made out of porcelain he brought his soft plump lips to yours in a brief kiss that left you breathless.

“Hey, Y/N?” his lips a breath away from you that made you swear you still felt them on yours, was that wishful thinking? Maybe. “I love you” your eyes skimmed over his features lost in a world of your own and with a suddenly mischievous grin you pulled back from him fastening your seatbelt.

“I love you too, you mocha me very happy”

With an incredulous scoff, Jin fastened his own seatbelt and put the car into drive. “Careful love, you will become worse than me” he warned amusedly, the pride in his voice unmasked. He did love it when you would one up him on his jokes. Sometimes you would make a competition out of it, an unannounced one so that neither of you could have pre prepared comebacks and see who won. Most times you lost miserably, and the times you won you were absolutely certain that Jin went easy on you. He was the fountain of knowledge when it came to puns.

“But Jin, i am worse than you” giggling like idiots, you turned your gaze to the window prepared for the trip ahead. You had no idea where you were going but as long as you were with Seokjin, you would be absolutely fine.

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

“I swear to god Kim Seokjin, you plan a trip in the middle of the night to somewhere, lord knows where, and you don’t even think to consider checking the gas tank????”

As the car slowly sputtered and came to a stop at the end of the road you turned to look at your desperate boyfriend. “Oh nononnononono, this can’t be happening. I was meant to stop at a station as soon as we exited the city” trying to get the car to start again you bit your lip. Maybe it was the fact that you had placed your trust fully in him, or the fact that he was so sure of this trip, or the fact that he had bragged about this trip for a while now but this end you had not foreseen, and so it made it incredibly amusing for you. 30 minutes outside of your own city and the car had run out of fuel. If it weren’t for Jin’s distressed pleas for the car to start up and for you to forgive him for ruining this trip you would have burst out laughing a while back.

Deciding to end his misery you grabbed for his hand, now clammy from stress. “Babe, it’s ok. Let's just get out of the car and try to call someone to check the car out. We ran out of gas, it happens” rubbing your finger over the back of his hand in an attempt to call him you used your other hand to try to look for your phone.

Only to remember that in your hurry you had left without it. Groaning, you did not want to panic Jin more than he was so you did not mention your own phones. Knowing him, he’s forgotten his at home on purpose. On days when he had plans with you, he would make it a point to not spend time on his phone. Thanking your lucky stars you at least had your cards with you and some cash.

“I’m really really really sorry love” Jin gave you a pleading look. Shaking your head you sighed and opened your door. “Come on lover boy, let's get this situation fixed”

A couple of steps into the trek you finally hear the car being locked and the sound of pounding footsteps behind you. You walked in silence for 15 minutes, neither of you knowing what to say. You were decently tired and hungry but more worried about Jin’s state of mind. On the other hand your boyfriend was berating himself for ruining a perfectly planned day and probably making you upset for doing so. Finding the service phone by the side of the road you quickly phoned for someone to come and fix the situation and they informed you it may take a couple of hours to get to you. But it was better than nothing. You would probably miss entirely what Jin’s planned for you but you could always make the most of what you currently had. Now, on the way back to the car you finally sneaked a glance at your own boyfriend.

Catching his own worried gaze you looked away. You were in the middle of almost nowhere, stuck, without a car or food, it was still extremely early, and yet all you could think of was how handsome Jin looked. In the soft morning glow reflected on his skin and his messy hair stuffed under his cap, you realised how lucky you were. Misinterpreting your long stare he bit his lip, “Are you angry?” You did not want to respond to him, not yet at least. If you did you would either burst out in giggles or you would end up trying to comfort him, and you had no time to spare at the moment. Was it mean? Probably but you swore to yourself you would make it up to him. “Love” he kept insisting, “Y/N, are you angry?” Only when you heard the sadness creep into his usual tone of voice did you stop and look at him.

You opened your mouth to reply to him, but he would not allow you to speak yet. Afraid that you would start telling him how awful of a boyfriend he is, gone for long periods of time and when he is finally home he clearly cannot do anything proper, he starts stumbling over his words trying to explain himself to you. “Love, i’m so so so sorry. I did not mean for this to happen. I had the whole thing planned, i was going to take us to the seaside today so we can watch the sunrise and sunset on the beach like you have always wanted, and we were going to enjoy a picnic and a nice dip in the ocean and i was going to take you to the fair at night time so we can ride the ferris wheel and have a romantic kiss at the top and…”

As adorable as you found a rambling Jin, his red cheeks, his lips which were now extremely swollen from how much he bit them, you could not let him torture himself much longer. You were worried he may end up having a self induced anxiety attack. And you definitely were not angry as he seemed to think you would be.

“Love” you tried once, but in his distress he had stopped listening to you. “Jin” and again, finally having had enough you took three strides towards him and placed your hand over his mouth in a gentle attempt to get him to stop talking.

“It is ok. I am not angry. Not by a long shot. I don’t care about sunrises, I don't care about sunsets, I don't care about ferris wheel rides, I don't care about picnics. Seeing the hurt in his eyes you immediately added, “ I don't care about all these things if they don’t happen with you. Plans get ruined, that is why they are plans. We could have spent the whole day in our pjs and had a coffee pun competition whilst playing games and i would have not minded. We could have spent the whole day just literally doing nothing but staying in bed and I would have not minded. The thought of you even just planning to put all this together even when you are so busy is more than enough for me. Please stop apologising about this. I am not mad at all”

Jin reached out delicately and lowered your hand away from his mouth. “But it’s because I've been so busy that I have fucked up immensely. I wanted to do something nice for you to show you how much I care about you. Being away all the time is hard especially when all i want to do is have you there with me all the time but knowing that i can’t.” A strand of your hair had been blown into your face by the wind and he took his time to fix it for you, his hand dropping down onto the hollow of your neck.

“Babe, i would want nothing more than to be able to be with you all the time, but unfortunately we can’t. And you would get sick of me anyways” you laughed gently. Jin was about to protest but you continued. “ You show me everyday how much you care about me, no matter how busy you are you always take your time to talk even if briefly. You always send me cute pictures and pictures of food, which make me really jealous by the way” Jin laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“And when we do actually get to spend time together we have the best of times no matter what we do. Not because we are doing something out of the ordinary but because we are spending time together. If i’m with you i don’t care what we are doing, it’s the best time of my life” You slowly rose on your toes to press your lips to his. Seeing it as an opportunity Jin tightly wrapped your arms around your waist and lifted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal. A kiss that was meant to last a few seconds ended up with you propped against the side of the car wrapped around Jin’s sturdy frame.

“I love you” he whispered once he settled you back on his feet. “So so so much”

Prepared to answer with a confession of your own, you felt your stomach grumble. The moment now interrupted, both of you started cackling. “I love you too babe,” patting his chest, “but you know what I would love more? Some food.”

“We have a bit more to wait until we get this situation fixed” As if a lightbulb had been turned on Jin jerked away from you. “Wait here” running around to the back of the car he opened it and pulled out a cooler and two tumblrs. Ignoring your inquisitive looks he opened the cooler and got out some vanilla ice cream. Reaching out into the boot again he pulled out a pack of fresh strawberries. Laughing you finally understood.

“Milkshakes?” He held both items in his hands proudly.

When you had told him you would give anything in exchange for spending time with him you meant it. Whether the road trip would have been a success in the end, or you just called it a day after you got your car sorted. But just sitting there on the wayside by the car enjoying your makeshift milkshakes and each other’s company was complete perfection to you and you would not have it any other way.

[murdereraisuha]

I wrote this for myself to try and organize my current theories on TWST, but I might as well keep this blog going even though I’m out of ideas for card maker memes.

This is basically a rant that starts out with theorizing about RSA, the Cater=Cinderella theory, and Split Card, but then spirals into a Cater character analysis.

For anyone who doesn’t know the Cinderella theory, it’s basically just Cater might have something to do with Cinderella because he has two bossy sisters, and during the ghost marriage there was this whole thing where Riddle needs to rescue Cater before midnight because of some Queen of Hearts rule. 

Spoilers for Cater’s personal stories (including his halloween outfit story) and chat, and chapter 4 of the main story. Okay now let’s get into it. Over 1,800 words geez what am I doing with my life

   Aight so Ace and Deuce don't have their unique magics yet and there is obviously Something going on with Cater so it really makes me think that we're gonna return to Heartslabyul somewhere down the line. We know there's gotta be more stuff with RSA, so that might tie into the Cater = Cinderella theory. Maybe we have a chapter focusing on RSA and Cater will be the main focus or ally for that. IDK man, I'm still kind of eh on the Cinderella theory cause it makes a lot of sense but we already have Mozus being the evil stepmother. Him and Cater are from the same hometown (?) but my concern is that if Cater is a main focus and he gets connected to Mozus then Mozus would also be in the spotlight which would be odd given how nothing seems to suggest that the teachers (except Crowley) getting bigger roles in the story. However, it could always be a situation like with Farena where Mozus is there and some sort of connection is briefly discussed but he isn't important and maybe someone else takes the role of evil stepmother in the story.

   Ok idk so we're gonna go back to Cater. If the Cinderella theory is true, we gotta consider how exactly Cater represents Cinderella. Does he represent Cinderella in the way that he's twisted from her (ex. Azul & Ursula) or that he just takes the role of Cinderella for a chapter (ex. Azul & The Genie)? The fact that he uses dark magic points to it being the latter, that he really is twisted from a card soldier. However, we gotta consider 1. the nature of his unique magic 2. the plot of Cinderella. Though we know he has the ability to clone himself, we don't know how exactly this works. Are the clones identical, or do/can they have differences? In episode 1-15, the Cater clones all have slightly different responses ("はーい" "まかせて！" "おっけー♪") to getting ready to paint the roses. Given how clones don't exist in real life, it's impossible to tell whether this variation indicates actual differences in personality, is just due to the clones' slightly different experiences (like a sort of butterfly effect), or if it's just a decision by the writer so they aren't repetitive. Another thing to note is that in that same episode Cater claims that cloning himself is tiring. If this is the only source for this information, there's the possibility that it just was a lie to let him manipulate the 1st years into helping him paint. Finally, Cater's ability makes me think of Twice from BNHA. Can only the original Cater create clones? Or is he like Twice in that his clones can also make clones, therefore making it impossible for anyone, including himself, to tell who is the original?

  What I'm getting at here is the possibility of Cater having clones that 1. stick around permanently and 2. are significantly different than him. This would create the possibility of him being twisted from both the card soldiers and Cinderella, but he is able to use his clone ability to split up those aspects of himself. One Cater is the card soldier one normally walking around NRC and who has dark magic, but then there's another Cinderella Cater who has light magic. Assuming this is what is going on, it would kind of connect to his two-sided personality, where he presents his bubbly, social-media addict personality to the world but has another, depressed, more private personality underneath. 

  Now, getting into what I mentioned before about the plot of Cinderella, Cinderella normally looks like a humble servant. However, with the aid of the fairy godmother, she completely transforms herself into a breathtaking princess so she can go to the ball. However, once the clock strikes midnight, she transforms back. Basically, Cinderella has the ability of transformation, to have two completely different versions of herself. One version is her true, plain self, while the other is a flashy deception. This information strengthens what I just said about Cater's personality and clone ability.

  Actually, just going into Cater's personality for a bit (yeah, “a bit” lol)... He has a big focus on always being presentable. In his lab coat, he seems pretty desperate to hide all evidence of his true self, claiming that he just failed at putting his magic in the depressed mandrake and then hiding all his other mandrakes aside from the fun ones. This desperation is similar to Cinderella's, with how she flees the ball in a hurry once it reaches midnight so no one will see how she truly looks once the spell breaks. Now, why do Cater and Cinderella behave the way they do? I don't remember Cinderella's exact motivations for attending the ball, but wikipedia says that she had to flee the ball because if the spell broke there she could get caught by her stepmother & stepsisters. What is Cater's "ball"? Well, because of his strong social media presence, his "ball" is basically everywhere, all the time. If something happens on social media that exposes his true self, breaking his "spell", not only can other students see it, but his sisters can also see it.

  Cater hates sucking up to his older sisters, which implies that he has had to suck up to his older sisters and put up his happy front around them too. Just like how Cinderella can't afford to let her stepsisters realize her true identity at the ball, Cater can't afford to let his sisters realize his true self. It's honestly kind of sad; unlike Cinderella, whose stepsisters only showed up later in her life, Cater's older sisters have been around him and making him miserable for all of his life.

  Kinda unrelated, but looking though Cater's chats, in the one he has with Trey they talk about the Queen of Hearts and her love for sweets, Cater remarks that he wants to have tea with her too, leading Trey to say that Cater would be unable to befriend her since they're in different social classes. Isn't this basically a genderbent version of Cinderella, just a commoner, wanting to go to the ball where the Prince is? 

  Now going back to Cater's personality. Even if he does fear his sisters, that doesn't seem to fully explain his 24/7 pep and focus on being magicammable. Now, what if we say that happiness=nobility. In Cinderella, she dresses up like nobility so she can remain in the ball where the actually rich people are. What if Cater is acting happy so he can fit in with the people around him, who are naturally happy enough that they don't need to fake it? Is this a fake it until you make it situation? At the end of his ceremony robes story, after he says he's tired and doesn't care about the ceremony, he says he's just kidding and goes back to talking about the selfies he took that day. Even though he's alone and wouldn't really get hurt for dropping his performance. It gives the vibe to me that his situation is not like Jamil's, where he's fully aware he's unhappy, deliberately acts otherwise in front of others, and tries to eliminate the cause of his unhappiness. Instead, Cater is trying to eliminate his unhappiness itself. He grasps onto magicam because if he fills up his account with pictures of a happy life, it's like he's actually living a happy life.

  This idea I have of Cater trying to fit in also goes along with his focus on the current trends, like in one of his gym uniform voice lines where he panics at the idea of not knowing about a new popular game. Rather than making his own aesthetics or trends, he goes along with the crowd. Sweets and desserts are trendy? Then he'll take tons of pictures of them and say they're super delicious even if he actually hates sweet food. He disregards or evades his own preferences to create the appearance that he's just like everyone else, and he puts effort into staying up to date so he can maintain that appearance.

  Moving on, I reread his halloween outfit personal story. Something that stuck out was the end, when Cater thinks that Lilia wouldn't understand what he's going through. Specifically, Lilia wouldn't understand his 下らなくてどーしよーもない feelings. According to jisho, 下らない can mean trivial/not worth bothering with/worthless, and it can also mean stupid/absurd/silly. Then, どーしよーもない (どうしようもない)  means something that can't be helped, that has no way out of it. Doesn't this seem kind of odd? That he claims his feelings are just trivial then but also he can't help having them? Is this a contradiction? Or is it something like he believes that most people wouldn't have these silly feelings but he specifically is too weak to push past them?

  For self-esteem though, he seems to at least be trying to boost it. Like in his gym uniform story, when he decides to just clone himself and have each one run 1 lap instead of him running 5 by himself, his clones all praise him for the idea. However, this could be a fake it until you make it thing again. The praise does seem a bit heavy-handed. 

  There's also the whole thing in the 2nd part of the story where he talks about all the shallow friendships he has made. He notes that he'd rather have a casual time with people rather than get attached. That plus his family situation... means he's really never had anyone to trust. Anyway, he then goes on to talk about how magicame is amazing for helping him maintain all these casual friendships. So there we have another reason for his social media addiction: not only does it let him create a picture of happiness, he can get tons of feedback affirming his happiness and serving as proof of happiness. How can he possibly be lonely if he has so many friends?

  Both in his ceremony robes and halloween outfit stories have a moment where Cater is tired and admits he's tired but then downplays it. Yeah, the ceremony was tiring, but he got tons of great pictures out of it! Yeah, dealing with guests was rough, but at the same time all the halloween stuff was exciting! This sort of thing is a pretty common strategy for increasing the persuasiveness of an argument. By first agreeing (yes, he's tired) with the opposing view (he is not happy), he can then push his own view (he is happy) and point at his earlier concession as proof that he has looked at both sides of the issue instead of only looking for evidence of his own belief. 

 So basically what I'm getting here is that Cater Is Not Okay. Prevented from building close bonds with friends or family, he's reinforcing his isolation himself through his fervent efforts to never let anyone close and never let his mask drop. He's gone so far as to try and convince himself that he's happier than he actually is through self-deception and social media.

  Alright that’s all I got for now see ya

[stardancerluv]

Being a Good Friend

Epilogue Part One

Summary: Shadows of the past creep in.

Warning: none

Alex stopped walking beside you on the sandy beach. You stopped and eyed him. His worry was evident on his face.

“Alex, talk to me.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. “You can’t keep everything bottled up.”

You watched as he pressed his lips together. He looked past you before he looked back at you. His blue eyes reminded you on how sometimes, ocean could get turbulent here. He reached out and placed his hands on your tummy. Sighing, you put your hands over his. “I am fucking scared.” He finally said in a rush. “What if they find us here?” He added.

“They won’t.” You reached up and caressed his cheek, ignoring how he flinched.

“I’d be beside myself if anything were to happen to you and our little one.” He leaned into your cheek, he made a strangled sigh as he looked downward.

“They won’t Alex, it will be ok.”

******

That had been the last either of you had spoken of Juliet for quite a bit of time.

Waking with a start, Alex was breathless. He could’t remember what had made him so scared in his dream but he certainly was awake now. He did not see falling back to sleep happening anytime soon so he gently eased out of bed, careful to not wake you. It was almost five in the morning.

Pulling on his flannel robe, he went to check on little his Alexandria, his little Lexi. The moon and the dawn that was approaching flooded her room silvery, blue light. He heard her baby coos and gurgles before he even saw her.

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh love?”

There you were standing and holding on as tight as you could to the railing. She wiggled as he drew close. “Hello, my little princess. You’re happy to see daddy aren’t you ?”Reaching down, he gently picked her up and she almost immediately nestled close to his chest.

His heart swelled as he held her. He walked out onto the balcony to look at the he dark ocean lapping at the beach. Rubbing her back he looked out, she let out a burp that made Alex laugh so hard. “You may be my princess but you are a lot like daddy.” Cupping her head gently he gave it a soft kiss.

He gasped when over her head, he saw someone looking up at them. He immediately shrank back into the apartment. Fear gripped his heart. He looked around, putting his little princess down. Hunching over he walked over to the balcony. He peaked over the edge, whoever had been there was gone. It did not stop his heart from racing. Scooping up his princess he held her. What was he going to do, he just didn’t know.

*******

You put a bowl in front him the next morning. “Alex, are you ok?” You stood beside him as he ate his cereal. Absently, you played with his hair, it was getting longish. You were going to enjoy it while you could.

He nodded.

“Are you sure? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

He finally looked at you and grimaced. “I checked on our little princess and when I did, we went out to the balcony. Someone was looking up at ours.”

“Are you sure?”

“At five in the morning, I’m sure.” He looked even worse then he did moments ago. “When I went go and look they were gone.”

“Good, maybe it was just someone walking by who happened to look up.” He sat back and pulled you onto his lap. “I really hope so.”

It couldn’t possible be Rose or Juliet, you mused as you hugged him. Your stomach, as you felt ill at the thought.

Lexi cooed and gurgled, lifting your head you smiled at your precious little girl. Who so many ways was just like her daddy from her wild auburn hair, bright blue eyes and some of her expressions she’d make when she spoke to either of you in her baby babble.

“Ok, we’ll stop ignoring you princess. Do you like your strained apples?”

“Daddy found you those apples.”

Right at that moment, she took a spoon and flicked it and it landed right on daddy’s face. You giggled into Alex’s shoulder who just looked stunned.

“She told you.” You giggled further into his shoulder.

******

After Alex had gone to work at the paper, you went to go and check the mail. Alex’s mum had said she she had sent a package for the baby. So you have been watching the mail like a hawk.

“Sra Law, Sra Law.” Turning, you smiled. You were still not over the giddy feeling you felt when someone would call you Mrs. Law.

“Sim.” You knew very few words but the ones you knew, you used. Sim = Yes in Portuguese

“There was a break in last night.”

Remembering, what Alex had said made fear knot in your stomach. You shifted Lexi to your other hip. “Do we know who did it? Is there any leads?”

The man shook his head. “Nao. They didn’t take anything but we’re telling the residents to make sure they lock their doors and we’ll be keeping an extra security guard on tonight.” (Nao = No in Portuguese)

“Obrigada. We’ll stay safe. I’ll tell Alex, I mean Senhora Law.” (Mrs. Law in Portuguese)

“Very good.” The sweet man who had been on the first to welcome you the complex, gently patted the back of Lex’s head. “She is such a sweet baby.”

“She is. Though she did throw some apples earlier.”

The man gave a belly laugh. “She has a a strong will like her mommy and daddy.”

You smiled, she certainly did with all she survived but you simply nodded. “She really is.” You agreed.

******

You put Lexi down for a nap once you got back to the flat. She went down easily. Once she was breathing evenly, you called Alex.

“Hi love.” He purred into the phone.

“Alex, can you come home?”

“I can try it is a heavy news day, with all the prep for carnival coming.”

“Please try to get home, tell them I am being a silly mommy. I need you home.”

“Are you ok?”

“I will be once you get here.”

“Ok, I will be there soon.”

****

He had not heard you this upset since well before. He swallowed hard and quickly typed up the last few lines he needed for his article. He the. Sent it to the editor. Taking out his wallet he managed to find in one of the pockets, he found Detective McCall’s card. He called him.

“Why Mister Law, I was just thinking about you.”

Alex rolled his eyes, the man could be dramatic.

“I hope those were good thoughts.”

The man chuckled at the other end of the line. “You know in my field there is rarely good news. Well, we are still attempting to track down Juliet Miller. We believe her and her lover boarded a boat headed to South America.”

“Oh, that is brilliant.”

“Hey stay positive there are only three known ships that take passengers so we are watching those. We will pick her up in no time.”

He sighed. “Great.” He grimaced. “ I suppose that is a good thing.” Alex was feeling confined, he desperately wanted to hang up.

“It is. Now, tell me how are you and the wee girl ? Is she keeping you up all night.”

“Not yet, but she did throw her breakfast at me this morning.”

The man chuckled, “They’ll do that.”

“Well, I better finish this article, there is always a story that needs to be covered.”

“Right, well talk to you soon Mr. Law.”

******

Thankfully, his boss was understanding and knew exactly what he was going through. Also gave him tickets to go and see it with you and the little princess. That way not only could he enjoy it but he could also cover it.

He managed to get one cigarette in before getting to the flat. He had really cut back, but with his news of Juliet loose made his old habit come back and hard.

When he came into the living room, he found you with your legs drawn up and your arms around them. You startled when he came to sit beside you. “Baby, what’s the matter? What happened?”

You threw your arms around him. He almost fell backwards but he held firm and held you tight. He resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Someone broke into the apartment complex last night. Maybe that is who you saw last night.” You pulled back and looked at him. Oh, he hated seeing you so upset. That is why you two came here to get away from all of that.

“Are they doing anything about it?” He felt like someone punched him. So someone had certainly been there last night.

“There will be an extra guard.”

“That’s good.”

*****

Sometime later when you started a late lunch for the two you, he shed his work clothes and slipped into some sweats and and sweat shirt. He went and checked on his precious Lexi.

“Ola, Ola?” (Hello in Portuguese)

He heard you say but nothing further.

“Shall we go and check on Mum?” Scooping Lexi up, he held her and walked into the kitchen.

“Who was that?”

You were stirring a the begging stages of what looked like a delicious stew or soup couldn’t tell just what yet.

“I don’t know it’s the second one today.”

Putting Lexi down in her high chair, he got her some yogurt. “Now, let’s not throw this at Daddy alright?” He traced her sweet soft cheek. She certainly only his heart and she was still such a wee thing.

He went over to you, and wrapped his arms around your middle. We’ll be ok. He whispered and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll be ok., I promise” He assured you.

Walking with you away from the stove, “Alex, I’m cooking.” He chuckled. “You know me, I love being a sweet distraction.” You giggled at that, and that you let him gently turn you around. “I do have some good news.”

You smiled gently. “Yes?”

“My boss wants me to cover carnival in two days and he gave me tickets so that you, Lexi and I could go.”

Your eyes lit up then. “Oh, that is wonderful.”

“It will be and it will give us a chance to get away a little bit. Clear our heads.”

“I’d like that.”

@mac-n-cheesie @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @rentskenobi @brookisbi @johallzy @darling-i-read-it @professionalclown @chogisss @calcifvr @i-love-scott-mccall @stardust-and-starlight @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @unfilteredmoonchild @sithonis @xbrex @hollow-r-us

[whootwhoot]

»»——"𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯" 𝘫𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 —««

- character: jahad/data jahad (to be spesific) 

- series: tower of god

- genre: fluff, office worker and manager 

- “Worker’s confession” jahad x reader one shot

- (author’s note: I’ll put the banner up later, I don’t have the right photo right now aaA, also I’m so sorry if I butchered your request this is horrible lmAO and it took so darn long, I’ll improve my writing skill and re-write this if possible) 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------It’s a regular weekday, you are alone in the office trying to finish up your shift for the night. It was a quiet night, the only thing beside your presence was just your desk light. 

“Finally…” you lean back in your chair and stretch your stiff shoulders. 

You’ve been sitting in the same positions for hours and your body feels like a heavy rock. While rubbing your eyes, you get up and start to clear the stationary on your table. 

You look towards your manager’s room, upon realising that the lights are still on, your eyes light up and your mouth instantly forms a cheeky grin. 

You take a deep breath and turn the door knob, flinging the door open to greet your boss.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand they enter the room, surprising Jahad!” you narrate while entering 

Jahad was sitting at the desk, in front of his computer, with his head in his hands. He jerks his head upwards and plasters a small smirk on his face. 

“Hey Miss Y/n.” 

“Are you done with work yet?” 

“Also everyone’s gone just call me Y/n.”

“Okay, Y/n. Is it a worker’s business to know what their boss is up to?” he asks while raising his eyebrows.

“Shift is over so the worker status doesn’t apply now.”

“According to who now?”

“Well, me.”

“So? Are you done or not.”

“You sure are impatient.”

“I’m craving for some food, and I know a great barbeque plaza nearby.”

“It’s 12am.”

“Who cares? It’s food!” 

“And why are you asking me?”

“I thought maybe, just maybe, my boss might be up for some late night supper.” 

Jahad stands up while shuffling the paper in his hands, avoiding any eye contact with you. You slowly moved towards the door, turning your head back to ask one more time.

“Soooo, you coming?”

“Of course.”

----

“Freedom!”

Jahad gives you a dismissive head shake as you yell and skip down the path in front of the office. This isn’t the first time you went for supper or eat together with Jahad, although it was usually on rare occasions where he invites you to eat with him. It was usually just for companies meet and greets. 

The aroma of the meat makes your stomach growl as the two of you approach the barbeque plaza, it growls louder after you finish ordering the mouth watering food on the menu.

“Y/n, That was you wasn’t it.” 

“How hungry are you?” 

“Me? No, I’m fine.”

Right on que, your uncooperative stomach growls yet again, gaining you a glare from Jahad.

“I might’ve skipped dinner…” 

Jahad’s glare seem to pierce through your skin as he asks

“Again?” 

“Last time, I promise!” 

“That’s what you-”

You are saved by the waitress as she places the tray of food on the table. 

----

While eating, you try to fill the awkwardness in the air. The relationship between you and Jahad are way past workers and managers. Despite you being not subtle at all, Jahad seems blindy oblivious to all this.

“Jahad… you don’t have a girlfriend right?” 

His reaction makes you giggle as he scrambles to get water while choking on the food in his mouth. 

“No, is it a mandatory thing among workers and bosses to know about each other’s love life?”

“I’m just interested in what kind of girl you’d be into.”

You twirl the ends of the strands of your hair while lowering your head. 

“I don’t have the answer to that.”

Silence was filled with the sound of clanking plates and silverware for a few minutes.

“How about you, how's your love life like?” 

Jahad glances at you while rubbing the palm of his hands together.

“It might sound silly but I have a crush on someone right now.”

“You do?”

Jahad sits up with his back straightened, directly looking at you with his golden irises enlarge.  

“I- I mean yeah, why do you sound so surprised?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Am I supposed to answer your questions about my love life or?”

“Oh, oh- yeah, ok right.”

Jahad clears his throat and adjusts his tie while you scramble in order to find another topic to talk about.

“Oh yeah, congratulations on getting Khun’s Company to seal the deal for our newest project! I wasn't sure if it was going to work out but I'm glad I trusted you Jahad! ”

“Trust me?”

“I've always trusted you since being an intern here.”

Jahad adverts his gaze, clenching his fist while flashing his signature small smirk. 

“The khuns… they're pretty cunning so it’s good to get them on our side.”

“This reminds me, do you- I mean like, between Khun Aguero and you, do you have some sort of thing going on?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“You two seem really close during the party.” 

“Let’s see… he walked up to me and praised me for being able to handle such a cold hearted boss and that’s all.”

“Do you think I’m cold hearted?” 

“NO! Of course not, I mean you built a pretty thick wall around you so others might think that way.” You give a bitter laugh as Jahad stands up and excuses himself to the bathroom. 

You lightly slap the sides of your face after your hands run through your hair. 

Why is he so oblivious? Maybe you aren’t obvious enough… No way you told him that you trusted him and you don’t think he’s cold! Why did you bring up relationships? Just how desperate are you?

A shadow falls over you as a familiar voice rang.

“Let’s go.” 

You intentionally close the gap little by little as you and Jahad walk down a long path to get to his car. 

“This is it, I’ll tell him right now.”

“Jahad” “Y/n”

The both of you stop walking at the same time and look directly at each other, letting out a small laugh. Jahad places his hands in his front pockets while letting out a harsh breath.

“I’ll go first, Jahad.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching your fists 

“I like you, like, like like you. I know the whole no dating in the office thing but I can’t help it… you were such an amazing friend and that's so unfair! People say your cold, but you make me laugh! Since you’re as dense as a brick, I end up talking to you about so many things and well, you just listen and-”

Jahad’s gentle arms wrap around you, you feel his body pressing onto yours, the indescribable warmth around your chest. One hand softly stroking your head while the other strongly gripping on your waist. 

“I’m sorry…” his sentence came out as a whisper 

Your cheeks were tainted with light pink, sinking into the warmth of his body. Feeling each other’s heartbeat as he tightly holds you in his arms. The world around you freezes as you squeed him back, not wanting the moment to end. 

“Y/n… I like you too, I just never really noticed that feeling before I saw you laughing with Khun at the party.”

“That smile made me realise I wanted it all for myself, I want to be the person to make you laugh like that.” “Only your smile can warm the depths of my chilly heart.”

Jahad jokes while laughing as he pulls away from the hug.

“Am I dreaming...? I don’t really know what to say.”

“It’s all right, your lovely smile says it all.”

He reaches for your face and his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

“What happened to you, how are you so cheesy all of a sudden?”

He laughs lightly while you stare into his eyes, specks of gold seems to shimmer brighter now that his feelings are confessed. 

“You did.”

[tobiomlk]

39 for kageyama if you can ....... please :')

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿. kageyama tobio

𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁. #39 “don’t cry.”

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲. hurt / comfort !!! tobio is no good with tears and i love him

Kageyama knows it’s bad when Suga-senpai confronts him about it.

“So,” he ambushes him during lunch time, around the vending machine (Of course he waits around the vending machine, Kageyama’s favoured spot to get his daily dose of milk). “What happened?”

Kageyama frowns. “About what?”

“You know what I mean.” However, Sugawara smiles, in that nurturing way of his that always makes Kageyama feel a little lighter. And a little troubled as well, because he can’t believe how utterly transparent he could be at times.

Kageyama chooses to direct his glowering towards the vending machine, gaze flickering between a carton of milk or yogurt, a predicament he struggled with each day— but which was considerably easier to deal with, next to the one he currently had at hand, that’s it. He growls when he notices the guilt is dawning upon him, again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sugawa asks, gently as ever, and Kageyama wants to say no, because a part of him does not wants to talk about it. But the other part, the vulnerable, insecure one, seems to be taking over him more often than not these days, and so he decides there’s no harm in speaking to a familiar face.

Far too violently, Kageyama presses both buttons simultaneously and lets the vending machine do the decision for him. “We had a fight,” he says, quietly. 

“So I heard,” Sugawara recognizes, but Kageyama isn’t really phased about it. Suga is, like, everyone’s go-to when it came for a comforting presence. He’s reliable, a good listener, and just as great at offering advice. He’s the type of person with lots of strengths that Kageyama himself lacks, and Kageyama can’t help but envy him, just a tiny bit. “It was that bad?” he probes, and Kageyama purses his lips in a flat line.

To put it truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to be that bad. To put it very frankly, it was incredibly and thoroughly moronic of both of you to have gotten so worked up over such a silly argument. Because that’s what it was; a silly argument, a minor discussion that the two of you blowed out of proportion and allowed to scalate the way it did. Stupid, sensitive teenagers.

“Have you tried talking to them?” Sugarawa asks.

“Yes,” Kageyama replies, but he doesn’t seem precisely happy. “but they don’t wanna talk to me.”

“The cold shoulder, huh?” Sugawara sighs, very much like a father would do. “Well, they can be quite petty, too.”

Kageyama nods in silence, lacking for better words. It frustrates him to no end, to be on such terms with you, to have you completely overlooking his existence. It frustrates him. And he doesn’t even gets to apologize or raise the flag of truce because you won’t even look his way. The mere thought is enough to have him slamming his head into the wall and scream at the top of his lungs.

“What are you planning to do, then?” 

Kageyama stops himself from doing so, though. “What can I do? They’re gonna ignore me anyways.”

“But you don’t want to let things go on like this, do you?”

Kageyama’s frowns deepens (if that’s even possible), but before his brain’s broken wires can sort out a way out of this fucking mess, his focus is taken away by a tiny little drop in his right cheek— followed by another one, and other one—

“Well, no one told me that it would be raining today,” Sugawara says as he looks up, gray clouds gathering above them. “C’mon, let’s get going before we get soaked.”

Kageyama agrees, although half-heartedly. For whatever reason, the light drizzle failing upon them seems to be reminding him of something, but he can’t exactly put his finger as to what it is. He always brings his umbrella, he couldn’t possibly have forgotten it—

Oh.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Powerless, you stand at the entrance of the school as you take in how the harmless rain at the beginning of the day had evolved into a massive downpour. Most of the students proceed to head off under the shelter of their respective umbrellas; shelter you can’t afford because, mind you, you rarely cared enough to bring an umbrella of your own. 

Tobio always shared his with me, after all…

No. Don’t think about Tobio. Don’t think about Tobio and his pouty face and how he always puts up a fight before letting you get away with whatever you want, the space under his umbrella included. Don’t you think about it. You’re supposed to be mad at him, and rightfully so. He was mean (and so were you) and said mean things (and so did you) and you weren’t going to let it slide just like that. You had a pride to keep. Yes. You had one. 

(But what about him?) No, this isn’t about him. This isn’t about him. (He’s probably hurt, too) And that’s on him. He started it all (let’s be real, you kinda were at fault as well) and he’s gotta live with it. (But he tried? To apologize? Several times?) NO. You don’t wanna hear it. You’re mad, reasonably mad, and it’s perfectly warranted. You could be mad for the rest of your life, if you wanted to (but you didn’t). End of the discussion.

The rain comes down steadily. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop any time soon. Fuck it. You’re not letting the rain keep you stuck with your inner conflict any longer. You bend forward to make sure your shoes are strongly tied and place your backpack over your head, making the perfect shield. You’re Unstoppable now. No rain is getting into your way.

Ready, steady...

“What are you doing, dumbass?”

Go— Ok, no go.

You’re torn between offering him a snarky reply, scowling at him or simply icing him out, but once you lock eyes with Tobio all you want to do is (redacted). Oh, would you look at that, you brain has already repressed that memory!

“None of your concern,” you end up saying, immediately averting his gaze. Tobio can’t even feel glad about you finally breaking your vow of silence towards him.

“Is that so,” he replies, and you hate how defeated he sounds. How can you be mad at him if he doesn’t make it easy for you?

“Are you heading home?” he tries once again, and you’re definitely not endeared by it.

“Well, I was going to before someone stopped me.” 

“It’s raining,” he points out.

“It certainly is,” you agree.

An uncomfortable silence follows. It’s one you aren’t used to at all, especially around Tobio. It felt so wrong.

You’re oh-so interested into the tip of your shoes that it startles you a little when a familiar umbrella suddenly appears in your field of vision. You didn’t even feel Kageyama coming closer, but there he was; standing a few steps away from you, handing his very own blue-ish umbrella. It takes you a second to take in the whole situation.

“Here,” he says, not budging an inch from his position. There are so many things you could question, but you can’t even find your voice to do so. Kageyama scoffs. “Don’t give me that look. You never bring one yourself, do you?”

And then it hits you. Violently, like a sudden epiphany, even when it’s something you’ve known for a long time now.

He cares.

Seeing you aren’t trying to accept the offer, Tobio nudges the umbrella in your direction, vehemently. Nothing. He knits his brows together. He knows you’re stubborn, but so is he, and he isn’t taking a no for answer— Wait.

“... Are you crying?” 

It’s crazy how all it takes for you to crack are three words, because suddenly you’re choking on your own tears, so it’s kinda pointless to try to keep appearances now. And Kageyama dies a little, because oh my god you’re crying.

“Hey… Hey!” he flails, voice admittedly cracking. “Why are you crying? It’s— It’s something I did?”

But since you’re in no condition to speak up, his questions remain unanswered. He has never been at such a loss for words as he stares at you, sobbing and whimpering and scrubbing at your face just to let more tears stream down your cheeks, pretty much like a kid would do, which only makes it all the more heart-wrenching. All the more unbearable to witness.

Kageyama unconsciously searches in his pockets for a handkerchief or a tissue or anything that would make you stop crying, really, only to realize he doesn’t even has one of those to offer up. But there’s something in the way you cry your heart out that shakes him to the very core, that disarms him and calls for desperate measures. So, he does something he usually wouldn’t.

You flinch noticeably when a hand hesitantly brushes against your cheek. The touch is awkward, yet undeniably gentle, and you momentarily stop your crying to blink up at him through the tears. It’s blurry, but you can still make out his deep blue eyes. The way he freezes as soon as he’s caught, like he’s just broken some sort of unspoken rule by initiating physical contact and is waiting for divine retribution or something. His lips pursing in that signature pout of his. You take in every part of him, gratefully.

“You hate me?” You don’t even realize how uncalled for your question sounds until it’s out, but what is done is done, and Kageyama seems so genuinely bewildered— It’s almost laughable.

“How could I possibly hate you?”

And that’s all you need to put aside every bit of your stubborn pride.

“I don’t wanna fight anymore,” you state, finally.

Kageyama needs an actual second to register your words. “Ok,”

“I hate fighting.”

“Me too,” he admits, far too quickly to be insincere, far too unfiltered for your liking.

“I don’t wanna be mad at you,” You’re probably just running your mouth at this point, but you just can’t bring yourself to stop. “and I don’t want you to be mad at me, either.”

“I’m not mad at you.” he says, and it’s as comforting as it is nerve-wrecking. “And you don’t have to be mad, if you don’t want to.”

Sniffle. A tiny, selfish tear attempts to slip away, but Tobio wipes it before she gets too far. “So don’t cry…”

But crying does not obeys anyone’s command, so you keep sniffing and snivelling for a while until you’re finally done with it, and Tobio stays. He’d stay forever, if you’d let him.

Eventually, the rain ceases.

[rant-2-me]

My mental state has just worsened over the days, though I'm not sure why, and I just feel so unmotivated and lacking any energy to practice any self care other than napping, and also feel anxious because I'm not studying enough.. feel like I'm just 1/4th assing my responsibilities.. And when someone asks me how I'm doing, sometimes I blurt out that I'm not fine, and the guilt I feel afterwards for making them worry, so I find myself withdrawing from initiating conversation with them, even though I really want to, and this makes them worry about me more.. I just don't know anything anymore, everything feels too much, yet I can't rant in a clear conscience without feeling guilty for bothering them, and thinking how I don't deserve to complain because they have had so much worse (yes I know pain is relative, but I feel so horrible, like a whiny child, who doesn't know how to be content with her blessings)......

Sorry I know it's a lot.. feel free to delete it if it's triggering or making you uncomfortable in any way... I just needed to get it out..

My lovely nonnie, im so, so glad you sent this ask. and got it all out of your system. yeah this sounds cheesy but like ive been there, with not knowing how to reach out—im proud you had the courage to send this ask. girlboss vibes.

also this ask took a while to answer and im so so sorry about that, but I didnt want to do anything less than the best for you, so let's just jump right in <[:)

Lacking motivation, god I've been there, but doing self care is super super important so here is a how-to, hon.

How to do selfcare when you’re not motivated to:

1. Be a little “gross.”

Gross is in quotes because it’s so subjective, but you undoubtedly have a few behaviors you consider kind of gross regardless. Now’s the time to do them without judgment. For me, that’s meant showering less, eating weird food combos (sometimes in bed), and letting my brows and mustache grow magnificently unruly. For you, it could mean doing something you normally judge yourself for or cutting back on activities you only do for the benefit of others. Now is not the time to allow “socially acceptable” behaviors to rule you.

2. Eat whatever the hell you want.

This should be a rule always, but I’m not going to pretend there aren’t societal, social, and personal pressures that go into why we eat what we eat. Try to shut down the voice that judges or polices what you’re eating right now. We’re in the middle of a goddamn pandemic. If dinner has to be some slices of cheese and deli meat eaten in front of the open fridge, so be it. If you have a lot of cravings and are snacking more than you normally would, cool. If pre-pandemic you decided you were going to stick to a certain meal plan and it’s just not happening anymore? Don’t beat yourself up.

Yes, what we eat is connected to our mental health, and I don’t want to discount that—but if the stress of eating healthfully is making you feel like crap anyway, whether that’s because you can’t fathom cooking or don’t have the means to shop for certain foods during isolation, just eat the sleeve of Oreos and try again another day. It’s okay.

3. And wear whatever you want.

Or, more realistically, wear whatever you can. Even if it means wearing the same ratty sweatpants for a whole week. Or month. Maybe you started all this out aspiring to get dressed every day to work from home productively, or maybe you have a whole collection of comfortable loungewear you feel guilty for not utilizing. Whatever arbitrary rules and expectations you’ve set for yourself, you can throw them out.

On the other hand, maybe you need to quiet the voice that tells you there’s no point in getting dressed or feeling presentable. If it helps, by all means, play with your look, wear awesome or weird outfits, do your hair and makeup or whatever activity might feel a little silly given your current reality. In the middle of a pandemic, nothing is a waste of time if it makes you feel good.

4. Use shortcuts to avoid creating chores.

In my first week or so of working entirely from home, I was baffled by just how messy my apartment got. How on earth were so many messes piling up when I wasn’t even doing anything but working, sleeping, and eating? I hadn’t realized it, but a lot of my small tidying routines had become casualties to the pandemic. And, it turns out, slacking on the little ways I pick up after myself every day (such as doing the dishes right after I use them) added up quickly.

Instead of forcing myself to stick to the same levels of tidiness that I used to maintain, I’ve found shortcuts. For example, I use paper plates and plastic cutlery when I feel too fatigued to wash dishes so they don’t sit in the sink for days on end. Or I stick to the same two “outfits” to avoid clothes piling up when I’m too depressed to put them away every day. If you can find a small way to go easy on yourself, even if it feels a little wasteful or indulgent or gross, it’s okay to tap into those shortcuts right now.

5. Be kind to yourself if your place is messy or dirty.

I won’t lie: I’m someone whose space impacts my mental health a lot. Typically, keeping my apartment clean helps keep my mental health in check and letting my apartment get gross makes me feel worse. That’s still true in a lot of ways, but to adapt I’ve been trying to be mindful and accepting of where I’m at. And it’s…helped?

It turns out that taking the pressure off does a lot to mitigate the guilt and some of the other negative mental health effects I usually experience. In practice, it involves a lot of talking to myself. Instead of seeing my apartment turning into a depression cave and immediately thinking, “Oh, God, I need to clean up, this is so disgusting, I’m a monster for living like this, of course I feel depressed,” I go for kindness. I think (or even say out loud because, well, desperate times), “Of course my apartment is a mess right now. I’ll get to it when I get to it. I can handle the mess for now.”

6. Accept your new sleep schedule.

idk anyone whose sleep hasn’t been screwed in some way by all of this. Anxiety, depression, fatigue, pent-up energy from sheltering in place, tech use, new work responsibilities, screwy schedules…pretty much every aspect of our new reality can impact our sleep. Some people are sleeping a lot more, some are sleeping a lot less, and some are cycling through both extremes. Oh, and the temptation of naps! It’s all there.

Trying to maintain a healthy sleep schedule during all of this is a worthy endeavor—and more power to you if you’ve figured out how—but there’s a good chance that it feels impossible.

By “accepting” your new sleep schedule, I don’t mean pretending it doesn’t suck; I mean doing what you can to be gentle on yourself about it. For me, acceptance has looked like watching some comfort tv and reading my favourite books at 2 a.m. instead of staying in bed and anxiety-spiraling about how I can’t sleep. Is it ideal? No way. But I’m not going to waste energy stressing about something I currently can’t control.

7. Give yourself plenty of room to do absolutely nothing.

I’ve given myself permission to do a whole lot of nothing. That includes getting rid of the pressure to be productive and practice self-care, yes, but in a broader sense, it also means not forcing myself to actively “adjust” every day.

Some days, I just need to do nothing but feel my feelings. Or avoid feeling my feelings. Or stare at the ceiling. Give yourself space to do (or not do) whatever you need to.

also, nonnie? my love?

Never feel guilty about telling someone who cares about you when you don’t feel okay.

People who genuinely care about you—and I’m sure they are many—will care if you aren’t feeling good, there are always going to be people who care about you, who want you to be okay, that’s why they ask, why people make rant, why “how are you?” is such a common question.

But if you do need to talk, but you feel like you’ll “burden” people who you do talk to, here’s a guide to ranting.

Guide to ranting:

1. Pick the right person. Someone who’s in the right headspace to listen to you, you could also pick someone who cares about you—if you’re anxiety tells you nobody cares about you, pick someone who “should” care about you in your relationship, e.g: a friend you’ve had for a long time, a friend who’s told a few of their problems, or friend you might not feel close with, but seems very kindhearted and a good listener.

2. Pick the right time to talk to them, so you can have their undivided attention. If they are busy—as most people will be with something—they’ll have a hard time giving you good advice and listening to you. Ask them when they are free, and then ask them:

3. “hey, can we talk? I’m not mad or you or anything, it’s just that I have been not feeling great, and I just want to rant to someone about it.” and “No pressure to say yes, you might have your own stuff to do deal with.” to make sure they are the right person to talk to.

4. It’s ok to test the waters. Start slowly, you don’t have to share everything at once if you don’t want to.

5. You never know how your friend will react to what you say.While you can’t know how they’ll react, just remember that sometimes people’s initial reactions may come from a place of shock, surprise or not knowing what to say. Their initial reaction isn’t always their longerterm reaction, it may just take them a little time to process.

6. Look for ways to take action. Don’t get me wrong, ranting can be amazing for you, but on its own may not solve your problem.

But maybe venting to people isn’t for you. No matter! There are other ways to get out emotions:

Ways to rant without talking to anyone

1. Cry it out— simple and rewarding. When the baggage is just too heavy to carry cry it out. It can help you ease the pressure and ease your mind to think straight after days of holding that frustration in.

2. Work out — easy and fun. tire yourself out and release all the frustration in working out! This is going to be so satisfying for you as you try and punch, kick, balance, lift, and breathe those frustrations away.

3. Clean & rearrange — practical and can be fun. we get frustrated by so many things and one thing that can truly help clear our minds is to have a clean place where we can stay and live for the moment to breathe. Clean your room, rearrange your things and you’ll be surprised by the satisfaction this brings — a signal of a new beginning.

4. Scribble — simple and fun. Make scribbles, doodles, drawings, take a pen or a pencil, and let go. It does not have to be “good” art or professional at all. Just draw whatever comes to heart, sunflowers or clouds or rainbows—anything.

5. Write it down — fun and simple. Let those words out of your head and just live in the moment.

How to fight the lack of motivation.

1. Don't fight the lack of motivation.

If you feel down or unable to muster tons of energy, let it be ok. Be easy on yourself and acknowledge that it's ok to have a dip, especially at this time of the year.

2. Once you have accepted your slump, get to the bottom of it.

Ask yourself, "What is the root cause of this sluggish feeling?" Go deeper than the obvious reasons. Is it related to work? Your personal life? Relationships? It might also just be the weather. Get clear on what areas of your life you're feeling the most resistance.

3. Dig into that area. What is not ideal about this aspect of your life? What would make it better?

Make a list of how you'd like your current situation to improve--and be specific. If you truly can't find a reason to be less than enthusiastic, then accept your feelings and let them pass with time.

4. Take your list of what is missing and go through it.

What is holding you back from being able to create the things that are missing in your life?

5. Get support for creating the life you want.

Do some research and find an expert to help you. Even though they love you, friends and family aren't objective enough, and they tend to give advice that is a reflection of their own life and insecurities.

6. Think of current habits that are contributing to a less-than-ideal life.

Maybe it's fear, laziness, or not having enough confidence. Pick one to focus on.

7. Address this habit over the next 2 months.

They say it takes 28 days to create a new habit, but this varies from person to person. If you focus on it for two months, you are sure to build the neural pathways needed to call it a new way of being.

8. Buy a book, read articles or do some research on this particular behavior or feeling.

Read about the common causes of this habit as well as the proven ways to bust through and work around it.

9. Create a plan around shifting your current habit.

Make sure that changing this habit ultimately helps you move forward in the area of your life that is not ideal. The energy from clarity, awareness and then action will immediately get you feeling more motivated, no matter what.

10. When all else fails: make a list of activities that excite you, and do one of them right now.

Talk to a fun friend, dance around at home, workout, watch a funny YouTube video, tackle something on your to-do list. Accomplishing something will give you a hit of dopamine in your brain. If you're too overwhelmed by your day, sit for five minutes and meditate. Put on some soothing music and breathe.

okay, that's all nonnie, I hope you feel the lust for life in your lungs, please have all my love, i hope this helped, this ask took a while, but it was worth if it helps

and if you need to dont worry to send another ask, if you like spam the inbox!! queen!!!

take care, much love my sweet honey, bye <3

—*putting daisies in your hair as they leave* mod peppermint <[:)