#cause like. most if not all of them are right next to us in the chopping block

[chronic-conjuring]

I think the term/acronym for OCD has become way too overused (like a frighteningly large amount of clinical, psychological terms tbh) and too many people have a fundamental misunderstanding of what the fuck OCD actually is and looks like.

Too often do we see distasteful, harmful jokes and representations of OCD as just a “clean freak germaphobe” or someone being overly obsessive about the placement of every single thing in their house and then you get the overused (and frankly fucking stupid) “haha I need things to be in a specific order or else it drives me CRAZY!! 🤪🤪 iM sO OcD!! 🤪🤪🤪” kinda lines and it’s absolute bullshit. Sure, those first two are very common symptoms we see in people with OCD but that’s literally not what’s going on??? They aren’t just bothered by the placement of things because it annoys them on some level, they have irrational fears.

So now when we see people genuinely discussing the reality of dealing with OCD, having compulsions to do certain things due to fear of certain consequences if they happen to do/not do it properly and excessive, irrational anxieties, we get shit like this where people are wholeheartedly ignorant of what that even means. Like, people w OCD aren’t necessarily clean freaks because messes and germs give them The Ick™️ (like what many people without this disorder experience) they’re genuinely, extremely irrationally afraid of what could happen should they not keep things in a certain order or wash their hands three times in a row etc.

For example, someone could have an irrational fear that their clothes not being organized in a specific way will in some way cause a loved one to die unexpectedly, if they don’t excessively sanitize the counter after making a sandwich themselves or someone else will get severely, life-threateningly sick, or if they interact with a certain number in any way something bad will happen (“if I eat 5 cookies instead of 4 [something bad] will happen”). These all sound a little ridiculous, right? THATS THE POINT. THEYRE IRRATIONAL FEARS. THATS WHY THIS IS A DISORDER. ITS NOT SUPPOSED TO MAKE SENSE TO PEOPLE OUTSIDE THE PERSON WHO HAS OCD’S BRAIN!!!!

You CAN see how someone might come to some conclusions, the thought process of “germs make people sick, if I leave things dirty people might get sick” is a fairly rational one, the irrational part comes with the thought continuing with something like “I have just made a sandwich on a clean plate and not gotten anything on the countertop, but if I leave this countertop without wiping it down with disinfectant I could’ve possibly left some kind of contamination and now whoever uses this countertop next will get salmonella/ food poisoning/ an allergic reaction. I MUST wipe it down several times until it is Clean Enough” that sounds just a little ridiculous right? But you can see how someone might come to that conclusion. Which is probably why the most commonly thought of aspects of OCD get boiled down to germophobia and excessive cleanliness, it’s closer to something other people can relate to or understand on some level.

And then there’s other fears that make no sense with little to no logic for others to follow such as “if I don’t lock this door PERFECTLY CORRECTLY someone will break into my house and kill me. I must unlock and re-lock this door until It Is Perfect” logically, a locked door is a locked door. Whether or not you turned it slowly, quickly or whatever, the door is properly locked by the time you’re done with it. That doesn’t matter to someone with OCD. Somehow, someway, locking it too slowly or too quickly will lead to some catastrophic failure and suddenly in their head they are then vulnerable, so they will stand there and lock the door as many times it’s takes for their brain to say “that’s perfect, I’m safe now”.

By reducing OCD into just some quirky thing some people experience, we are doing a major disservice to everyone suffering from this disorder and we allow stuff like this, where people are equating being afraid of something happening to mean they must actually secretly want that thing to happen or to do that thing, to happen and actively harm people with OCD. Too many people misunderstand that it is irrational thinking and fears that drive OCD behaviors, not some hidden internal want for it to happen. Do better

[demie90s]

Can you write a reader x UConn team and reader has like no filter like they could be in the most serious moment and reader would say something out of pocket

Why she got a mic?

UConn WBB Team x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Me. The team’s walking HR violation. No matter the mood, you will say something that has the whole team side-eyeing, laughing, or questioning reality.

Word Count: ~ 0.5k

Genre: Comedy, Team Fluff, Mild Crack

Warnings: Cussing, chaos, suggestiveness, mentions of thirst, reader being out of pocket at all times

The mic wasn’t even all the way clipped to your jersey before you started talking.

“So like…y’all gon’ feed us after this right? ‘Cause I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but that little fruit tray y’all gave us pregame made me feel like a parrot.”

You were dead serious. Meanwhile, the rest of the UConn team was already doing synchronized neck turns to Geno, who stared ahead like maybe if he focused hard enough he could astral project into retirement.

The reporter chuckled awkwardly. “Right, well—uh—let’s talk about the game. You had a breakout performance in the third quarter. What clicked?”

You nodded solemnly. “I had to pee real bad so I was tryna hurry up and get off the court. Y’all saw me running? That was urgency. It’s called motivation.”

Laughter broke out across the room. Aubrey dropped her head into her hands. Nika was crying silently.

Someone else raised their hand—braver than most.

“You guys really shut down USC’s offense tonight. What went into that defensive game plan?”

You tilted your head. “I mean, yeah. I saw that. USC good and all…but not as good as us so like…I don’t really care. Sorry.”

Caroline leaned in with a PR-smile. “What she means is we watched a lot of film and trusted each other—”

“No,” you cut in. “That’s not what I meant. I said what I said.”

The reporter blinked. “A-And uh—Aubrey, you had a great night on the boards…”

You slouched in your chair. “Yeah, and yet still no date.”

Aubrey snapped her head toward you. “Yo—”

“I told her, I said, ‘If God see fit and we win tonight, you gon’ say yes’—and we did. We won. And she still didn’t say yes. So she fake but that’s between her and the Lord.”

KK was wheezing. “You need help.”

You turned to her calmly. “Nah I need a girlfriend. Two different things.”

The reporter next to the stage was beet red now, trying not to laugh into their notes. “Okay, uh…next question—what was going through your mind during that final play?”

You crossed one leg over the other like this was Oprah. “I was thinking, if the world ended right then, we’d all go with it, so I might as well go out with a win. That’s real.”

Geno rubbed his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

You leaned into the mic again, like a closing statement. “Thank you. And please remember to feed athletes. We is hungry.”

The PR rep jumped in so fast her paper nearly flew off the table. “That’s it! Thanks so much, everyone!”

The moment y’all stepped backstage, Geno turned slowly.

“You know they record those, right?”

“Yeah Coach.”

“And they post them.”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re going to get us sued.”

You gave him your most sincere expression. “It’s okay. I got a lil savings.”

He looked like he aged ten years in five seconds.

Behind you, Aubrey shoved your shoulder, laughing. “Yo are you alright.”

You shrugged. “I’m just honest. And single. And hungry. Somebody gone address it.”

Just like that, you were back in the locker room, already hyping yourself up for post-game food and probably more chaos. Because filters are for water—not for you.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[kdh-tally]

Huntr/x and The Saja Boys being Jealous

Prompt : How Huntr/x and the Saja Boys would react to their partner being flirted with. @erisanix

Author’s Note : I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this 😭 Hope you enjoy!!! So it was only after writing this (and preparing to publish this) that I realised you probably meant partner as in the reader... I'm so sorry- and will rewrite this if you want

Abby when someone flirts with Mira

The two of them are working out.

Neither of them need it but Abby insists that they work to keep their muscles in shape (insert unnecessary flexing here)

Some dude decides to work out next to them and when abby leaves to grab them water, the person takes their chance to talk with Mira. 

His first reaction is to laugh. 

Like, genuinely finds it funny.

How did anyone have the audacity to flirt with Mira???

“You’re trying to flirt with her?”

“Oh… you’re serious.”

He’d walk over, arm casually slipping over her shoulder as she glares at the person trying to make a move on her

He wouldn’t say a thing first and would just stand there smiling.

Normally, most people would use their brains and back off once they see that:

1. Mira isn’t interested

2. This huge guy with muscles in standing by her like a body guard and could very much easily beat them up

However, lets say the person keeps going

While Abby knows fully well that Mira can handle herself, he likes playing knight-in shining armour.

“She’s taken” he’d smirk condescendingly at the person (who is now shaking in their boots) 

He doesn’t get jealous so much, but will get competitive.

It also gives him an extra EXTRA confidence boost knowing that he (and romance ig 😒) is actually Mira’s boyfriend.

“You think she’d want you? Try again in your next life.”

(He wouldn’t say this in front of Mira of course cause she would obliterate him)

Once they’re gone, he’s gentle and playful again.

“I feel bad for them”

“Why?”

“Don’t you remember how long it took me and romance to convince you to go out with us?”

“Yea-”

“And you liked us” he pointed out in disbelief “That poor person bro. They stood no chance” he’d shake his head dramatically watching the flirter walk away defeatedly.

Romance when someone flirts with Mira

They were both in the practice room. Mira testing out new lyrics with him and Romance just watching her.

A new staff member, who wasn’t briefed on any of the relationships between the groups, attempts to make a move on Mira.

Romance is smiling the whole time.

He doesn’t take the person seriously.

“Oh, you like her? Cuteeeeee. Same.”

Would hug Mira from behind mid-conversation (knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to attack him for the PDA in front of the innocent (and flirty) bystander), his chin resting on her shoulder as he more or less stares at her in awe.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” he’d say, looking smugly into the flirter’s eyes.

He, like Abby, is so confident in his position as Mira’s boyfriend that he has no need to be jealous.

And to be honest even if he did feel jealous, he used to be a powerful demon. Hiding a dead body wouldn’t be that difficult for him.

He wouldn’t mind outflirting the flirter to their face.

He would also let Mira do most of the rejecting.

He lowkey finds it attractive when she goes all “Sorry but I’m already in a relationship”

His head is filled with hearts and flowers and all he can think of is  ‘she loooooooves me~~’

But, If Mira gets visibly annoyed or uncomfy (and that would take a lot to happen), his smile turns sharp.

“You can leave now,” he’d say, eyes narrowed as he more or less forces the person away with his sharp gaze.

His tone is so obviously threatening.

Later, he’d make Mira and Abby laugh about it.

“You know I’m prettier than them, right?” he’d tell the two while laying across their legs on the couch.

Mira would roll her eyes but she wouldn’t disagree.

Abby would give romance a proud high five (or whatever it is bro’s do…)

Definitely throws in some extra flirty lines that night, just to remind her of the whole encounter.

Mystery when someone flirts with Zoey

The only Saja boy that would get seriously jealous.

This could go two ways though. 

He could either get super protective over Zoey to the point where it’s lowkey animalistic…

I’m basically saying he might start barking at whoever is flirting with her 😭

Based off of his behaviour in the movie i’d feel like he’d try to freak the person out so they’d leave 💀

The more likely option would be for him to just freeze.

Doesn’t speak. Just stares.

You can feel how uncomfortable he is with the entire situation.

Lets say the two are hanging out after practice hours and they encounter a group of fans, one of them thinking they actually have a chance with Zoey.

I feel like Zoey would be completely oblivious to the fans' intentions cause she just wants to believe in the good of everyone. 

Remember how she said the Saja boys were magicians even though it was really obvious they were demons 💀

Mystery, after attending to his own fans, just stands behind Zoey and watches,

He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him but it obviously does.

He can’t stand still.

Crosses his arms. 

Shifts weight between his legs. 

Backs up a step only to come back up.

He won’t interrupt the conversation. Honestly he might just leave.

But Zoey usually finds him sulking in a corner later.

“You okay?”

“Why must you be so nice to people?” he be all frowny while flopping around on the floor”

“Thank you? she let out a small laugh before sitting by him and moving the hair out of his face.

“I don’t want you to be nice to everyone…” he’d be all flustered but still very upset. “Just me.” a small pause, “and huntr/x and the saja boys i guess…”

She ends up comforting him because his jealousy would manifest as confusion and anxiety.

Poor boy fears she’d still leave him because he used to be a demon.

Starts to lowkey improve his posture and fix his hair next time they're out. 

He thinks no one notices but zoey does.

Jinu when someone flirts with Rumi

The pouty jealous one.

Not in a sad and anxious way like Mystery, but more in a ‘stop giving them attention Rumi~’ way.

Doesn’t react at first. He’s quiet, watching and assessing how serious the situation is. 

If Rumi laughs at something the flirter says?

His jaw drops in disbelief. Like her audacity??

“Wow. Guess I’m just a background character now.” • Said this to no one but himself. He said it outloud.

Will walk up after the conversation ends like:

“So… did you have fun Rumi?”

“Who was that?”

“Do you like them more than me? Be honest. I can take it.” (He cannot.)

Rumi: “You’re literally the only person I want Jinu.”

Jinu, perking up instantly: “Okay :)”

Still clings to her for the rest of the day, just in case.

He could get super protective though.

They’d probably be out on one of their dates that apparently aren’t dates…

They’d stop for food at a restaurant and the guy taking the order is just so annoying and persistent about getting Rumi’s number.

At this his eyes sharpen, jaw clenches slightly. You’d only notice if you knew him.

He does not interrupt. He’d look to see how Rumi handles it.

If she looks uncomfortable?

He steps in immediately with that low, casual tone he has “You okay Rumi?”

He’s not even trying to be threatening. He’s kinda just making in known that he is the boyfriend.

Even Rumi is flustered with just how protective he’s being.

When they’re walking back to the company, his hand hasn’t left her waist at all.

“Some people just don’t seem to know when to stop talking” he’d mumbled under his breath.

Mira when someone flirts with Abby or Romance

If they flirt with Abby:

Someone’s trying to compliment his abs and muscles.

The person is being all sweet n touchy like

“Omg! You must work out really hard~~”

And he can see Mira seething in the background so he tries to make the interaction seem as friendly as possible. 

She's watching it all happen with the flattest expression known to mankind.

Abby's being polite. He’s all smiles like “ooh thankyou :D” 

Mira’s patience is running out FAST.

She's standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows twitching.

In her brain she’s absolutely berating the person. 

“Can’t they tell that he’s taken??’

However she’d also be in denial about her jealousy. 

“Like what do you mean jealousy? I was just worried that the person was wasting their time on you muscles brain” is what she would say if ever confronted about the situation.

She’d eventually calm down until Abby chuckles at one of their jokes.

Her head slowly turns and her eyes are comically wide.

She lowkey looks deranged…

“You think they’re funny?” • “No– I was just–” • “Mm.” 

She’d kick him out of her car and leave him stranded on the street.

Eventually walks up casually, a hand on Abby’s bicep.

“Sorry, this one’s taken. But nice try.” Smile = threat.

Later in private?

She’s berating him.

“You’re such an attention seeker”

“I didn’t do anything..” he’s flabergasted

If they flirt with Romance:

Mira doesn’t even pretend to be calm.

The issue here is Romance is the type to flirt back. Not cause he’s a man whore or anything but he just loves when Mira acts all possessive about him 💀

She’s standing behind Romance while the flirter is mid-sentence, her arms crossed, lips pursed.

She’s giving them the look she normally uses to scare off demons before killing them off.

Romance obviously finds it hilarious and adorable.

Mira does not.

She doesn’t speak, just raises one brow at the poor soul.

This person must be blind or something cause they just keep talking???

Oh yea- Where did they meet the flirter?

The two went shopping for books. Yes. Books.

Romance thinks the best way to learn about human culture would be by reading as many novels as he can get his hands on. 

This leads to the shop owner flirting with him as they try to recommend good books to read.

The flirter slides him a very steamy looking book and winks at him “This looks like something you’d enjoy if you know what I mean”

When the person keeps talking, Romance is smirking. • “You’re gonna die~” he whispers, all happy.

Mira steps up between them. • “If you value your ability to walk and want to keep your store, I suggest you shut up.”

Romance: 🥰

He won’t shut up about it later.

“I’ve never felt more loved.”

“You threatened violence for me.”

“Tell me again how you’d break their legs.”

He’s just a girl.

Actually he’d probably love saying “I’m just a girl” 💀

Zoey when someone flirts with Mystery

She’s oblivious at first.

Like I said up above, she’ll probably think the person is just being friendly.

“Oh my god, Mystery, they said you have pretty hair! Isn’t that sweet?” • Mystery is trying not to freak out

Eventually, she catches on.

She’ll see the flirter get all up in his space. They’d try to touch his hair, or interlink their arms, literally anything to have physical contact.

Mystery is physically recoiling.

“Wait a damn minute…”

Her whole vibe changes.

Remember how she “ended” mystery in the movie?

“You’re just my type 🤩 Oh well” stabs

Yea that switch up is how she’d treat the flirter.

Her voice is still sweet, but it’s weaponized sweetness.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

One sentence. That’s it.

The air gets colder. The fan who was flirting? Gone.

She then turns to Mystery like nothing happened.

“You okay?”

“You scared them away.”

“Good.” sips her drink

She becomes extra clingy later too. Not because she’s insecure.

She’d do it to reassure him that she wouldn’t be going anywhere regardless of how many people try to flirt with him.

Random compliments and forehead kisses.

“Your hair is pretty by the way.” she’d say this while tying it up into a bun to admire his face. “I’m the only one allowed to touch it though”

“Of course Zoey,” his voice is practically a whisper as she clings onto him.

Rumi with someone flirts with Jinu

They went to the movies together. A new lego movie came out and the last one Jinu saw was years ago so he begged Rumi to take him to see the new one.

She goes to collect popcorn, leaving Jinu to take his seat, and when she returns, someone is in HER chair. Flirting with HER boyfriend.

She’d try really hard not to react.

She wants to be chill. Really, she does.

But the moment someone says “Hey, what’s your name?” and reaches out to his arm?

She’s considering summoning her weapon and wiping their head off clean.

My girl is staring daggers.

Probably the most over protective in the group (could rival Mira)

After all, the guy died for her. Why would anyone even think they could try to flirt with him???

Stares daggers.

Jinu is too polite (and oblivious. The guy used to be a 400 year old demon. Anything he used to know about flirting is now irrelevant)

He smiles. Maybe even giggles just because of how nervous he is. • That is what breaks her.

She walks over calmly, “Sorry. That seat’s taken.”

If the flirter protests? “By who?

“By me. Go find another one.” Rumi’s losing her patience and the movie is about to start.

“I actually like it here,” they’d lean a tad bit closer to Jinu to spite Rumi.

Let’s not forget that Rumi is half demon though!! “That wasn’t a suggestion.” Her voice gets a bit more dangerous and unstable.

Once they’re alone again, she teases him about it.

“Did you like the attention?”

“Nooo– Rumi, no, I was scared. ☹️”

“You were giggling.”

“IT WAS A PANIC GIGGLE!!”

The next time they go out, she’s in his hoodie. Hair down (out of the braid 😋). Holding his hand. The message is clear: • Don’t even look in his direction.

[midnghtprentiss]

Domesticity - Jack Abbot

pairing: jack abbot x doc!f!reader

summary: four times absolute love the domesticity of living with four women.

a/n: i was watching mamma mia and this idea came through my mind and now i’m crying cause it’s cute. in this scenario, Anna is 17, June and Emma are 13.

anywayyyy, sorry for any misspellings, english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! any comments are welcome!

ONE

The mundane and extraordinary aspects of living with women were the reasons Jack became a happier person, more inspired, and willing to live his life in a more fulfilling way. 

Jack was accustomed to the noise of your house. There was always a song playing, singing, and gossiping. For him, the comfort of knowing that the darkness that once surrounded him was gone, replaced by the light of the people he loved the most, mattered more than he could explain. 

He expected to come to a quiet house when he came through the door in the morning, but instead, he found you doing breakfast and the girls laughing while Emma rehearsed her school presentation for them before class. Jack felt the chaos and stress of his shift melt away while silently watching the scene unfold. 

“I can’t do that if you keep laughing at me.” He chuckled, seeing your face to the two girls.

“We aren’t laughing at her, it’s cute she’s nervous around us, but if you put her on the stage with a microphone, she’s a different person.” June tried to make a point and you shot her the same look you give to Jack when pisses you off. “Our own Hannah Montana.”

Even tho Emma and June weren’t Jack’s biological daughters, he knew them even before they were born when you were pregnant in your resident years, but he loved the girls like his own. They loved him for all the right reasons, and he never treated them with any less love. June could always count on Jack to help her practice for games, cheering and acting like a real father, and Emma knew Jack would listen to her endless musical rehearses in the car, being present at every event she would sing. 

Anna felt the same about you. When you met Jack, she was four years old and had lost her mother recently. You never tried to steal her mother's place; everybody was aware of it. But you were there for every little thing. School plays, birthday parties, and teenage years. Fulfilling a part of her life that was missing, always remembering her late mother with honour and respect. 

When you and Jack (finally) started dating, after a few years of yearning, she was so happy that it finally happened. It wasn’t a surprise you liked each other; the more you denied it, the more complicated the situation became until you both admitted it. 

“If you’re worried about impressing us, you shouldn’t.” You caressed her hair, “Jack still gets nervous when he’s working next to me. That’s why I’m the smarter one in this marriage.” 

“Ouch.” Jack finally entered the kitchen, pretending to be upset by your words. 

“You called the patient by the wrong name four times two nights ago just because I was in the same room, Jack.” You shook your head, pouring yourself more coffee. 

“That’s peak romance, mom.” Anna giggled, nodding her head. 

Anna started calling you mom a few years after your marriage to Jack. She was so afraid of you rejecting her that when it came out first, she froze, and you cried a lot. It means so much to you that she trusted you enough to call you mom, a place you needed to earn, and you do. 

“In my defense, you were looking hot, covered in blood, and bossing me around.” You rolled your eyes, and he laughed, kissing your cheek. “My brain doesn't work around hotties, by hotties I mean you.”

“It’s seven in the morning, c'mon guys!” June pretended to be disgusted, covering her eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be going to school right now?”

“We wanted to wait for you to let you know that we may have a girls' night friday.” Jack poured himself some coffee and leaned over the counter next to you. 

“Friday? The same day your mom and I have a shift together?” He raised his eyebrows, and the three girls nodded at the same time. 

“Musical night. All the girls had already agreed.” Anna blew you two a kiss before they all left the room together. “And! We’ll clean before you even come back.”

“Do we have a choice?” He asked you, speechless about the conversation he just had. “A lot of girls will be sleeping in our living room while we work. I don’t think we need to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t think so.” You touched his shoulder, laughing quietly. “Anna’s going to college soon, we should have her do that, make some memories with her sisters. It's going to be good for them.” 

“You’re right, we just pray that they don’t burn the house.” 

Friday night, you two ended up in your living room full of girls dressed up as musical icons, a microphone, snacks and a lot of glitter. You held his hand and left the house faster than a bullet while their friends started to sing to you and your husband.

TWO

Jack was an insomniac. You knew it, the girls knew it, even the cat was accustomed to it. 

Maybe it was because of his work or ‘cause his mind never fully stops. 

He enjoyed the quietness, the peace of the home when no one was awake. He spent hours lying in bed just watching you sleep peacefully, how messy your hair was, legs tangled around him, the warmth of your body cuddled in him. He loved the idea that you needed him around even in your sleep.

When he didn’t want to stay in bed, he quietly left the bedroom and stayed in the living room. Sometimes he would stay at the back porch, reading or just watching the quiet. His only companion was your cat, who despises him when you’re around, sleeping soundly between his tights. But sometimes he encountered Emma, quietly making space for herself at the armchair facing the stars outside. 

“Bad dream?” Jack put on his readers, holding the book you bought him the other day. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She sighed, looking at him. 

He saw you in Emma. The messy hair, puffy eyes, the traces of her pretty face, and cranky voice, exactly like yours when you don’t sleep nicely. She was holding a book too, looking a little ashamed for being caught awake this late at night. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He made his way to the couch next to her, leaning the crutches on the floor. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

“If you’re awake at three in the morning, it’s a big deal.” 

Jack loved being a girl's dad. He never fully understood how he was going to raise a girl, be a man and at the same time, protect her from the madness of the world. His heart aches every time he thinks about not being the person his kids needed him to be at the right moment.

Thankfully, he always was. He’s the one all of his girls call when something is not right. He’s the person you call when the world seems to disappear from your feet. 

“There’s this guy, he’s friends with June.” Jack raised his eyebrows, watching the girl. “We’ve been talking for a while now, and I told him I liked him and ran away.” 

“Oh, Em.” He reached out for her hand. “You think he likes you back?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted, looking embarrassed. “He called me cute the other day, gave me his jacket when I needed to run to Anna’s car in the rain, and he kept texting me to know if I’m alright. He sent me flowers the other day.”

“When I met your mother a few years ago, I used to get so nervous around her that I put her in triage for a few weeks to not be around her, just the sound of her voice was enough to make me dizzy.” He laughed at himself. “I realized I was in love with your mother when she went on a date with another guy, and I panicked at the idea of her being in love with somebody else.” 

“Really?” She asked. 

“Definitely. I did things I’m not proud of before telling her how I feel, and I’m glad for finally saying something ‘cause look where we are today.” 

“Thanks for that, I needed to hear this.” 

“If he won’t treat you right, you can tell me and I will proudly try to scare him.” Emma laughed, nodding her head. “Besides, your mom can be intimidating when she’s mad.” 

“You remember Disney World, right?” Jack chuckled, letting her hand go. 

“You should see her working doubles, that’s scary.” 

THREE

You were lying on top of Jack while the movie played in the background. Neither of you was paying attention, too invested in being close. His hands rested underneath your shirt, pulling you closer to him as your face was buried in his neck. 

The girls weren’t home, and after two glasses of wine, you couldn’t contain the excitement in your voice while you spoke. Jack found it funny how the idea of enjoying each other's company involved takeout, wine, and some movie you’ve lost interest the minute his hands were on you.

You got too excited about being alone with your husband after a few days of working nonstop, when the front door opened, revealing three girls laughing. Immediately, you sat down looking like teenagers who got caught in the worst possible moment. Jack was flustered, your hair was messy and your blouse was unbuttoned.  

“We had the most amazing night today!” June exclaimed, walking towards the other couch with her sister beside her. 

“Really sweetie? Where did you go?” You asked, leaning against Jack, holding his hand, and trying to look like a normal parent, like you weren’t on each other seconds ago. 

“We went to that Twilight drive-in we told you about and got some cookies in that new place next to the hospital,” Anna said, watching you with a funny face. She knew what you were up to. “How was your night?” Jack squeezed your hand slightly, noticing what his daughter was doing.

“We were watching a movie, had sushi for dinner and some wine. Nothing new.” You imagined you sounded cool, but in reality, you didn’t. 

“I can see that your night was funny by your hair.” Anna crossed her arms, looking away to laugh. 

“Disgusting, guys! Really?” Emma and June got up instantly. while Jack burst out laughing. 

“You weren’t even here, girls. Don’t be that dramatic.” 

“Dramatic? Dad, you have a hickey on your neck!” Anna screamed, making her sisters gasp. 

“I think I’m killing myself after this.” June pretended to pass out. 

“We never had the chance to do anything.” Jack had a smug smile on his lips, making you blush as he watched your face. “In this hour.” He whispered to you. 

“We thought you’d come home later.” You admitted, crossing your arms. 

“I need therapy after this.” Anna sat in the armchair, snickering at the situation she created. 

“The worst thing that can happen is another child.” 

“Jack!” You smacked his arm, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Slowly, the girls stopped teasing you two and got comfy around the couch, pulling some blankets over them and eventually falling asleep without the movie ending. Your family was chaotic, but Jack couldn’t imagine his life without this anymore. 

FOUR

The house was awfully quiet when Jack walked in. He looked at his watch, trying to understand why the a sudden silence. He found you and Emma in the kitchen baking some cookies, the ones you did only when something bad happened. You looked at him with a worried look, and he immediately felt something was off. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking at his daughter. 

“Emma and June are sick. They’ve been throwing up and with a fever since last night.” You speak, putting the cookies in the oven. “Heather came here with Dana to medicate them; they’re sleeping now.” 

“Why didn’t you bring them to the ER last night?” Jack’s voice was a little mad, and you couldn’t blame him. 

“Four traumas, Jack. They needed you, and I am a doctor too.” Emma looked at both of you, leaving the room. “I am pretty capable of making decisions about our kids' health.” 

“What if something bad happened when you’re not looking?” You pointed to the baby’s monitor next to you. 

“I’m always watching them, and I haven’t slept since the first symptom.” Jack tried to be reasonable about the situation. 

He hates it when the girls get sick and he isn’t around. He felt impotent and frustrated; he couldn’t help like a real father, feeling anxious and preoccupied. The last time that happened, he hadn’t been able to work until he went back home to be with his girls. 

“Dana and Heather came over? You should’ve called me.” He was pretty upset and his face was giving him away. 

“Jack, I tried to call you, and then I called Ellis and she told me you had four active traumas.” You knew he was annoyed when he just passed you in the kitchen, going straight to the girls’ room. 

To his surprise, he found Anna and June intertwined in bed, covered in the coziest blanket you've ever owned. The nightside had two cups of water and some painkillers that your friends brought earlier. He came closer to them, slowly feeling the heat of their foreheads, watching them relieved that they’re fine. 

He went back to the kitchen to find you having a cup of tea, eyes closed, and your back resting on the chair. You noticed him before he said a word. You were exhausted, and you had a migraine. Jack approached you slowly, touching your shoulder before sitting down next to you. 

“One of the traumas involved three girls. Sisters.” He states, making you look at him. “I almost froze, it reminded me so much of them, and when I got home, you told me they’re sick.” You reached out for his hand. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

“It’s fine, Jack.” He put his hand on yours. “Go take a shower and sleep a little.” 

“I’m good, honey. Go rest, I’m not tired at all.” He reassured you. “Emma is awake and we can watch a movie while the girls don’t wake up.” 

“You sure?” He nodded. “Alright.” Jack kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly before you walked away to your bedroom. 

Jack admired you for all the things you already know, but he loved how you were always true to your words. He knew you hadn’t slept, he knew you paced around the kitchen in silence the whole night to not disturb Emma, and he was pretty aware of how you held the girl's hair when they were in the bathroom. He wished he were more like you every day, strong and tough. 

You, on the other hand, wished you were more like him. He had no idea how many times you cried during the night, holding the girls, reassuring them, and trying not to break down more. You wanted to be cool like him, calm in the moments you couldn’t.  

When you woke up, your girls were nestled into you, safe and protected. They looked better, less pale, and by the smell of their hair, Jack must’ve helped them take a shower. You leave them in bed and go upstairs to find your husband making dinner quietly. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. How did you sleep?” He asked, looking at you with a bright smile. 

“I sleep well. How do the girls behave?” You sat down, watching him. 

“They woke up a few hours ago, I gave them more medicine, Emma helped them shower and they wanted to sleep with you, so I let them.” 

“They looked pretty cozy wrapped around each other.” You comment, resting your head on your hand. 

“We can let them sleep in our bedroom and watch something later.” 

“You just want an excuse to sleep on me, Abbot.” He laughed, looking offended. 

“It’s not my fault you’re comfortable sleeping.” Jack put the knife down, glancing at you, “Besides, the ring on your finger kinda allows me to do that.” 

“You’re trouble, Jack.” 

“And you love me too much.” 

[redrose10]

Something I wrote last night…

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and mental health struggles, depression

Word Count: 2,345

🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉

Some days Yoongi gets like this. It has been happening since his teenage years. He doesn’t know how or why. From the moment he gets up and out of bed to the moment he finally lays down in that same spot at the end of the night he feels it. Anxiety, worry, guilt, and a little bit of sadness. He over thinks everything. Wonders if he’s doing too much and too little all at the same time. There is a dark cloud that follows over him the entire day causing him hardships that only he sees.

He accidentally cut off a car on his way to work. He didn’t mean to. A split second of poor judgement. There was no accident. No harm. The other person probably forgot about it seconds later, but not Yoongi. He thought about it all day, worried that the other person, a complete stranger, was still angry with him over it.

When he texted Jimin asking if he wanted to meet up for lunch he replied with a simple ‘sure what time?’ Jimin always included emojis in his texts. Always. It was annoyingly cute. Yoongi spent the rest of the morning spiraling and wondering what he did to upset his friend. In reality Jimin was running late to an appointment and just wanted to make sure he responded before he forgot because he always gets excited when Yoongi invites him out to lunch.

During these dark times his words always fail him the most. He tried working on songs that he has had in progress for months, but he got nowhere. He tried to start a new one only to spend two hours staring at a blank computer screen resulting in him just beating himself up even more. On the worst of days he’ll stop by Namjoon’s studio and hand him a piece of paper with the code to enter his own studio written on it. He’ll tell Namjoon to take whatever equipment he wants out of it and sell the rest because it’s of no use to him any more. Namjoon will smile and nod and wait for Yoongi to exit the room before tearing up the piece of paper and tossing it in the trash next to him. He doesn’t even read the numbers out of respect for his friend. He knows Yoongi will be right back there tomorrow morning ready to give it another try.

On the way back home after a long day is when Yoongi will have a realization that will cause the biggest struggle of them all.

He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve to call you his wife or the love of his life.

He’s not good enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough. He’s not affectionate. He struggles greatly in these times of darkness and brings you down with him.

He’s not very romantic. Most of your dates consist of takeout and movies on the couch. He asked you to marry him on a Sunday morning while the two of you drank your coffee at the kitchen table. He didn’t even have a ring yet but you still said yes. You must have just felt pity for him.

He works hard for you. A nice house, nice cars, designer clothes, fancy vacations. He knows you could get all of that by yourself, but he wants to provide it for you. It makes him feel good, needed even. He’ll cook you an amazing dinner including dessert and will even wash every single dish afterwards, but will struggle to tell you how beautiful you look that same night.

He doesn’t know how to tell you how much he loves you. He’s tried. He can feel it in his chest so deeply it hurts, but for seem reason his brain struggles to let him say it to your face. Like his own security blanket, a way to protect his heart from getting broken once again.

So every night he waits until you’re asleep all snuggled and safe in his arms and then he’ll whisper it into your ear.

But what if that isn’t enough?

What if you want more than he can provide? What if you’re unhappy? What if you regret ever marrying him? What if you want a divorce? What if you’ve already found someone else? No one else will ever love you like he does, but someone else will be able to say they do.

Because at the end of the day he’s nothing special…he’s just Yoongi.

By the time he pulls into the parking garage he has tears spilling down his cheeks and his breathing is ragged. He parks in his assigned spot which is thankfully towards the back corner of the garage and lays the leather seat of his car back to try and calm down. He sets a timer and then uses his breathing techniques that he learned years ago to hopefully prevent his body from going into full panic mode.

After fifteen minutes the timer goes off and he starts to gather his things and heads up to your apartment.

His head is pounding and his chest aches. He knows he is moments away from crying again, but he enters your home anyways.

He knows you won’t judge him. You won’t question what’s wrong until he’s ready to talk and that only makes him feel even less worthy of having you in his life.

When Yoongi gets to the kitchen he sees an assortment of fruits and veggies spread out on the counter. It seemed like you had a good time at the local farmers market with your friend. He immediately eyes a very large basket of tangerines. A small smiles forms on his face for the first time that day.

Then he notices the watermelon sitting off to the side. It’s one of your favorites, but you have made it very clear how much you hate cutting them. The effort, the mess, the danger…he shudders at the memory of having to bandage your poor little pinkie finger after the knife slipped while you were trying to slice through the watermelon rind. Yoongi tells you all the time to just buy the precut ones from the grocery store but you refuse to spend the extra money and you also don’t want to use more plastic than necessary which he admires.

Yoongi moves around the kitchen with ease grabbing the cutting board and one of the bigger chefs knives. Silently he gets to working cutting through the watermelon making sure to get the pieces just to the size you like. He’s so focused on the task before him that he doesn’t hear you come into the kitchen and is startled when your arms wrap around his waist.

“When did you get home?”, you mumble into his back, “You should’ve came and got me.” The vibrations tickle slightly.

“Just a little bit ago.”, he smiles yet again, “I wanted to get this watermelon cut for you.”

You squeezed him a little tighter as a silent thank you. Yoongi feels his heart thud.

“Did you see the tangerines? They probably thought I was crazy buying so many of them, but I know they’re your favorite and these ones looked so ripe and juicy.”, you excitedly exclaimed already reaching for one to peel for him.

As Yoongi continues to cut away at the melon you sit on top of the counter and feed him pieces of the tangerine while he listens about your day.

Your favorite cafe has a limited time pineapple drink for the summer months, but you had already had your heart set on the hibiscus lemonade so you’ll have to try it another day. Yoongi makes a mental note to take you there for lunch tomorrow.

He finds himself genuinely laughing for the first time that day when you tell him about the bee that viciously chased after your friend causing her to run into a wall spilling her latte all over herself.

He gives you a questioning look when you tell him about the cute baby goats you saw at the farmers market. The two of you have had this conversation many times before because you refuse to accept that goats are not good pets for an apartment.

You grab a piece of the watermelon and pretend like you’re going to feed it to him just like you did with the tangerines only to pop it in your mouth at the last second instead.

“Oh we’re going to play that game huh?”, he questions playfully. Your giggles that follow sound better than any melody he’s ever written.

Then you grab another piece of the melon and this time you actually feed it to him. It’s juicy and sweet and it’s perfect just like you.

“Thank you for cutting up the watermelon. You know how much I loathe doing that.”, you say before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi grabs a piece of the melon and feeds it to you, “Any time jagiya.”, he whispers as he watches you happily enjoy the fruits of his labor.

“I’ll clean all this up. Go take a bath and get changed into something comfy.”, you say as you hop off of the counter, “I thought we could order some food tonight and start watching that new drama everyone’s talking about. Or…should I say I’ll watch the new drama while you watch the first ten minutes and then snore through the rest.”, you laugh.

Yoongi fakes offense, but deep down knows you’re 100% right so he ends up laughing with you before walking off to the bedroom.

On the bed you’ve already laid out his favorite sweats and tshirt. A new pair of fluffy lavender infused socks that you got for him at the farmers market today are next to them. In the bathroom you’ve already got his skin care put out on the counter and his favorite eucalyptus bubble bath is placed on the tub along with a brand new vanilla scented candle sitting next to it.

There’s also a new bottle of some fancy goat milk lotion you probably got at the farmers market today. A note taped to it reads, If we had our own pet goat I wouldn’t have to spend so much money on fancy lotions made by other people…Just saying.

The note makes him laugh and shake his head at the same time. He starts to get undressed until he’s hit with a wave of emotions so strong it makes him nauseated. He decides that he can’t take it any more so he goes to find you.

You’re still in the kitchen and when he calls your name you look at him with wide eyes and cheeks full of watermelon. He bites lip to keep from laughing.

He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the bathroom with him. The water is running. He adds a touch of the bubble bath and lights the candle.

Then he helps you out of your clothes before removing his own and gently guides you into the bath with him.

He takes a seat behind you ignoring the coldness of the porcelain on his back because he’s too focused on you sitting in front of him with your back firmly pressed against his chest.

Once the tub is filled up the two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he lovingly runs his fingers across your belly and thighs until you’re nearly asleep.

“Yoongi?”, you finally speak after a while. “Hmmm.”, he hums back.

“I love you.”

His heart races. Suddenly the room feels unbearably hot and is spinning. If it wasn’t for you being perched up against him he would’ve already left.

All of those bad thoughts from earlier return. Is he good enough to receive those words? What if you don’t mean that? You’re only saying it because that’s what a wife does. You deserve better than what he can provide?

His downward spiral is broken up by you continuing, “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s not easy for you. And you tell me you love me every day in your own little ways. I just wanted to make sure I told you that today.”

Your words repeat in his head like a mantra and he relaxes back against the tub with you against him.

Maybe you are right. He may not be able to tell you in words how much he loves you and how much you mean to him, but he tries to show you in everything that he does.

Slowly as the night goes on the dark cloud that has been hanging above his head starts to dissipate.

When the bath is over the two of you fill yourselves on pizza and ice cream.

You show him pictures of goats that are up for adoption. He rolls his eyes and laughs but internally he’s panicking because he can feel his resolve breaking and he doesn’t know how many more times hes going to be able to tell you no on the goat thing, especially when you’ve been learning techniques to make puppy dog eyes from Jungkook. Yoongi just knows he’ll end up being a goat dad by the end of the year.

He manages to stay awake for a whole episode and a half of the new drama proving you wrong. It was a major struggle though.

When he does wake up you’re silently asleep on his shoulder. As comfy as it is he knows that if you both sleep on the couch you’ll be sore tomorrow so he gathers you in his arms and brings you to the bed. Moments later he’s right there next to you.

You snuggle into his side like you always do.

Yoongi takes a moment to admire your sleeping form. No matter how hard he tries he can’t believe this is his reality.

He didn’t know a love like this was possible. Maybe that is why he struggles so hard to comprehend it.

And even though he knows that he isn’t perfect and he has his dark days, he knows that it’s okay to feel like that because while he might be just Yoongi…he is your Yoongi and you are his and that’s all he will ever need in this world.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Light's Chapter 464

Brief summary: The seeds have germinated. Everyone is worried about Cale. Molan talk gets delayed. Cale meets Mol.

==========

Everyone was worried about Cale's condition, but he reassured them that this would get better in time. Of course, everyone was still worried about him, including the kids and CH.

Raon: Human, can't you eat? Cale: ...*turns away from the apple pie? Raon: 😟 Ron: Young master, shall I prepare some lemon tea? Cale: Yes. Tea will be better. The average 10-year olds: *plotting how to get stronger so that they could beat up Cale's enemies who did that to him*

Cale turned down the apple pie a second time, shocking Raon. And when the kids gathered in a corner of the room, Cale was like, 'At least they're not crying'... No, Cale. They were too worried to even cry, okay? 😭

Cale: We're going to the city. CH: What?! Cale: This condition is not due to contamination. It will get better with time. Um, how do I explain this? It's a side effect of using too much power. CH: That can't be, that's impossible. How can you be fine when you've been contaminated by chaos. Cale: (Why are his eyes like that? It reminds me of when he vowed revenge when he first came to the Henituse territory after the Harris villagers died. Why is this gentle guy suddenly going back to that time?) Cale: Are you okay? CH: *frowns* Cale: (Why is he acting like that?) Cale: The contaminated area is not fine. It hurts. So I have to purify it. But most of the symptoms you're seeing now aren't related to contamination. It'll go away with time. CH: …

Cale... Can't you tell that CH is really worried about you? Why are you dense in situations like this?

Choi Han stared at Ron silently. Ron running with Cale on his back. Cale probably couldn't see Ron's face. But Choi Han was close by, so he could see clearly in the darkness. A face was filled with desperation and urgency.

CH recalling how worried Ron was when they were running away. 😭😭😭

“Young master, please rest for now.” Ron laid Cale back down on the bed with a kind smile on his face. “Hmm.” Ron smiled at Cale, who was snoring. “You've always been a troublemaker, both when you were young and now.” He laughed softly. “Of course, the current young master causes even more trouble, making this old servant worry.” “!” Cale's eyes widened. 'The current young master.' As soon as Ron said those words, Cale was speechless and felt frustrated. He was also surprised. 'As expected-' He knows? No, how much does this vicious old man know? “Hoho.” Ron smiled kindly, or rather, like an assassin. Cale unconsciously curled up inside the blanket. Ron couldn't help but smile as he looked at Cale's trembling pupils. “Get better first.” Since Beacrox hadn't returned yet, he went to get lemon tea himself and said, “Our young master really is a handful.” Cale cowered unnecessarily and watched Ron's expression. After all, he wasn't in a normal state to say anything right now.

Ron knows!!! The Molan talk... got delayed for the nth time because Cale needed to rest! 🥲

Last chapter, we found out that some demons had a seed in them that could germinate and spread chaos. Well, one appeared already in a city, so DK invited Cale over to that city and meet him at the same time.

So when Cale appeared to meet Mol first, he was in a wheelchair and roughly breathing. Anyone could tell that he wasn't in a good condition, so...

Cale: *suffering from indigestion* Mol: Are you... dying? Cale: What are you talking about?

Ending Remarks I never expected to see Cale in a wheelchair. Next chapter would be Cale's meeting with DK. But would Cale be alright given his condition?

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

previous part | masterlist | next part

Chapter VIII

They don’t stop him from visiting.

Maybe it’s pity. Maybe it’s because Haymitch told them not to interfere. Maybe it’s because no one knows what else to do with him.

But no one says anything when Finnick shows up. Every day, from the moment he wakes up, he’s there.

The Recovery Wing is quieter than any other place in District 13. Too clean. Sterile. The air smells like antiseptic, but it’s the kind of sterile silence that doesn’t offer any peace. It clings to the back of his throat like saltwater that won’t wash away.

And then, there you are.

Always in the same place. Curled up on the thin hospital bed, your body buried under oversized blankets and clothes. They dressed you in the standard gray uniform, the same as everyone else, but it doesn’t fit right—too big, too loose. The fabric hangs off you like it doesn’t belong, like it’s swallowing you whole.

You’re awake sometimes. But even when your eyes flicker open, it’s like you’re not really here. Like your mind is miles away, and your body just hasn’t caught up yet.

Sometimes you sit up by yourself. Sometimes you let the nurses help you. But Finnick knows. He can tell when you’re too weak, too distant to care. And every single time his shadow crosses the threshold, you flinch. Every time his voice brushes against the air, your whole body tenses, like you’re waiting for something. Like you’re bracing for pain.

It’s that reaction that eats away at him. That’s the part that’s almost unbearable.

He spends most mornings in the chair by the wall, just out of reach. Close enough to watch your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, but far enough that you won’t notice him too much. Sometimes, he wonders if you even know he’s there at all.

He watches the rhythm of your breathing like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.

In his lap, his hands work through knots. Tiny, shaky loops. His fingers ache, cramped from twisting the rope too tight, too fast. But it’s the only thing that helps him hold on to something.

Sometimes, he talks. Softly. So softly that he’s not even sure you can hear him.

He likes to believe you can. Even if he can’t see it in your eyes.

“Hey, Angel,” he whispers one afternoon, his voice barely rising above the silence in the room. “It’s morning again. The sun’s probably rising over Four right now, you know?”

His eyes drop to his hands, moving mechanically over the rope, watching it twist. “Mags would’ve made you tea by now. Annie would’ve shown up with one of those seashell bracelets she’s always making. You used to love those. You loved when she gave them to you. You wore them everywhere cause you said it was like having a piece of the ocean with you all the time. ”

He smiles softly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His throat tightens when he thinks of it. “You always said the mornings there smelled like salt and cold sand. Like the ocean was always just a breath away, even when we were indoors.”

Nothing.

His fingers tighten around the rope, pulling, twisting, knotting. He doesn’t even feel the burn in his muscles anymore.

“You hated it when I made fun of you for using too much sugar in your tea,” he adds, his voice so small, so fragile now, like it’s breaking with every word. But it’s the last thing he can remember—those mornings. That laughter. The warmth of it.

Still, there’s nothing.

The room stays as still as a tomb. The only sound is the faint, quiet echo of Finnick’s own voice in his ears, the only thing that feels real anymore.

The quiet is unbearable.

Every word he speaks seems to get lost in the air. It hangs there like smoke, slowly drifting away, just out of reach.

Finnick’s hands keep moving, the rope slipping through his fingers like time itself—too fast, too slow, a tangle of memories he can’t untie. He pulls tighter. Over, under, through, over, under, through. He does it until his fingers start to sting and the knots are so tight they almost seem to bite back.

He wants to speak more. He wants to remind you of everything. He wants to be the one to make it all come rushing back. But how do you remember someone when you don’t even remember yourself?

He glances at you again, his breath catching in his throat. There you are, lying there, eyes closed, but the softness in your face doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re sleeping, but Finnick knows better. You’re not resting. You’re trapped in a place he can’t reach.

And that’s what kills him most of all.

It isn’t just that you’ve forgotten him. It’s that you’re still in there somewhere, lost. Somewhere inside that broken mind, there’s a part of you trying to claw your way back to the world, to him.

But it’s so far gone, buried under layers of pain, and Finnick doesn’t know how to bring you back to him.

He tries again.

“Do you remember...?” His voice is quiet, hesitant. He can’t bring himself to finish the question, the one that’s been gnawing at him for days. Do you remember us?

His throat tightens as he swallows the words, choking on them before they leave his mouth. He doesn’t know why he asked. Of course, you don’t remember. How could you?

Instead, he says something else. Something safer. “I remember when we first met. We didn’t talk much. Just shared a look. You were too shy, and scared—obviously. But you warmed up pretty quick."

He smiles bitterly at the memory. He remembers the way you’d shyly glance at him, your eyes full of questions you didn’t want to ask. The way you’d laugh under your breath when he’d say something under his breath about Lyssandra.

“Do you remember when I taught you to tie knots for the first time?” Finnick’s voice breaks, but he doesn’t stop. “It was after your games, I knew that your brain was probably think of a million things at one time. I wanted to give you something to do with your hands so you could turn your mind off for a little bit.”

He looks at you again. This time, you’re not sleeping. Your eyes are open, unfocused, staring off into some distant space. There’s no recognition. Just that vacant look he knows too well.

His heart clenches, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe.

You flinch when he shifts in his chair, and he recoils in kind, like he’s the one who’s been struck. His heart aches in a way he didn’t know it could. It feels like all the air has been sucked from his chest.

For a few moments, there’s nothing but silence again.

Then, you speak.

It’s quiet. A whisper that barely cuts through the weight of the room.

“I’m sorry...” Your voice cracks, so faint he almost doesn’t hear it. “I don’t... I don’t remember.”

Finnick closes his eyes, but the tears still slip through. He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t know how to be.

“I know,” he whispers back, his voice thick with emotion. “I know you don’t.”

He doesn’t know how long he sits there after that. The room stretches on forever, stretching his pain with it, making everything feel endless.

Eventually, he stands. It feels like moving through mud, like he’s dragging his own body forward. Every step is harder than the last, each one heavier than before.

Before he leaves, he glances back at you one last time.

You’re still lying there. Your eyes have drifted closed again, but the stillness in the room makes Finnick feel like he’s suffocating.

And as he steps out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him, he finally lets the tears fall.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

The days blur together after that.

Finnick doesn’t know how many times he’s sat in that chair, or how many times he’s spoken to you. His words hang in the air like a forgotten song, like an echo fading before it’s even begun.

Every morning, he wakes up with a new sense of purpose, but by the time the day ends, it feels like he’s only ever going in circles. Around and around, through the same old routines, the same old words that lead to the same place: the chair by your bed, the silence, and the aching emptiness in his chest.

Some days are worse than others. Some days, the silence feels suffocating—like there’s a weight pressing against his chest, making it harder to breathe. Other days, there’s a flicker of hope, a sliver of light. The small moments where he swears he sees something in your eyes, some fragment of recognition, a spark that shouldn’t be there but is.

But every time he gets close, it vanishes. Just like everything else.

It’s the waiting that’s killing him. The waiting, and the feeling that he’s not allowed to be anything more than an observer in your life. He can’t reach you. He can’t save you. And every time he’s faced with that harsh reality, it feels like a part of him shatters all over again.

One afternoon, he finds himself standing by the window, staring out at the cold, gray wall. The weight of everything feels unbearable, like it’s pressing in from all sides, and Finnick knows that if he doesn’t find something to hold on to soon, he might just break.

His fingers drift toward the knot of rope in his pocket. It’s worn now, the edges fraying from all the hours he’s spent twisting it between his fingers, but it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. The only thing that keeps him tethered to the world when everything else seems so far out of reach.

He pulls it out and begins to work the rope, his hands moving quickly, expertly. The knots are familiar now, automatic, like breathing. Over, under, through, over, under, through.

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

But even as his fingers work the rope, his mind drifts back to you. To the way you looked at him when he spoke, the way you flinched, like he was a stranger.

The memory claws at him.

Finnick exhales slowly, the air leaving his lungs in a broken, jagged breath. The tears are close now, but he swallows them back. He won’t let himself cry. Not yet. Not when he hasn’t even begun to figure out how to fix this.

He turns away from the window, eyes lingering on the door to your room. There’s a pull, an ache in his chest, and for a second, he’s sure he’s going to walk right back to you, sit in that chair again, and say the same words he always says. The same words that don’t reach you.

But then, he hears a voice in the hallway. A familiar voice.

“Finnick.”

He stiffens, his heart racing for a moment, before he recognizes it.

He turns, watching as Haymitch approaches, his expression unreadable. There’s a silence between them, thick and heavy, as if neither of them quite knows where to begin.

“You’ve been at it for days,” Haymitch says, his tone sharp but not unkind. “I’m not going to tell you what you’re doing is wrong, but it isn’t helping her either.”

Finnick opens his mouth to argue, but the words get caught in his throat. The truth stings too much.

“I’m not giving up on her,” he finally says, his voice hoarse.

Haymitch eyes him carefully, studying him. “I never thought you would.”

For a long moment, Finnick doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, the rope still clenched in his hands, his fingers stiff and aching from all the twisting and pulling. The words he wants to say don’t come. Not now, not yet.

“I just...I don’t know what to do,” Finnick mutters, his voice quiet, almost lost in the air between them. “Every time I think I might get through to her, it’s like...she’s still so far away.”

Haymitch nods slowly, his face softening just a little. “You’ve got to let her find her way back to you. And maybe it won’t be the way you want. But you can’t force it, Finnick. Not when she’s so broken. Not when everything is so...fragile.”

Finnick looks down at the knot in his hands, the tension in his chest growing tighter with every word.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know. But I’m afraid...that if I don’t keep trying, she won’t ever remember me. That she’ll forget what we had.”

Haymitch doesn’t say anything for a long time, and when he finally does, it’s just one quiet sentence.

“She’s not the only one who’s lost something.”

Finnick’s chest tightens at that. He looks at Haymitch, seeing something deeper in his eyes. Something that resonates with him in a way that nothing else has.

Haymitch’s words settle heavily around him, a reminder of everything Finnick has lost in the chaos of the war, of the Games, of the Capitol. Of the person he’s been before. Before the weight of his memories started to slip away, too.

Before he started losing parts of himself.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

Finnick doesn’t go back to his room that night.

Instead, he finds himself pacing the hallways, the silence of 13 pressing down on him like a weight he can’t shake off. His mind is a storm of conflicting thoughts, a thousand questions he can’t answer. What if she never remembers? What if all he’s doing is making things worse?

Everywhere he goes, he’s haunted by the echo of his own voice. By the quiet gap between the words he speaks to you and the silence you give back. It feels like a loss too big to understand, like a void that swallows him whole every time he thinks about it.

The walls seem to close in as he walks, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not yet.

He’s at the end of the hall when he hears it—soft footsteps behind him.

This time he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Finnick,” Haymitch says again, his voice low, the kind of voice that speaks without words. The kind that understands what’s happening without needing to say it.

Finnick doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes trained on the floor ahead.

“I know you’re struggling,” Haymitch continues, his voice gruff but not without care. “But there’s a line, you know? You’re going to drive yourself mad if you don’t start thinking about something else.”

Finnick stops, but only for a moment, his body stiff with the weight of Haymitch’s words. He presses his forehead against the cold wall, trying to steady himself.

“What do you want me to do, Haymitch?” His voice cracks, rough with the tension he can’t shake. “She’s in there, and she doesn’t even remember me. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I... how do I make her see me again?”

“You don’t.” Haymitch’s voice cuts through the quiet, harsh and direct. “Not all at once. You don’t get to make it happen. You have to let her come to you when she’s ready. She’s not the only one who’s broken here. You’ve got to remember that.”

Finnick turns, finally meeting Haymitch’s eyes. The older man looks as tired as he feels, his face worn down by everything they’ve been through. But there’s something else there—something that gives Finnick pause.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Finnick whispers, his chest aching with the weight of all his unanswered questions. “I’m not stupid, Haymitch. I know what’s happening. But every time I see her... I know she’s in there. I just can’t reach her. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”

Haymitch steps closer, his face softening slightly. He places a hand on Finnick’s shoulder, giving him a rare moment of grounding.

“Then stop trying to be the one who saves her,” he says quietly. “You can’t fix everything. Not this time. Sometimes the only thing you can do is wait. Just... wait.”

Finnick swallows hard, his throat tight. For a long moment, he stands there, his hand gripping the rope in his pocket like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the present.

Finally, he nods.

“Alright,” he says softly. “I’ll wait.”

But as he steps away from Haymitch and walks back down the hall, a small part of him wonders how much longer he can keep this up. How much longer he can wait for a love that might never come back.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

The next morning, he’s back at your room, back in the same chair, watching you sleep—watching for any sign of movement, any hint that you might remember. He talks to you again, just like the day before, just like every day since they brought you back.

“Hey, Angel,” he whispers softly. “It’s me again. I know you probably don’t remember...but I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift a little in the bed, your eyes fluttering open. You blink at him, and for the briefest second, there’s something there. Something that flickers in your gaze, like a spark. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, and Finnick feels his heart sink again.

You’re not ready. Not yet.

He exhales a shaky breath and shifts in the chair, the knot of rope still in his hands. He runs his fingers over it absently, wishing it could anchor him to something solid, something real.

But it doesn’t.

“Do you remember...the beaches back home?” Finnick asks, voice barely above a whisper. “We would go all the time before...before everything happened. You loved the sound of the waves crashing. You said it felt like the world was breathing.”

Nothing.

“I still remember it,” he continues, his voice breaking on the words. “I still remember how your hair smelled like salt and the wind, how you smiled when I tried to teach you to fish.”

Your eyes don’t even flicker at the words. They stay blank. Vacant.

And for a moment, Finnick wonders if he’ll ever be enough. If he’ll ever be the one to bring you back from the dark.

But then—just as the silence settles back around them, thick and suffocating—he sees it.

Your hand shifts slightly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the blanket.

It’s so small, so faint, but it’s there.

For a second, Finnick dares to hope.

Maybe you’re not as far away as he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your way back to him.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

The days stretch on, but Finnick is still there. Still waiting. Still speaking to you.

It’s almost like a ritual now—the mornings, the chair by your bed, the endless string of memories he whispers into the quiet. He talks to you like you can hear him, like you can understand. Like everything will fall back into place if he just keeps reminding you.

But it never works.

Not yet.

He shifts in his chair again, his hands shaking slightly as he touches the rope in his lap. The knots are tight, small, perfect. Each one he ties feels like a silent plea. Every twist of the rope is an attempt to anchor himself to something—anything—besides the ache that is becoming unbearable.

“Do you remember,” he asks gently, his voice trembling, “the first time we ever went to the beach?”

You blink slowly, not responding. Your gaze drifts past him, unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the room. But Finnick doesn’t give up. He leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the chair like it’s the only thing holding him together. His eyes never leave you.

“We went down to the water... you were wearing that white dress you loved so much.” He swallows, trying to steady his voice. “You remember that, don’t you? The one with the flowers? The one you always said made you feel like you could breathe again?”

He watches your face, looking for any sign—anything—of recognition.

But there’s nothing.

He tries again, pushing the words out like they’re his last chance. “You said it reminded you of the sea. That you’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way the waves shimmered in the sun. You said it was like the ocean was speaking to you, telling you secrets no one else could hear.”

He pauses, the silence swallowing him whole. It’s unbearable, and his heart aches with the weight of it.

“You always said,” he continues softly, his voice cracking as he forces the words out, “that you could hear the ocean calling your name.”

For a moment, he swears he sees something shift in your eyes. A flicker. A small change, but it’s there, almost imperceptible. Finnick’s heart skips.

He leans in closer, his breath catching in his throat.

“Do you remember?” he whispers urgently. “Do you remember that day? Do you remember us?”

But then, just as quickly as it comes, the spark fades. Your expression goes blank again, like a veil has descended, and Finnick’s hope crashes down, heavy and cold.

He leans back in the chair, his chest tight with the weight of disappointment. The knot in his hands trembles with the same frustration. He’s trying so hard. Harder than he’s ever tried for anything in his life, and yet it’s never enough.

The silence is deafening, and he feels like he’s drowning in it.

And then—before he can say anything else, before he can beg you to remember—the world shifts around him.

The air in the room seems to change, like the walls are closing in on him. The chair under him feels like it’s pulling him downward, and for a moment, he swears he’s falling into the past.

His fingers slip from the rope, and suddenly—just as the room begins to fade away—the sound of waves fills his ears.

The world around him softens, and he’s not in the sterile, white Recovery Wing anymore.

He’s back on the beach.

***

The air smells like salt and the earth, the waves crashing gently against the shore in a rhythm Finnick knows all too well. The sound wraps around him like a blanket, the familiar scent of the sea filling his lungs, grounding him in a time that feels both distant and close, like a dream he doesn’t want to wake from.

He’s standing on the beach, the sand cool beneath his bare feet, and the sun is still low on the horizon—casting everything in a golden haze. It’s the perfect morning. Quiet. Peaceful. Just the sound of the waves and the distant calls of seagulls. No worries. No Capitol. No war. Just the two of them.

You’re there beside him, standing at the water’s edge, the hem of your white dress fluttering in the wind. Your hair is tangled by the breeze, but you don’t mind. You never do. You’re smiling, and it’s the kind of smile that fills him with a warmth he can’t explain. The kind of smile that makes him think, This is it. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

The sun catches the edge of your dress, the pale fabric dancing in the wind, and he can’t help but smile as he watches you. You’ve always had that way of moving, like the world was a little bit more beautiful when you were in it.

“You know,” you say, your voice light and teasing as you glance back at him, “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to stand here. The waves keep pulling at my feet.”

Finnick chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer to you, the sand soft beneath his feet. He can hear the laughter in your voice, the sound that always brings him a sense of peace.

“You’re always complaining about the waves,” he says, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “But you never stop coming back to them.”

You tilt your head, looking out at the ocean with a faraway look in your eyes, the salt of the air catching on your lips. “I think the ocean speaks to me,” you murmur softly, almost as if the waves are the ones you’re talking to and not him. “It tells me things. Secrets no one else can hear.”

Finnick looks at you, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in the sincerity in your expression. You’ve always been like that, so deeply connected to the world around you. He wonders if you even realize how beautiful you are when you’re lost in your thoughts.

“Secrets?” he asks, a grin tugging at his lips. “What kind of secrets?”

You turn to face him fully now, your eyes sparkling with something he can’t quite place. The wind tugs at the edges of your dress, and for a moment, you look like you’re floating on air.

“The kind that make me feel like I belong here,” you say, your voice quiet but certain. “Like I belong with the ocean. With the sky. Like I’m part of something bigger than just... me.”

Finnick’s breath catches in his chest. The weight of your words settles over him like a quiet understanding, something deeper than just a passing moment. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly everything feels clearer. Like this moment is the one that’s been waiting for him all along.

He steps closer to you, his hand brushing against yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The world feels still. The sea. The sky. The sand beneath your feet. All of it is just... you. Just the two of you, lost in this moment, caught between time and space, with nothing else to worry about.

“You know,” Finnick says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper against the wind, “I don’t think I’ll ever hear the ocean the same way again. Not without thinking of you.”

You smile at him, that same soft, knowing smile that always made him feel like you held all the answers. “You’ll always hear it, Finnick. Even when we’re not here, when we’re not together. The ocean will always call your name.”

And then, as if by instinct, you reach for him. Your hand slides into his, fingers curling together with ease, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The waves crash at your feet, the sound so familiar it feels like home. You close your eyes for a moment, and he can’t help but pull you just a little closer, the warmth of your body against his, the salt of the sea lingering in the air.

Everything feels perfect. Unbreakable. Just for a moment, you are everything to him. The ocean. The sky. His entire world.

And in that instant, he knows with all his heart that he will never let you go.

***

The sound of the waves faded slowly, and suddenly the air in the room grows heavy once more. Finnick blinks, his vision blurring for a moment as the beach begins to slip away, replaced by the sterile white walls of the Recovery Wing.

His heart pounds in his chest as he comes back to the present, his fingers still trembling from the memory that lingers so clearly in his mind.

But it’s gone. It’s only a memory now.

He opens his eyes, and there you are—still lying in the same spot. The same hospital bed. The same quiet room.

And yet, somehow, he feels like he’s closer to you than he was before.

The memory lingers in Finnick’s chest like a weight he can’t shake off. The taste of salt on his lips, the feeling of your hand in his, the sound of your voice—soft and sure. All of it clings to him like an anchor, grounding him even when everything else feels adrift.

But as the last echoes of the waves fade away, Finnick’s heart aches with the knowledge that it’s just a memory. A moment in time that he can never fully reclaim.

He blinks a few times, the stark, sterile white walls of the Recovery Wing pulling him back into the present. The noise of the machines and the soft hum of the air vents return, and with them comes the crushing weight of everything he’s lost.

His fingers curl into fists around the rope in his lap, the knots still tight and perfect, but now they feel like shackles, tying him to the pain of the present.

You’re still there. Still lying in that bed, so close and yet so far away. His heart clenches, and for a moment, he wonders if the memory will ever be enough to bring you back to him.

He stands, his legs shaky as he moves towards your bed. His heart beats faster, thumping painfully against his ribs as he watches you, as he gets closer.

Your eyes are closed, but there’s a soft rise and fall to your chest. The air feels thick, heavy with the silence between you two. Finnick swallows hard, his throat tight with the words he can’t seem to say, the things he’s been holding onto for so long. He takes a shaky breath, forcing his hands to stay steady.

“I miss you,” he whispers softly, barely more than a breath. The words come unbidden, spilling out before he can stop them. “I miss you so much. I miss the way you looked at me, the way you smiled. I miss hearing you laugh.”

His fingers brush the edge of your blanket, but he doesn’t dare touch you. Not yet. Not until he knows if you’ll flinch away from him again.

“Please... I just need you to remember,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as the words catch in his throat. “I need you to come back. I can’t do this without you.”

The silence in the room feels suffocating, like it’s pressing in from all sides. He takes another step closer, but before he can say anything else, he hears it.

A soft sound. A faint shift from the bed.

His breath catches in his throat.

You stir, your eyelids fluttering, and for a moment, Finnick dares to hope.

And then, your eyes slowly open.

There’s a pause—just a beat—but it feels like eternity.

You blink up at him, and Finnick’s heart skips, his pulse racing as he watches you. For a second, just a second, he sees it. A flicker of recognition in your gaze. Something familiar, something so small, but so important.

He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t dare move, his whole world narrowing down to the look in your eyes.

You blink again, your brow furrowing as you take him in.

And then, softly, so softly, you whisper, “You’re still here.”

The world holds its breath.

The words aren’t enough to bring everything back. They aren’t the words he’s been waiting for, the ones that will bring you back to him completely. But they’re something. They’re a sign.

Finnick’s heart cracks open, but there’s something else, too—something that feels like hope. He leans forward, holding onto that thread with everything he has, because you’re still here. You remember him. You remember something.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice steadier now, stronger. “I’m right here. I'll always be right here.”

And this time, he doesn’t wait for you to respond. He just stays, watching you, holding onto that spark.

Finnick doesn’t leave right away.

He stays, even when the silence grows thick between you both. His heart still beats faster, the pulse in his ears louder than the quiet hum of the room. You’re still here. You spoke. You remembered something. Even if it wasn’t enough, it’s more than he had a few minutes ago.

But it isn’t enough.

Not yet.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. His legs ache from the stillness, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare. The small, fragile thread of hope that you’re still in there, somewhere, is enough to keep him tethered to the moment.

“Do you remember when we used to sit on the beach?” he says after a long while, his voice low, soft. It’s almost like he’s trying to speak to himself more than you, but he says it anyway. “You used to say the ocean called your name. You’d stand there with your feet in the water, your hands stretched out like you could catch the wind itself.”

He doesn’t know if you’re listening. He doesn’t know if you even care to hear the words. But he says them anyway, because they’re all he has.

“I still remember it,” he murmurs. “I remember the way the wind felt, the way the sun warmed your skin, the way you smiled when I asked you what the ocean was saying. I remember everything. I don’t care if you can’t yet. I’ll hold onto it for both of us.”

There’s a flicker in your eyes again. Maybe it’s just his wishful thinking, or maybe it’s the fading edge of some distant memory. But Finnick latches onto it, the small glimmer of hope growing brighter. It’s enough to make his heart ache and swell at the same time.

He leans forward, his hand reaching for the edge of your blanket, hovering there, but not touching. He doesn’t want to push you again. He’s learned that much.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

His fingers curl into the fabric, and for a moment, his mind drifts back to that day on the beach. The warmth of the sun, the sound of the waves. You, standing there like you could command the world with a single step.

It’s a memory he’ll never let go of. And as he watches you, as he waits for you to say something—anything—he realizes just how deep his feelings go. How deeply he’s willing to wait.

For you. For the person you used to be. For the person you’ll become again.

The silence stretches on, but it’s different now. It doesn’t feel suffocating. Not anymore. It’s a silence filled with possibility, with a fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—you’ll find your way back to him.

Finnick leans back in the chair, exhausted, but for the first time since he found you, he feels like he can breathe again. Even if it’s just a little bit.

And as he watches you, still so far away, he knows this is only the beginning. This is just the first step in what’s going to be a long, difficult road.

But he’ll walk it. He’ll walk it for you. And he won’t give up.

Not now. Not ever.

A/N: okay it's out everyone pls come back.

Taglist: @jacaeryslover @sundawn1990 @redama @noodleisodd @amara-mars @lovemyself-m-k @goosy-goose @potao-o @womenkisser05 @arsonistlizard @iguanagwen @lover-rep-fanfic@tatumrileyslover  @kimarii-00 @shuri-my-love @saleyeniu @succulent-ruler6 @aphxdea @humongousrunawaytiger @herbal-tea-and-manga @1i1winter @echoingrainydays @technicallyspookymoon @smthabsolutelyunhinged @yeah-idk-either @moon-zoons @shutendoji22 @thatoneamericanblonde @syd649 @curryexpress @harrypotterlovers-things @wonubby @212-apricity @anyaslittlepeanut @momoriii-i @milfslover2 @pluto-plutonium @xmochiloverx @wowlani @eyantice @suneaterscape @hanjelia @winx333-blog @lisaoligy

if you'd like to be included in this taglist lmk in the replies!

[raya-hunter01]

Crawlin'

Jey Uso One-shot

Jey Uso x OC (Lana)

Warning: Smut, fingering, Oral, chair sex and fluff.

Words: 3,345

Jey Uso’s girlfriend, Lana, is at his side as WWE cameras follow him for the week as he gets ready to challenge for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship at WrestleMania. Lana, overwhelmed by the cameras and tries to sneak out while Jey is filming, but he has plans for her after seeing her outfit.

Fontainebleau Hotel, Las Vegas

Jey's Suite

"The wrestling ring is a cute touch," Lana said, walking past Jey as his eyes lingered on her momentarily before he walked over to put down his key and looked at the wrestling ring closely.

“Oh, damn it’s a cake,” Jey whispered before taking a bite out of one chocolate-covered strawberries as Lana looked around the extravagant suite.

“Jey, this is too much, you sure we're in the right place?” Lana whispered off-camera, exploring the suite WWE had gotten Jey for his week's stay in Vegas.

Jey turned to the cameraman, Jerry, who had been shadowing him since Monday. "I really appreciate this, it’s fire," he said with a wide smile, his eyes gleaming in disbelief.

They had been filming Jey's WrestleMania diary these last few days, capturing every moment of his journey to the biggest night in professional wrestling, WrestleMania.

Jey continued to showcase their suite, his nervousness and excitement warming Lana's heart as she shot him a final glance before retreating into the bedroom to take a breather. This was her man's moment, so she was trying her hardest to get over her camera shyness.

This weekend was important to Jey, and he made it clear he wanted her with him in every sense of the word, so that was what she was going to do.

Jerry was nice after Jey told him about her uneasiness about being on camera, and he implemented breaks for her and even shot around her some. Leaving them to their mini diary. Lana went to freshen up and slipped into her new sundress. She was going to meet up with Trin for a late lunch to get a break from the camera.

She let her hair down and checked herself over in the mirror. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and she knew it would drive Jey crazy. She wanted to give him something to think about and rile him up a little. 

“I’m just in the moment,” Jey said as Lana made her presence felt, coming back into the living room area, waving at him, pointing towards the door to indicate she was about to leave.

Jey froze, his eyes wide as saucers. He had seen Lana in a hundred different outfits, but something about this one just hit differently. He began stumbling over his words, the blush creeping up his cheeks as he rubbed his hand up his arm. “It’s about being just present most of the time, damn,” he paused entranced momentarily by Lana before continuing. “'Cause all this can go away next week or whatever.”

Jey’s eyes shifted again to Lana and back to the camera several times. The camera crew didn't miss a beat, turning the camera towards Lana briefly before going back to Jey.  In a way, letting the world know what had him so crossed up as he talked to them.

“I’mma just enjoy the ride.”

 As Jerry yelled, “Cut.” Jey smiled, “Thanks, Uce, cause I know you see my lady ova there lookin’ good. We need some alone time…Bad.”

“Jey quit it,” Lana laughed as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Just being honest, La.”

 Jerry gave Jey a knowing look, packed up his equipment, and headed towards the door. “Give us an hour,” Jey said as he nodded, shutting the door behind him.

 The room felt suddenly more intimate as Jey walked over to Lana, wrapping his arms around her waist, preventing her from leaving. “I gotta go, baby,” Lana moaned as he kissed her.

His lips pressed against hers with a passion that could have set the Sunset Strip on fire. When they parted, Lana was breathless, her eyes sparkling with unbridled passion.

"Where you think you're going, dressed like this?" Jey teased, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "You tryin’ to have all of Vegas at your feet, huh?”

"I’m just having a late Lunch with Trin," she replied, her voice low and playful. “Before the weekend goes bananas, you know how it is. Plus, I know the jeweler is coming to show you some pieces, and I didn't want to get in the way."

Jey nodded, his smile softening. "You ain't neva in the way, baby. I told him to bring a couple of pieces for you too, so you could have stayed." He wanted her to know that she didn't have to leave, but he also knew how important it was for her to have her own space.

He was happy she had Trin to hang out with before her own schedule got hectic. She was producing the triple-threat match between Rhea, Bianca, and Iyo for night two.

"Well, pick me out something, I trust you. I don't want to be late," she said, putting the spare key in her purse.

“One more for the road,” Jey whispered, pulling her back for one more kiss. This time, deeper and more intense. Lana moaned, her body melting against him.

When they parted, she took a step back, her breath ragged. "I'll be back soon," she murmured, her hand lingering on his chest before she turned to leave.

"Why you runnin’ off?" he teased, his voice dropping to a gruff purr.

“I told you, I’m meeting, Trin,” she said by the front door, knowing she needed to leave before she lost her nerve, especially after that kiss.

"Aye, c’mere, Ma."

A shiver danced down her spine as she felt her cheeks heating up. He had that effect on her and could make her feel like the most desired woman in the world with just a few words. She took another step towards the door, her hips swaying slightly.

"Don’t play wit me, turn round," he murmured, as she turned to face him, his eyes darkened as he bit back a groan. "C’mere, La.”

Lana did as he asked, walking slowly towards him, her heart racing. “Yeah….Take yo' time... Let me see dem hips, swayin’ in dat dress." His muscular arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the pool table, admiring her.

 His eyes never leaving hers as Lana took her sweet time. "That's it," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Come to Daddy."

Lana felt a thrill at his words, a mix of power and vulnerability. She was in charge here, setting the pace, and as she reached him, she knew she had him exactly where she wanted him.

Jey grabbed her waist, spinning her so she was pressed against the cool surface of the pool table. "I got plans for you," he murmured, his breath hot against her neck. "But first, you need to show me what you wearin’ under dat dress."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip to stifle a giggle. He was always so direct, so unapologetic about his desires. It was one of the things she loved most about him. "Jey," she admonished playfully, "You're going to make me late."

He leaned in, his teeth grazing her ear. “Ion care, Trin can wait.”

"Well, Trin does be late sometimes," Lana said, knowing if push came to shove, there was no way she was going to deny him.

“Mmhm, she be late as hell, so you can stay a few more minutes wit me, Ma,” he whispered, as Lana glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But I should probably get going,” she moaned.

"You mine, right?" Jey asked, his grip on her hips tightening, ignoring her fake pleas that she had to leave. His dark eyes searched hers, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze.

She nodded as her heart fluttered in her chest, her thighs pulsing, knowing she was in for it. “Nah, say you mine.”

 "Yes, Daddy, I’m yours" she whispered, her voice barely audible. He leaned in, his teeth grazing her neck gently.

"Good girl, don't ever walk away from me again when I’m admirin’ you." he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. A shiver of desire shot through her body.

With a final nip, Jey stepped back, a smug smile playing on his lips. Lana's breath caught in her throat, and she nodded again, unable to form words.

 “Damn, you look so good La.” Jey leaned back in, unable to control himself, his nose brushing against hers as he whispered, “You look like you taste good too." Her eyes fluttered shut, a wave of heat washed over her whole body as his hands trailed up her thighs.

 "You gon' let Daddy have a taste?"

"Yes," Lana breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. It was all the invitation he needed. His lips found hers again, this time with a desperate intensity that left her knees weak.

Jey stepped back, his eyes scanning her body hungrily once again. "Take dat dress off, Ma," he demanded. His voice thick with desire, "Show Daddy what's his."

Her hands trembled slightly as she took a deep breath easing the straps of her dress down, revealing inch by inch of her curvy figure.

As the dress pooled around her ankles, Jey's gaze lingered on her, licking his lip. “Matter fact, take it all off,” he ordered as Lana reached behind her back and made quick work of her bra and then her underwear.  “Jey-”

“Damn, La. I Can’t believe you really all mine.”

Lana blushed, reaching up to cover her breasts and her stomach, but Jey wasn’t it.  “Don’t do dat.”

“Jey, you know-”

 "I know, but Ion want you to do dat. Don’t hide from me, Lana," he murmured, his voice a gentle command as she reluctantly moved her hands blushing.

 “La, I luv everything bout you, Ma… You perfect."

Lana smiled as Jey stepped closer, taking her hand in his. "Now, go sit back in dat chair." He nodded towards the recliner, the plush fabric beckoning. "And spread dem legs for Daddy."

With a shy smile, Lana did as he asked, feeling a thrill of power at his words. She sat in the enormous chair, her legs spread wide, and the cool air of the suite brushing against her heated skin.

"Happy WrestleMania weekend to me," Jey murmured, taking his shirt, sinking to his knees, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew what teasing her would do, and he loved it.

 He knew shivers ran down her spine every time he came out on TV teasing her, showing the world just how much of an eater he was.

“Daddy, wanna eat dat pretty pussy so bad, I’m on my knees, Mama. Can I have it?” Jey asked as Lana whimpered.

"Yes, show me how bad you want to eat it, Daddy… Mmm, crawl for it," Lana purred, her voice dripping with desire. Her shyness was long gone as she watched him through hooded eyes as Jey licked his lips in anticipation.

"You know Ion mind crawlin' for what's mine, Lana," he groaned, his voice dropping an octave as he admired her, still rooted to the same spot on his knees.

"Mmm, I know," she murmured, the sight of him on his knees, the power she had over him, was intoxicating.

 “I’m comin’ La and I’m finna eat yo’ ass up, you know dat right?”

 Lana bit her lip, watching as Jey planted his hands as he slid across the floor, his muscular body moving with a predatory grace.

“Yes, Daddy, come and get it…. Fuck, you look so good on your knees crawlin’ to me,” Lana moaned accidently closing her legs trembling watching him.

“Nuh-uh…… Open dem legs back up, this what you wanted, right? Me on my knees feenin’ for dat pussy, right?”

“Mmm, fuck yes,” she whispered entranced as grasped her legs, his voice low and possessive, “Den open’em.”

Lana moaned in anticipation, her legs parting like the Rea Sea, bending each knee over the arms of the recliner not needing to be told again.

“Mmhm, my good, good girl….Yea, open up for Daddy and let him eat his pretty pussy,” his tongue tracing patterns on her inner thighs that had her squirming.

“Please-”

 "Yea…..You want it bad don’t you? You want daddy all up in his pussy fuckin’ you wit his tongue till you cum?" he murmured against her skin, his breath and beard tickling.

 "Yes," she moaned, her voice strained.  “Tell me how you luv Daddy’s tongue,” Jey whispered with a smirk between her thighs, his gaze possessive as she trembled with need.

“I love it so much!” Lana cried out as Jey kissed and nipped at her inner thighs getting closer to his prize. “Mmm, please,” her pleas music to his ears. “Eat your pussy Daddy, please stop teasin’ me."

Jey didn’t hesitate, opening his mouth, flattening his tongue as he began his mission to make her lose her shit.  His tongue sliding against her clit continuously with such power Lana’s soul almost left her body.

“O- Oh…Oh, S-s-shit,” Lana gasped bucking against him as he chuckled pushing her back down.

 “Mmhm, told yo’ ass I was comin’..Ion even know why you play wit me..Sweet ass pussy,” Jey groaned pushing her legs further apart before engulfing her pussy in his mouth, like a starved man craving to have his thirst quenched.

 "Jey," she whimpered, "Oh god, Jey."

His grip on her hips tightened, keeping her in place as she began to buck against his mouth. The chair creaked beneath her, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the sweet, sweet pressure building within her.

“Baby, it’s too much,” she cried out pushing at his shoulders.

"Nah, don't run," he murmured looking up at her, his voice muffled by her flesh. "You said you wanted Daddy to eat it his pussy.  So, stop runnin', be yo ass still, and let me eat my pussy."

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Lana moaned, her nails digging into Jey's scalp as she tried to hold on to any shred of control she had left but it was no use. As soon as he sped up his ministrations, flicking and swirling his long tongue against her clit in a counterclockwise, clockwise rhythm it was a wrap as intense waves of pleasure began building as she climbed higher and higher.

“Don’t stop-”

“Yea, I feel it..I know you right there, I ain’t stoppin’ Ma,” Jey groaned as he slid two thick fingers inside her, his tongue still devouring her. Lana’s breath hitched as he curled them in just the right way against her G-spot over and over again, in tune with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned, riding his face as he moaned against her, the vibrations sending another jolt through her body.

"Mmhm, you bout to come for daddy," he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Yes..Yes..Mmm, fuck yes.”

"Give it to me," he demanded, his eyes burning into hers. "Come on, baby, let it go."

With a final, desperate whine, Lana came. Her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, as Jey drew out every last drop of pleasure from her trembling body.

As she came down from her unbelievable orgasm, she collapsed against the chair, her chest heaving. "Baby," she murmured, her voice shaky and legs still trembling, "That was...Oou, fuck.”

“Yea, I know, mama,” Jey chuckled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Mmm, I could stay down here all night, but I know we ain’t got time,” he whispered, kissing his way up her body, savoring the taste of her on his lips, his body pressing against hers.

 "I love how you taste," he murmured against her mouth, his voice a low rumble as Lana moaned, her hands moving to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he claimed her lips in a passionate kiss.

Her eyes went wide with surprise as she felt the hot, thick pressure of him at her entrance as he slipped the thick mushroom tip inside her. "Jey," she gasped, her body tensing.

"Surprise, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with dark amusement. "I know you ain’t think you was leavin’ this room without me dickin’ you down after seein’ you in dat dress?"

With a snap of his hips, Jey entered her. Lana's screams were muffled by his kiss. Her body arched against him in shock and pleasure as he didn't give her time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace that had her drunk in love with him.

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the suite. She could feel every inch of him, his dick stroking against her g-spot with an expertise that left her quivering.

“ B-baby, f-uh- Fuck, Mmhm!”

"Yeah, you like dat don’t you? Got yo ass tremblin’ n shit, dat dick feel good, don’t it?" he growled, as Lana whined.

"Talk to me, Ma..Do it feel good? Let Daddy know."

"Jey, oh my god, yes," she cried against his lips, her nails digging into his skin. He didn't slow, didn't ease up, his movements relentless and powerful as he claimed her lips again, taking her breath away.

 "Fuck, you feel and taste so good, I can’t get enough." He panted heavily, breaking their kiss as Lana fought to catch her breath.

 "You mine, Lana..Say dat shit," he groaned, his own body on edge.

“I’m yours,” she moaned as Jey released the breath he was holding. "Mmmhm, and since you mine, you know I ain't pullin' out.. You know dat shit, right?"

“Yes, I don't want you too,” Lana moaned, the possessiveness in his voice sent another wave of arousal crashing over her. “Uh, give me dat dick, shit,” she gasped, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper.

Her wetness surrounding his dick as he claimed her. “Gotdam here it go, fuck La. Dat pussy wet as fuck and jus grippin' daddy, look baby,” Jey groaned as they looked down together, turned on watching his dick piston in and out of her.  “Shit!" Lana gasped as Jey's face lit up in satisfaction at what was about to happen.

“Yea, you ready ain’t you, Ma? Mmhm, I know you ready.”

“Yes, I need it!” Lana cried out as Jey claimed her lips again. The room a blur of pure passion as the chair creaked under the strain, but neither of them cared. This was their moment, their time to claim each other before the chaos of WrestleMania weekend.

“You luv me?” Jey asked, moaning into their kiss, his tongue dueling with hers as he held himself up, one hand on the chair's arm and the other, above her head, grabbing the base of the chair for leverage.

“Yes, I love you so much,” Lana gasps as his powerful thrusts took her breath away. She met his eyes, her pupils blown with lust. "Shit, you fuckin’ me so good, Jey…Mmm, always," she praised, her voice raw.

He grinned against her mouth, his teeth grazing her lower lip. "Cause’ this the best pussy Ion ever had, La," he murmured truthfully, his voice a low rumble.

“Yea?”

"Mmhm, pussy so good, got me sprung, Ma. Be dreamin’ bout fallin’ asleep in it when I ain’t wit you." His words sent another jolt of desire through her body as she whimpered. “Mmm, fuck.”

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the suite, her hips bucking wildly against his as Jey's eyes rolled back in his head. His own pleasure mounting with every deep stroke. He felt her pussy tighten around him so tight it took his breath.  

“Gotdamn…Fuck, cum for Daddy, baby" he hissed, and she did, her body shuddered as she let go, her juices gushing out of her and coating his dick. "Fuck," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut, pulling him closer as he pulled out.

His dick glistening with her essence as he smacked it against her clit setting her body on fire, making her jump. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice gruff.

Her eyes flew open, meeting his intense gaze. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "Cum inside me."

Jey's control snapped as he slammed back into her, his own ending near, he couldn’t hold it anymore as a primal growl escaped his lips, "My pussy."

Her walls tightened around him, her still body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Yes, Daddy, it's yours," she whimpered, her eyes never leaving his. His thrusts, more frantic and harder.

"You want Daddy's nut?" he panted as Lana cried out.

"Yes," her voice hoarse. "I want it all."

“Fuck, i'mma give it all to ya…. Every last fuckin’ drop…Ah shit, here it go,” and with a roar, Jey came inside her as she fell over the cliff of ecstasy once more screaming his name, their chests heaving as they stared into each other's eyes coming down from their moment of passion and clarity.

"Happy WrestleMania weekend, La," Jey murmured, his voice filled with love and lust as their lip met again.

"Happy WrestleMania week, baby."

The End

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo@arination99 @2-muchsauce

@bakugoumarianawrites @empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae

@anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld jeyusosgirl  theninthwonder mya2real  justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant  reignsboy19

wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

harmshake  truefant4sy  yana3sworld amandairene88

unapologeticqueen94 empressdede xbriexx tshepisho

 thatgirlest98 zdotspinalot mainthingdoja jimingotthajams

rose-bliss mrswolffs-blog maeb99 jstarr86 nbanenefrmdao

sayyestoheav3nn digidestned  heathetherlamont30 trashbin-nie

rebelrel0987 kriissy4gov brokenglassslippers headoftheetable

severenswife sayyestoheav3nn pittieprincess22 mindairy

jaded-human mainthingdoja mrswolffs-blog shamaness11 justarheaslut

[kotonoba]

Make Stupid Choices, Win Stupid Prizes (Katakuri/F!Reader)

Summary: Oven convinces Katakuri to try a new "trending" prank on the reader.

a/n: Been writing a lot of angst recently, thought I should lighten up the mood with something lighthearted. I also love this sixteen-something feet of a man.

Warning(s): slightly ooc, fluff, comedy, established relationship

Inspo.

Posted on AO3

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

“I don’t think that’s smart, I don’t think she’ll like that very much,” Katakuri fussed over with his siblings. The recently hot and trending topic was to do a ‘current girlfriend vs. next girlfriend,’ and a lot of different responses came; most of them were rather violent. As the second son of Big Mom, everyone expected perfection from him, everyone but you. You knew he still had to be human enough. And human he was to you, aside from being several feet taller than you, and several times stronger than you. You’re more than grateful he hasn’t ‘accidentally’ killed you in his sleep yet. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Oven questioned; Katakuri answered with a nod, but beneath his calm demeanor lay a worried demon. “Come on, I’m sure it’ll be okay, she loves you, and you love her too, I’m sure she’s aware it’s just a joke and would love to play along. Playing is a sign of a healthy relationship!” Oven exclaimed happily, as Katakuri mulled over those details, Oven glanced off to the side at his other siblings, “Right?” There was a light discourse before they nodded and gave him a thumbs up. 

Some time had passed by the time you had gotten home from helping with the shipment and intake of materials for your next big project. You had a big dream and an even bigger ambition to succeed. You returned home to your shared abode with your boyfriend, who seemed more jittery than usual. You were hoping for something more intimate when he had said he wanted to do something with you. What you didn’t expect to see was a small transponder snail looking back at you as you turned to face your boyfriend, who knelt to get to eye level with you, “what’s the snail doing here? Who’s watching?” 

“Just my siblings, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you saw through his calmness, and saw how much he was fiddling with his scarf with his fingers. He was a friendly giant in your eyes, though not everyone agreed with you. He probably only showed you that side of himself because he fancied you. 

“Hm…” you side-eyed it a few times before turning your attention to your boyfriend, “alright, what is it?” 

You watched him closely; it seemed whatever he planned to do was weighing on him too much. As you were about to move to comfort him and relax, you heard him speak. You smile, and watched closely in response, “as many of you are aware, this here,” you watched him leisurely wrap his arm around you, “is my current girlfri–” you’re not aware of what you were thinking. But when you heard the words ‘current’ slip out of his mouth hidden beneath his scarf, you felt a vein pop, and all rationality fled you in the blink of an eye. You’re a normal civilian trained in self-defense originally because your parents worry that you would get kidnapped, and again because your boyfriend says he fears for your safety.

Without a second thought, a burning sensation rushed through your body, gathering at your hands. For a second, you recognized that to be Armament Haki. Still, you didn’t even process how you knew how to use it, you throat-chopped your boyfriend, which caused him to fall back in the middle of his introduction. A stupid one at that; the transponder snail widened its eyes as you turned towards your boyfriend, who was gasping for air. Trying to crawl back to you to calm you down, “you want to say that again, Charlotte Katakuri?” 

The color drained out of Katakuri’s features as he saw what could be his future with his Observation Haki, a future where he sustains more wounds than in his fight with Luffy. “I– ack–” he massages his neck through his scarf, reaching over to the snail to turn off the transpondance, “Oven just– he said it would be fun to try the trend with you, I–” he cleared his throat, a tinge of metallic liquid tainted his tongue, “I didn’t want to–”

“But you did,” you hissed, raising your hand again, Katakuri quickly protectively clasped onto your hand, “was that fun for you?” 

“No, respectfully, I didn’t think it was a smart decision either, but I couldn’t just say no to my siblings.” You knew Katakuri loved his siblings, no matter the hardships they put him through. You let your anger subside a little, watching him kneel back to your height, “I’m sorry for making such a stupid decision, but you sure are strong, maybe my next girl–” you didn’t give him time even to consider finishing that question when you placed him in a head lock this time.

“‘Current’ now ‘next’? You have a death wish, Charlotte Katakuri.” Katakuri’s features paled as your headlock tightened around him. He could easily break through, but he didn’t want to; to him, this was a sign of a healthy relationship. 

You let go of him after a bit of suffocation for him as you head back towards your shared bedroom, “where are you going?” 

“No kisses, no cuddles tonight,” you hissed, moving to close the door behind you.

Katakuri moved to hold onto the door knob, a look of distraught painted his features, so much so that his mouth was left agape after his scarf had fallen to the ground from the shock, “wh-why!?” 

You pried his hands off the door knob, “make stupid choices, win stupid prizes,” you growled, slamming the door behind, locking it after it was closed shut. 

Katakuri had never regretted listening to his siblings as much as today. However, it confirmed that your feelings for him were genuine, but you were stubborn enough to leave him in shock, standing outside the door to your shared bedroom for the entire night without opening it, no matter how he apologized.

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

[couch-potato28]

GAME NIGHT WITH THE NEL TEAMS!

(a/n: credit to @hizuchigaogao on X for the gorgeous art to the right—ubers part)

BASTARD MÜNCHEN: UNO

•This was doomed from the start. anyway—

•Prepare for a loooong night ‘cause nobody is going home until Kaiser has beaten everyone at least once

•Which actually never happens ‘cause he absolutely sucks at this game, and gets destroyed within the first 10 minutes with Isagi or Hiori being either winner

•Talking about Isagi, he clearly has an advantage from all the time his family has played this game. Does NOT have mercy on anyone, and he always asks for colors that nobody has

•Hiori is probably the only one actually paying attention to whose turn it is, and he’s the one in charge of shuffling and dealing the cards. Wins half of the game without even trying

•Kiyora somehow gets himself into the top 3 EVERY. SINGLE. TIME—his competitive ass is working extra hard at manifesting the best cards. Frequently uses the reverse ones with a smirk

•Ness is only there as emotional support for Kaiser. He plays a round or two then gives up before his duty turns into trying to help the blonde win with both of them failing at every attempt. Tries to secretly make Kaiser’s cards disappear like a magician (does not work and gets banned for the next round)

•Kurona is silent while observing the chaos around him. (Isagi supporter number 2) Half of his cards have the same number while the other half basically consists of every single action card in the deck

•Raichi is STRESSED. Probably not the best suited for this game cause poor guy always gets skipped for a round or two. Tries to take a sneak peak at Gagamaru’s cards, earning himself a kick to the ribs.

•Then there’s Yukimiya who stores his pick up 4s and 2s, ALWAYS using them last minute, making everyone groan when he doesn’t let them leave the round. He’s also the one to point out if someone hasn’t said UNO during their last card in an erm actually kind of style 🤓☝️

•Kunigami did NOT want to participate in game night but was forced to cause why not? It would be fun they said—to be frank it was not, or at least for him after every time it was his turn to play, the boys would stare at him in horror like he would punch them or something—(maybe or maybe not). Great player tho thanks to his sisters :)

•Look out for Gagamaru cause he will unintentionally or not make you pick up 12 cards at once. Barely knows the rules yet he’s never the last one to lose. No clue how he does it, just be careful—

•Since when does Noel Noa know how to play card games, and why is he currently sitting in a circle of young boys, carefully calculating which one is the best to place down next? Most importantly….why is he so good at it?

•“This game is stupid.”

•“You’re stupid.”

PARIS X GEN: JENGA

•If choosing the worst game to play with Shidou and Rin had an award then Karasu would be the winner

•Okay, hear him out, he thought it was a good idea to gather a bunch of teenage boys to play together for the sake of bonding—even Loki approved :(

•THE WHOLE GAME IS A MESS

•Shidou is a menace to society, and overall to anyone who’s playing cause he will intentionally push them. NOT afraid to push a jenga block into someone’s eye—he’s also surprisingly talented at this, always waiting for (or causing) others to screw up so he can win

•All while Rin is just naturally good at this, never missing a block while he tells the pink haired to shut up, focusing on keeping the tower stable. Has enough of Shidou after the third round, and kicks the whole tower down—(kinda familiar, anyone?)

•Charles is menace number 2—basically there to witness the drama between Ryusei and Rin, happily laughing his ass off during their arguments. Once he’s locked in tho, nobody will be able to win

•You know who’s the victim of these three? My baby Nanase. He’s the one assembling the tower, helping to pick up pieces that were thrown away by anger, explaining to Zantetsu the very simple rules, and worst of all—being a victim to Shidou’s harassment simply because he tried to help the younger Itoshi out ONE TIME

•Then there’s Karasu, the megamind of all. He’s stressed, fed up, done with his life—lowkey enjoys the drama. Probably the only one with the purpose of team bonding, and actually playing. Always misses the blocks by a millimeter, and is told to shut up by everyone when he says he wants to play in teams #justiceforcrowheadedking

•Okay Zantetsu is just confused—he knows Nijiro is trying his best but wdym he can’t just take out a whole level?

•Tokimitsu is anxious to the core. Everyone is such a meanie to the other, they already made him lose for the fifth time now, simply because they’re impatient. He considers that next time he might just stay in his room, and skip game night all together. Somebody help him—

•Okay final boss Loki enters the chat—he’s the type to start from the bottom with a go big or go home mindset making the others pissed when the whole tower is standing on one singular block thanks to him :) always helps to rebuild the tower tho

FC BARCHA: TWISTER

•Hahaha…you chose the right boys for this one. A fierce competition is going on between Otoya, Bachira and surprisingly their coach, Lavinho

•The rest of the team is just there to witness who comes out as the champion of the game night

•Bachira who starts off strong, his flexibility giving him a clear advantage. Always steps onto the wrong color yet he doesn’t even break a sweat when he’s told to raise his leg into the air for MINUTES

•Ofc the yellow head is great at this but Otoya is also damn good at making sure his leg never touches certain colored dots. Tries to cheat by resting when the others are not looking—lowk somehow manages to get away with it

•Coach is still in shape as everyone chants, watching Lavinho do one-hand stands and shit as he’s clearly enjoying the game

•This trio is not joking—everyone is going strong, staying in the weirdest, most uncomfortable and physically impossible (or not) positions known to mankind

•2 rounds in and Meguru already ends up with his bottom elevated, buttocks near the face of one of his teammates—only to release a dangerously stinky gas minutes later when someone makes a joke causing the other to stay in time out for the rest of the night

•Meanwhile Otoya’s getting kinda tired from having to hold one of his arms up while standing on one leg—but he can’t disappoint his ninja ancestors so he just continues to suffer in silence

•The ones who volunteered to give up have already bought some snacks and drinks, peacefully watching the last three person struggle

•After what feels like an eternity, bee boy and green onion telepathically agreed on teaming up against their mentor, whispering that at least one of them should win against the older man who’s still isn’t tired, and is CLEARLY not going to back out any time soon

•That’s how both of them in hopes to break Lavinho’s spirit—basically start to roast him with saying things like:

•”Doesn’t your back hurt?” “How old are you again, coach?” “I think I heard a crack somewhere—“

MANSHINE CITY: JUST DANCE

•Surprised or not this was Nagi’s idea to begin with. He suggested to play a few rounds, saying how fun is the most fundamental part of getting to know each other better and—okay, actually he just wished to be excluded from program, with the attempt of distracting the others with the game

•The rules were easy: dance to a song, and whoever gets the most points earns themselves a ‘free, no training today’ ticket signed by Chris Prince himself (he didn’t know about this)

•Nagi who’s still not convinced to join but when his plan of lazing around backfires—and after 20 minutes of constant persuasion by the whole team and mostly Reo, he willingly goes first, shaking his hips to Shakira, earning those extra points to the ticket

•Reo goes second, and even though the song choices are alright and his vocals are off the chart—his dance moves are just not it. Stiff as a stick, very few points gained

•Then there’s Chigiri, silently hiding in the corner of the room before his turn, secretly praying that nobody notices him. Probably the best only one to actually slay—perhaps the battles with his sister were finally paying off

•The whole gang dances like it’s a high school party (it is) and honestly the vibes are immaculate. Some of the boys have INSANE dance moves like okay chill—

•And of course, we can’t forget the coach, the biggest supporter of the whole game night, the one and only—Chris Prince who chooses the most BORING and EMBARRASSING songs to dance to which he surprisingly nails but still—

•Chris—to everyone’s disbelief gets the highest rank, meaning he’s the winner of the free day ticket. This man legitimately uses it by not coming to teach on a random Tuesday

•Agi’s basically like a mom, telling the others to enjoy the night, and DO NOT grimace while he takes photos and videos

•”Amazing moves guys! Good job, NOW LOOK INTO THE CAMERA 👹—say cheese!”

•All in all, they have a great night—without killing each other—and some moments end up being posted on the team’s official account, going viral the next morning

UBERS: MARIO KART

•This one was also a good idea. Putting Sendou against Aryu? Not so much. Those two sudden competitive sides came out the moment the game started, and they’re out FOR BLOOD.

•Literally takes them 10 whole minutes to decide who gets the red console making the others rush them. Surprisingly good drivers, maybe keep the insults to themselves

•Sendou who in the very beginning honestly just wants to beat everyone else while Aryu is focusing on winning elegantly but when the salmon haired bumps into his car for the third time? That elegance is OUT the window. They ditch the whole play fair in the end yet none of them get to the top 3

•Aiku thought he’s gonna easily win against Niko but after the first round? He barely stays alive even though he considers himself to be quite the professional go-kart driver. The gap between their scores is huge but no worries ‘cause by the third round he kinda gets the hang of it

•Niko who collects every single power-up item on the road as he drops them on Aiku with perfect precision, slowing the older’s car down. Gets the highest scores and the team always lets him choose the racing courses #privilegesofbeingtheyoungest

•The others are utterly shocked at some people’s driving skills but the night is going smoothly with laughter at every passing moment. The way some of them are taking it so seriously? It creates a fun atmosphere, and the whole team definitely got closer to each other.

•While Barou was practically forced to play, he gives up after about 2 rounds, saying he has had enough. Road rages the whole time but eventually calms down, and suddenly he’s in charge of the snacks while shouting from the sidelines to “do better” or “use those damn items”

•You know how coaches never play? Well, they do now, cause when Snuffy and even Lorenzo decides to participate too, the game takes a BIG turn

•Lorenzo who drives like a madman, loooves the slipstreams and tries to cheat his way through the race by pushing others to the edge.

•Snuffy calmly drives without a care in the world but will let out an occasional curse when the other Italian gets ahead of him by using his items. Has the best technique at assembling his car and always changes his character

•”Stop dropping your damn banana right in front of me!”

BONUS:

•Anri and Ego will occasionally play Monopoly together while they drink wine, and trash talk about the boss of JFU

•Ego thinks he’s the master of this game but when Anri absolutely strips him off of all his properties without leaving a penny?

•He spits out his soggy ramen, and spends NIGHTS researching tactics so the next time she doesn’t humiliate him

[rekino2114]

Can you do prompt 34 and 31 with fami and Asa/yoru

Ways the csm 2 girls tell you they're in the mood/NSFW headcanons

A/n:.....ok so basically I was writing prompt 34 and it just kinda.....got out of hand and I started writing straight up NSFW headcanons I had in mind for the girls cause I realized the post would have been too short otherwise...so I just added NSFW headcanons to prompt 34 cause.....yeah

for all of those who asked me how suggestive my posts can be....I think this is the limit

I don't know if I'll do prompt 31 too request again if you want me too and also I don't know which fami you wanted since this was requested after the reveal so I just did both of them......that's definitely not an excuse to add death who I am very down bad for

A lot of NSFW stuff below

Everyone involved is over 18

Asa mitaka/yoru

Asa is so awkward even at asking for simple affection, so she will almost never ask for sex even when she wants to.......meanwhile yoru will take you wherever and whenever she wants

Whenever asa's body starts feeling hot, both of them can feel it, and yoru will continue pestering asa until she asks you to fuck or just take over and start making out with you and stripping while asa yells in jealousy from inside her

It's funny how different they are, too, cause asa is very vanilla and likes to take her time and is, in general, a very gentle lover in that way.....meanwhile yoru is pretty rough most of the time and is into some very kinky stuff (definitely knife play and the like) only if you're OK with it too of course

Ok.......so how does sex with both of them work exactly? Do you think they switch in the middle or do they have like turns, like one night it's asa's time and the next one it's yoru's? Cause if they do I'm sure as hell yoru isn't following the schedule and randomly takes over during asa's turn just cause she wanted to have you to herself

Also, does the one who isn't in control of the body in the moment just...watch? And does it leave her pissed off that her other persona is having fun with her lover....or is she turned on by that? I feel like it's a mix of both, even if yoru will continue screaming until asa lets her have her turn.....even if it's not

Fami

Take everything I said about asa and multiply it by 100. This girl is soooo nervous and anxious about anything and everything. she was sweating bullets and insanely red in the face the first time you held hands. Imagine how she is during intimacy

The first time you asked her to have sex she genuinely had a nosebleed imagining the scene and fainted....when she woke up and you told her why she fainted.......she fainted again.....look she just needs a loooot of time to mentally prepare herself

Whenever she gets in the mood she actually prefers to relieve herself (usually using pictures of you) so she doesn't have to go through the embarrassment of asking you for help, but she genuinely thinks she'd self combust out or awkwardness if you walked in on her....which is a bigger problem than you might think cause she moans a lot and is generally very loud during intimacy

I'm sorry to say this but she's the bottomest bottom ever. She wants you to take her and fuck her until she's screaming your name.....she's somehow both into being praised and humiliated at the same time. she also does keep crying while doing it but don't worry it's mostly tears of happiness

One of her main dirty secrets is that she's actually into you leaving hickeys on her and claiming her, even if she always covers them and blushes whenever someone asks about them she likes the thought of everyone knowing she's yours

Death

Will straight up ask you "can we fuck?"

The thing about death is that she doesn't have any shame....like at all, she thinks sex between you is a completely normal and natural part of of your love life so there's no issues if she starts saying how good what you did last night felt or everything she wants to do to you that evening right?

Death actually doesn't get horny that often, so the times she actually asks you to have sex aren't that common but on the other end she's more than happy to take care of you whenever the mood strikes you. You could walk up to her at any time of day and any place and tell her you're feeling pent up and she will drop whatever she's doing and start pleasuring you right there and then

Speaking of pleasuring you, you cannot tell me she wouldn't give some absolutely insane head. Her two favorite things are you and tasting things you have no idea what that mouth can do. She thinks you taste amazing and will ask to use her mouth on you pretty often not because she's particularly horny she just wants to feel how good you feel in her mouth again......you have also woken up multiple times to her giving you head to "help you wake up"

For a very similar reason she really likes leaving hickeys all over your body. Not only does she think every part of you tastes amazing, but she also gets a kick out of knowing she left marks on you so that everyone knows what you did and that you're hers it's kind of the opposite of her younger sister. Of course however if you think she bites too hard or are not into it she'll stop and resort to licking you and making out with you during almost the entire experience

[thelawfulchaotic]

o mister lawyer of the internet do you have anything to teach us what do we say to a lawyer (or what do we do when we get one) how do you know if a lawyer is good or bad, and how much does it affect us what happens to the lawyer when you lose, or win -a very naive anon who wants more information

It is madam lawyer, I gotta slap my pronouns around here somewhere. (Ms./Mrs. feel bogus after you get called Madam Counselor enough times.)

Absolutely nothing happens to the lawyer. No matter how my clients cases go, I'm leaving the courthouse the same way I walked in, and I'm going to go sleep in a comfortable bed tonight in my safe home. Some people who try to be public defenders can't handle this, knowing that their clients are suffering while they aren't. Truth is, I need the sleep and the comfort and the safety to come through for the next client and the next and the next. I do my best not even to think about active work problems while at home (I think about them anyway).

If you get a lawyer, especially an appointed lawyer, CALL THEM. Do not wait for them to call you, because they have piles of cases and plenty to do. Don't be scared to be a little annoying, because they work for you. Leave a few messages, if they have administrative staff then make an appointment and show up for it. Best way to get a lawyer's attention is to be right in front of them when their schedule says to pay attention to you.

Whether a lawyer is good or bad will absolutely change everything. Lazy idiot attorneys just move their clients towards pleas. Energetic attorneys who litigate issues get a reputation for it, and they get better offers.

How you know a lawyer is good or bad is a pretty hard question to answer. There are a lot of things that make a lawyer good: they could be intensely well-researched, they could have an impeccable reputation that causes judges to listen to them when they make arguments, they could be from a locally-famous lawyer-judge-politician family which again causes judges to listen, they could be empathetic and good with client counseling. There are a ton of ways to be a good lawyer, and a ton of styles for being a good lawyer.

In general, a good lawyer will make you feel better after the interview than you did before. You'll have a good idea what the possible consequences could be and what the vague shape of some paths forward might be. You'll feel empowered in the sense that you'll know at least the important decisions are in your hands.

But those things are pretty easy to tell in the moment. Some more subtle red and.green flags that you might not know to look for are:

The lawyer pauses to look something up: GREEN FLAG. It's easy to mistake this for a red flag (lawyer doesn't know what they're doing!) but this is a sign of caution and thoroughness. Lawyers have to remember a lot, and the best know that they don't know everything.

The lawyer promises you results: RED FLAG. The lawyer is not in charge of the outcome and doesn't get to make the call. Weird shit happens in court all the time. No one making promises about the overall outcome can be trusted.

Lawyer won't give you a straight answer to your fucking question: completely neutral flag. Some questions don't have straight answers and lawyers love to say "maybe."

The lawyer makes some remark about the tendencies of the particular judge/prosecutor: most likely green flag. That lawyer is paying attention to their court and how it does things.

Lawyer is impatient and hard to connect with. Neutral flag. One of the most impatient attorneys with trouble with attorney/client relationships in the office is one of our best trial attorneys, and they get a lot fewer complaints after they win.

Shitty suit: Neutral flag. They should look put together, yes, but what a pain in the ass to put together a whole wardrobe of suits, much less GOOD suits.

Hitting on you: extremely red flag and possible ethical violation.

The rest is pretty easy to figure out on the fly.

As for what to tell them... confidentiality is absolutely real and very serious. The lawyer is not allowed to tell anyone else what you tell them. But some lawyers have different styles on what they ask. I'd say follow their cue, answer what they ask, but don't bury the lede, make sure to tell them the most crucial details. Bring documentation of stuff: text messages, screenshots, even diary entries. ER discharge notes. School transcripts. Whatever. Lawyers love documentation.

Honestly, I have so many great public defenders hanging around this blog, y'all can probably add some good stuff.

[slaaverin]

Imagine hating Jikook and they're just in their room, cuddling, showering, giggling and dancing.

This is exactly why everyone is doom panic mode cause they know Jikook been traveling the world just them two and that they don't even have to wonder about things Jikook get up to when they're alone together in their room, cause JIkook already told them and that makes their blood run cold. They know Jikook are probably showering together cause well, Jk kinda has to have him in there or he gets fussy lol (I still can't believe they told us that) and most likely sleeping together with Jk being the little spoon cuddling in Jimin's arms. I know it's keeping them awake at night thinking about. Jikook already put these images in their heads and confirmed its what they do and they know its happening now as we speak, while they are having meltdowns and throwing up and there is nothing they can do about it. Once that information is burned in your brain, you can't get it out. The walls are caving in and its only a matter of time before their worst nightmare is actually confirmed, cause Jikook aren't slowing down. And they know its coming. Its inevitable at this point. Its not "IF" it happens, it's now down to "WHEN" and they aren't ready. I suggest they get ready tho.

(Can't believe they told us that either 😂)

Add the fact that on whatever footage they're filming right now they will probably be even bolder than before

I think we are headed towards a total apocalypse that will leave all of them extinct

They will all flee one by one without ever turning back

I don't think any of them can get ready, they are already trying to cope with 38373 excuses and fs narratives. But at some point nothing will hold up anymore (it already doesn't) and the mental gymnastics will become too complex for their brain.

They'll have to admit defeat at some point

It seems some already are though, and I'm glad

This is gonna renew the fandom with hopefully less mentally challenged people next time

But the crash and burn will certainly be very violent.

Jikook are gonna set the record straight once and for all. No holding back anymore ~

Nobody can get ready for it.

Maybe not even us 🤷🏻‍♀️

[jjscrybaby]

https://www.tumblr.com/jjscrybaby/786807769436127232/neeeddd-more-dealerjj

Ooh dealer!jj ideas? How about reader starts buying too much from him then usual and he gets worried? If you’re not comfortable writing it or you’re not into it ignore this ask! <3

restless

warnings: anxious!reader, using weed to self medicate, soft!jj

a/n: this is loosely inspired by my real life when i actually had a dealer cut me off😭it was a long time ago and we definitely weren’t in love but i remember in the moment it acc snapped me out of it because it was embarrassing to be called out by a middle aged man who sold drugs

dealer!jj masterlist

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

You’d been buying from JJ for two months now; as well as sleeping with him. He felt weird about taking money from you, made him feel like some sort of prostitute, so most of the time you’d end up heading home the next day with a few rolled joints for free. You’d always go back and see him at some point during the next few days, but it wouldn’t be to buy again.

This week was different.

It was Thursday and you were showing up for the third time, not just to spend time with him but to get more weed; yesterday you’d come and grabbed it and left after only twenty minutes for work. Most of the time he didn’t care, didn’t even notice how much his regular customers were buying, but you were different. You were important.

“What happened to the last six joints I sold you?” You’d been there five minutes and he was already starting the interrogation.

“Uh, I smoked them,” you replied, looking up at him in confusion.

“Tha’s a lot to smoke in three days, ‘specially for you. There somethin’ going on I should know about?” He asked bluntly.

You looked lost and he felt a little guilty for coming across so judgemental, he wasn’t judging you — hell, he was the dealer. He was just worried, and he didn’t like the feeling. He didn’t like caring this much about someone he’d only known two months.

“I don’t know what you mean, Jayj,” you said softly, looking up at him.

“It’s just— you ain’t a big smoker, every time we share one you have a few pulls and you’re in the clouds. It ain’t normal for you to be gettin’ through them that quickly,” he explained, taking your hand to lead you over to the couch.

The fact you looked like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar made him feel like he was right to be concerned.

“Talk to me, baby. What’s goin’ on, huh?” He murmured soothingly, reaching out to cup your face in the palm of his hand. It took all of two seconds for your eyes to fill with tears.

“Nothing!” You argued, sniffling as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Why’re you cryin’ then?” He wasn’t going to listen to your lies. You’d learnt pretty quickly that JJ was a straight forward kind of person, he said it how it was and he expected that back.

“I just— it helps me calm down,” you admitted through your tears. “I wasn’t planning on going through it all, but it’s just— it’s been a tough week.”

“Okay,” he murmured softly, wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why’s it been a tough week, hm? Talk to me.”

For the next twenty minutes you sat there and spilled your guts. You told him about the lack of money your families restaurant has been making; which has lead to disputes all through the day and night. You told him about your friend that had started an argument with you over cancelling plans — because you had to work. You told him about how sleep hasn’t been coming easy for you, and that’s not helping with the stress that you’re under. By the time you were done you were all cried out, curled up in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Feelin’ a bit better?” He asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt the calm mood you’d slowly subsided into.

You shrugged your shoulders, still sniffling into the crook of his neck. “Dunno. A little.”

“Weed ain’t gonna solve any long term problems, it’ll just cause more. It’s fine to smoke every now and then, yeah? I definitely can’t be the one to say you can’t. But we don’t want you gettin’ dependent, that’s where the problem starts,” he explained, keeping his voice gentle.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed in a mumble.

“Always am,” he smirked, making you giggle softly. You pulled away from his embrace, just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. His smile softened as he saw your red rimmed eyes, thumb running over your cheekbone. “How ‘bout instead of smokin’ tonight we run you a bath and get pizza?”

Throughout the entire time you’d been hooking up with JJ, you’d never seen him go a night without a joint.

“Really?” You asked.

“Mhm hm. Sound good?” He didn’t want you to question him, because he also was well aware of the fact he hadn’t not smoked in the evening since he was thirteen.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you whispered back, giving him a soft smile as you leant in and pressed your lips to his.

Maybe love really does change you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I forgot his name, but can I request The Hood dating hcs? Maybe someone who also uses dark magic, but in a way similar to Agatha? However, reader can’t do much, or just like, can’t use intense magic cause they’re semi-bounded, so they’re restricted in their abilities.

I tried to keep it as close to the character as much as I can, implementing shit from the comics in terms of his backstory but yeah, this is the best I can do.

you most likely met during one of his heists, both gunning after an artefact, one that would help you strengthen your magic, make you more powerful and out grow the shadow that you had made for yourself.

shadow manipulation and illisionary magic, amongst the other generic abilities dark magic tends to give you had gotten you so far, the rest relied on your ability to worm your way in close proximity of highly valued artefacts of magical origin without being spotted.

It was highly likely that John would’ve been the one to have scouted you out, going back and telling Parker all about the dark magic user that he had happened to come across while you were using your magic to track your next artefact. Parker became intrigued by you and told John to keep a close eye on you and what you did, believing that due to your background in dark magic you’d be a highly valuable asset to him, especially when it came for bigger heists yet to come in the future that weren’t in regards of breaking and entering.

Your meeting was predestined in a way, almost as if something had been pulling the strings all along, guiding Parker into finding you and bringing you into his crew. You could tell from the moment you met him that the hood he wore was brimming with dark magic, you could easily hear the demonic whispered and taunts as well as he could, hearing them ask about desires amongst other things.

‘Where did you get that.’ You pointed to the hood.

Parker shrugged. ‘Snagged it off of someone.’

‘More like something,’ you replied, still getting use to the overwhelming presence of the hood’s magic, ‘that hood is dark magic, darkest I’ve ever felt and you’re meant to tell me it’s not feeding off of you.’ You add.

Parker clenched his jaw, the hood feeling a lot warmer then it usually was upon his shoulders, knowing you were very much in the right, you were quite possibly the only person who could understand the gravitas of dark magic and the burden it carries.

You raised your brows. ‘Or is it perhaps changing you, slowly, gradually, ridding you of your humanity until there is nothing left, altering you into something…not human anymore.’ You eyed him closely before adding. ‘Dark magic has a heavy price to pay, but I’m assuming you’re aware of that by now.’

You had an inkling about the hood and it wasn’t until you came across Parker shirtless one night that you saw that your inkling was more right than you originally thought. Scales across his back and trailing the back of his neck ever so slightly, the tattoos did little to hide what was happening to him and suddenly against your own better judgement you were by his side, holding his hand as you could feel the dark magic surging through him that tethered him to the crimson hood.

‘Now you see,’ Parker said, looking you in the eye, ‘now you know.’

Now let’s just get to the relationship aspect.

Parker deeply cares those he’s closest to, particularly you and his cousin John, though that didn’t mean he didn’t care for his crew because he did but it was of how far that care extended that made you different from the others. (And not in a pick me way either, you just know more then most of the crew about the situation with his demonic hood)

It was obviously taking its toll on him and you would try and give him the space he needs, while also been close enough to offer aid should he need you to help combat the whispers within his head, wiping away the sweat the build up upon his forehead as you held his face within your hands and clam him down by using hushed wishers and allowing him to cling to you.

John -albeit skeptical of you at first, merely protective of his family- slowly began to warm up to you and come to appreciate when you could get through to Parker when he thought the Hood was taking him away from him. He could see how much you did care for Parker, having been made aware of his sick mother whom he wanted to take care of, even if it was by certain means to do so, you didn’t judge and instead would offer a shoulder to lean on as a form of reassurance that both Parker and John were thankful for.

Parker would be very protective over you, even if he was aware that you had magic on your side, yet you’ve mentioned time and time again that you were on restricted magic which meant you could only do so much before you hit your limit. Yet despite being stuck with restricted dark magic, Parker still found your ability and control over it fascinating, tracking magic, illusion magic and shadow magic were just the few that he would step back and watch you with a proud expression.

He’s just watching over you and wouldn’t be too far from you during heists, always a few steps away from doing whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant becoming more and more reliant on the dark magic within the hood. His care for you, for John and for his crew would often be something you reprimanded him on as Dark magic would easily use this against him.

Parker didn’t care, he knew what he was getting into and didn’t mind loosing his humanity if it meant ensuring your safety, always coming to find you after the guests were over and pressing his head against your own, happy that you were safe and sound as you return his smile and reassurance upon seeing him safe and sound. You understood and would do the same for Parker, truly believing in his vision, so you couldn’t hold it against him from protecting his own.

The crew would tease you both for being sickeningly cute, but Slug absolutely adores your relationship, John was happy that Parker was happy, the blood sisters weren’t all that bothered about your relationship but were happy for you both either way, just as long as it didn’t make either of you loose sight of the bigger picture, clown -much like slug- adored your relationship and Riri was eyeing you both as while you both were cute; you both were dangerous adversaries we versed in Dark magic that could make a simple situation go from bad to worse within the blink of an eye.

to him you didn’t have to be all powerful, for it was always those with a limited range of abilities that tended to do the most shocking things, take more people by surprise by merely emerging from their shadows in comparison to creating a wave of chaos magic to take out your adversaries. That and he would inquire you more about Dark magic in hopes he would understand what he was messing with, always keenly away that dark magic is cryptic and often has second meanings that often backfire of those who sought it for means that can be manipulated.

Affection didn’t come frequently as Parker was focused from going from one heist to the next, so there’s not much time to be soft and gentle with one another, but that doesn’t stop you from making time to be affectionate with one another while being mindful of the blackened veins upon his back and kiss across his shoulders and his jawline as you admire his features. ‘It’ll be all yours, one by one, they’ll fall before you feet I assure you.’

‘Ours.’ Parker corrects you, holding your hand. ‘Ours.’ He repeats as he pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead as a prosperous future flashes before him, one where he would treat you better then his own father and one where you got to meet her mother for he knew that she would absolutely love you but Parker knew there’s too much work to be done before he could even fathom the idea of properly settling down. Yet it’s part of the bigger picture for Parker and he was determined to make that future a reality and not something the Hood would taunt him with.

John would tease Parker for being such a sap with you, nudging him in the shoulder and reminding him of the plan, reminding Parker that while he’s happy that he’s happy there was a time and a place to displace such vulnerability. Parker reassured John that his eyes were on the prize, knowing John’s main concern was in regard to the Hood and its manipulative nature. ‘You’re lovestruck.’ John would say teasingly as he saw Parker watch you read a dusty old tome about Dark magic while floating in mid-air.

‘How could I not.’ Parker replied, smiling as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he continued to admire you as John clapped his shoulder. ‘As long as you know what’s at stake and don’t make it a point to stare at them 24/7 then be a sappy shit as much as you want.’ Parker laughs, happy to know that John approved of his relationship with you, always valuing his thoughts and opinions above most, and knowing that it can only go up from here.

[letters-from-himring-hill]

Some of this is not as bad as it sounds and some of it is worse. In order:

The last time Gavrel died, it was at the hands of a monster which apparently flayed him (partly) and then removed his spine (to use as a whip, possibly, considering the legends I found when I looked them up). Morwen does not know this. Morwen is going to be utterly horrified when she finds out.

Bloodbinding is a form of magical oath which creates a compulsion to obey the exact terms of the promise and drives you mad if you don't fulfill it. Kaera briefly inflicted one on Atticus as part of his punishment for [redacted events], but broke it after losing her memories, because she is currently in denial about Atticus being who he says he is.

When Morwen initially met Atticus, she was CONVINCED that he was Budget Saruman, and one wrong word from her would have him murdering her for her Titles. In fairness to her, below the cut is the transcript of the first time they met, so you can see how badly his flirting backfired. For context, she had overextended herself casting magic and was basically bedridden until she was cured, and Gavrel brought her to Atticus because he didn't have a high enough potion making skill to cure her himself.

You are entirely correct about the need for eucatastrophe!

The room seems to be a sitting room or library. There's a desk with a plush chair, two sofas and a coffee table, and a rather impressive collection of books behind locked glass. He lays you gently on a sofa. "There is a slim but not-nonexistant chance," he says, looking at the door with apprehension, "that I might die in the next few minutes."

"What. Why. You could leave and I could explain to him. After all, he's going to need the true story anyway and I can give him that."

"I wouldn't trust him alone with you if my life depended on it. I...I killed his previous master, the man most like his father, when I first came here. He has a right to my head and I have just willingly walked into a space where PvP is legal. I'm stronger than him, so it's unlikely he'll try, but as I said, the possibility is non-zero."

"...the ONLY thing keeping me from threatening to explode his study is the knowledge that you would probably have to clean up that mess."

He looks over at you with a dark glare. "Try it. You'll find that within these walls, only one mage's powers are permitted."

"I'm not going to try, that's what I just said, because you would have to clean up the aftermath and someone would probably blame you for all of it. But I am running out of tolerance for nonsense and rudeness, and trying to kill my friends is rude."

All the malice melts from his face, and he's left with a lost look of surprise and innocence. "We're friends?"

(...oh, look at those shards on the floor, there goes my heart.) "If saving my life, sitting up with me for a day while I was unconscious, and taking the blame for the explosion I caused doesn't make you my friend, I don't know what could. Okay, come here. I'm going to hug you and either I can stand up and then fall over trying to do that, or you can come over here."

"That's-" whatever he intended to obfuscate with is cut off when the doors to the room bang open.

A young man with long white hair, crystalline red eyes and a trailing white and turquoise robe enters the room. If the look Gavrel had given was dark, this is one of pure malice. It sweeps over Gavrel first, then over you, softening into one of pity. There isn't any magic being slung just yet, but the magician does languidly taunt Gavrel: "Ah, so I see you have enough magic to blow her up, but not enough to heal her injuries. How will you effectively brainwash her into submission at this rate?"

Gavrel clenches his jaw, but doesn't refute it. "We need a rebound curative."

"Oh? So you can cure yourself and then show how powerful you are again? I think she read the message the first time." The white wizard steps closer to you, and Gavrel moves between you two almost instinctively, but without even breaking stride, the wizard flicks his wrist disdainfully and Gavrel is slammed into a bookcase. You can already see him struggling against it, but it's not particularly effective. The man kneels in front of you, his kind tone — though still a bit silvery — is a counterpoint to the fact that Gavrel is doing his best to thrash about in the iron grip of his spell. "I am Master Atticus of the Wizards Guild, Archmage of Terrafell. Where are you hurt, darling?"

I restrain the impulse to bite him. “My arm,” I say. “Please let my friend go.”

"Come now, darling," he says with a gentle touch to your arm, above the injury. "Tell me what's happened and I'll help you." He begins smoothly unwinding the bandage. "Usually, healing is an art left to the Tamed Garden, but as he's been banned from the premises unless being Reborn, I will not refuse you any courtesy in return." Gavrel shifts uneasily in the bind.

“I would like a rebound curative, please,” I repeat quietly. It is at this point that I realise the man in front of me would kill me for my titles without hesitation. I send up, mentally, my first attempts at prayer to the powers of this world.

Atticus smooths your hair, either oblivious to the hatred rolling off you or mistaking your cool fear of him for a fear of Gavrel. He returns to unwrapping the binding on your arm, then drops it and reels back when it's halfway undone. His hold on Gavrel drops but before he can get on his feet again, the spell is back. "What the hell is this?" Atticus hisses at him.

When you look down at your arm, it's clear that it hasn't been crushed by rocks. There are three distinct bolts of lightning streaking across your forearm, the wounds open and still dancing with lightning. When the lightning from one part dies back, liquid flesh seems to ooze from the wound like melted cheese only to bubble and burst. Idly, you wonder if the reason your head is swimming so much is because Gavrel has given you something for the pain because there is no way you shouldn't be feeling this. "We need," Gavrel gasps, a "curative."

"Why in the five civilizations is she the one suffering from rebound? This is complete Numenosis. What did you tell her to do?" Atticus is shouting at Gavrel now.

I decide to play the naif. Atticus has clearly underestimated me. “Master Atticus, why is my arm doing that?” I don’t even have to fake the shake in my voice. “Gavrel said you could help me!”

He's stopped short by that, gives Gavrel an indecipherable look, and then turns back to you. "This is Numenosis, darling." He's soft-spoken this time, calm and collected. He fetches something from his desk, a crystal vial of shimmery magenta liquid. He approaches you smoothly, and unstoppers the vial. "This will help with your arm. Can I administer it to you?" It's as if he's approaching a spooked horse, and just as before, the attitude in how he treats you versus Gavrel is jarring.

“Is that the re…the rebound curative?”

He nods and slides his knuckles under your chin to tilt it up. "May I?"

(I AM GOING TO BITE HIM. BITE HIS FINGERS. RUDE MAN.) It’s a very good thing Master Atticus either can’t read minds, or isn’t reading mine. I assume Gavrel would be making indignant noises if this was not what Atticus said it was and somehow I don’t want to look to him to check, if only to avoid reinforcing the abuse narrative Atticus is constructing. “Yes,” I say quietly.

He smiles at you, or rather smirks, and touches it to your lips before tilting the bottle up. It's similar to the cordial Gavrel gave you earlier, but not at all nice. It's acrid and drying and gritty and the aftertaste is like trying to eat a teaspoon of dry cinnamon. You cough and gag as it goes down, but the minute it does, the room stops spinning and your arm stops thrumming with an incessant drip of magic. Atticus then slides his fingers from your chin down your arm, trailing a warm, green magic in its wake. He's humming something warm and tender that brings to mind a babbling brook in spring. He trades from fingertips to whole palm when he gets to your forearm, practically encasing it. You feel your skin knit together and cool under his ministrations, which finish with him clasping your hands together for a moment. When he withdraws, you're left with three lightning-like scars that stretch from just above your elbow to the heel of your palm. He looks over you again, and shifts your hair away from your sweaty forehead. "Are you hurt anywhere else, darling?"

"No, thank you," I say, sitting up carefully. (Is Gavrel still stuck against the bookcase?)

You're safe as you sit up, no dizziness or white outs at all. "Very well," he says, and sits across from you on the coffee table. "Now, please, darling. Tell me what you've gotten yourself into. I can help." (he is)

"Master Atticus, I appreciate very much that you just healed me. But please let my friend go now. I'm very tired, and I'll be happy to come back here, but right now I want to go to my own house and have some time to recover."

He narrows his eyes and glances behind him at your mention of the word friend. "I am sure you need your recovery. Would you not prefer to stay in the Inn? I happen to know of a room with a private bath which would, of course, considering your state, come free of charge. We can meet over breakfast and discuss what exactly happened. You've no need to fear — the innocent aren't punished for accidents here, and we have the best prison in all of Terrafell right beneath our feet."

"Master Atticus, I thought you wanted to help me!" I don't have to act the fear here, either, just let the mask slip a little. Only to show the fear. Not to show the desire to beat the snot out of him, grab my friend, and run.

"Of course, darling," he says. "Whatever you did, you surely couldn't have done it on purpose. You don't have to be scared of him. Even if you don't wish to cause his death, there are options for you." Gavrel sputters in the background.

“I’m not scared of him!” I snap, shooting for ‘petulant and confused’ instead of ‘I want to remove your spleen with a blunt knife’. “Wait. Did you think he was going to hurt me?”

He glances back dangerously. "I think it's fairly obvious he already has," then turning back to you, he says "Being scared of him would prove your wisdom."

“That was an accident,” I say, still going for petulant. “On both our parts. When the spell started going out of control he tried to stop it. Master Atticus, I promise you, if he ever acted against me from malice, I would come right here for help.” (Half of this is true. Half of it is lying through my teeth, of course.)

He looks at you consideringly. "While I assure you, I have nothing but the highest regard for you, I'm afraid I distrust him immensely. I'm rather disinclined to believe any narrative with him as a hero, and even if I can't explain the rebound you have, that's hardly an explanation for the state of the Court of Thaumaturgy." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "There isn't a way to legally deal with this without your cooperation, however. So I will make...an arrangement with you, hmm, darling? You come meet me for tea once a week, and I'll let the Holy Knight go. Is that a deal you can accept?"

At this point I’m frazzled, terrified, and can’t think of a better way out. I hate this but I hate it less than the other options, and all of my other plans involve things like ‘agree to leave Gavrel and then try to initiate hand to hand when Atticus’ back is turned’ and seem like they could blow up in my face spectacularly. “Of course!” I chirp. “I love tea.”

He smiles, and tells you firmly, in a way that says he doesn't quite believe you're telling the truth, "I'll hold you to that, darling."

He nods, and with a twist of contempt, drops Gavrel to the ground. He coughs and heaves for a moment, getting his breath back, then stands and glares. "I look forward to the next time, Atticus," he says grimly, brushing past him and setting Atticus off balance enough that he almost ends up on the ground. "Come on." He helps you stand, then rushes you out the door, down the stairs, and out the front door. He turns to you in the street, his hand gripping the back of your shirt in desperation. "Are you okay?" He sounds like he's on the verge of tears himself.

I hug him. “For future reference, my dear, dense, absurdly self-sacrificing friend, the fact that the person you’re relying on to heal me has a murderous grudge against you is relevant information, which I should be told about before I am lying helpless in his study. I think I’m okay, but if he ever touches either of us again I’m going to want to tear his throat out with my teeth.”

Atticus scar mockup. Do not come for me about his robes, Sims 4's available clothing is pitiful.