#you see the remnants of what kids used to play with

[cuntinies]

Take it off

summary: fwb!sub!abby x reader

warnings: fwb! abby, mentions of marijuana usage, sub! abby, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus, making out, fingering, needy abby because it's my favorite. proof read-ish. lmk if i missed anything

Fall time was the best time. The stuffy, clammy summer air is gone, and the brisk fall air enters your lungs. The sound of the crunchy leaves under your feet, warm drinks, and smoke seshes in your nice, warm home. You love it. 

But.. it also means cuffing season, and you weren't getting any of that because Abby decided to stop seeing you. You know you are not supposed to get attached while being friends with benefits, but fucking hell, it was Abby for crying out loud. It was normal for Abby to ghost you for 2-3 days, but a whole week? The beginning of the season has been shit for you.

You set up your nightly, ritually smoke sesh in your room. Sitting down on your cozy floor table, convenient for times like these, you start preparing your spread. Rolling papers that left a lingering taste of strawberries, the grinder that you decorated with stickers, your lucky lighter that is always with you, and finally, your precious herb that was in a small glass jar. You put on your favorite show and start getting comfortable until you hear Abby’s signature two knocks. You feel your heart drop literally to your ass. You wait for about 2 minutes until you listen to it again.

Knock, knock.

“Are you fucking kidding me..” you mutter, pushing the table as you stretch your legs. Grabbing the first item of clothing in your hamper, you slip on a hoodie and quickly walk to the door. Opening the door where you meet a deliciously looking blonde-haired girl. Hair out of her braid and shorts that accentuate the muscles on her thighs. She looks too good, and she knows it.

“What do you need?” you said, not even a hello and not even opening the door all the way. Abby puts her arm in the doorway.

“Aw, did you miss me?” she asks, using her body weight to push the door open, pushing you with it. She lets herself inside, already looking around your living room.

“C’mon, Abby. What do you need? You want to call us off for a week and show up at my house without letting me know?” You say as you close the door, following her into your living room. You instantly regret letting this woman back into your home again. The smell of her pine body wash, the sandalwood perfume she wore, and the warmth she emitted from her was enough to open your arms(or your legs) to her again.

“The thing is..” Abby starts, but as she sits on the couch, a sly smirk creeps on her face. You bite your bottom lip, aware of the effect Abby has on you, so if she smiles, you can’t help but smile.

“Take it off,” Abby says, making herself comfortable by spreading her legs, seeing how her shorts ride up and can get a peek of her baby blue spandex shorts. You feel your face warm up, trying to keep your eyes above her waist.

“E-excuse me?” was all you could say as you stared at her in disbelief. 

She raises her eyebrows. “That hoodie,” she says, pointing to the exact hoodie you had on. “I came to get it back with a few of my other things.”

Shit.

“Look, I'm sorry,” sighing to mostly yourself. Abby reminded you that she wanted her stuff back, and because of the sudden disconnect between you two, you didn’t have the time. You took a moment to look around you, seeing if there were any remnants of her presence still lingering in your home. “I haven't done any laundry and just grabbed whatever was in my hamper. Tomorrow, I'll have a look around.”

Abby shakes her head with that same stupid smirk on her face. She flips her hair to the side and loosens the neck of her hoodie collar Was she hot..?

“No. I want you to take it off. Right now,” She says in that tone that you're familiar with. A deep, dulcet, yet desperate. 

You feel this fluttering hurt in your stomach, the good kind. You haven’t slept with anyone since Abby, and she looks like she needs you…

Fuck it.

You grab the bottom of the hoodie, lifting it and revealing your naked top half. Your skin litters with goosebumps, feeling the slight chill air around you, but the warm liquid swimming in your belly is another thing. You see the light pink blush painting Abby’s cheeks as you toss the hoodie. Fuck she’s so cute. Abby catches it but tosses the hoodie to the side and yanks your hand as you fall on top of her. 

“Abby!” you let out a small yelp as she melts her lips to yours. The way Abby was kissing you was enough to tell you that this girl was needy. Hertongue finds yours, teeth clashing, letting out small, quiet moans and whines as her grip on your arm tightens. You break the kiss, taking a good look at her glossy lips, her eyes drooped with arousal, and how her hair is already mused.

“And you said that I missed you? Look at you, poor baby.” You whisper in the space between the two of you, letting your lips linger but not enough for the needy girl below you to get another taste. 

Abby’s eyes widen for a second, opening her mouth to say something but closing it with a flustered face.

“You missed me so much,” You say as your hand creeps up on the muscular thigh, so close to where she needs you. She shifts, wanting to get you between her legs, but you’re already one step ahead of her. You move your knee, having good pressure against Abby that has her slightly bucking her eager hips. “That you came over to get a stupid sweater?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrow, and she shakes her head. This cute, puzzled look on her face makes you want to bury her in kisses, but you’re supposed to be mad at her. You lean back into her lips, biting, sucking, anything that works her up. Abby is putty below you. She lets out these moans that you’ve never heard before, high-pitched mewls that make you bite her lip harder. Your hand creeps up her thigh, up into the crewneck, and you are met with her bare, sensitive chest, rising and falling rapidly  You smile into the kiss, not wanting to embarrass her even more for coming over prepared. You grope her chest, fondling with the fat that lay there and playing with the pebbling nipple. Abby breaks the kiss, inhaling sharply.

“Ah- please.” She gasps, bucking her hips again. This was a completely different side of her. Abby has received from you, and she is pretty vocal in bed, but this fucking submissive? It makes you want to deprive her for weeks on end. You break the kiss, hurridly helping Abby take off her crewneck and attaching your mouth to her boob. Circling your tongue around the rose-colored nipple has Abby holding her breath. After a few minutes of playing with her chest, you trail kisses down to the navel. You didn’t even have to ask, as Abby was quick to slip her shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the living room.

“Mmm, needy, aren’t we?” looking into her eyes as you mutter against her hip bone, skin almost feverish to how warm she was. Abby rolls her eyes, the sass still somehow in her.

“Fuck yes, ok? Please, baby,” Abby whines, throwing her head back onto the couch armrest. She reveals her neck, sweat droplets cascade slowly, accentuating the veins that played there. Fingers are dancing up her leg, in between where you see how desperate her cunt is. Glistening, soft pink flesh and her musk have you blacking out slightly. 

“I want you to look at me, Abby.” You said, patting her thigh to grab her attention as you met with her eyes. It’s as if she was god himself. Her fucked out expression made you clench around nothing.

“Good girl” was the last thing you said as you stuck your tongue out and licked a fat stripe of her pussy. Abby can't help but close her eyes, too overwhelmed by your teasing tongue. 

“Nuh uh, look at me. I want you to watch, baby,” putting your tongue away, smoothing her shaking thighs over with your hands. She nods eagerly, raking her hair out of her face. You bite back a smile before diving in again. Spreading her open with your mouth, Abby was so wet. Slick coating your chin, you move your hand over to pull back her clit to kiss it. Moans strung out from the blonde above, not caring how loud she was getting. She grabs your hair and makes a satisfying pull to your scalp that has you groaning into her cunt. You alternate between sucking, licking, sucking, licking. Your head is spinning as you prop yourself on your elbows, applying the pressure of two fingers dancing on her clit, your jaw feeling sore. Smiling at the cute, blissed-out expression on Abby’s face makes you want to be between her legs all night. 

“Are you close?” you ask, voice hoarse after not speaking for the last 3 minutes. Abby doesn't dare to open her eyes, knowing that if she makes eye contact with you, she’ll come too fast. She nods, eyebrows furrowed as she nibbles on her swollen bottom lip from the constant biting she does. You allow it this time, allowing Abby to take in the euphoric blooming in her stomach. You really shouldn’t, wishing you had prolonged her orgasm as a punishment for ghosting you and making you suffer every night. 

“Come for me, baby, yeah? Show me how bad you want this” Famous last words before you attached your mouth back onto her clit, switching your finger to easily slip into her. Pumping your index finger in a “come hither” motion, feeling her clench around you. 

“Fuck fuck, please, I’m coming. K-keep-ah-doing that,” She hisses as her body seizes, fingers gripping so good in your scalp. Strong thighs clamp around your head as you lazily lick at her rosy clit with a grin.

Who knew Abby could be so fucking needy?

a/n: heyyyyyyy, sorry i was on hiatus for a while. i suddenly got the motivation to write, so do what you will with this

[randomnameless]

For whatever reason, I was skimming 3 Hopes TV Tropes despite the controversial rep about the users editing Fodlan are.

I don’t whatever the person adding this was smoking, but it paints a rather “stereotypical” view on foreigners putting it lightly…

---

Eh, that’s Nopes in a nutshell for you, anon.

Sometimes you want to be progressive and depict “other” nations, only to fall back on Grandma’s guide to survive in the “Orient” from the 1810s.

Sometimes IS completely messes up with the message they want to tell (TFW Tellius’ woes originated from Lehran losing his powers when he fucked Altina, but hey, this game is totes anti racism we swear!) and sometimes, you have, well, Fodlan and its self-awareness (who cares about the war, let’s drink some tea and uwu about our cute students, plot be damned! Nabateans? What’s that, a new pastry?) and then, we have Nopes with Mr “those people are so backwards with their outdated values I’ll impose mine by raiding and pillaging their lands and killing their beloved pope whose only sin was to crash on their couch and to eat ice cream, because I hate her guts for some reason”.

That TV Tropers also seemed to have missed Shamir saying Dagda values more “freedom” than Fodlan, even if it means people are free to kill each other, and we are just left wondering what the actual fuck Nopes wanted to say, like, everyone out of Fodlan is a barbarian, per Grandma’s old handbook, or what?

Hell, at this rate I’m wondering if the writers weren’t so full of Hresvelg Grey that they suddenly wrote Brigid and Dagda to have “crap” values, to justify Adrestia periodically trying to conquer them...

“Fodlan should open its borders!”

Looks at Fodlan’s neighbours per Nopes : uh yeah. how about no.

[awearywritersworld]

"do you like me?" "nope."

gojo satoru x reader summary: even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever w/c: 1.1k tags/warnings: ft. yuuji and megumi. fluff. super light angst. lots of banter. a lil mutual pining. yuuji and gojo being chaotic. gender neutral reader. a/n: not sure how this turned out, but it was fun to write! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

"(l/n)-sensei!!"

you're trying to relax and really, fifteen minutes is all you want, but these days that seems impossible.

you turn your head toward the sparring field just in time to see yuuji fly into a tree about 30 yards away. megumi is already on the ground struggling to get up.

meanwhile gojo is prancing, literally prancing, in the opposite direction. you walk toward the group with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment playing across your features, all your hope for some peace and quiet crushed.

"that was awesome!" the pink haired boy shouts from amid a mess of leaves and branches.

gojo gushes over the praise, his hands pressing against his cheeks. "thank you, yuuji! it's nice to know someone around here appreciates my unmatched strength."

"i don't remember offering to be a part of the demonstration," megumi grumbles, finally rising to his feet.

his demeanor is less than pleased and you glance at him sympathetically before turning to gojo. "you do know that you're an adult, right? like, as in, a fully grown man."

"(y/n)-chaaaaan, you're always so mean to me," he whines, grabbing your hands dramatically. "what have i done to deserve such cruel treatment?"

"today or in general?" you pretend to think for a second. "i seem to remember you waking me up at seven this morning so that you didn't have to go to your meeting with masamichi-san alone-"

"he was mad at me for skipping the last one i had!"

"-and then you hid my phone for almost an hour because i wouldn't give you my last candy bar-"

"i was starving, (y/n)-chan! it wasn't my fault, you know that!"

"-and then you destroyed that tree, which i really happened to like by the way."

his gaze flickers toward that direction, the splintered wood a sad remnant of what it used to be, then throws his arms in the air. "this is so unfair!"

"(l/n)-sensei! did you see?" yuuji calls out, already fully recovered and bounding toward you.

"i sure did." you chuckle at his tattered clothes and unfazed attitude.

"what'd ya think?"

you really can't bring yourself to scold him, not with all the excitement in his voice. "oh, it was certainly something."

"did you hear that, gojo-sensei?" yuuji lights up.

megumi disguises his laugh with a cough. "i don't think that was a compliment."

the boy visibly deflates so you ruffle his hair. "it was pretty cool, i just don't want you getting hurt." that earns a grin, to your relief.

"so i get yelled at, but you're nice to him?" gojo pouts indignantly.

"yes."

"ugh! this is killing me, (y/n)-chan!" he announces before promptly knocking you to the ground, the action something between a hug and a tackle.

"gojo, get off of me!" you yell, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"i can't! not until you forgive me!"

your giggles ring through the air, music to gojo's ears, and your hands push him away as he tries to tickle your sides. you look like two kids, rolling around in the grass and shouting at one another.

yuuji leans in toward megumi, his voice hushed as if he's about to reveal the world's biggest secret. "i'm starting to think there's something going on between those two."

his friend looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "you're just now noticing?"

~~~

you're making dinner in your apartment while gojo sits on the kitchen floor, his legs splayed out and taking up nearly half of the small room. his blindfold had been discarded at one point or another, something he made a habit of doing when it was just the two of you.

"what are we having tonight, chef?"

"me? i'm having braised chicken thighs. i'm not sure about you though," you tease.

you didn't invite him to dinner, he just kind of followed you back to your place after sparring practice. you don't really mind, you never do, not that you'd ever admit it out loud.

"you wouldn't give me your candy bar and now you won't have dinner with me either? today is the worst! is this still about the tree? i told you i was sorry-"

"geez i was just kidding!" you cut him off. "of course you can have some, but only if you get the flour off the top shelf for me."

"i guess that's a fair trade," he reasons, rising to his feet lazily.

the cabinet is just to your left, so his body presses into yours as he reaches up, the contact making your heart flutter.

"thanks," you exhale when he sets it down within your reach.

he doesn't return to his sitting position, just leans against the counter and watches you carefully stir the ingredients in the pan.

"do you like me?" he inquires suddenly.

"nope."

"hm, do you like like me?" he suggests, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"gojo, that's honestly defamatory."

he rolls his eyes playfully. "c'mon, be serious."

"you be serious," you challenge the usually facetious man.

"i am."

resting your spoon on the pan, you turn to face him, unsure if he's just messing with you like always. the room is silent, save for the faint popping of oil, as he waits for you to say something.

"why do you wanna know?"

"'cause i like you, why else?"

your hands gather the fabric of your apron nervously, crumpling it between your fingers while you avoid his gaze. his words strike you as entirely implausible. after all, he's gojo and you're, well, you.

"you... you shouldn't joke about stuff like that."

he laughs at you and it breaks your heart a little, but then you feel two lithe hands on either side of your face. "(y/n), look at me."

you do, albeit apprehensively, and his eyes bore into your own with an intensity you aren't familiar with. it makes your knees feel weak. a smile tugs at his lips before they capture your own, the movement slow and soft.

your fingers reach up to wrap around his wrist, an attempt to steady yourself against him, before one of his hands travels down to your hip and gives it a light squeeze.

you taste so sweet, feel so perfect in his hands, that gojo kicks himself for waiting so long to kiss you. his lips move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, then begin to work their way up your jaw. he hums against your skin, satisfied with the breathy noises he's pulling from your throat.

then, the smell of burning invades your senses and you pull away from each other with wide eyes, exclaiming in unison. "the food!"

[s-4pphics]

A/N: me vs writing what i’m supposed to aka moth aka vampire possession aka anyway here’s post santa barbara angst don’t ask questions im not really sure LOL

“You’re back.” 

Determined hands freeze in the dirt, the freshly watered daisies glistening under the beaming sun rays. Your soiled fingers halt all movement at the soft acknowledgment from behind. A sigh leaves your lips. 

“… I am.” 

An exhausted one, and it’s not from your strenuous labor in the garden. Your body refuses to turn, but holes burn in your spine, leaving behind lasered streaks of green. 

“Can you look at me?” Ellie pleads gently. The softest you’ve heard her be in months. 

What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been back. For a week actually, hiding out in other people’s homes throughout Jackson, assisting in places where Ellie’s least likely to go. The garden in particular; Pollen makes her sneeze. 

Time is vital and interesting; Dina left her and Ellie’s farmhouse with her son when you fled Jackson. She sought you out, but you weren’t there. You spent most of your time alone, walking, running, killing what you had to. Searched for peace, internal and external. The sight of the waterfall was worth the months-long trip. Your home is different now. Eerily quiet. The kids you helped teached to read don't play outside or laugh as often anymore. You hardly see Tommy or Maria around. Jesse is dead. Joel is dead. Dina isolates with JJ. Hugs him like she’ll die if she lets go. 

Ellie’s forever changed. The town’s forever changed, and you’ve finally accepted that it’s for the worse. 

“Is listening not enough?” 

Cordiality is beyond you. Spite is evident. Even the flowers can feel it. 

You tried to be patient, to coddle, to mourn and aid and tend. Sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of hers. You tried, Dina tried, Tommy didn’t but he did at the same time. Oddly, destructively, but in his own way. You blame him and don’t. Hate him and don’t. He’s violently and permanently scorned, but so are you. So is Ellie. She says nothing from behind you. You rise with a pop in your knees and an upturned lip. 

When you face Ellie, your knees wobble. Scarred: emotionally, physically, mentally. Permanently. Her eyes are more breakable than glass, the shattered hand that displays defeat hid shamefully behind her back. But her cheeks are fuller, no longer the hollow vacancies they were before she left. Maria was always on her back about finishing her meals. 

Grief is complicated. Hurt. Anger. The flowers wilt. Listening isn’t enough, and neither is sacrifice.

Ellie’s nose always twitches when she thinks. Your heart gives a sporadic pulse, but not enough to revive the shell you're trapped in. 

“I don’t want an apology from you.” 

She shakes her head, “I know.” 

“Then why are we talking?” 

Another twitch of her nose. She searches for something. “I—“

But then she flinches away from you, a bent arm coming up to cover her nose and mouth when she sneezes. A painful jerk thrums through your chest, but still not enough. 

“Bless you.” 

One more sneeze, but softer. A bit squeaky. Remnant of when you first met her at 13 and she followed you out to the greenhouse to watch you water the orange trees. 

“Thanks.” 

You nod stiffly. When she doesn’t say anything, you move to leave. Your work is done and she knows you’re back; There’s no point in being alone with her. 

Ellie doesn’t follow, but she does speak. 

“I’m trying.” 

You pause, one foot in front of the other. A doe learning how to walk for the first time. 

“I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be okay but it’s not working.” Her voice trembles.

You weren’t expecting a confession. Normal. An interesting use of the word. No one feels that anymore. 

“It probably won’t for a long time.” You state, just as quietly as she, “But if you stop trying, you’ll rot from the inside. If that’s what you want, then fine. But if not… That's all you can do now.” 

“Will we ever be okay?” 

‘We’ means many. ‘We’ means two. Your back’s to Ellie, but you can see her. Unmoving, but frantic. Her mind cranks at a million miles a minute. You feel her eyes on you. Too familiar. 

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You take one last look at her before you walk away. 

Flowers never look the same the next day. 

[lokischocolatefountain]

Monster

Fandom: The Last of Us

Characters: young!Joel Miller & tiny!Sarah Miller

Rating: tooth rotting fluff, diabetics DNI

Note: I saw this post and it single-handedly broke my writers block so here you go. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“That’s not a thing, babygirl.”

“No! Julie told me it’s real. Her daddy checks every night,” Sarah said with too much vigor for someone the size of a pillow.

“Oh well since Julie said so…” he rolled his eyes but caved, walking back into her bedroom and lying on his back under the bed.

“Let’s see these monsters your wise little buddy told you about,” he said, shining the flashlight she brought before dragging him for the monster inspection.

“Monster?” He sang, playing along even though she couldn’t see his face. “I can’t see anything but I’ll look harder.”

“Is it there?” She asked after only a couple of seconds.

“Stay right there, honey. I think I see something.”

“What do you see?” She squeaked out.

“Shhh, don’t alert the monster,” he said waiting a moment to talk to the definitely real monster he definitely saw.

“Hey Mister Monster. I’m Joel. How are you doing?”

He held his hand over his mouth, a laugh threatening to escape at his own plot to entertain himself at his kid’s expense.

“Oh? I didn’t know. I’m so sorry about her Mister Monster. I’ll tell her. Yeah. Yeah. You have a good night, Sir.”

He straightened his smile and emerged from underneath the bed. She suckled on her thumb, a remnant from an earlier stage that crept in when she was afraid or sad. Big beady eyes stared at him anxious to know about this monster.

“So, you were right.” She looooved being right. “There is a monster but he’s not going to hurt you.”

“Did you talk to him?”

He settled down next to her on the little bed and picked her up, seating her on his lap.

“I did. And he said he’s just a little monster who won’t hurt anyone. But he said there’s a bigger monster in this room.”

Her eyes bulged out comically and her little hands grabbed onto his t-shirt for dear life. “He said it’s not under the bed. It’s on the bed.”

She gasped, her little mouth open like a goldfish, plump little cheeks on either side. “He said it wears sparkly purple shoes and it’s tiny and causes so much trouble.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It throws toys all over the house and doesn’t get dressed on time for daycare. And it jumps on the bed really hard so the poor monster under the bed is very very afraid.”

Her face scrunched up and her eyes narrowed at him. Someone was catching on…

“I met the monster’s dad and he said the little monster always asks him to check above the bed for the jumpy monster.”

“You’re talking about me!” She squealed, making him laugh.

“Am I? Nah! The monster said that jumpy monster has two little buns on her hair. You don’t have that,” he said, rubbing the purple bonnet on her head. It was always purple with his girl.

“Daddyyy!” She whined in protest, pulling the bonnet off her head to reveal the little buns on either side of her head. “You’re talking about me!”

He mock gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “Babygirl, you’ve been scaring the monsters under the bed.”

“I’m not a monster!”

“You are. Daddy’s the tickle monster, remember? So you’re my little monster,” he said, covering her face in kisses. She giggled, all the fear draining from her features as she kicked her legs about. He stopped when she told him yet picked her up from her bed.

A little tickle wouldn’t be enough. Even if it was, he didn’t want to risk her lying awake and alone worrying about monsters under her bed.

“You should let the monsters sleep peacefully under the bed. Just tonight. Wanna sleep in the big bed with me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her buns bouncing on her head as she nodded enthusiastically.

“Bye bye, monsters,” he said as he switched the lights off.

“Bye bye, monsters,” she parroted, waving towards her bed.

“Daddy, can you read me a story?”

“I already read to you tonight, remember?”

“It doesn’t count. Because I’m not sleeping in my bed. New bed, new story.”

“The tickle monster is not going to be happy about that,” he said showering her with more kisses. Her giggles filled the hallway and his room. He pretended to bite her cheek, claiming the tickle monster had to eat. And when he tired her out with the jokes, she fell asleep on his chest, his heart heavy from the realization that one day she wouldn’t be tiny enough to do this.

[fanaticsnail]

Quick! Kiss, marry, kill extreme edition: between Killer, Corazon and Beckman

You are cruel. Cruel, Anon. Why would you wound me like this? There is no "Quick" about this. I'm gonna stare and cry into the screen while I make this horrible decision.

Kiss, Marry, Kill

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 820+, 840+, 880+

Synopsis: Kiss, Marry, Kill between Killer, Corazon and Beckman.

Themes: Killer x reader, Rosinante x reader, Beckman x reader. All individual x reader. These are the only ways I can see this playing out, angst, hurt, crying, grieving, mourning, no happy ending.

Notes: If you're gonna make me cry, I'm gonna (try to) make you cry with me because I refuse to go through this alone. If this is the first time coming across my work and wondering what these three have in common: I adore these characters, they are my favorites to think and write about. This anon knows this, and wants me to suffer.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Kiss: Massacre Soldier Killer

After the heat of battle died down, you checked amongst the dust and rubble for your crew. Coughing and spluttering in the chaos, you manage to spy the lengthy mane of your first mate lying beside an array of fallen enemies.

His mask lay chipped beside him, revealing his face to those surrounding. Although his brows are knit down and grimacing in pain: the smile-smile fruit plasters a false and unnerving grin over his lips.

"Kil?" you call to him, your eyes beginning to swell with glassy tears. He makes no sound, his lips beginning to twitch and quiver a silent laugh. "Kil!" your legs pick up speed, only dropping to your knees beside him and caressing his cheeks to rouse him from his unconsciousness.

He mumbled something from his smile that you don't quite pick up. Eyes fluttering open, a soft quivering laugh begins to stutter through his lips. The laughter quickly grew, his eyes meeting yours for the first time without the shield of his mask to hide him.

The expression he held behind his icy blue eyes were a plea. He was begging you to understand his laughter was not deliberate. His lips continued to twitch, and the high pitch squeak continued to grow more and more. Your brows peaked in the center of your forehead as your hands caressed his cheeks and soothed over his face.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," you soothe him, moving your hands from his cheeks to his forehead. Caressing his head, you draw your head towards him. He hastily hooks his arms over your shoulders and tugs you in for a strong embrace while sitting up.

Pulling him in towards you, you're almost forced to sit in his lap to continue caring for him in his manic state. His eyes begin to spill, his sobs ill-reflected in his shrieking laughter. He attempted to bury his lips into your neck to hide his shrill laugh to no avail.

"It's all okay, Kil," your warm tone reassures him as you reach beside him for his mask. All he does is hold you closer, fists balling your shirt at your back and holding you stationary.

Instinctively, you press your lips to the crown of his tangled blonde hair and mutter into his hair your praises as reassurances. His laugh grows more manic as his tears dampen your shirt.

You draw your lips away from his hair and quickly scout the surroundings for any more of your comrades. No remnants of the Kid-Pirates were in the area around you; a fact you reassured Killer of as you pressed your lips against his golden mane.

"It's just us here, big guy," your voice whispers against his hair, "Don't worry about the others seeing your beautiful face and hearing your laugh. It's okay." you press another kiss against his head, "It's just me and you."

He leans into your touch, his breathing evening out with each passing moment. With a shaky inhale, he whimpers another unintended laugh before gazing up into your eyes. Finally coming down from his anguish, his smile remains behind and his lips curl into an unnatural expression in contrast to his sorrow-filled eyes.

You felt every emotion he was experiencing down to your very core. He was in a state beyond anguish, as you were yourself. Your crew were missing, both of you not coming away unscathed from the fight, but relieved in being within each other's embrace.

Pulling the mask from your hand, he hastily pats the mask over his face to shield any more of his involuntary laughter from releasing from his lips and fleeing into the air. Taking a moment to crack his neck to the side and shake off his prior emotions, he rises to his feet and carefully places you on the ground beside him.

"Thank you," he whispers with a soft utterance of your name, nodding with his respect, "We should talk after we find the rest of us. I-... I want to talk about this." Nodding in response, you both readied yourself for the tireless journey of seeking out the rest of your crew, not knowing whether they were alive or dead.

Killer's mind was racing. The moment Kid was flung away from him to the side of the cliff-face, he flew into a wild rage. He had no idea the atrocities he committed until he felt your gentle touch and your lips on his hair. Grounding himself against your gentle expression of compassion, he finally felt the emotions he had repressed for so long.

Massacre Soldier Killer was in love with you. He had hoped to have the final push to confess his feelings and reveal his face under different circumstances, but some things were meant to happen. He will tell you soon, reassuring himself as he trekked along beside you towards your fallen and unconscious captain.

Soon will come sooner than he thinks.

Marry: Donquixote Rosinante

The meeting was not going at all the way Rosinante planned it. There was a lot of that going around lately, things not quite going the way he planned for it to go. He was a marine spy hiding amongst the predatory Donquixote pirates. He should’ve planned it better.

One such thing he didn’t plan on was falling in love with: his brother’s personal assistant and closest confidant. He thought you were beautiful, sure enough. He thought you were intelligent, absolutely. He had hoped you might enjoy his presence enough to want more of it: seeking you out and writing on his note paper to express as much.

And then you said “yes.” 

The “yes” sealed his fate, his heart exploding and wanting to pour all his love and doting attention into you. The first night you shared together felt as if you were born for each other, bouncing rapport through wordless communication as he flirted with his kind words and gentle touch. 

His touch was like a gentle brush of feathers he adorned on the back of his onyx coat. This touch lead to further, your limbs becoming entangled and lips joining together in an expression of lust and love. He claimed you as his, and you claimed him as yours. 

Another such thing he didn’t plan on was his brother finding out about it. Donquixote Doflamingo never once enjoyed sharing his things. Not even in childhood would he share his toys, his wardrobe, or his favorite snacks. 

His assistant was no different. As soon as Doflamingo, the king of Dressrosa, saw how friendly his Corazon was with his assistant, he knew he had to act fast. 

“I have decided there needs to be a wedding in Dressrosa,” Doflamingo smirked with his rosy glasses glinting in the light, “And I think my beautiful assistant should be at the end of the aisle.” His grin only grew as Rosinante’s lips parted in shock. 

You were not present in this meeting, being called away to fulfill some meaningless task that was urgent, according to your boss. Rosinante now understood what cruel fate Doflamingo had in store for you, but his intentionally withheld voice could utter nothing to stop it. 

“Although, I’m having a little bit of trouble deciding on who the partner should be,” Doflamingo slouched back into his throne at the end of the table. His eyes were shielded, but Rosinante knew he was glaring directly at him. He reached for his wine glass, shepherding it up to his lips and taking a small sip. 

“I was almost thinking of marrying them myself,” he suggested with an arched brow, “A wedding fit for a king.” The Donquixote pirates leaned in towards Doflamingo with interest as the king of Dressrosa continued to stare directly into his brother’s face.

“Unless,” he sneered up at his brother, “There is another here who would like to hear the pretty noises they make when ravished in the marriage bed.” Doflamingo leans forward, watching as Rosinante finally gives in and scribbles on the note paper in front of him. Rosinante’s face was furious, his eyes holding the fury while his lips curled back into a snarl. 

“If a wedding is what you desire, brother,” Rosinante’s fine cursive scrolled messily over the page, “The other person meeting them at the end of the aisle will be me.” Doflamingo’s smile only grew wider at his brother’s claim finally being met. 

“Do you not like the thought of me laying with them, little brother?” Doflamingo snickered, arising a low hissed chuckle to ricochet amongst the others present. Rosinante scribbled harshly at the end of his page. 

“Me,” was underlined and circled twelve times, his eyes pleading with his brother to end the taunt and accept his claim over you. Doflamingo huffed out a curt hum in response, a short nod being the smallest notion of acceptance of the unity.

“Congratulations, little brother. It seems you are the only one here that would see my dreams of a wedding become a reality,” Doflamingo raised his wine glass, nodding to the rest of the room to lift their glasses. They all raised their vessels to the air, cheering alongside Doflamingo as Rosinante had no choice but to do the same. 

Just as Doflamingo pressed the glass to his bottom lip, he looked over his glasses and offered his brother a final word to seal his fate. 

“I look forward to claiming my right as king of prima nocta, brother,” he growled suggestively over the glass, “And I hope you enjoy the show I’ll make of such an intimate feat.” 

Another oversight Rosinante did not anticipate: his brother’s desire to be cruel in all aspects and areas. He should not expect any less regarding you. Hopefully before this horror will have the chance to come to pass, he will fulfill his task of locating the ope-ope no mi and shepherd you away from this cruel fate.

If not, he only hopes you could forgive him for what was awaiting you in the marriage suite after the nuptials. 

Kill: Benn Beckman

Facing the damp, wooden walls within the brig was not how you thought you would be spending your evening. Especially not with the person lurking behind you and burning a hole into your back with his searing gaze. Without making eye contact with him, you knew exactly the grimace awaiting you should you spare a glance over your shoulder. 

“Not even gonna say a word, are you?” the man growled behind you, his chains rattling with his sharp movement. You closed your eyes and gulped back your inhibitions. Silence was all that met him, your career as a marine meaning far more to you than responding to his taunt. 

Although it was only the two of you down here, you refused to acknowledge him as he prowled behind you in an angry pace. The chains at his ankles rang with each thudded bootstep. Squaring your shoulders, you chose to fix your posture and spare him no utterance of your voice. 

“Talk to me!” he barked at you, his tone almost causing you to jump, “You owe me that much, at the very least!” You scrunch your eyes tightly shut, your lip almost quivering as you hardened your heart and stifled a rising choke in your throat. 

“Please,” he whispered, his body sounding much closer than it should from behind you. You inhaled deeply, your emotions finally spilling over in the form of a shaken exhale. He noticed that small change in tone, reaching through the bars and allowing his coarse hands to brush against your shoulder. 

“Please, my darling,” he whispered, gently smoothing over your shoulder and caressing your uniformed arms, “Please talk to me. That’s all I want.” He slowly traced his fingers down to your forearm and slotted his hand within yours. 

Hanging your head, you returned his gentle touch by grasping his hand firmly within yours. Your tears fell freely from your eyes, your shoulders shaking and lips quivering as you grieved for the man behind you.

The man you, a marine, had loved. 

Your story was the tale of a forbidden infatuation. As the firstborn of an admiral, your fate had been sealed for you from the moment you took your first breath. You were to become the next of your family to serve the world government and rid the world of the plague of piracy. 

But you had fallen hard for the enemy. 

“Once upon a time,” your voice whispered above your whimpered hum, “There were two young lovers who could never be.” His breath hitched, his hand gripping yours a little firmer and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“One was a gunslinging pirate,” he whispered the practiced tale back to you, “The other was a sword-wielding marine.” You nodded, your head still hanging as you turned to the side. Not yet making eye contact, you continued your tale.

“They snuck behind the admiral’s back, hoping to not get caught within the thralls of passion,” you softly smiled at the memory, his own smile falling into a deep hum. He chased your gaze by angling his head down at you. 

“And their lengthy tryst blossomed into a hidden courtship,” he whispered, his gray orbs softening as he sought out your dampening eyelashes. He sighed at the sight of how truly hurt you were and continued on, “The pirate would leave the marine trinkets from travels in distant lands.”

“And the marine would restock the pirate with seastone bullets from the marine’s artillery,” you sniffed back your growing sob. “And then, their tale came to a close for several years. And-... And the pirate-...” you sobbed, your shoulders shaking, “...The pirate’s bounty changed.” 

Benn Beckman finally broke, his forehead resting against the iron bars and attempting to be as close to you as he could. He continued the tale in a voice lower than a whisper, and sweetened his tone to soften the blow.

“...And now the pirate is bound for the gallows,” his teeth chattered with his confirmation, his heart jumping to his chest as he uttered, “And the marine from once upon a time-...” He couldn’t finish the words, his heart shattering with every soft moment.

“The marine was-,” your breath hitched, as you turned to face your long-lost lover as he broke his hard exterior. His eyes were swelling with glassy tears, his lip beginning to quiver as he finally saw your face after so long apart. Reaching up, he caressed your tear-stained cheek and cupped your face within his palm.

“His marine was,” you whispered, dancing your focus between his two eyes as another tear spilled over your lash-line, “The one forced to tie his noose.”

You lingered in this moment together, both mourning the fate sealed for one another. You always knew this was a possibility for your youthful romance, but you could never anticipate the pain it would cause the other. 

Beckman thumbed over your cheek, gritting his teeth and swallowing his resolve. He leaned his face between the bars and softly spoke, with his tone only holding love and tenderness.

“I forgive you,” he darted his eyes between yours as his own tears spilled from his eyes. You reached between the bars, offering him the world on the tip of your tongue.

“I love you.”

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii i love your work, for blurb night I was wondering if you could write something about babysitting someone’s kids with one of the drivers and someone in public mistakes you for parents bc they are unaware of you the driver is and you guys look like a cute family. It’s okay if not. Thank you in advance !!!!

Note: I have the biggest baby fever right now and I saw many cute videos that had Lando with kids, and I can't stop thinking about them, but since I have written a lot for him today, I'm doing Charles. For the plot of this, I gave him a niece, so let's pretend Charlotte and Lorenzo had a kid!

"Don't you look cute in that hat, Céline?", you cooed as you made sure it covered her head properly and that is wasn't too tight around her neck.

Charlotte and Lorenzo once joked about how the ideal Christmas present for them would be someone willing to look after their daughter for a few days as they took the time to have a little trip to enjoy just the two of them. You and Charles, however, weren't joking when you said you'd happily take Céline for the week while they recharged their batteries. Today, since it was sunny, you and Charles decided it would be nice to go to the park.

"Let's go, then!", Charles cheered, pulling the stroller closer to you so you could strap her in safely before you left your place.

"We are going to see the duckies - do you like duckies, Céline? And we can just sit in there and make some flowers bracelets, too, auntie Y/N will teach us", Charles spoke as you walked to the park, a few people noticing him but thankfully not making a big scene out of it.

"I keep thinking about the ice cream parlour, hopefully they gave my favourite", you admitted, kissing his cheek, "but the duckies are a great selling point, too", you winked.

You had been sitting near the benches for a little while, flower chain bracelets already done as Céline started getting hungry, "how about I go get your ice cream and you start on her yogurt?", Charles suggested, kissing the top of your head and tickling the little girl's tummy before heading to the shop.

"That was a big one, baby girl!", you cooed as Céline ate all of the yogurt on the spoon, cleaning the remnants on her lips with the spoon before going back in on the pot when you were interrupted, "I'm sorry, dear", a female voice called.

Turning around, you saw a beautiful older woman, you guessed around her seventies, "this fell from your husband's pocket, and I bet your daughter would miss it soon", she said as she handed you the small stuffed toy Céline loved so much.

"Thank you so much, neither of us noticed and she would have made a fuss if we didn't have it back home", you smiled, "but we're not-", you were interrupted again by Céline's squeal when she saw Charles come back.

"Here's your ice cream, amour", Charles said as the lady smiled, "I was just bringing your daughter's toy back - it slipped from your pocket", she explained, sensing Charles' curiosity about her presence.

"Merci - can you say Merci, Céline?", he tried as the little girl babbled something that resembled the word.

"Enjoy them when they're this young, times truly flies by! You have such a beautiful family", she complimented before waving the three of you goodbye, joining who you presumed was her husband as they walked out of the park hand in hand.

"I tried correcting her but then you showed up", you said, "we are family, though", Charles reasoned, taking a spoonful of your ice-cream, "but I know what you mean. She's not wrong though, we look like a cute little family", he smiled.

"One day", you smiled, "one day, amour, we're going to have a little one of our own to squish a fill with love, won't we Céline? Do you want little cousins to play with?", he said as he took her into his lap, boucing her on his knee as she giggled loudly.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[thewertsearch]

He asks if you have a good winter hat. You nearly drop the radio in excitement.

Dave’s on his way too, so they can all play in the snow together.

Plus, Jade'll get to reunite with her 'grandson's' bunny, and we might finally get some movement on that plotline.

You wonder if it will always be like this. What sort of future does a new god have to look forward to? Will this malaise follow you for eternity? Will you be perpetually tempted to destroy everything you see, knowing that in just a few moments of recklessness, you will be left with nothing else to destroy forever? What will eternity feel like when a single moment of boredom feels like an eternity unto itself?

Some introspection here from the Sovereign Slayer, as Noir seems dimly aware that he’s under some sort of compulsion. He was created to be a violent murderer, and he's programmed to play that role in every session – which is fine by him.

But he was never meant to be a superboss. For hours now, he’s been operating entirely outside his normal parameters. He's wielding a power transcending this and every session, but he's stuck with the programming of a mid-level NPC. He's built to kill, as usual - but his destructive potential is too great, and he's killing too much, too fast.

There’s a mismatch here, and he can feel it.

You wish you could consult the clouds for answers. But they never show you anything.

More evidence that only Prospit-aligned beings can use Skaia's clouds.

Sorry, Jack. They're not for you.

You are now future Jack Noir. Presently, you are trapped in a single moment, which increasingly feels like an eternity. Your boredom is surpassed only by your all consuming rage and contempt for existence itself.

There's that bloody arm again, and it might be time to talk about it.

Now, technically, it could have come from almost anyone in the kids' session. The Carapacians all have red blood - but the thing is, all the notable Carapacians will escape the session safely. I think it's a pretty safe bet that the blood belongs to to one of the four kids - so who's our most likely target?

Well...

John was unharmed immediately before the Scratch, but that doesn’t preclude Jack from attacking him during its activation. It feels narratively climactic for the kids' semi-official leader to be mortally wounded while saving the session, and I think there's a decent chance that something like this will go down in the Act 5 finale.

Rose, of course, is soon to fall into the Blackout. I've been speculating that it could potentially hide her from Jack, but it's also possible that he could cause it himself. If he does attack her, she might be compelled to use more of the Horrorterrors’ power than she can control - and I can see that going south fast.

Dave's tied up in several days' worth of time loops, and it'd be hard to take him by surprise. We've probably heard from versions of Future Dave who know what caused the blood, and I think if he was about to be maimed, he'd be a lot more on-edge. Dave tries to hide his nerves, but he's not actually that good at it.

Jade can’t be harmed by Jack, which makes her the most interesting choice of all. I don't know how Jack could conquer the remnants of Becsprite in his heart - but if he does, we'll have lost the biggest advantage we have.

I'm honestly not sure. Right now, I think John's the most likely target - but not by much. Really, it could really be anyone.

[chouettecrivaine]

Ah, Young Love! [Our Life: Now & Forever]

Fandom: Our Life: Now & Forever

Characters: Qiu Lin, Tamarack Baumann

Notes: takes place during Step 1, so he/him is used for Qiu as that is how he identifies at this point in the story!

So anyway I'm obsessed with how everybody wants Qiu but Qiu only has eyes for MC once they meet so I'm thinking about his silly little boyhood crush. And then I couldn't leave best girl Tamarack out of the love fest so here's just a few little things I was thinking about with them having childhood crushes on u <3

Note that only the demo is publicly available and I am not currently a patron so anything here that is proven true is coincidence and anything proven false is just me having a little fun

Qiu Lin

So like. I've seen Qiu call you pretty twice in the demo. Once when you meet him if you choose to call him pretty first, and again towards the end of what's available in the demo when he's listing off reasons why you should be allowed to join the club..

I just think that whenever he talks about you he always has to let it slip that he thinks you're cute. "They had on a really nice hair clip today!" "Their hair looked so cute when they took off their hat at school." "When I picked them up to walk to school, I was so surprised at how pretty they looked!"

When he told his parents about you he probably said "this really pretty kid surprised me in our yard and we went on a miniature adventure!"

Also (and note that my MC uses she/her so im gonna quote him using gendered terms but only for this one instance) When he's introducing you to one of his friends, he starts off with your name and says "she's a girl!" (Or whatever terms you have set)

So I just think he says the most basic facts about you with so much awe and wonder 🥺 like you wore overalls to school? He talks like you invented denim. You had a funny comment or joke? It's like he's never heard one before in his life when he retells it.

I feel like…the first thing that makes him interested in you is that you're new. Not only does this make you fun to mess with, but it makes you far more interesting than the people he's known his whole life. Plus you, unlike Tamarack, don't immediately brush off the cool things he wants to show you or do with you if it isn't immediately your cup of tea.

Darren and Baxter are sick and tired of hearing your name !! If you're not around Qiu wonders aloud at least once if he should or should've invite(d) you. If he did invite you and you had to decline, then he wonders what you're doing.

The type of kid to skip out on his weekend chores at home and go to your house to help you unpack instead

Ok so MC says they used to live in an apartment, right? Probably in the city? And MC was only allowed to play on their own because Golden Grove is "a safe neighborhood?" What if MC doesn't know how to ride a bike. What if Qiu teaches them…

Whether you get a hang of it or not, he daydreams about doing that thing where he rides the bike and you sit backwards on the seat or on the handlebars or something

When he finds out you can't ride a bike, he definitely shows off by riding around without his hands on the handlebars.

Will teach you how to jump off the swing set too, then will have competitions over who can swing the highest and leap the farthest

I feel like Golden Grove has a cute little main street with a bunch of locally owned shops. If you're interested, he'll show you every. single. business. Even if most of them are "granny shops" he isn't interested in. He'll let you poke around for a bit :)

He has a special page in his notebook for all the little notes and doodles about you

If you look closely at the note he gives you after class, you can see the remnants of a few tiny little hearts that he erased!!

Going back to him offering you to ride on his bike: he probably got you in trouble once because you were on your front lawn and he rode up asking you to go on an adventure with him on his bike. You're expecting a fun little 20 min ride through the walkable path in the woods that'll have you back home by dinner. Instead he takes you to town and buys you ice cream and the two of you have to struggle your way back up the hill on foot and it takes like an hour and a half to get back and your mom was worried SICK

Buys a pack of pens with one/some of your favorite color(s) and writes you notes exclusively in that/those ink(s)

If you and your mom go somewhere and he knocks on your door while you're out, you will come home to see him sitting on the steps to your front porch and waiting for you

Before class starts, he always gives you a funny face or a wave. If you come in late because of a doctor's appointment or something, naturally a lot of the kids turn to look at your entrance, and he immediately waves at you. Maybe even says hi to you out loud if he knows Mrs. Murray is in a good mood / he can get away with it.

If he finishes his work early or something, he'll turn around in his seat and just watch you from across the room with major heart eyes. He smiles wider and waves when you notice.

Anything you compliment him on, he immediately draws attention to around others. Say his hair looks good today? He'll hit you with a "oh but not every other day?" but then tell his seatmates about what you said.

Buys extra portions of his little snack bags of chips and candy or whatever he likes when he can so that he can give them to you during lunch.

Gets on a kick and will pester you about having a secret handshake until you let him come up with one. He likes having special things just you and him 🥺

Probably invites you to his hideout at a specific time and day every week and he gets soooooo excited for that time to roll around.

Tries extra hard in your favorite subject, even if it's one he hates. He's not trying to be top of the class, but he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about something you care about!

If you like a class he's terrible at, he'll ask for your help! Or, if you struggle in a class he's good at, he'll volunteer to help you out even though he HATES the concept of doing extra schoolwork. That's how much he likes u

He'll do this with any windows but especially if one of your bedroom windows faces his: he will definitely pull a Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me" and write notes for you guys to read to each other

Since he can't sit with you, he'll write you notes or make you doodles and then pretend he has to get up to sharpen his pencil so he can pass your desk and slip it to you

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack will straight up just stare at you 👁👁

She follows you around like a lost puppy and visibly brightens up when you're around

Looks forward to school because she gets to sit next to you all day! Like she'll skip happily along the path with you and Qiu and you'll ask her if she's looking forward to all these things and she'll just go "No!" and when you finally give up and ask why she says "because I get to spend the whole day next to you!"

When she goes to play in the woods, sometimes she'll spend a while in the shallower end of the tree line waiting to see if you'll come outside and play with her

Has definitely thrown sticks and pebbles at your back door to lure you out before she gets bored

Likes to go around and pick up the coolest rock, the prettiest flower, the biggest piece of tree bark, a leaf the size of her head…then before she goes home for the night, she stops by your house and gives what she picked up to you!!

If you're not home then she leaves it on your porch with a note, usually held down by a rock if it's not something heavy 

She'll be over the moon if you give her cool rocks and stuff you found. Even if you're literally giving her trash, like if you ONLY give her bottle caps or pop tabs you find on the sidewalk, she cherishes them. Would make jewelry out of them tbh

Ok so quick tangent but there's a book I read in about 4th grade called Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and in it the love interest girl is the quirky type. One thing she has is a little decorative cart on her dresser which she puts rocks in every time she's happy and takes rocks out when she's sad. When the protag goes to her house and finds out, she explains how she has put the most rocks in it since meeting him. They kiss sometime after that and she puts another rock in and tells him about it. I think Tamarack would have a jar or a doll house bathtub and she would do the same thing, putting rocks in it when she's happy! So what I'm saying is give her plenty of rocks so she can exclusively use MC rocks for that 

Also will make matching jewelry for the two of you without even stopping to think if you even wear what she's making. She'll buy kits to make special rings and headbands, braid a million friendship bracelets out of multicolored string, use acorns she found to make earrings…anything! She is just as happy if you wear it then she is if you buy a jewelry display stand and show them off in your room. Eventually she adds keychains into the mix for some variety

Doesn't mean to spend a lot of her time waiting on you but she does. On weekends, instead of going directly into the woods, she'll just lie on her back in her yard and stare up at the clouds, completely still, daydreaming (about you) until she hears your door opening. Then she runs to you.

If any of your windows are open, particularly your bedroom window, she'll send a bunch of paper airplanes your way. Most of them make it! However, you've learned that if you find even one paper airplane inside, you're going to have to check that side of the house for more scattered on the ground

Grips onto your arms or your clothes whenever she can. You two are connected.

Makes a BIG effort to like anything that you like as much as you do! And when she follows you around, it doesn't really matter if you're doing something she doesn't care about. She just wants to spend time with you! It does make her whole week if you follow her into the woods, though.

She doesn't take notes in class, but you leave a writing implement out for her and sometimes she'll reach over and doodle a cute bear or something on your paper :)

If you say you're cold, she'll give you her scarf, no questions asked. Is also down to share but don't let her do that while you're walking because it WILL end badly 

Has wrapped the scarf around the two of you and tied you guys together before and yes it was the best recess of her life 

When walking, she tends to lean into you which sometimes almost turns into pushing you and Qiu into the road if you're not careful

Likes to drag you around places and pretty quickly invites you to her house. She doesn't tell her grandparents that she's inviting you over, so they're surprised by you almost every time, but they don't mind! She's dragging you up the stairs to her room too quickly for them to say anything anyway

[littlejuicebox]

Beach babies.

Man oh man Dadstarion! My mind could probably come up with a thousand scenarios for this theme.

This one might make you all cry. But like, happy tears? Maybe?

Summary: It’s a day at the beach with toddler Gale, pregnant Tav, and Dadstarion. Gale loves his Papa and always wants to look just like him; this presents a problem.

Tags/Warnings: fluff, light mentions of Astarion ptsd/trauma, in game spoilers, kids, parenthood, toddlers, pregnancy, light angst w comfort, comment if you see anything else I’m missing

*

Astarion didn’t particularly enjoy the beach. It was often crowded, feeling coarse grains of sand stuck between his toes unnerved him, and it was impossible to find a good vintage for miles unless you brought it yourself.

Which, today, he did.

“Loving the sun and loving the beach are two different things, entirely, my sweet.” The elf drawls as he takes a sip of wine from his goblet.

You, Astarion, and almost-three-year old Gale are all sitting on a woven blanket inside a rather ostentatious canopy tent, taking a respite from playing in the water with the toddler. The canopy had been Astarion’s choice — he’d refused to have any beach days without it this year. As it was Gale’s last summer as an only child, and your first born adored the beach, you’d reluctantly agreed to the ridiculous shelter in exchange for two more planned beach days on behalf of your toddler.

Astarion remarked that perhaps you should have used your strong negotiation skills rather than your community service as the main focus of your political platform all those years ago.

And then you won the familial negotiation. Though you still think your old camp tent would have sufficed just fine.

You sigh at your husband, “I suppose. But I seem to remember you being quite content with rolling around in the dirt once upon a time.”

You’re watching Gale as he scoops sand into a bucket. His face is covered in the remnants of fruit juice from his lunch, and his little silver curls are bouncing around in the wind. He’s wearing a thin, white cotton shirt and striped cotton swim trousers — the outfit is basically a child’s version of your husband’s.

Daddy and his mini-me.

Astarion chuckles, “Yes, well… we didn’t have much choice in the matter back then, did we, little love. And for the thousandth time, I did have a blanket set up in that clearing—“

“I never saw it!” You interject, “So for all I know, you’ve simply decided to tell me that to cover your ah— butt.”

A huff from your husband as he rolls his eyes at you, “My love, have I ever lied to you?”

Your eyes narrow, and you open your mouth, about to retort when the elf catches his mistake and is quick to amend his statement.

“Have I ever lied to you after our talk at Moonrise Towers all those years ago?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly, convinced he’s proven his point.

You pause as your mind plays through years of memories. And then you grin playfully, “Yes! The night you proposed and told me you found those gold coins on the dock.”

The elf scoffs incredulously, “You are a pain in the ah— butt. You know what I mean, Tav. Have I ever lied to you to intentionally hurt or manipulate you since then? Or to gain your favor?”

You chuckle and turn yourself slightly — it’s no easy feat, given the size of your pregnant stomach — moving to peck your husband on the cheek, “No, my love. I don’t suppose you have.”

Astarion hums happily as he finishes off his goblet, “Very well then, dear. I trust that means you believe me when I say I did have a blanket in that clearing and you simply couldn’t keep your hands—“

“Mommy! I too hot!” Gale suddenly cries.

When the two of you turn to acknowledge the toddler, he’s thrown his shovel and started thrashing his feet, kicking up grains of sand in the process.

Today was sweltering in comparison to the other days you’d spent at the beach. The canopy was unable to protect all three of you from the worst of the mid afternoon heat.

You sigh and hold your hand out to the toddler, “Gale, come here and let mommy take your shirt off. It’s too hot to be—“

“NO!” The little boy shrieks before standing up and stomping on the sand castle he’d just spent several minutes building, “I want look like daddy!”

“My love, you and daddy will still be in matching pants even if your shirt is off.” You coo, hoping your voice will soothe Gale, though you know the logic is far beyond what an almost-three-year old can understand.

Astarion does not take his shirt off in public. He hasn’t since your days in camp all those years ago, when it had been an unfortunate necessity from time to time. But he always hated it.

His scars are not something Astarion is particularly fond of revealing; even your former campmates have never caught sight of his back since the old days. You know as much. So your only choice, really, is to try and reason with the child.

It’s not working.

Gale is crying now, and his growing frustration is quickly making him overheated. His face and body are both turning red as he wails. Despite the magic dampener around his neck, you both know there will soon be a gust of wind knocking the entire tent down if he isn’t soothed.

“Gale, darling, won’t you please let mommy—“

You’re cut off by a shrill scream. The toddler becomes more red; large patches of crimson are splotched across his face and arms. The breeze is starting to pick up quite suspiciously. It won’t be much longer before—

“Look, Gale! Look at daddy!” Your husband exclaims, and when you glance to the side, you see that Astarion has willingly ripped off his own shirt. The muscle feathering in his jaw shows his discomfort, despite the fact the tent is shielding his back from any potential onlookers.

This catches the little boy’s attention. His green eyes snap open and he begins to relax as he examines his father and realizes the older man is, in fact, shirtless. Gale giggles and then tries to rip his own shirt off, though it gets caught around his neck and Astarion has to lean forward to help him.

The toddler grins at his father, “We match ‘gain, daddy!”

And then he’s back to playing in the sand, the entire tantrum all but forgotten on his part.

You quietly watch your husband, where he is still sitting nearly frozen, clearly working through something in his own mind. He’s wearing that faraway, glassy look in his eyes. The look has become exceedingly rare over time, but still rears its ugly head every once in a while.

Your hand finds its way to Astarion’s, where he’s dug it down into the sand, simply trying to clutch onto something in an attempt to keep himself together.

When your fingers brush against your husband’s, his eyes snap to you, and he’s pulled from whatever thought had been racing through his mind as he threads his fingers through yours. Now he’s clutching onto you.

“You’re a good father, you know.” You murmur, focusing your eyes on your husband’s as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. A moment of silence passes between the two of you as he simply nods in acknowledgment, unable to bring himself to say anything as he sits in discomfort. Gale is singing happily as he scoops more sand into his bucket, oblivious to the two of you.

You flash a wide grin at Astarion and his eyebrows crinkle as he watches you, not understanding why.

“I think the twins think so, too, daddy.” You whisper, and you bring his sandy hand to your stomach, where the first few flutterings of movement can barely be felt beneath the stretching skin.

For just a moment, Astarion forgets himself as he beams and moves to place a kiss on the swell of your abdomen. Anyone looking at your family might have caught the quickest glimpse of his scars in that single, fleeting instance. But then the moment is gone, and he lays down with a sigh, obscuring his back completely.

“I just did it because I couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent again if Gale accidentally blew it down, my love.” Your husband says in that offhanded, airy way of his that he uses whenever he’s feeling particularly vulnerable.

And right there, you think that may be the second lie Astarion has ever told you since your discussion at Moonrise Towers all those years ago.

But you’ll let that one slide.

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 48 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 47 | lesson 48.2 | lesson 49.1 | lesson 49.2

before reading this...i feel like shit is about to hit the fan idk. the last part of the science fair can't be all sunshine and roses

...

SIGH

my brother in christ the lesson JUST STARTED 🧍🏾

maybe it's the remnants of simeon's angelic nature clashing with the magic solomon used on him. everyone says that solomon is slowly losing what's left of his humanity bc of how long he's been alive, along with the fact that that he went to cocytus and came back alive

or maybe i'm just yapping

simeon: *whatever tf just happened*

luci: mc, i need to talk to you

mc: omg i love you too babe 🫶🏽

like ?? 😭 mc is hilarious i fear

IS HE A DEMON NOW ????? i wanna say i'm surprised but i'm not. i just wonder how the story's gonna play out if they go that route

more on this here

luci trusting satan's judgment bc he's one of the most trustworthy of his brothers and the most similar to him

:((((

but also luci??? HELLO??? whore behavior we love to see it 😌 give me more

but also maybe not bc what if he copes with his negative emotion through sex ??? the whole family needs therapy

the siblings ever. i love them

this is so interesting to me

i wanna ask how the rest of them didn't figure it out sooner, but they all probably went into "protective brother" mode as soon as they realized he didn't have his angelic powers to protect himself anymore. solomon didn't have those kinds of ties to simeon, so he was able to act on and use logic in a more effective way than the brothers would be able to, figuring out that something was wrong before anyone else

solomon assuming that simeon is oblivious to what's going on though? i feel like he's too smart for that to be true. if anything, he's probably either DEEP in denial, too stubborn to bring it up hc he doesn't wanna worry anyone, or mentally wrestling with the fact that he finally got what he wanted - to be with the brothers in the devildom after their fall - but at the cost of his identity

i know i'm reading too far into this, but do the boys really think that lowly of demons (themselves)?

like yes, some demons of lower and higher stature are the absolute worst people you'll ever encounter, but the brothers and diavolo and barbatos and probably numerous other demons are proof that you aren't defined by your physiology or designation or identity or anything like that

some angels act worse than the lowest of demons do, but they're still angels. being a certain race doesn't determine your personality or moral standing, it's who you are as a person

ngl idk what to make of this yet, but i feel like it's important. foreshadowing even. so i'm keeping it here

baby no :( he's doing it to protect you

i love and hate the way simeon is so protective of luke. on one hand, that's basically his son, so i get wanting to shield him from the worst parts of the world and the worst parts of yourself

but on the other, luke is his own person, too. adults tend to forget that kids don't exist as an extension of themselves, but as people trying to find their place in the world. they aren't as naive and are way smarter than most people give them credit for

luke not voicing his concern is a result of and will continue to result in simeon shutting him out under the guise of protecting him, when in reality it's only putting more of a strain on their relationship

ngl i AUDIBLY laughed at that first part bc what 😭

also why would they cut the lesson off here ??? obey me devs when i catch you

i'm honestly so happy the sf arc shifted to something else bc i was getting tired of the happy shit. give me ANGST /lh /hj

[nerdlydelicious]

If the fact that I made 30+ memes about the topic didn’t make it clear enough, I’ve basically gone half feral over grizzled Rusted Knight Jaune. I can’t wait to learn more about his time in the Ever After and how he’s changed.

And yes, I do believe that he is the Rusted Knight from Alyx’s story, not just his heir or replacement. Maybe that will wind up not being the case, but we’ll have to wait and see.

But do you know what’s really wild about Jaune being the Rusted Knight?

Everyone knows who he is. ‘The Girl who Fell Through the World’ is obviously a classic that’s been read by just about everyone as children. All of his friends, his classmates, his family, those kids he walked to and from school in Mantle. Hell, even their parents.

Everyone knows who he is.

Imagine Blake listening to Kali or Ghira read her the story, waiting for her favorite part: when the Rusted Knight rides in on his Jackelope to save Alyx from the Jabberwalker.

Imagine Weiss daydreaming about a knight riding to the rescue of his princess on the back of a big bunny, sweeping her up in his arms and riding off into the sunset to live their happily ever after.

Imagine Yang eagerly listening to Tai or Summer describe the knight clashing with the Jabberwalker and cheering when he strikes it down. Imagine Ruby being inspired by the Rusted Knight to be just like him: a hero who’s always there when they’re needed.

Imagine Pyrrha wanting to become the very best warrior just like him, unaware that she would play a role in forging his legend.

Imagine Nora and Ren huddled up together in a cave, taking shelter from a storm and reading about how the Rusted Knight fought and slew the big monster, taking comfort in the fact that at least in the fairy tails the heroes always win.

And imagine Jaune with a toy shield and sword, pretending he’s the rusted knight, being carried on his father’s shoulders as he duels with an imaginary Jabberwalker, unaware that he’s recreating his own battles.

Imagine Cinder huddled under her thin sheets, reading the book by moonlight and wishing a knight would take her away to a magical world where everything was okay.

Imagine Emerald reading the story of the Ever After from a book she stole, using it to teach herself how to read word by word.

Imagine Mercury wishing a knight would fight his Jabberwalker and protect him from his own father.

Just think about how Blake of all people reacted when he arrived to fight the Jabberwalker. She was giddy with excitement at seeing one of her childhood heroes in the flesh. If Jaune hadn’t removed his helmet, she probably would have asked for his autograph.

From Vale to Menagerie, the children of Remnant know the story of Alyx’s journey, and they know the Rusted Knight. When they play Ever After they argue over who gets to be the Rusted Knight and fight the Jabberwalker. And some of those children, knowingly or otherwise, are influenced by him to grow up and fight their own world’s monsters, to become huntresses and huntsmen, to be the defenders of Remnant and the shield between the innocent and the Grimm. Just like how the Rusted Knight has defended the Ever After from the Jabberwalker.

Jaune is one of Remnant’s childhood heroes. And I think that’s beautiful.

And yes, I did cry a bit while writing this. Thank you for asking.

[gotham-daydreams]

With that last ask I wanna ask now since it made me think.

Since we have been gone for a good couple of months, but there's no dust in our room does that mean Alfred cleans it regularly as well :(. Does he clean in in hopes we might come back?

Also for the box we but our journal in it has a bit of dust so that that mean Alfred doesn't know it was there or that Alfred was planning on making everyone yandere since we left and purposely left it unkept, he set it up for Bruce to search our room he'll find the box with a bit of dust 😥?

How far has he gone?

Yes!!! Someone noticed!!

The rest of the room being clean does mean that Alfred has cleaned it, and while it is partially because he hopes that the reader will come back, it's mostly because it's his little excuse to be in their space. He misses them, and just seeing their room and taking care of it makes him feel a little better. Especially because the only form or communication he's had with them is one sided, and leaves him unable to properly communicate with them. (Which will be mentioned later!)

He does clean it regularly, and even changes the sheets and such as he normally would. After all, he doesn't want the remnants of his favorite kid/grandkid to be ruined or dirty. He wants to preserve it to the best of his ability!

I will say that for the most part, Alfred actually wasn't aware of the box, but did know about the notebooks. So that bit in particular was unintentional on his part, but he did plan for someone to head into the reader's room one way or another. Crossing his fingers that someone would find the notebooks, but that's only if he got lucky. If he didn't, then he did have his own plan in mind. However, Bruce just so happened to be the first one to be caught in his trap, and the rest followed in suit.

I will say that he will go a bit far, seeing as he isn't above using old recordings and such that he has of the reader to cause certain reactions from the Batfam, and make them feel a certain way. Just as he isn't above luring someone in by playing a recording and having the volume loud enough for your voice to be heard from down the hall. Among a few other things. Recordings which are very personal to him, but also show other moments the reader has had.

Moments where they've been vulnerable, and alone. Almost like they're first birthday spent alone, but just think a little worse than that- and the reader being unaware that they're being recorded.

Regardless, while Alfred wasn't necessarily trying to make everyone yandere/as obsessed as he is over the reader, he wanted to make them feel guilty for neglecting you, and turn that guilt into worry so that they could go out and look for you. With them turning yandere as well being just a little unexpected side effect, but not an unwelcome one. His intention all along was really for the Batfam to just go out and find you, and maybe make them suffer just a tiny bit because of what they've done to you. Though, as one can see- he didn't really have to do much to spark that worry, since Bruce's mind did the work for him, and that led to the idea being planted into everyone else's heads. Though who's to say he didn't plan that either?

After all, he did raise Bruce. Presumably, Alfred would know him best, no? :]

One way or another, someone was going to search your room, and one way or another- Alfred would give them an inch so that they would go a mile.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Laughing jack x kid!reader? Obviously its platonic LMAO but what if LJ fell into the hands of this really sweet kid but nothing bad happens. Just him tapping back into his roots as a harmless imaginry friend

Laughing Jack being child!readers imaginary friend

Looking through all the rooms in the house looking for my dog when shes not responding has to be the most stressful thing (shes fine she snuck into my room and fell asleep without me noticing 😭😭😭)

Always loved the idea that Jack still has some capacity to be how he was before and still carries some remnant of his old behaviors and stuff

Definitely takes some time getting used to him, since hes a bit rusty at the whole not being.. evil thing.. but once hes got it down you guys are set!!

Your parents dont think much of it, of course chalking it up to your imagination and you playing pretend whenever you and jack hang out together

He loooooves any drawing you make, especially if it's a drawing of him

You could interpret him as a black scribble and he would still eat it up

Doesnt matter if you like tea parties or playing with cars hes going to hop into whatever game you have in mind as well as make suggestions

Tag, hide and seek, if it can work with just two people you guys are going to play it

Hes a little.. scary in the dark at night but you get used to seeing him in your room- he... doesnt really need sleep so there isnt much for him to do.. he does sometimes wander the house

Endless supply of candy, your parents grow more confused about where you get it

If you parents get frustrated about the sheer amount you've managed to get or are the type to limit/prohibit candy jack is your walking stash.. unlimited stash

Bro does NOT know what moderation is so maybe it's not.. that good

You have definitely tried to smuggle jack to school by taking his box in your backpack

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (Side - 3) - Daddy issue

Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Story masterlist

Set after chapter 30. Tara lets something embarrassing slip and you both have to deal with consequences.

Word count: 1.1k

The horror... the worst case scenario... the absolute nightmare, no, the night terror! It was the end of the world as you knew it, and you and Tara were equally to blame for it as the two of you stared at your children like two deer in the headlights. How could you allow this to happen?! You dropped your guard for a few minutes, believing Zack and Susan were outside playing on the trampoline you set up for them. You should have known something was going wrong when you couldn’t hear laughter.

"W-what did you just ask?" Tara stuttered, her face redder than it was in a long, long time, and you would have found her blushing face adorable, if it wasn’t for Zack and Susan just staring at the two of you. confused and curious.

Zack frowned a bit, clearly not fond of the fact that he had to repeat his question. It wasn't that you and Tara didn't hear him, it was more along the lines of having to make sure you heard him correctly.

Susan was the one to shatter the last remnants of your hope. "Mommy, why did you call mom daddy?" she repeated Zack's question.

You and Tara looked at one another, neither of you quite sure how to explain to your eleven-year-old children that there was a bit of a daddy kind going on behind the bedroom doors.

You cleared your throat as Tara refused to look at either of the two kids. "Well, you see, that's," there was no way to explain it!

"Mom is a mom, not a dad," well, now Zack was just pointing out the very obvious fact.

"Right, that is completely right," Tara agreed and grabbed your hand. "Give us a minute, okay?" she let go of your hand to slice two pieces of the cake you made yesterday and set them on the table as the bribe. "We'll be right back!"

You let her pull you into the hall and she let you pull her into a hug as she hid her face in the crook of your neck. "This is a disaster," she whined, grasping onto your shirt as if her life depended on it. Considering how embarrassed both of you were that wasn’t much of an exaggeration.

There was no way you could deny it, you were in a very inconvenient situation. "Guess we need to find some explanation," you were trying, you really were, you helplessly looked around the hall, hoping something in it would give you an idea on what to do or say.

Tara just groaned. "I will never speak again," she decided making you chuckle despite the dire circumstances.

"Come on, we'll get through this," you kissed the top of her head. You were willing to bet you'd be laughing about it later. It was just a bad timing, Tara may have been a bit of a tease, so you went and slipped into a bit more dominant role, prompting a 'Yes, Daddy,' from Tara, just as the twins came into the kitchen.

Tara took a deep breath and looked toward the kitchen with a firm, confident and determined expression on her face. "Let's do this!"

You nodded and followed her once again.

When you came into the kitchen your children were happily eating their cake. "You don't have to tell us," Zack decided and you felt hope filling your heart and you were sure Tara felt the same.

"We'll just Google it!" Susan shattered that hope right away.

"No!" you and Tara yelled at the same time.

The twins tilted their heads, now even more confused.

"Okay, look," you glanced at Tara, and she nodded. "Tara and I really love each other, right?" you asked prompting the twins to nod.

"And sometimes when people like Y/N and me love each other," Tara blushed again and looked to the side, scratching her cheek while taking hold of your hand for comfort.

"We sometimes joke around. 'Cause I am really strong, you know, the famous 'dad strength'?" was it a lame excuse? Yeah, and to make things even worse it didn’t fit what Tara was saying at all! But you still hoped it would be enough.

Zack and Susan looked at one another. Then back at you and nodded. "Okay," they agreed much to your surprise.

"This sounds too good to be true," you whispered to Tara, who nodded.

"We'll just ask aunty Mindy," Susan decided and you could almost hear Tara’s brain short-circuiting while your heart plain and simple stopped.

"NO!" you and Tara once again yelled but the kids were already calling Mindy.

"What's up?" Mindy's voice came from the speaker to your and Tara's absolute horror.

"Aunty Mindy, why did mommy call mom daddy?" Susan asked causing Mindy to choke.

"Mindy," you warned, your tone dangerously low. Surely she would have some decency, some semblance of logic and reason and empathy and just make something up.

Mindy coughed a few times. "Sorry, kids, your parents are kinky," she opened the can of worms and hung up, leaving the twins to once again look at you and Tara.

"What does kinky mean?"

This was hell, this was worse than Ghostface, this was...

"You are too young to know. Who wants chicken schnitzels and fries for lunch?" you were already grabbing the chicken breasts from the freezer as the kids cheered, at least for now forgetting about the conversation you just had.

Later that night Tara’s phone rang just as she was about to lie down next to you and she nearly chucked it at the wall when she saw it was Mindy. She still, begrudgingly, answered. “What?!” she demanded, pissed at the woman.

“Oh, nothing much. By the way, how’s your daddy? Does she call you babygirl?” Mindy teased, laughing her ass off with Anika.

Tara gripped her phone as her eye twitched, but then she turned toward you with a smirk on her face. “Hey, Y/N, did you know Mindy still sleeps with a giant teddy bear? Anika spoons her and she still needs to hug it to sleep,” Tara told you casually while Mindy stopped laughing.

“You are diabolical, Tara,” you could hear the pout on Mindy’s face. “And I am not sleeping with a teddy bear… anymore,” she muttered and hung up, making you and Tara laugh as she joined you, and you wrapped your arms around her as the two of you snuggled for a bit.

“So, that teddy bear thing,” you began and felt Tara giggling. “I just guessed,” she couldn’t help it and began laughing again.

Story masterlist