#need to devolve so bad please let me live in there please please please
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Brainworms: Sabo x Yonji
Hello little people in my phone. Today I bring you new update in the Good!Yonji AU (AU where Yonji defects from Germa at age 15 after learning about Emotions and starts a clothing store instead. more here)
Woke up this morning and my brain said to me "you know what would be funny? Putting Sabo and Good!Yonji into a room together." AKA Orange talks herself into another rarepair
Apparently, the conclusion my brain came to was that they would kiss. I presented the thought to my little buddies, @nosongunsung11 (rubber duck and feedback loop) and @courfeyracs-swordcane (hypeman) and the idea devolved and now I just ship them whole heartedly.
Let me present too you my newest agenda, Yonji x Sabo. (Target audience: 5) I will give yall the elevator pitch, but this is the longest elevator ride of your life and the music is terrible. Strap in.
Okay, SO- Yonji is a fashion nerd right? And one day, a tall, blonde, hot and most perfectly proportioned man walks into the store in an impeccably well kempt suit. The simp/artist genes kick in. Yonji wants to make a suit for this man so bad.
Yonji would just be a puddle in the floor like "please sir I will do anything. Let me make a suit for you."
Then he find out this guy is a runaway noble? (Who ran away at age 5!) Who is now fighting the world government? (Second in command!) Has brothers he hasn't seen in 10 years and is rebuilding their relationship? Survived Trauma and is living it up now causing problems for people of power? Yonji is so far gone.
On the flip side, Sabo does not like Yonji at first. Thinks he's a hooligan. Tries to scare him off by using big words™️ but Yonji is also an ex-prince and is not intimidated but swoons harder because hot and smart? Holy shit. He is also peak autistic swag and deadass does not pick up on the fact that Sabo is trying to bully him. Also, Sabo is undercover.
Yonji does succeed in convincing Sabo to let him make a suit and they end up becoming buddies. (They both have brother complexes and the other reminds them of the brothers and its bad I hate it but it is true)
One day Yonji gets caught in a revs fight and Sabo's like "I need to protect this totally normal and helpless civilian who has nothing to do with this" and Yonji is like "holy shit, a chance to show off in front of the cool guy". Anyways cue both of them going feral and insane in a fight and Yonji, wiping blood from his hands with a handkerchief because he was raised as a prince and habits die hard looks over at Sabo and it like "Anyways that was fun, wanna grab coffee? Oh, I know some very good ways to get blood stain out of wool. :)"
And Sabo realizes "something is deeply wrong with him and I dig it." Or as @nosongunsung11 puts it: "I can't see the simping working on Sabo what would Work is Yonji going fucking feral on a bunch of random marines"
They also get attached to the other on the basis of Yonji's AuDHD swag reminds Sabo of Luffy and and Sabo's blonde suited runaway energy reminds Yonji of Sanji. Both of these idiots have massive brother complexes and they are working on it-
They're both stupid and have issues and it works. Anyways, Yonji ends up joining the revs.
He makes disguises. He also gets a fedora.
Also more chances to be unhinged and feral.
Other things. Yonji is a big foodie and always wants to try everything on the menu but is unable to finish it and he's learned to Not Waste Food, however, Sabo already orders everything on a menu anyways so Yonji just takes a bite of everything.
The both carry around little notebook/sketchbooks, Sabo for his notes on random things and Yonji for his designs. Yonji is sometimes allowed to illustrate Sabo's notes.
Bonus: Sabo models for Yonji.
(inspired by irl event of being an art student and sometimes you need your friend to do emergency weird poses)
Please give relinquish your opinions about this I need to know.
#good yonji au#yonji one piece#vinsmoke yonji#sabo one piece#yonji x sabo#yonbo? yonsa? yonsabo? saboyon? sayon?#idk ship name#sabo x yonji#my art#vinsmoke yonji x sabo
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i’d be home with you // by daisyful
18+
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pairings: jake x reader
tags: bf!jake, a mild amount of what i would consider hurt/comfort, sweet sex, oral sex (f receiving), ummm, so many pet names i apologize it’s kinda excessive lol
word count: 2.2k
summary: jake comes home from a few weeks on the road and i’m sure you can guess what happens after that 😌
notes: title is from ‘in a week’ by hozier 💘
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“Angel,”
The name carried through the house as the door latched, and your head turned so fast it almost hurt.
“Babe,” you sighed back, scrambling off the couch to greet him.
He was beaming, despite the tired hollows under his eyes.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmured, dropping his bag and suitcase handle, letting it all smack the ground with disregard, as you fell into his arms.
It was like this every time you went without him and then rejoined; warm, full of butterflies, like all the tension in your muscles drained.
After burying your head in his hair and letting him hug you so tight you couldn’t breathe, you pulled back to kiss him hard.
He exhaled into you, breath warm, his lips cold from the December air but steadily adjusting to yours.
He kissed you again, then again, until it devolved into something needy and sloppy. He backed you up against the kitchen counter, and you hissed at the cold marble against your back, only veiled by a thin t-shirt.
Laughing at your reaction, he pressed his hips into yours and licked into your mouth.
“Jake,” you sighed into him, feeling your cheeks heat, your thighs clench.
“Mm, yeah?” he grinned against you, “My girl need me?”
You nodded, moving to kiss his neck, “Missed you so much,”
“Oh, but I missed you more,” he murmured, head tipping back to let you lick at the skin, “Missed you in every way,”
You whimpered, pulling him back down by his chin to kiss you again. He nearly growled, finally losing some of his composure.
“Come here,” he breathed, gripping your ass and lifting you against him. He carried you down the familiar path to the bedroom, leaving the lights off, before laying you on the bed.
The room was only lit by the overflowing glow of the living room lamp through the doorway. The silhouette of him taking his shirt off and the sound of his belt undoing made you bite back a moan.
You reached for the hem of your shirt, prepared to yank it over your head, but he stopped you:
“No, let me,” he said, leaning over you. His pants were on but undone, and you had to resist the urge to reach for him.
Gently, he pulled the shirt over your head.
“I missed you so fucking bad,” his hands darted to your pants, yanking them and your underwear down in a swift motion.
“Please,” you found yourself whimpering, “I need you,”
“Mm, need you, angel,”
There was no point in the back and forth, you both felt the same way and you knew it, but there was some sort of way that it added to the desperation that made it worth saying aloud.
His fingers descended between your legs as he crawled over you on the bed, and the broken moan that fell from you couldn’t have been stifled if you tried.
“Yeah?” he teased. You could hear his smirk, “You miss my fingers?”
You nodded though he likely could hardly see it in the dim lighting.
The two fingers slipped inside easily, and he groaned softly at the feeling.
You canted your hips into it, silently pleading him to keep going.
He was breathing next to your ear, cheek pressed to yours. Pathetic moans fell from you.
“Let me hear you, angel. Missed your pretty voice,”
“Fuck, Jake,” you were writhing, because while the fingers were filling you perfectly, you missed him far too much, you just wanted him.
“What, angel?” he kissed your jaw, your neck.
“More,” you breathed, “Please, I missed you.”
“Mm,” he licked at your neck, down to your collarbone, fucking his fingers into you quickly, “Beg for it,” he murmured into your skin, “Tell me how bad you missed me.”
“Jake…,” your voice was shaky, both from the way his fingers were working, and because you didn’t know how to redirect his request.
You didn’t want to beg—not after the week you’d had, and not after you already felt like he was barely yours.
It wasn’t true; he was so entirely yours, but it didn’t always feel that way when he was gone for so long, playing shows for strangers. You didn’t want the harsh reminder that you were desperate for him.
But oh, how to say that in a way that wouldn’t ruin the moment…
“Go on,” he was grinning against your skin, voice rumbling, nibbling here and there at your chest, “Beg, angel, let me hear your pretty voice beg for me inside you,”
“Jake, I…”
“Feeling spoiled, mm?” he skirted his teeth over your nipple, “Come on, if you want it so bad then use your words,”
“Jake,” you felt tears stinging in your eyes, and you wished so desperately that his fingers were not in you anymore, and that this wasn’t happening—that he could have just came home and loved on you, and that you weren’t being like this, that you could just play along with his little game—
“Angel?” His voice was back to normal, “Hey,” his withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the sheets, bringing a hand to hold your cheek.
“Hey,” he repeated softly as you fell silent, “Talk to me, what happened?”
“I…” your voice cracked, “I just…”
“It’s okay,” he reassured, laying between your legs and grabbing your hand gently with his free one. The weight of his body on your legs was grounding.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he breathed, kissing the palm of your hand.
“I don’t wanna beg,” you said in a voice so small it was embarassing, “I fucking missed you, Jake. I just want you, I don’t…” you took a shaky breath but he didn’t interrupt, “I don’t want to beg, not right now,”
His eyes softened so noticeably that you wanted to cry.
“My angel,” he kissed your stomach, “You don’t have to beg,” his voice was calming, “You don’t have to beg at all. That’s just for fun, it’s not—“ he took a breath, “You have me, I’m yours. You never have to beg for me, I’m yours.”
Small tears fell from your eyes even though you felt much calmer now. You nodded gently.
“Okay, sweet girl?” He reached up to stroke your hair, “I need you to know that. I only asked ‘cause it’s hot to hear you do it. I’ll give you whatever you want whenever you want, always,”
His hand cradled your cheek and you nuzzled into it, nodding again.
“Okay,” he whispered, kissing your stomach again, “Wanna cuddle?”
You shook your head without another thought, “No, I want…I want you,”
“We don’t have to—“
“No, Jake, I really…,” you sighed, feeling a tinge of frustration with the situation.
“Okay, angel,” he nodded at you, lifting his torso to lean over you, kissing you slow, “I understand. Let me take care of my girl,”
You sighed against his mouth, lifting your head up to kiss him again. He hummed.
“Can I go down on you?” He breathed, “For just a second? Then I’ll fuck you, sweetheart. Just wanna taste you,”
You whined, suddenly right back in it.
“Yeah,” you whimpered.
He nodded, moving down to suck on your nipple. Your back arched up into him as you gasped.
His other hand trailed down between your legs, teasing at your inner thighs.
“My angel,” he groaned, slipping two fingers back into you. You sighed and let your head fall back for a moment, “My beautiful fucking angel. I missed you, baby.”
You nodded, biting your lip and watching him descend. He placed a soft kiss to your clit before licking gently.
His name left your lips in a shaky breath, and he hummed into you, brows furrowed in concentration, tongue working slowly, savoring it.
“Wanna cum once like this?” He peered up at you.
You licked your lip and submitted to the warmth in your belly, nodding at his question.
“Yeah you do,” he breathed, “Lemme make you cum. Bet you miss that, huh? My poor girl has had to do it herself for too many days,”
Your eyes rolled back as his fingers worked expertly in you. A soft, “please,” escaped you.
“I will, angel, you just relax and enjoy it,”
You sighed, melting into the bed as he lapped and licked. He was groaning and whimpering, which only made your stomach hotter.
After a very short time, the combination of him pressing his fingers just perfectly and the slick warmth of his tongue rolling over you sent you over the precipice, tumbling into a much awaited bliss.
He groaned loud when your thighs squeezed around him, and his free hand clutched your hip with desperation.
After letting you come down, he was biting kisses up your body, murmuring curses.
“So hot,” he said, breathless, lips locking onto your neck near your shoulder, “You’re so perfect, fuck,”
You whined, fingers clawing at the warm skin of his back, “Please, Jake,” you breathed.
Reaching down between your bodies, you slipped a finger under the hem of his boxers and pushed down, allowing you to grip him. An uncharacteristically needy moan spilled from him as his head dropped onto your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he bit out, “Missed that,”
You hummed in understanding and stroked him gently.
“You like that?” you murmured, enjoying his wanton reaction.
He pulled his head back up to look at you and nodded, his jaw slack, hips pushing up into your hand.
“Then let’s just do this for a second,” you grinned.
He nodded again, leaning down to kiss you, a moan breaking past his lips as soon as they met yours.
You enjoyed the warmth of him in your palm, and his subtle whimpers against your mouth. He let you touch him for several moments, which only made the need for him stronger.
“Jake,” you managed, “Please, can we just…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he kissed your cheek, “Of course, angel,”
He pulled off of you and stood at the end of the bed to rid himself fully of his jeans. Quickly, though, he was right back on top of you.
“Is this okay?” he murmured, rubbing himself against you, his face over yours, “Wanna be close to you.”
“S’perfect,” you whispered, focusing nearly entirely on the teasing feeling of him against you. “C’mon, babe,” you urged, “want you inside,”
He nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss and easing gently into you. All of the air pushed from your lungs at the full feeling that you’d missed so much. Like this, you felt whole.
“Oh,” he rasped out, “God, I missed you,”
You nodded, just whimpering, overwhelmed at the feeling of him. His hair hung in your face, and oddly enough, that is what made you feel at home.
You smiled in a blissed out way as he began to draw himself out and then back in, working up a steady pace.
His skin was hot against yours, his cheek pressed to yours, his warm breath near your ear. The closeness was everything you needed.
“Fuck, babe,” he spoke in a low, tempting voice, “You feel so good. Warm and soft and wet for me,”
You gasped, and your cheeks heated.
He licked at your neck as he fucked you, nipping at the skin occasionally. He pinned one of your hands above your head, and the other held your face. Your free hand hugged his side, palming the soft skin.
“My angel,” he breathed, “You’ll never know how much I miss you when I’m away. Love how close we feel like this, almost makes up for it.”
You were just along for the ride, listening to him, taking him in, breathing in the smell of his cologne and deodorant and sweat.
“Never wanna stop fucking you,” he kissed at your jaw, “Never wanna stop kissing you,”
You whimpered as he brought his mouth to you in a heated kiss. The both of you could hardly breathe, but that didn’t matter at all. He finally felt so close, so much like yours.
“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” he murmured against your mouth, “Feel good?”
“Yeah,” you said in a broken groan, “Yes, please keep—just please—“
“I will,” he kissed you again, “I will, baby. Cum for me when you’re ready.”
“Jake,”
You nearly sobbed out the name, all at once desperate for him and beside yourself with how much you adored him.
“I know, sweetheart. I know. Missed you so much, but I’m here now. Let go for me, babe.”
So you did, jaw slack and eyes rolling back so hard you couldn’t tell if they were open or shut. With a mantra of his name, you came harder than you had in weeks. Your cheeks flushed as it washed over you.
“So perfect,” he breathed, “I’m—oh—“
“Please, please, please,” fell from you in a chanted whisper, as suddenly you needed him so badly you could hardly stand it.
He nodded and rutted his hips into you a final time as he came undone, mouth parted gently and sweat beading on his forehead. He rested against your shoulder as he came down.
“Mmm,” he hummed, “Don’t wanna get up.”
“Then don’t,” you kissed his hair, “We’ll shower and change the sheets in the morning,”
“That’s a good fucking idea, babe,” he laughed softly as he pulled out of you carefully and laid between your legs, his arms reaching up to grab your torso, his head laid on your stomach as if it were a down pillow.
“Missed you so much,” you whispered, toying with his hair. He looked up at you with loving eyes.
“I’ll always miss you more, angel. And I'll always come home to you.”
fin.
taglist: @starshine-wagner @dannywagners-middlefinger @writingcold @kels-gvf @aconfusedhippie @jordierama @fearless-wanderer @finelinejpm @thehourbeforesunrise @madz-0217 @gretavanbitches @doodle417 @rhythm-of-space @milkgemini @st4rdust-ch0rds @thegardensgate @myownparadise96 @gretavanfleas @josh-iamyour-mama @jake-kiszkas-smirk
#gvf fanfiction#gvf fic#greta van fleet fan fiction#gvf fics#greta van smut#gvf smut#jake kiszka fic#jake gvf#jake kiszka x reader
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Hey , I have a request for a Glen Powell one-shot story: can you do one that a reader who is from & living Austin, Texas. On one summer afternoon, while she was going for a walk, she ran into the actor, and he said sorry, then they started having a conversation, and he wanna take her out on a date.
My very first ask for the sexy guy thanks love!!
Pairing:Glen Powell (need to cool down think of this man 😮💨)X Reader.
Title: Puppy love.
You were back in Austin after a weekend trip in the Sunshine state with some of your girlfriends.
After changing into this outfit.
You brought your puppy Halley back from the sitter and Say. "Okay Halley want to go for a walk uh girl?"
Your dog does twists on the ground near your feet. You laugh grabbing her leash. "Alright let's go girl"
You walk down to your favorite Cafe and spot a man who has light brown hair and his eyes that look amazing meet yours. You flash him a smile then walk away.
You walk around the park and Say. 'okay girl let's go for a jog" You start off at a slow pace with your little dog leading the way.
You look at your watch and run into someone and look up and see it's the man who looked at you at the cafe.
"Shit! Sorry sir i didn't see you" He chuckles. 'No no it's my fault please forgive me i'm sorry"
He smiles and you say. "uh well um...hey i think i saw you at my favorite coffee shop just half an hour ago. He nods. "yea. I'm Glen Powell, you?"
You smile lightly. "Y/N L/N nice to meet you Glen" He grins and kneels to your dog. "and who's this?" You laugh. "Halley" "hi pup you look so cute today, your mom is great too"
Just then Brisket runs to Glen and he turns and says. "this is Brisket" You kneel down by Glen petting his dog. "Hi Brisket it's nice to meet you on this hot day"
Glen Glances at you and says. "you look uh..good" You look at him. "no i look bad but thanks" You two stand up and he says. "Let me get you some coffee at your favorite coffee shop as you call it, please?"
You smile and nod. "Sure just one coffee"
You four walk back to the coffee shop and Glen sits across from you and you two end up talking for over an hour. After coffee he gives you his number. "I'd love to get to know you more if you ever want to reach me"
You smile."i'll keep you in my mind" You shake your head. "Sorry i meant your number."
Glen laughs. "I know what you meant it was nice meeting you maybe we can grab another coffee soon" You nod. "I'd love that Glen." he nods and says "have a nice day beautiful"
You feel butterflies in your gut when he called you that.
Beautiful
You....were Beautiful to Glen Powell...you could have fainted right then and there but you just give him a warm smile and he walks away.
You get home and get a text from an unknown number.
unknown-Hey beautiful it's Glen 🙂
Y/N-Hi Glen nice to hear from ya so soon..hehe.
You changed unknown to Glen 🤠
Glen 🤠-Nice hat for me!
Y/N-Hehe glad u like it cowboy
Glen Changed your name to Cowgirl 🏇
Cowgirl 🏇-Smooth one 😉
Glen 🤠-Thank ya kindly beautiful.
You and Glen text almost everyday chatting about the little things and devolve and great friendship...or will it be more than a friendship?
Thank you Kora for this ask! Hope it's what you want.
tags:@angelbabyyy99 @nicoline1998enilocin @cutedisneygrl
#glen powell fluff#glen powell x reader#glen fucking powell#glen powell fic#glen powell fanfic#glen powell
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OMG I FOUND ONE
it’s so rare to find a writer SPECIFICALLY for John Doe-
anyways, hello! Could I please request some fluff (maybe a bit suggestive at the end if ur feelin it, but it’s fine if not) with a GN reader? For the idea… maybe if the reader had just gotten home from a long day at work and John just flocks to them, tending to their every need and trying his best to make the reader feel like the most valued living thing in the world! Yk, him just fawning over his partner, absolutely SMITTEN.
thanks for listening and I hope you have fun writing this! Who knows, I might be back for more 👀
I'm so glad you came to my page!!! I specifically write GN and Male readers so drop a request anytime hun!
Edit as of Posting: Just want to apologize for this taking so long. College kicks my butt and has been causing quite a lot of depression, but I'm back into the swing of things!!!
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Physically Exhausted
Since moving to the Uncanny Valley, work had always been a difficult thing due to the late shifts you worked. It wasn't exactly for the fainthearted. Especially since your boyfriend didn't work- well couldn't get work since he was a Regular Guy which is seen as local pest, and while yes your boyfriend is a tad bit pesky, he was far above common vermin, at least to you.
You walked home tiredly in the rain, having missed your bus. Doe would have met you at the bus stop, but he is hydrophobic and you'd rather not watch your partner devolve into a puddle or something. The thought made you uncomfortable.
You were covered in a grape slushie that someone dropped on you since you told them they were a dollar or so short. Your pants smelled of orange soda some kid dropped on you that his guardian said wasn't a big deal. You felt miserable. You walked home miserably as you were soaked in rain and seething with frustration. You got to your apartment building, clicking the button on the intercom.
"Who is it?" Doe spoke on the other end curious as to who it was.
"Hey, honey. Can you let me upstairs?" You asked him. You had conveniently forgotten your keys this morning, so you couldn't get in.
"On it!" He spoke happily and bolted to the door to open it for you. As you walked up the stairs, you went to hug him, but he stepped back, pointing to the water coming off your clothes.
"Sorry, love bug." He smiled at you sweetly.
That kinda was the last straw for you and you just started crying in the hall, as John Doe was wide-eyed and looked at you as you cried and rambled about how horrible your day was.
"Some bitch dropped a slushie on me! Some kid dropped soda on me! Then I forgot my keys and it's raining! and now I can't hug my boyfriend." You just cried and rambled about your bad day and Doe gently guided you inside as you sobbed quietly and pitied yourself. He slowly took your jacket off(with plastic gloves), and set it aside with your uniform hat and he led you to the bathroom where you saw your favorite pajamas out for you and your bluetooth speaker on to blast your favorite music. You slowly stopped crying and he just had a sweet smile on his face as you finally calmed down.
"It'll be ok. You're home now! For the rest of the night you'll be treated the way you should be treated." He smiled again and held your face in his hands. "Even when you're upset, you're still the most beautiful thing to me." He kissed your forehead, and let you be for a while.
You calmed down finally and threw aside your wet clothes. You were surprised he wasn't fussing about the shower since he usually hates it when you do. You open the shower and hook up your phone to the speaker, vibing to your music and cathartically losing yourself for a moment. After a good twenty minutes of scrubbing yourself and your hair, you eventually opened the curtain to find your favorite fluffy towel, the one you loved the most, and did your best to keep it in good condition. After you got all dressed you came out to see Doe had warmed up your favorite meal you prepped and defrosted throughout the week.
"I got your favorite movie on, lovebug!" He smiled at you as you sat down.
"Thanks, Doe." You smile and ate your meal, snuggling up to him and eating your meal. Despite a bad day... this was nice. Coming home to the man you love. Of course he wasn't watching the movie, those big, sweet eyes were looking directly at you. Of course you didn't mind as you hugged him.
"Thank you, Doe... for everything." You smiled and kissed his cheek gently, making all his adorable curls turn to hearts and his pupils to dilate largely.
"Anything for you, my beloved." He proceeded to pounce you- smothering you in kisses and all over your sweet face. Of course, you tried to escape- but you were stuck for a while, but who could ask for more than him? Someone who loves you so devotedly as John Doe? No one could ever compare.
#john doe#john doe visual novel#john doe x reader#character x reader#john doe x you#tw yandere#johndoeshrine#obsessive yandere
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“Do it.”
Ken stood, frozen and trapped. Papa was there, but it wasn’t Papa.
It was Shinjiro-san. It was Shinjiro-san as he had been on October 4th, 2009. He stood hunched like his peacoat weighed the same as the sky, his eyes were dark and half-lidded- exhausted.
“Just... Let me give you one warning,” Shinjiro-san said, and Ken tried to stifle his sobs.
“No, no- No! I don’t want to! I don’t want to kill you! Please, let’s just go! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve changed my mind!” He pleaded, and someone else walked up. It... looked like him.
“You know you cannot undo what’s been done. Why do you try?” Not-Ken asked. Ken trembled as he tried to speak.
“It’s my fault! It’s my fault he almost died, it’s my fault he struggles now... I want to help him, I don’t want him to feel bad anymore! He carries guilt too, and it’s still because of me!”
Shinjiro-san vanished, leaving Ken and his Shadow alone.
“Do you still see him as he was before? Or has he changed in your eyes?” Shadow Ken asked, and Ken bowed his head.
“He’s changed. But I still- I still see that day. It’s Papa I see now, though, not Shinjiro-san. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Would it be better if I had died that day!? Would it have been better if Papa had let me die, if Takaya had killed me and-”
“And you died in Papa’s arms? Leaving even more guilt? He feels bad enough over the death of your mother. Imagine how he’d feel if he had been the cause of another Amada death. He has begun the journey to forgiveness. He wouldn’t have made it past that night if you had died,” his Shadow said, and Ken sank to the ground, hugging himself and sobbing.
It was all his fault, and yet Papa was still alive. Papa still cared for him. Papa still loved him.
“I’m sorry...”
“You don’t want to die. You want to live, you want to join the soccer team and pass middle school and see Papa and Dad happy. You want to see Goro graduate. You want to live,” his Shadow said, and Ken nodded shakily.
“How can Papa find it in himself to forgive me...? After all I’ve done, how can he-?”
“KEN!”
There’s a sudden thundering of footsteps, and someone strong scoops him up, spinning him around and hugging him.
Ken recognises the scent of cinnamon and cologne, and hugs back.
“Papa-! Papa, I’m so sorry-”
He devolves into sobs again, and Papa presses a kiss to his head, holding him more gently, rubbing circles on his back.
“Hey, don’t apologise. Never apologise for somethin’ like this, okay? It ain’t your fault. Are you okay?”
Papa steps back, holding Ken’s shoulders. His dark grey eyes are less tired than they once were, no longer darkly shadowed. His skin, once ashen and pale, is now a healthy tan, darker still from the warm autumn sun. He was once frightfully thin, giving everyone healthy portions of food but never taking any for himself. Now he was strong, strong enough to pick Ken up with ease.
“...I’m okay,” Ken murmured, burying his face in Papa’s jacket. It smelled like nutmeg.
After a moment, he pulled away, facing his Shadow.
“...You’re me. Aren’t you?”
His Shadow nodded, and Ken extended a hand. “Well, I am thou.”
The Shadow took it, and smiled. “Thou art I.”
He vanished, leaving a tarot card in his place. When Ken took it, he saw that it was the Justice arcana.
“...Does this mean I won't need my Evoker anymore?” He asked, and Papa placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We can find out later. Come on, let's get you home. The others are all worried sick.”
As they left, Ken heard an echo of his vow to his Shadow.
I am thou, thou art I.
Memento mori.
OH MY GOD KENS SHADOW the way the fic is ken focused so shinji is referred to as papa... ALSO DIDNT EXPECT KEN TO REFER TO HIM AS PAPA FOR SOME REASON??? thats so cute though... ken accepting his shadow accepting the fact that he doesnt need to feel guilty. its all ok now and he cant change the past... also love that the shinji illusion resembles him in p3 more and afterwards when he sees the real one, he's grown, taking care of himself, looking better, happy... i love them sm
#nero answers#shackle-foes#family au#shinjiro aragaki#ken amada#persona 4#persona 3#p3 spoilers#persona 3 spoilers#p3#p4
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Forever off anonymous am I. Anyway, I noticed some of the folders have pictures in them, so I'm picking from those. Number 52 I am my mother's child (I'll love you till my breathing stops), or if someone has already asked for that, Number 26 and with every step forward put a little more sword in your heart. Please and thank you <3
The illuminated void welcomes thee ✨
The pictures are generally reference images; whenever I go, "surely I will remember this pose/art/post," I end up regretting it because my memory is kinda fickle.
And you get both! Especially because 52 is gonna be...something of an acquired taste.
26
Title: and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart (from “The Grey” by Bad Omens)
Ship: Nanami/Yuuji, Gojou/Yuuji (both endgame)
CWs: None, for once. Yuuji's over 18 in this.
Premise: Canon divergence where Shibuya doesn't happen because Gojou burned Getou's body (which is my go-to rationale for no-Shibuya AUs) and is considerably more fucked up because of it. The Tokyo trio live to graduate, they celebrate it, and Nanami spends the aftermath playing human handkerchief to an extremely drunk Yuuji, who's sobbing into his neck about his teacher being too pretty. Nanami takes him to his own place to sleep it off, they fuck it off instead, and Nanami's attempt to be all "this can never happen again" about it devolves into an FWB arrangement with absolute shit communication. Yuuji's still in love with Gojou; Gojou is oblivious until he really, really isn't. This is a three-part monster of an idea that will cover Nanami PoV, Yuuji PoV, and Gojou PoV, in that order, assuming I ever write it.
Inspiration: You know how Part 1 of the deaging series leans heavily into platonic Nanami&Yuuji. Well, I wound up liking their relationship so much that it stopped being platonic, leading to this idea. It was also the start of my descent into Yuuji multishipping hell. I've since discovered that nothing—absolutely nothing, no relationship dynamic—is safe from me if I'm invested enough; this will be relevant for #52.
52
Title: i am my mother's child (i'll love you till my breathing stops) (from “Writer in the Dark” by Lorde)
Ship: Kenjaku/Yuuji, Gojou/Yuuji (goyuu endgame)
CWs: Incest, underage, human experimentation, body horror, monsterfucking
Premise: Pre-canon where Kenjaku pays their favorite child a few in-person visits, finds that Yuuji's body is rejecting Sukuna's fingers, and lets their scientific curiosity run a little wilder than usual. The end result is a Yuuji who's more curse than human, nigh indestructible, has a few extra prehensile limbs, and is also furious at his "mother." Since Kenjaku's got important plans of chaos to execute and can't babysit their monsterfied kid, they put Yuuji to sleep, stash him away, and fuck off to arrange the Shibuya Incident (a few years delayed, probably). Gojou finds Yuuji while investigating unusual curse activity. Cue tentacle sex and Gojou acquiring a new "pet."
Inspiration: This was the collision of two separate urges. One, my interest in Kenjaku's connection to Yuuji growing to the point I wanted to write about it, except I can't write genfic to save my life. Two, my desire to write tentacle!goyuu that's not an AU. I've done that for MCU, and it's fun, but it's way more rewarding to find some way to work in freaky sex into canonverse. And Kenjaku is my go-to plot point when I need to put Yuuji through the horrors, but this time, I figured I'd make it a hell of a more hands-on. Two birds with one stone.
Thanks for asking 💝
#otterlycosplay#wip open season#i love my anons#my fic#fic: a little more sword in your heart#fic: i am my mother's child#jjk snippets
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Guest of Honor - Comic Script
A Realm Reborn - lvl 14
Wolfram is invited to a banquet and is treated to an Echo vision he actually enjoys!
Wolfram Saga Comics
This is the script for a future comic. Posting for those who don’t want to wait to get the story. Numbers indicate frame number.
Shot of Admiral’s party. (From cutscene.) Narrator “After Wolfram uncovered the Sea Reaver’s plot and saved Swiftperch, Admiral Bloefhiswin invited him to a banquet as her honored guest.”
Wolfram talking to Merlwyb. Merlwyb smiling “I'm pleased to see you were the adventurer who saved the day! I suppose I should have known, as the reported state of our enemy's corpses matched those you'd dispatched for me before.”
A) Wolf winks “Oh, don't flatter me so. I simply know my way around a fireball.” B) Merlwyb laughs “And a rapier. Twas good luck, given the foe.”
A) Merlwyb nods “Limsa Lominsa is lucky to have you. And you have my thanks.” B) Wolf smirks “This banquet is a pleasant change from the usual pocket of gil delivered by your henchmen.”
Zoomed out, Merlwyb objecting “Oh shush! The thalassocracy thanks you for *all* your service, but this was far more serious than the odd job I throw yer way.” Wolf “How so?”
A) Merlwyb explains “The pirates you killed - they worshipped the primal Leviathan. They sought to kidnap others to forcefully serve the Sahagain’s god.” B) Wolf frowns “That's awful! Bad enough so many Sahagain are enthralled but to actively kidnap Lominsan citizens is a worrying development.
A) Wolf hopeful “Is there no way to save them? The enthralled Sahagain? That would ensure the safety of your citizens as well. Other than the land disputes, which could be negotiated.” B) Y’Shtola glancing over, curious. >ear twitch< Thought ‘Did he just express pity towards *beastmen*? Fascinating.’
Zoomed out, Y’Shtola walking over. Merlwyb - “Save? I need not tell you the depth of the animosity between us and the Sahagin. How any seaman worth his salt could devote himself to the fishbacks’ god is a question for a more temperate mind than mine.”
Y’Shtola standing with them. Wolfram frowns - “Let us not devolve into that sort of language Merlwyb, please. I know you have your reasons to hate them, but I’ve met enough Sahagin to know they aren’t all monsters. Regardless, what those enthralled were doing needed to be stopped.”
Merlwyb smirks “I suppose I cannot fault that bleeding ‘eart of yours. It saved many this day. As for now - thanks to you, our citizens may once more go about their daily lives, safe in the knowledge that they will not be dragged into the darkness by those execrable curs.”
A) Wolf chuckles, “Anytime, your Admiralship.” a glow comes from his pocket. B) Wolf takes a crystal out of his pocket, confused.
A) Merlwyb surprised “By the Navigator!” B) Y’shtola excited “This…is one of the Crystals of Light!”
A) Wolf chuckles “Aptly named. I’m not sure why I’ve been carrying it around… You know what the blasted thing is?” B) YShtola pondering “After our encounter with the goobbue, you had a vision, did you not? Of a towering crystal?”
Wolf, putting the crystal back in his pocket “Aye, that I did.” Thought ‘Blessedly different than the ones the damned voidsent shows me.’
A) Y’Shtola smiles “You batherd in Her Light…” Wolf, off frame “Light?” B) Merlwyb smiles “Y’shtola’s conclusion is clear, and I see no reason to doubt it. You are the vessel of a higher power.”
Wolf frowns, defensive “H-how did you know? What does that have to do with the crystal?” Thought ‘A hellhound has no use for it…’
A) Merlwyb explains “This… being from your vision was the Mothercrystal. Your description matches what little we know of Her.” B) She smiles “And if She has chosen you, then your deeds may yet shape the fate of nations.”
Wolf forces a smile “Ah. How wonderful.” Panicked thought ‘THE FUCK?! I now have two entities inside of me?! That can't be possible - surely such light would destroy a voidsent. And I still feel the bastard, even through the ale.’
Merylwyb smiles “Aye, As once did the deed of the Warriors of Light. Know you the tale? Like you, they were not of these lands, yet they fought to protect us all ‘gainst the corruption of the primals.” Wolf comedicly trying to cover up “Ah, so they were also Gridanian?”
A) Merlwyb smirks “Gridanian?! Is *that* what you tell people? You know, I happen to be good friends with one of your countrymen.” B/C) Yshtola frowns, pondering. Looks from one to the other.
A) Wolf awkward smile “Ah. A friend?” Thought ‘Why had I not put that together… she knows Rau. Of course, they’d be friends!’ B) Merlwyb annoyed “Indeed. Simply friends! Those rumors were utter hogwash started by one of his political rivals. The man is an eternal bachelor and he doesn't even -”
A) She smiles awkwardly. Thought ‘Oh gods stop rambling about the ‘ol Bull.’ B) Wolf beams “He is?! I thought by now he would have found some-”
Merlwyb and Y’Shtola confused. Merlwyb thought 'Does this adventurer know General Aldynn?'
A) Wolf, awkward, hand on his head, >sweatdrop< “Sorry, I meant” *cough* “-please, continue your tale of the Warriors of Light.”
Merlwyb amused “Well… when the Garlean Empire began its conquest of the realm, these heroes joined the Grand Companies, and helped reforge the Eorzean Alliance.”
Zoomed out. She continues explaining “And at the Battle of Carteneau, they took the field beneath our banners, to fight for everything we hold dear. It was on that day, in the midst of that hell… that we lost them.”
A) (small frame) Wolf concerned. B) (large frame) Personal flashback to Wolfram outside Mor Dhona as he watches the moon crack open.
Merlwyb somber “Every soul who survived that battle will never forget how it was to fight beside them. We are proud to call them our comrades. Yet, whenever we try to shout their names, the sound dies in our throats. And whenever we strain to see their faces with our mind’s eye, naught but their shadows appear to us, set against a blinding light. Ask any true Eorzean who knew them, and the story will be the same. It is for this reason that we call them ‘the Warriors of Light.”
A) Wolf frowns. Thought ‘I must have arrived too late to see them. Or been too busy to notice.’ B) Flashback Wolf healing an injured soldier.
A) Merlwyb smiles “When I look upon you, I cannot help but be reminded of them.” B) Wolf shocked.
A) Wolf bursts out laughing “Me?! Like a Warrior of Light?!” B) Laughing, covering his mouth as tears run down his cheeks.
Merlwyb eyebrow raise “Take my words to heart or not - but keep that crystal safe. In time, I believe the Mothercrystal will make clear Her reasons for bestowing it upon you. Heed well Her words, Wolfram. For it is Hydaelyn Herself who speaks.”
A) Wolf smirks, wiping his eye “Well this party certainly has taken a mystical turn. I didn’t know you lot were so -” B) He grabs his head, pained expression, echo vision effect.
Screenies from the echo vision at Carteneau. Zoom out of the state leaders.
A) Close-ups of Raubahn yelling on linkpearl B) Rau not wanting to withdraw.
Wolf wakes up in his apartment on the couch, lying on his side.
A) Doky smile, blushing red. “So commanding…” B) Wolf smirks, flushed. Thought ‘I’m beginning to think you aren’t behind these visions after all. Why would you show me Cartenau focused on Rau when he’s so…’
Wolf sitting up. Dark thought “So stressed? Being an arsehole to his subordinates? Stubbornly hesitant to withdraw while his men die?” Wolf blushes and smiles dreamily. “So hot. So incredibly hot.”
Wolf stands, smiles sadly, resting his hand over where his tattoo is and looking out the window. “Gods... how I miss that man.”
Wolfram Saga Comics
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Outlawry and the Outcast Lands (HTTYD Books)
(I’m sorry in advance for any blurry map images, but I can only do so much. If you guys have clearer copies of this, please let me know.)
Hello everyone! Today I’ll write another article that I think you’ll find interesting. I know I haven’t written an article for the Books in, like, a very long time, but now I’ve got myself a topic to talk about.
As you know, Outlawry and Outcasts are among the main antagonists and themes in the Books. That being said, and in spite of it, there isn’t really a whole lot of info concerning this, aside from the few hints, theories, and mentions we get from it.
In the Books, Outlawry and Piracy kinda go hand-in-hand, though they’re not exactly the same thing.
In the Viking Age, there was a complicated yet integral system in Viking society called “Outlawry”. For minor crimes — stealing, injuring, insulting someone’s honor, perjury, non-violent treason (disobeying orders and the like), etc, or if the person exiled himself — they sentenced a person to “Lesser Outlawry”.
Lesser Outlaws had safe zones to live in for up to 3 years, and their family and friends could give them supplies and support if needed. His family could even join him if they so wished. However, if the person ever stepped out of these safe zones for whatever reason, it was fair game if somebody killed him, since he is technically an outlaw, and the killer was exempt from any punishment since the outlaw stepped out of the sanctioned safe zones.
“Greater Outlawry” was when a man or woman committed the following major crimes: assault, rape, manslaughter (accidental or intentional), the harming or killing of a chieftain or lord (or “violent treason”), breaking the terms of the lesser outlawry sentence, and other terrible crimes. If anyone committed these crimes, they were sentenced to “Greater Outlawry”, which was permanent, and could never be revoked once sentenced.
Of course, both in the real world and in this world, it’s natural and essential for outlaws to band together to increase their chances of survival. After all, life as an outlaw wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, as Hiccup hints at in Book 1, and mentions from time to time in later Books. In fact, such was the stress and isolation of becoming a permanent outlaw — becoming both socially and eventually physically executed — that there are many who commit suicide, unable to handle the drastic change to their circumstances.
To be an Outlaw was to, bluntly speaking, metaphorically become the participant of the Hunger Games — except that everyone was coming to kill YOU, gaining glory and honor for themselves, and notoriety for you if you won instead.
Because of this, it was common for Outlaws to band together in order to protect themselves. This is probably how the Outcast Tribe came to be after Thugheart failed in his rebellion to claim the Throne of the Wilderwest for himself, bringing with him whomever got banished with him. Perhaps even with their families, if any went at all. Over the years, they grew to become a deadly force, and unfortunately devolved into a nasty, ferocious, and somewhat primitive Viking band known for cannibalism, human sacrifices, and other bad deeds. Of course, upon Alvin’s coronation as the new High Chieftain of the Outcasts 5-15 years before the events of Book 1, he reformed the Outcasts into a bit more sophisticated force and a bit more with the times, but he couldn’t change all of their traditions.
This Tribe consists mostly of descendants of pro-Thugheart rebels who wish for the descendants of Thugheart to reclaim the Throne of the Wilderwest and rule the Tribes (even though the rest of the Archipelago view them as nothing more than a family of Outcasts and dishonorable men).
While the Outcasts of the Wilderwest are the main groups, they’re by far not the only ones out there. The Archipelago has many Outcast warbands, large and small, spread out throughout the many isles that make up the Barbaric Archipelago. That being said, the Wilderwest Outcasts are by far the most populous and dangerous outlaw bands out there due to their organization, history, resolve, and semi-legitimacy. Other outlaw bands are mostly just warbands led by a leader or warlord rather than a legitimate chieftain or ruler. If they do, it’s self-made and far from legitimate.
But Vikings of the Archipelago who wish to sail through these waters must take heed to the potential danger of running into any bands of wandering Outcasts. Some bands are on dragons, others on ships, and still others with a mix of both. The life of a Viking is fraught with danger.
However, this isn’t the only path to becoming an Outcast. Nor is it the only fate of one, either.
Regardless if you were Outlawed or not, if you have the misfortune and bad luck to run into the Uglithug Slave Ships, you may as well forget ever hoping for freedom again. To become a slave is the same as becoming an Outcast practically. Once they grab hold of you and gift you with the Slavemark, you can never hope to become a Free Viking ever again. (At least until the Dragonmarker Revolution led by Hiccup the Third brought it back into its original symbolic meaning.)
But if you ever got lucky enough to escape (though few ever do), you would still be treated as if you were an Outcast and probably killed on the spot, or, if you were lucky, become someone else’s slave.
If you got caught by any Roman ships, then you’d meet the same fate and you’d end up becoming a slave or a gladiator for their Games.
Vikings who got banished from their homes as Outcasts would either go to 2 places: The Mainland, where they would have to deal with dragons AND Uglithugs, and try to avoid becoming a slave or just outright killed on the spot — and woe unto them if they got banished during the winter seasons (though anytime was bad when you’re in the Archipelago); and the second is being sent by UG the Uglithug to the Island of Berserk, where they’re imprisoned in the infamous Forest Dungeon until the time comes for their monthly human sacrifices to the Dragon (until, at least, Hiccup came along and spoilt the fun like the party-pooper he is. XD)
However, there was a THIRD option — one that most people probably don’t know about.
Cannibal Isle. The island where starving to death and dealing with dragons was the LEAST of your worries.
This place was never mentioned in the Books, but you can find this in some maps in Book 1: How To Train Your Dragon and in the Complete Book of Dragons. That being said, it is mentioned in the Books about Vikings being banished having to face dangers such as being beset by cannibals. Book 1 is the most we get about it, but it is interesting to note that he says this. As he says this in lieu of talking about being banished to the Mainland, it might be that Cannibal Isle isn’t the only place where cannibals reside. That being said, we can’t be sure of such things, since Cowell never mentions the place nor about the banishment since it never happens after the Berkian and Meathead Youths’ victory over the Green Death.
I just happened to have seen this on the maps of Book 1 and the Book of Dragons and was very interested and started to wonder if this wasn’t a connection of some sort. If he mentions cannibals, then the other destination they might’ve been sent to other than the Mainland (which, to be honest, is a FAR DISTANCE from Berk) could’ve been Cannibal Isle.
Cannibal Isle might possibly be home to Outcasts who’ve been banished from society and driven to this island, which doesn’t have much in the way of food, and are lucky to get by on plants and fish and whatever they manage to scrounge up. But eventually the hunger drove them mad and caused them to look to man-flesh to sustain their needs. Thus, the island became known as “Cannibal Isle”, and would often be a place to send permanent outlaws to other than the Mainland.
Another area I thought would be an interesting hotspot for pirates, raiders, and outcasts was in the Mazy Multitudes. Only the bravest would enter these waters and make them their base of operations. Other than the weather, the Sharkworms, and the like, they’d also have to contend with the Romans who’ve made their stronghold there on one of the islands.
However, the Mazy Multitudes also make for a great base since not many Vikings would be crazy enough to risk entering the Mazy Multitudes to deal with any Outcasts or Raiders who’ve made themselves at home here, especially since the Romans have made their base here for hundreds of years.
Not only that, but it’s pretty close to several islands, such as Glum, Peaceable Country, Meatheads, Berk, Waterlands, Mystery, Swallow, and others. And much traffic enters near or into these waters, making it a lovely hotspot. Or one of them, at any point. It’s similar to the modern-day water trade routes in Indonesia.
All-in-all, it’s not a bad spot to hang out at -- though, admittedly, there are perhaps more safer areas to establish your base at.
Conclusion:
So there are many paths and many ways that one ends up becoming an Outcast of Viking society when concerning the lore of the Books. And we’ve learned that becoming an Outcast... is not fun’n’games. At all. It’s literally like Hunger Games, but with worse odds and even less support unless you luckily end up in one of the many Outcast bands or form one yourself.
What happens to Outcasts can vary: from going to the Mainland, to becoming a slave, to dying at the hands of Cannibals or some Dragon, to succumbing to the natural and unnatural elements, to getting killed by dragons... the possibilities are ENDLESS.
In fact, there should’ve been a book called “You Wouldn’t Want to be An Outcast in the Barbaric Archipelago”. lol XD (I might actually do a fanfic on this. Who knows?)
I hope you guys had fun reading this and learned a lot. It was definitely fun for me, and I enjoyed thinking up theories concerning Cannibal Isle and the Mazy Multitudes for this article.
Thank you guys for reading! Please reblog to share with others, and I hope to see you in the next article.
Long Live the Wilderwest!
— Companion of the Dragonmark
#companion-of-the-dragonmark#httyd#httyd books#httyd book articles#httyd book fandom#httyd book theories#httyd book headcanons#outlawry#outcast lands#alvin the treacherous#barbaric archipelago#httyd book series#cressida cowell#httyd book characters#httyd book spoilers#outcasts#outlaws#httyd book lore#httyd book history#pirates#mazy multitudes#cannibal isle#mainland#httyd book locations
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About me
Hi! Call me Pansy, or Bo.
I don't know what this blog will be yet, so it'll be a lot of reblogs for the time being. I'd like to make some friends here, though.
Content warning: brain damage, drug use, trauma, sex and rape mention, mental illness, er... politics? Also the DNI section includes a lot of difficult topics, I need to mention stuff to be sure to ward away assholes, sorry.
I'm mlm and polyamorous.
I'm a very gender little goblin man, I'm a drag artist with a couple shows under my belt. Said shows are very rare at the moment, so the drag I do the most is just dressing up lol. I'm really considering making a drag society/club in my local town- I'm Welsh, and re-learning the language since I went to live in England for a few years and completely forgot how to speak it.
My pronouns are he/him or xey/xem.
I have a degree in fine art, but got some brain damage (oops) which means my art production really slowed to a halt for the past few years. I still occasionally draw, paint and make jewellery though. At the moment, I'm too disabled to have any kind of job but I hope over time those issues will get better and I'll be able to support myself on my art again.
I have ADHDtism, here are some special interests and hyperfixations, some of which are active, some have passed and just left a lasting impact on my psyche:
goth music
nutrition, digestion, and diet culture (which is a scam btw)
art and art history
human anatomy
aquatic life, especially aquatic snails
religions, particularly shingon
sexual paraphilias, the more niche the better (that one lasted a decade) and I won't be posting about it here because honestly wtf is my brain
I write. So far this post has been a truly terrible showcase of my writing skills, because my brain is very blob-of-goo-sloshing-in-a-bone-fishbowl right now, but I used to produce mass amounts of poetry and I still write occasionally. Maybe I'll even post some of it from time to time, who knows!
I'm ok with some nsfw stuff, but I won't be reblogging or posting porn, and I don't want any of that on my dash please. PLEASE DON'T PUT PORN ON MY DASH.
I'm very mentally ill, but I'm reticent about it because I'm still feeling out the culture here. For now let's just say I have a lot of trauma in my past and sometimes my brain says "fuck you, lmao" and takes all my memories out of their filing cabinets and lights them on fire.
I'm also a drug addict, which exacerbates the amnesia, and a former alcoholic still wrestling with the bottle.
My politics: I'm very left leaning and very aware of societal issues. I'm somewhere in the arena of socialism and communism, and I've read enough theory to know I don't know how to correctly pick a precise label for my politics in that area. Initially while writing this post, the political section was super long and then I realized that this is not the point of this blog, so fuck that. You get the idea. I give a shit.
DNI:
porn blogs
SWERFs
transphobes, "gender critical" people, transmeds
aphobic people: if you think ace people are not discriminated against, you are included here, so DNI.
racists, nazis, islamaphobes, antisemites: for example if you think white people/culture are under attack, you are included in this section, so DNI.
discourse-havers: I mean the people who will bring the discourse to my dash. I mean a sensitive topic discussion which devolves into a screaming wall of reductive rhetoric and contrived logic where everyone who disagrees in any way is a bad person and people just start attacking each other for having the wrong opinion instead of having actual conversations about the subject at hand. I was on twitter for years, and I learned early on that The Discourse was never something to engage in, and I'm aware that it happens here too. Keep it off my dash. Thanx.
Pedos, MAPs, lolicons and their supporters.
ableists, anti-self-dx people. Do you think you can tell when people "aren't really" disabled, or that there are a hoards of people out there claiming to be disabled for the money? if so, DNI.
if your blog has a lot of self harm, gore or rape content
people who think doxxing is generally okay. I don't think it's okay in most situations
classists: Do you think poor people deserve to be poor, that they have done something to "deserve" poverty, that they should just spend their money better and stop being poor? do you never give money to homeless people because they'll "spend it all on drugs"? if yes to any of these, DNI.
Do you think people with eating disorders should just "eat a sandwich?" if yes, DNI. EDs are complex, I won't want to interact with people who belittle ED havers.
can't currently think of anything else to add here but yeah i think you get the idea.
See ya,
xxx
Bo / Pansy
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Hi again! This is long but I’m just really into your one shot and wanted to respond to the ramble it it’s ok ❤️
It’s fascinating to hear about your thought process as you wrote this one shot. Your care in psychoanalyzing the characters is what makes it feel so real! Also, if I may I add—as a fellow realist who spends a lot of her time daydreaming about fictional characters living out different scenarios, I totally get why this story needed to take place in a non-eclipse universe. 💔
Which takes me to the next point…that this one shot is a huge what if; as you said, what if Griffith met his equal and thus no longer feels the need to drag himself and everyone he supposedly holds dear down such a harrowing path? I love that you provide glimpses into Griffith’s true nature—both the good and the bad. I specifically keep rereading the parts where Griffith wonders why the princess matters to him so much and when he flat out admits he’s trying to figure her out. And the ending is just…ugh! My heart! The princess has such a hold on Griffith that I’m convinced there’s an actual chance that he won’t later devolve into a complete monster. I love that you humanize Griffith without making him OOC.
I adore Sadie being the one to talk sense into the princess, letting her know that she’s offering an escape if all goes wrong. I commend you for tying all the loose ends together while keeping it realistic :)
Lastly I want to say I fully understand why you’d have mixed feelings toward Griffith. I think many people feel the same. Sometimes you just want to see the good in others and I think that desire can grow when you encounter purely evil, depraved characters like Griffith. Just my thoughts! If you read all this, thank you for doing so! Please don’t feel pressured to respond quickly or at all. I’m just happy to chat with someone about the nuances of Griffith’s character.
Response below:
You are so right about the huge what-if part, anon. I'm a sucker for happy endings--or at least endings where everyone doesn't die. And for that to even be possible, any chances of the eclipse occurring have to be yeeted out the window.
Providing the different glimpses of Griffith stems from my inability to reconcile who I want him to be and who he is lol. I want him to be good, but I know he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice anything for his dreams (as proved by the eclipse). I also just wanted to toy with the idea of what it would be like to be loved by someone but never be their top priority. And could that be changed?
Sadie was a complete accident. I needed a reason for the reader to go into town and Sadie poofed into existence. She was meant to be like an NPC with minimal to no background/personality. But I love a good sassy friend who has your back. I thought that since the majority of the nobility disapprove of the reader's behaviour outside of formal settings, there should be someone who accepts all these aspects and even encourages them in a healthy way. Suffice it to say I love Sadie and her knee-cap-breaking gremlin energy.
I feel like the desire to see the good in evil/depraved characters reminds me of when people say 'I can fix them'. You want to see the good, and so you believe it exists and that you can bring it out of them. But I don't believe that people can change unless they decide for themselves. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much you love someone, that person won't change unless they really want to.
This was something I wanted to be careful about in this oneshot. I didn't want Griffith to 'change' solely because of love. I wanted it to be more nuanced than that. I don't think I got around to it in this oneshot. But hopefully, I can delve further into this whenever I write a continuation.
I think Griffith is a rational person, he's very calculative in everything he does. This is why I wanted him to start developing little impulses that throw him off and cause him to re-evaluate his situation. I think unconditional love would be a foreign concept to him, he would even deny its existence. That's where the reader comes in and shatters everything he believes in, and he realizes that there are other ways to achieve his goal. For once, there's someone he can't bear to trample as a stepping stone even if it moves him closer to his dreams. And this frustrates him to no end. I just think realizing what you wanted might not actually be what you want is such a neat trope. Because how do you account for another person in your future when you're so used to only considering yourself?
Feel free to send any more asks about Griffith or other characters I might know! It's always fun to analyze and see other people's interpretations. It also helps with characterization when writing them.
#marbleasks#Griffith ramble#I want to rotate Griffith in my brain like a 3d model#How can I break this man down#And reconstruct his character#How can I get him to want change#To want to become the good others see in him
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"Falling Into Fate" ~ D. Morgan
GIF by ropoto
Summary: When Y/N offers to be bait for an unsub, she never suspected it would be Derek Morgan who'd end up saving her. She also never suspected that he'd confess his love after doing so.
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader
Word Count: 1,854
Content Warning: mentions of phobias (related to the case), mentions of guns (related to the case), mentions of alcohol consumption
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Colleagues to Lovers
Extra Notes: Y/L/N = your last name ☆☆☆ as i so normally say, this isn't exactly canon to the episode, so please bare with me
Based On: the events of S3 E3 "Scared to Death"
Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!
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"Hey, I've got an idea," I spoke up, though I regretted doing so as soon as I did it.
"OK, shoot," Morgan replied.
"One of us could go undercover and book an appointment for exposure therapy," I suggested.
We were currently investigating a former psychiatrist turned “phobias therapist” who we’d pretty much confirmed to be killing his patients with whatever their worst fear was.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Spencer commented. “The last victim died the same day she met Dr. Howard, which means he’s devolving. He’d probably book your appointment today if you tried scheduling one.”
“Woah, wait a minute. Just because I suggested it, doesn’t mean I wanted to be the one to volunteer.”
“You did suggest it,” Hotch mentioned.
I fake pouted as I asked, “Why me?”
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got some sort of severe phobia,” Morgan teased.
I looked down at my hands, hoping I’d disappear in that moment. Yes, Derek, I do have some sort of severe phobia.
“Hold on, let me guess!”
“Derek Morgan, never tease a woman who has a gun on her side and one hidden on her ankle.”
“Ah, you’re no fun,” he replied, ruffling his hand through my hair.
“Well then, I guess it’s settled. Y/L/N, you’ll call him and set up an appointment. You’ll have a hidden earpiece so you can signal when you need us,” Hotch said, explaining the new plan.
“Can’t wait,” I sarcastically thought to myself.
☆☆☆
“So, can you tell me a little about yourself, Miss…” he asked, pausing while attempting to find my “name” on his chart, “Allison Curtis?”
“Well, I’m new in town,” I lied.
“How long have you been living in Portland?”
“I just moved in two weeks ago.”
“And what do you like to do for fun?” he questioned, grabbing his notepad from his desk.
“I recently started rock climbing just before I moved. I haven’t gone actual climbing yet, but I’ve been going indoor climbing almost every day since I got here,” I answered.
“Is there any particular reason you haven’t gone outdoor climbing yet?”
“That’s the thing. I love climbing, I love the thrill that it gives me. But I am deathly afraid of falling if I were ever to go outdoor rock climbing.”
This was all true. I went rock climbing every chance I got when I wasn’t working, and I was deathly afraid of falling and of heights.
“So, it sounds like you have a slight form of acrophobia, or the fear of heights,” he said, nodding and scribbling something onto his notepad.
I awkwardly chuckled, “Yep, that’s me to a T.”
“Well, lucky for you, I specialize in something called exposure therapy. I think we could have that fear cured in just one session. Two sessions, tops.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “How soon do you think we could start this… exposure therapy?”
“If you have the time, we could start it immediately. You’re my last patient of the day,” he answered. “We could do it on the roof since I have all my equipment for acrophobia therapy here with me.”
“Um, sure,” I hesitantly answered, standing up from my seat. “Actually, do you think I could use the bathroom before we start? Nervous stomach,” I apprehensively giggled.
“Of course. Third door on the right,” he said, showing me out of his office.
I speedwalked to the bathroom, grabbing my phone and dialing Morgan’s number.
He answered after just one ring. “‘Sup, scaredy cat?”
“Shut up,” I replied, rolling my eyes despite knowing he couldn't see it.
“What’s the plan?”
“He’s taking me up to the roof as soon as I finish up in the bathroom,” I explained.
“Heights?” he asked. “Really? Your biggest fear is heights?”
“Yes, Derek, it is. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well, considering you -”
“Yes, I know. I live on the fifth floor of my apartment complex and I fly practically everywhere. It’s weird, I know.”
He then changed the subject by asking, “Alright, what do you want us to do?”
“Ask Hotch. Tell him where we’re headed. He’ll know what to do.”
“Nope, Little Mama, this was your plan. I think you should lead,” he responded.
“Trust me, Morgan. You'll want Hotch to lead,” I practically begged. “I’m afraid any decision I make right now will be irrational.”
“Alright, girl. See you in a few,” he replied before hanging up.
I stood in the bathroom, practicing some breathing exercises and shaking my hands nervously in an (failed) attempt to calm myself. After a couple minutes of doing so, I walked out into the hallway, being greeted by Dr. Howard, who seemed a little too eager to be leading me to the roof of his practice.
He opened the door, allowing me to walk out first. I attempted to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, looking as far up as possible, so as to not make eye contact with the ground below.
"The key is to look down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up. Each time you look down, you increase the length of eye contact with the ground."
I exhaled deeply, looking down at the ground for about ten seconds. I looked back up, backing away from the edge.
"It's OK," he reassured me, nudging me back toward the edge of the roof.
I pretended to scratch my ear, but in reality, I was hitting the button on my earpiece to signal to the rest of the team that it was "go time."
Just then, I saw Morgan, Emily, and Hotch walk around the corner of the building, revealing themselves to him.
"Stanley Howard! We need you to let the lady go!" Morgan shouted through the megaphone.
"Why should I?" he asked, inching closer towards me.
"Stan, we're gonna capture you either way!"
"Not gonna happen."
Suddenly, I felt a force against my back. It wasn't until I heard someone yell, "Somebody catch her!" that I realized he'd pushed me. It felt like my life was in slow motion for a moment, like all there was was me and the clouds in the sky.
In the midst of falling, I heard a gunshot, which I presumed was aimed at Stan. I should've known that the bastard would go out in a "blaze of glory".
Just then, I felt some strong arms below me. "How did I even survive that?" I thought to myself.
"Hey, shh, it's OK, sweet girl. I gotchu," Morgan whispered, his words running together.
I looked up at him through worried eyes. I knew I was incapable of speaking from the amount of adrenaline running through my body, so I opted for a thankful smile that I could barely form.
☆☆☆
"You sure you're OK?" Derek asked, refusing to leave the emergency room cubicle I was currently sitting in.
"I'm fine. It's just a sprained wrist, I'm not gonna die," I told him. When I'd landed in his arms, somehow I'd managed to sprain my wrist. Though, I was glad that was the worst of my damage.
"You almost did, though. That's why I'm worried," he replied.
"I'm OK, really. Go, they need you at the station."
"No, they don't. Hotch told me to stay and take care of you."
I gave him a face that said, "Did he really?"
"OK, maybe I volunteered to stay with you because I wanted to make sure you're fine."
"I'm fine! They told me I'd be good to go as soon as I finished up the paperwork. If they ever bring it," I said, my last statement filled with annoyance.
He stood from his seat, an annoyed look on his face as he said, "Uh, no. Hold on a sec."
Just then, he exited the cubicle through the curtain divider.
"Derek!" I whisper-shouted.
"Uh, nurse! Where is Miss Y/L/N's paperwork?! She almost just got killed and you're gonna force her to sit here in a stuffy emergency room?"
I face palmed, not even that surprised by his actions.
He rounded the corner about thirty seconds later, holding a folder in his hand. "Paperwork time."
"Why are you so persistent?" I giggled.
"Just born that way, I guess, baby girl," he answered. "You want me to fill it out for you?"
"Luckily you sprained my non-dominant arm so I can still somewhat function. Thanks anyway, though."
He held his hands up in surrender before sitting down in the chair across from me.
I started filling out my paperwork, though my mind was clouded with thoughts about Derek's behavior throughout the day. Even despite his teasing in the beginning, he'd been caring throughout the whole day.
"Hey, Morgan," I called, looking up from my papers.
"Yeah?" he asked, looking up from the magazine he'd been reading.
"Is there any reason you wanted to volunteer to take care of me?" I asked point blankly.
"You want the truth?"
"Humor me. Tell me the lie first and then the truth," I answered, my voice laced with a chuckle.
"The lie was gonna be that Hotch has been on my case all day because I'm behind on my papers back at work," he chuckled, "Though I guess that isn't technically a lie. But the truth? Because I love you, sweet girl. And I wanna spend as much time with you as I can. Especially because I thought I was gonna lose you today."
The word "love" caught me off guard. Way off guard. Had he always been this obvious or was I just oblivious to his attempts at telling me? For a moment, I wondered, maybe it had just been fate that the arms I landed in belonged to him.
"You love me?"
"Yeah, I do. I wish I could've told you under different circumstances, but it's the truth. I do love you, Y/N."
I smiled, knowing my exact response, something I'd been meaning to tell him for a while. "I love you too, Derek Hank Morgan. And I don't know why it took me so long to say it verbally."
"Well, that means there's only one thing to do, right?"
He stood and walked over to me, leaning down close to my face.
Was he about to -
He leaned in even closer, and I just knew he was about to place his lips on mine.
Until he didn't.
"We should go on a date when we get home," he whispered.
When he leaned back, I raised an eyebrow and scoffed in disbelief. "OK, first of all, no one likes a tease, Derek Morgan."
"Ooh, I like that. It's sexy when you say my whole name," he commented with a smirk.
"Second of all, why wait? I hear there's a great bar on the plane."
And so, our plane ride home was spent sharing some cocktails in the extra room of the jet, only occasionally being interrupted by Hotch or JJ spying on us. Sure, I told him this didn't count as our first date, but I was totally counting it as our first date.
Maybe it had all just been fate after all...
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
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iv. couch.
read on ao3
To Lena: r u busy??? U didnt answer my calls. Dinner later?
To Lena: my place.
To Lena: Or yours! Can totally go to urs. If u want.
To Lena: Lena????
To Lena: where are u??
To Lena: Answer my calls
To Lena: Pls?
Kara rounds the corner of her hallway, keys bitten, dangling from her lips, as she types with both hands. Her 67th text message of the day to an MIA Lena Luthor sent. She fails to notice the creature lurking around the front of her door; dark fur shining under the cheap LED lights of Kara’s corridor.
She’s still deeply absorbed in her phone with worry, in the middle of jamming her keys in with one hand, when something furry brushes against her legs and Kara yelps.
She pulls the knob clean out of the wood in shock, her phone dropping to the floor loudly, the cat doing a duet with her with a startled yowl of her own.
Heart hammering and adrenaline racing, Kara looks down and sees the cat for the first time.
“Oh! Oh!” she gasps, “I didn’t see you there, buddy. I’m sorry for startling you!! I didn’t mean it.”
The door knob clatters loudly to the ground as it falls out of her grasp. And Kara sheepishly feels guilty for the hole in her door. But the cat meows loudly, catching her attention, as if in response to her apology.
She crouches down low, and reaches out a hand to touch the furball. She snaps a quick pic, sends it to Lena and pockets her phone.
To Lena: KITTY!!
“Oh, oh come here,” she coos, “where’s your collar? How’d you get here huh?”
The cat reminds her of Streaky. The first stray who ever took to her kindly. Although upon closer inspection, Kara realizes this one has striking emeralds for eyes, Streaky’s eyes were a more softer blue.
The cat surprisingly seems friendly, immediately leaning into Kara’s touch. Nosing at the inside of Kara’s wrist and it’s such a familiar gesture but she can’t seem to remember why.
And...oh, a small rumbling echoes through Kara’s palm!
Oh, they’re purring!
Kara doesn’t know how long she stays there crouched low exactly, but eventually, she stands up, takes her hand away, and picks up the damaged doorknob.
“Well, time for you to go home now, buddy,” she tells them, giving their head one last pat before dusting off her hands on her jacket.
“Go on, shooo. Shoo. Go home. I’m sure your human is looking for you.”
But the cat remains unmoving. It looks like they’ve decided to sit firmly in front of Kara’s doorstep, casually licking a paw, as if waiting for Kara to open her door.
“Are you actually waiting for me to open my door?” Kara makes a mental note to thank Rao that none of her neighbors can see her trying to hold a proper conversation with a cat.
“Look, kitty,” she says firmly, “I’m not your human.”
The cat just blinks owlishly at her. Eyes too green, too intelligent and-
Kara makes up her mind.
She turns her face skywards, takes a deep breath (This will probably backfire, she already knows. But she's always had a soft spot for strays.) and then she pushes her door wide open.
The cat races inside, cutting through Kara’s legs and almost tripping her.
“Well, somebody’s excited,” Kara mutters under her breath, she watches the cat head for her living room couch; watches as they pause all of a sudden, changes course and jumps onto Kara’s coffee table instead.
Where the cat then proceeds to knock down everything in close vicinity, even the picture frame of her and Lena together.
“Hey! No! Bad kitty-”
But the cat is already hopping down from her pedestal, landing on the frame directly.
And then things get weird.
The cat proceeds to stomp all over it, meows loud, like really loud; insanely loud for a cat their size.
Her paw seems to be almost pointing? At the other person in the frame.
“I-” Kara seems taken aback by the bizarre behavior, sure she knows cats are vastly different from dogs, but this…
This is just weird.
The cat’s meowing only seems to get louder.
How you land yourselves in these situations, Kara. I really just don’t know, at this point. She can almost hear Alex say.
“What are you- Are you- are you pointing? That’s- That’s Lena, yeah. That’s my best friend.”
At that, the cat seems to vibrate. They start clawing at Kara’s pant leg, meowing and meowing and meowing—
And then it hits her.
"-but it turns out that she’s a witch. And apparently, so am I."
The green, green eyes.
A pink nose nuzzling against her wrist.
“Lena?”
******
“Oh, Rao! Lena you’re a cat! What happened?! Oh, no, baby what did you do?”
Lena-
Lena The Cat—and okay, so she’s still wrapping her head around that one—just stays silent. She’s sitting on her lap, looking regal than any cat has any right to be. A judgmental look in her eyes.
Lena’s a cat. Cat’s can’t speak. Can’t answer Kara’s questions.
“Right. Sorry. Only meow,” Kara murmurs, embarrassed. For some reason even in cat form Lena manages to be intimidating.
“Okay so, uh d-does that mean you still understand me? Two meows for yes. One meow for no.”
Kara gets two meows.
“Okay, cool, cool. Great. You can still understand me, that's good.” Kara runs a hand down her spine, “Gosh, your fur is just so soft.”
She hears Lena give a small growl, body tensing, “Right. Right. Sorry. Not the time for pets.” Kara retracts her hand away.
“Uhm, so next question then, I guess? D-did you become a cat this morning? Were you testing out your uhm...gift?”
Lena meows twice. Kara nods, clenching and unclenching her fist underneath her chin. Fingers itching to run themselves through Lena’s soft fur again. Lena seems to sense this, and nuzzles her face into Kara’s hand, bumps against her repeatedly.
“Really?” Kara double-checks, giddy. If she were human Kara bets Lena would be rolling her eyes like she always does when Kara does something particularly dorky, but she just pushes her head firmer against Kara’s hand and meows twice.
“So uhm,” she starts, cautiously, noting Lena’s increasing purr, “is there like a spellbook for this or something? Something that can help you transform back?
Lena meows yes.
“Is it in The Tower or back at your place?”
There are no responses.
“Sorry, sorry lemme rephrase, is it in The Tower?”
She gets two consecutive meows.
Okay, to The Tower it is.
******
“Are you going to tell me why you’re cradling a cat in your cape or??” Alex raises a brow at her, a hand on her hip, left foot tapping impatiently. Her sister was heading out for the day, it looks like. It was just tough luck that Supergirl landed one minute before the elevator took Alex.
Crap. Now they have to explain. They didn’t talk about this. Lena still hasn’t told her if it was okay to tell people about her gift.
“I-I rescued it,” Kara says.
Well, that isn’t so far from the truth, right? She stares at the bundle in her arms, Lena the traitor staying silent all the while—green eyes shining all innocent at Kara.
Alex’s stares intensifies.
“From a tree,” Kara flounders, and Lena The Cat has the audacity to yawn, squirm and jump away from her arms. She lands gracefully, tail swishing up in the air and heads straight for the lab.
Alex eyes the cat suspiciously before turning back to Kara. She jabs a finger to her chest. “It better not have any fleas. It better not touch my training mat.”
“She won’t.”
Alex just shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grabs her helmet and walks to the elevator.
Before she goes though, Alex says, “You know, this is gonna sound weird, but I swear I think I saw that same cat slinking out of The Tower earlier this morning.”
“Alex, she’s literally a black cat. There are hundreds of black cats in the city.”
“You're being weirdly defensive about this. Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not.”
Alex seems like she wants to say more, but the elevator dings, and she’s never been more grateful that Kelly makes Alex pick her up from work. Alex huffs out breath, before conceding and disappearing into the lift.
******
The camera flash is what gets Kara busted.
But is it really her fault if she walked in on a cute kitty, hunched over, meowing adorably, trying to flip over the pages of a thick spellbook, with her teeny-tiny bean paws?
Lena hisses at her, teeth-bared and fur puffy.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you were just really, really, really cute okay?” She walks closer to the desk, carefully lifts a hand and scratches Lena behind the ear.
The hissing slowly devolves into purring, and Kara grins triumphantly. Lena lets herself be picked up after a few moments, Kara leafing through the pages for her.
“So, found anything yet?” She asks, cradling Lena close to her chest. A warm weight on Kara’s arms, and as much as she wants to get her real Lena back, she also isn’t too eager on giving up this version anytime soon. Then again, Kara thinks, it would be impossible for her to give up any version of Lena Luthor.
“Spell? Charm? Anything? Do you need to make a potion? Are we gonna get to make a potion? Oh, oh do you need a wand? Do you have a wa-”
Kara’s words get muffled as two black paws press against her lips. Lena’s green eyes narrowing at her. She meows at Kara. Loudly.
“Mkay, mkay. Shut up. Got it.”
Lena removes her paws, and Kara makes a gesture of zipping her lips together. This seems to appease Lena enough because the next second, a pink tongue darts out and she...licks Kara's nose.
“Did you- did you just lick me?” Kara gasps out.
Lena doesn’t even acknowledge her with a meow, just turns away and jumps out of her arms again. Before Kara can do anything about it though, her phone rings.
The screen lighting up with Andrea’s name.
“Danvers, I’ve got a story for you.”
******
“Alex, please, I’ll be quick. I promise. I’ll only be three hours at the most. Please just look after her,” she pleads, pouting and puppy eyes in full power.
It also helps that the cat burrito in her cape looks to be cooperating. Lena The Cat staring at Alex with wide round eyes.
Apparently, some governor was found dead downtown, and now Andrea wants her on the scene. She can’t just leave Lena all alone in The Tower. No matter how hard Lena’s been protesting, this is brand new territory for both of them. Nobody knows the extent of Lena’s powers.
Point is, Kara would feel a lot better if she were to leave Lena under the care of someone she trusts. Even if said someone, accuses Lena of being a stray with fleas. It's still better than leaving Lena all on her own.
“Ugh.” Alex groans and Kara knows she’s won. “If this cat causes trouble I will throw it out the window, Kara.”
“No!” Kara yells, distressed. “Don’t do that. She’ll behave. She promises.”
She puts her hand under Lena’s arms and raises her up to eye level—Simba style. “You promise to be good for Alex, don’t you?”
All she gets is a lot of squirming and screaming, there were also a lot of attempts at scratching Kara’s nose.
“See?” Kara says, chuckling nervously. “She’s telling you she’s good.”
Alex looks skeptical, her arms crossed against her chest.
Kara sets her down on the couch, and crouches down low.
She tries to pet her head, but Lena bites at her finger, she catches her teeth on the skin of her supersuit’s thumb slot. She bites deeper, her teeth accomplishing nothing but a few dents.
And oh, Rao she thinks she’s such a feral little cat but her pink adorable gummy snarl says otherwise.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispers, careful not to let Alex hear. “And then we’ll figure it out later, okay? The safest place for you right now is to be with Alex.”
She really doesn’t want to go, and based on Lena’s protests she doesn’t want Kara to go either. But well, Andrea had finally threatened to fire her if she disobeyed...which is...fair.
She’s aware she’s been doing a less than stellar job at being a journalist lately. Rao, what an understatement. This is basically her make it or break it.
“Look, I’ll be quick, promise. Be good to Alex,” Kara murmurs. She presses a kiss on Lena’s furry forehead. Lena finally unclenches her jaw and lets Kara go. The little whine she lets out, letting Kara know that she knows the battle’s lost.
“Both of you, be good,” Kara tells them sternly. “Alex, please don’t yeet my cat out of the window.”
Alex shrugs, staring at the cat with suspicion. “I make no promises.’
Lena is staring at Alex just as hostile. Great. They both deserve each other.
Kara sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least she tried.
******
She gets a very angry Alex Danvers on the line, right after she’s finished talking to some sources. It’s nighttime now, and when she checks her watch—yep, she’s left Lena in Alex’s care for more than six hours.
Crap.
“Hey, Al—”
“KARA IF YOU DON’T PICK UP THIS THIS THIS GODDAMNED HAIRBALL RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT EVER AGAIN.”
There is loud meowing, and then, “What the- Get off! Get off me right no-”
The line clicks dead.
Kara Danvers quickly changes into an alley, manages to break the sound barrier.
******
It’s Kelly who opens the door.
“Hey, Kara,” she greets her. Kara is impatiently rocking on her heels, trying to peer past Kelly’s shoulders.
The place was quiet; ridiculously quiet, and Kara feels fear swoop in her belly.
“Please, tell me my cat is still alive,” Kara bursts out, Kelly just gives her a pained smile and oh, no, oh no.
She muscles her way past Kelly to a brooding Alex on the couch.
Lena is nowhere to be seen.
“Alex, Alex where’s my cat? Where is she? Where did you put her?”
Alex finally looks up at her, Kara taking notice of the red marks on her arm.
Oh no, Lena, what did you do?
“Calm down, I didn’t throw the little demon away. She’s-" Alex sing-songs before finishing, "on time-out.”
“Time-out?” Kara asks, voice shaking. Rao, does she really want to know.
Alex takes too long to answer, taking a swig of her beer first before pointing to a corner in the living room.
And there, she spots it.
It, being a small pile of laundry on the floor, next to an upside down hamper. A big white hamper housing one Lena Luthor. There's a crude cardboard sign stuck on it; "Kitty Jail". Alex has also stacked a few encyclopedia on top of it, no doubt an attempt to keep Lena from escaping.
“Oh! Oh, Lena!”
Kara superspeeds her way and scoops Lena up, the cat meowing immediately and curling into Kara’s chest.
“You named the cat after Lena?!”
Crap.
Kara turns around slowly, “Uhm yeah?”
Alex just shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Her eyes reminded me of Lena, okay?!” Kara yells defensively, pressing tiny kisses onto Lena’s fur.
“I’m sorry that Alex has been such a meanie to you," she coos, "I know you didn’t deserve it, baby."
Alex seems to perk up at that, because she raises up from the couch. “That,” Alex jabs a finger in their direction, Kara cradles Lena protectively, “That baby ruined my couch and she so totally deserves all the mean! All the mean in the world, Kara!”
Lena hisses in her arms.
“No, no. That’s not true. Lena is baby and she’s perfect and you’re just a meanie.”
“She ruined my upholstery! She left hair all over the place and that’s not even to mention the scratching!”
“Because you were mean to her!”
Alex scoffs, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.
“Get out,” Alex says, her brows pinching comically, “Get out of my apartment before that little devil causes more damage.”
“Gladly,” Kara says, and Lena meows her assent. They make their way past Alex, Kara unaware that Lena has stuck out her little tongue at Alex over her shoulder.
“And she’s not a little devil!” Kara calls out.
Alex slams the door in her face.
******
That evening, Kara pores over a thick spellbook, eyes swimming with Latin symbols with a purring machine on her lap.
By midnight, Kara has managed to pass out on her couch, a black cat curled on her chest.
The spellbook lay open on her coffee table, forgotten.
******
The first sight that greets Kara when she wakes up are green eyes.
Green human eyes.
And then it hits her.
“Lena!”
The spell had blessedly wore off by morning, and Kara’s never been more glad to see the sunlight lighting up Lena’s face.
For a moment, Kara’s assaulted with the mental image of laying in a pool of sunlight with a black cat stretching leisurely next to her.
“Good morning,” Lena purrs, and oh Rao, that sound is much, much better than her meowing.
“You’re back!” Kara gasps in awe.
“I’m back,” she whispers, she’s still draped fully over Kara on the couch. A blanket covering them both.
“Rao, I missed you.” A palm comes up to cup her cheeks, Lena automatically nuzzling into the inside of her wrist.
“Mm, I missed me, too,” Lena tells her, face breaking into a small smile. Kara traces her fingers up and down Lena’s spine. Oh, how she’s missed touching Lena’s skin.
Wait-
Skin.
Is she-
“Lena,” Kara begins, swallowing. Her nerves not going unnoticed.
Lena raises a brow at her. “Kara?”
“Are you- uhm- ah. Are you naked right now?”
Lena’s eyes light up like a cat’s and Kara knows she’s in trouble.
“Mm. It seems that I am,” Lena says, and all Kara can do is gulp.
“What are you gonna do about it?”
special shoutout to @mike-wachowski, @sexybread-png and @thebreakfastgod for their cat expertise without whom this silly little fic would not be written.
#catto!lena#COME GET YOUR CATTO!LENA CONTENT HERE!#I AM WELL AWARE HOW SELF-INDULGENT THIS IS AND HOW MILES AWAY IT IS FROM THE PROMPT BUT YEAH#oh oh and p.s yes they did have sex on that couch right after.#supercorptober 2021#the reckless writer writes#a supercorp ficlet of sorts#if u see a typo no u didnt#supercorp
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Alright, just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable! Oh and, you can choose if this is pseudo or normal (?) incest. But I’d like to request something where Bakugou walks in on his younger brother (male reader, and they’re both over 18, but they still live with their parents) masturbating with his shirt on. (probably that skull t-shirt) Then Bakugou fucks him (possibly overstimulation) and Y/n has to worry about keeping his moans in because their mother is downstairs. (Also this might be stupid but- I don’t mind degradation, but if you decide to write it then maybe not too harsh? I’m sensitive atm lol)
Thank you, <3
oh i actually like the premise of this! this is soft big bro bakugou hours
pairing: older brother bakugou x little brother male reader
content warnings: incest, masturbation, praise kink, big brother kink, secret sex, overstimulation, excessive use of the word “nii-san”
word count: 1.6k
You’ve always loved your brother. Well, maybe you love him too much. You’re not sure of the “normal” amount of love you should give a sibling, but you’re pretty sure you’re past that.
It might be from the fact that you think you don’t think he loves you at all- in any way. Bakugou has always been an aggressive person, you know that. He treats everyone roughly, even the people he cares about. You should be used to it. Still, it hurts. You didn’t inherit the tough skin your brother did and you’re sure that he thinks you’re weak for it.
Your yearning for your brother to care for you devolved into something else. That brotherly love was replaced with something else and it’s made your life harder. It makes his harshness hurt more than it used to. All you want is for him to tell you that you did good or that he cares about you in some way.
You have to make up for the lack of love somehow.
Clad in only your brother’s shirt, just slightly larger than what you wear, you immerse yourself in the ways you wish your brother treated you. Maybe him fucking you isn’t exactly how you should be imagining your brother, but it’s what you’re doing. The scent of your brother surrounding you as you stroke yourself and thrust two fingers inside yourself is more than enough to make up for your lack of love. At least, for now it is.
“N-nii-san... Please, Nii-san...”
Your whimpers and whines are muffled, as quiet as they can be. You want to cry out and be as loud as your heart desires, but your mom and brother are downstairs. There’s no way you can disturb them. There’s no way you can let them see you like this.
“What do you want Nii-san to do, hm?”
For a moment, you think the gravelly voice of your older brother is just in your head. It’s the click of the lock on your bedroom door that makes you realize it definitely isn’t just your imagination.
Bakugou leans against the wall. He stares down at you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. Is he disgusted? Does he want to hit you? Will he ridicule you? You have no idea what he’s going to do.
What you don’t expect is for him to begin stripping. The moment he tosses his shirt at you, there’s a second where you stop functioning. Your brother doesn’t care. He continues to strip in front of you. Each article of clothing tossed somewhere in your room. The blond ends up leaning over you, tugging at his shirt. Even if it’s baggy on you, it doesn’t cover the erection you’re trying to hide from him.
A predator-like grin is on his face as he looks down at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say something. Wait- he is.
“I... I want Nii-san to...” Now that he’s here in front of you, you can’t seem to get your words out. He slides his hand under your shirt and goes straight for your chest. A sharp pinch to your nipple is a warning to tell him. “Please fuck me, Nii-san...”
His grin only grows wider. The hand that was teasing your chest goes straight to your cock, pumping it a few times. Bakugou watches how you tense and buck into his hand as he does so. You’re so sensitive, so eager.
“I know that’s not all you want. I know what you’ve been doing, I’m not an idiot. You steal my clothes and I hear you moaning my name when I pass by your room... Tell me everything you want your dear Nii-san to do.”
The rumble in his voice goes straight to your dick. You whimper and grab his wrist. He has to stop before you cum. You don’t want to cum so soon.
But you can’t answer him. You’re already doing your best to keep yourself quiet, the hand not holding onto your brother’s hand over your mouth to muffle any noise. The blond pulls your hand away and stills his own. The way he stares at you make you wonder if he wants this just as much as you do.
“My... I want Nii-san to suck my...”
“You’re way more shy than I thought you’d be.” As soon as you say it, he’s sliding down between your legs. Pinching your thighs and grinning up at you, Bakugou gives a kiss to the shaft of your cock. “I’ve been holding back all this time. I wondered if this was just a phase but it seems like you really want me, huh?”
“Yes...” The way you answer him so eagerly makes his own cock twitch in anticipation. “I always feel like you hate me...”
“Hate you? What kinda idiot- hey, I don’t hate you. Let me make up for all of that.” Those are his last words before he licks a stripe up your cock and takes it into his mouth. It’s hot and feels better than you could ever imagine. You hold your hand to your mouth, the other tangling into your brother’s hair. Keeping yourself from bucking into his face is nearly impossible. You’re lucky that Bakugou has your hips pinned to the bed.
He’s got your whole dick in his mouth like it’s some sort of candy. His tongue wrapping around the head and the groans vibrating against it- wait, is he enjoying this? Another groan when he takes it all down and it hits the back of his throat confirms it. That combination of knowing he wants to do this to do is what helps you over the edge.
You push his head down as much as you can and cum in his mouth. Bakugou swallows it all before pulling up, wiping the sweat off his brow. That grin returns and he laughs, “What next?”
What he doesn’t expect is for you to spread your ass open for him. He stares at your hole; it’s already prepared, twitching in anticipation. There’s a moment of pause before he dives in, lapping at it. His tongue slips in far easier than he thought it would, but he doesn’t take it for granted. Bakugou is happy to eat your ass. He can taste something. So you use flavored lube. It’s a light taste of caramel, probably because of the smell his quirk gives his sweat. He doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, you using something specifically because it reminds you of him only turns him on more.
Small, muffled whimpers come from you as he eats you out. After cumming, you’re sensitive, far too much to be touched in such a delicate place. But your big brother doesn’t give a damn. He eats you out like a man starved, hiking your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. All you can manage to do is squirm and whimper.
Bakugou keeps it up into you’re hard again. The second your cock begins to come to life again, he pulls his head back and lips his licks.
“Caramel flavored, huh?” He chuckles when you look away. “You really want me, Y/N. Want your Nii-san so bad that you need to have lube that smells like him. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a dildo around here.”
The way your gaze snaps back to him makes him laugh. Red eyes take in your flushed, embarrassed face, the way you squirm and whimper because of him.
“Nii-san, please...” You’ve moved your hand away from your mouth. “I need your cock... Please...”
Once again, that predatory grin appears. He keeps your legs on his shoulders, practically bending you in two. His cock, hot and heavy, slides against your ass. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize how big it actually is. It’s no surprise that it matches his proportions, but it’s just more than you expected.
“Be good for your Nii-san and let me fuck you good.”
That’s all he says before he sinks his cock deep inside you. His lips slam against yours to muffle your cries as you adjust to his size. He stretches you out more than your fingers ever could. It’s uncomfortable as he bottoms out. But he’s kind to you and waits for you to adjust, absorbing your whimpers. They’re delicious and he can’t get enough of them.
When your whimpers turn into small moans, he begins. The first few thrusts are soft, gentle. Bakugou is working you up. He knows how big he is and he doesn’t want to make this horrible for you. He pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.
“You’re so tight. This ass is all for me, isn’t it? Been dreaming of having your ass wrecked by your big, strong Nii-san. Must feel good.” He cups your face and wipes the stray tears. “Do you feel good? You feel so good for your Nii-san.”
“Nii-san feels good... Feels really good...” You let out a moan and immediately shut your mouth after. The two of you stop to make sure Mitsuki didn’t hear before Bakugou shoves his fingers in your mouth. They muffle your moans just enough. With that, the pace gets harder and more intense. The blond watches your eyes roll back into your skull when he hits you just right. His cock hits your prostate in the best way and he loves the way you get tighter when he does.
You cumming so quickly is what he expects. The overstimulation, even after one orgasm, is just too much for you to bear. You bite down on his fingers as you do, ass tightening to an almost painful grip around him. But he’s not done. Even after he forces you to ride your climax so intensely, he keeps going.
“We’re not done yet. Nii-san’s gonna make you feel real good tonight. I’ll make up for all the times you felt like I hated you. And,” he laughs as his gaze goes down to the black shirt you’re wearing, “I’ll let you keep this shirt since you love it so much.”
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Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.
Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).
*
“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”
The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.
“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”
“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”
She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.
“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”
“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”
“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”
Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.
“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”
The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.
“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”
He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.
Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.
“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”
“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.
“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.
“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.
“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”
Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.
“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”
“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”
“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.
“Why is that?”
“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”
“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”
“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.
By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.
“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”
“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.
“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”
“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”
“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.
“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”
“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.
“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”
A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.
“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.
“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.
“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”
Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.
“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”
“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”
“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”
“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”
“Martin?”
“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.
“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.
“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.
“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.
“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”
“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”
Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.
“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”
He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.
“Because of me.”
“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.
But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?
“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”
Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.
“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”
Jon flinches.
“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”
“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”
“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.
“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”
Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..
They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.
Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.
“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.
“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”
“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.
“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”
“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.
“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”
“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”
“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”
The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.
“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”
Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.
“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”
“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.
“No matter what.”
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please can u do super fluffy blurb or oneshot about boyfriend tom coming home after a long time shooting and the reader and him are both crying and hugging and are just so in love :,)
Home Again || T.H.
Warnings: None just pure tooth rotting fluff
Word CountL 1,159
You hadn’t seen Tom in months, the lack of his presence weighing heavy on you as all you wanted was to be held by him, to be in his arms and loved wholly and truly but that was not something that you could have, Tom was thousands of miles away from you, doing the thing that he loved, yet that didn’t make it any easier for either of you. The time without Tom had extended so many days that your body had become accustomed to sleeping without Tom's arms around your waist, something that you never thought you would ever be comfortable with and you truly weren’t, it had just become a little easier, something that Tom knew and didn’t love. Tom never wanted you to sleep bad, he never wanted you to be uncomfortable but when you stopped mentioning that the bed felt wrong without him, it was something so bittersweet for him, he wanted you to need him, wanted you to want him, and he knew that you did but sometimes it is hard to grapple that someone could live just as happily without you as they did with you. The thing that Tom didn't know was that every morning you still reached out for his body, your hand disappointingly landing on his cold and untouched pillow, the smell of him having faded long ago, and there was no other way to describe the sensation of waking up without him than as being incorrect.
There was one good thing about distance, reunions, there truly was nothing like reuniting with the man that you loved after he had been away for so long, it was something so purely filled with love and adoration, a feeling that bubbled inside of you as you stood at the gate Tom was supposed to be coming out of, dressed still in your pajamas as you had hauled yourself out of bed far earlier than you would have liked, but it was worth it to be there to pick Tom up, it was necessary for both your hearts to see each other as soon as it was physically possible, if you could wait at the end of the of the jet way you would. If this were any other moment then you would be absentmindedly scrolling through your phone to pass the time but this wasn’t any other time, you were waiting for the love of your life and you were doing it attentively, watching the doorway with eager eyes until you finally say your boy. He was dressed in his flying clothes, sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt, shrouded in a sweatshirt, he looked adorably sleepy, his hair was ruffled and he just looked adorable. The sight of him made you freeze, it had been so long without him that finally having him with you seemed nearly unreal, something that you would dream while clutching his pillow to your chest. Everything started moving again when he looked up, his eyes locking on you and a massive smile spreading across his cheeks as he picked up his pace, taking to a slow jog as you broke into a full sprint running towards him.
“Tommy!” you cried out as you engulfed him in your arms, hands flattening on his muscular back as you pulled him as close as possible, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as his fece squared up in front of yours, he was silent but there were tears shimmering in his eyes as he examined your face, drawing his hands from your back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he brought his lips to yours muttering your name softly and over and over again as if he is used to having it roll of off his tongue once again. His lips were soft on yours, a familiar sensation that you had missed so much more than you could manage to put into words.
“Y/n” he uttered once again as he pulled away from your lips, cheeks soaked with saline as he choked on your name.
“Tom” you blubbered out, how long had you been crying? It didn’t matter, you were with Tom once again and that is all that mattered.
“Can we go home, Y/n, I just wanna go home with you, baby” he was clutching onto you, hands holding so tight as if he didn’t you would slip away and he would be halfway around the world, as far as possible from you, just him and his broken heart.
“Yes, Tommy, yes let's go home, let's go home and go to bed” you assured, your hand clutching his cheeks and wiping away the tears as they fell, his hands doing the same for you.
The whole car ride home your hands were intertwined over the center console, the only words uttered were soft assurances of love accompanied by gentle squeezes of the hand, sometimes devolving into the both of you rapidly trading squeezes back and forth until you fell into giggles. You exchanged kisses at stop signs and red lights, any opportunity.
Tom dropped his bags on the floor as soon as you passed the threshold, taking your hand in his and leading you up to your shared bedroom, pulling you down into your unmade bed(you had left in a rush to make sure you got to the airport on time), his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close to him, the contentment pulling a deep sigh from his chest as you nuzzle against him slightly.
“The bed wasn’t the same without you” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you inhaled his scent. “Don’t sleep well without you” your words had Tom confused, hadn’t you said it had gotten better?
“I thought you said you were sleeping better” his hand brushed lightly up and down your back.
“I know what I said” you whispered, slightly ashamed of what you were admitting “I lied because I didn’t want you to worry and feel bad about being gone”
“I don’t like it when you lie to me” he pouted at you, poking your cheek
“I don’t like it when you’re gone” you sigh, cuddling deep into his chest, lips brushing over his neck.
“Then come with me next time” he offered, a suggestion that you had both played with before but decided it was just too much, but after this stretch of being away maybe the distance was the thing that was too much.
“Okay, I will come with you next time” you said it so casually that it made Tom tuck his chin back in shock, looking down at you to find you already looking back at him.
“Really?” his hand brushed over your cheek as he waited for your response.
“Yes, that whole ‘distance makes your heart grow fonder’ thing is bullshit” you affirmed, your words making him laugh as you both fade to sleep, happily in each other's arms once again.
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ooh new blog, hi donut!! i love ur writing so far. having c!dream brain rot atm... maybe when dream breaks out of prison he visits reader and it’s just nice “i missed you” sex,,, headfull
also, 💌 anon perhaps ?
ahhhh, tysm! glad you enjoy it and its rlly nice than you decided to let me know what you think about my writing! <3
and like actually 80-90% of my simping is solely for c!dream so i gotta say, BIIIIIIG fucken same. the c!dream brain rot is deep and real. he’s godawful and i love him deeply. i watch him fuck things up im like <3 <3 <3 cute voice go brrrrrr
anyways there were a few different directions i could imagine for this scenario...
like, either him roughly taking out all his pent-up frustrations on you, him being incredibly touchstarved all whiny and submissive - happy with anything you’ll give him, or it being uncharacteristically tender and loving.
you said ‘nice’ so i’m going w/ the third one. sorry if im barking up the wrong tree here!
edit: i wrote that intro before i wrote the piece itself and i meant for it to be tender and loving but its more like tender and angsty im-
oh! and psst- that emoji is so cute. great choice. you can indeed be 💌 anon! <3
(long NSFW elaboration under the cut. i uh. really went buck-fuckin-wild here. oh my god......)
sometimes people wonder whether or not there’s a person behind that smile.
that mask he’s never seen without. represented by a smile. a mockery of any true expression of joy.
he’s done so many awful things. he’s hurt people. badly. it’s what landed him in that godforsaken prison in the first place. everywhere he goes, he leaves behind an indelible scar.
they could call him a god, or a man with the makings of the devil - or a million other names that lie in between - but you know better.
you know him.
there is a living, breathing human behind that mask and you know him well. you know him with your hands and your lips and your tongue. you know his breath and you’d know him without sight.
you’d know him to the ends of the earth.
so when you find him on your doorstep in the middle of the night - hazy in the moonlight - a part of you distantly wonders if you’re still asleep. but the other part just knows. there’s no mistake. he’s here.
your dream has come back to you, the way he always swore he would.
you’re not an idiot. you love him, but you could never believe blindly in him. you saw what he did. what he’s done. to agree with all of it... that’d make you naïve at best, a wild fanatic at worst.
even before all of… this, you had differing stances. your faith in him was always balanced.
this is one thing you never doubted from this stubborn, broken fool before you.
he’d always come back to you.
you reach out a hand towards him. you want to cradle his face, to make sure that he’s actually here in the flesh - because it doesn’t seem quite real yet - and he flinches reflexively. at this, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. still, he lets you touch him.
ushering him inside, quickly, quickly, to the privacy of the house, you’re thankful for the isolation of your home and the solitude of the night. if anybody saw you right now, housing him… it just doesn’t bear thinking about.
“dream,” you murmur. you have so much you need to talk about, but right now, nothing else has to be said.
your thumb brushes against a new crack in the surface of his ever-smiling mask, almost split in two now.
he’s not smiling.
fingertips trace every bump and divot you know so well, before slowly taking it off and discarding it on the table behind you.
he looks like fucking hell. you’ve certainly known him to get into scrapes and fights, and even yelled at him for his carelessness before,,, but this? this is something else entirely.
it’s the result of weeks upon weeks of senseless beatings - underfed and unhealing - never given the time or space to regen.
you want to touch him all over, to hold him together in your hands like some fragile thing, but you’re so, so afraid that he might’ve already broken.
neither of you have even attempted to breach the silence yet.
you lead him by the hand to the bed. for rest, is what you think, but he stoops down to tuck his face into neck and inhales, deeply, his hands creeping lower down the front of your body.
he breaks the silence first, deftly trading it for the quiet instead.
“please let me feel you...” his voice is barely a whisper, the sound a cracked, hoarse thing.
to touch another person kindly, after so long spent alone and in pain. to know that you’re still here, and that you haven’t left me. because i love you.
so many reasons and they all go unsaid.
still, you understand him.
clothes are peeled off and bodies are re-explored after so much time spent apart. his bare body’s on display in front of you, all long limbs and pale skin. what was previously smooth and soft now lays dry and cracked - marred with injury - before you.
his eyes won't meet yours. it's something he’s never done before in bed with you. another newly ingrained habit, like the flinch.
you wonder if he’s ashamed right now; if he feels ugly before you, even. he wouldn’t care how he looks to anybody else, but it’s you. and that matters to him. (and the force of just how MUCH it matters terrifies him.)
malnourished and beaten half to death, you still couldn’t find him anything other than beautiful.
cupping his cheeks, you gently tilt his face up to yours, meeting his lips in a slow kiss. every movement of your lips against his is lazy but deliberate.
you touch him as gently as you can, trying to avoid brushing against the myriad of bruises peppering his skin, and cuts both old and new.
even with your efforts, at times you catch him slightly pained - when a touch makes him twitch and wince, sucking in a shallow breath behind gritted teeth.
though he tries his best to hide this - the same way he does in battle, to gain the upper hand - even he knows that he can't hide anything from you.
he preps you but you don't take as long as you maybe should. your movements may be slow and cautious, but you’re both desperate for each other, completely ravenous to feel each other.
you sink down onto him and bite your lip at the feeling of him stuffing you full, stretching you open. god, its been so long.
and apparently, being inside you is what finally breaks the dam. he starts to cry, loudly.
burning hot tears roll down his cheeks and his face goes ruddy with emotion as he starts to talk. his hips never stop pounding up into you.
the pace he sets is erratic, his thrusts stuttering much more than you’ve ever had with him before - the man you’ve always known to be so deliberate and ever in control - but it's all excusable. everything is so different now. what even is the new usual?
“god, i missed you so much. i sat in that cell and- and all i could think about was you. i felt like i was going insane, maybe i have- i thought you’d move on, that you’d leave me. fuck. fuck! i’m so fucked, i’m a mess, i’m bad, i don’t deserve you, i- i...”
and he keeps going. he sounds like raw, jagged edges torn in two, his breaths hitching and his voice cracking open on almost every syllable.
eventually the open sobs devolve into silent tears and the mindless, shaky repetition of your name.
he holds your name in his mouth like its a precious thing, a word he doesn't deserve to say but chooses to say anyway.
he says it twenty times, thirty times, until it doesn't even sound like a word anymore. your name is on his lips when he cums.
physically sated and emotionally drained, you both sink into the bed together. all you can do is hold each other tight and try not to think about the magnitude of what you’ve done, and what tomorrow could possibly bring.
whatever happens - heaven or hell - at least you’ve had tonight.
that will have to be enough.
#18+#smut#drm#fanfic#fanfiction#dreamwastaken smut#dream x reader#dsmp x reader smut#mcyt x reader smut#dream smp x you#dream smp x reader#dream smp x y/n#dsmp x reader#💌 anon#i dont even know what this is#ask to tag#Anonymous
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