#this is all very messy and jumbled

[avvidstarion]

Ok here are my veilguard thoughts in no particular order like half a day after finishing the game:

Choosing not to acknowledge previous games really made this game suffer in ways I think could have been completely avoided!!! Isabela and Dorian could have been way more flushed out, the inquisitor could have mattered way more, things of that nature. So much wonderful warden content and yet no substantial mention of the hof!!

Crows were fuckin busted to the point of being unrecognizable. Many posts have been made about this. “I’m founding a house that’ll take in orphans!” Bitch the crows buy orphans off the street. “The crows fight for antiva!” The crows fight for the highest bidder.

Speaking of— why did this game completely refuse to acknowledge anything bad about the setting????? Crows are great now actually! We’re only briefly going to mention slavery in tevinter! There is not geopolitical conflict here!

I think it’s a larger trend in this game where it just really didn’t want any meanness in the world??? You aren’t allowed to be mean. All your companions get along pretty much right away and any conflict is easily fixed off screen.

Really hated the set personality for rook. Why even give us the illusion of choice with the dialogue options?? Hawke also was a pretty set character compared to the warden but the dialogue options really shaped the way the voice actors delivered lines!! And the lines were all different! With rook I sometimes even questioned why a serious option was given the serious label. Let me be grumpy and stoic!!

Similarly (at least with the wardens) there was no way to be anything but enthusiastic for your faction??? Let my warden be conscripted against their will!!

I will say though. I did enjoy everything to do with the wardens. Weisshaupt did not disappoint. Antoine and evka were great!!! And I got a lot of special dialogue/references to being a warden

Another thing I really liked was the combat!!!! So much fun. I have an hour or so in a different play through with a different class and I think it’s cool how different the classes are, combat wise

Characters!!!!! Loved all of their personalities but I think some of their quests were lacking. Some of them seemed very shallow. But like just from a personality standpoint I think this is like my second favorite cast of characters so far

I did enjoy that my choices had impacts on the characters’ combat abilities! I chose Treviso over Minrathous and neve’s healing abilities were locked and her attacks were heightened. SO cool!!! I just wish there were more opportunities to do that!!

Romance was…fine. I want more scenes with the LIs. Taash’s was a little lackluster but I am curious to see if that will be the case with others. Not the best but I don’t think any worse than the romances in inquisition

I liked a lot of the lore! Liked all of the titan lore. Loved that the elves were originally spirits. But I do think generally weekes cares about lore only in terms of how they can make it about solas. Same with the previous games.

Morrigan did not need to be here and I’m mad that they retconned the well of sorrows

Inquisitor should have had a larger role (though I am SO glad that they weren’t the protag). The fact that they didn’t even ask what class the inquisitor is was….frightening. The fact that the inquisitor was completely uninvolved in the solas showdown (unless you solavellaned) was bonkers. I really don’t understand why they were here

Varric. The twist was so obvious. Literally the first scene in the infirmary I figured it out— Harding came in and spoke to rook but didn’t acknowledge varric and I was like “oh he’s dead isn’t he. He isn’t really here only we can see him”. I think he was not in this game enough to warrant his death being so emotional. I am so unconvinced by his and Rook’s bond, it was too much tell and not enough show. I think it relied too much on nostalgia/the player already liking varric. And the fact that not even the inquisitor or Isabela comment????? They were really invested in this twist but just didn’t pull it off imo. Also the fact that varric barely talks about hawke is so annoying and makes me mad. You cannot divorce his character from hawke like this, hawke is so much of his motivation. I know it’s been ten years but like compare his character in inquisition to now re: the significance of hawke in his life. So weird. His last word should have been hawke. If hawke was alive they should have showed up like “wtf why did you let him die”. Whatever

LOVE THAT THEY ACTUALLY KILLED A COMPANION!!!! And the fact that they kill Assan too if it’s davrin was SO EVIL but like in a good way!!!!! It does make me wonder though— outside of romance, will harding’s death have the same impact?? Like with davrin you lose TWO companions

Neve/bellara should have died too im mad they pulled that punch

Did they ever explain why davrin didn’t die to the archdemon

Solas did not have enough presence in the narrative imo. Hes in our head he should be haunting us!!! We should have had more dream sequences with him/more of his memories. I also found the whole bait and switch with the fake dagger to be really dumb??? “Hey while you were knocked out we made this exact replica of the dagger offscreen and solas will never be able to tell the difference”??

Overall I have very mixed feelings about the game. I’m doing at least one more playthrough because right now I feel like I just can’t make sense of my feelings for it. I by no means loved it but I’m not sure if I hated it as much as I hate inquisition???

[litleo123]

@ygoc-week

day 1: introductions

i completely forgot this started yesterday, so imma day late, but here's my goober son <3

his name is joji yagami, he's part of the gx universe and was a osiris red before he graduated (cuz he does not gaf about card games). now he's a detective 3 years later, and gets into multiple hijinks with the other people in the office.

more bits of lore and goofy facts under the cut (also im very indecisive with his lore soo this will probably change later)

he's 21, around 5'1", a trans man, and bisexual

uses lunalights, and any other archetype that he thinks looks cute (wins by pure luck)

is an only child (as he knows of right now) so he is very pampered and is smug about everything

his hair is dyed, but will refuse to tell people what color it was originally

use to play bass in a band (stopped playing cuz it hurts his fingers)

is called a "lucky boy" by others around him (he has hilariously good luck in card games only tho)

is constantly teased by his friends (he will pout in the corner)

spaces out a lot, and usually zones out when people talk to him (he's only gonna be actively listening when they start talking about things he's passionate about)

he will start ranting about things he likes to anyone who's willing to listen (he will go on a hour long ramble about a random video game/manga)

hates eye contact, so he just stares at a random spot on someone (accidently makes them very uncomfortable)

chooses his words carefully around strangers, but is very blunt to people he considers close

tries to take advantageous of his looks (is aware he is cute but it rarely works cuz he has a terrible personality)

is very sensitive to others feelings, but is oblivious to any person showing interest towards him (thinks any affection he receives is platonic)

a bit of a coward when things get hairy (has the ability to fight but is very lazy...)

he will only take things seriously when doing investigations for his detective work (most of the time, he gets distracted by the other people he brings with him who are usually nuisances)

im not a writer at all, so hopefully this makes any sense at all

[surviveds]

okay. tommy posting! a masterpost of introductory hcs for my portrayal. i might expand on specific points in different posts because i have a lot of thoughts and feelings.

first and foremost: tommy is closer to 50 than 40. lou is 39 but it doesn't make sense with the canon they've provided in s7 for tommy to be the same age, because if he was, that'd mean he was ~19 in '05 during chim begins and that's just not possible with him also having served (he's clearly not a probie and it seems like he's been at the 118 for years at that point). i'm putting him at maybe 45 or 46.

i do take a lot of inspiration from what lou has had to say about him. he's an only child of shitty parents who didn't really want to be parents, and that had a profound impact on him.

his dad was a miserable man and mediocre cop who felt bad about being mediocre and took it out on his wife and son.

tommy actually did fairly well in school, hoping it'd help assist in his plan of Getting Out, but things really didn't go his way on the college front and he felt trapped, which is what led him to enlisting.

and for the most part, he operated fairly well in the military. it was good to have order. and he was already accustomed to being treated terribly - but it was a little different because at least it wasn't his dad. he did his job and kept to himself, at least for a while, until he started a 'relationship' with another soldier. it was toxic and pretty terrible, overshadowed by DADT, and it ended pretty brutally. tommy had already become pretty disillusioned to the army by the point it ended, but it was another major factor in him getting out the first chance he got.

when he was discharged, he didn't even bother going home. he went to LA, choosing it as his new city because it felt very safe due to its size. it felt like a place that'd be easy to disappear and be just another guy.

he didn't immediately jump to a career with the LAFD. he had a few months of trying to figure his shit out, contemplating if he should finally try to go to college - but it was scary to think about so he ended up dropping the idea. he went through some basic jobs before applying to LAPD impulsively. army to police felt like a natural transition, and he thought maybe it would be a way to actually 'serve' his country, because being overseas doing shitty things for people who wouldn't give him good reasons hardly felt like 'service.' and he did make it through training, got a beat - but he realized pretty quickly that being a cop also wasn't for him. he stuck with it for a few months, though, because he was terrified of feeling lost and at least it was something and he did get to help people, sometimes. because he realized he did like helping people - and when, on one shift, he assisted some firefighters in helping rescue some kids from a wrecked car, and suddenly, a lot of things clicked for him. he turned in his badge and applied to the fire department a week later.

being in the army and then a cop means he wasn't surprised by the culture at the 118. he knew how to blend in well by that point. he knew what part to play to survive. and he does feel really bad about it. he worked hard to make peace with hen and chimney, and they're two people who are incredibly important to him - hen, because she was formative in helping him understand that he can be himself, and chimney because of course he wouldn't be alive without him.

(i also want to point out that i believe he briefly had a crush on chimney. but with all of the repression going on he refused to really recognize it. it did slightly contribute to him not wanting to be around chimney at first, though.)

tommy first acknowledged to himself that he was gay just before he put in for a transfer. of course he understood he was attracted to men long before that point; he'd had secret flings - not just the one in the military - but he'd still tried to be with women. he wanted to believe he was bisexual for a long time and that he could just 'suppress one side of it', but it didn't work. when he accepted he was gay, he put in for a transfer because he felt it'd be easier to start over at a new house. it was a very tough decision, because hen and howie had become family, and he had started to form a relationship with bobby... but he knew this was what he needed to be himself. he didn't have some big announcement about his identity like hen did when he transferred, but he didn't make efforts to hide it, either.

buck is the first firefighter he's dated, though. his prior relationships post-coming out were all with civilians - a few of which, yes, originated from meeting on calls. after the third time, though, he really felt it was a bad idea to continue that pattern. for him, personally, it felt like almost like a power imbalance, and he hated constantly wondering if the guys he was seeing just felt indebted.

he kept up with the 118 even after leaving - mostly because it's hard not to, with how often they make the news, but also because he genuinely does care about a lot of the people there. he reached out to chim after the car accident and the stabbing, and to hen after her accident.

[kavehayati]

Huh I just realised, what kinda riles up my psychosis is usually the type of things that rlly have an impact on me, like say guilt … GOD. Guilt genuinely takes a hold of me completely. That and shame. Like ;; listen. I just forgot the intensity of the guilt and shame I held today probably bc I shared it with dahlia idk, and then although I intellectually feel super guilty and ashamed, it’s not as terrifying as before, it’s more manageable. Like I can actually do other things now apart from thinking abt it ? But like nah I kinda remember it a lot now so maybe I should stop talking abt it.

[howlettsdoll]

‘sweatin and moanin’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ logan howlett x f! reader

thinking about logan in heat/with ruts x reader who’s ovulating … ohhh my god !!

content warnings ;

unprotected piv, size difference, heat/ruts, dubious consent but it’s very slight okay, cumming inside

the air between you two is thick and heavy as logan’s cock stretches you to the hilt like nothing else.

the sloppy mess and smell of pure, primal driven need also clings to the air — as well as the lewd, squelching sounds of him pounding into you: pulling delicious moans from both your bodies.

even after going like this for more times than you can count, both you and logan are anything but tired. and the reason for that?

logan’s in heat. all you could feel all week was him pressing up against you, whether from behind or in front, anywhere, anytime — just trying to get some friction. and as much as it pained you to shove him away each and every time, you didn’t want to risk anything in public.

however when he gets you to himself in his room, you two are all over eachother like rabid animals. he’s biting at your neck, big hands pulling at your clothes and nearly tearing them apart; not that you cared — all you wanted was to get dicked down, as your sex drive had spiked all week too.

and logan could tell. his already heightened senses only peaked when he was in heat: causing him to sniff you out from far away even, the sweet scent of your pussy dripping for him was enough to drive him to find you no matter where you were. and when he did, best believe he’ll drag you somewhere just to toy with your pussy.

“ah, look at her. always a sloppy mess for me, ain’ she?” he’d tease, lips hovering right over your neck as his hand had started to make it’s descent to slip into your panties, fingers already dragging lazy circles over your clit.

it was always a messy combination.

even in the mornings, when logan would wake up first, he’d notice you still asleep and slot his knee between your thighs and up your little short nightdress — nudging you awake by rubbing his knee against your clit through your already damp panties. by the time you’d wake up, you’d feel his warm cock already pressing against your folds, wake up to the sight of him on top of you, his arms pressed on either side of your pillow. “this okay, doll? m’ sorry, i couldn’t wait..” he’d grunt, voice still rough and tired, but you nodded in silent agreement — needing this just as much as him and feeling as he then sunk his cock into your wet, eager walls no problem — a groan leaving both him and you.

when you would wake up first, it was a little different, as you’d find yourself spreading your thighs to get onto his with a little whine. you rocked your hips against his thigh needily, awaking the man easily. he’d wake up to feel your heat rubbing up against his thigh.

“mm.. well look at my pretty princess, grindin’ like a lil puppy all over me—..” his tired voice would finally speak up as he registered the situation in his mind, his cock already starting to strain against his boxers. it made you whine for more, as his big hand shamelessly pulled your hand onto him to palm his cock — the beginning of a morning you two knew would last all afternoon.

and when i mean anytime, anywhere, i mean it. the man’s practically a dog, a dog in heat if you may. he’s absolutely rabid when in heat and will look for any excuse to get you someplace private just to get some release.

sometimes, you feel like you can barely keep up, with the way he’s manhandling you and shifting your position so he can get the best friction on his cock — for example, you could be on your back and this man, with his godforsaken huge hands, will shamelessly turn you onto your stomach and hold your head down against the pillow, slipping into your sweet pussy from behind to slam his cock against that spot he knows has you seeing stars, from the way your words turn into jumbled whines and moans.

and from that, he could also easily turn you back over into a mating press. his favorite. he’d most likely be like that for a while, until he empties his cum into you and has you doing the same all over his cock, before sitting back and starting to pull you onto his lap to ride him for another orgasm, a repeat of all week all over again.

[saphiccarma]

Hi! I saw your requests were back to being open so I would love to send in one if that’s not an issue! Could you do a wandanat x reader where Wanda and Natasha are both professors at a university where school and notice she’s slowly getting more and more burnt out and make it their mission to make her relax/ take care of herself. If comfy mommy Wanda and if not that’s fine! Not too dark smut but smut would be great! Yoy don’t have to make this your priority and don’t forget to take care of yourself!

- Overworked 18+

Relationships - Wandanat x Reader

Summary - When your collage proffesors notice you're starting to become burnt out, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: Soft dom Wanda, Daddy Nat (barely tho), scissoring, fingering, breast play, bath sex, gentle sex

A/N: I'm so sorry 😭this took me forever to get to , but ngl pretty proud of how it turned out

You could hear Natasha talking in front of the class, her words cutting through the air sharp and clear like a knife through butter. Very few students filled the room, either the unlucky ones or the ones dumb enough to take Natasha's class - Slavic Languages. You were a mix of both. Slavic languages was a class you'd been wanting to take ever since you got accepted into the university, but everyone tried to avoid Natasha at all costs, taking other classes instead.

The paper in front of you was a mix of words that swirled together and blurred into black smudges on the white sheet. Pencil shaking in your hand, you place your other on your wrist in a pathetic attempt to stop the trembling. It was most likely a side affect of the caffeine, as was your pounding heart, another energy drink sitting in your bag. Now you regret your spot in the front of class, just another excuse to be close to your girlfriend, but it made her eyes on you all the more intense.

Sharp green eyes flicked to you every now and then, taking in your messy hair and oversized sweatshirt that hung off your frame. The article of clothing still smelled like Natasha, vanilla and something uniquely her, keeping you somewhat grounded.

As you glanced up from your paper, forcing yourself to look away from the jumble of words, you caught Natasha's eye. She tilted her head subtly, a motion that only you noticed. A slight twitch of her eyebrow voiced the unspoken question, and you gave a small smile in hopes it'll appease her. Ever attentive, her eyes narrowed at the weak tilt of your lips but then a student raised his hand, and she had to leave you be for now.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips and your tired shoulders deflate. Natasha notices, based on the way her gaze flickers to you, but she's too busy answering the question in a sharp tone of voice that indicated it was something stupid to ask. Natasha took zero nonsense, one of the things that made her class so hard to pass, but it was something you loved about her.

Unfortunately, when class came to an end, that ended up backfiring on you. She caught your arm as the rest of the students trailed out. You almost wince at her tight grip before she loosens it, but her expression remains hard, eyebrows knitted together, and lips pursed.

"What's going on with you?" She asks, straight to the point, "Wanda and I have texted you dozens of times this morning and last night, yet you've answered none of them."

There's was a sharp reprimand to her tone that had you shrinking back into yourself, but also an underlying layer of concern that peaked through her rough demeanor. You avert your eyes down, a habit they've been trying to break, and shrug.

"I dunno," you mumble, "Been busy."

"Busy?" Natasha repeats slowly, the word falling off her lips like it's the first time she's heard it. You can tell you said the wrong thing.

Hastily, you try and explain, to backtrack, "I've been caught up with school, like half of my teachers have assigned tests or projects and I dunno, I'm just having to focus on those, but I think I can come over this weekend and-" You weren't aware you were rambling until Natasha huffs out an impatient breath.

There's a long stretch of silence where her thumb simply rubs circles on your shoulder. You can see the gears turning in her head, practically hear them, as she thought out her response. It wasn't often that it took her so long to respond, Natasha was rather quick-witted, so this meant it was either something very simple or something complicated.

"I want you at the house tonight," she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument even as you open your mouth to protest, "5 o'clock sharp for dinner, да?"

You lick your lips, already considering the amount of homework you would have. Then you take in the stern look on Natasha's face and nod with pursed lips and a taught expression. She gives you a small, yet appraising smile in return.

^__________________^

You show up with a backpack slung over your shoulder, your laptop and various textbooks crammed inside as it weighs on your shoulders. The chances of you staying the night were high, almost certain, so you might as well get some work done after dinner.

You don't bother with a knock, picking up the spare key from where you dropped it and unlocking the door with shaky fingers. Fresh spices and peppermint candles drift through the air, both potent smells that you've grown used to. With the winter here, Wanda had taken to lighting peppermint scented candles, something that Natasha fought her on.

Their bickering, playful and light, echoed from the kitchen softly and you smiled. It was something familiar, something that pierced through the foggy cloud in your brain. Dropping your bag by the door, landing with a heavy thump, you meander over to the kitchen, lingering in the doorway for a second.

Wanda notices you first, eyes shining with joy that seem to glow even brighter as she spots you. You meet her halfway, steps hurried, and burrow into her embrace with a tired sigh. She smells like the candles that are lit on the counter and a hit of cinnamon. Her hands curl around your neck, long fingers toying with the short strands at the nape and you relish in her touch.

"How are you?" she murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. She slips her hand beneath your shirt and beings to scratch the skin underneath, manicured nails dragging up and down lightly. All you give her in response is a content hum.

Her fingers that were around your neck find your chin, tilting it up gently, "Words, дорогой."

"I'm good," you mumble, licking your lips before she rewards you with a soft kiss to your lips, nose brushing against yours. She pulls away, taking her warmth with her, and busies herself in the kitchen once more. Since Natasha was utterly useless at anything but baking, Wanda did most of the cooking between the two of you.

With the loss of Wanda's comfort, you shuffle over to Natasha who's leaning on the counter. The older woman opens her arms without a word, and you burrow your face into her chest. Her chest rumbles as she laughs, a vibration that shoots straight to your heart and makes you melt.

She rests her chin and chats quietly with Wanda, their conversation going right over your head, both literally and figuratively. All you can focus on is the feeling of Natasha's strong arms wrapped around you, the soft fabric of her hoodie that presses against your cheek, her hand that rubs up and down your back in a soothing motion.

In the back of your mind, you know you should work on homework while Wanda finishes dinner, probably some warm Sokovian dish from her childhood, but being safe in your girlfriend's arms was too distracting. You turn your head and place a soft kiss on her neck, meant to just be a gesture of affection. As you do so you catch a glance at the clock, internally groaning. Pressing another kiss to her smooth skin, you extract yourself from her arms and grab your backpack.

Natasha huffs in disappointment but doesn't say anything as you take a seat at the table, pulling your laptop out and setting to work. The chef glances back with a fond smile on her face that quickly turns into a frown as she notices you starting to type on the laptop.

"дорогой, why don't you put the laptop away for now?" She requests softly. It's not a command, not yet at least, but there's a good chance it will turn into one.

"I have homework to do," The keys click slightly beneath your fingers as you start on an essay, the topic rather simple, but that was exactly the problem. You could explain it in just a page, maybe even less if you needed to, but the essay required three pages. Both of the other woman exchange a glance you miss.

Wanda exhales sharply but leaves you be as she continues on dinner. The words come to you slowly, as if you're pulling every single one of them from a pit of quicksand and they weigh a thousand pounds each as you chuck them onto the paper. It was such an easy task yet you were exhausted from working on it for just a few minutes.

You bounce your leg beneath the table, foot tapping on the wooden floor in a rapid movement as you chew on your chapped lips. It's another habit that you've been trying to break but to no avail, especially with the stress of the last few weeks. Your girlfriends cast a worried look in your direction at the sound of your foot hitting the floor and a frustrated exhale.

They had some sort of freaky marriage telepathy, in all honesty you weren't sure, but they seemed to be able to communicate through just words with each other. At times it was annoying and at other times it was convenient for all three of you. Such as now, where you were so focused on your work you didn't even notice.

Faintly, you register Wanda and Natasha bustling about, plating food for themselves and one for you. The words on the document float off the screen ever so slightly and you sigh, shaking your head to clear your sight before starting again.

A plate of food is slide in front of you, chicken coated in an orange sauce that smells heavenly, but you ignore it. After a moment your laptop is snatched away from you.

"Hey!" you protest, snapping your head up and immediately curling in on yourself when you notice Natasha's firm look, daring you to say more. Your next words are mumbled, "Sorry."

She rolls her eyes fondly but jerks her head towards your plate as she sets your laptop on the counter, "Eat."

Wanda slides into the seat next to you, her hand coming to rest on your thigh and rub slow circles as you eat. It's becoming increasingly harder to focus and you can feel your head getting foggy, slipping into a familiar space. The two talk casually through the course of the meal, but your brain keeps switching between shutting down and drifting towards the impending homework assignments.

Shoveling another spoonful of food into your mouth, flavor bursting across your tastebuds and burning the back of your throat slightly. Only half your plate is gone when you stand from the table, carrying it to the sink and gently dumping the rest of the food into the trash. You can feel Wanda's eyes on your back as you pick your laptop, hardly looking at them, and plopping down on the couch.

The essay is waiting for you, daunting as ever and you almost give up and decide to watch a movie. But regardless, it was due tonight, and you only have about half of it done. The scrapping of chairs and the running water as the dishes clink together fill your ears as you hear Wanda and Natasha clean up.

A part of you feels bad for not helping. Glancing back, your heart clenches as you see the two engrossed in domestic bliss, smiling and laughing as they clean up. You swallowed thickly and forced your head to turn away, force your eyes to stop narrowing in on Natash's arms, her ass, her bright smile and Wanda's nose, the way her nose scrunched when she smiled, and her waist.

Eventually you hear the sink shut off, the chatter slow down, and the soft thump of footsteps. You exhale sharply as your train of thought vanishes, brows furrowing in annoyance and nose scrunching. The couch dips under an added weight and Natasha's arm drapes itself over your shoulders.

"What are you working on?" Her voice is a husky whisper that sends shivers. Natasha leans in close, her breath tickling the skin of your ear.

"An essay," you mumble, fingers faltering as her tongue pokes out to trace the shell of your ear. Breath hitching, you turn your head away, a ridiculously hard task, and scooch over. Your girlfriend huffed with both surprise and annoyance.

Wanda entered the living room with two wine glasses, passing one to Natahsa, "Let her work, Natalia."

You didn't notice it then, but there was a light smile on her face and an almost teasing lilt to her voice. Eyes drifting you notice the wine glasses Wanda brought and you perk up a little.

"Do I get one?" you ask hopefully, meeting Wanda's eyes. The auburn-haired woman sits down onto the armchair, her legs folding beneath her elegantly. She raised an eyebrow, face the perfect imitation of unimpressed.

"Are you working on an essay?" At your nod, she smiles sharply, "Then, no, you do not."

You pout, lower lip jutting out and eyes shining with childish desire, but neither phases Wanda. It never did. It was always Natasha who folded first, but even as you turn your gaze towards her, she merely takes a dainty sip of her wine. Puffing air out your mouth you return to your computer.

Time seems to drag on impossibly slow and you can hear the other two women sitting in silence, merely sipping their drinks. You sneak a glance at Natasha. Her thumb is pressed into the spine of a book as she flips the pages every now and then. Stray tresses of hair frame her sharp face, her emerald eyes focused on the book. A worn hoodie hides the curve of her neck, but you can still picture it and how soft it would be between your lips.

A heat curls in your stomach, low and hardly noticeable, and you force yourself to look away before you can get too distracted. You can feel your eyelids grow heavy despite the fire that sparks in your veins. The movement of your fingers grows slower, typing sluggishly along the keyboard.

You aren't sure how long it is before your computer is snatched away from you again. Wanda snaps it shut, folding it under arm with an unamused look.

"Does this mean I can have wine now?" You quip sheepishly, giving her a cheeky smile.

Wanda sighs and her hand runs over your hair lovingly, "No, it means it's time for a bath and bed."

You lean into her touch, eyes fluttering for a moment before you pull back with a slight pout. You can't go to bed now, you still have to finish the essay, but Wanda doesn't look like she'll budge. Eyes flickering to towards Natasha for help, the other woman is only focused on her book and sipping wine.

"I need to finish my essay."

"Not tonight," Wanda's tone softens and she cups your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eyes, "Sweetheart you have bags under your eyes, and I can see how exhausted you are. C'mon, we'll go take a warm bath and Natalie will make some hot cocoa after she finishes up, hm?"

Natasha hums absently to show she acknowledged the fact, yet you remain stubbornly set on the fact you need to finish your essay. Exhaling slowly at your stubborn expression, Wanda sets your laptop down on the table before sliding into your lap. Your breath hitches at the unusual position and your hands hover by her hips awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" you whisper, eyes flicking to her chest, the small amount of cleavage revealed before back to her face. There's a small smile on her pale lips, eyes shining in amusement. Her hands trail up your sides, stopping when she reaches your shoulders and Wanda leans in close.

Instead of responding verbally she ducks her head, breath warm on the skin of your neck, and her lips dance teasingly over your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath through your nose, thighs pressing together, and hands coming to rest on her waist.

She plants a soft kiss on your collarbone, then a bit higher to your jugular, and finally to your jaw. Raising her head her lips meet yours and you let your eyes fall shut. It's soft and tender, filled with love and devotion, not the usual violent clash of teeth and tongue.

When she pulls away her nail traces the side of your face, "You can be a good girl for mommy, right? Take a bath and get ready for bed?" All it takes is those words to have you nodding like a lovesick puppy. Her smile widens and she taps your nose, "Good girl."

Wanda slips off your lap and onto her feet, offering you her slender hand. You take it, letting her pull you to your feet and guide you through the luxurious house and to the room upstairs. It smells of lavender up here, a contrast to the distinct peppermint downstairs, and the bathroom is cooler than the rest of the house.

Releasing your hand, Wanda starts the bathtub, letting warm water fill the container. Steam starts to rise into the air, already fogging up the mirrors and heating the room. She turns back towards you, smile soft and eyes kind. She works delicately, slowly even, to undress you.

"Let Mommy help you," she murmurs when you try to protest, "You've been a big girl for long enough."

Her words have you melting as your arms raise to allow her to tug the shirt over your head. With familiar ease she reaches around to unclasp your bra, letting it fall on top of your shirt, and then she's undoing the button to your jeans. Graceful fingers dip beneath your panties, and she goes dangerously close to your dripping slit just to tease before pulling your panties down.

By the time she's undressed you, the tub is filled with warm water. Wanda peels off her own clothes next, much swifter than she had with you. The older woman steps into the bath, sinking into the water with a sigh, and gesturing to the space in front of her.

It doesn't take words for you to settle between her spread thighs, leaning back against her bare breasts. The warm water envelops you like a comforting embrace, wrapping around you just like Wanda's arm as she begins to dance her fingers up your side.

You shiver. One of her hands leaves your skin to pump some shampoo and her lathers it onto your scalp. You relax into the sensation, leaning even further back and letting her massage your scalp and play with your hair. A cup of warm water is dumped over your head, and you close your eyes to keep the soapy water out.

Next is conditioner, gently applied like the shampoo. Wanda takes her time, pouring love and care into her movements and small actions. After she rinses out the condition with a few dumps of water over your head, she presses a kiss to your neck.

She doesn't stop there, trailing them from your jaw to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. One of her hands swipes under your breast, teasing, and you whimper slightly.

"Let Mommy take care of you," she breathes in your ear, biting onto your earlobe.

A small whine of agreement passes your lips as her other hand trails down your stomach and settles between your thighs. Two of her fingers part your folds before dipping in, circling around your clit slowly. You let out a shuddering thigh, your head falling back.

Her touch is featherlight, not nearly enough to get off on, but you can still feel your body heating and you know it's not from the bath. Lips still dancing along your neck, she tweaks your nipple between her fingers, rolling and pinching it.

"Wanda," you whisper, voice filled with desire and need.

She chuckles softly against your neck and slips a single finger into your heat, your walls clenching around the digit and sucking her in greedily, "That's not my name, дорогой."

"Mommy," leaves your lips in a breathless plea, her thumb rubbing your clit slowly. All her touches are maddeningly slow, not enough to settle the ache between your thighs and in the pit of your stomach.

"Good girl," she praises and as a reward her pace picks up. The hand on your breast plucks at your nipple until it’s hard and straining in her touch. She switches to its twin, lathering it with the same attention while her fingers work down below.

She adds a second finger to the first, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside of you. A shaky moan falls from your lips as you lean on her shoulder, eyes falling shut. Wanda takes advantage of your exposed neck, biting and sucking love marks onto it, her lips not leaving a single spot untouched.

Her thumb presses against your clit, the little nub pulsing and throbbing with need. Scissoring her fingers, Wanda bites on that sensitive spot just below your ear, smoothing the sting with her tongue. She tweaks your nipple as she thrusts her fingers up harshly.

You gasp, the sound turning into a moan, back arching and walls fluttering around her digits. The need to come builds in your stomach rapidly and you tense up, thighs beginning to shake. Wanda's hair tickles your shoulder as she bites your shoulder, her lips sucking on the mark to leave a hickey.

The bath water is growing cold, but that does nothing to deter the heat that flows freely through your body. Wanda splits her fingers inside your walls, stretching you open for her and her thumb presses down harshly. Whimpering, you claw at the edges of the tub, the smooth surface providing little traction.

Lips parting, you pant slightly, "Mommy- 'm gonna cum, please."

She stretches your cunt out, pulling at your nipple as she kiss your neck. The sensations flow through you like water through a pipe, overwhelming all your senses. All you can smell is her cinnamon perfume and body wash. All you can feel is her fingers, spreading you open and playing with you. Her breath is light in your ear, hot and laced with desire as she speaks.

"Go ahead."

With a final curl of her fingers and squeeze of your breast, pure unadulterated pleasure courses through you. Your mouth parts in a silent scream, back arching and toes curling beneath the water. Wanda works you down from your high, keeping her fingers lazily pumping in and out of your cunt, while she presses soft kisses to your neck.

"Such a good girl," she praises, tilting your head to kiss your lips, "Let's get you dried up hm?"

You nod hazily, eyes glazed over and brain foggy. The sight makes Wanda smile. She slips out of the bathtub first, wrapping a towel around her frame before pulling the plug and helping you out. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself before you're wrapped in a cozy towel.

"Go see Daddy," she instructs, words gentle, "She'll get you dressed."

There aren’t many thoughts in your head anymore as you exit the bathroom, shuffling up to Natahsa who wraps your arms around you, not caring that you're still wet. She kisses the top of your head before pulling back.

Natasha dries you off with meticulous care, rubbing the fluffy towel up and down your body with soft words of praise and love. She bunches it up in her hands and drapes it over your head, ruffling your hair as she dries it, drawing a small giggle from you.

Kissing your nose, Natasha stops her fluffy assault on your head and instead snags an over-sized t-shirt from the bed that smells distinctly vanilla, a clear indication it was her. Wanda emerges from the bathroom, hair damp and wearing a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt.

When you go to move over to her, she meets you halfway, wrapping her arms around you just like Natasha had, "Sleepy time, hm?"

You nod into her neck, yawning sleepily. Words are practically impossible to form right now, so you don't speak, instead letting Wanda guide you to the bed and under the sheets. Curling into her, you feel Natasha settle next to you, her arm draping over your waist.

Humming in contentment, Wanda's fingers begin to card through your hair softly, undoing the tangles and knots from the bath. Natasha's breathing grows heavy quickly and you feel your eyelids falling shut. As Wanda begins to hum a song softly, you let sleep claim you.

[backinmyphase]

Not your letter

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wouldn't call himself a very anxious man. But now as he hears cries every night, he can't help but worry- about his darling wife.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3300 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups

I'm sooo tired, but I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy you all seem so sincerely to enjoy it. Like always your comments make my day <333

Gojo Satoru liked spending money far too much.

After the last few days, this became clear very quickly. Yes, he was rich. But the way things were going this week, probably not for long.

He probably wouldn't even read every book that was on the bedside table.

Every morning he was awake before you and explored the town the two of you visited. When you were awake he took you out of the little charming hotel and showed you what he discovered.

You wouldn't see any problem in it if he didn't always had his credit card ready, the moment you looked at something.

And the two of you didn't need that many souvenirs either. But at the same time, it was hard for you to tell him not to use his money.

And now, too. As you walked through the small village. You knew what was coming when you passed a small café.

His eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses and a smile stole itself onto his face.

"Would you fancy something sweet?"

Not really. But he smiled in a way that made you feel sorry for taking the wind out of his sails.

So naturally, you left with three bags of sweet pastries.

Your mother would wring your neck. You could hear her lessons. 'You should bake something for your husband instead of letting him buy it!

"Don't you want something?"

Satoru looked at you with a bitten cupcake in his hand and some icing on his cheek. At the same time, he held out a new cupcake to you.

Of course, you didn't just take it because of his smile.

"Thank you." carefully you took a bite, trying to not look messy while you eat.

As you looked over to Satoru, you saw how he swallowed the rest of the cupcake in one go. You couldn't help but smile as you saw him chew way too much at the same time.

"Satoru, you have no manners." It was refreshing.

He gasped. "Am I now not even allowed to eat normally in front of my wife? What has the world come to?" Dramatically he held onto his chest.

His eyes shut and head tilted a bit back, he expressed his 'hurt' so playfully you couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh Satoru, if that's how you eat normally, I'm really concerned for your stomach."

As you saw how shooked he looked at you, you regretted saying anything. But then he grinned at you and leaned a bit forward.

"Did I just see my darling wife laugh?"

"It's not like I never laugh." you muttered as you started to eat again, hiding your embarrassment behind the pink, sprinkled, icing of the cupcake.

"Well, never before in front of me."

"Nonsense." you shook your head, while making sure your face was clean.

"It's true." he took another cupcake. "You should do it more."

The warmth that shot into your face was now a regular visitor. Something had changed. His presence made you jumpy, your heart was suddenly working overtime.

And your head. Oh, your head.

The thoughts that crept into it became more and more jumbled. Every time your looks crossed paths you couldn't help but spiral in a trail of thoughts, that made you feel dizzy.

You were truly sick. But it didn't feel bad.

A scream shattered the relaxed atmosphere. Your stomach turned when you saw a woman with a baby behind Satoru.

The baby was thrashing around, his voice continuing to tear the air and his cheeks red from the water running down.

The baby clutched the woman's hand, crying desperately.

"Are you okay?"

You quickly turned your head away to hide the rising panic. "Yes, I'm just tired."

His look spoke volumes. Always being tired was probably not the best sign.

"Then let's go back." He stood up, the food tucked away carefully.

"It's alright. It's not too bad."

He shook his head. "You look like I'm forcing you to go out everytime. I don't want that."

Defeated, you also stood up slowly and trotted behind him. You really wanted to enjoy your trip away, and get to know Satoru. But the words of the higher-ups were like a pest, constantly reminding you that your duty wasn't getting to know him.

It was having a heir.

"I'm sorry." your voice was hoarse, embarrassingly quiet. "I'm always in the way."

He laughed, while slowing down, to adjust to your speed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm always breaking of our time." you shook your head. "We barely get to do something."

"Oh please." he chuckled. "We have still plenty of time. We are just three days away. And it's not a problem, I still get to know you."

He looked at you again, his sunglasses barely covering his skylike eyes. "And I know." He smiled at you. "That you are not sleeping very well. Or that you are very exhausted. Maybe both."

"Am I right?"

He was. You were sleeping terrible. Even though the reading helped with sleeping in, the nightmares didn't disappear.

The constant thoughts about your 'duties' were kept alive through them. You wished you could just forget all of these things. Satoru seemed like he could.

You just shrugged.

"Just try to sleep when we are back." Slowly, very hesitant, did his hand engulf yours. His hand was warm. So, so warm.

"I have planned something for later. And I want you to be able to enjoy it."

You were wrong. Gojo Satoru didn't like spending money too much. He just enjoyed spoiling you far too much.

~~

"So how do you like your little 'rebellion'?"

The dark surrounding you, engulfed your mother almost whole as she sat there in her chair. Her arms crossed like chains, heavy, ready to arrest you.

"It's not like that-"

"Yeah, yeah." she waved her hand, wiping your words away. "That's what they always say."

Her leg twitched, but her face remained a mask. She sat unimpressed on her throne, looking at you like you stole candy. "How did you imagine all of this?"

She crossed her legs, it's twitching being held down like a child. "What did you think will happen after all of this?"

You looked at her, your mouth thin as a line. Your tongue felt like it was chained down. Heavy, like a boulder.

"Perhaps…" She tilted her head. "Running away together?"

'Stop.' you wanted to say, no scream. 'Stop speaking.'

"Maybe a romance where he takes you in his arms? Just leaving jujutsu society together behind?"

Your body felt light and so so heavy at the same time. Dizziness overtook you mind, making your vision blurry.

"No Clans and no responsibilities. Like Paris and Helen." she laughed loudly, her voice made you shiver.

"That would never happen. You know that. You are no Helen. Helen was a beautiful, desired and foolish woman. She didn't consider her people."

She stood up, while you lost your balance, she was suddenly towering above you, looking down with this well-known expression.

"And Gojo is no Paris. As if he would start a war for you. This boy has no courage. That's just selfish to wish." she shook her head again.

"Stop mother." your throat was burning. "This is pointless. Satoru is not like that. Satoru-"

Her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pierce her prey. "I'm just reminding you to not do something foolish. And after your recent behavior that seems rather needed."

Your hands were shaking, sweating. Your breath was heavy and your body seemed paralyzed. You felt like a kid again. Crawling to your mother crying.

'I don't want to marry someone I don't know!' you hiccuped, chocking on your own tears a bit. 'I don't want-'

You still felt the burning sting on your cheek. Still felt her unforgiving stare as she looked at you.

'You don't have to want. You have to fulfill your duty. And that's bringing connections to your clan.' she didn't scream. No she was in control of herself what made it so much worse.

"So stop whining."

You only saw darkness. Your body jolted uncontrollably, it felt like being pushed down into the darkness.

Like you were dying.

"Enjoy your time. And use it." She waved and-

Your consciousness came crawling back, while you were being shaken awake. You felt cold, unbearable so. The sweat on you rather sticky.

It was a nightmare.

"Everything is alright."

You felt heavy, eyes fighting to open. But in the end they lost. You were so tired. Every ounce of sleep was a fight with your conscience. It was almost… Unnatural.

Warm arms embraced you, pulling your limp, cold, and heavy feeling body towards their warmth.

"I'm here now."

You knew it was him. It was the only logical explanation. But it felt so surreal. Feeling his strength and reassurance so close.

His grip on you was not forceful. No, it was so soft you couldn't help but start slipping into unconsciousness again.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. It just felt right.

~~

"How late is it?" you paced through the room, while Satoru layed lazily in the bed, yawning.

"Don't know. It's not that important." as he sat up his silver white, no snow white hair was sticking up in all directions. It was so messy, it was endearing. Which is obviously just a fact-

"I thought you had something planned? Why didn't you wake me up?" you gathered new things to wear, since you obviously had to take a shower.

"You were sleeping so peaceful." he shook his head like it was obvious. "That was the first time I saw you smile in your sleep."

You stop for a second, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. "You watch me sleep?" you joked, while you pretended to look for something in your suitcase.

"No! I-, that's not what I-, I don't…" he stopped and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. It felt so crazy to have him stutter. You looked at him over your shoulder, hoping to have cooled down your face.

As he saw you holding in a laughter, his panicked look fell.

"Oh, ha ha." he raised an eyebrow.

"What did you plan? Can we still do it?" You didn't want to cancel his plans. Not Again. Not because of you.

He scratched his the back of his neck while thinking a bit. "Do you know the time?"

"It's…" you search for the clock in the bath. "8:46 PM? How long was I out??"

He chuckled while murmuring something to himself. You wanted to ask but also didn't.

"Well it is a bit late. Don't know if you even want to-"

A long, loud growl from your stomach interrupted him. Silence set in while he was just looking at you. The warmth in your face returning.

And then he laughed. "Well I guess that answers my question. Can't let my sweet wife starve."

"Sure, Satoru." you muttered as you chuckled a bit too. "Because you are of course not hungry at all after being here the whole day."

He grinned crookedly, while pulling the blanket away and also standing up. "Let's just make ourselves ready and then go."

You nodded and gathered what you found for yourself. Standing up from the ground and gripping the door of the bath, you stopped as he spoke again.

"But if it's too much please say so right away. I don't want you to suffer through anything."

Hands sweating again, you smiled at him. "I will." Then you got ready.

~

Satoru was nervous as fuck.

It still felt so unreal. Having you in his arms, you holding so desperately onto him, but slowly over time relaxing.

You cried. During your sleep.

It wasn't a one time thing. You cried almost every night. It was very silent, almost not audible, but he could hear it.

And see it.

He wanted to help you, but didn't know if he overstepped a silent boundary. A boundary so carefully layed out the last days.

But today was different. You spoke. Saying something like 'Stop mother'.

And you whispered his name.

He didn't know why. Didn't know if you had a nightmare where he was a part of, but he felt like he had to help you. Like you called for him.

He didn't watch you sleep. He listened to you sleep. To your cries.

~

"Where are we going?" you looked around. This was not a street you two had explored before and it was dark enough that you couldn't recognize even if you did know it.

"It's a surprise. Guess you have to wait." he grinned as he went sternly, while still making sure you two were going next to each other.

"You are so unfair sometimes." you shook your head. "Can't believe I married you."

"Oh please." he grinned back at you, playing into your dramatics. "As if you don't love surprises."

"Oh, Satoru." you deadpanned at him. "I hate them."

For two seconds you just stopped and looked at each other. But then you started laughing at his nervous expression.

"I'm joking, sorry. But you should have seen your face!"

He chuckled lightly, while looking around. Then he grinned back at you. "Well I hope you were joking, because here it is!"

You looked around but only saw a fancy restaurant. After looking for any small places you usually had take out, it dawned on you that the restaurant was the place he wanted to go.

"Oh Satoru…" you looked at the old, but very preserved, Restaurant in front of you. The letters on top of it almost shy, not being big and very eye catching, but very elegant. It spelled Sato's Kitchen.

"If you don't like it, we can always go back-"

"It's not like I don't like it!" you interrupted him, before he could make false conclusions. "It's just… This was very expensive, was it not?"

"Why talk about money? Let's just have a nice evening." he smiled and you knew it was expensive. Defeated you sighed.

"Okay. But you have to stop spending so much money-"

"Alright, let's go!"

He just took your hand and pulled you softly behind him.

~

It was very late. So it wasn't so surprising that your reservation was already long gone. But as you stood there behind Saturo while he tried to get a table for you, you felt bad.

It was almost laughable how naiv you were.

Dragging him out at these hours just to be told that they didn't have any tables left and we should come back tomorrow.

"Is there really no way-"

"I'm sorry good sir, but we are out. We can rearrange your reservation for tomorrow."

They were very kind for that. But you still felt bad.

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it Satoru?"

He nodded, obviously a bit frustrated as he gave his information to make the reservation or furthermore rearrange it.

"Yeah, that's alright." he muttered to the waiter. After making sure everything was alright, yoi two left shortly.

It was a bit embarrassing. Showing up almost an hour and half late at such a desired restaurant. Another reason you felt bad.

"I'm so so-"

"Well we can still do it tomorrow." Satoru smiled. Smiled so softly at you that you felt like crying. It made you feel so stupid, so unstable.

"Yeah." you almost chocked at the word.

He started going again, silently trying to get you to walk ahain. Silently walking beside him, you tried to find the light words you just had said so easily. But there were none.

"Well we can still have take out." he walked closer than before. Not too close, just a bit closer. "If that's alright for you?"

You chuckle a bit, trying to relax. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

The night was beautiful. The moon was already high up and you could see countless of stars here. In Tokyo you could only rarely see the stars. It was comforting.

The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore. Maybe you two did start to get to know each other in a way. Even though Satoru was still a mystery to you most of the time.

It just was comfortable as a whole.

Going together to your favorite ramen shop. Eating in silence and slowly walking back.

It must be really late. But Satoru did bring the bag of the sweet pastries. And as you were walking back to your hotel, he did eat from them.

You couldn't help but watch him. It was cute really. How he enjoyed it so much. And a small smile made it's way onto your face.

"Did you Always like sweets this much?"

Satoru looks at you and thinks. A cupcake still in his mouth, he tries chewing faster to give you your answer.

"Well, I think I did." he coughs as his mouth was empty. "When I was a kid I wasn't allowed to eat anything sweet or unhealthy because of those obsessive higher ups. Said it would make my powers weaker, to keep me away from them."

He took another big bite after saying that and smiled at you as he chewed.

"Well," he was grinning like an idiot after he swallowed. "After I started eating sweets I didn't get weaker. In fact quite the opposite!" He laughed.

You admired him, as he took another bite. That he could just call them obsessive and wipe it away. You wished you could not care.

And as he took his last bite, you looked at the remaining cupcakes and wondered. Could you try making them for him? Would he like them?

It was too late to think anymore, after you got home you just got ready for bed and layed down while Satoru was in the bathroom.

But as you wanted to close your eyes, this uneasiness from before seemed like it was back again. You began to feel cold and wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket.

Satoru came out of the bathroom looking at you, like he was fighting with himself.

And in a moment of weakness and exhaustion you let yourself say the words you normally would only think.

"Do you want to sleep in the bed?"

He just looked at you, the darkness around you made it hard to see his expression. Also your vision started to get blurry because of your tiredness.

"If you don't mind.".

You yawned as your eyes fell close. "You helped…" you mumbled and didn't fight your exhaustion anymore.

And as you felt his warm arms around you, again you couldn't help but smile.

~

Satoru didn't want to wake you up, but he also wanted to do his daily routine round to get you and himself breakfast. Tough decision.

Before all of this he would have never gotten up earlier than he had too. But here with you it was different. So so different.

And he didn't want to let you go. But in the end he did get up and got ready to leave for his round.

As he went down the stairs, Hina's Grandma smiled at him like every morning.

"Good morning, Mr. Gojo. On your way again?"

He laughed a bit and nodded. It was part of the routine to talk to her a bit, as she was a lovely person and knew the place well.

"Well a two letters arrived today. Both adressed at Mrs. Gojo. So I thought I could give them to you for later."

She handed him the two envelopes with a smile.

He didn't mean to sneak into your business or anything like that. But he couldn't help but feel uneasy almost angry when he saw the names of the senders.

One was from the higher ups. And one from your mother.

And he felt cold as he wondered why they would only write you.

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[thewitchblue]

"How did you never notice I was flirting with you?"

You asked Tim with a laugh. You were remembering the time you finally managed to snag Tim's romantic interest. He sheepishly replied,

“You are very hard to read."

You shook your head with a smile on your face. For one of the greatest detectives on the planet? You'd think he would have gotten the hint. You had been so amused at his obliviousness that you started a game to see how far you can push it until Tim finally gets the hint. The day that broke him was a rather memorable one.

It was a warm, sunny day. You were both at an arcade, winning far too many prizes as you both cheated the obviously busted system. You were walking by a ring toss game when suddenly a stuffed animal caught your attention. You pulled Tim's shirt and pointed before saying confidently,

"Oh, look, love! I'm so winning this bear."

You (fake) tried, tried, and tried, and— Tim decided to step in. He won the teddy bear and handed it to you with a blush that rivals his Red Robin costume. You hugged the bear before pulling him into a deep kiss.

Tim's noise of surprise was swallowed by your lips. He had no idea what to do. Do friends kiss like this? He has weird superhero friends with trauma involving touch and affection, but you are... well, you. His best friend, who he's revealed his soul to.

You took his hand and tugged him into a secluded corner. You have begun to think you will have to have sex with him before he gets the hint. His thoughts were jumbled, and his head was fuzzy.

Why are you still kissing him? The bear surely isn't worth this much of a reaction. You tangled your fingers through his hair and lightly tugged on the messy strands. You let out a pleased hum when he gasped softly.

He was a blushing mess with no idea what to do. Where does he put his hands? He settled to place them around your waist. He whimpered when you sucked his bottom lip lightly and softly bit it.

You pulled away from him with a smirk. He looked like he didn't know what to do or what was really happening between you both. You took a moment to admire his bruised lips smugly. You did that. Maybe Tim will finally get a clue.

Tim knew his lips were bruised, and there would be a storm waiting for him at home, but he couldn't find himself to care past his dazed state.

You pushed yourself into his strong embrace with a teasing grin. His arms seemed to subconsciously pull you closer, but they were slack in shock. His thoughts were scrambled.

You chuckled at his dazed expression. His hands seem to move on their own as he pawed at your hips helplessly. He wants another kiss, but his brain is still processing the first one. It wasn't the first time you kissed him, but it was the first time you kissed him this intensely. You had kissed him like the world was ending, and he was your last solace on the planet.

You obliged his desire to be kissed again happily. You kissed him lazily this time. He needed to process the situation, but his body seemed to need your lips on his own to process anything. He shuddered as you held him in your steady embrace. He felt like he was falling apart and being remoulded.

He chased your lips when you pulled away with a small whine falling from his lips. You giggled at him. He was drunk on your lips. You somehow found your voice as you said,

"Thanks, my love. I think it's time we go home."

Tim gulped. Go home? With you? The one who just kissed the soul out of him? You're going to kill him. He sucked in a deep breath.

"Sunshine, we're going to have to talk about that kiss."

You smiled. Finally! Your game might be ending! It only took making out with him at a circus of all places.

Present day, Tim groaned into your neck as you cuddled with him on the living room couch in the manor.

"It was two years ago, sunshine."

You smirked. You remember the week it took for the bruising on their lips to go away. Dick was on your case about safe sex, which you had to pretend you didn't just have sex less than five hours before the talk.

Tim was mortified the whole time. Condoms aren't nearly as complicated as people make them out to be. Why must he bring out the banana? Where did he even get the banana? The kitchen doesn't have any.

Tim was a blushing mess. The lecture lasted at least an hour, and he even gave out homework like he had it prepared for this day. He wished you weren't laughing at his reactions.

The family cheered on your relationship happily regardless of the... unconventional way you got together. Jason had said,

"Finally! I was worried I was going to walk in on king clueless fucking his 'best friend.'"

Jason fake gagged while Steph elbowed his ribs. You laughed and dragged Tim closer to you.

"It took at least four months of me shamelessly flirting to win him over."

Tim pouted until you gave him an apology kiss. Your kisses always made his head fuzzy. You could make him do anything with kisses. Literally anything. He wouldn't hesitate either. He'd be so dazed that he wouldn't even notice.

You laughed when he picked you up to cuddle you in his room. He needs his cuddling time.

"So needy, my love."

You murmured in his ear. He blushed at the seductive tone you took and barely hid a whine. You kissed him slowly as he struggled to open the door.

Jason whacked the back of his head as he passed by but opened the door for the struggling Tim with an eye roll and a dramatic sigh.

Yeah, yeah, get your disgusting cuddling session going. He shuts the door behind the now kissing couple far too aggressively for Tim's liking, but who really cares? He has you in his arms, and that's all that matters.

[akanemnon]

I was gonna write this earlier in the week but forgot, and now I'm worried the asks are gonna close before I can say it. So I'm writing this at 10:00 pm lol.

Anyways, I just wanted to say that your writing in this comic is legitimately so good. It's like professional book writing. I'm not sure how to describe it exactly, but it's GOOD. The plot is so put together, and the writing is so descriptive. Some things that annoy me in writing it when they say something straight up, but you don't do that. Something is implied, but not just plain old said. It leaves a very professional quirk to it. Also not to mention you didn't even have a script to begin with? Like you made the first few strips make sense with the script you have now even though you didn't have one at the time.

I'm exhausted so I'm not sure if this makes sense, I'm kinda just writing whatever comes to mind. So it's all jumbled compliments. But I hope you're getting some of what I'm saying.

Hey, thank you, anon!

This is legit a very nice compliment! I try my best to write this comic and these characters as believable as possible. And one of these ways is not to spoon-feed the reader with information. Mainly because I respect your intelligence, and it would also VERY unnatural for the characters to talk like that. There are certain things you wouldn't just say as a normal person. I write how these characters would talk and interact with one another. And that is oftentimes messy. Because that's human. My main priority is for the characters to feel like actual people. Even though we are dealing with two very strange humans, a ghost child, a couple of goats and a purple reptile. It wasn't the easiest to string the first "scriptless" comics into the story and make them fit into the plot. There are some things I would've done differently nowadays. But that's hidsight for you.

Either way, thank you for your kind words, anon! Despite your tiredness, the meaning absolutely was not lost on me. (Also hope you got some sleep)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (2 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, briefly implied future physical injury, protective / possessive Soap, hand job, unprotected piv

Word Count: 1.9k

You and Soap might no longer be together, but he is your "safe space", and you need to vent. While raging over the phone about your boyfriend, Soap arrives at your door.

Imagines & What If Series

ao3 // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend

The anger and hurt in your voice are the only fuel John needs.

You have no idea that he is already on his way to you, that he hooked your phone call up to his helmet. That, even now, John is on his sportbike zooming down roads and weaving around cars in an effort to get to you.

There is a fire under his skin. It burns away all other concerns. Every word you speak is a blown furnace, the destruction mounting until each utterance infuriates him further. This “boyfriend” of yours, the one you started seeing after the two of you broke up, deserves a fucking sharp punch to the jaw. He deserves missing teeth and broken bones.

Men like him aren’t men at all. They’re rubbish, only valuing women as objects, seeing them as their housekeeper and not their partner.

In his ear, you’re hardly taking a breath. Your words are a stream of consciousness, each word angrily pushing into the other until it’s a jumbled mess. John listens to it all, using that as motivation to get to you. It’s doesn’t fucking matter that you’re not his anymore.

John still cares. He still loves you. The need to protect and defend you is innate. One teary-laced word was enough for him to drop everything and head in your direction. Doesn’t matter that you and he ended things a bit messy. It was simply complicated. The two of you needed to work a few things out but broke it off because that was the easy thing to do.

He regrets that. He regrets not fighting. Not getting his shit together.

The engine revs, and John turns onto your street, almost throwing himself off his bike to get to your front door. In one hand he’s holding his helmet. In the other, he’s holding his phone, the device pressed to his ear as you keep talking. Reaching out, he pounds on the door.

You immediately pause on the other side of the phone. “There’s someone at my door,” you murmur, voice slightly distant.

“I know,” he replies. “It’s me.”

Silence on the other end. But then he hears it—the familiar click of a lock. Following that is your front door opening, revealing you.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other. Your momentary shock slips, dipping into confusion.

“What are you—” you begin but promptly stop as John pushes past you and into the flat.

“Is that fucker here?” John strides into the kitchen, placing his helmet down on the counter before ending the phone call and slipping the device into his back pocket.

“John.”

He glances down the hallway and then turns to you. “Is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s not here.”

John’s chest heaves with relief, some of the tension receding.

“John,” you repeat, the concern in your voice enough to smother some of that fire burning beneath his ribcage.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, approaching.

His gaze roams up and down your body, searching for signs of injury. There is none, at least not that he can see. That doesn’t mean there aren’t marks somewhere hiding beneath the clothes. The very thought fans the flames, charging John’s nerves until they crackle like lightening.

“No, Johnny. I’m fine.”

Johnny.

Only two people are allowed to call him that and one of them is standing right in front of him. The use of it, the way it falls from your lips, is enough to slightly quiet the anger. He sighs, expelling some of that smoky frustration. But then his gaze flicks to a spot just over your shoulder, and a new feeling emerges.

There are fist-sized holes in the wall. Four of them. Much too large to be your hands.

“What the fuck are those?” John’s voice drops as he nods toward them.

The sadness that forms on your features nearly rips his lungs from his body. John has never seen you like this. Never this defeated.

“They happened after,” you answer.

“After what?”

“The argument.”

You and John have had your fair share of arguments, but he’s never punched a wall. He’s never thrown anything or threatened you.

Never. Fucking never.

No. Fuck this guy.

“You’re breaking up with him.”

“What?” you ask, flustered by his sudden outburst.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. To kiss your lips. To be in your presence.”

You deserve so much more than whatever this fucker is providing. Which is apparently nothing served alongside fist-sized gapping wounds in the plaster.

Your mouth opens like you’re about to reject the idea, but it’s not a suggestion. You are breaking up with him. You will leave him even if that means John doesn’t get to have you. That’s fine. That’s okay. He can live with that. What he can’t live with is knowing you’re with someone who treats you like rubbish.

He needs to get this off his chest, to make you understand that you are entitled to more.

“I listened the whole way here and you know what I heard?” He pauses and notices the slight quiver in your bottom lip. “That you’re unhappy. Have been for some time.”

You blink and fresh tears form there. John has to bite back the instinct to kiss them away. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

He licks his lips, a large sigh leaving him as he points over your shoulder. “He treats you poorly.” John’s hand slices through the air. “Walks all over you. Doesn’t answer you for hours and then gets angry with you when he finally makes contact.”

As John talks, even he can hear his voice thickening. This always happens when he gets worked up, and you’ve always playfully teased him about it.

“He’s a fucking waste of space.”

“John—”

“Break it off. And—fuck. If you can’t face him, then let me do it.” He places his hand on his chest. “Allow me to defend you.”

Your features soften and John wants to drink it in, to remember the way you’re currently looking at him. He remembers this side of you, the one that easily pierces him like a needle breaks skin. A look like this will put John on his knees if you ask him to.

“Johnny.”

He’s done. Gone. There is no coming back from this. Whenever you say his name like that, you’re either annoyed with him, wanting him to listen, or you’re just about ready to kiss him. It momentarily rips away all the thoughts in his head, leaving him temporarily mute before his brain can catch up again.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping the sides of your face. “Get rid of him. I—I know you don’t want me but fucking hell. Don’t pick him. Don’t—”

John is silenced.

Not by your words leaving your mouth but from your lips pressing to his. It startles him—shocks him that you’re kissing him. Leaning into him. John responds, kisses you back, his tongue exploding with the remembrance of your taste.

But you’re still not his. You belong to someone else still and this isn’t right, no matter how much he fucking hates it.

“Stop, love,” he murmurs, pushing on your shoulders.

John loathes telling you to stop. To move away from him. Doing so is like fish hooks caught in the skin. He wants to reel you right back in, to taste your lips again, and fall into memory.

“I ended it,” you reply softly. “It’s over. That’s why there are holes in the wall.”

John pauses, his gaze growing serious. “What?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t like that I wanted him to leave. That I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Your fingers dig into the back of John’s neck and that one touch is enough to dissolve his resolve about not kissing you into dust.

He closes the distance, and you welcome him in, opening beautifully.

“Am I your rebound?” he teasingly asks between kisses.

You laugh against his lips and kiss him again. “Why did I ever leave you?” Your question is a sad murmur tinged with a regret that leaches off your words and floods into his heart.

“Because I was an asshole.” He believes these words completely but you’re shaking your head.

“No,” you reply. “You weren’t. Never that.”

The kisses between you, which at first were soft, quickly develop into deeper passion, twining like a spool of thread around a bobbin. John drags you against him, tasting over and over until you are imprinted on his memory.

Your arms drape over the back of his neck to pull him even closer, and John snaps. That gentle resolve is gone. He needs you.

Reaching down to cup your ass, John lifts you off the ground until your legs naturally wrap around his waist. He knows where the bedroom is but that’s too fucking far. The desire writhing between and around his bones is a blood-beast. A feral thing that calls out for your skin against his.

Setting you down on the counter, John shoves his helmet out of the way. You’re already reaching for him, undoing the front of his pants, slipping in to palm him. The inhale you make when your fingers wrap around his cock is sweet and John breathes it in as if that one sound makes up his entire lifeblood.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s going to taste you everywhere. His lips and teeth will mark your skin. His tongue will find a home between your legs. You’ll forget this fuckers name. He just needs a few hours and it’ll be his name you’re screaming.

You stroke him again, and John drags you right to the edge of the counter, intending to sink to his knees to worship between your spread thighs.

Your knees lock at his hips and with another stroke of your hand, you tell him what you want. “I need you inside me. I want to feel you.”

You ask so sweetly. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to.

John helps you ease his pants down to his thighs. When he goes to undress you, he only finds underwear under that large, oversized shirt.

“Fuck, love.” John’s finger drags that fabric aside and he groans at the sight.

You’re already wet. Aching. Ready for him. Begging him to bury himself inside.

This one will be quick. It’ll be rough and he’ll probably fucking spill within a minute, but he has the whole night to take you over every surface in this flat, to make you writhe and moan beneath him.

Placing one hand on the counter and one on your thigh, John starts to ease in. Inch by inch, slowly, he disappears until there is nothing left for him to give. He has a perfect view of how you stretch around him. How you slightly clench and unclench, the pleasure of it shooting to the base of his spine.

“Don’t leave me,” you murmur as Soap begins to thrust into you.

“Never,” he replies, nuzzling the side of your face as you pepper him with kisses.

John anchors himself, snapping his hips, chasing the end just so he can get you back into that bedroom to do so much more.

“You’re mine,” he groans as your fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer. “Always have been.”

[ticifics]

Distraction

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: But most of all, you wanted him to know. You wanted to tell him how important he was, how he was more than just a friend to you, even if that meant risking everything. And yet, you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so calm, so oblivious to any feelings you might be silently holding.

Warnings: a little jealousy

The Hogwarts library seemed almost magical at that time of afternoon. Not that it wasn’t magical in itself, but it was in moments like these – when the silence seemed absolute, interrupted only by the rustling of pages and the soft scratch of quills on parchment – that you felt the space had a special charm. The imposing shelves, filled with old books, gave off a sense of vastness and tranquility that you had always adored. It was the perfect place to escape the bustle of the Common Room and lose yourself in your studies.

With your bag hanging from your shoulder, you looked around, trying to decide where to sit. Your gaze landed on a table in the center of the library, where a very familiar figure sat. Remus Lupin. Your heart gave a little jump, something so automatic that it didn’t surprise you anymore. It was always like this when he was near.

He was leaning over a large, worn book, his elbows resting on the table, hands gently holding his head as if the weight of the words required his full attention. His messy brown hair fell over his forehead, framing his face with soft yet marked features. The dim light from the windows made the golden hues in his hair shine, and you noticed how his brown eyes seemed almost honeyed as they slid over the pages. The thin scars crisscrossing his skin were almost invisible from a distance, but to you, who knew them well, they were impossible to ignore – and only made him even more... fascinating.

You were about to approach him and maybe ask what he was working on, but you stopped when you noticed he wasn’t alone. A Ravenclaw girl was sitting next to him. Tall, beautiful, with perfectly styled black hair and a warm smile, she seemed completely at ease. They were sharing the same book, their shoulders nearly touching as they examined the text. At one point, she said something that made him laugh – that low, soft laugh that always made your heart feel lighter and heavier at the same time.

You forced yourself to look away, feeling an odd warmth rise to your face. There was no reason to feel that way, you knew. Remus was your friend. A kind, funny friend, who always made you feel like the world was a safer place just because he was in it. And yet, that sight... bothered you. Much more than you wanted to admit.

With a sigh, you chose a table nearby, but far enough to not seem like you were spying. Opening your own books, you tried to focus on what you had planned to study – Herbology, your least favorite subject, but one that required attention. However, the words on the parchment seemed jumbled, as if your mind refused to absorb any information that wasn’t the sound of his laugh or the way he tilted his head when listening to what the girl was saying.

Unintentionally, you found yourself sneaking glances in their direction. It was impossible not to notice the way he moved – the restrained, smooth gestures, as if even the smallest movement was deliberate. The way he furrowed his brows when something in the text seemed intriguing, or how he would lightly bite the corner of his mouth when he laughed. Every detail seemed made to keep you mesmerized.

And the worst part was that you knew he had no idea of the effect he had on you. To him, you were just another friend. Maybe a confidante, someone he could share a book with or have an easy conversation in the Common Room. And that should be enough. But it wasn’t. Not when you knew, deep down, that you wanted more. That you wanted to be the one sitting next to him, not that Ravenclaw girl. You wanted to be the one who made him smile like that.

The thought was whispering, almost painful in its honesty. You wanted him to look at you the way he looked at that book – with attention, interest, and maybe even a hint of admiration. You wanted him to choose to sit next to you, not someone else. You wanted him to share that soft laugh with you, and only you.

But most of all, you wanted him to know. You wanted to tell him how important he was, how he was more than just a friend to you, even if that meant risking everything. And yet, you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so calm, so oblivious to any feelings you might be silently holding.

You snapped the book in front of you shut with a soft thud, frustrated with yourself. This was ridiculous. You shouldn’t be sitting here, wasting time with thoughts that only left you more confused and unsure. But still, you couldn’t help sneaking one more glance in his direction. Just one more. As if you could keep that image – the smile, the ease, the way he seemed so charming even when he wasn’t trying – and carry it with you, like a secret that was only yours.

That’s when he looked at you.

Your heart skipped a beat so violently that you almost dropped the inkpot. Remus lifted his gaze from the book, his soft brown eyes meeting yours. He smiled, that small, lopsided smile, which was more of a silent invitation than a pure gesture of joy. For a second, you thought he would turn his attention back to the girl beside him – but instead, he stood up.

You froze. He was coming towards you. Each step seemed louder than the whispers of the library, and you couldn’t do anything but pretend you were rearranging your things. Maybe, if you seemed busy enough, he wouldn’t notice the flush on your face or the hesitant clenching of your hands.

"Hi," he said when he stopped next to your table. His voice was low, soft, as if it were a secret just for the two of you. "Is it okay if I sit here? I promise I won’t disturb you."

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you were sure the blush had already spread across your face. "Sure. It's... it's fine." You gestured to the seat next to you, and he sat down with the ease of someone who had been doing this for years.

Now that he was closer, it was impossible not to notice how his brown hair was messily tousled in a way that seemed... deliberate. Like every strand was exactly where it needed to be to make him even more adorable. And his eyes—intense and warm, like amber on a sunny day—were fixed on you, as if he were waiting for something.

"Herbology?" He asked, pointing to the parchment in front of you.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to seem uninterested. But it was hard when he was right there, so close, with that half-smile that seemed to read all your thoughts. "I have an essay on poisonous plants to turn in next week."

He nodded, but didn't really seem interested in the subject. His eyes stayed on you, watching, assessing. After a moment of silence, he tilted his head slightly, a gesture so characteristic of him that you almost smiled. "Are you okay? Want help?"

"I... I'm fine," you said quickly, even though it was obvious you were far from fine. Your mind was still stuck on the image of him with the Ravenclaw girl, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out: "You seemed busy."

Remus blinked, surprised. "Busy?"

"With the Ravenclaw girl," you explained, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. Your gaze was fixed on the table now, your hands restless on the parchment. "She seemed... nice."

"Oh," he said, and there was something in his tone you couldn't quite decipher. "She was asking for help with a Charms assignment. It's nothing too interesting."

You shook your head, trying to push away the knot of frustration forming in your chest.

"Is everything okay?" The question was casual, but the gentle tone almost unraveled you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You answered too quickly, realizing your mistake as soon as the words came out. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

"You seem... distracted," he hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "Or upset."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to cover it, lowering your eyes to the parchment.

"It's nothing," you murmured, as your fingers played with the quill on the table.

He didn't respond immediately, but you felt the weight of his gaze. It was as if he was waiting for you to say more, and the tension in the silence was almost tangible. Finally, you forced yourself to look up.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

The corner of his mouth curled into a small smile, but his eyes remained serious.

"Nothing. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re looking at me like you want to bite me."

Your face heated up instantly, and you almost dropped the quill you were holding.

"I... I wasn't looking at you like that!" You protested, feeling your voice rise higher than you'd like.

He laughed—that low, contained laugh, but full of amusement.

"Really? Because it looked like it," He tilted his head to the side, as if genuinely curious.

You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. "Maybe I was... distracted."

His smile faded slightly, replaced by something softer, more serious.

"By me?" He asked, quietly.

You hesitated, feeling your heart race again. He seemed so... genuine, as if he really wanted to know. But you couldn’t just tell the truth. You couldn’t admit that jealousy was eating you up inside, that the sound of that girl’s laughter still echoed in your mind, that all you wanted was for him to be laughing with you.

"Maybe," you finally responded, your voice barely a whisper.

A silence settled between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if something invisible was being shared there, something that didn’t need to be said, but that, somehow, you both understood. You risked looking at him again, and found a smile so sweet, so genuine, that it almost made your heart stop.

"I like this," he said softly, as if confessing a secret. "Knowing I can distract you."

Those words lingered in the air, so light and yet so full of meaning that you felt as if the whole world had stopped for a moment. He wasn’t looking at you now, focused on the book he had just opened, but the gentle curve of his smile was still there, visible enough to make your heart stumble again.

You didn’t know how to respond. What do you say when the person who occupies all your thoughts—your dreams, your daydreams, and even your frustrations—admits something like that, so casually and charmingly?

Trying to seem less affected than you actually were, you opened another book. But your fingers trembled slightly as you turned the pages, and the printed words seemed like meaningless smudges. It didn’t matter. Your mind was somewhere else, caught in the soft sound of his voice, the way he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re very quiet." His voice cut through the silence again, low but with a hint of curiosity. You looked at him, realizing that he had already closed the book and was now truly watching you, his brown eyes catching every nuance of your expression.

"I just..." you began, but the sentence died before it could finish. How to explain? How to put into words the whirlwind he caused inside you without even trying?

He tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in a nearly imperceptible expression of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely interested, as if your answer was the most important thing in the world at that moment.

You looked away, trying to buy yourself some time. "Yeah, I’m fine. I just... got surprised."

"Surprised?" His tone was slightly curious, but there was something more there, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"By what you said," you admitted, your voice a bit lower than you intended. Your fingers drummed against the side of the book, a futile attempt to mask the nervousness.

Remus smiled again, but this time there was something more shy in his expression. As if, for the first time, he was as vulnerable as you felt. "Shouldn’t I have said it?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You quickly lifted your gaze, surprised by the question. "No!" The response came faster than you intended, but it was sincere. "I just... didn’t expect it."

He seemed to relax a little, though the shy smile was still there. "Good," he said, glancing briefly at his hands resting on the table. The scars marking his skin were visible, a silent reminder of everything he carried with him. But there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you again, as if, in that moment, he was trying to decipher something he wasn’t sure he should ask about.

"Do I distract you too?" The question slipped from his lips like a whisper, but it sounded like a storm in your ears.

You blinked, feeling your face heat up immediately. Everything inside you seemed to twist—nervousness, anticipation, something you still couldn’t fully name.

"Distraction might not be the right word," he replied, a small smile curling at his lips.

"Oh, no?" Your voice had a slightly worried tone now, no matter how much you tried to hide it.

He didn’t look away, seeming to search for the right words. "No. It’s more... complicated than that."

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment, but the way he looked at you made it seem like he was seeing far more than you were willing to admit. Finally, he tilted his head, a smile as soft as a spring breeze appearing at the corner of his lips. "Complicated can be good," he said, his voice low but full of something that made your throat tighten. "I mean... sometimes."

You didn’t know what to respond, and maybe you didn’t need to. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but full of something that felt tangible, as if you both knew that this—this conversation, these glances—was the beginning of something neither of you were ready to name yet.

And then, he did something so simple, yet it seemed to take the air out of your lungs: he extended his hand across the table and lightly touched the tips of your fingers, as if he wanted to make sure you were there, that it was real.

"Complicated," he repeated, the smile now bigger, more certain. "But good."

You couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on your face, nor the way your heart seemed to beat out of rhythm. Because, in that moment, even if nothing had been said explicitly, you knew he was talking about the two of you.

[scarletwinterxx]

benefit of friends - kim mingyu imagine

god really made this man to be the most perfect one😭 how to get your own kim mingyu (asking for a friend) lol anyways hope you like this one!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing.

Work is work. Fun is fun. Feelings? Well, they’re like those receipts stuffed into your wallet... you’ll deal with them later.

Your arrangement with Mingyu, your ridiculously handsome coworker-turned-“friend-with-benefits,” was supposed to fall neatly into the “fun” category.

No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions.

But tonight, at the company dinner, you’re beginning to realize that neatly labeled boxes have a way of getting jumbled when Mingyu’s around.

The restaurant is buzzing with chatter, glasses clinking, and the hum of soft music in the background. His deep, warm laugh carries over the noise, drawing glances from everyone at your table. He’s always been effortlessly charming, with his broad shoulders, that perfect smile, and a sense of humor that’s impossible to resist.

And right now, someone else seems to have noticed.

A junior marketing associate, her name slips your mind, but she’s all bright eyes and flirty giggles. She's leaning just a little too close to him. Her hand grazes his arm as she laughs at something he said, and you swear you see her fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly take a sip of your wine, hoping the bitterness will drown the unfamiliar feeling clawing its way up your throat.

Jealousy.

It’s ridiculous, really. You and Mingyu aren’t together.

You’ve both made it clear: this is casual. Easy. No messy emotions, remember?

So why does it bother you so much when he leans in to whisper something to her, his grin widening as she laughs again?

“Are you okay?” a colleague asks, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile.

But your eyes can’t help darting back to Mingyu.

Later, as the group begins to thin out, people leaving one by one, you make your way to the bar for another drink.

You need something. Anything to steady your nerves. You’re swirling your glass idly when you feel someone slide onto the stool beside you.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Mingyu says, his voice low and teasing.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately. “I’m just tired,” you lie.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning a little closer. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it makes your heart race.

“Tired? Or… distracted?”

That gets your attention. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he already knows exactly what’s on your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning indifference.

“Oh, don’t you?” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly attractive. “You’ve been glaring daggers at poor Mina all night.”

So that’s her name. Mina.

“I wasn’t glaring,” you snap, a little too defensively.

He laughs softly, leaning even closer until his shoulder brushes yours. “You were. And, for the record, it was kind of cute.”

“I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Really?” His voice drops, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. “Because it looked a lot like jealousy to me.”

You turn to face him fully, ready to argue, but the words catch in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you—intense, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Mingyu,” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“Relax,” he says, smirking. “I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you hate how much that admission makes your pulse race. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, turning back to your drink.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, “but you like me anyway.”

The car ride home is quieter than usual. Mingyu insisted on sharing a ride, though you suspect it’s less about convenience and more about prolonging the teasing

As the car pulls up to your apartment, you hesitate for a moment. You should say goodnight and leave it at that.

But when Mingyu’s hand brushes yours as he moves to open the door, your resolve wavers.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice casual, though your heart is anything but.

He smiles knowingly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Your apartment feels smaller with Mingyu in it. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to boil over as he follows you inside, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, his tone teasing but softer now, “if you’re going to get jealous every time someone flirts with me, we might have to renegotiate this whole ‘just friends’ thing.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say again, though even you don’t believe it this time.

“Sure,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can come up with a retort, his hand cups your cheek, and suddenly you forget how to speak.

“Mingyu,” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a kiss—soft at first, almost tentative, before it deepens. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

You don’t remember moving, but somehow you end up against the kitchen counter, his lips trailing down your neck as your hands tangle in his hair.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though it comes out more like a sigh.

“And yet,” he says, his breath warm against your skin, “you keep me around.”

His lips find yours again, and this time there’s no teasing, no games, just the kind of intensity that leaves you breathless and wondering how you ever thought you could keep this casual.

Later, as you lie tangled together on your couch, his arm draped lazily over your waist, you realize your carefully labeled boxes have completely unraveled.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with that.

It starts at a casual get-together with some of your friends. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to come. You invited him half-jokingly, figuring he’d have better things to do on a Friday night. But to your surprise, he’d shown up, effortlessly sliding into the group as if he’d always been part of it.

And now, you wish he hadn’t.

Not because you’re upset he’s here.

Far from it.

Mingyu has a way of making everything more fun. It’s just that you’re too aware of him, standing across the room, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s keeping tabs on you.

You’re talking to a guy.

what was his name again? Jae? Jin? Mingyu thought to hinself.

The guy has clearly been angling for your attention all night but you don’t notice. You’re oblivious to the way he leans a little too close when he speaks or the way his hand brushes yours unnecessarily as you reach for your drink.

Mingyu notices, though.

From his spot by the makeshift bar, he’s gripping his glass a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. He tells himself it’s fine—you’re not his, and he has no right to feel this way. But when Jae-or-whatever laughs a little too loud at something you’ve said, leaning in like he’s about to touch you, something snaps.

Before he knows it, he’s crossing the room.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge as he steps between you and Jason, casually sliding his arm around your waist. “Didn’t realize you’d made a new friend.”

“Mingyu? What are you doing?” You blink up at him, surprised

“Just thought I’d check in,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. His gaze shifts to Jason, who suddenly looks less sure of himself. “Who’s this?”

Jason clears his throat. “Uh, I’m Joon. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” Mingyu says, his smile sharp. “That’s nice. But I think she’s good here.”

“Mingyu—” you start, but he’s already steering you away, his hand firm on your lower back.

You glance back at Joon, who’s standing there awkwardly, but Mingyu doesn’t let you linger. He leads you out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hits your skin.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, spinning to face him.

“What was that?” he counters, his voice low and tense. “That guy was all over you.”

“He was not!” you protest. “We were just talking.”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes, you know that? He wasn’t just talking, he was hitting on you.”

You cross your arms, irritation bubbling up. “And what if he was? It’s not like you get to decide who I talk to.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he steps closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Maybe I don’t,” he says quietly, his voice dangerously calm. “But I didn’t like it.”

Your breath catches. His proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it’s overwhelming

“Why do you even care?” you ask, though your voice is softer now, less sure. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and suddenly the world feels smaller, like it’s just the two of you on that balcony.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Your heart pounds as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours

“I care,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something that feels too big to name, “because you’re mine.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Mingyu—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves you breathless. It’s not soft or tentative like before—it’s possessive, claiming, as if he’s trying to prove something to both of you.

You don’t resist. Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his hands slide to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we said no feelings. No strings. But I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

Your chest tightens, and for once, you don’t push him away. Instead, you reach up to trace the line of his jaw, your touch soft.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but there’s no heat in your words. “But I guess you're my idiot.”

His smile is equal parts relief and triumph. “Damn right I am”

Back inside, the party continues without you, but neither of you cares. You end up in your apartment again, the tension between you finally boiling over.

This time, there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Just the two of you giving in to what’s been building for weeks. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing you, and when you pull him down onto the couch, he follows without question.

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low as his lips trail downward.

“Say what?” you manage, your breath hitching as his hands slide under your shirt.

“That you’re mine,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, hidden beneath all the confidence.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m yours,” you whisper, and the way his expression softens makes your heart ache.

“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m yours too.”

And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a promise.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

of monsters and milk (dad!hanjisung)

can ya'll tell i have the biggest fucking soft spot for dad!han 🙈

"Weeeeeee-gaaahh".

"AH. CRYING BABY"

Han jolts into a sitting position, all senses on high alert, eyes wide and his messy head of hair all fluffed out and tousled from the abrupt start.

He quickly slips out of the rumpled sheets and crawls over to the bassinet at the feet of the bed just as you start to stir awake, ever so slowly.

"Mmh...Nari?".

Han swiftly picks up his crying baby, he retrieves her discarded pacifier and gently sticks it in her mouth as too soothe her quickly, all the while rocking her in his arms gently, "I got this, shh, go back to sleep", he instructs softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

In your hazy, still dreamy state you catch but a jumbled murmur of his words and whiff on Nari's baby powder and milk scent before you drift off to sleep incredibly quickly. After all being a parent for the second time with a toddler and a 2 months old baby gets the best of you. Reason why you and Han take turns for night feeds and cuddles and just overall baby duties.

Perhaps the both of you combined might eventually get 8 full hours of sleep in a week. Not 8 consecutive hours of rest but ... Still.

Nari is not quite calm yet but the pacifier holds off her hungry crying at least until he has successfully padded his way out of your shared bedroom and into the hall, ""ts alright Nari-ah, milk is coming, milk is coming", he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to her downy little head as he makes his way down the hall  and is almost about to unlock the kids safe gate perched on top of the stairs when he hears a wail like scream followed by loud whimpers.

"MONSTAH MONSTAH WEEEE".

"Oh ... Another crying baby". 

Han barely has any time to kneel down on the floor, carefully balancing Nari on his hip while still holding onto her head and neck so it's pressed into his chest when Daisy comes screaming down the hall, running straight into her father's unoccupied arm, spread out for her: "what happened? baby what happened are you okay?", he tries to calm her down by hugging her to the best of his abilities.

It partially works. Nothing like daddy's magic hugs to calm down a crying baby. Daisy burrows her little face into her father's chest and sniffles quietly, "i had a mare mare...wit monstah". A small but painful crack in his heart, Han pulls his older daughter tighter to him, "aw you had a nightmare and a monster was there,sweetheart? I'm so sorry, it must have been scary yeah?", he says calmly, recognizing her fear and distress.

The little girl nods vehemently and sticks her tiny hands in her dad's pjama pants pocket, timdily asking for comfort and shelter, "very scawy, he took Quokki", she confesses, her big brown eyes still glossy with unshed tears, "oh no, not Quokki. I'm so sorry Daisy girl, we should make this bad monster go away shouldn't we? I bet Quokki is scared too", Han says softly, gathering up his two lovely bundles of daughters as he slowly stands up again.

Daisy clings to his legs and looks up at him expectantly, very much wrapped around his finger for Oppa is always so good at helping her through nightmares. "Alright, let's go chase out this bad guy so you and Quokki can go back to sleep", he explains patiently, walking towards her room.

Nari fusess about in slight impatience, her suckling on her pacifier growing sloppy with anticipation for the milk she's been promised, that much Han knows very well. But he's determined not to wake you up again, despite the dark circles around his tired eyes and the overall sleepiness and exhaustion from the numerous sleepless nights, he still takes the time to tackle one problem at a time, help one daughter at a time.

As soon as Daisy walks back into her bedroom she lunges for her HanQuokka plushie, which she has funnily renamed Quokki, and holds him tight to her chest, a sight so heartbreakingly devastating Han crumples on the inside out of pure endearment.

"Good girl, Deiji girl, cuddle him close, he needs you right now", he instructs before bending down on his knees again so he's more eye level with his daughter, "okay, first we have to chase Mr. Monster away from Daisy's little mind and Quokki's too right?", he says and waits for Daisy to nod her approval, "you know how we do that? with a kiss!! Monsters are very afraid of kisses, because kisses are magic!".

Ah the fervent imagination he nurtured with years and years of songwriting and bed time story impromptu making. Han Jisung the artist and the loving father where one and the same: wizards. Little genius brain faces of the same man.

Daisy's adoring eyes go wide with utter bewilderment, her mouth even opening in awe, "what were going to do is daddy gives you a kiss, here on your forehead so Monster flies straight out, and then you give Quokki a kiss on his little forehead so he's protected too!", Han enthuses, admiring how his daughter lights up at the suggestion,"YES!!", the 2 year old exclaims excitedly, now jumping up and down, almost rousing her little sister whose sleepy but inquisitive big eyes are looking around, taking in her sourroundings.

Emphasizing the smack of his lips on her forehead, Han kisses his first baby and taps her head gently, "take that Mr. Monster!", Daisy squeals in happiness and places a resounding kiss onto her plushie, which catches Nari's attention, the infant squirming and whining softly, "ah I think your baby sister might want a magic kiss too!", Han states, immediately abiding to his instincts. Which Daisy promptly replicates by puckering up and standing on her tippy toes to reach her sister.

A tender spike to his heart, Han bends down and watches that blissful moment as Daisy kisses her sister's forehead, looking immensely proud. He still is just astounded at how sensitive and smart and perceptive his first flower is. Actual tears threaten to spill right out of his eyes.

"Gooood girl, good big sissy. Now we're going to open the window so Monster can finally get out", he affirms then, walking over to the moon illuminated window, opening it wide for a brief second, "Mr. Monster we need you to go and leave Daisy alone now, bye bye", he mocks waves his hand bye, his older daughter imitating him, "buh -bye monstah", she exclaims resolutely in her tiny voice.

Once the window is closed Han spins around and holsters up Nari who's now growing restless for her milk, "okay, monster's gone now. Do you want to have some warm milk like sissy before going back to bed?", he offers, "yes, daddah", Daisy beams upnat him and he holds oir his hand for her, "downstairs we go,then. Hand please", he instructs again so they can walk out and then downstairs safely.

He's done this a million times, really. Ever since she started walking and then running and then figuring out how ro climb the stairs, Han knows she's a big girl now, she's careful and capable of moving around on her own quite well. Yet to hold safely that tiny hand while walking downstairs feels like the most precious thing still.

If he could hold her hand forever, through whatever hurdles might come here way, if he could shield and help his daughters bu Just holding their hands forever he would, in a heartbeat.

The clever little older girl climbs on her chair by herself, she patiently waits for her dad to slide said chair closer to the table so she's safe up there and quietly plays with her Quokki while Han warms up some milk. Nari drools all over herself, squirming around in her father's hold when she sees her milk bottle approach, "one second baby girl, it's hot, it's very hot", he says through a yawn, ultimately, finally! sitting down at the table, ready to feed his girls.

He hands Daisy her sippy cup and she takes it with both hands, as if accepting a gift, just like her dad taught her, "there you go, darling", "thank youuu appa". Smiling warmly at her, Han brushes her hair gently, so proud of her manners, the way she's still so young but so talkative and bright. The way she started picking up Korean so well and she spontaneously switches in between languages. He loves their little conversations.

"Kkkksss ahh milky's finally here yeah? Hi sweetheart, hi", he coos softly, feeding Nari who slurps up her milk ravenously while he gently settles her head in the crook of his elbow, right against his chest so her neck is supported and tilted right.

Oh that lovely baby smell intensifying, her tiny sounds and hiccups, Han gazes lovingly into his other daughter's eyes, holding her bottle for her.

He's split between the two loves of his entire life, not sure how to contain all the love stored within him. It's the quiet moments like these that make his heart flutter, just him and these two small humans he helped bring to life. 

"All done dadda", Daisy exclaims, showing her empty cup, a little sleepiness in her eyes, "you're all done baby? was it yummy? do you want some more?", Han asks, smiling encouragingly, "no thank you, 'm good", she replies through a small yawn, shaking her head,"okay, can you wait two more minutes until sissy's done with her milk or would you like to go to sleep right now?", he inquires, gently tilting the bottle so Nari can easily suck up the last few drops of milk, "Daiji waits", murmurs the little girl, rocking her legs back and forth as she waits patiently at the table.

As soon as Han's done feeding Nari, he grabs a towel and drapes it over his shoulder expertly, he promptly lifts his baby up to his shoulders so he can pat her back and help her digest, silently praying she doesn't spit up her milk while he walks around slowly.

"Can I hol' shissy?". Han stops in his tracks and grins widely at Daisy, who's looking expectantly at her father, he walks over to her at the table and bends down on his knees, "of course you can hold sissy, little daisy flower. You want to be very gentle okay? Dadda helps you".

With a bit of careful maneuvering, and with the strong support of his arms, Han places a now very sleepy very calm baby Nari into her older sister's lap, the little girl cradling the baby so sweetly and hesitantly Han feels his heart swelling and swelling.

"Nari is preeetty", she mumbles under her breath, "yeah she's is very pretty, and you are very pretty. And mum's very pretty too, and you both look just like her", Han replies sincerely, unable to contain the joy manifesting on his face, he kissess both of his daughters' cheeks, so endeared he might cry.

A few goodnight kissess and nuzzles and diaper checks later, once he has made sure Nari's fast asleep in her bassinet and you are still soundly asleep, Han makes his way back to Daisy's room, tired and sleepy beyond comprehension but still willing to tuck his daughter to bed like he promised he would.

Daisy's already all snuggled up to her plushie, a few messy wisps of hair peeking out from underneath the bundle of sheets and blankets she has buried herself in. Han chuckles at the sight and pats her head tenderly, "Deiji baby...", he whispers, loud enough for her to hear while not disrupting her sleepy state too much.

Squinty sleepy eyes finally look back at him, a mischievous little grin spreading on her lips as she giggles and lifts her blanket up to her face again, hiding underneath, "ah! are we suddenly playing hide and seek now?", Han plays along, tickling her first and then squatting down on the floor so when Daisy removed the blanket she only sees the top of his head.

They play like that back and forth for a few minutes, at least until the little girl starts yawning more frequently and Han recognizes the heavy eyelids falling upon her eyes, "time to go back to sleep", he says sweetly, already adjusting the blankets and tucking her in, "appa is really really proud of you, you are such a good little helper and an amazing older sister to Nari, I love you so much".

Daisy smiles sleepily and cuddles Quokki to her chest, bleary eyes hardly open right now, "I love you dadda", she says in her tiny quiet voice, her father melting entirely. He kissess the top of her head and pats Quokki once, his knees straining with effort when he finally stands up straight again, "I love you more. Sweet dreams baby, sweet dreams Quokki".

[denwritesandcries]

Hug me Tighter – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

Note: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog ​​eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

[a-haunting-memory]

hello!! Hope you are having a wonderful day <33 This is a Lackadaisy request for a one shot so yippee! Basically just reader having a toxic relationship and how Mordecai, Rocky, and maybe other characters deal with it. Hope you have fun writing this angst prompt and I’ll be looking forward to it! Toodles <3

Hey, hi, hello! First of all thank you! I hope you're having a great day/night too! :3

Second of all, when I saw the request I was like: 'wait, that will be cool to write!' although ngl I've kind of procrastinated the writing process, sorry, I just lost my motivation and I had to push myself to start writing this ( ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ)

However I've finally got my motivation back. I'm not very good at making oneshots, it's my second time making one if I can even call this thing an one shot so if it's not looking like a proper one, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure how to get a hang of it. I was struggling a bit due to the lack of information so i tried to keep stuff neutral enough to not imply names nor gender which usually is not a problem to me, but lately I've been feeling like someone put a block to my creativity so if this writing isn't as good, you'll have to excuse me...

In case it is not what you expected, please let me know what to fix. Any advices are welcome!

Summary: How would Mordecai, Rocky deal with a reader who's in a toxic relationship.

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship of course, mentions of death, reader is gn, the relationship between the reader and canon characters is undefined.

Mordecai:

When he heard you complaining about some unreasonable arguments that you've had with your partner, he's been trying to be polite, trying to give you a few advices, telling you your partner was not acting wisely, not like a proper partner should. As the time passed, you had more and more complaints and on top of that you looked more gloomy. Seeing that, Mordecai's comments about how you should do something about it or just leave the person, worsened. How could you be so stupid not seeing what a two-faced, serpent with no respect your partner was?!

He always felt strange towards relationships, but now it was even worse after observing how someone close to him hurts themselves because of some weird relationships and odd feelings.

The line has been crossed when he saw you crying in a corner one day. The look of you - helplessly trying to wipe the tears off your cheeks, but only making it worse, rubbing them all over your face - reminded him of the time his little sister had scraped her knee and was weeping until he himself came to help her.

That was it.

You were too stubborn, too jumbled in those stupid feelings to do anything. If not him, no one is gonna take care of this situation.

That night he left his apartment with a fedora that cast a shadow over his face along with a coat that blended his figure into the darkness of the night. He already got everything he needed to know. He connected every little dot, every fact you said about your partner and the places you hung around - Mordecai quickly figured out their place of living.

In the future you have to be more careful what you say... he probably should tell you that.

After he reached your partner's flat, his lock picking skills were up to use. Much to his dismay, the rest of what he had left to do was a bit messy...

He didn't know how to comfort you the following days as you weeped over your not-so-alive partner, but at least neither you nor he had to worry about a certain somebody ruining your mental nor physical health anymore.

He's not a guy of many words nor one who shows much emotion / affection if any at all so you cannot expect much comfort from him, but he'll try to be there for you despite everything.

He will not tell you it was him who killed your partner tho, no, you would hate him for that even tho he 'did the right thing'... Or at least that's what he's been telling himself.

If you really want to, you'll find someone better, who will be the right for you, for sure.

Rocky:

He was happy to see you and your partner in the speakeasy. He loved bothering and teasing you two. It was fun and giggles until he started to notice you coming to Lackadaisy alone more often or acting somewhat odd when with your partner.

He observed you as you sat alone at the bar, leaning over a glass of illicit beverage. He was curious about the reason of it hence he came up to you:

- "hey there sulky-puss, where's your partner?" He rested his fists on his hips.

- "I don't really want to talk about this." You grumbled out.

- "Oh c'mon, pal! Spill the beans!" He cheered with his usual toothy smile.

- "No, Rocky, I'm not in the mood" you cut him off. Seeing his grin getting wiped away from his face exchanged for a confused look made you wince, you hated seeing him upset. "Sorry, I just-... It's a bit complicated, don't worry about it, okay?"

He nodded, he didn't want to bother you too much, he tried to ignore it... at least for now. However he couldn't shake off a bad feeling he had about what was happening. However he started to pick up stuff like: how your arms were often drooped, how hunched your posture was, how you looked like a walking ball of anxiety. He tried to talk to you, to crack a joke, to cheer you up. Sometimes it had the intended effect and sometimes it had the opposite outcome, but he didn't want to give up. After some conversations during which you may or may have not been slightly tipsy he concluded 'your partner was the matter'.

- "Woah, Woah, Woah-... Your partner did what?"

- "yeah... They started threatening me after I said I wanted to leave." You admitted quietly.

- "Oh no, that is not the spirit of love!" He pressed his palms to his cheeks dramatically, making his lips pursue like a fish.

- "Unfortunately you're right, it's not... I don't know what to do anymore." You whined and then took a sip of your beverage.

.

you may not have had any ideas on what to do but he did...

.

That awful person was making their significant other feel unsafe and unloved! I'll show them what the real threat is!-

He took a big swing and...

Clash ..Voomf..

A burning bottle filled with motor oil and gasoline hit the wall of a house and set it on fire.

- "TASTE THE BURNING FLAMES OF LOVE! Ahahah- Or rather the flames of sweet justice. I probably should've said that instead." Rocky brought his finger up to scratch his chin. "Hmm, I should have-"

- "YOU BASTARD!!" A sudden yell came from the window.

Rocky looked up and his lips widened in a twisted grin.

- "You brought this on yourself!! BhAHahHa!!" Once he saw the figure rushing and disappearing deeper into the house, he knew that was the moment to run and so he did...with a maniacal laugh.

The condition of your partner and their house depends on how generous Rocky felt that day.

Let's hope your partner is scared enough to leave you alone and not seek revenge.

[peachyproserpina]

Nasty

Elliot x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Elliot made it into Corps training, you're making him late to the announcement.

Warnings: Elliot's mean, tardiness, swearing, sex, smut, spitting, semi-established AU(which will be introduced soon), as always MC/Reader is Fat

A bite before: @glassbxttless is the one who wrote this if I'm being honest. She managed to take my jumbled ramblings and translate them over to this beautiful little morsel.

Elliot is mean as he thrusts into you. His pace unforgiving as a warm palm makes sure you take every single inch of him. His grip firm on that fat-swell-handful, using the leverage to keep you pinned down against that uncomfortably cool table. You’re already fucked out and he’s barely begun. You were running behind today, fucking Dorris was late coming to relieve you, and you knew there’s that stupid meeting— no one from OP1 can be a second late for. Including the soon-to-be corpsman who is spitting right where he’s pounding. The fingers on his other hand mean and messy against your clit, a smile bright on his features as he makes you cream around his cock. 

“Fuckin’ told you, can’t be late to this.” Elliot’s thankful he’s got your wrists tied up behind your head and a fuckin rag from somewhere in this closet stuffed into your mouth. You’ve got those cute almost sparkly tears runnin’ down your cheeks and he knows that you’d be making those whiny sultry pleads to be able to cum already if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full. 

It’s desperate and messy, you’re already fucked out, but you know this song and dance deep down. You’ve been fucking like rabbits (much to Mac’s dismay). You’re very aware of how this is gonna go. He can’t drag this out how he usually likes, how he’d have you ride his boot and then make you clean up the mess. Or how he’d like to bend you over the nearest surface, or maybe how he’d like to have you sit on his face and ride him till your hips are rolling hard and pressing down proper. If Elliot dies right now, he may as well be in Heaven— or as close as he’s going to get anyway. Usually getting you so close too many times until you’re crying for him— begging with those breathy, “fuck” “Elliot” “Please Sir”’s. Maybe he’d let you cum once or twice, just to watch the way you melt for him. Before— if it’s a good day, (he’s between shifts at the hospital, you’re free from the diner, and Mac’s outta the apartment)— he starts it all over again. 

You’re whining loud, muffled through the makeshift gag— but he still catches it.— Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze, when you realize how loud you’re being. His thrusts even paced and not slowing down a bit. He’s watching the way your pupils are blown wide and trying not to roll back in your head. A satisfied smirk graces his features and a bead of sweat was rolling down his temple. Elliot is almost concerned with the volume, the wet slap of skin on skin as he’s pounding away, not subtle even in the slightest. If it weren’t for the rows and rows of stacked shelves between the two of you and the door, he’d bring himself to care more. If anyone were to walk in, they’d know exactly what you were up to if they dared to venture a few feet back. 

“Gonna fuckin’ pay for that, sweetheart.” He catches the way your manicured fingers flex and tense at his threat. 

You’re close. 

He savors the way you take him before he’s stopping, burying himself to the hilt in your greedy cunt. You can feel every fucking inch, and the way the hair at the base of his dick is pressing against your clit makes your eyes roll back in your head. You were so fucking close to the finish line, and the pause in his ministrations has you falling back from the edge of bliss. If Elliot’s hand wasn’t keeping you pinned down, you’d be sat with your arms thrown around his neck, pleading with him to let you cum, that you’d do absolutely anything. His hand abandons your soon-to-be-bruised flesh on your belly to keep you pinned down, hand pressed right to the center of your chest. He leans over slightly, bending you just that little bit more. 

Your leg is hooked around his very much still clothed shoulders. You’re trying to grind down— just begging him to let you cum with nothing but your eyes. But unfortunately for you, Elliot is unforgiving. His hands slam down against the table next to your head. He’s not giving you an inch, he’s keeping you exactly where he wants you— unmoved and compliant for him. A bead of sweat rolls down his face, dripping off the tip of his nose. He follows where it lands below him, splashing against your skin. And he catches the way your dress is pinned between you— your tits nearly falling out of the top. They were barely contained in the dress you had worn during the ceremony, you were Mac’s little sister after all; you’d been allowed to tag along as family. Elliot getting to use you as his own personal fleshlight after is just a fortunate perk. 

“No fuckin’ bra, I knew it.” It doesn’t take much effort on his part to have your tits spilling out. Just a barely there tug, he lifts himself up just a bit to watch them run over as he does. He gives a mean pinch to your nipple, before he’s grabbing a hefty handful to give it a good shake. Entranced as he watches the way your tits jiggle, the way you’re so fuckin’ soft under his hands. 

“Eyes up, sweetheart.” Your head tips forward from where it had been thrown back. You clench around him when your eyes meet— and he can tell it wasn’t on purpose. “You don’t get to cum. Maybe after this fuckin’ meeting that—“ he draws his hips back slowly, laying out the ground rules for the night ahead. “We’re going to be late getting to.” The sentence is punctuated by a hard thrust, burying himself right back up to the base of his cock. He’s close, so damn close, and he’d mad that despite the fact he’s had you in just about every position he can think of, you can still milk him dry in no time at all. 

You both are so wrapped up in one another, that you don’t hear Erik’s voice calling out for Elliot. Needing to check in before this shit really gets going, having to track his ass down which is very unlike him. No, Elliot is just cumming his brains out in Mac’s little sister’s guts, not catching his CO calling for him. He doesn’t hear the way Erik— who’s already been on a few tours— gasps at the sight before him. It’s sinful, the way Elliot’s got your ankles held (with one hand as he uses the other to zip up his trousers.) He can catch the way his cum leaks from between your well fucked thighs. 

It takes a lot to get him riled up. He knows he shouldn’t be seeing this. He knows he definitely shouldn’t be this hard at walking in on Elliot in this kind of fucked up situation. Involving you, Mac’s little sister, of all people. But here he is, blush creeping up his neck and sweat starting to drip down his back.

Oh, Erik's in for it now.

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