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naffeclipse · 1 year

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I have the honor of being @arty-angel-things's secret Santa for the DCASS2022 event! I went a bit over the word minimum, but I had so much fun with this fic. It was a wonderful challenge to craft the prompt from your list of likes such as Mermaid AUs and Sun taking care of Y/N and helping them improve as a person! I did my best to incorporate several elements together and include Moon scaring Reader, of course, but nonetheless helping Y/N to become better as well!

I hope you like it!

Mayday In Paradise

FNAF Mermaid!Sun/Moon x Reader (SFW)

You can also read this fic on AO3!

Word Count: ~5,700 Warnings: Light Angst

You have no idea what you’re doing here, but you’re supposed to have fun. At least, that’s what Vanessa expects you to do. In truth, you’re growing wearier by the second.

The beach house is flawless, and it’s all yours for 14 days. You just flew in yesterday. As gorgeous as the tropical island, white-sand shore is, which is only a hop, skip, and a jump from the back porch of the rental you’re staying in, you’re getting trapped in your thoughts.

There’s a reason you never used your vacation days.

The company you worked for, Fazbear Entertainment, mandated that you use your vacation time by the end of the year or disciplinary action was going to be taken, as apparently, the government was breathing down their necks about their employee health and safety. When you bemoaned to Vanessa, your coworker, that you were going to be forced out of work for two weeks, she agreed, much to your dismay, that you needed the time off. She’s the one who suggested spending your Christmas somewhere down south where the weather is always warm and mild and the crystal clear, salt water is a mere stroll away.

“You need to do something nice for yourself,” she had said, smiling as you both hunched over her laptop during your lunch break, staring at house rentals and exotic locations.

You kneel on the edge of the wet sand, just where the tide laps up gently and brushes against your knees. The late morning sun is already blazing down on your shoulders where you had rubbed a great deal of sunscreen on as you really haven’t spent a great deal of time outside and fear how sensitive your skin will be. A tank top and shorts are proper beach attire, you think. You wear a nice little sunhat, too. Gazing out over the ocean, you touch the small canoe sitting on the shore. The boat was in the small shed tucked beside the garage of the rental, and the renter said everything was for your use, at your pleasure. Paddling around in the water is something fun, right?

It should be, but the longer you stay still, the more you drop into darker thoughts of leaving this beautiful place where time doesn’t grit between your teeth and the air is light and salty and you think you might enjoy yourself here.

You don’t want to get attached. You can’t. This isn’t your life. You have to go back to your empty apartment and wake up early in the cold to make it to work on time so you can talk to your only friend, Vanessa, and rinse and repeat until…

Until you die.

What a life you lead.

You groan quietly and bow your head, covering your face and incidentally brushing wet sand on your forehead. You don’t like to think and ponder about how pathetic your existence is. If you disappeared, only Vanessa would notice, but even then, you suspect she’ll move on because she has friends and family, and you are hardly a second thought, if that, in people’s lives.

This is why you keep up with the daily grind. This is why you work yourself to the bone so that when you go to bed at night, you have no choice but to sleep and not dwell on what is hopeless.

A bird chirps somewhere off in the palm trees, drawing you out of your internal collapse and allowing you to breathe in deeply. The waves gently wash up on shore. The horizon is endless and blue. What are you doing? You need to try to make the most of this before it ends and you’ve wasted it like you tend to waste other things.

Taking a hold of the canoe, you push it into the water, grunting with effort until it buoys. Your feet slip into the ocean. The warm, even temperature soaks your legs. Oh. You should probably get a life jacket on, but when you look back to shore and the empty beach house you’re going to sleep in for 13 more nights, you decide that you know how to swim. Not well, but you know how to. Climbing inside the little boat and setting off, you pick up the paddle laying at the bottom and begin heavy, slow strokes to sail through the small, peaceful slice of this paradise you’re intruding upon.

A peaceful rhythm begins as you paddle. The ocean is surreal—a rich teal color, sometimes cyan blue where it’s really shallow. You do your best to stay clear of a sandbar.

Something flashes just underneath the surface a little ways off from your canoe, a fin of some kind of fish. You can hardly see through the glare of the light reflecting off of the still surface, but then there’s another small splash—something frilled and yellow—but gone the next moment. Leaning forward, almost over the edge of the boat, you strain to pick up whatever was just underneath the surface.

A small bump and a loud scrap hit below the canoe. Your paddle hits something hard, not sand, but something unforgiving. Quickly, you push back and free the boat from whatever it hit, hoping with a cringe that it didn't scratch the paint on the canoe. You should have paid attention to where you’re going. The sandbar stretches a little longer than you had thought and you push around it to head further out to sea.

You paddle farther away, until the shore and the beach house blur into a thin line in the distance. Isolation is easy to find when the surface is calm. You inhale, and your chest feels much lighter than it had been earlier. The gloom that had clouded over your head slowly breaks apart and dissipates.

For a wild, frantic moment, you want to sail over the horizon and never come back. That mystical, other side would take you far away from the mundane and the trite, where you don’t feel so empty and worthless. You paddle harder. The minutes slip by, the heat soaks into your skin as you sweat slightly, and the shade offered by your sunhat barely keeps you cool.

Breathlessly, you stop. You’re farther away from shore, but no closer to where the sky meets the water. Laying the paddle down over your legs, you look across the ocean, as if it cares you're here, as if you’re even one ripple in its vastness. Your heart aches.

You wiggle your toes against the sensation of water. Though it’s warm, it’s cooler than the sun beating down on you.

Wait a minute.

You jerk your head down to find a steadily rising level of ocean seeping into the bottom of the canoe. Freezing in place, you stare as it slips higher, reaching your ankle. Then reality hits you as the canoe sinks deeper into the ocean, far more than it should.

Slowly, knowing that you’re not going to like what you see, you turn back to find shore a very, very long distance away. You’re far. Way too far for someone in just a canoe, not to mention one taking on water.

Uh oh.

You jump to your feet but almost fall overboard as the canoe titters dangerously. The paddle slips from your lap and lands into the wet bottom. Searching frantically, you drag your hands through the leaking canoe and rake your palms over every side, hoping for something, anything, to aid in dealing with this mess. You come up empty, though you do find a small, worn hole in the front of the canoe. Flashing back to that horrible scrap on the sandbar, you realize that this is your fault.

You didn’t bring anything with you—not a life vest, and your mouth grows drier by the second as you stand helplessly in the unstable boat as the surface level climbs up your shins.

You idiot. You stupid idiot.

In a last-ditch effort, you rip the paddle out of the water as the canoe begins to tip in the back, sinking dangerously further into the ocean, and paddle frantically. The boat is slow, struggling to move with the added load. Every shove you give is heavier than the last. There is no more buoyancy.

You drop the paddle and it slips overboard while you scramble forward, away from the devouring wave that’s starting to rush against your thighs. Panic sends your pulse upwards as you cling to the tip of the canoe as it angles slightly higher and the end sinks deeper. In the corner of your vision, something flashes through the water, red and swift.

Oh no. No, no, no. Was that a shark? They’re in these waters, you know they are, and you grow sick at the thought of being torn apart by layers of sharp teeth. Fear bleeds into you, sending your heart racing as you hold tight to the bow of your quickly sinking vessel.

Somehow, you didn’t see yourself becoming food for whatever native animals roam the waters around your vacation getaway. That’s so sad, honestly. You make a strangled noise, like a laugh that wants to be sob, but you can’t help it as terror takes hold. Vanessa might feel bad about suggesting you go here, but it’s not her fault. It’s your fault. If you weren’t so pathetic and lonely and just, not you, you wouldn’t be here, sinking.

The water crashes against your hips. Half of the canoe is submerged, tilting to a sharper degree as you whimper and look back to the thin line on the horizon that’s supposed to be land. You mentally balk. You have to swim. You don’t know how but you have to try and make it back to shore with whatever you just saw in the water.

The sinking feeling in your middle matches the finality of the canoe.

You close your eyes and inhale sharply, internally bracing yourself. Before you can unhook your hands from around the bow, something splashes close beside you.

When you open your eyes, looking over the end of the canoe, you’re met with an aqua-blue gaze, the color almost disappearing into the liquid hue lapping at the creature’s face. Bright yellow frills adorn his head in a way that reminds you of the rays that beam off of the sun.

You gasp as he blinks, then rises higher above the surface, revealing a grinning jaw full of razor-sharp teeth. The strange fish’s round and flat face tilt, the pale yellow color of its scales running down a slender neck adorned with red fins like a ruffle collar. Your arms lock around the canoe as you stare back. He slowly opens his deadly mouth; your mind screams at you to get away.

“You look like you’re in trouble, friend,” the fish cheerfully remarks.

You sputter, blinking rapidly, before registering that the water is overtaking the last of your precious floatation device. Scrambling, you furiously crawl on top of the very edge of the canoe before it, too, sinks.

“Get away!” you shriek, wishing you still had your paddle. You could have used it to wack that, that—whatever it is, back!

The fish-man thing slips away slightly, concerned but cringing at your piercing volume. He levels a soft gaze on you amid your fumbling panic.

Officially, the boat falls entirely underwater. You’re standing up, but your platform is taking you deeper. With no other choice, you kick off of it as much as you can to get a small leap through the water and away from that thing that’s smiling with way too many teeth.

You sputter as salt and liquid hit your face. Struggling, you kick and push your arms, splashing wildly. The fact that you’re a weak swimmer only pushes your frantic movements harder, and then something snags your foot, sharp points digging into your skin. You barely have a moment to inhale before something drags you under.

Through the burn of salt, you look down as your heart climbs into your throat. Glowing red eyes stare up at you from where the depth darkens the water and reveals another fish-man. A dark blue hand is wrapped around your ankle. This one is silvery and dark in the face, like a crescent moon hanging in the night sky. He bears a smile no less wide than the other one, and somehow, even sharper as he holds you in place just below the surface. Instead of frills, it has a thick, midnight blue appendage that reminds you of a nightcap trailing off of the back of his head, ending with a small, glowing bulb, much like an angler fish’s lure. His body is long and sleek, a darker color but his tail is dotted with designs in his scales, like stars. The sharp tips of his fins remind you of a shark.

A breath escapes you in a scream, swallowed by the sea in a burst of bubbles. You start thrashing wildly. The creature hisses and snatches your other ankle before pulling you deeper. You’re whipped downwards, forced to confront his terrifying grin. You freeze. The fish man looms in the water above you as his grip shifts to grab you tightly by the waist, reminding you how incredibly small and useless you are in the water. Red eyes paralyze you.

“Stop it,” he warns in a low, whispery voice, carried seamlessly through the water. “Be good, or else.”

Your wide gaze stings from the salt but you can’t look away, waiting for the creature to decide that it’s already reached ‘or else’ and take a bite out of you. A fire begins eating up your lungs. There is no more air left in you and the ocean is becoming darker by the moment.

Arms wrap around you, underneath your armpits, from behind. You jolt as your back is pulled flushed against a solid chest. The moon face creature narrows his eyes, irritated as if the fun was cut short.

“Moon, the poor thing needs air,” reminds a buoyant, chasting voice behind you before the other one releases your waist. In one flip of a tail, the yellow fish man lifts you to the surface.

Your head breaks through the water and you inhale sharply, choking several times before settling enough to register that a mysterious sea monster is still, very much, holding you tightly around your chest. Large hands, pale yellow, and arms lined with small red flowing fins on the outside that stop at the elbow, lower to your waist. Claws dig slightly into the fabric of your tank top.

Deeply breathing, you press your hands over the arms holding you in place above the water and sputter, “Don’t eat me!”

“Oh, we’re not going to eat you!” the voice behind you chimes pleasantly. “We’re not hungry.”

You tense. Panic flows once more through your veins but you’re distracted by the other fish man—merman, that’s the word you’ve been looking for—sliding up in front of you. He doesn’t break entirely through the surface, his mouth hidden beneath the slow ripples you’ve thrown out in your half-halted squirming. His red eyes bore into you, predator-like. You stiffen.

“Let me go,” you say quietly as you attempt to pry the sunny merman’s arms off of you, “Right now.”

“And let you sink again?” the merman behind you clicks his tongue disapprovingly. The dark blue one grabs your wrists with a small splash, forcing you to stop. Not that you actually got the yellow, scaly arms to budge. “Friend, you don’t seem to understand the danger you’re in.”

No, you’re well aware of the fact that two mystical and terrifying mermen are holding you captive right now, and that at their leisure, they could drag you under to drown or start tearing you apart. The water is dangerous because you are in it with them.

The blue merman rises higher out of the water, and immediately, you’re trapped in his shadow. His teeth flash in the light. When he tilts his face, the thing at the back of his head drapes over his shoulder.

“You think you can make it that far?” amusement fills his rasp.

You whimper as he slowly flexes his grip around your wrists before easing up slightly. You kick out once and hit something solid that you can barely make out in the water, something yellow and red striped that then jerks slightly. You’re pretty sure you hit the one holding you. Your thought is confirmed when the arms around your waist tighten.

“Be nice,” the yellow one’s voice lowers, becoming slightly darker, and you don’t miss the warning. His tone alone freezes you in place. “You need to mind your manners so we can keep helping you.”

“Help… me?” you breathe out. You tug on the silver and dark face merman’s grip, but he doesn’t budge.

“Get back to shore,” he says, his starry ‘hat’ glistening wet.

You glance momentarily around, back at the sun-like merman and back to the more moon-esque one.

“Why?” The word slips out of your mouth before you consider, maybe, not questioning the two sea creatures holding your life in their hands, and thus causing them to change their minds.

Two pairs of eyes, one red, one blue, fall on you. It’s very hard to swallow suddenly.

“You looked like you were having a bad day, friend,” the sunny one says simply. “There’s no need to let it get any worse!”

“We’re not hungry,” the moon fish says, echoing the sunny one’s words from earlier. Your face falls in horror before he snickers. You grow still as he turns over your hands and works your fingers open, unfurling your fists. Is he messing with you? Does he find it funny to scare you? You can only stare and wonder as he slides his hands over your palm to loosen the tension in the lines.

“O-okay.” Your fingers tremble until he finally releases your hands. In a smooth descent, he sinks below the water, red eyes still watching, ominously close.

“That’s much better, sunshine. Hold on, it’s a long way for you,” the one behind you says, very closely, and you glance over your shoulder to see his ever-sharp smile grow in excitement.

“Wait!” A spark of anxiety hits your chest, fearing the merman holding you is about to go under, too, but your outburst is silenced as he hikes you up, pulling you tighter against his chest as he falls onto his back. Water splashes over your arms and your legs. A small noise of fright escapes your throat before you inhale sharply, holding the precious air in your lungs. You flail for half a moment before registering the stern but gentle reprimand from the yellow merman. Holding still, you’re acutely aware of the water lapping at the edges of your body as he swims steadily with flicks of his tail, keeping you above the surface. The sky overhead is a perfect, crystal blue.

Tentatively, you exhale. A blazing heat not due to the sun setting over your face. It’s strange and almost intimate how he holds you so securely to him, and it immediately reminds you of those cute videos of mother otters holding their young on their bellies. Except, it’s you, and you’re clutched by a merman.

You’re lying on top of his body. When you glance down, you realize his tail is brightly striped in scarlet and yellow, with flowing, translucent red fins outlining his sides and expanding into a beautiful, full tailfin of the same colors.

“Stay right there. Don’t move, friend! It’s so much easier when you listen to us, isn’t it?” he hums encouragingly.

Slowly, slowly, you give in to this wild turn of events with a stark air of incredulousness. Your head reclines against a bony ridge on the merman—a slender collarbone, you think. Underneath your feet, the rhythmic motions of a tail working through the water become a familiar motion.

“You’re really taking me back to shore?” you ask dumbly. You're not even sure if you’re still alive or maybe this is an odd dream, something your sun-fried brain cooked up to give you a boost of serotonin, but that doesn’t fit right either. You can’t remember the last time you had a pleasant dream.

The merman’s short chuckle rumbles underneath your back.

“Yes,” the arms around you press a little tighter, “and I must insist that whatever destination you had in mind out on the ocean wait until you learn to not sink your boat.”

“I didn’t have a destination,” you mumble, embarrassed at his slight jab at your obvious mistake. Quietly, you berate yourself for your foolishness.

“You looked very determined to get somewhere , friend,” he says, voice lowering slightly as if pondering the idea of you lying to him.

Were he and the other one watching you from underneath the water? You guess that’s possible, but that doesn’t explain why he’d care to. You’re nothing special. The only eye-catching skill you’ve flaunted so far is being hilariously bad at being aware of your surroundings until it’s too late.

His claws dig deeper into your sides and you realize he’s expecting an answer, one you scramble for before blurting out, “I was getting away!”

“Away?” You can hear the frown in his voice, but you can’t picture his grinning maw turning upside down, so you try to peek up at him. “Away from what?”

You only manage to get a look past his shoulder into the water. The glimpse reveals a dark shape keeping up with the sunny merman’s steady swim, glowing faintly with a yellow hue in small patches. Looking back to the sky, you desperately hope the moon merman doesn’t get hungry anytime soon. You cling a little tighter to the arms holding you above water.

“I don’t know,” you confess. It’s a pathetic answer, and you know it wouldn’t be accepted by anyone, much less a merman who’s the only thing keeping you from a watery grave. You feel a small brush of something wet and solid on the top of your head—one of the yellow frills, maybe, framing his head.

The small motion unlocks your mouth with a watery key of fear, and you gush, “I don’t want to be here! But I don’t want to go back to my empty apartment and I don’t want to go back to work but it doesn’t matter where I go because it’s always me. I can’t get away from me and my stupid face and the stupid things I do!”

You exhale and your chest is tight, crushing your lungs. One hand lifts from around your middle, and you start. The claw digits take a hold of your chin and push your head up, up, until your eyes are tilting all the way back and you behold the merman sitting up slightly from the water, his face upside down in your vision.

“Be nice,” he warns softly. Water drips off of his fins as his aqua-blue eyes emphasize his point.

You can’t gulp at the angle you're pushed in, but when he lets go of your jaw, resuming his hold on your torso, you swallow dryly.

“I… I wasn’t being mean to you,” you give meekly. You immediately cringe, and desperately wish you would have just left it be.

“Be nice to yourself,” he soothes. Another brush of something wet and slippery against your hair gives you pause like he’s pressing his cheek against the crown of your head. This time, salt water trails down the side of your face before the touch lifts away. The merman flicks his tail once more with you in his arms.

Oh.

You turn your head to the side. Gazing out across the teal ocean, you pretend to not notice the dark shadow following just below you and the merman. You’re not sure what all of this means—if there’s some grand point, but it feels better. Not great, not peachy, but you’re definitely not thinking about what you were thinking about this morning.

That's a slight improvement. If only you could confirm whether or not the scary sea creatures were going to eat you or not. That would be the final factor in determining how well you’re doing right about now.

By the time your skin starts to burn since the sunscreen has long since washed away, the merman, who you’ve started mentally referring to as Sun, if only because he called the other one Moon, slows down gradually. You tense. The water is shallow here, the sand just a few feet below the crystal teal water, but you’re not ready to believe that it’s as simple as the merman said.

Claws around your middle flex as he gently says, “The shore is right here, sunshine.”

You’re not sure why he’s calling you that, or how it can cause so many flutters in your stomach, but slowly, he slides you off of him. You start to scramble for a handhold, fearing that even at this depth, which you’re not even sure you can touch the bottom, the mermen could drown you or easily enjoy a human meal. Quickly, before your panic can increase tenfold, you’re eased into another pair of arms. These are deep blue and silver, and you immediately cling to the wet shoulders of the other merman. Moon.

You look up and immediately suck in a quick breath at his sharp smile. He cranks his neck down, eyeing you closely before his red gaze narrows. Half a sensible thought reminds you to not struggle despite how hard your heart pounds. He might still eat you.

“Land,” he says in his low, whispery tone. Turning your head slowly, you find the white-sand shore and your beach house, sitting patiently. It’s only a few strokes away. Gradually, you turn to face him again, hyper-aware of his intense grip on your waist. The water laps at your neck but he’s all that keeps you afloat, and you still hold desperately to his frame.

The other one, Sun, sweeps around you. The smooth sensation of flourishing fins brushes against your calf as he eases to your side. Moon shifts slightly, angling you enough that they both face you. Your eyes dart between the mermen. Parched, and struggling with a dry mouth, you swallow roughly. Two pairs of magical and impossible eyes watch you. The ocean ripples with all three of you floating close together.

“Thank you,” you speak carefully as Sun had warned you before to mind your manners. “Thank you both for helping me.”

“You're welcome,” they speak in unison, one chipper and one low but not so spooky. Softer, even.

“Can I…” you hesitate as Moon’s hands dig slightly into your hips, but you’re not sure what else can be done. Either they eat you, or they let you go. Your heart skips a beat. “Can I swim to shore, now?”

The sea creatures share a glance, teeth always bared in a sharp grin, but the yellow one looks a tad discontent, unsatisfied. Nodding his head silently, the blue merman seems to be answering an unspoken question between them, but you’re not sure what. Are they agreeing to take a bite out of you? Your hands clench on Moon’s slick shoulders. Anxiety spikes in your pulse.

“Of course,” Sun says, tilting his head and dripping salt water off of his frills, “but first, what’s your name?”

You stare for a few moments too long. It would be considered rude if you weren’t certain your jaw was slack and your eyes wide in disbelief. At least, they appear to believe your genuineness. Sun’s eyes crinkle with worry and Moon parts his jaws slightly, revealing just how deadly the entirety of his mouth is.

“Your name,” Moon repeats tersely.

It sputters out of your mouth. The fact that it’s yours and they want to know it causes you to flinch internally. It’s nothing. It’s just your name.

The flow of water being pushed below gives away how Sun flicks his fins, pleased. Moon tilts his head as if chewing on the letters before deciding it’s good enough. You look to Sun, still wondering if the heat has baked your brain or if maybe this is a weird version of heaven or hell. His aqua-blue gaze softens.

He lifts a hand, claws dripping wet. You start to lean back but Moon’s grip tightens and you’re held in place as the yellow merman brushes a wet strand of hair away from your face, over your forehead.

“Let’s not repeat this little accident,” he says, the rebuke clear in his tone but he chuckles lightly.

“A-alright.” You nod once.

Moon pulls you close and your foot brushes against a sleek fin far below. His tail. He bares his teeth but mirth glows in the crimson of his gaze.

“Be good.” His hands rise from your side and cup your face. Firmly confined, you quickly grab tight to his wrists as he stares directly into you, not through you, but straight into your core. As if he refuses to let you not be aware of his intensity.

“I-I will,” you promise weakly.

“No,” he murmurs and taps a claw against your bottom lip. “ Be good .”

You glance down reflectively, but you can’t see much but the sensation of wet, sleek palms holding you above water.

“To you?” you try in your confusion.

“To you .” He emphasizes and taps once more, this time dropping to your chin. You resist the urge to lick your lips, well aware of how salty and dry they will taste.

Oh. Oh.

Maybe the world has gone mad. Maybe you’ve finally snapped and this is what fantasy your mind has driven you to.

You still don’t have an answer as Moon starts to push you backward. The water flows gently around you as Sun easily keeps with the leisure speed as if they’re both dragging out this time. You flick your eyes between them, then the first brush of sand hits the back of your heel, and you jerk slightly. Moon begins to release you, but you panic.

This—whatever this is, is about to end. This bizarre and mystical encounter with creatures that should not exist. How can you return to the mundane now? It’s as if you’ve been kept in the dark and have finally emerged into the world, only to be blinded by the light.

You don’t even know what they call themselves!

You let go of one of Moon’s wrists to snag Sun’s arm, touching the red fins floating off of his limb, who startles. Moon eyes flash in surprise and then something unreadable as you cling to him tightly.

“What are your names?” you gasp, barely standing on your tiptoes and keeping your mouth and nose from falling under. Without Moon’s support, you’re only just keeping your head above the surface.

They both stare at you. It would be all too easy for them to break your grip or even drag you under and back out to sea to drown, but they stay, watching your desperate attempts to keep them long enough to give them proper names.

“Moon,” he says, just as the yellow merman called him. He twists out of your grasp but snatches your wrist before your mouth falls under, relieving you of your pathetic struggle as he easily supports you.

“I’m Sun,” the other one gives gently—just as you thought! He, too, frees himself of your distress-fueled hold and instead pulls you closer, cupping your elbow so that you’re lifted on both sides, floating between the two. “You should rest away from the water for a while, sunshine”

“Okay, okay,” you breathe out. There are a million more things you want to ask but they push you backward until your feet scrap against the sand. They slip back, fins flicking underneath the surface. Their touch leaves you, and quickly, you become cold.

Moon ducks slightly, his mouth sinking below the waterline but his glowing red eyes stay on you as you quickly work your way backward. Until, finally, you’re standing in waist-deep water. Floating higher in the water, Sun watches you. He tilts his head, eyes upturned with quiet amusement as you trip over your own feet. Splashing, you catch yourself, surprisingly. You look back and the pair have drifted deeper, though you stay in the shallows, fingers clenching and grasping.

Moon sinks under first, then Sun, but you swear you can feel eyes on you as you stare out over the ocean. The heat of the day tilts. Orange begins burning at the edge of the horizon. You’re in desperate need of a drink and need to lie down.

Be good.

You pull yourself out of the ocean and stumble onto the shore, dragging your feet. Exhaustion slams into you as adrenaline and the need to survive wane. Something cold is left in its wake.

What did you stumble upon? Or rather, what did you sink into? You’re not that lucky to suddenly be confronted by magical creatures, much less helpful ones—even if they are very, very intimidating. Why your name? Why did they ask about your name? Why do they care to know? You’re no one. You don’t think anyone would have noticed you had drowned except for Vanessa, and even then—

Be nice.

You look back out over the water. A chill rolls over your skin and you hug yourself, realizing your sunhat is long gone. It must have gone under with the boat amid your panic.

Okay. Okay.

You slowly take yourself to the back porch of your beach house and wonder, how exactly, you’re meant to exist with the knowledge that mermen exist. Maybe if you could see them again, you could discover a way to cope with this new reality.

A soft blossom of warmth fills your chest.

Be good. Be nice.

You’ll do just that.

#DCASS2022 #arty-angel-things #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x reader #moon x y/n #mermaid au #mermaid!sun #mermaid!moon #ao3 link #Mayday In Paradise

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pithypepper · 4 months

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No real changes in Dad today. I think he seems marginally more awake than yesterday, but my sister disagrees with me. The plan is to gat a PEG tube tomorrow. He is not alert to time and place, and is getting his daughters confused. We need to keep working to wake him and working to get him to recognize his left side. He repeatedly asks for coffee or water. We say no, he asks why, and we tell him about his stroke. 2 mins later, rinse and repeat.

His wife was admitted with chest pain last night. We suspect it’s probably not cardiac, but anxiety and not taking care of herself, but better safe than sorry. The last thing she needs is an echocardiogram, then hopefully she’ll be discharged.

I made my mom cry last night. Here’s the thing: my mom is an emotionally fragile, tad-bit-helpless person. She means well, but there was a moment last night when dad’s room had 8 other people besides me and dad. It was WAAAAAAY too many people. My mom kept needing small things and needing my attention while I was trying to listen to the conversations about dad’s care that was going on between my sister and his nurse. Meanwhile his wife’s sister was needing help to get snacks out and my mom is saying she needed a charger for her phone because she forgot hers. I left the room for some space and called my boyfriend for support. (He’s back in TN.) Mom followed me out to the waiting room and wanted to know what’s wrong. (She’s also hyper-sensitive about other people’s emotions and always thinks they’re about her.) i told her exactly what was wrong. That I didn’t have the capacity to help her, or answer her questions, and all my attention needs to be on my dad. She of course burst into tears and fled the hospital. But I’m okay with setting boundaries. I don’t want to make her cry, but this situation is not about her.

The precursor to this, though, was earlier in the day she showed up in the hospital bathed in Bath and Body Works lotion. When I asked her to make sure to not wear perfume because of my asthma, she left and changed her clothes. Which, thank you, but I think that set her up to already be self-conscious.

I’ll be sleeping at the hospital tonight with dad. Pray for me. This will be the first time I will have tried to sleep without my CPAP. 😮

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dumpster-connoisseur · 10 months

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Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I get the sudden urge to draw. I get struck with a few ideas and I want to try and draw them, but I'm at work and even if I bring a little notebook to doodle I still can't string more than 5 minutes togheter, if that, and it's so deeply frustrating that I don't bother to try anymore. And then I get home and I'm just so so so tired I barely want to do anything, much less draw. Some nights I just sit and scroll endlessly or watch stupid videos because the alternative is crashing and going straight to sleep and waking up and going to work and coming back and crashing and going straight to sleep and rinse and repeat rinse and repeat.

Some nights I try really hard and pick my stupid pen and try, really try, but I'm lucky if I manage to do a doodle and it's so bad, always so bad, and I don't want to look at it. It takes so long to bring myself to try, so much scheduling just to get the time to do it, and it's just so underwhelming and bad and wrong that I just give up for other few weeks or months until I try again because what else is there?

On late April I finally got my vacations and it was the first time I got two whole weeks and I spent most of it sleeping but by the end of it I was managing to draw a bit, still doodles but I was doing more and more days and they didn't look like complete dogshit, but then May came and I started working and that's out that's out the window again.

There's no way around it, no way out of it. I'll have to keep trying against and around exhaustion and limited free time and lack of will and lack of hability and pain and and and and

Or maybe I'll just give up, finally. Maybe the next time is so bad I finally give up for good and I stop craving art completely and I have one less thing to worry over and care for. Maybe next time it's finally the last time and I can be tired and unmotivated in peace. Maybe it's the last time and I give up and don't try anymore because honestly what the fuck else is there?

#vent #bleh sorry i dont like to use my blog for venting #but also no sense bothering anyone with problems with no solutions and im just kinda tired y'know?#also ngl if i tell someone and ill i hear back is 'itll be ok youll want to draw again :)' or whatever ill bite drywall

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agorejessstone · 2 years

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Remembering Duskwood: Part 9

EPISODE 1 - 10 SPOILERS

The smell of bacon aroused my senses as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I hadn’t slept that soundly in weeks. I was grateful for the evening that I’d spent with Jake, the event in Duskwood somewhere far from my mind. As I shuffled through the hallway, I found jake in a pair of grey sweatpants, and no shirt, in front of the stove. My heart fluttered down to my stomach at the sight of him.

“So sexy,” I mumbled from my spot in the hallway.

He looked over his shoulder as he worked, “You’re awake.”

“I am. Have you been awake long?” I yawned into my palm; suddenly very aware I hadn’t had time to brush my teeth.

“No.” He turned back to the pan, splashing bacon grease over the top of fried eggs.

“I’ll go freshen up. I’ll be right back.” I hurried off to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind me, I sunk down to the floor. What was wrong with me? I should be happy that he’s here. I should be ecstatic that he’s making breakfast for us, that I slept in his arms, but something inside of me refused to be anything but gloomy. Was it the idea of going to Duskwood? Was I nervous to meet my friends, or was it facing Richy’s death?

No. It was neither of those things. I was terrified that I would wake up from this dream. I was scared that Alan would refuse to help Jake. What would happen then? I’d said I’d be with him, and I meant it. I’d follow him into a burning building near collapse, if it meant seeing his face, touching him, even one more time.

It was hard to sort through my feelings. As I turned on the shower and hopped in for a quick rinse, I considered my options. I’d do whatever it was that Jake felt was right, except leave him alone. I could never do that again. Well, I suppose there are a few other things I’d say no to. Like robbing a bank, murder, oh, and anything that has to do with harming animals.

I chuckled at the obscene frame of mind I was currently in. Of course, Jake would never ask me to do anything that would make me uncomfortable. Or would he? After all, there were several times I wanted to back out of the case, but he wouldn’t allow it. Even if I’d blocked him, and never spoke to them again, I’m almost positive he’d have found a way to bring me back. Was that because I was invaluable to the case, or because he’d cared about me since day one?

Somehow, I knew Jake wouldn’t have the answer to that himself. He knew a whole lot about just about anything else, but when it came to the way he felt, he didn’t seem to understand himself in the slightest. At least, that’s how it seemed on the surface. Now that we’re together, it seems a whole lot more likely that he’s highly self-aware, and just doesn’t communicate well.

As I dressed, I started to feel a little bit better. I’d began repeating a mantra over and over inside of my head. I’m finally meeting my friends from Duskwood. Sure, the circumstances could be better, but they weren’t. I’d just have to find other things to be excited about. Like trying something Cleo baked, for instance. Listening to Dan and Jessy argue over how many adult beverages he should be having on the premise he’s still driving. Even if he is only driving a wheelchair.

I’d tried picturing us inside the Aurora, Phil serving drinks, Jake extremely jealous. That part made me a little giddy, I must admit, however toxic it might be. Jake had been so devoid of emotions during our time together. It was nice to see such a range since he’d arrived, and I looked forward to seeing more once we were in Duskwood.

I also wanted to be there if Jake decided to tell Hannah the truth, about who he was. Lilly had a big mouth, but something told me this wasn’t the type of secret she’d tell without asking. After all, it did involve her. Well, more her father, Nathan, but still. I can’t believe she can stand the sight of him. Hopefully, she doesn’t snap before we arrive.

Thomas and Hannah were finally together again. That made me extremely happy for many reasons. Even if she never found out who Jake was, I knew he’d keep his distance, but there was always the possibility she’d manage to get under my skin as well. So, for now, I’d do everything I could to prop the couple up on a pedestal. Compliment just how upset Thomas was that she’d kept the thing from him and how hard he worked to get her back. Even if he did hinder our operation several times, he did it with good intentions.

Sort of like Richy. Just the sound of his name in my head made my chest hurt. Richy was by far my favorite out of the group. I’d understood him and what he did. Truly. He didn’t expect this to go as far as it did. He’s so nice he couldn’t think of a way to both achieve his goal, and not throw his friends under the bus. I really wish he’d have just gone to the police with what he knew to begin with. All of this would have ended much differently.

In the end, however, Alan said that Hannah, while shaken, was in great condition. Richy had at least ensured her health, physically. I’d have to contain my overall rage towards Hannah as well. Jake was my boyfriend now, or I think he is anyway. Haven’t exactly had that conversation, but still. It would be nice to get along with his only family. It wouldn’t be easy, that’s for sure. I’ll have to keep telling myself that regardless of the cause, Richy still made his own choices, and they weren’t the best after all.

I hurried to the kitchen where Jake was plating up the food. I’d had plenty of time to clear my head, yet I was still drowning in thoughts. I smiled as he kissed my cheek and took a seat next to me at the breakfast bar. We ate in silence, packed in silence, and took a cab, in silence. Jake eyed me warily from time to time but thought better of asking me how I was feeling. I’m sure he was nervous as well. We were entering the lion’s den, as they say. It would be a miracle if we made it through customs without one or both of us being arrested.

We boarded the plane without incident. Jake held my hand in the seat next to me as I watched the ground disappear, replaced by thick clouds, through the window. Chewing my lip, I considered how I would greet everyone. Was a hug too much? Should we just shake hands? Why am I like this?

Before I’d had any time to sort through my plan, the plane began its descent.

“Lilly should be here already,” Jake checked the time on his phone as we grabbed our carry-on items from the overhead bin.

“That’s good because there is nothing worse than waiting in an airport all day.”

“I’d wait just about anywhere if it meant being with you.” He leaned over and snuck a kiss on my forehead.

“Jake!” I shouldered him playfully. “When did you get so sweet?”

His cheeks scarlet, he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “It’s your fault. You’re just so sweet it’s rubbed off on me.”

“Stop it” I elbowed him gently in the ribs, “People are staring.”

“Let them stare.” He shrugged, taking my bag, and carrying it to the front of the plane.

I followed him, my heartbeat increasing as I realized we were only seconds away from meeting at least one of the people I’d been chatting with over the last month or so. Lilly happened to be the only one I had ever really had any issues with. She’d released that stupid video accusing Jake and I of being the kidnappers, couldn’t have been any worse if I’m speaking honestly. Jake’s identity and location were revealed, and he was forced to go into hiding. Sure, she made things right with the I Am Jake movement, but that is a moot point. Had she not hastily posted the video to be with, there’d been no need in the first place.

Still, Jake had planned everything after his escape down to the letter, forcing me to work with Lilly on a puzzle, that would later reveal his identity. Lilly felt bad enough without me rehashing it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still angry about it. I could have lost him forever. I chewed my lip as the baggage claim came into view. We’d not packed lots, but we didn’t know when we’d return, so I’d opted for 2 suitcases.

Jake had very little to his name, which made a ton of sense given his situation, but I wanted to change that. I wasn’t super-wealthy, but I did have a good chunk of savings. A few new t-shirts, jeans, and a new pair of shoes were on the list of items I’d be grabbing for him at some point. I’d make Jessy go shopping with me, while he spent time with the guys or at home, whatever he felt comfortable doing.

He'd booked us a tiny cabin near the Black Water Lake, at the edge of the forest. We’d pay for the next month and then go from there. That’s more than enough time when you think about it. It took less time to figure out Richy was the man without a face and save Hannah. Hopefully, it was enough time for Alan to sort out something for Jake.

Lost in thought, I barely felt the tap on my shoulder. I wheeled around, nearly knocking the person to the ground. It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t Lilly I had barreled into, but Jessy, who was now squealing with delight.

“Jess!” she screeched, drawing the attention of several passersby.

“Jessy!” before I knew what I was doing, I was reaching toward her, pulling her into the biggest hug I could muster, “I thought Lilly was picking us up?”

“She’s around here…” She glanced around the baggage claim, “OH! There!” She pointed to a corner where Lilly was standing, talking to Jake.

“How did I not even notice?” I shook my head.

“Stealthy. I assume that’s Jake she’s talking to?”

“It is.” I smiled brightly at the sound of his name.

“I knew it!” She giggled like a schoolgirl before grabbing one of my bags in one hand and offering me the other, “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a little bit of a drive before we make it to the cabin.”

I nodded, taking her hand, “Okay,”

“Are you nervous?” She asked in a small voice.

“I… I’m not sure. I was nervous, but meeting you was as easy as breathing. On the other hand,” I nodded in Lilly’s direction, “I don’t think she likes me much.”

“Nonsense.” She shook her head vehemently, “She loves you. You saved her sister after all. Sure, you butt heads at the start, but she was just scared.”

“Are you sure, because that seems like it’s just… sort of who she is as a person?” I raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“She can be a bit much, I agree, but she’s nice. She’s just young. That’s all.” She nudged me playfully as we closed in on Lilly and Jake’s location.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly, “Anyway, we should get going.”

“Oh, Jess!” Lilly held her arms out wide.

I leaned in awkwardly, never letting go of my luggage or Jessy’s hand, “Lilly. How are you?” My voice sounded strained.

“I’m better now that you two are here! How was the flight?” She started walking towards the exit as we spoke.

“Wait for a second, Jess, give me your bags.” Jake reached out and grabbed what he could, stacking them together.

“Jake you can’t handle…” I stopped mid-sentence as he rigged everything together expertly, dragging it behind him without stopping. “Well, okay then.”

Jessy leaned over and whispered, “He’s a lot more… muscular than I imagined. More of a gentleman too.”

I nudged her with a quick shush, “Stop it.”

She covered her mouth dramatically with a giggle, “Fine, but I want details, all the details later.”

I rolled my eyes as we loaded into the car and were on our way. I must have fallen asleep on Jake’s shoulder at some point because the next thing I knew, we were nearing Duskwood’s borders. Jessy turned around in her seat and smiled at me warmly.

“Welcome to Duskwood, Jess!” Jessy and Lilly said in unison.

#dusk #duskwood #duskwood everbyte #iamjake #jakexmc #duskwood mwaf #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #duskwood fanfiction #philxmc #duskwood mc #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc

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b4kuch1n · 1 year

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7; A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate. 19; Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.). 28; Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)!

hiiii plaid 💕

ask game here

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

puppetry! and puppet-making, for that matter. miniature and diorama making as well. both requires delicate hands and patience I don't possess, but both are so magical to me that I really wanna try my hand at them anyway... I love illusions maintained with artistry and layers upon layers of mechanisms! I love artifice! show me fake things! it's so sexy when art commits to its bit!

feels like it goes without saying but I also immensely appreciate animation, of course. as a comic artist the process of animation makes me shudder, but also genuinely so many character designs would be nothing without the motions assigned to them in animation, doubly so with monsters.

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

shoes and glasses. glasses I can draw pretty much from memory in one go because I've had a pair sitting on my nose for almost two decades now, shoes treat me much more mercurially but they're always such a fun thing to coordinate in a character design that I brute force my way through drawing them anyway lol. books are another thing I love drawing, making up cover designs and putting jokes in the text/illustrations are my favourite thing in a piece whenever I get to do it :]

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

I'm turns out not a huge event person haha, the more I do stuff nowadays the more I don't keep up with any of that anymore... I had two pieces in the Salt&Pepper TeruMob zine back in the days, I did a comic for the Wear the Mask ITSV zine, I completed witchsona week in... 2018? and the paint witch has been my little pocket rascal ever since... oh yeah! I did an all-comic JosuYasu week in 2017 I think, it's still my hardest play and biggest accomplishment commitment-wise. putting down the most colloquial of sketches for all the comics beforehand, inking and lettering every comic from 8PM to around 6-7AM next day, go to sleep, wake up at like 4PM to make dinner, rinse and repeat for a week except for day 5 I think where I had to re-sketch the whole thing. those comics are all under five pages and I basically cut out the second detail sketching step to ink right on top of the preliminary sketch, but it was still a huge sprint that I'm still pretty proud of. and will never, ever do again. it was not good for me. I do think it was kind of awesome that I managed that! but never again in my goddamn life

(more recently I put in a piece for a local ace community's contest and got a nifty price. it was fun! but that piece's not for this sphere I feel like. it was the first time I saw something I drew in a gallery tho, that was really nice)

#ask #plaidyart #bakuspeech #artist ask #just realized I didn't mention any art medium that directly has to do with music lol. I am so inept at wording music stuff #but I appreciate the lady who pioneers modern theremin playing! and also the lady who uses pedals on harp #emily hopkin's her name I think. I don't understand a thing abt music but her work slaps #and of course I appreciate a good prose when it's good. not to be 14yo in lit class abt it but read some ray bradbury recently #and like I'm better at gauging writing quality. so to say. in english than in french. I can tell when a text reads weird #or when it's uncared for. but I actually don't read extensively in english (yet)#when I read I Sing The Body Electric I had a moment like. hey this is Good writing #skjdhsjk I'm just gonna sit here in the tag namedropping artists I've looked at recently I guess #on the note of event I really wanna do artfight at least once in my life! I need to gather up my children for war next year #hopefully I get the chance! and that's it #thank u for the ask plaid!! hope ur having a good day!!

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misted-buttercup-enjoyer · 1 year

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Chapter One [Apartment AU]

(AU where the KFC gang are inexplicably living in an apartment while facing financial ruin. Kris is 17, goes to school, and is depressed. Frisk is 19, cuts hair, and is sad sometimes. Chara is 21 and trying to cheer their little band up while desperately trying to make ends meet.)

Most weekdays were the same for Kris. Wake up at seven to the sound of Chara knocking on the closet door, sometimes with their signature ladle, calling, “Yo Kris~! It’s time to wake up~!” Kris stumbled out of their bunk in the closet, got dressed, if they had bothered to change into pajamas last night, and ate whatever breakfast Chara could manage to make. Try to get their crap together, and leave the apartment to board the bus at eight. Sleepwalk through their morning classes, straight-up sleep if they could get away with it. (They could always get away with it in history class, since Ms. Latcher was worried about them.) Eat whatever lunch Chara could throw together. Sneak into the music room to play the piano during recess, if the music teacher who hated them wasn’t around. Sit through their afternoon classes. Catch a bus to go to their work at Ice Queen and take ice-cream orders at the Drive-thru until seven-thirty, getting free ice cream privileges which served as dinner. Go home and lie low, with Chara cracking jokes, trying to cheer them up, while Frisk probably read a book. Kris scrolled on their phone, listening to video game piano tutorials, wishing they had a keyboard. ‘Going to bed’ at ten–bed being a small bunk in the closet, a spot they had chosen for privacy since the few clothes Chara and Frisk had were on the other side of the closet, with separate doors entirely, so they had some space. (Frisk and Chara squeezed on a single bed. Kris’s bunk was cramped enough that they didn’t feel guilty. Besides, Frisk and Chara were more touchy-feely than them anyway.) Rip out their cyan soul and lock it in the tiny plastic birdcage that used to hold a toy parrot when they were five. Sit in bed scrolling through social media on their phone till one or two in the morning. Finally turn off the phone and put their soul back in their body before collapsing and involuntarily passing out.

Saturdays were a bit different. Kris slept in until seven-thirty, but since the trio was in financial ruin Kris had to get up and start working at Ice Queen from eight in the morning to seven-thirty at night. On Saturdays they skipped breakfast, but had lunch plus the free ice cream, and free ice cream for dinner. This aspect was not as idyllic as it sounded. The only free ice cream available was vanilla, and it mostly just made Kris cold without filling them up much. But if they could conserve any money, they did, and tried not to tell Chara the hunger that tugged at their stomach every day. Usually they could grab some moss and eat that to tide themself over, though.

Sunday morning Kris had off. They usually slept the whole time, but if they woke up and couldn’t fall asleep they just listened to piano music, trying to stop themself from scrolling or ripping out their soul. At twelve-thirty, after lunch, they went back to Ice Queen’s and worked till six. Then again, dinner, evening, sleep.

Wash, rinse, repeat. It was routine. The cycle went on. Kris didn’t mind life much anymore, barely looking up at they performed it all like they were part of a machine. They were lucky to have Chara, anyway. Chara, who took them in even while they were in financial ruin and always tried to cheer them up while Kris just sat there blankly. Frisk was pretty chill too, and would express interest in the piano songs Kris listened to.

It was a life where they worked a lot and didn’t get much healthy relaxation, but that was just the way of the world. Or maybe they could change their lifestyle to be more feel-good, and just didn’t have the conviction.

Either way, there was no going back to their old life.

(Should I write anything more with this AU? Maybe elaborate on how the three got into this situation? Lemme know in the replies.)

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duskys-dreams · 8 months

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I was a ninja along with the rest of the party (it was a mix between Ninjago and DND) but I didn’t have powers. I was jealous toward my companions for their abilities, one of which was a different class called “selective ranger” which was basically just OP.

We were planning to take down a huge creature in the mountains by the sea. It was massive, vaguely canine-shaped, and a bit like a tortoise too. I wasn’t being very cooperative with the team, because that’s just who I was.

When we were very close to the lair, Jay wandered off to look at a specific cave. Suspicious, I followed him. It revealed a room with his ninja symbol and had all the information about him, including stuff he didn’t know. I wanted to find mine, because I wanted to learn what my powers were, so I took off.

I found my room quickly, but Jay followed me. I led him into the room right next to it that was basically a random abandoned bedroom. We poked around for a bit, then Jay suggested that we should leave. We did. Somehow, he didn’t notice the massive cave behind him inscribed with my ninja symbol.

As soon as he was gone, I snuck away and went into my room. It told me that my powers were that I was not affected by the plot at all, while the other ninja were. This also meant I didn’t have any plot armour, while they did. It also told me that I’m a rogue, but I already knew as much.

I left the room and found the ninja, sneaking up on the sleeping beast from all sides. Jay called out that he found something cool, and that startled the beast into waking, ruining the plan. Now the ninja had to fight normally, leaping around with their powers and trying not to get hit by the massive paws. They were never struck.

I dove in too, attacking with my blades. They did absolutely no damage to its thick hide, and it swatted me away. I died, but then I respawned a short ways away. I attacked again, rinse and repeat.

I finally realized that this wasn’t working. Not just what I was doing, but the entire team. It took barely any damage, and the Ninja were only barely dodging its attacks. Plot armour, I realized.

I flew down and shouted for everyone to stop. I then led the beast back into its lair, then they used their powers to seal the door. Mission accomplished, I guess. Strange how they attacked the beast when it wasn’t doing anything bad, just sleeping. In fact, why were we attacking it?

As the ninja were celebrating their win, I slipped inside the lair, which resembled my living room, and looked down at the beast. It looked... really sad.

Knowing it was probably a stupid idea, I flew down to the beast’s level and gave it a little pet. It liked it, and pushed against me for more pets. I continued petting, and the beast shrank until it was about the size of my dog, Clover. It slept in my lap as I continued petting.

The other ninja finally figured out what I was doing. They slipped through the rocks and demanded to know what was going on. I explained that the beast just wanted some company, it was lonely. They still got mad, because they were supposed to be killing it, not befriending it.

I refused and told them to go away, the beast was harmless now. Kai laughed in my face and asked me what I would do about it, the one with no powers. I told them that I am outside of the plot, and can mess it up as I pleased. As an example, I took out a dagger and stabbed Kai in the chest. He had only been bluffing, and was absolutely not expecting me to attack him. This was never supposed to happen.

In response to being injured, Kai’s powers went haywire, turning the entire area into an actual fiery hell. I hid under a dirt hill as fire and hellish monsters spewed everywhere.

We were in Terraria now.

I wanted the big and really cool dragon statue high above me, but there was a problem. At the top of the map, these skeletons that rode on phones would drop down and zip all over the top of the map. Getting the statue would be near-impossible.

Didn’t stop me from trying. The first time I was killed by monsters before I even got to the top. I respawned in a normal-looking area to the left, where Marcel was. We talked for a bit (don’t remember what it was about) and I went back into hell to retrieve my statue. This time, predictably, I was killed by the phone-riding skeletons.

I kept trying, to no avail. Eventually, I was forced to give up and wait in the normal area with all the other people.

Eventually, we started walking down the road, a massive collection of students. I got to talk to Rowan and Alex, which was awesome.

We entered a church, and a nun started a presentation with a projector. I didn’t care about it, and just started sneaking around looking for things to steal.

#dusky’s dreams #dream journal #lego ninjago #ninjago #kai ninjago #jay ninjago #dnd #terraria

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ibuttermybagle · 1 year

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Therapist approved hacks to not get burnout from studying (written by a former law school drop out that had a burnout and went to therapy):

Take breaks. I can't stress that enough. Take breaks often. Make them shorter but put them in there a lot. If you really wanna push it take 20 minute breaks before studying 20 minutes. Rinse and repeat. You'll get more shit done cause you can concentrate better and short study sessions don't need as much motivation.

Don't rest in your study room if you can. Studying in your bedroom? Rest in the livingroom. If you only have one room, change your position. Move from chair to bed or couch. Sit on the floor. Just get away from the desk.

Study at a desk only. Your brain will start connecting desk studying to being focused while studying in your bed might end up ruining your evening care by keeping your mind active instead of turning it into bed time.

Eat. Eat eat eat eat. You'll burn calories when studying so snack if you're hungry. If you can, eat healthy, however don't starve yourself while studying so rather take something unhealthy than nothing at all.

Skip afternoon coffees. It won't actually help you study that much, instead open the window to get fresh air or chew ice cubes. Wakes you up just as well.

Get a full night of sleep. I can't stress this one enough. A healthy sleep schedule is the first things most therapists have to work on with burnout patients because everyone is just so stuck in the "work now, sleep later" mindset. Which btw. doesn't really give you results because you'll be hellish tired next day and will be unable to focus in class and just get more work as a result.

Get two activities for once you're done studying: A hobby and something you do to rest. They're different. A hobby will drain your energy, even though you like doing it, something you do to rest will fill up your energy. (Example: My hobby is crocheting. My rest activity is drinking tea or coffee in the backyard and watching birds.)

Get organised. Yes, sorted chaos is also a way to be organised. If you're neurodivergent or mentally ill, you might struggle with a very strict sorting system. But have one nonetheless. You can just throw all your pens into one box, all your papers into another one and have all your study related books messily in just one cupboard. Have a system, no matter how bad.

Speak. To. People. I had 10 hour study sessions when I was in law school. I woke up in my room, sat on the desk in my room, ate in my room, went back to sleep in my room. Except for the occasional hello to my parents on the way to the toilet and for studybuddies online, I haven't talked to anyone. That's unhealthy. That makes you sick. "But I'm an introvert who likes to be alone" - that's fine. But even introverted people have to socialize. Just with the right people. If you don't like talking to anyone at all, consider talking to a health professional because that's not introversion, that's mental illness.

Get a tutor. (I'm not saying that because I'm a tutor myself now, but because I know how much that actually helps). Especially if you're still in school there are so many options for very little money. Or tons of options for more money if your parents agree to pay for them. Shy? Get an online tutor. Need that human contact I mentioned before? Get a personal tutor. Talking through the topics will always help more than just learning them by yourself. Which is another point:

Become a tutor. Teach someone the topic you're studying. Teach it to your siblings, parents, friends from another major or just help your friends out with the stuff they don't understand but you do. If you can gain a bit pocketmoney through it. Cool. If not, you got at least an easier time next exam season.

To summarise the most important points;

Eat, sleep, talk to people, take breaks and don't try to let yourself be fooled by motivational videos online.

#study #studyblr

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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heavylaythecrown · 3 years

Text

a million dreams

★ synopsis: maybe it was a good idea to take a break.

★ character(s): nanami kentō

★ warning: slightly suggestive at the end, canon divergent

★ words of the prophet: chapter 120 never happened for me. can be read as continuation for “overtime” (not necessarily). repost from @/miss-minty-writes

“this isn’t half bad!” you laugh, swirling the pink liquid of your drink in its glass a few times and taking a bite of the chocolate cake you were eating. “we should have come here sooner. the sun is great!”

“so it is, darling,” nanami agrees, lifting his sunglasses from his nose. he has a green cocktail next to him—one that you picked because you knew he loves limes. He stretches lightly, rubbing one of his cheeks. “the food is even better.”

“right? i loved that roti jala we ate the other day!”

breaks in Nanami’s field of work were rare. very rare—in fact, he himself didn’t like stopping for too long due to unforeseen problems that could occur. but, truth be told—whether he liked it or not—he needed a vacation. the stress accumulating was a little too much to bear sometimes, and a little escapade wouldn’t hurt anyway.

you perch your sunglasses on your head, turning on your tummy and crawling next to him, puckering your lips quietly. he knows what you want—and he gives it to you, planting a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “i spoil you too much, dear,” he chuckles when you grab his glass and slurp half of its contents in one go.

“but you love me,” you counter, tone light and playful. another soft kiss lands on your forehead and his warm palm brushes your hair from your face.

“hm. lucky you, i guess.”

“rude!”

nanami is a composed man. he keeps his emotions at bay because of how troublesome it is for him to act on impulse. he’s calm, collected, calculated. you love him like this, frighteningly accurate and precise—it gives you a feeling of safety. but you love him even more when he relaxes, the façade crumbling completely and letting himself enjoy life to the fullest.

the shibuya incident drained everyone of all resources available—so, naturally, after the mess was sorted out, the higher-ups allowed the high-grade sorcerers and the students alike to take a break from curse fighting.

you were ecstatic when gojo sent you the message, already having planned your next escapade with your husband—and while he didn’t show it, he was relieved he could get away from both work and a certain white-haired man (though his back cracked a bit when you jumped in his arms, tickets to malaysia in hands).

as long as he could remember, he didn’t have a reason to live—not a concrete one, at least. he knew what he had to do to push through, sure, and he was equipped with the necessary skills to survive. emotions suppressed and mind used to its full capacity, he monotonously weaved his way through life.

but was there anything to brighten his path?

he didn’t have long-term goals. graduate, graduate, graduate again, help people, get rid of curses—grow up, get a job, wake up, go to work, get off work, buy that delicious casse-croûte from the bakery, arrive home, go to sleep. rinse and repeat. tedious, really. he didn’t have time for distractions and he rarely looked for things to enjoy.

everything changed when you made your way into his life.

you were too bright for his taste—always eager to try new things and get out of routine, his polar opposite. reckless, maybe a bit dense. he didn’t like you at first—you reminded him too much of haibara.

with time, he realized that he had misjudged you. you were, indeed, a lot like his old friend—but you had your own way of doing things, of thinking—of being. and he started liking you.

he started liking your interests, too. he often found himself humming a song you’d sang the day prior, or craving something you remotely mentioned three weeks ago. he even bought a succulent after you told him that plants improve life quality—and you were right. his little buddy, whom he had taken care of meticulously, was a great… something… that he could talk to about things he couldn’t bring up with you.

he started sharing your dreams. the way you wanted to move to another country, to read as many books as you can, to travel, to try good food and have fun. to relax.

you understood him. his cold demeanor was somewhat of a protective shell for the outer world. you coaxed him out of it and held his hand every step of the way as you guided him forwards.

so he stuck with you. and you glued yourself to him.

he never considered marriage before you brought it up during dinner one night, casually giggling like a schoolgirl talking to her crush as you told him about a friend of yours, whose partner had proposed in a very gushy way. he wasn’t one for lovey-dovey stuff—but something in him awakened at the glint in your eye as you went on and on about some guys getting bound forever.

bound forever. yeah. that sounded good. he’ll buy a nice ring soon enough.

then came the kids. he noticed the way your eyes lingered on babies a little too much, how you cradled them in your arms gently, as if they were yours—he somehow got the urge to see you with your own baby in your arms as he came back from work and kissed your forehead.

these things are puzzling him—but then again, it’s you. you puzzle him—yet he doesn’t mind it one bit.

back at the hotel, late at night, after a full day of visiting, shopping and fooling around in the malaysian sun, you change your shirt after a well-deserved shower. nanami is already in bed, browsing aimlessly through a site you can’t quite make, hair freshly dried and held back with one of your black hair clips. He looks very concentrated, though, and you giggle.

“what’s gotten you so worked up, ken?” you ask, drying your hair with a towel. he hums, closing his phone and putting it on the nightstand.

“nothing. just house hunting.”

“…what?”

“you always said you wanted to move abroad, didn’t you?” he states calmly, rubbing an eye. “this just might be our chance.”

you watch him incredulously, eyes wide and towel long forgotten. is he for real? this isn’t a split second decision, what about the sorcerer community, your friends—

a gentle hand moves over yours, squeezing it lightly to bring you back down to earth. his smile is as soft as always and he inches closer to you, producing a black velvet box from one of his pockets.

“i wanted to ask for your hand in a proper way—maybe during a dinner in town. something romantic anyway. i just realized that anything can be romantic if i set the mood right.” he opens the box, revealing a delicate golden band, adorned with a small emerald in the center and lined with a few diamonds. “so… will you marry me?”

it comes naturally to you to wrap your arms around his neck—tears of joy falling from your eyes as you straddle him and push him in the mattress, muttering incoherently after a string of yes, yes, yes. your control doesn’t last long, though—he immediately flips you over, a smirk settling on his lips as he licks them.

“oh, i almost forgot. i have another gift for you—since it’s painfully obvious you want a little one to take care of and watch running around,” he breathes into your neck, placing a sweet kiss on your skin. “how about we start a family? how does that sound to you, my dear?”

#[ raphael’s blessing ]#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff

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silversatoru · 3 years

Text

birthdays don’t have to suck

fushiguro megumi x f!reader (elli)

synopsis: you get really sick on your birthday, but megumi makes sure that you still have a good day :))

t/w: fluff, reader is sick, vomiting, medicine (tylenol lol), some details pertain specifically to elli

wc: 2.2k

a/n: a small birthday present for the love of my life @megumifushi who never sleeps enough and is always sick,, i love u and i hope ur days not too bad <3

you stared into your dimly lit laptop, red eyes squinting at the black text that sped across the screen as your fingers scrambled against the keys. you weren’t even sure that what you were writing was comprehensible at this point, but your essay that was due tomorrow morning wasn’t gonna write itself. at this point it just needed to get done, concerns of quality were thrown out the window hours ago.

aside from the burning and stinging in your eyes, your entire body ached, and you were ridden with chills and goosebumps. seemed like a fever was coming on, but you didn’t have the time or capacity to care about that right now. you’d pop a few tylenol and crawl into bed in a couple hours, and everything would be better tomorrow.

what time was it anyway? it couldn’t possibly be that late yet, right?

you glanced to the corner of the screen, eyes falling on a bright 3:56am that made your heart sink and your eyes widen. you had a terrible habit of losing track of time and staying up into ungodly hours of the night — a habit that your wonderful boyfriend was trying so terribly hard to break.

you glanced to your left and took in his sleeping form, his lips parted ever so slightly as he took small breaths of air. he’d be disappointed and upset with you if he knew how horrid your sleep schedule had been lately, and he’d probably blame your chills and headaches on your lack of sleep as well — which in all fairness was probably pretty accurate.

“i’ll just finish this up real quick and then i promise i’ll sleep, ‘kay gumi?” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his soft, spiky hair.

he was undisturbable, his mind off somewhere in a dreamland that was quite the distance from your small bedroom. and that was probably for the better, because him nagging at you to go to sleep would be too distracting for you to get your work done.

your hands moved rapidly against the keyboard for about another hour, words spilling onto the screen until you finally hit the page requirement for your paper. it was probably terrible, most likely had a few words spelled wrong, and honestly you were pretty certain you’d repeated yourself several times, but fuck it — submit. you were typically an excellent student, so one bad paper wouldn’t kill you, and you were too tired and achy to care right now.

you got up and placed your laptop onto your desk, plugging it in and letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips as you made your way back over to the bed. the soft blankets were therapeutically warm on your chilly skin as you crawled in against megumi’s back, effectively turning him into the little spoon and pressing your nose to the back of his neck. thankfully, sleep found you shortly after, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off into a much needed slumber.

babe

wake up

babe

you woke up to small finger pokes to your cheek from megumi, his face laced with concern as your vision finally focused on his features. he bent over and pressed his lips to your forehead, pausing there for a fraction of a second and then standing back up.

“i think you have a fever. i noticed when i woke up and you felt like a fucking space heater,” he frowned, confirming your initial suspicions from last night, “i’ll go get some medicine”.

you groggily nodded your head, shivers coursing through your body and dotting your extremities with goosebumps. your condition had definitely deteriorated overnight, your eyes stinging and a horrible nausea creeping up your throat.

by the time he returned with the medicine you had yourself propped up against the pillows, thick blankets pulled up to your chin in an attempt to minimize the icy feeling in your body. he handed two small tylenol tablets to you with a disappointed look on his face — a look that said: i’m gonna kick your ass for not getting enough sleep again.

“i’ll let everyone know you’re not feeling well enough to go out tonight,” he hummed as he handed you a glass of water, your brain filling with thick fog as you tried to decipher why he would need to let anyone know you were sick.

the look of pure confusion signaled to him that you had no idea what he was talking about, megumi shaking his head before he spoke up again, “it’s your birthday, dumbass, we were supposed to get food and stuff with yuuji, inumaki, and nobara and maki”.

birthday

forgetting about that was another habit you continued to succumb to every year.

“mm, shit,” you sighed after drinking back the pills, “i forgot”.

“figured you would,” megumi clicked his tongue, “but i didn’t, because i’m a good boyfriend. can you drag yourself out to the kitchen? you should eat”.

“don’t think so,” you mumbled, attempting to disappear back under the blankets before he could coerce you to follow him outside of the bedroom.

but megumi is impossibly even more stubborn than you are, wrapping his arms under your body and lifting you to his chest, “guess i’ll just have to carry you then”.

“fine,” you let out a long groan — was it a bit dramatic? maybe. but in your defense you felt like you’d been hit with a train.

he peppered your face with kisses as he carried you out of the bedroom, lovingly setting you down on one of the high bar stools around your kitchen table. he instructed you to stay in the chair, abruptly returning to the bedroom to bring out a couple blankets to wrap around your shoulders. you were grateful for the extra heat, you body still shaking and shivering as the medications worked to cure your fever.

megumi was a man of few words, preferring to display his love for you through acts of service than grand confessions, and this was very eminent when he wordlessly grabbed a couple pots and began cooking for you. you let your face fall onto your arms, resting your chin as you watched him silently shuffle between the stove and the pantry. the silence was comfortable, and you weren't going to complain about watching your muscular boyfriend walk around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of loose, plaid pajama pants.

a few minutes later he was placing a steaming bowl of soup and a couple slices of baked bread in front of you, a savory scent flooding your nostrils.

“red lentil,” he spoke as he handed you a spoon, “it’s your favorite, so you better eat it”.

“yes, sir,” you gave him a small smile, dipping the cool metal into the hot liquid and scooping a spoonful into your mouth.

“all of it”

“yes, megumi, i will try”

to no surprise, the soup went down pretty fucking horribly, your head hanging low over the toilet while megumi held your hair out of the way. your throat was practically raw by the time you were done heaving and vomiting up the meal, your eyes brimming with hot tears.

megumi tied your hair up in a neat bun so he could step away, filling up a glass with water and carefully helping you to take small sips and rinse out your mouth. he was tedious with the clean up, washing your face and helping you brush your teeth — ensuring that you felt the best you could given the situation. he then scooped you back into his arms, carrying you back to bed and profusely apologizing for making you eat the soup — but he was just trying to make you feel better, he really was doing his best.

you were ready to add today to your long list of terrible birthdays, chalking it up as another failed attempt, but megumi was not about to let that happen. he knew you had a rough history with birthdays, but now that he was here? you’d have a bad birthday over his dead body.

he scoured the back of your fridge for ginger ale, gatorade, jello, and whatever else he could find to make you the perfect sick-person platter. and he made sure he was logged into every streaming service that the two of you collectively owned, preparing netflix, hulu, and crunchy roll so that he could easily access every single one of your favorite shows and movies. and so you spent the majority of your day tucked safely against megumi’s chest, forcing down small sips of ginger ale and watching an assortment of tv.

your phone rang at some point — a facetime call from all of your friends who had gotten together so they could all wish you a collective happy birthday. megumi stuck a singular candle into a cup of blue-raspberry jello and ignited it with a small flame; and then they all sang the most terrible rendition of “happy birthday” that you’d ever heard, yuuji’s voice a little louder and little more out-of-tune than everyone else's.

you mustered enough energy to blow out the flame, everyone cheering while megumi shoveled a scoop of the blue jelly into your mouth. you swallowed it with a smile, praying it stayed down while everyone sent you off with an assortment of “feel better!”, “we love you!”, and “wish you were here!”

your night got pretty quiet after that, you and megumi climbing back under the covers to watch a few more episodes of your new favorite anime. it wasn’t until well into the night that he finally asked you if he could give you the presents he’d gotten for you. reluctantly, you said yes. you hated receiving gifts (it was just one of the many reasons you hated your birthday) but you knew that megumi wasn’t going to take no for answer.

he was obviously nervous, palms sweaty as he handed you a couple neatly wrapped packages in plain, solid colored paper. they were very megumi, perfect folds with not a single crease, the paper simple yet elegant and adorned with a singular bow on top.

you hesitantly peeled the paper off the smaller of the two, revealing a tiny box that contained a classic looking silver locket. you felt your heart pinch in your chest as you clicked the locket open and revealed two small pictures of each of the two of you. you weren’t particularly sentimental, but on top of your lack of sleep and not feeling very well, the simple gift caused few tears to well up in your eyes. but he was quick to wipe them away, insisting that you had to open the second gift first, and that birthdays weren’t meant for crying.

you followed his instructions, ripping open the second package and revealing a larger box that contained a series of envelopes. each one was decorated with tiny doodles of you and megumi, his demon dogs, hearts, etc. they were sickeningly cute, and you immediately reached for the first one before megumi reached out and stopped you.

“they’re not for now; they’re for when i’m gone, you know, on missions and stuff,” he could barely even maintain eye contact, his eyes dipping low as yours filled back up with tears.

despite your lack of energy and the fever that was starting to return, you showered him in hugs and kisses after that, thanking him over and over for the most perfect gifts, and for making your day as wonderful as it could have been.

all things aside, you were coming around to the idea that birthday’s don’t have to suck.

bonus: the first letter:

to y/n:

i know im not great at telling you what i have to say through words, actually, i’m kind of really bad at it. but i thought writing these might be a nice way to try and get better? i’m not sure. anyway, i guess i’ll start by saying that you mean a lot to me, and i probably miss you a lot right now (even though ill be too afraid to reach out and say it). not sure how long i’ll be gone for at the time but it’s probably a few days at least. gonna work hard so i can hurry back to see you.

i hope you’re sleeping enough, but i know you’re not. you never do, especially when i’m not there to yell at you. i hope you’re eating enough too. but you’re probably also not doing that. you’re like taking care of a stubborn child, you know that? but this is supposed to be a love letter so i’ll try to refrain from scolding you too much. but do try to take care of yourself. ill see you soon.

megumi

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro fluff #silvers mutuals <3 #megumifushi

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noriyoshi · 3 years

Text

Ice Ice Baby - kjk (m)

pairing: sub!junkyu x gender-neutral!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.5k

warnings: oral (male-receiving), ice play

synopsis: trying out ice play with Junkyu for the first time.

a/n: inspired by a convo i had a while ago with @nari-nim! not proofread bc im sleepy rn so sorry... also i feel like i really like writing junkyu receiving oral? idk he’s very cute and we should all think abt sub!kyu more often <3 feedback is always appreciated!

Junkyu laid with his back on the bed, his arms and legs outstretched. You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him closely. He watched back with a cute little pout forming on his lips. You hadn’t even touched him yet but he was already fully hard. You were going to have fun with him tonight.

You lean towards the night stand and grab a cup filled with ice that you had prepared not long ago, pulling a cube out. Junkyu’s eyes never leave your figure, following your hand as you bring the ice cube to your lips. You suckle on it for a moment, coating your tongue with the cool liquid as it begins to melt. Once you’re satisfied you place it back in the cup and lean down to kiss Junkyu. Your lips ghost right over his and he can feel the cool puff of air leave your lips. You kiss him slowly, your tongue entangling with his, countering his much more desperate pace.

You kiss him until your mouth goes warm again. Just the feeling of his plush, pink lips against yours makes you feel like you’re in heaven. You tease him; pulling his lower lip between your teeth, your tongue licking in his mouth before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and hovering just out of his reach. He cranes his head up but you pull back again much to his dismay. He wants to kiss you so badly but he knows moving out of this position you’ve placed him in will result in a punishment.

You sit up again, turning slightly and shifting your knee up onto the bed for a more comfortable position. As you face him, you lean on your left arm and bring your right hand up to his cheek, caressing the soft flesh. Your thumb traces his lips which fall open, begging for you to put it in his mouth.

You oblige and coo at him as he sucks on your thumb. “You’re okay with this?” you ask, tracing your free hand over his abdomen and watching his muscles contract. He groans against your finger as you continuously graze your nails lower down his body. The boy nods eagerly. “Please.” he begs when you pull your finger away. Please what? you’re tempted to tease him. But he’s been so good for you today, you think you’ll go easy on him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop.” is the last thing you say.

You take the melting ice cube into your hands once more and drag it down Junkyu’s chest in one long, drawn out line. He clenches his teeth at the feeling, watching you as your tongue laps up the wet trail. You drag the ice cube over his chest, your tongue always close behind. Junkyu feels insane at the heavenly feeling of your warm tongue tracing over the remnants that the cool, stinging cube left behind. He bites his lip, relaxing as he gets used to the contrast in temperature. He doesn’t get to rest for long though because the feeling of the ice cube tracing over his hardened nipple has him gasping.

Unlike the other times, you don’t trace your tongue over it just yet. You opt to continue swirling the cube around, until Junkyu’s nipple is pink and perfectly taut. He begins to fidget at the cold feeling so you oblige and suck his nipple into your mouth.

Junkyu’s mewl could put a whore to shame. His back arched into you as you bite down on it playfully before letting it go. “Y/N” he moans pathetically. “Hm?” you hum against his chest as you repeat the action with his other nipple. Junkyu cries out when you bite a bit harder this time, bucking his hips into the air helplessly. You continue the action, alternating between biting down and flicking your tongue. Once you’re satisfied with one, you do the same to the other until Junkyu is crying for you to stop.

“I’m g-gon-gonna cum,” he wails.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head. “Not yet. You can wait a little longer for me, can’t you?”

He nods. “What was that?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

You look to the cup and grab another ice cube. The temperature in the room is a lot warmer now and they’re beginning to melt. On the plus side, it’s that much easier to glide them against Junkyu’s skin, watching as it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

You suck on the cube again, your tongue exceptionally cold as you straddle the lower half of Junkyu’s body and kiss your way down. Once your face reaches his hips, you suck the ice cube again, your tongue tracing over Junkyu’s cock. You could see the vein pulsating, more precum dripping down his cock at his excitement. “Fuck,” he groans absolutely reeling at the feeling of finally being touched where he needed it most. You play with the ice a bit more, warming it in your hands and letting it drip over his length, your tongue always licking it up right after.

Junkyu watches as your left hand wraps around his length, spit dripping from your mouth down the shaft before giving a few weak tugs. Your tongue traces around the head, your eyes meet Junkyu’s for a fleeting second as you look up. His face is flushed, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. He’s watching you with such a dazed yet intense look, you can feel your insides tingling. You place the rapidly melting ice against the head of his cock. Junkyu whimpering at the cold feeling.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a huff. You wrap your lips around his length and sink down until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Oh, fuck,” he moans out. You began bobbing your head, putting one hand on his thigh to steady yourself and the other to help you blow him. His hands grip the sheets to keep himself from tangling in your hair. It takes everything in him to keep still as you continue to blow him.

You lick from the base of his cock to the tip, making sure to trace your tongue over the vein. The more you get into it, the more Junkyu does too. You can tell that he’s not going to last much longer because he’s thrown all precaution to the wind. He’s no longer cautious of any sound he might make or about keeping as still as he can. He’s rolling his hips up trying to get as much of your mouth around him in one go as you can. The obscene sounds of you swallowing around his length and the fact that you’ve been teasing him for so long already have him on the edge of an orgasm.

“Shit, that feels so good,” Junkyu moans.

You’re swirling your tongue around Junkyu’s shaft and bobbing down as much as you can when Junkyu’s hips buck up. You moan and gag at the sudden intrusion; Junkyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head. You pull off of him, your saliva thickly coating his dick as you stroke him. The ice has long melted and your cold, wet fingers are now warm too.

You fish out the last ice cube from the cup which is now mostly water and use it to stroke Junkyu to orgasm. He’s thrashing underneath you, pleas to cum and whines of how good it feels spilling from his lips. He’s so close.

You change positions and straddle him again, your hand coming between your bodies to stroke him fast while the other fondles his balls. Your lips get to work marking his neck and chest, reddish spots blooming on his sensitive skin. He becomes overtaken by the pleasure of your mouth and hands on his body, his hips begin to speed up in time with the movements of your hand. You continue this movement until moments later Junkyu is spilling all over his stomach (and yours). You stroke him through his orgasm, continuing until the tears in his eyes are spilling over and he’s gripping at your wrist, body trembling at the oversensitivity.

“You did so well, kyu.” you pat his head, running your fingers softly through his hair as he steadies his breathing and comes back from his haze. He looks at you with the cutest smile, it’s tinged with sleepiness and you know he’ll doze off any second.

“Was that good? It wasn’t too much was it?” you walk over to the bathroom in the other side of the room and rinse a towel in warm water. Junkyu’s drinking water from a bottle you had put on the nightstand as you approach him.

“Was so good,”

You clean him up with the towel, discarding it into the dirty clothes bin when you’re done.

You drink some water yourself and you both get changed into pajamas before assuming your positions in bed, this time in your usual cuddling positions.

“Good night, Y/N” he yawns, snuggling into your chest.

“Sleep tight, baby.” you wrap your arms around him and the both of you doze off into a deep sleep.

#treasure smut #junkyu smut #kim junkyu #treasure scenarios #treasure drabbles #junkyu scenarios #junkyu #junkyu drabbles #i have sub!kyu brainrot now so i love it here #also will try to post a hyunsuk thing im doing soon #and maybe smthn else but #i have finals soon so i might not have much time :/#we'll see

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angrelysimpping · 3 years

Note

Hmmm so

Trauma related stuff with Alex and Wren?

Y’all are some masochists. You okay?

I swear the next thing I'm writing is fluff.

( bits that could be seen as victim-blaming, unhealthy coping mechanisms, nightmares, alcohol, angst)

Alex

Traumatized partner

How did you even get to their farm without passing out? Mildly impressed but also panicking.

Not able to keep a close eye on you because they still have a farm to run.

Will set you up in their room with food, water, and really anything you could want. Any downtime Alex has, they come in to check on you.

If you tell Alex how you got traumatized, they're going to get angry. Their protection instinct is already on overdrive, what with Remy poking around. You're just adding fuel to the fire.

Will insist you stay with them as long as you need to.

Will sleep in the bed with you if you ask them to but otherwise they will sleep in a spare bedroom or on the couch, letting you have their bed.

I can’t see Alex trying to initiate anything while you’re still heavily traumatized. As you recover, the likelihood of them initiating something goes up. Feels a little hurt if you reject them, with the hurt they feel scaling with how recovered you are. Knows they shouldn’t feel hurt and tries to hide it from you. Keyword being try. Point it out and Alex will apologize.

Traumatizing their partner

Will not believe off the bat that they are the root of your trauma. It's gotta be stress from the farm or the constant threat of Remy’s people looming over you, not them!

As time goes on, they will accept responsibility for your trauma.

Sets you up in their bed while they work. Might not visit you as often because they feel guilty. Would understand if you want to leave the farm and is willing to find a way to get you back to town if you want.

The probability of Alex trying to instate something is low but not zero. Even then, it wouldn't be full-on sex. Wants to show you they are sorry and thinks bringing you a bit of pleasure in this way might do it. Won't get upset if you reject them.

After you recover they'll try to avoid doing whatever it was that caused you trauma. You are going to have to explicitly tell them what it was though because, unless it was something BIG, Alex still doesn't know exactly what they did to traumatize you.

Traumatized

Alex ignores their trauma. Will throw themselves into their work. They cannot stop working for any reason, even their own health.

Does not have healthy coping mechanisms! They grew up with a bunch of siblings and it was hard to get anyone's attention when shit hit the fan.

Probably one of the best at keeping a calm front up. They have farm work to keep them preoccupied and years of masking their emotions.

You'll notice Alex is quieter when working together, less carefree when relaxing, and more likely to snap at the animals than normal.

You'll have to ask them about it after the work is done for the day. You're going to have to sit them down and pointedly ask them what's bothering them. They'll keep denying anything is wrong but, now that they don't have work to keep their hands and mind occupied, the signs that something is up are even more obvious.

Will continue to deny that anything is wrong. Make an excuse about needing to spend the night and Alex will offer you a spare bed. They want company but they don't want to ask you to stay. Then they would be admitting that something was wrong.

Alex will be able to keep up appearances until they fall asleep. The minute they're in a deep enough sleep to dream, they have nightmares.

Alex is a heavy sleeper, making it hard to wake up even when they're moaning in their sleep like a wounded animal, tossing and turning until their sheets are twisted around them. It will wake you up

If you ignore Alex and go back to sleep, Alex won't wake up from their nightmares. They'll wake up at their normal time, drained from lack of rest, and go about their day. Rinse and repeat until they heal on their own, which will take quite a while because they're taking no breaks and they keep having restless nights.

Go comfort Alex, please. Please. Just get them untangled from their sheets and slide into bed next to them. The moment you press up against them, Alex starts to calm down.

Disoriented when they wake up. Slightly embarrassed that you had to calm them down.

You can, at this point, get Alex to tell you what's wrong.

You'll be able to force Alex to take the day off. You'll have to do all the work around the farm but it means Alex will actually rest.

As they recover, Alex will start to do a few things around the farm that are less labor-intensive. Might seek out sexual activities but not full-on sex. More likely to cuddle than start something.

Will want you to sleep in the same bed as them as they recover.

Once fully recovered, Alex will be even more touchy-feely with you. Won't need alcohol to initiate sex, as much, anymore.

Wren

Traumatized partner

Oh, they’re angry.

Wants you to immediately tell them how you’ve become traumatized so they can wreak havoc.

It's going to be interesting if you’re traumatized from being on Remy’s farm because Wren is immediately out the door, searching for a can of petrol and a lighter.

Get Wren to take you somewhere else before they start enacting their revenge plans.

Wren will take you to a safe house.

Will have their friends take care of you. They’re not good at caregiving and they don’t want to botch the job. Will hang out with you while you recover and play card games. Not Black Jack though, that’s for more lively occasions. Nah, you guys are playing kids games and betting snacks on them.

You do not have to ask Wren to spend the night with you, they were already planning on it. If you want them to leave, they will leave the room but not the building.

Understands if you don’t want to have sex, will ask if you want them to make you cum though.

Traumatizing their partner

A little bit of a prick about it at first. You should have known better than to get close to Wren, they’re a criminal. Wild shit happens around them all the time! You should have been more careful!

Almost immediately feels bad about blaming you for your trauma.

Wren is struggling. They know that, realistically, they should try to help you recover. It’s their fault that you’re traumatized, after all. Problem is, Wren has no idea how to help you. They’ve never had to take care of another person. They’ve got their group of friends and they take care of each other. Wren isn’t the best at caregiving so they just, never have.

Ends up doing for you what they would want to be done for them in a similar situation. They take you to a quiet, secluded room and let you rest. They’ll come in and check in on you occasionally but otherwise leave you alone.

Will want to take care of you themselves and get completely overwhelmed. Eventually, Wren asks their friends for advice on how to help you. Wren is raked of the coals for having traumatized you.

Wren’s friends will show up to help you recover. You’re Wren’s S/O, so you’re part of the family now. Wren’s friends will move you from whatever hidey-hole Wren has you set up in, taking you to a safe house where all of them can look after you.

Wren visits you at least once a day. They feel guilty, seeing you having to recover from something they did to you. They’re a criminal, they’re not supposed to feel guilt!

Will wait until you’re on the mend to ask if they can sleep in the same bed as you. Open to doing pretty much whatever you want them to do, sex-wise. They’re mostly going to focus on getting you off as a form of apology.

Does actually verbally apologize to you.

Traumatized

They are the best at hiding their problems. They are a professional criminal, they gotta be good at hiding their emotions.

I once said that Wren is better at dealing with and expressing their emotions than Whitney and, while I think that's still true, they both deal with trauma poorly.

Will act like everything is fine until they’re alone with their friends.

Wren is convinced that all they need to feel better is to knock back a few shots and play a few rounds of Black Jack with their friends.

As Wren lets their mask drop around their friends more, Wren’s friends will get more concerned. Their friends know something is up but whenever they try to talk to Wren about it, Wren deflects.

You find out because one of Wren's friends hunts you down and tells you Wren is in a bad way and won't let anyone help. They think Wren will listen to you.

Getting onto the Remy estate is easy at this point. You're not sure if the guards recognize you, and just assume that you're supposed to be there, or if Wren put in a word for you.

By the time you get to them, Wren's control is starting to crack and they're starting to slip into something of a manic state. They've drunk a lot more than they usually do, taking shots just for the hell of it.

Wren immediately pulls you into their lap, bypassing the usual song and dance you guys play.

Wren is talking a mile a minute about absolutely nothing while dealing cards. They're still good at Black Jack, even while tipsy and rambling.

Just let Wren talk themselves out and keep them from drinking more. Get them some water. Will drink the water but only if you sit in Wren's lap and occasionally push the cup against their lips.

You can get them to eat something if you win a round of Black Jack.

They're very touchy but not interested in having sex. Wren will play with your hair, stroke your back, or give you kisses on your face and neck.

Eventually calms down enough for you to ask them what’s wrong. Wren initially tries to shrug off your questions. It’s when you say you’re worried about them that Wren acknowledges that something is wrong.

Wren will not tell you what has caused them trauma, even though it was you asking after their health that makes them realize they’ve been acting in a self-destructive manner.

Their friends will take care of them from here. One of them will walk you off the estate while the rest fuss over Wren. You’re told to come back in about a week, Wren will want to thank you for bringing them to their senses.

The next time you see Wren, they look leagues better. Wren will apologize for having made you worry, looking sheepish the whole while.

After helping them recover, you sometimes swear Wren is throwing games of Black Jack.

#degrees of lewdity #my writing #degrees of lewdity wren #degrees of lewdity alex #Alex the Farmhand #Wren the Smuggler

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