#what if emotionally i am just not good enough to be loved well because i know i am a dysregulated mess and i try to work on it

[lovelivision]

★‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ GET YOU BACK! ❞

･ ⟢ ⋮ summary. . . toji is your ex-husband and he deeply regrets ever having let the marriage fall apart, he doesn't plan on giving up after the divorce though, determined to get you back. . .

.pairing﹒ꕀ. fushiguro toji / reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎wc.⁀⊹ 3.4k

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ 18+ only, smut, mdni, swearing, porn with some (?) plot, biting, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), creampie, f!reader, toji is a little obsessed maybe

Toji is still so desperately in love with you – his ex-wife – and he’s refusing to let you forget just how much you mean to him. Always showing up whenever you need him and if he’s being honest, maybe scaring away potential future relationships. He swears he has good reasons for each of them though, that first guy was definitely taking advantage of you because you were sad from the divorce and the other guy… well, he had a creepy vibe.

Maybe he’d feel worse about it if he thought any of them deserved you, hell he thinks he barely deserves you, let alone these fucking losers. You’re far too special to him and he regrets ever letting the marriage get to the point where you left but he’ll spend every day he has left trying to get you back.

Every time you call him for something – or to tell him off for something – his heart stammers in his chest. Your voice like music to his ears, stupid smile on his face even when you’re mad at him, far too adorable for him to be annoyed.

You’re frustrated and huffing down the line at him, “Toji, are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” he snickers, “I love listening to you.”

“This is exactly what I mean, Toji… you need to move on,” sigh more sad than anything else.

Countering with, “Can you honestly tell me you’ve moved on?”

There’s a heavy silence from your end of the line, pausing for slightly too long before dodging his question, “…Stop meddling in my life and find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Maybe you should’ve been this communicative during our marriage then.

He imagines your lower lip pulling up like how it often did when you were at your wits end with him, his heart pulling at the thought, he misses you so damn much. “I’ve never wanted anyone else, doll. I–”

“–Could’ve fooled me,” before he can interrupt, you add, “I’m hanging up now and I don’t plan on reaching out to you again… bye, Toji.”

The line dead just as he opens his mouth to reply, soft groan leaving him, frustrated with himself for going a tad too far this time. For now, he’ll give you space, just for now, he’s hoping that you’ll cave and call him again, hoping you miss him just as much as he misses you.

He has so many regrets from the relationship, he should’ve been more attentive, he should’ve been more emotionally available for you. He’s always loved you, loved you so much that he could barely breathe, it’s his mistake that he didn’t show that to you enough while you were his. If he could go back, he would’ve never stopped doing the little things, he wouldn’t have let himself take you for granted…

A few weeks go by after that call and you haven’t reached out to him at all, he’s growing impatient, missing the sound of your voice. It’s a complete coincidence when he runs into you, you’re on the side of the street with some guy. You don’t notice Toji but he definitely notices you, how could he not?

You’re all dressed up and looking so pretty and just as he’s about to leave so he can avoid whatever is about to happen, you slap the man. The smile on Toji’s face appears suddenly and with little control on his part, though he doesn’t deny that he enjoys the way you’re clearly cursing the guy out. Only watching for a moment and then quickly moving to your side because the guy is getting angrier, his fists balling at his sides as his jaw clenches.

Toji places his hand on the small of your back, towering over the man in front of you both. Though he’s mostly ignoring him, addressing you instead, “You look real pretty tonight, doll.”

You’re clearly surprised, having tensed at his touch until you heard his voice, “Toji? What are you doing here?”

“Just passing by when I happened across an interesting scene,” he’s feeling some type of way at the fact you visibly relaxed when it was him next to you, smug maybe? Maybe just pure happiness that you’re still comfortable around him.

“Try not to look so pleased,” your eyes roll at him and he can’t help but notice how pretty the particular shade of them is under the lights tonight.

“Uhh, hello?” your presumed date makes himself known, “Who the fuck is this and can you tell me what the fuck I did to deserve being slapped?”

You snap back, not in the mood to deal with his attitude right now, “You’re a fucking creep is what you did and who this is, is none of your business.”

His tone is all matter-of-fact when he talks again, “This is a date, the third one actually and–”

“I’m telling you right now that you don’t want to finish your sentence,” you’re trying to warn him, not for your benefit but his, “just leave and block my number.”

He goes to argue with you some more but Toji finally pulls his gaze away from you to look at him and if looks could kill, this guy would be dead and no one would know where to find his body. Apparently thinking better of it, your date turns tail and leaves, stomping angrily away from the two of you.

“What’d he do to deserve a slap like that, doll?”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain you, Toji…” you rub at your temples, a habit you’ve had for as long as he can remember, “but thank you… for your help.”

“I’m always here for you,” he frowns, hurt to think you don’t know that, don’t know that he’s always, always here for you. “I don’t want you thinking–”

You raise a hand, interrupting his sentence, “Stop… stop saying the things I wish you’d said while we were married.”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” you’re clearly hesitant at his ask but he needs to tell you how he feels, tell you so that you understand, “Please.”

Tentative expression on your face but a low sigh letting him know you’re about to cave, “Fine but after this… you need to really try to move on, we can’t keep doing this song and dance.”

He doesn’t answer, not willing to agree to something he couldn’t possibly do. Your eyes close for a moment before blinking back open, head shaking at him but you don’t push him.

Toji’s place is closer but he doesn’t want you in such a shitty neighbourhood at night so you both go back to your house, the house you once shared. While inside, he can’t help himself and he’s snooping, looking for changes to the place and aside from all the things he took with him when he left, it’s much the same.

Walking down the hall only to get caught on your wedding photo, still on the wall. The hope he has at the sight of it doesn’t feel fair, doesn’t feel fair because he doesn’t know if it’s false hope or not.

Your voice from behind him pulls him from his thoughts, “Do you want some tea or something?”

“No,” he pats the top of your head a couple times like he used to do so often, “no, I’m alright.”

“…Then let’s go to the living room,” head nodding in the direction.

It’s quiet for a few moments, neither of you knowing where to start or who should speak first. Toji supposes he should since he’s the one who basically begged to be able to talk to you.

“I know I let you down during our marriage but I need you to know that I always loved you – I still love you, so much.”

Your gaze avoids his and he knows it’s because you’re emotional, eyes looking upwards as you fight to stop yourself from crying, “Is that all?”

“Not even close,” he moves closer to you on the couch, his hands reaching for you and cradling your face, forcing eye contact, “I neglected you and for that I’m so fucking sorry.” Thumb wiping away a stray tear, “I love you.”

“I don’t want to forgive you,” lower lip wobbling, “if I forgive you, you might do it again or you might actually stop loving me and then what? And then I have to go through all of this again?”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you firmly, “I won’t stop loving you,” face pressing into the top of your head, nuzzling you, “won’t ever fuck up like that again, let me love you properly this time.”

You’re sniffling against his shirt, calming yourself first before answering him. Only doing so when you’ve collected yourself, parting from him enough to look into his eyes when you say, “Fine but I’m not marrying you again until you earn it.”

He can’t help himself, lips on yours and kissing you deeply, so elated at another chance that he couldn’t hold back. His tongue licking into your mouth and savouring the taste of you, he’d missed this so bad; the little noises you make, the way you nearly go limp in his arms, so weak for his kisses.

It’s rushed because of how desperate he is, hands moving to feel you up, groping your body needily. A huffed whine leaving you makes him groan, lips trailing down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin.

“Doll, I need you,” he’s basically pleading, he’s missed you so much though, borderline touch starved.

“Okay–” gasping when he bites at your shoulder, “the room, Toji–”

He grunts back at you, annoyed that he has to stop but picking you up and walking down the hall to your room all the same, you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little fingers right now.

Dropping you unceremoniously onto the bed, causing you to bounce with the weight of it. Toji takes a moment to eye you up, trying to decide what he wants to do first, ultimately choosing to undress you.

“Toji, slow down–”

“–No,” it’s growled back, hands tugging your clothes off until you’re naked, “I’ll do you slow another time.”

So quick he drops to his knees, mouthing up the insides of your thighs. Normally he’d tease you, make you shaky and desperate for it but he’s in no position to play with you, already so desperate himself. Blowing gently onto your cunt just once before licking obscenely up the length of it, his spine shuddering at how sweet you taste, delighting in how you jolt and whine under his mouth.

You’re already so wet and leaking so insistently for him, he’s all too happy to lap at you. Chuckling darkly when your fingers tug at his hair and you whine frustratedly, wanting so much more from him.

“What do you want?”

Pouting back at him, “You know what I want”

Feigning ignorance just so he can hear you say it, so he can hear you ask for it, “Sorry, doll. It’s been a while; you have to remind me.”

“Inside,” you murmur out, all timid.

“Hmm?” he hums, like he didn’t hear you perfectly clearly. Going back to licking and sucking on your pussy, tongue flicking at your clit so cruelly.

“Toji~” you mewl, “inside– hah– I want you inside.”

His cock is aching, twitching in his pants at how pathetic you sound for him – for your ex-husbands dick. Feeling a little evil, he slides his tongue inside you, lewd slurping sounds leaving him as he fucks your hole with his tongue. Giving you what you wanted, filling you, just not with what you wanted.

Your back arching pitifully, moans tumbling from your lips so sinfully sweet that his hips jerk upwards, searching for some way to relieve himself. Hard dick rubbing against the zipper of his jeans, no doubt a wet spot forming through the material where the tip of him rests. Nuzzling into your cunt more, swallowing down the honeyed taste of you and moaning unashamed at it.

He feels insane just about now, in love with you, in love with your sweet pussy. Eyes heavy on you as he watches all of your little reactions, just knowing you’re close, your thighs fighting to close. His hands keep you spread wide, always getting a little extra joy and arousal out of your embarrassment.

Tongue leaving your tight heat only to be replaced with two of his thick fingers, opening you up so indecently. Mouth latching onto your clit, tongue flicking at it over and over, digits rubbing against your walls just how he knows you like. He wants you to cum before he fucks you, always so much wetter and hotter around him once you do. He wants it so bad, the memory enough to make him salivate, drooling onto your cunt.

Broken whines leaving you, “Hah– Toji– hnn– I’m close– I– ah!–”

Your walls flutter so delicate and enticing around his fingers, pulling him in deeper, clinging to him. Soft hum leaving him, acknowledging your words, it’s just his luck that the vibrations add to your pleasure. Legs kicking out as you come undone for him, all shaky and blissed out as your pussy tries to milk his fingers, wishing for something else entirely.

Toji’s brain feels like it’s melting, all gooey and obsessed with you when you’re like this. Helping you through your orgasm and trying his best to ignore the way his cock feels so heavy and hard in his pants.

When you whimper and push at his head lightly, he pulls back. His fingers withdrawing from your snug cunt, all coated in your cum. Without really thinking, like a man possessed, he shoves his fingers into his mouth. It’s filthy how he licks and sucks on them, cleaning them of your essence.

“Toji, stop being a pervert,” your words hold little weight when you still look so turned on and ready to be fucked by him.

He grins at you, standing to his full height, “You ready to remember the shape of me?”

You’re so gorgeous, all splayed out and blinking soft up at him, eyes dazed and twinkling from your orgasm, “Please?”

“Anything for my pretty, little wife,” he undresses for you.

Your eyes track him as he does but you also correct him, “Ex-wife.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed over top of you, “Anything for my pretty, little, ex-wife.”

“I missed you a lot,” leaning up to him so your lips brush against his skin.

The words and your gentle touch send a shiver through him, precum dripping from the tip of his cock onto your skin. “I missed you too, doll, so much.”

Lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, all messy and tangled tongues. Kissing you properly, like he may never get to again, cause he almost didn’t get to. Not even parting when he positions himself at your entrance, slowly splitting you open with his cock. Damn near whining into your mouth, pushing the pathetic sound down, trying to keep control.

Eventually pulling away from the kiss just so he can watch you suck in his dick, biting his lip in what looks like a snarl as he slides inside. Appreciating how your pussy bulges around him so lewdly, barely halfway and looking so fucking stuffed.

He’s taken by surprise when your legs wrap around him and pull him in until his hips are flush to you, balls deep inside you all at once making him moan. Walls clingy and so fucking creamy soft, his cock swallowed up so greedily by your loving cunt. Brain fuzzy as he focuses on not cumming too soon.

It’s hard to keep that focus when you’re grinding up into him, pulsing hot and snug around him. Apparently just as touch starved as he’d been, a desperation in your need that he finds himself loving and understanding.

“Calm down,” his hand trails up your leg, from your hip to your knee, “I’ll fuck you good and proper.”

Gritting back at him, “Then do it.”

“Anything you say, doll.”

Hauling your legs up from under your knees, folding you in half and using his weight to hold you there. His laugh is a little cruel when you whinge up at him, brows pulled together as your mouth drops open.

His head right by yours with how he’s pressing into you, nipping the tip of your ear before he asks, “You ready for it?”

A little shaky under him but so certain when you nod back, “Give– hnn– it to me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles slightly, hips pulling back, cock dragging from your walls and then fucking back inside you so quick that the air leaves your lungs.

Toji’s head is spinning, your pussy really fucking missed him, hugging him so tight. So perfectly wet and needy that he’s going insane, having you writhing under him while he fucks you stupid.

“Are ya’ enjoying this?” he asks, angled thrusts hitting against your cervix, “You like getting fucked by your ex-husband?”

“Mhm,” nodding deliriously at him, too out of your mind with pleasure to bite back at him.

It’s cute, how you’re falling apart from just a few heavy thrusts, already fucked dumb and he’s just getting started.

“I can tell,” The sloppy wet sounds of your pussy filling the room making him so smug, “pretty cunt sounds so fucking happy to take me.”

“Don’t– ah!– don’t talk like that– hnn–”

Your protests mean absolutely nothing when your pussy betrays just how much you enjoyed his words, grin wicked on his face at how meek it sounded. “Aw I’m sorry, doll. Want me to be sweeter? Nicer maybe?”

“Yes– hng–” nails clawing into his back, the pleasure too overwhelming.

“Your pussy was made for me– hah–” he groans softly, “wrapped so warm and inviting around my cock.”

“That’s not– hnn–” moans shaky on your breath, “that’s not what I meant.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, “Was what I meant though.”

Opening your mouth to argue a little more only to be stopped when his thrusts get suddenly much more precise, hitting the same spot over and over and over, entirely on purpose. He knows what it does to you, he loves what it does to you. Relishing in the pitiful and broken moans leaving you, your cunt that much tighter around him, almost milking him.

Oh, you’re falling apart so perfectly under him, he’s not even sure you realise you’re cumming. Pulsing around him and whining desperately, it’s depraved and turning him on so much more. He fucks you through it, not daring to slow his pace, helping you enjoy and ride out your high.

Toji plans on playing with you for longer, have you cumming for him again, holding off on his own orgasm. At least that was his plan before you – in your cock drunk state – started muttering out, “I– hnn– missed you so so much, Toji. Love you– hng– love you, I love you, I l– ah!–”

He genuinely can’t help the effect your words have on him, cock jerking deep inside your cunt before he’s cumming. Rope after rope of his seed filling you so completely that it’s leaking out around the base of him. Deep moans vibrating his chest, eyes shut tight as he steadily rocks his hips into you.

Unable to stop himself, still grinding and rocking into you over and over. His cum making a mess out of the both of you and the bed, something you’ll chew him out for once you’ve exited your stupor.

When he does eventually stop, he keeps your legs folded up to your chest while he pulls out. A depraved and perverted desire to watch how his cock leaves your cunt, hole looking lonely while not stuffed full of him. His semen dribbling from you and down your ass, it’s turning him on again but you’re too out of it for another round right now.

Careful with how he lowers your legs back onto the mattress, moving to your side and pulling you to him. Both your chests pressed together, his fingers delicately trailing up and down your arm.

You’re drifting in and out of sleep when he promises you, “I’ll treat you so much better this time,” he doesn’t mind if you heard it or not because he’s going to prove it to you every day with his actions.

𝒂.𝒏. i was in the middle of writing a drabble and did that thing where i accidentally added too much plot and then it turned into a mini fic... I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT THOUGH❕���� it's a little different from my usual stuff teehee

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[demie90s]

10 Thing I hate About You

Azzi Fudd x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Everyone loves Azzi. She’s sunshine, discipline, pure gold with a jumper. And you? You’re the complete opposite.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Slow burn, tension, opposites attract, lowkey dom!reader, soft!Azzi

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Language, light emotional manipulation, reader is emotionally unavailable, Azzi is too kind for her own good

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~ 0.8k

ᴠɪʙᴇ: “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you’d let me hurt you.”

I told her no. Flat. Immediate. Cold as hell.

“No, absolutely not. She’s a sweetheart, I’m not. It’s not happening. Next.”

But of course, my best friend doesn’t listen. She never does. That’s how I ended up in a damn group FaceTime call with half the women’s team, holding a Gatorade like it was vodka, staring at the screen like how did we get here?

“You’re already on the call,” she’d said, grinning. “Might as well go all in.”

Nope. No thank you. Not interested in pretending I care about anyone’s love life but my own—which, by the way, doesn’t exist, because people are loud, messy, and too obsessed with eye contact. Then she drops the setup.

“I can’t go for Jada unless her girl Azzi’s best friend is… occupied.”

And I blinked.

“The fuck that gotta do with me?”

“You. Azzi. A little flirting. A few practices. Maybe a date. Just enough to keep her chill.”

So I scoffed. Rolled my eyes. But then she hit me with that look—the one that says I took care of you when you were blackout in Vegas and I have the photos to prove it.

So I gave in. Like an idiot.

⸻

I’d never actually met Azzi. Heard of her? Obviously. Everyone talks about her like she’s some walking miracle—grades, game, smile that can stop a war. Whatever. I assumed she was soft. Not my type. Definitely not worth pretending for.

But then I saw her. And I knew I was in trouble.

She was standing by the vending machine, soft curls pulled up, UConn shirt half-tucked, biting the inside of her cheek like she was concentrating way too hard on which granola bar to get. And something in me just… stopped.

Like my mouth. My lungs. My attitude. Froze. I hate when people move like sunlight. It makes me twitchy. And Azzi? She radiated.

I walked up, cleared my throat. “You gonna stare at those all day or can I help you make a life-altering decision?”

She turned.

Big brown eyes. Shy smile. “I’m trying to pick the one that won’t taste like cardboard.” I swear to God, I felt my knees crack.

“I mean,” I said, trying to be cool, “you’re already eating cardboard. Might as well get the one with chocolate chips and trauma.”

She laughed. She laughed. And I swear I forgot how to stand for a second.

“You’re… funny,” she said, tilting her head. “What’s your name again?”

And I folded. Me. The girl who told someone last week to “turn around and try that sentence again without wasting my time.” I folded so fast I’m still mad about it.

“Y/N,” I muttered. “I don’t really do… this.”

“Talk to people?” she teased.

I blinked. “Smile. Or flirt.”

“Well,” she said, taking her granola bar and biting into it like she wasn’t making my life harder, “you’re doing okay so far.”

And just like that, I knew this wasn’t going to be a one-week mission. This girl was gonna ruin me.

———

I was supposed to flirt.

That’s it. Just flirt. Smile a little. Throw in a wink. Maybe sit near her during study hall and make her laugh with some dry-ass commentary about the substitute teacher’s wig. Light work. Harmless.

Day one went fine. She laughed at my joke, complimented my hoodie, and I didn’t pass out. Even managed to open the door for her without making it weird. Thought, okay, cool. I can do this. Be charming. Be chill.

Day two? All downhill.

I caught myself walking across campus in the heat, just because I knew she had a class on the far side and might be passing by. Who the fuck am I? I don’t walk for people. I don’t even walk for me.

Then she waved. Said my name like it tasted good in her mouth. I smiled so hard my jaw hurt. Had to look away before I blew my own cover.

“You’re falling for her,” my dumbass best friend said, sipping her iced coffee like she wasn’t the mastermind behind this entire operation.

“I am not,” I snapped. “I just… like her face. And her voice. And her dumb laugh. And the way she says thank you like it’s personal.”

“So everything?”

“I will fight you.”

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no.

Wednesday, I left a snack on her locker. Just slid it in, casual. No name. But she walked into class ten minutes later holding it and looking right at me. Bit her bottom lip. Smiled.

I almost threw my chair. My friend saw me gripping the table and just whispered, “You’re cooked.”

I was.

Because that night I found myself pacing my room, trying to figure out if I should send her a playlist or if that’s “too much.” Then I remembered I don’t even text people back. What the fuck is happening to me?

By Thursday, I was wearing cologne. Real cologne. Not the body spray I use to mask the gym. I said “have a good practice” when she walked by me at lunch. Have a good practice. WHO AM I???

“You’re in love,” my friend said, smug as hell.

“I’m gonna stab you.”

“You should sing to her.”

“What—”

“Like Patrick did. Get a mic. Public embarrassment. Peak rom-com. Go big.”

“I hate you.”

“But you like her.”

I didn’t respond. Because I was already thinking about what song I’d use.

———

I don’t even remember saying yes.

One second, I was telling my best friend to shut up and mind her own dating business, and the next, I was standing in the quad with a microphone in my hand and Katrina and the Waves blaring through the speaker like I was possessed.

The sun was out. People were filming. And I was about to commit emotional suicide.

“She’s here,” my friend stage-whispered behind me, already doing dumbass backup dancer moves like we weren’t about to become a meme.

I scanned the courtyard and spotted her instantly—Azzi. Hair up. Hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. Laughing at something one of her teammates said.

Completely unaware she was about to be ambushed by the mean girl who’s been sending her anonymous protein bars and pretending it wasn’t a big deal.

I took a breath. Grabbed the mic. Looked her dead in the eye.

“Hey, Azzi,” I said. “Still don’t believe me? Watch this.”

Then the music hit.

“I’m walking on sunshine—WHOA OH!”

And I fucking committed.

I was singing. Dancing. Spinning in circles. Grabbing roses from random ass freshmen and tossing them at her like I was running for prom queen. My friend was behind me doing air guitar. Some dude in the back started clapping on beat. It was humiliating.

It was perfect. Azzi just stared at first—confused, blushing, hands over her mouth like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then she started laughing. Not just polite giggling. Laughing.

And that’s when I knew I’d won. I ran up to her at the last chorus, out of breath, sweaty, and full of shame, and dropped to one knee with a single flower in my hand.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever liked enough to publicly humiliate myself for,” I said.

She blinked. Then she smiled. And then she wrapped her arms around me—tight, warm, all in, like I was the safest thing in the whole damn school.

Right there. In front of everyone. And I swear to God, the crowd cheered.

[like-butterflies-and-glitter]

i crave to be loved so badly but i am so scared of it, maybe even find myself undeserving or not capable of receiving it,

i wrote a self insert character who gets into a relationship with a character who loves so entirely with such devotion and yet find myself unable to write a story where that character does love my s/i enough, the way he has loved other characters in the past. what the hell is that about?

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when the strongest sorcerer, satoru gojo, meets your strongest period mood swings?

a/n: i teared up writing this. i wish men—real, emotionally available, period-bath-running boyfriends—were real.

you don’t know why you’re crying. again. maybe because the blanket slipped off your shoulder or because the strawberries he cut for you weren’t sweet enough or because the stupid commercial on tv had a puppy in it. whatever the reason, your bottom lip wobbles and you sniffle, clutching the heat pack tighter against your abdomen.

satoru is there in a heartbeat. not because he knows what to do—oh no, he’s scrambling. since this morning when you woke up groaning like a medieval knight struck down in battle, he’s been in full red-alert panic mode. he googled “how to handle girlfriend on period” three times, made a list, burned it, then cried a little in the hallway before gathering the courage to come back in. he even called shoko for backup, only to be met with unhelpful laughter and a “good luck, loverboy.”

now he’s crouched in front of the couch like he’s about to disarm a bomb, blue eyes wide behind his stupidly expensive sunglasses that are now pushed messily into his silvery hair. his lips are pursed like he’s concentrating very hard, but the little twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays his anxiety.

“operation: spoiled princess is officially in action,” he declares, voice light but eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read the weather. his large hands cradle your cheeks with a gentleness that doesn’t match his usual chaos, thumbs brushing under your eyes like he can physically wipe the emotion away. “what’s wrong, baby? want me to punch the strawberries? i’ll do it. don’t test me.”

your nose scrunches, and despite the tears welling again, a soggy laugh escapes you. “you’re so dumb.”

“and yet so handsome. it’s really unfair to everyone else,” he sighs dramatically. his long legs fold awkwardly as he plops down beside you, then tugs you into his lap like you’re made of glass. your face smushes against the soft cotton of his long-sleeved tee, which smells like laundry detergent and a hint of something sugary—probably from the chocolate he was sneak-eating earlier.

five seconds later, your mood shifts again.

“why would you say that?” your voice rises, sharp. you pull back, brows furrowed. “are you saying other people want you? is that it? am i just some girl to you?”

satoru freezes like someone hit pause on him. “huh? what—no! what are you talking about? i just—i meant it like—baby, no, don’t cry again—”

“i’m not crying because of you,” you snap, already blinking back tears. your arms wrap tighter around your stomach. “i just… i feel gross and my stomach hurts and i hate everyone and nothing helps.”

“okay! okay,” he says quickly, hands held up like he’s facing a wild beast. his tone drops to something soft, coaxing. he leans in, his bangs falling a little into his eyes. “you hate everyone. but not me, right? please don’t hate me, i’ll literally explode.”

you glare. “depends. did you eat the last cookie or not.”

he blinks once. twice. “…i—what? baby, this is not the time for interrogation—”

“answer the question, toru.”

“…no comment.”

you narrow your eyes, pinch his side. he yelps like a kicked puppy.

“okay! okay! i did but i didn’t know it was the last one—wait, don’t look at me like that, please, i’m too young to die—”

satoru’s voice cracks just a little, and he sounds genuinely distressed now. the kind of pitiful panic that only comes from being accused by the person he loves most. “you don’t really hate me, right?” he blurts, blinking rapidly as if he could force an answer out of you by sheer will. “like… not actually? you’re just—y’know—period mad? not ‘i want to leave you and never look back’ mad?”

you sniff, pouting at him with narrowed eyes. the silence stretches just enough to make him squirm. he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, eyes darting from yours to the pillow, to your hand still fisted in his shirt.

“because if you did, i think i’d just crawl into the washing machine and set it to spin cycle,” he mumbles, only half joking. “you’d forget all about me, but the spin cycle wouldn’t forget.”

you break. again. this time with a teary snort of laughter. your face buries into his neck, the tip of your nose brushing his warm skin as your shoulders tremble with exhausted giggles.

he exhales like a man who’s just been handed a stay of execution. his arms wind tighter around you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish.

“i got you chocolate,” he whispers hastily, like it’s penance. “and those terrible chips you like. and i prepped a warm bath with the glittery bomb thingy you keep hoarding. also, i may have threatened the delivery guy to get here faster. i said i was a government official. please don’t report me.”

he tries to kiss your forehead, but you shove his face away with a palm.

“you smell like cheap cologne. did you use that stupid body spray again?”

satoru reels back, wounded. “excuse me, this is top-tier scent! the internet called it ‘irresistible alpha energy.’”

“more like teenage boy in a locker room.”

“wow,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. his thumb rubs slow circles into your back, his gaze flicking down to your fingers still tangled in his shirt.

finally, you lift your head, your eyes glassy but no longer stormy. your features soften—still tired, but laced with reluctant affection. satoru looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

“you’re the worst,” you whisper.

his grin is crooked, too relieved to be smug. “and you still don’t hate me. noted.”

he bumps his nose against yours, then gently tugs you closer. “c’mon. bath time for my temperamental goddess. i even lit the dumb candle that smells like a bakery.”

he stands, scooping you up with more care than coordination. you press your forehead to his jaw, soaking in the familiar comfort of his scent—minus the cologne.

“your skin glows with divine light… your aura purifies the air… i am but a lowly servant in the temple of your beauty…” he chants dramatically. he slips on your fuzzy socks halfway to the bathroom and nearly eats it, but catches himself just in time, shouting your name like he’s about to perish.

even if he’s overwhelmed, mildly traumatized, and definitely confused by the chaos that is your period mood swings, satoru gojo is nothing if not yours.

[xlettex]

You’d never slept over before. Not for lack of trying—he’s invited you a few times now, usually in that whirlwind, fast-talking, Bokuto way: “You should stay! I’ll make popcorn! We can watch that terrible space movie you love—wait, not terrible, just… objectively confusing!”

And eventually, you said yes. You’re newly dating, still figuring each other out. Still brushing pinkies under the table, pretending not to smile when he calls you his favorite distraction, and marveling at how easily he can light up a room. Last night was nice. Messy and real. He made you laugh so hard you snorted water out of your nose. You fell asleep curled around his arm, warm and stupidly happy.

You wake up expecting him to be gone. You’ve heard the stories—how Bokuto’s up with the sun, always the first at the gym, how he “accidentally” does 200 push-ups before breakfast because he couldn’t sit still. So when you stir around 9:47 a.m. and find him still beside you, wrapped in blankets and very much not at the gym, you blink in quiet confusion.

And when you try to sit up?

He groans. Loud and pitiful. Then immediately rolls toward you, snaking an arm around your waist, and slumps half his weight on top of you. “Don’t,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.

“…Don’t what?” you whisper.

His face is in your neck, voice muffled and petulant. “Don’t leave. Too early.”

You laugh under your breath. “It’s basically ten.”

“I’m not emotionally ready for ten.”

You freeze a little, startled by how different this is from what you imagined. No bouncing. No bright energy. No dramatic grin. Just a sleepy man-child melting into you like the mattress is quicksand.

“Aren’t… you a morning person?” you say cautiously.

He groans again. “I am,” he mumbles, “just not when you’re here. You ruin everything.”

"Wow. Thanks."

“No, I mean… you’re warm. And you smell good. And your shoulder’s soft. And the bed feels better with you in it. So now I’m clingy and helpless. Congrats.”

You turn your head, just enough to glimpse his expression—eyes closed, brows drawn, nose scrunched into your skin as if he’s memorizing it.

“I was gonna make coffee,” you murmur.

“Betrayal.”

“You didn’t seem like the clingy type,” you tease, trying (and failing) to pry yourself from his arms.

He only holds you tighter, tugging you closer until your back is flush to his chest. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone. “You weren’t supposed to find out on the first sleepover.”

You go still. It’s the first sleepover. This was supposed to be casual, a night of snacks and movie reruns while trying not to overthink anything. But this? You weren’t prepared for this.

You clear your throat, flustered. “I could… come back after coffee?”

“No."

You laugh, helpless. “Koutarou—”

He silences you with a gentle touch, turning you toward him until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is soft now—quieter than before, careful. “Just five more minutes.”

Then he kisses you. Soft and slow, not wanting to startle you. But when you don’t pull away—when your breath catches and your fingers curl instinctively into his shirt—he deepens it. His hand finds the small of your back, drawing you in, needing you closer. There’s no such thing as close enough. He’s still half-asleep, but he’s fully sure of this—of you. 

When his lips leave yours, he says nothing. He just buries his face in your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist. 

You lie there, stunned—lips tingling, the warmth of the kiss still clinging to your skin. Your fingers find his hair, brushing through the tangled, sleep-ruined strands without thinking. His breathing slows. His weight settles against you, easing something deep in your chest.

And even though your brain is buzzing and your heart is screaming, this is really happening—you somehow manage a soft response. “…Okay. Five more minutes.”

(You don’t leave for another hour and a half.)

[emmyrosee]

“Hey,” you whisper, interrupting the moving droning on the tv. “You wanna fight?”

It’s boring in the apartment, the rain having washed out any prior date ideas you two had thrown around. Life outside is completely silenced from the cold droplets of water. You’d been cuddling on the couch for the past three hours, one random movie starting and ending, only to be followed with another one that Eijiro can’t bring himself to care about.

But hey. You’re cute. And you’re looking at him with mischief in your eyes. Might as well indulge you.

“Emotionally or physically?”

Eijiro’s never been the kind to take your negative bait, though he adores your positive ones; he’s always been able to read you like a book, keeping tabs on when you’re feeling playful or when something is truly bothering you, when you’re hungry or truly annoyed, and despite reading the novel time and time again, it’s one he continues to see through every day.

And right now, based on the cheeky look you’re giving him, he knows you’re too playful for your own good.

You gently knock your head against his, as if trying to provoke him in the cutest way possible, “I dunno; are you always this clueless?”

Physical.

He smirks, bringing a mammoth hand to cup the back of your neck, squeezing the meat of it gently, “I don’t know; you’re the one who agreed to date me.”

“What a mistake,” you scoff.

And yes, Eijiro likes to try and make you work for his attention when you’re feeling playful, he likes the little whines and pawing you send his way, the way you smother his face in non-penetrating bites and rough squishes of his cheeks with obscene and absurd words about how cute he is.

But sometimes, his hands hooking under your arms is plenty, as he forces you down onto the couch. Occasionally, the playful, fake punches he delivers to your laughing tummy do just the trick.

“You’re! So! Mean! To me!” He grunts between each gentle, barely connective tap. “Why!”

“Because!” You giggle, batting away his hands. You grip your hands over his and use all your strength to force his hands back away from you. Eijiro knows he could just as easily overwhelm you with his strength, but you look so happy to fight him off that he can’t bring himself to.

You send one push his way, barely strong enough to move him, but he humors you anyway and takes a tumble backwards, thick back hitting the cushions with a soft noise. With no waste of time, you climb on top of him and gather his wrists in your hands, pinning them on either side of his head.

“Now what?” He asks.

You smirk and lean down to press a noisy kiss to his nose, “mwah!”

He smiles and puckers his lips out for one on his lips, but you merely press one to his cheek, “mwah!”

“Babe-“

Then you move to his brow bone, “mwah!”

“Kiss me!”

“I am-“ you press a kiss to his chin, “mwah!”

He laughs and tries to intercept your kisses, moving his head side to side to try and catch them, but you merely dodge him. Every sticky kiss you press to his face, you accompany with a dramatic “mwah!” he groans with a few chuckles at the anguish of not being able to kiss you.

“Mercy!” He calls. “I’ll die if you don’t give me a real kiss. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

This has you pondering, jutting out your lower lip in thought before sighing dramatically, “no, I wouldn’t. Guess I like you or something.” You lean down to kiss his lips, and letting go of his hands when he gently tugs at them; you mewl as they wrap around you, relaxing you to lay on his chest and cuddling close as you part. "I really do like you, Eiji."

"You wanna know what's crazy?" He asks, and when you nod, he gently grabs your chin to look at him, "I really love you."

You blow him a kiss which he pretends to chomp the air to eat, dramatically swallowing while you giggle up at him.

He noses as your head before letting his eyes close, resting up for your next bout of playfulness.

[chanranghaeys]

🎼 complementary wavelengths

Wouldn’t falling in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the research study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

pairing: university professor!vernon x high school teacher!fem!reader word count: 2.8k+ genre: fluff for valentine’s day! rating: g tags: non-idol au, distant college friends to ???, first love :(, they both grew up!, we stan emotionally healthy MEN in here warnings: i claim no accuracy on the academic process because i am not a teacher and no accuracy on the mathematics and scientific concepts here because i am absolutely not a mathematician or a scientist

a/n: surprise lexi @heechwe, i’m your secret cupid! a huge thanks to jupiter @ddeonghwa-s for hosting this secret cupid valentine’s event! it took A WHILE for me to churn this out but we persist and bounce back to writing! a very very special thanks to kae @ylangelegy for beta reading! and to @svtreverie, @choitcherryanne, and k for being my forever hypegirls mwa mwa

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“So, Ms. Y/L/N, do you have a Valentine's date already?”

You roll your eyes for what must be the millionth time. “For the last time, this is grounds for unbecoming conduct, young lady.”

“I’m just saying!” Your student Sofia laughs. “You deserve to have a good Valentine’s Day this year.”

“Since when have you played matchmaker for me, Ms. Chwe?”

“Since we saw you crying in the school parking lot,” Sofia’s best friend Meena chimed in supportively. Come on, Ms. Y/L/N. You can’t expect us to sit around and do nothing.”

“Especially not for our favorite Maths teacher!”

You shake your head at these two high schoolers. You knew you couldn’t play favorites amongst your students, but these two and their stubbornly infectious energy sparked a little of your youth back in you. Plus, you really couldn’t blame them because they were right about that school parking lot incident.

It was after this brunch date went terribly wrong a few weeks ago. And while it was very unbecoming of a teacher for her students to find her squat and sobbing against her car, these two were like guardian angels that took you under their wings and brought you ice cream and were girl’s girls all the way—as if they weren’t almost a whole decade younger than you.

Since then, Sofia and Meena would secretly try to find you a potential Valentine’s date amongst teachers, guardians, single parents, older siblings, school staff, or anyone at this point. They were wholly invested—and not just because you were the best teacher they’ve ever had in their very subjective opinion.

From afar, you see a familiar figure leaning against his car, signature plain white tee with jeans underneath his selected outerwear of the day—this time, it was a black denim jacket with a matching Yankees cap.

You've noticed him for a while now, dropping by a few days a week. You've thought about approaching him several times as well, but you always stopped this impulse. However, today was different.

“Sofia, would you mind calling over your brother here for a second?”

“What is this about?” Sofia had her eyebrow raised. Despite her age, it was hard not to take her seriously given that you were both standing at the same height.

“You know what this is about. He told me that you gave him my email address.”

A look of understanding lit in Sofia’s eyes. “Ah, that thing. Yeah, gimme a second.”

Meena stayed behind to continue the line of questioning. “So what’s that thing?”

“It’s a post-grad thing of sorts. Don’t mind it, you have enough schoolwork on your head to be thinking about this.”

She just chuckled in return. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I remind you that Sofia’s brother is single, handsome, respectful, decent, and smart. You can see why I personally have a vested interest in this thing already.”

“Meena.”

She heard your tone shift and straightened herself. It was a subtle reminder that she was still your student and that you were still her teacher.

“I’m just stating facts,” she said with a shrug and a quieter tone.

Sofia’s distant voice calling out for her friend caught both of your attention. At the same time, you see the figure in black and white walking toward you in his confident and deliberate strides.

“I’ll go ahead Ms. Y/L/N. See you tomorrow! And good luck on the thing,” Meena said with a smile and a wave. When she passes the figure, she does a slight bow out of respect, which he reciprocates. This exchange quirks up the corner of your lips. You recall what Meena said earlier, and it prods at you with an irk of frustration.

It frustrates you that she’s right.

When he finally stood before you with a smile, a flood of memories came crashing back. Suddenly, you’re back on your college campus standing underneath your favorite tree, a girl in front of a boy.

“I got your email, Professor Chwe. It’s been a while.”

“It has been a while Ms. Y/L/N.”

You chuckle at your monikers. Who knew two scruffy college students would turn out to be respectful academicians? “Formalities aside, it’s so nice to hear from you again Vernon.”

“Likewise.”

“I see the teaching gig in university hasn’t changed your sense of casual style.”

Vernon looks you up and down in your sensible collared button-up and slacks ensemble. You completely ignore the growing flutters in your stomach. “I can see that this high school has changed yours.”

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. The kids actually like my sense of style, mind you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed Sofia starting to wear blazers all of a sudden. I never thought that it’d be you I’d blame for that.”

You feel something in your chest, a sudden churn and an unexpected leap. As a teacher, you’ve mastered your emotions enough to mask your face into one that wouldn’t give everything away. But these primal emotions were almost too much to bear.

Is this what it really feels like to face your first love after so many years apart?

“Anyway,” you continue as a means to deflect before anything else gives away your true feelings. “You emailed me about your dissertation? You really didn’t give much away. And you know you could’ve just sent me a message.”

“Oh, yeah!” Vernon nods vigorously in emphasis of your statement. “I need someone good in applied mathematics.”

“And you need me for that because?”

He blinks at you. “Because you are good at applied mathematics. I want your help for my musicology dissertation.”

You let out a sigh of disbelief. “Vernon, I—”

“And don’t you dare say you’re not good,” he insists with his finger pointed at you. “I’ve read your research papers. I don’t even know why you stay teaching in high school. You could’ve been tenured by now. Or on a sabbatical like me.”

He’s read my research papers? So he’s been following my work? You shake your head to clear these unnecessary thoughts, which are immediately replaced by a sense of uncertainty. “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy these coming months…”

You really didn’t know why you were avoiding it. This was the perfect academic opportunity and you had no idea why you were avoiding it.

Okay, scratch that. You knew exactly why—because of him.

“No problem, we’ll be able to pace the progress. Besides,” he continued, “you’ve always been my study buddy. I know we’ll be really good partners for this one.”

With one sentence, he has almost reduced you to a blushing schoolgirl with a huge crush.

Oh wait, weren’t you one already?

But still, you couldn’t resist stoking the flame that had been sparked inside you. So you ask, “Why me? Were there no other worthy research partners in your esteemed university?”

“Nope. I choose you,” he answered with a lopsided smirk. “I think you’ll understand why when you hear what my dissertation is about.”

“What is it about?”

“Do you wanna go out for coffee?”

“What?”

“What?” Vernon said in more of a statement than a question.

“What does coffee have anything to do with this?”

“Unless you want to keep standing here with your students watching us, I think it’s better if we continue this discussion somewhere else.”

You peer over his shoulder to see Sofia and Meena watching the two of you from the car like hawks, ready to catch any significant interaction that might give away what you two were talking about. When you met their line of sight, they were ready to bring their phones up to feign their disinterest.

“There’s a cafe on the next street over. If you’d like to go there…”

“Nice,” he said cooly, his voice low and sure.

He lifted his phone to his ear. From your peripheral vision, you see his sister raise her own phone in response. It was almost comical how you could see their silent reactions from across the courtyard, with Meena vibrating with excitement and slapping the other girl’s arm as you hear Sofia’s voice trying to sound calm through the speaker of Vernon’s phone. You see them hurriedly lowering the car window and lifting their thumbs up toward your direction.

They seem to think they have finally succeeded. You wouldn’t give them that benefit yet.

When he hung up, Vernon addressed your confused look. “Sofia’s been annoying me about getting the car anyway, so they can have it. Let’s walk?”

It was silent at first. The early afternoon sun cooperated with the cool breeze, setting the atmosphere for a nice leisurely walk. Students and office workers were milling around the nearby commercial strip, with the sounds and conversations all mingling in the background.

It had been years since you last spent time together like this, in an environment not too different from this one. After your study sessions in the library, you two walked together to your shared classes, which by some stroke of luck always seemed to happen for at least one class every semester until you graduated.

You both hung in different circles. He hung around with his fellow music majors in band practices and the college’s musicians organization, while you spent the majority of your time with your mathematics batchmates in the library or the school quad, catching up on problem sets and homework before you needed to make it to your choir’s rehearsals at night.

But when you ended up as seatmates in your first semester, you made a comment on the Bach piece he was listening to, how Bach was actually a pretty mathematical composer. He asked you how you knew that.

You said, “I take mathematics. I needed a cool fun fact for introductions.”

From that moment on, Vernon took it upon himself to make you appreciate how mathematical Bach’s pieces were. Music became your common language amongst everything else in the background, and the rest was history.

“Okay,” you began, “You know that we haven’t really spoken to each other since graduation. So…why choose me? Not that I’m complaining, though! I’m just…shocked, I guess. And confused. Because if you’ve read my research, you’d know that it’s been years since I published anything.”

Throughout your rambling, Vernon simply looked at you. When you finally stop, you notice the clear brown of them looking straight into you. It had been years, but they were the same eyes that looked at you, that listened intently when you were explaining a complex math concept.

It had been years, but that almost unblinking gaze of his still made your heart do unexplainable leaps in your chest.

You broke away from the intensity of his gaze. He took this as a cue to answer your question. “I was looking for research papers to help me form my framework. Then I stumbled on your computations of metered wavelengths and frequencies, and their relation to different kinds of sound.”

That paper. “Oh.”

His lips turned up in the corners when he continued. “I suddenly remembered how we randomly theorized this during one of our study sessions. I couldn’t believe you actually turned it into your master's thesis.”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course. I never thought I’d find someone so in tune with me and my random theories.”

“If you’ve read the paper, you’ll know that it wasn’t a random theory at all. You might just have discovered the makings of a postulate as a college sophomore.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your mind making sense of it. You really are the brightest of your batch.”

You scoff at the remark. “We’re not in college anymore, Vernon. There are a lot of other bright minds out there.”

“None quite like yours, I’m sure.”

You reach the cafe and order in—a decaf iced americano for you, and a hot chocolate for him. As soon as you two get seated, he finally launches into an animated discussion of his dissertation topic about discovering the medical applications of using the various sound wavelengths from certain types and compositions of music to aid in both the operation and healing process of a person, with the goal of identifying a singular formula to determine the right wavelength for each medical situation. He had his medical experts, all he needed was his mathematician.

It was a lot to digest, to say the least.

But by the end of it all, you were in awe of both Vernon and his mind. He is smart. He’d always been smart, but it felt like the confines of university and immaturity bounded his full potential. Now that he’s seen and explored the world of academia, he was able to finally showcase how bright of a mind he really is.

“Can I tell you something?” You set down your coffee and leaned forward.

As if second nature, he mirrored your action to the tee. “Shoot.”

“I’m proud of you. Really. You used to be this mysteriously awkward guy in college who just played around with guitars and 808s. But I always knew you’d put that big brain of yours to good use.”

He opens his mouth as if in reply, but stops midway and just smiles and scrunches his nose. After a beat, he nods with a look of quiet decision. “Can I tell you something, then?” He asks, worrying his thumb with his other hand as he looks at you. You nod in response.

“It was you that inspired me to be this version of myself. Because you can’t only be smart, you also have to work hard. None of my friends back then had that mindset, then came you.”

“What are study buddies for, yeah?” You raise your fist in front of you. He looks at it and smiles his trademark gummy smile. In return, he bumps his own fist into yours, reminiscent of how you two would check in on each other during extended hours in the library finishing a project or a paper. A fist bump to make the heads bump, you two used to say.

Instead of lowering his fist after, he holds it there flush against yours. “Would it be weird for me to say that it’s honestly more than that?”

“What do you mean?”

He took in a deep breath and let out an exhale just as deep. “When I read your papers, I remembered everything we went through in uni and I just…kinda fell in love with your brain again, I guess. Even until now, you—and your work—inspired me to just do it. Then you started popping up everywhere in my life again and…I remembered how I did kinda fall in love with everything else about you. I was just too young and chicken to see it before.”

It took you a whole minute to find your voice again because how could he be this nonchalant? “You’re really just here dropping all these truth bombs without any warning, huh?”

“Like you said, we’re not in college anymore. I’d rather say it now than never.” Vernon’s smile is a shy one, hidden behind his hot chocolate cup. You can’t believe it took a dissertation paper for anyone’s feelings to be revealed—much less his.

As your mind reels with Vernon’s revelation, you scramble your brains to come up with a lighthearted retort. “So are you still kinda in love with me? Just so I know what and how we’re working on this project.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think you’re doing any better. Don’t think I don’t see you staring whenever I fetch Sofia from school.”

You gape at his reply. “How do you even know where to look for me?”

“You’re her last teacher of the day and you both leave the school at the same time. I told you. You just came barging into my life again unannounced, and it wasn’t even your fault. You just sort of…fell in there.”

A smug look took over your features, one you really couldn’t help after hearing all that he had to say. “Vernon Chwe, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were so down bad for me.”

“For that whip-smart brain and that adorable smile, maybe—theoretically—astronomically and catastrophically down bad even.”

You fight the heat rising to your cheeks—and fail. After a cough to hide your growing embarrassment, you say, “I think we’re done for the day.”

“Sure. So. Same time tomorrow?”

You were about to answer when you suddenly realized, “Vernon, it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Don’t you have any other plans?”

He shakes his head and looks you straight in the eye as he says, “Just you. If you say yes.”

Wouldn’t falling further in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

[vampyastro]

✧𝕬𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘✧

~𝖕𝖙 𝟜~

Things I say may not resonate with you as everyone’s birth chart is very different and impacts them in different ways. I am not a professional astrologer, these are just some observations I’ve made over the years dealing with different placements. Hope you enjoy!

✩ Gemini moons are full of contradictions! They tend to always contradict what they say because their minds can be so crowded and overwhelmed. They also like to learn many things and their tendency to overthink/the multiple different perspectives they see can lead them to change their minds often. However, this isn’t always a bad thing because it allows them to be very open minded and always willing to listen to others ideas.

✩ When a Scorpio mars gets mad, it can feel as though all hell might break loose. The anger these natives bottle up inside of them and eventually release can be very scary.

✩ Having Libra and Cancer placements can make natives the biggest people pleasers and it can be very distressing for them. Saying ‘no’ isn’t going to end the world and it won’t make people hate you, I promise. You are more than enough! Have a bit more confidence in yourself, people are very drawn to your loving nature and there is so much good in your heart. Don’t let yourself get taken advantage of when people try to prey on your weakness, you’re better than that.

✩ Leo Venus nativesmay love theater and art. They like to express themselves and they shine while doing so! Their passion is radiant and they have beautiful souls. They are capable of so much love and they channel that into their art.

✩ Cancer mars can be a difficult placement to have. They feel emotions very deeply and intensely. They have a tendency to be natural caregivers; very empathetic souls. This can cause them to be in fear of hurting other peoples feelings and have their emotions bottled up until one day it all pours out. This can be very cathartic for them but also distressing. Strong feelings of jealousy and yearning can be seen with this placement. To all the cancer mars out there, just know we appreciate how tender your nature is! Don’t be so scared of things, you will be fine! (Side note, cancer mars reminds me a lot of mitski songs)

✩ Pluto in the second house can have deep self esteem issues. They may place their worth on their possessions as they feel they aren’t enough and due to the transformation powers of this placement, their income may be unstable. This leads an internal struggle between trying to fulfill the soul and placing less worth on what they have around them.

✩ Prominent virgo placements can sometimes be super overbearing. These people may need to double check everything and have a hard time relaxing. They can struggle with anxiety and can have control issues. In turn this can also make the native unhealthily retreat into their own minds as an escape from what they feel is chaos. Virgos, you’re doing great. Sometimes it’s good to take a deep breath and live in the moment.

✩ Aquarius placements (especially Sun and Venus) as well as Cancer placements are very good gift givers. Aquarius placements always come up with creative ideas that the person receiving usually loves! On the other hand, cancer placements value sentimental gifts. They may look for something that will touch you emotionally or it may be something they would cherish if they were the one receiving the gift.

✩ Capricorn risings really like to take the initiative! They can be the one in group projects to assign everyone roles and make outlines for the group. They like to seem responsible and dependable and they very much are!

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰! *:･ﾟ✧

𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 ♡

[mintedwitcher]

Heyyy! I’ve been reading some of your asks and you always give really well thought out responses so I thought I’d ask a question that I’ve been attacked for asking elsewhere!

I think you’re a fan of Tommy (?) I’m just curious what it is about him you like? Everytime I ask Tommy fans they get really defensive (which I get, as there are a lot of people who hate him and attack his fans) but I genuinely have no opinion on him.

I do have to say I’m definitely more partial to buddie when it comes to shipping (although I honestly am indifferent to whether or not they end up together) but this isn’t really a question related to buddie vs bucktommy.

I genuinely just don’t understand why people are so in love with Tommy’s character by himself when he has like 10 minutes of screen time, are people just fans of the ship? Does the actor have a big following idk about? Is a lot of it people who don’t like buddie, and just like Tommy out of spite?

I’d like to say I come from an indifferent perspective as I’m not actually active in the 9-1-1 fandom (I didn’t know it had a fandom until the network switch lol!) and am more of just a weekly watcher. So I was super surprised when he had such a huge following! To me personally he just felt like a good plot device to do stuff no one in the main cast was able (fly a helicopter and kiss buck lol).

I hope none of this sounds rude I honestly mean no hate to any fans of Tommy or Bucktommy!!!

I've been putting off answering this all day, I'm sorry.

First things first, let me be very clear. The reason Tommy fans get defensive when you ask why we like him is because you're using the same phrases as the people who have sent us death threats, CSA fics, and suicide bait for over a year. We have listened to those people endlessly claim that Tommy is "just a plot device" or that "he only has ten minutes of screen time" or that "people only like him because they hate Eddie". Just as you've done in this ask.

Now, I'm not saying you're one of those people, but you should be able to understand why we get so defensive after spending a year having to defend ourselves from the very worst of fandom.

With that out of the way, let me also add that I do not speak for anyone but myself in the rest of this post. So here's why I like him:

Tommy is funny. He has that dry, snarky sense of humour that appeals to me, as someone with the same type. His sarcasm and dry wit is enjoyable, and it's a good counterbalance to Buck's optimism. He's not a cynic, though. He's realistic, having lived a full life and learned that every action has its consequences.

Tommy is smart. He knows his own expectations and boundaries, and knows when and how to enforce them. He's intuitive. He's thoughtful. He chooses to take care of the people he loves, and gives his all to the task every time. He's resourceful, with a range of knowledge and the skills to back it up. He's not boastful, but confident in himself and his abilities. He's respectful and respected, both professionally and personally.

Tommy is kind. He, like Buck, is a fixer. He's mature enough to know, however, when there's something he can't fix; he sticks around all the same, though. He understands the importance of a support network, because he didn't have one. He wants for others something better than what he had, even though he might be envious or jealous of them having it when he couldn't. He's patient, knowing that discovering oneself is a long process, and one that can't be rushed without sacrificing safety, security, or happiness. He's willing to let himself be hurt in order to prevent others from feeling it.

Tommy is strong. Not just physically, but emotionally. He understands himself on a level that speaks to years of dedicated introspection and work. He's careful, not just with his words but with his actions. He's grounded, with a stable sense of self and an understanding of where he fits in the world. He's flawed, but he's learned from his mistakes and done everything in his power to atone for them. He's guarded, understanding his own weak spots and how to protect them.

Tommy is gentle. His size, stature, age, and blatant masculinity are all carefully considered when he engages with others. He knows when and how to soften his voice, to lower his shoulders, to make himself less intimidating, because he knows there are people who will make a snap decision about him based on how he presents. He knows exactly the image he projects, and he knows when it's safe to change that perception. He's thoughtful, again, of other people's comfort.

Tommy is selfish. He'll break his own heart now to spare himself the pain later. He's scared, because the life he's lived has taught him never to expect good things without the bad. He's a bitch, letting his face speak volumes even when he's completely silent. He's afraid of commitment. He desperately wants commitment. He's jealous. He's petty. He's lonely. He's alone, and doesn't want to be.

Tommy is so many things. He has experienced a hard life, but he hasn't let that life harden him. He puts his heart into everything he does, even though he guards it far more readily than Buck does. He values friendship, loyalty, and trust. He'll go to hell and back again, gladly, if it means protecting someone he cares about. He'll break the rules, the law, if it means someone he cares about can be saved.

He is a complicated, flawed, and deeply intriguing character. He is a study in contradiction. He is proof that anyone can change, if they just want to.

And none of this even touches on why I like him with Buck in particular, but that'll be another post, I think.

You might read all of this and ask yourself, where am I getting all of this? How can a character with only "ten minutes of screen time" provide this much? And to that, I would have to say, you haven't paid attention. He is a plot device, just as all characters are in a work of fiction, but his story is more than just his lines on screen. We met him first in the Begins episodes, where we watched as he evolved in the background. Sure, most people didn't pay attention then, either, but with his reintroduction, that evolution was cemented into canon.

What you need to understand, nonnie, is that a show like this is never going to hold your hand and tell you all of the character notes. They're shown to you, through character interactions and context clues. We know from Chimney Begins that Tommy and Chim became friends. We know from Hen Begins that Hen inspired Tommy. We know from Bobby Begins Again that Tommy made amends with both of them, and were friendly enough that they often went out drinking together after work. We know from Capsized that Tommy is still close enough with them both that Chimney still has Tommy's personal number, and that Hen still trusts him enough not to fight him even though he could blow the lid on her entire stealth attempt. We know from the rest of season seven and early season eight that Tommy desperately wants a family.

Everything that I've mentioned above is extrapolated from canon. Every character interaction, every line, every microexpression, every hint of body language, all of it. I analyse media for fun, and Tommy is by far one of my favourite characters to analyse.

That's why I like him. He's Tommy. It's really that simple.

[fiahtheteaaddict]

The Overthinker and the Overexplainer

This is for the people who overthink everything and feel like they will never truly be loved. Trust me I feel the same, more times than I care to admit. Also mentions of anxiety, which is something I struggle a lot with. This was very self indulgent. Not super proud of this but I hope you enjoy regardless!! 🫶🏽

F!Reader x Xaden Riorson

Content warning: mentions of anxiety and overthinking (js a quick note. This is only how part of my issue with overthinking and how my anxiety is. It’s part of MY experience with both). Insecurities and being self conscious (ig those are warnings too idk?) do lmk if there are any others that you see that I have missed!!

Word count: 1636

He does love you, you know. Says your dragon Gealach.

I know he does, trust me. You reply.

Do you? Should I?

I do and you should. You say, confidence slightly wavering. Gealach caught on instantly, she always does.

She snorts. Sure.

Although you and Xaden have been together for a while now, you still feel like some part of you is unlovable. You feel insane because you know that the man practically worships you. But you really can’t help yourself. 

You feel like you are too much to handle. Both personality wise and emotionally. You feel like you constantly need reassurance and that it must be driving Xaden away. You feel like you’re too loud and just overall too much. No matter how much he reassures you that he loves every fibre of your being with no end, you still feel like you are lacking. It’s like a pit in your stomach that nothing can fix. Xaden doesn’t fail to make you feel loved, he doesn’t do anything to make you doubt his love for you, you just feel… like you’re too much to handle. And you’re scared that it will soon drive him away. That he will get sick of you, albeit he doesn’t know you feel this way exactly. He does know something is up, and is constantly reassuring you, but your scared that one day he’ll get tired of it and it’ll have been your fault for driving him away

You are not driving him away little star

I feel like I am

Well you’re not

You let out a small huff at your dragon's insistence as you turn to look back to look at Xaden and make eye contact. He gives you a small smile. You wouldn't notice it if you didn't know him, if you didn’t truly know him. But you did. You could read him like an open book, even if he denies it with all his being. You give him a small smile before turning back around.

I'm not good enough for him.

He is not good enough for you, my little star. 

You say that all the time.

Because it is true, you are perfect… and he is, well, him.

You let out a small laugh before focusing on your meal once again.

“Gealach?” Violet asks. “Yeah. She’s talking shit about Xaden, as always.” You giggle. Violet lets out a laugh before shaking her head. “Does she like anyone that isn't you?” “I don't think so to be honest.” You both continue to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Rhiannon asks as she sits down next to Violet, Ridoc taking his usual seat next to you as he nods “Having fun without us I see, Rhi they hate us. I’m being replaced by Vi and you're being replaced by ___.” 

Ever the dramatic one.

“Dramatic much Ridoc?” You laugh at his antics, echoing your dragon's thoughts. “I'm heart broken, I have been replaced.” “Don’t worry, I still love you.” 

“She loves me, guys!” he exclaims loudly, an instant shift in his demeanor. Heads turn at how loud he shouted, and you put your head down on the table in embarrassment as he shakes your shoulders. “I am loved! Oh I have never been this happy.”

You can feel Xadens eyes on you as you turn ever so slightly to make eye contact with him. He has a small grin on his face as he watches you and Ridoc. If anyone knows your dynamic with Ridoc it’s Xaden. Ridoc is like your little brother, he’s as annoying as one and also happens to be shorter than you, which you never let him live down. 

You turn around and continue to talk to your group, feeling Xaden watchful eye on you the whole time. 

And you doubt his love for you. Gealach says as she lets out a huff. 

You know why I have all these doubts. 

I know my little star. I know. And I will be here to reassure you that you deserve every bit of love that comes your way. Even though the brooding one may not be my first choice for you. His undying love for you is as clear as day. 

Your heart swells at your dragons words. Warmth filling every crevice of your body. 

You are loved. Wanted. Cared about. Needed. 

Ridoc voice pulls you out of your thoughts as he calls your name “Everything okay?” “Yeah… just got lost in my thoughts is all.”

The whole group looked skeptical in regards to what you had said but continued on with the conversation anyways. But you still felt Xadens eyes on the back of your head.

He heard Ridoc. You know he did. He could tell something was up, he always knew when something was up, one of your least favourite things about him. 

Xadens POV:

I can tell by the look on her face that something is wrong. And I know she knows that I can tell. What is it that’s bothering her? Did someone say something? Do something? Is she hurt? Did I do something?

Thoughts swirl through and around my head like a tornado. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Garricks voice interrupts my thoughts. “Huh? Nothing. Just thinking.” “About? You're practically eyeing down ___. Did you guys fight or something?” “No no. Just some things off with her. I just don’t know what.” “Talk to her. Your shit when it comes to communication, but somehow she’s even worse.” “It’s her anxiety. She overthinks too much.” “Reminds me of someone.” Garrick says as he lets out a huff. I simply ignore him and think about my girl and what could possibly be wrong.

Sgaeyl

Let me guess, talk to Gealach?

Please?

For that girl, anything

If there is one thing that has shocked me to my core it is that Sgaeyl actually likes __. She hates everyone, only tolerates people, but her… gods, she actually likes her.

She is good for you, just as you are for her.

Update from Gealach?

It would be best for you to talk to her.

Is something wrong?

She has been… thinking too much again. 

Your POV:

You had made your way back to your room once you felt your anxiety start sparking up again. Thoughts started to flood into your mind. Not just thoughts about whether you were good enough for Xaden, but if you were even a good person. If you were annoying, too loud, too emotional. 

Gods what is wrong with me

Breath little star

It hurts

I know, and I am here, I always will be. I will never leave your side, no matter what. I am here to stay. Now breathe. In and out, slow breaths.

And breathe you do. If there is anyone who can calm you down it is your dragon. The one who is constantly in your head. The one who knows you better than anyone else. Nobody gets you like she does. Not one soul. Unfortunately not even Xaden. You would never let him know about these thoughts. You knew that he had an inkling towards your overthinking, but he didn't know what it was about. Your dragon would never betray your trust like that. You were one in the same, almost. Minus the fact that you weren't a fire breathing dragon who didn't have the bad habit of overthinking and terrible anxiety. 

*Knock Knock*

You knew who it was, you had told Vi, Rhi, Ridoc, and Sawyer who eventually joined you guys that you were going to take a nap, that your head was hurting, it wasn't like you had any classes today. It was one of those rare days where you were all off. Which were some of the worst for you. You didn't have anything to distract you from overthinking and going into an anxious frenzy. Each of them knew however that there was more to it then you were letting on. But they also knew that you wouldn't budge if they were to pry. They tried that once and it simply ended in you ignoring them for a week till they all cornered you and told you they were sorry and didn't mean to invade, they were simply worried. Although you were pissed you talked it all out and managed to set boundaries. Clear and well respected boundaries. You would go to them when you were ready, when forced to speak about your emotions you shut down. When you are being pushed while you are going through something you snap, but you don't lash out, you step back and shut down. You simply need a minute to calm down and collect your thoughts, then you make the decision to go to people. 

They didn’t know that, and you don’t blame them. But you set the boundaries and luckily they have been very well respected. Once you feel like you can talk without having a full breakdown you will go to them, it just isn’t now. 

You make your way to the door slowly, knowing the conversation you were about to have with Xaden was going to be… something.

You open the door slowly. “Hey love, you left early. You okay?” Xaden says as he takes a step forward and you move to the side to allow him into your room. “Yeah I'm uh… okay.” “Talk to me, I know you’ve been overthinking again, so let me overexplain. Talk to me, love.”

Want a part 2?

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hi bunny hihi 🔥🔥🔥 Imagine teenage mom!reader crocheting or knitting some clothes for teenage dad!sam and vinnie for fun since she likes giving gifts to the people she loves, and with them accompanying her to shop for yarn or materials for her various hobbies from time to time 😭😭❤️❤️❤️

(I just need some fluff rn 💔💔💔)

- 💀

PAIRING: sam monroe x pregnant!reader

FLUFF ❦

author's note: awwwww missed you 💀 nonnie!! Hope you like it :)

SAM MONROE. A teenage dad who had never thought he’d know the different types of yarn. He always thought they were the same. But since dating you, his very skilled girlfriend, yeah...he suddenly found out some yarns are more fluffy, some arent good enough to knitt them, some are just ugly cheap. Never thought he’d stand in a craft store, rocking a sleepy Vinnie strapped to his chest in the baby carrier, while you debated the exact shade of “buttermilk yellow” or “eggshell cream.” to pick

Yet here he was.

“Babe,” he muttered, leaning over to whisper in your ear like he was kind of afraid of people listening to whatever he would say “they all look the same.”

You rolled your eyes and held up two nearly identical skeins. “They’re not. This one’s softer. Feel it.”

Sam blinked. “It’s yarn.”

“Just feel it, Monroe.”

He groaned but reached out and pet the skein like it was a small animal. And yeah… okay. It was kinda soft. Maybe even nice. Vinnie made a small huffy sound in his sleep. Chubbt cheek squishing even more into his father's chest. Sam automatically bounced him a little. “He’s gonna end up wrapped in a whole-ass blanket, huh?”

“No,” you smiled, holding up another ball of blue yarn. “He’s getting a little bear hat. You are getting a scarf. And maybe socks. If you behave.” a smirk tugged at your lips

Sam’s cheeks flushed faintly at the words hitting his ears. He swallowed hard, almost feeling exposed, emotionally naked before you as he let his hard mask slip off. But he tried to play it cool. “Whatever. I guess I could wear your weird yarn stuff. For the baby. Or..whatever.”

———

Vinnie’s all cute and giggly. It was all full-body, snorty little baby giggles that made his round cheeks puff and his eyes squeeze shut, tiny legs go kick-kick-kick like he couldn't physically contain the joy he felt right now.

And all because of the dumbest, cutest thing.

His little knitted bear hat.

You’d spent hours on it. Picked the softest brown yarn, stitched two tiny ears that stuck up just a little crooked, and sewed on a little face with sleepy eyes and a stitched nose. It was barely holding together, kinda lopsided, but God did Vinnie love it. His pudgy hands clapped against each other, proudly showing off his positive emotions.

Sam was sitting on the floor, leaning back on his palms, watching it all go down with that look. The one he swears isn’t a smile but totally is. You knew him too well. And well, you caught him too easily.

“You’re not safe,” you whispered as you crept behind him.

“What?”

You plopped the matching hat right onto his head.

He froze. “What is this.”

You bit your lip. “A matching bear hat. For the big bear.”

Sam groaned. “No. Absolutely not. I am not—”

“BAHH!!” Vinnie squealed, spotting Sam’s headgear. The baby waddled straight to him, arms in the air out of pure excitement, before collapsing on Sam’s lap with a breathless laugh. Those pudgy fingers clutched at the edge of his hat like it was the best thing he’d ever gotten. Which, for you, was the truth

“Okay. Fine,” he muttered, fingers adjusting the ear flap so it sat more even. “But no one better see this.”

You didn’t care, really. Quickly your hands grabbed your phone, unlocking it, before snapping at least ten pictures and sending it to Sam's mother

Vinnie babbled happily against Sam’s chest, still clutching the matching bear hat like it was gold. Sam rolled his eyes. “He likes it too much. You’re setting him up to be weird, y’know that?”

You kissed Sam's cheek, your arm wrapping over his shoulder. “He’s got you as a dad. I think I’ve already accepted his fate.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[searchingforserendipity25]

actually no, the best lawrellini conclave post-canon/au concept i can summon rn is innocent iv attempting to very earnestly match-make his dean of the college and secretary of state.

breaking their vows Would be a sin but considering the byzantine methods they are deploying to avoid being anywhere near each other inside the smallest city state in the world is:

an unnecessary complication to the new pope's ongoing mission to Make Empathic Changes For Good (Intersectional Version), which is going full steam ahead, with the sort of dedication a man who lives life expecting to be assassinated still, and means to make every day count.

oh, they're professional, of course; but poor monsignor o'malley is left trotting up and down the apostolic palace to share messages between their offices, because they refuse to text for post-conclave paranoia reasons (bellini) and because the expectation of replying in a digital format is a psychological torture for the emotionally-repressed luddite (lawrence). poor ray does not complain, but he has confessed to the pope his ankles aren't what they used to be.

they are old men, they are kind and very capable men. breaking their vows is a sin, of course. but to live is to sin inevitably. wasting good love into discomfort is far worse, vincent benítez thinks. they have to talk it out, at least. if he is to trust them to salvage something worthwhile out of the church, he has to believe they can salvage something true out of their friendship.

just kinda sad at this point, honestly.

the thing is. well the thing is. there is no polite way to tell the supreme pontiff you and your bestie already tried the secret romance thing once. and it didn't take.

they had their friends-to-secret-lovers, their shared office, their upstate drives with autumn leaves rusting and good music on the radio.

desperate embraces in the confessional of the new york cathedral. brushing hands and long glances that turned to long pining that turned to a summer of forbidden romance, turned to the anxiety of hiding their relationship to the world.

the rush of joy turned to unsustainable amounts of guilt, the longer it went on. misunderstandings, really: a lot of assumptions without communication. more resentment than either of them wanted to have for each other. the love was there, a great deal of it, but it was far from enough, when it put into question the work they were doing.

twenty years, give or take, since they last kissed in the pantry of a food kitchen in brooklyn, and put an end to the thing between them. they had their sad break up, their ex-lovers-to-friends again arc.

aldo went to paris, lawrence went to rome: they wrote, sometimes. called, met during conferences, meetings, conclaves.

the late holy pope's managed to get them to stop avoiding each other and get their shit together to pull off his own liberal win election years ago. they're fine now; they're good, they're okay. genuinely, mostly.

twenty years. recent events had made clear how much there was still to be understood between them, but they'd recognize each other's breathing in the dark anywhere. innocent xiv had managed to get them in the same confessional, on false and well-intentioned pretenses.

'it is sweet, really.' aldo says, trying to straighten his cassock, trying for wry irony, trying not to guess at the familiar profile, near enough to touch. 'are you going to tell him, or am i.'

'later,' thomas says. he swallows. it would be the easiest thing in the world, to press a hand against the grid of the partition, to pull it back, tug apart the curtains; for the curve of his adam's apple to move against aldo's palm. 'i'll explain it all.'

aldo snorts. 'maybe not all of it, if you please,' and it is enough to make lawrence quirk his mouth. the quality of the air between them alters, just enough for the closeness not to feel too suffocating.

there's nothing to be told, really. nothing to fix. only a misunderstanding. there is no way to explain the distance is not spite or shame, it is just distance. the measure of grace they give each other, now, after spending too long secluded together.

self-protection, yes; but also kindness going both ways. there is nothing to be talked out. there hasn't been anything to talk about for twenty years. if they give it enough time and enough turns of the rosary, one day that will even be true, god willing.

their eyes adapt to the gloom quickly. this part has never been difficult.

it would be the easiest thing. moving in the dark, pressing close, quieting gasping breaths with a mouth or a hand. he tilts his cheek, brushes the evening's stubble against aldo's. lightly, so it does not leave a mark - he has felt the phantom-sense of it before, he always does when they sit near.

the thing is, the confessional is closed from the outside.

but they are, after all, the secretary of state, the dean of the college of cardinals. between the two of them, they have enough master keys to open anything in the palace from the inside out, if either of them truly wanted to get out.

[genderqueerdykes]

hey anon saying "my abuser was a trans man so trans men hate trans women" I just want you to know I'm a transmasc person who was literally abused horrifically on the basis of sharing a similar pronoun and gender identity to my then-girlfriend's ex. she used the abuse of an entirely unrelated person as an excuse to insinuate I never respected her and would regularly scream at me and even invalidated my trauma over a relative dying using her own trauma.

she also, unsurprisingly, was a rampant transandrophobe, calling me horrible and transmisogynistic because I challenged her as a trans woman over saying blatantly transphobic things about trans men and transmascs (myself included).

because it was never about truth, it was about being on top and being the most inconvenienced and being in control of the conversation of suffering (this went beyond us fighting over my gender).

think why you feel that way, that you need sole dictation over the conversation and can't let anyone else breathe their words about experiences that may challenge how you feel, anon

if I were to do what she did, and say I was uncomfortable with trans women because they can be abusive, I would rightfully be ripped limb from limb for the transmisogynistic notion that trans women are remotely a monolith or are abusive based solely on my experience

but I guess trans men aren't owed that same equivalence. they are forced to live a double standard there. because you don't respect us enough for it. why is that.

"because it was never about truth, it was about being on top and being the most inconvenienced and being in control of the conversation of suffering,"

"if I were to do what she did, and say I was uncomfortable with trans women because they can be abusive, I would rightfully be ripped limb from limb for the transmisogynistic notion that trans women are remotely a monolith or are abusive based solely on my experience"

i had to highlight these bits in particulare because good god you worded this so perfectly. i am so sorry you have had this experience but you knocked the ball so far out of the park that i am genuinely in awe of how well you conveyed this, and how absolutely fucked peoples' double standards are when it comes to abuse and how people think that trans men and mascs have it "so much easier in life". you're dead on the money. NONE of this has to do with talking about oppression and looking out for one another.

this behavior is about control.

it's about controlling the narrative. some people literally get so insecure when the conversation turns away from them for even a moment, they think it means that everyone is their enemy. yes, trans women have an absolutely awful time in cisheternormative society. so do trans men.

i have been emotionally and sexually abused and harassed by 3 separate trans women. one of which struck me with an object, another who stole something out of my purse while i was asleep and continuously kept trying to get in my pants after she found out i had a vagina despite me repeatedly turning her down, and another who mocked me for my psychotic episodes and repeatedly swore up and down that i didn't have DID and just in general gaslit and emotionally abused the fuck out of me. the woman who hit me also constantly kept insinuating that penises are what make a man a man, and would not stop making me feel bad for not having a biopenis.

once everyone found out i had a vag, suddenly, i was a cishet woman in their house and i was public enemy #1. i had to deal with my cis gay male roommate shrieking about how he's gay, boobs and vaginas are disgusting, he's a MAN attracted to MEN. meanwhile, my ex girlfriend (the one who hit me) made me feel like shit for being a man without a penis almost every single day. she would guilt trip me about how she missed being with partners with biopenises and would spend all day telling me that she loved me, but then would turn around and scream and yell at me and tell me that i'm an evil asshole.

the transandrophobia i have had to deal with at the hands of other trans women has been absolutely fucking staggering. we need to stop fostering a culture where this is okay because it's genuinely getting people hurt. like you said, if a transmasc were to say "i hate trans women, they're all mean and shitty and abusive," they would literally be torn limb from fucking limb. and rightfully so, because it's a dogshit thing to say. but we HAVE to start telling people who do this to trans men to fuck OFF and stop it.

i am very sorry you went through that. i hope things improve for you, and that you're able to spend time in company that treats you with respect. nobody should have to deal with literal profiling just because of their gender.

is that what we're doing now? profiling people based off of their gender? how is that progressive? how is that liberating? how is that trans rights? it ain't.

[raingems-blog]

Oh doctor my doctor

Summary: Having a wife with hemokenesis has its benefits; you have a personal doctor on hand.

Warnings: afab reader, mentions of blood, mentions of smut, period mention, mention of bad eating habits (not eating)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Being married to Victoria Neuman had its benefits, for one, the security that she provided both emotionally and financially was nothing short of astounding. She was grounding, a woman who could calm a storm with the right words and a couple of well placed touches, soothing any concerns or anxieties that plagued your mind. With Victoria, you've never had to worry about whether she loved you. She showed it constantly and consistently, going out of her way to make it known that you were more than just loved. That you were treasured and appreciated. You've never had to worry about a bill, a note, or the price of anything you've laid your eyes on. If you wanted it, she'd get it for you, no questions asked. You were well taken care of, not to mention she came with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed daughter who was the light of both of your worlds. Safe to say, the life that you had built with Victoria was nothing short of secure.

The other benefit included her hemokenesis. Victoria could tell when you were sick before you could and would immediately circumvent it before it had the chance to as so much as make you cough or sneeze. Forget to track your period date? No problem, she was more accurate than any app. Clocking the rising and falling levels of estrogen coursing through your body like clockwork and adjusting her behavior accordingly, knowing that she'd need to give you extra loving during that time.

"Hey babe when is-"

"Next week Friday." She answered without so much as missing a beat. Your favorite treats and meals were already pre-ordered before you could even blink, and products stashed for the date. She'd even help alleviate cramps when she could and would indicate when you'd need to change your preferred method of product.

Other times, you'd feel a skip in your heartbeat and immediately assume your time has come, much to her mild amusement.

"Am I having a-"

"Heart attack? No, love, it's a heart palpation. You're not dying." She answered before you could even finish the sentence. Frankly, you've asked many a question a few times before over the course of your marriage and knew exactly what you'd say. Sometimes, you'd wonder if she was a mind reader too, which resulted in such conversations as:

"What am I thinking of right now?"

"My love," She'd say with a sigh. "I don't know, I'm not a mind reader."

"Right we'll how did you know know what I was going to say?"

"Because you've asked me that a few times before."

"Oh...... I'm still watching you."

Victoria also had the ability to know if you've eaten or not. The way your blood sugar levels would drop when you had gone without eating was enough for her to chide you while ordering your favorite meal as she reminded you of the importance of a good hearty meal.

Other times, she could tell when you were stressed, tired, irritated. When your cortisol levels were high, she'd draw you a bath, put on your favorite show, and give you all the affection that you needed as well as giving you a safe space to vent when you needed it.

Her favorite, however, was when you were turned on or in the mood. One minute you'd be talking, and the next she'd have you tangled in the sheets, panting and moaning, using the very hormones traveling through your system to bring you to ecstacy time and time again. Paying extra attention to the way your body would react to her touch.

In a crowded room, the flurry of different heartbeats would sometimes overwhelm her, but the very distinct sound of your own would always cut through the noise, blocking it all out, save for yours. She loved to listen to the steady rhythm as it beat in your chest. It was a reminder that you were alive. The sound of your blood rushing through your veins was a comfort to her, the way your heart rate would pick up when she'd kiss you, talk to you, hell even look at you. The rush of oxytocin that she'd sense every time you were near her would only melt her further, causing her heart to flutter and her face to flush as she looked at you softly with those brown eyes that you've lost yourself in so many times before.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You would ask softly.

"Because I love you." She replied back. The intensity of the look would be enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too."

"I know."

[varpusvaras]

Winnick will come this close to writing a good, rightfullly angry character with BPD/CPTSD and ruin it by making him his conception of "a dangerous psychopath" because dc's understanding of mental illness begins and ends with the joker.

I like that Jason was angry i'm not gonna lie I enjoy the "bad victim who doesn't accept that they were a necessary sacrifice, who doesn't think what happened to them is something they should be expected to tolerate, like fuck your greater good, you weren't there, it isn't worth this." I think even looking at Jason's past before getting adopted he has reason to be angry, like he is poor af and starving and he had to take care of his mom and his dad is in jail because he couldn't see another way to provide and he gets trafficked -he has so many reasons to be angry. And he's not, and I love jaybin, but I think there are so many ways and things he can be angry about without it feeling classist. And I love that he can't emotionally regulate, that he has so clearly BPD/CPTSD because why the fuck would he not, have you seen his life (and that's not even counting the csa hc, which i am because willfully and consistently implying csa and then not addressing it/denying it feels like feeding into a culture of taboo that ruins lives and getting away with covert victim-blaming at the same time). The issue is that they lack finesse or any kind of understanding of anger. The think anger is a personality trait. They think angry = evil. They think being angry means you're violent at and about everything, that you shoot indiscriminately even though you've known better since you were a kid, that you're suddenly treating women like shit (which, wtf seriously) which okay maybe THEY treat women shitty for no reason when they're angry, but that'd be more of a them problem I'd say. Their portrayal of anger is classist because their conception of emotions hasn't evolved since fucking Descartes. Think anger = bad = poor and not only doesn't it occur to them that this is classist, they so instinctively assign moral value to the concepts of poor and angry that they don't realise it and just conceptualise poor=angry and end up with incredibly classist portrayals of anger. You can write characters that are mentally ill and violent without being ableist, you can write characters that are poor and angry without being classist, but that requires a level of respect for people, introspection, humility willingness to learn about the sensitive topics you are exploring that is simply not accessible to Winnick and so many other dc writers.

And here comes my very hot take that I'm too cowardly to say off anon: the pit shouldn't have healed Jason's malnutrition. Like, outside of canon I love big jay, I love big men who are emotionally vulnerable and need comfort etc. but in canon? It just comes off as another way to adultify Jason, and make the horrible things that happen to him acceptable. Jason "sleeping with Talia because he is fucked up about Bruce" because they both look like adults until you realise this is actually just rape and you can't put any responsibility of Talia taking advantage of the kid under her care (very ooc of course) on the child himself. Jason fighting Mia looking like a 40 years old beating up a teenage girl when they're the same damn age. Fucking Ethiopia 2.0. And Jason's murders as well, for the matter. Like don't get me wrong the duffle bag of doom is an iconic villain move, but it's just that: a massive shock effect and a "psychopathic" move. We shouldn't need Jason beheading anyone to be horrified, because just one murder, if written correctly, should be enough. A child killing someone is a terrible thing. A child being put in a position where they think killing someone is the only solution to ending suffering (thinking about the Garzonas case) is a terrible thing. A kid trying to kill his murderer (because fuck his death has to matter it has to) and only begging to be allowed it should be horrifying. Jason, with his unhealed malnutrition making him look a couple of years smaller and younger than his physical age, should look his mental age. It should be impossible to look away from the reality of what he is: a traumatized teenager who wasn't allowed to grow up. And he has a gun. This is already a horror story.

Make utrh!Jason a villain if you must, but have the guts to sit with it. Don't shove the fact that he was a hero and a victim under the rug because it's uncomfortable. Sit with the unease that sometimes someone is doing something bad and is suffering a lot, and maybe they're doing the bad thing because they don't know how to survive the suffering, and suddenly it's not easy separating hero from villain from victim. Your imaginary lines in the sand will not protect you from the crude reality of the complicated and shitty situations you have chosen to depict; you open the can of worms now you can't look away and let the worms roam free just because you're squeamish.

How does it feel to be psychic and be in my head and write part of my essay on Jason for me? Fuck, I have so much to say about this but I need a good night of sleep to formulate it correctly. Look for a longer answer tomorrow, but in the meantime, everyone sit down and look at this and look at it hard. Thank you.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello! First of all I wanted to say that damn I love your fics, they give me so much gender euphoria and are so validating. Second, I understand if you feel unconfortable with this request but how do you think Homelander would react to reader's self harm scars? Since he's basically a god, I wouldn't be suprised by how a "fragile little creature" like a human could do this and why.

John Gillman/Homelander x male reader

Headcanons

idk why i chose this gif, he just looks so cute here.

I ignore how in canon hed probably be a horrible guy about it. I am a firm fanon believer.

In the beginning I don’t even really think John would register that his lover has self-harm scars, since it’s never something he’s thought about himself. I imagine he’s had self-harming thoughts before sure, but never cutting himself since nothing can cut through him.

Hes probably tried to hurt himself one way or another, since he isn’t really the best place mentally, or when he thinks he isn’t doing good enough and whatnot.

But at first it doesn’t really click for him, since he’s so unused to seeing scars since he has none himself. It would probably take John longer than he would like to admit for it all to make sense, and it would be after you got comfortable enough to go around in short sleeves.

Maybe you think he’s just always known, since he’s got x-ray vision and all that, so he must have known from the beginning, right? And he just never said anything about it. yeah, not really.

He will act like that’s how it all went, because there’s no way Johns gonna admit that he didn’t notice something so important, no matter if they are old or fresh. If they’re fresh, John would build a habit of checking on you every time he sees you, just in case, you know?

He might still do this, even if they are old and you haven’t done it in a long time. Because who knows, maybe things become so stressful that you need that outlet again.

Shamefully, to John at least, the hero would find himself going online to check it out. Hes got no training in mental illness or how to deal with that, which messes with him since he’s supposed to be perfect.

So he finds himself on different forums, from both people who have done it, and partners of people who have self-harmed, reading into how they deal with it or react. John being, well, John, would probably grow annoyed because its all types of emotionally vulnerable stuff, something he’s horrible at.

There is also little chance he would bring it up, at least in the beginning. Again, because it’s a new ground he’s never been on, and its an emotional conversation he can’t figure out how to navigate.

The conversation would end up coming up as you two are cuddling, and John finds himself carefully stroking the area with the scars, trying to comprehend why and how you would do that. What did you go through? There might also be some guilt, since he couldn’t save you from whatever made you self-harm, even if you guys didn’t even know each other at the time.

It would end up with you explaining it to him, since you guys are in a relationship and its all built on trust, right? And he’s been so chill about it this entire time, so why not tell him.

You almost get a heart attack when he starts getting glossy eyes and his bottom lip wobbles just a little, because John has been stressed about this since he figured it out, and he just doesn’t know how to react or what to do.

In the end its you that has to comfort him, and explain that it isn’t a big deal and nothing to cry about. But you also know it’s a new experience for John. Theres also some fear in John, since seeing your scars make your morality so clear. If you could get scars from that, imagine what others could do to you.

After some cuddling and comforting, John would tell you strictly to never do it again. You cant take him seriously though, since his usually styled hair is all mused and his eyes are pink around the edges, and, he’s pouting again.

You promise not too though, since it gets him to smile a little and cuddle you again, clinging to you as hard as he dares with his super strength. You make him vulnerable, and the Homelander part of him doesn’t like that, but the John part of him basks in it, at how human you make him feel.

Maybe hed even let slip that he had thoughts like that too, even if he couldn’t cut or burn himself like you could. That just means his self-harm shone through in more mental or extreme ways.

John builds a habit of brushing his fingers or kisses over your scars, not just the self-harm ones, but all of them. Its part to remind himself that you are so fragile, but also to remind him that you are alive and there with him.

He won’t admit this though, since its cheesy. And he grows embarrassed if you ever bring it up, making him grumble and walk away to pout. It never lasts, and he’s back not long after.