#For all the kind words and the patience and the love

[bitters-n-sweets]

i love him — jack abbot x fem!reader inspired by a scene from Jerry Maguire | Jack overhears the reader having a “secret” conversation with her best friend

warnings: unspecified age gap, just some cute fluff, Jack calls reader ‘sweets’, reader and her best friend calls him 'doctor daddy' for obvious reasons, not proofread, self indulgent, mdni masterlist i was writing angst for a few days and now need a breather haha

You and Jack have been dating for a while. About a few months now. You just became an attending at PTMC, and that really what kickstarted your relationship—he’s no longer your boss. The pining, the almosts, the what-ifs—they were there in every lingering glance, every shared laugh in the on-call room, every late-night case that ended with his hand brushing yours just a second too long.

But Jack never let it cross the line. Not while you were under him professionally. He saw what happened with Robby and Collins—how quickly things could spiral, how reputations could fracture. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you. To both of you.

When you finally became an attending at PTMC, it felt like the last piece clicking into place. You waited to open the manila folder—the one with your future inside—until you were at Jack’s place. You wanted him to be the first to know. To be there for the moment. And when you unfolded the letter and saw those words—“We’re pleased to inform you…”—you practically jumped into his arms. Jack held you tight, a proud, steady smile on his face like he’d known it all along.

“I knew you could do it, sweets.”

He’d asked you out not long after that. A quiet breakfast date after your night shift—flowers already waiting on the table, a small wrapped box with a bracelet inside. Something simple. Something thoughtful. Something so very Jack.

Of course, there’ve been arguments. Small things—a forgotten dinner plan, a tense call on a bad day—but nothing that ever felt like it could undo you. Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He listens, then speaks. Calm, grounded, but never cold. He never makes you feel like you’re too much.

But what surprises you most about Jack Abbot isn’t his patience, or his discipline, or even his skill in bed.

It’s how romantic he is.

The kind of man who keeps a sticky note in his wallet with your coffee order. The kind who kisses your hand before work, like an old-school gentleman from a black-and-white movie.

You’ve been covering the day shift for three days straight, and today’s your day off. You’re planning to reset your sleep schedule to prepare for the night shift rotation starting tomorrow. You stayed up all night just so you could sleep together with Jack—but, of course, he texts that he’s going to be a little late. Hazards of being an ER doc.

Then, your phone buzzes. It’s your friend Diana.

Diana: How’s the attending life so far, doc?

Diana’s your best friend. You don’t live close to each other, and don’t text every day, but you have monthly check-ins with each other to catch up on each other’s lives. You smile as you read her text and press the call button.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” She replies with matching energy. “How’s my ER girlie doing?”

“Trying to survive.” You chuckle. “How about you? How’s work for my corporate girlie?”

“Busy as I’ll ever be.” You can practically see her roll her eyes. “But seriously, how’s life? Oh! How is Doctor Daddy doing?”

You glance at the door, you thought you heard a noise.

“Doctor Daddy’s doing fine,” you say, trying not to laugh. “And… yeah. Life’s good. I have no complaints.”

“Ooh you have that voice.”

“What voice?”

“The ‘I’m in love and I don’t know what to do with myself’ voice.”

“I do not!” You gasp, then pause. “Okay, maybe I do.”

“Oh my God.” Diana gasps. “You’re in love with Jack.”

You sigh, a smile etched on your face. “Yeah, I guess I do love him. Ugh, I mean, how can I not? He’s sweet, and good, and—God, Diana, I love him for—for the man he already is, and for the man he wants to be. He makes me feel like I’m home. Even when he’s being annoying, I still want him next to me.”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m really in love with him. I guess I’m doomed, huh?”

“Now why would you be doomed, sweets?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, turning around and clutching your phone. Jack’s leaning against the back of the couch, bag dropped by his feet, smirking faintly—curious and amused.

“Diana… I’m… gonna call you back.”

“OMG DID DOCTOR DADDY HEAR YOU—” Click. You hang up, but Jack’s already heard the nickname he apparently has.

You can feel your ears getting hot, and you’ll bet your face is red by now.

“How much did you hear?” you ask, not meeting his eyes.

He shrugs, stepping closer. “Only the important parts. Do you really mean everything you said?”

You freeze, fumbling. “Look, I know it’s early. Maybe too soon. We don’t have to talk about it. We can pretend you didn’t hear—”

“Say it again.” He steps closer.

You glance up. He’s right in front of you now, arms sliding gently around your waist.

Your hands rest on his chest, grounding yourself. “I—I love you.”

And then Jack pulls you in, a smile now on his face. “I love you, too.”

Then he kisses you like he’s never done before. Passionate yet slow, he’s taking his time to taste you, devour you, claim you as his. Because there’s no way he’s letting you go. Ever.

You pull away shortly after, breathless.

The smirk comes back to his lips and he teases you, “Doctor Daddy, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You groan, pressing your face into his chest. “Never speak of it again.”

“Call me that when we’re having sex and see what happens.” He whispers, voice low near your ear, sending you shivers.

“Jack!”

[unevenpatterns]

1: Do you/would you like to write professionally? I wanted to as a child, but now I'm fine just doing it for fun.

2: Which author has influenced you the most? Probably Tamora Pierce. Sooo many female protagonists being badass in different ways.

3: Any guilty pleasures (books/fics)? Does fanfic count? Because that is definitely the number 1 guilty pleasure I have.

4: What’s better (or the least bad): character over plot or plot over character? Character over plot. I've read some stories with great characters and no plot that were still wildly entertaining. I've also read books that by all means should have been great based on the plot, but where the characters were awful. It's like eating a burnt cookie. It could have been good, but it was ruined.

5: Do you think stories can change lives? Is there a story that has changed yours? Yes. I don't think there's one singular story that has changed mine, but the collective of the stories I've read have definitely affected how I think and it has given a safe space to escape to in difficult times.

6: What’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to writing? When I can tell that the sentence is worded clumsily, but I cannot figure out how to make it smooth.

7: Do you listen to music while you write/read? No.

8: Favorite quotes?

9: If you could wish for a new book from any author, who would it be? It would be real nice if Patrick Rothfuss could finish up the King Killer Chronicles is all I'm saying.

10: What’s your favorite trope? Enemies to lovers.

11: What’s your (least) favorite overused trope? Love triangle. I'm personally of the opinion that if someone can't figure out who they want then I'm getting the hell out of there. In writing I'll just make them a throuple.

12: Which trope would you absolutely abolish? Mary Sue. I want my characters flawed and messed up. The worst offender is when a canonicly mess of a person is ✨fixed✨ and suddenly speak like they came straight out of a therapy session and has gained infinite emotional understanding and patience.

13: Are there any tropes you’re embarrassed for enjoying? Arranged marriage fics. In reality it can have some really nasty implications, but the complicated emotions and "oh no is it unrequited?" just gets to me.

14: Do you have a go-to AU? Nope.

15: What kind of character do you wish you saw portrayed more often? Competent characters that still mess up with the thing they are supposed to be good at. Perfection is boring and unrealistic.

16: What’s more frustrating: plotholes or OOC characters? OOC characters. I can "forget" that there is a plothole if the story is otherwise good enough, but I get pulled out of the story if the character portrayal is inconsistent or doesn't make sense.

17: What’s more draining: writing smut, fluff or angst? Neither one of them. I just chose only to write whichever I'm in the mood for. That's the upside of having many WIPs.

18: Are you a ‘neatly designed outline’ writer or a ‘fuck it i’ll figure it out as i go’ writer? I usually have an idea of where I want the characters to end up and then I realise I have to built a whole story to get them there. So there's a clear endgoal, but whatever happens in between to get there is "figure it out as I go".

19: Do you think major character deaths are ever necessary? Sure, just depends on the story and genre.

20: If you could ‘unkill’ any character from any story, who would it be? Jet from Avatar.

21: Would you like to write an alternative ending for any of your favorite shows/books/etc? Yup, and I already have.

22: Are you more likely to be the person who starts reading a 100k slow burn fic at midnight or the person who starts writing a drabble at 4 a.m.? Reading. I've done way more reading than writing and writing requires effort that 4 am me rarely has.

pick just one:

23: fluff or angst? Angst 100%

24: fantasy or sci-fi? Fantasy

25: fake dating AU or inpromptu babysitting AU? Fake dating. I'm not big on babysitting AU, but "Accidental Baby Aquisition" is the best shit. The potential for chaos, comedy and found family? Yes please.

26: road trip AU or high school AU? High school. I've only read one good road trip fic, but I've come across many decent high school AU's.

27: coffee shop AU or florist AU? Coffee shop.

28: stuck in an elevator AU or camping gone bad AU? I don't think I've ever read either of them.

29: 20s AU or 50s AU? 50s. I simply don't know enough about the 20s to have a good sense for what the time was like.

30: high school AU from a fantasy/sci-fi story or fantasy/sci fi AU from a realistic story? High school AU. (It's a lot of work to built a nice fantasy/sci fi world and I rarely see it done well)

31: mythological creature AU or superhero AU? Depends on the fandom.

32: meet cute or meet ugly? Meet ugly for sure.

A writing/reading ask meme!

[pazzispizookies]

High schooled

————————

as always all work is fiction.

Cw: 🍃🍃😉 ( very VERY exaggerated for entertainment, I’m completely aware this isn’t how most people are when they’re ⬆️⬆️ so yeah trust lol this isn’t accurate)

Also, hey guys!! I’ve missed writing so much. I hope you all like this stupidness to hold u until I release the fic I’ve been working on, so here’s something silly to pass the time. leave anons and comments!! I love you pookies.

Pairing: high school Azzi x Paige, teammates to lovers.

Word count: 2.5k

___ ____ ___

Paige and Azzi hadn’t really talked since tryouts.

They had that kind of quiet chemistry off the bench—electric in motion, like the ball just understood where it needed to go when it was between them. Both juniors now, they’d played together long enough to know each other’s rhythm.

But that didn’t mean they spoke.

Azzi had a different kind of high school experience than Paige.

She was that girl. Popular, pretty, the one everyone assumed had a line of people trying to date her and ten more waiting to join. The kind of girl teachers adored and strangers rooted for. Not because she was fake nice—but because she was quietly kind. Always helping someone. Always smiling. Always balanced.

Paige… wasn’t like that.

She was loud in her own way. Not obnoxious—just real. Known for zoning out in class and zoning in on the court. Since eighth grade, everyone knew she was gonna be something serious with basketball. She didn’t try in school, didn’t really try to make friends. Not because she was rude. She just didn’t need the noise.

No drama, no gossip, no fake laughing in the locker room. Paige just wasn’t interested.

Except… when it came to Azzi.

Something about her stayed in Paige’s head longer than it should’ve.

Azzi was a walking contradiction—soft-spoken but never timid. Composed but not cold. Like she had more going on under the surface, but didn’t owe anyone access to it. Paige tried freshman year. Reached out. Dropped some lines, tried to get close. Didn’t work.

She figured out real fast she wasn’t the type of person Azzi Fudd kept around.

So she stopped trying. Just admired from a safe distance.

And maybe, yeah, she passed to Azzi more on the court than she should’ve. Maybe she felt it when their plays clicked like clockwork, but it stayed on the court.

They were mutuals online. Occasional polite nods in the hall. Shared group chats with dry thumbs-ups.

So when Azzi found Paige slouched in a stairwell during fourth period, it was…unexpected.

**

Paige was bored. Like, kill-me-now level bored.

Geometry again. Her second time through it. Shapes and angles and numbers that had nothing to do with game stats. She was out of patience. She didn’t need geometry to steal a ball away or drop 20 on a D1 recruit.

So she left.

Asked to use the bathroom, slid her hoodie up, and took a stroll around the school—with a little extra on the side.

The new pen she’d picked up was hitting. Harder than she expected.

She’d only started smoking a couple months ago. Some college party, bad decisions… yadda yadda. But the high? Oh, the high hit like a deep exhale after a long day. Her brain got quiet. Thoughts slowed. Shit just made more sense—or didn’t have to.

No drug tests in-season for high school. So every now and then, when life got too loud, Paige took a moment.

She took one hit. Waited. Then another. Then three more in a row.

Five hits.

Which was about… four too many. For school at least.

“Fuck,” she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were swimming. Eyes bloodshot. Movements molasses-slow. She looked like she’d just been dragged through a dream.

“Just act cool,” she mumbled, even though her mouth was already betraying her.

She splashed water on her face. Didn’t help. Her reflection looked like it was vibing to a song she couldn’t hear. That white noise hum in her ears made everything feel like a music video.

She walked up the stairwell, each step a challenge. Head bobbing slightly, hoodie half-on, breathing like she was auditioning to be a fog machine.

Then—

“Paige? Are you—uh, okay?”

Azzi’s voice. Light, amused. But with a thread of concern underneath.

Paige turned around way too fast, stumbled a little, then forced a wide, dopey grin. “Azzi! Yep. All good!”

Azzi tilted her head. “You sure? ‘Cause you look a little… lost.”

Paige glanced around, turning her head to sweep her surroundings. Maybe she accidentally took a wrong turn.

Nope, just in school…was this girl good?

Lost? What did Azzi mean lost?

She didn’t need a map.

She was on the fucking stairs.

“I’m on the stairs.”

Azzi fudd might be stupid. I mean she was on the stairs. Not in the ocean.

“Yes, you are indeed,” Azzi said, laughing softly. “I meant lost in a different way, genius.”

“Ohhhhhhhh” Paige chuckled out, realizing she was the stupid one.

That shouldn’t’ve been funny.

But somehow, that was the line that cracked Paige wide open.

Laughter spilled out of her like a floodgate had been waiting to blow. Real, breath-stealing, stomach-clutching laughter. The kind that made you bend over and slap your own knee.

Azzi blinked, half smiling. “Paige? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t—” Paige gasped. “I don’t even know.”

She tried to catch her breath. Failed. Then started laughing again, this time with tears creeping into her eyes. Her face was flushed, eyes even redder now, blue nearly swallowed by the haze.

Azzi moved closer, just in time to catch her as she stumbled forward.

“Whoa—hey, okay,” she said, steadying Paige with a gentle grip.

Paige leaned into her, loose-limbed, chin dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder like she belonged there. Like her body just knew this was a safe place to land.

“You smell good, Az…”

Azzi froze.

Paige’s own brain screamed in slow motion—why’d you say that?!

She hadn’t meant to. But weed turned her mouth into a traitor. And the thing was, it was true. Azzi smelled clean. Calm. Vanilla and something a little citrusy. Paige could’ve buried her face there and floated away.

Before Azzi could say anything, Paige pulled herself upright again. “Uh, thanks. Sorry.”

“Paige, wait—”

“Yeah?” Paige turned around, blinking slow, lips parted.

Azzi hesitated, then exhaled. “I’m… worried about you. I know we’re not really friends, but you’re obviously—not exactly clear-minded right now. So… you wanna just sit with me for a minute?”

She wasn’t judging. Just honest. Soft but firm.

Paige stood there, heartbeat thudding unevenly. If she went back to geometry like this, she’d be cooked. Suspended, maybe expelled.

“…Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Azzi smiled, relief softening her eyes. “Cool. And, uh—thanks.”

“For what?”

“The compliment.” She grinned. “But we should probably leave before someone walks in.”

Paige’s cheeks warmed. She hoped it didn’t show, but knowing her winter-pale skin, practically translucent in the winter months—it absolutely did.

“Yeah. You right.”

They started walking together, slow at first. Quiet.

Until Paige squinted over at her.

“Wait… don’t you got class right now? I thought you were like, Miss Honor Roll.”

Azzi gave her a side-eye. “I don’t have a class this period. I usually help out around school. Staple stuff, prep club kits, support the special ed classrooms…”

Paige shook her head. “Yo. You’re like… annoyingly perfect.”

Silence.

“I mean,” she fumbled, “not like in a bad way. Just, y’know—like a little fairy princess of academic responsibility.”

“Paige.”

“Yeah?”

“I get it,” Azzi said with a small laugh. “I’ll take it as a compliment. Again.”

Paige grinned. “Good.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs when Azzi stopped and looked toward the side door to the lot.

“You down to maybe…” she jerked her chin toward the exit, “…skip the rest of the day?”

Paige blinked, jaw slack.

“You? Azzi Fudd? Tryna cut school?”

Azzi pushed the door open

Azzi laughed and stepped through the side door, shooting a grin over her shoulder. “Guess you’re a bad influence.”

The sunlight caught her curls just right, making her look like some kind of daydream, and Paige stayed posted up at the top of the stairwell, watching her go like her brain had skipped a beat.

Bad influence. Word.

She shook her head to snap out of it, blinking slow. Her high was still humming loud in her chest, but she remembered—oh right, legs. Gotta move ‘em.

By the time she made it down the stairs and out into the parking lot, Azzi was already halfway across the pavement, walking with that calm, light-footed stride like she’d done this a thousand times. Paige jogged a few steps to catch up, hoodie still half-off, one hand shoved in the pocket like she was just chillin’ and not, y’know, freshly ditching school with the girl who usually carried the whole moral compass of the team.

“This your first time skipping?” Paige asked, settling in next to her, pace casual.

Azzi glanced over, lips pressed into a little smile. “Yeah… first time.”

Paige smirked. “You nervous?”

Azzi shrugged. “A little. But you make it look kind of… fun.”

Paige raised a brow. “Fun? This is elite-tier boredom survival. I skip ‘cause geometry is straight-up brain poison.”

Azzi laughed softly. “You might have a point.”

The air settled into something soft for a second, the daylight beaming on both of them warm and honey like.

“Gimme your phone.”

Azzi stopped mid-step. “What?”

Paige held her hand out, palm up, expression calm but firm. “Your phone. C’mon.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“Right.” Azzi gave her a long, skeptical look but didn’t move. “Sounds like the start of a very bad idea.”

Paige kept her hand out. “You said you trusted me. One time. Promise.”

Azzi hesitated. Then sighed and reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone like she already knew she was gonna regret this. “Alright. Just don’t break it or hack into my Pinterest boards.”

Paige grinned. “Can’t promise anything.”

She took the phone, thumbs already moving. “Password?”

“It’s my birthday. November—”

“I got it,” Paige cut in, casual like she’d cracked military intel.

Azzi blinked. “How did you…? Seriously?”

“I got good memory.” Paige shrugged. “You said it in that interview after the regional tourney last season. Mentioned your birthday fell on a game day.”

Azzi looked at her sideways, not saying anything at first.

“What?” Paige smirked.

“Nothing.” Azzi shook her head, amused. “I don’t even think my brother remembers my birthday.”

“John or José?” Paige asked without missing a beat.

Azzi stopped walking. “Okay, now that’s creepy.”

Paige turned to her, eyes calm but teasing. “I pay attention, Az. Don’t freak out.”

Azzi let out a breath, half-laughing. “Maybe I sold you short, Beuckers.”

Paige grinned. “Bet you did.”

They kept walking, the silence between them feeling more relaxed now, more like… space shared instead of space filled. Then Paige’s face shifted into focus again, thumbs tapping at the screen with quick, practiced confidence.

“Alright,” she said. “When I tap your shoulder, just cough real dramatic. Like you been in bed all week.”

Azzi stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Cough, Fudd. Trust the system.”

Azzi looked like she wanted to argue again, but then Paige raised the phone to her ear, posture suddenly very official.

“Hello, Hopkins attendance. How can I help you?” a woman’s voice answered.

Azzi’s eyes went wide. Paige shot her a side glance and gently grabbed her wrist to ground her.

“Uh, yes, hello!” Paige started in the most ridiculous fake British accent Azzi had ever heard. “This is Miss Fudd’s nurse, and I’m terribly afraid she’s come down with quite the nasty cold. Poor thing’s barely able to stand.”

Azzi nearly snorted, choking on a laugh she had to bury in her elbow.

“Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that,” the voice replied kindly. “Also, you have the most interesting accent—”

“Yes, yes, I get that all the time,” Paige interrupted smoothly, trying to hold her own laughter back. “But unfortunately, I must be going. Tea’s getting cold, and Miss Fudd needs rest. Take care now, love.” She hung up with a little flourish.

Azzi was staring at her, mouth open in a mix of horror and hysterics. “Did you just—was that a British accent?!”

“Oi, love, mind your tone,” Paige said, still in character for half a beat before she broke and started laughing.

She handed Azzi her phone back like it was nothing.

“Paige, you are—” Azzi laughed, “you’re an idiot.”

Paige shrugged. “A talented idiot.”

Azzi shook her head. “That was insane.”

“You’re off the hook now. You’re welcome.” Paige threw a lazy arm around Azzi’s shoulder for half a second before pulling back, like she didn’t even realize she did it.

Azzi blinked, cheeks warm. “You know you didn’t have to go that hard.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Paige said, eyes twinkling.

They kept walking, the pace slow and unbothered. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had pressed pause—no classes, no pressure, no teammates watching. Just the two of them, skipping school like it was their own private rebellion.

“You ever thought about… not doing this alone?” Azzi asked suddenly.

Paige looked at her. “What you mean?”

“Like,” Azzi tucked a curl behind her ear, “I know we don’t talk much. Or, like… at all. But I could help you. If school’s a lot, if you’re slipping—I could tutor you. I’m serious.”

Paige hesitated, her eyes lingering on Azzi’s face. “Yeah… maybe. I’d like that.”

Azzi smiled, quiet and genuine. “Cool.”

The air between them felt different now. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just... full of possibility.

Paige rubbed the back of her neck, then glanced at her. “When you wanna start?”

“Friday work for you?” Azzi asked, her voice soft. Smile breaking though.

Paige held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded.

“It’s a date.”

———————

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Remember to leave comments and anons!! Let me know how u like this, and thank you for reading! <333

[liliapleasesteponme]

Girl, omg, do a Seward one where the reader is her partner with depression. When she feels her mood dipping, she tries to hide it from Seward (she doesn't want to worry her / doesn't want her to do therapy outside of work / is scared she will see her as weak etc)

But ofc Seward can see the signs, comforts her and then maybe some spice heheh👀👀

The quiet between us

Dr. florence seward x depressed!reader

Summary - seward gently helps her partner navigate depression with love, patience, and deep emotional (and physical) intimacy

Warnings - depression depiction (internal monologue, masking, withdrawal), emotional avoidance, comfort and care, romantic/sexual intimacy

Taglist - @mgruiz @multixfan @angeliccss @renyfisher @ilovepattilupone @tinnisamy @thegoddamnfeels @p2pecleanerwitheyes @sapphic-girlss @womankissersworld @akilikesaxolotls @arclic-stuff

The spoon scraped gently against porcelain as you stirred your tea for the third time. The liquid had gone cold long ago, but it gave your hands something to do. Something to occupy the silence you hadn’t filled all day.

You weren’t crying. Not trembling, not panicking. That might have been easier—at least you could name it then. This was quieter, heavier. A leaden kind of emptiness that pressed at your chest like something was trying to root there.

The floor creaked behind you.

“Still up?” Florence’s voice was soft. Not the clipped, clinical tone she used with patients. This one was worn at the edges with sleep, with love.

You didn’t turn around, only nodded. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

She stepped beside you, hair down, robe tied loose around her waist. Her eyes drifted toward the untouched tea. Then to your face.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You smiled. It cracked a little at the corners. “Just tired. Long week.”

“Mm.” Florence didn’t nod, didn’t push. She simply walked to the cabinet and took down her own mug. “Do you want to come to bed?”

You hesitated. “I think I’ll stay up a bit.”

She turned, mug in hand, studying you. Not as a therapist. Just… as someone who knew you. Your ticks, your rhythms, your retreats.

She didn’t say Are you sure?

She didn’t say You don’t look fine.

She didn’t say I know what this is.

She just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“I’ll leave the lamp on.”

And she walked away.

You stayed in that chair a long time after she left. The cold tea. The silence. The tightness in your throat.

You’d gotten good at masking—at pulling the strings and animating your own marionette. Smile. Nod. “I’m fine.” The words came easy now.

You weren’t sure if it was courage or fear that kept you silent.

But you knew one thing: Florence saw it.

And for now, she was letting you come to her.

You weren’t sure what scared you more—being seen, or being loved anyway.

You’d managed to go three days without saying the words. I’m fine.

Instead, you’d relied on gestures. Shrugs. Half-smiles. Non-answers.

And Florence let you. To a point.

It was a Sunday afternoon when she finally stopped moving around you like you were breakable.

You were curled on the couch, a book open but unread in your lap. You hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. You didn’t need to—Florence had already read you from across the room.

She sat beside you, slow and careful, as if not to scare you off. Her hand reached for your knee, grounding, warm. You looked up.

“I don’t want to pry,” she said gently, “but I need to say this.”

Your chest tightened. You braced for it. The well-meaning therapy voice. The mirror held up. The logic.

But instead—

“I miss you.”

It hit deeper than you expected.

“I know you’re here,” she continued, brushing your hair back softly, “but it feels like you're only just barely here. Like something’s pulled you into a place I can’t follow.”

You blinked hard. Your throat was dry. You didn’t want to cry—you weren’t even sure you could. The tears had stopped coming days ago.

“I don’t want to make this worse,” you mumbled. “You have your own—God, you’re busy. I just… I didn’t want to be more weight.”

Florence’s hand cupped your cheek, her thumb tracing just below your eye. “Sweetheart. You are not weight. You are mine. You’re allowed to need care. Even from me.”

You swallowed, eyes fluttering shut at her touch. Your fingers curled around hers.

“You’re not weak,” she whispered. “You're human. And you’ve never once scared me away.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

But your head found her shoulder, slow and shaky, and she kissed your hair without another word.

Florence didn't try to fix you. She simply stayed beside you while the storm passed quietly through.

You grew comfortale in her arms, so much so that you didn’t know how long you’d been resting against her—only that her warmth had started to soften the knot in your chest.

Florence hadn’t moved once. Her hand had stayed at your back, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles. Not coaxing, not urging. Just… staying. Just being.

When you finally pulled back to look at her, your voice was quiet. “Thank you.”

Her expression didn’t shift from that calm, careful look—like you were sacred. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you.”

You tried to smile, and this time, it almost worked.

Florence leaned in and kissed your forehead. Then your temple. Then, slowly, down to the corner of your mouth. She paused there, hesitant.

“Can I kiss you properly?” she whispered, her voice like velvet stretched over concern.

You nodded. Soft, certain.

And her lips met yours with such impossible tenderness it made your chest ache.

The kiss deepened as your hands slipped into her shirt, seeking her warmth. Florence let out the faintest sound—half sigh, half something more wanting—and you felt it echo in your spine.

But still she took her time. Every kiss was careful, her hands never greedy. She pulled back just slightly, her eyes scanning your face.

“If this feels like too much, you’ll tell me?”

You nodded again, your fingers still tangled in the fabric at her waist.

“No,” you murmured. “I want you to stay. I want—” You faltered, cheeks flushing.

But Florence smiled, brushing her nose to yours.

“I want to stay, too,” she said. “Let me show you how much.”

Her lips trailed down your jaw as you leaned back into the pillows, breath catching with each small movement. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t ravenous. It was reverent.

“Still alright?” she asked quietly, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt.

You nodded, breath soft. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Florence kissed the center of your chest through the fabric. “You don’t have to be anything. You don’t have to perform. You just let me take care of you.”

You exhaled, trembling—not with fear, but with release. The tension you held so tightly all the time was slowly being unknotted by her hands, her voice, her gaze.

She helped you out of your shirt, then kissed the bare skin above your heart. “So beautiful,” she murmured, like it was a truth and not a compliment. “Do you feel it, even a little?”

You shook your head with a soft, broken sound. “Not really.”

Florence kissed you again. Not to correct you. Not to protest. Just to show you. Each kiss was a promise. Each soft stroke of her hand at your waist, over your ribs, was saying: You are safe. You are wanted.

When her hand slipped lower, she looked up again for permission.

“Yes,” you whispered, already arching into her. “Please.”

She touched you slowly, fingers drawing soft, wet circles. Her eyes never left yours.

You weren’t used to being looked at like this. Not like a body. Not like a burden. But like something precious. Her thumb swept over that tender spot, coaxing your legs open further as she pressed her palm gently down.

You gasped. She smiled faintly, whispering, “Good girl.”

The praise curled in your gut like warm honey. Her fingers moved inside you, slow and careful, drawing out soft whimpers and breathy, stunned sounds from your lips. You clung to her wrist, your thigh, her shoulder—needing to be anchored.

“You don’t have to hide,” Florence whispered against your neck, voice rough with restraint. “You’re allowed to be soft. You’re allowed to feel good.”

You cried out as you came, body curling forward. She caught you instantly, arms wrapping around you, stroking your back as you trembled.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “I’ve always got you.”

The next morning while it was still early, sunlight filtered through the blinds in streaks of gold, casting quiet patterns over the tangled sheets. You stirred gently, still wrapped in the scent of Florence’s skin, the warmth of her body curved behind yours.

She was already awake, of course—her arms tucked around you, one hand brushing idly through your hair.

“Mornin’,” you whispered, voice rough from sleep.

Her lips pressed softly to your shoulder. “Hi, darling.”

You turned slightly to see her, to watch the morning light catch in the strands of her hair, silver and soft. She looked so peaceful. You didn’t think you looked like that in the morning—more like a crumpled thing—but she was gazing at you like you were art.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice lower now, more serious.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so. Still feel a little… heavy. But it’s not crushing me.”

Her fingers slid over your arm, trailing warmth. “That’s good. That’s all we ask for some days.”

You let the silence hang a while, then added softly, “Last night… it wasn’t just sex. You know that, right?”

She smiled. “I know. But say it anyway.”

You blinked, then laughed gently. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me for it.”

You hesitated—but not for long. “I do.”

Florence leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good. Because I love you, too.”

The words dropped into your chest like a stone in still water—rippling, sinking deep, making space where something aching had once lived.

Eventually, she nudged your side. “C’mon. I made you breakfast.”

“You what?”

“I know. Me. Cooking. Shocking.”

You sat up, still sore in the best way, and watched as she padded across the room in one of your oversized shirts. The plate she returned with had toast, eggs, and cut-up strawberries shaped like little hearts.

You couldn’t help it. You started crying.

“Oh—shit—darling—what’s wrong?” she knelt beside you at once, putting the plate down, cradling your face in both hands.

You just shook your head, laughing through tears. “I’ve never felt this loved. Not like this.”

Florence pressed her forehead to yours. “You deserve to be cared for. Every day. Not just the good ones.”

You nodded against her, closing your eyes.

And for the first time in a long, long while… you truly believed her.

[charlie-shmarlie]

hello!

i absolutely adore your head canons!

i had a request if you dont mind, for playful headcanons about loki? we know he's mischievous lol but just general playful things he'd do with a lover, female if specific. thanks love!

Aww thank you, I'm glad you do! And I absolutely love that idea! Thank you for requesting <3

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How he likes to toy with you: Loki Odinson headcanons

Some headcanons of how Loki would like to mess around and tease reader ♡

Loki being a smug little jerk, established relationship, deep down he's a softie for you.

Requested <3

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So we all know Loki loves making trouble. Causing drama, or just toying with people to get reactions out of them. It's what he lives for, really. He's not called the god of mischief for being sweet and well-behaved, if you know what I mean.

So naturally, a relationship with him means lots of unexpected moments. Lots.

Such as returning home to find your room in an all-consuming darkness, only to have him further use his magic to scare you out of your mind and right into his arms.

Or, getting out of the shower/bath only to find that the clothes you had sitting out have mysteriously disappeared. Yep, he loves that one.

Or, or, him purposefully turning off your morning alarm the night before, so you wind up sleeping in with him and show up late to work.

Or, or, or, him shifting into someone else to pry information out of you that he specifically isn't supposed to know- such as any birthday or anniversary surprises you might have planned for him. Which only lasts so long until you realize it's him and then have to change plans all over again.

You shout the single word "LOKI!!" a lot.

The severity of his pranks and teases can range with him. They can either be small and barely noticeable. Or! Absolutely traumatizing.

Yeah, he considers that time he faked his death to be a "prank."

"YOU ASSHOLE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH?? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."

"....but I'm not ☝️"

He actually did feel pretty bad about that. But don't worry, he won't do it again.

Probably-

I'm just gonna say it, you've gotta have A LOT of patience to be in a relationship with this man.

Absolutely ADORES teasing you. He loves seeing you get all flustered and sputtering. To him, it's endearing that he can get such reactions out of you each time without fail.

But of course, he does try not to go too far with the teasing, although the line may get blurred at times. It's not that he wants to say or do something out of line, it's just- he can't entirely help it, you know? That's kind of his thing, pushing people to their limits and inevitably causing trouble.

But, that being said, if he ever does something that legitimately upsets you, he will apologize and try to make up for it. Maybe not directly- but he will make it up to you in his own way.

PLAYFUL BANTER. You bicker like an old married couple.

Loki has a great time embarrassing you by practicing pda in public, especially if he knows it flusters you. He'll be touching you and "sneaking" kisses all the time.

If you tease or prank him BACK?? Oh, you're cooked cause he is not gonna hold back next time. Sleep with one eye open, dear.

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[unanimousgolddd]

I love your Wesker series so much!! your writing of him is so good.... 🥹🥹🥹

Can we get a continuation if it, pretty please? slightly suggestive/NSFW is okay too!!

Date Night

Summary: What could go wrong going on a date with Dr. Wesker?

TW: pre-RE1 Wesker is possibly ooc, usage of pet name (love and lovely, sweetheart, pretty thing/pretty, dearest), implied fem Reader (they wear a dress and makeup), smut (w/ or w/o plot?) fingering, missionary, unsafe sex on a couch (please wear a condom or so help me), clothed sex (mostly on wesker's part), vulgar language (cunt, fuck, shit, dick), this just gave me a reason to try writing NSFW for the first time

Author's note: I'm so sorry; this would have been out sooner, but I'm dealing with some health issues (which worsen my anxiety and further rob me of actually writing) and I'm experiencing burnout because it’s summer break. This is also written for a fem reader only because I’m more familiar with that perspective and would rather not attempt writing a masc version poorly (since I'm a perfectionist). If this seems poorly written, I apologize; I'll rewrite it at a later date when I regain my special magical writing abilities.

Word Count: ~4.9k

Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 & Pt. 3

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Heavenly virtues and deadly sins. Charity and Greed, Chastity and Lust, Diligence and Sloth, Humility and Pride, Kindness and Envy, Patience and Wrath, Temperance and Gluttony. You were supposed to have virtues, the guides for your morals to make you a good person.

But patient wasn’t something you’d describe yourself as.

Dr. Wesker sent you the details two days before your planned Saturday date. The date was simple: He’d pick you up at 6:30 and drive you both to an authentic Italian restaurant in the nicer part of Raccoon City. The restaurant served fantastic pasta dishes, gorgeous desserts, and pastries. Although what wasn’t so simple was waiting and acting normal during work hours. Following your routine kept you sane, never drifting from the set order of events to keep you focused on the present.

Friday went as smoothly as any other; you woke up, went to work, and finally got off your shift. You and Dr. Wesker headed towards the parking garage together, partaking in a small conversation like usual. By the time you both stepped from the elevator, he reminded you of your date the following day, before he gave another lingering kiss and left you near your car with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

The excitement of having a date didn’t hit you until this morning after you ate breakfast. And after a realization, you became aware that you didn’t remember the last time you went on a proper date, especially not with a man like Wesker. If there was any. High school dates were cute, with boys bringing stereotypical roses (or not at all) and being too selfish to care about anything besides potentially getting into your pants. Perhaps that’s why you avoided dating like the plague, too worried that the next man (or actually boy) you came across would force you to lower your standards and settle for something not even half your worth. Perhaps that’s why you were so willing to go on a date with Wesker. Whether intentional or not, he made you want to be better, to seem like you deserved to have a chance with him, unlike the women and men who would incessantly suck up to him.

You had gone through your entire closet and dresser after breakfast, too much of a perfectionist not to mentally and physically prepare yourself even if it was seven hours before he picked you up. Most of your outfits screamed corporate instead of date, given how much Umbrella took most of your time, and it was hard enough trying to find a Spring or Summer outfit. But once it turned into two hours of indecisiveness and frustration, you decided on three options.

Option A was a light green floral patterned dress that came down three inches above your knees, hugged the shape of your waist, and was held up by two thinner straps. Option B was an all white off shouldered dress, making it very susceptible to staining from possible spills of food. The flowy skirt came lower and ended near the top of your shins and featured two long pieces of fabric around your waist to tie back to make a cute bow. The last dress, option C, was much slimmer and showed off your figure more than your work outfits did. It was another floral-patterned dress, however, the flowers were much larger and spaced out, with the soft pink colors complementing the white fabric, and it was held up by much thicker straps. All three dresses could be complemented with a cute Hawaiian flower clip that rested on your dresser.

Now running behind, although not really, you hurriedly grabbed your shower products and hopped into the shower. With a determination to look like a deity of beauty (and smell like one), vanilla-scented wash was your friend. You shaved your legs and other areas like your life were on the line. Your face was cleaned with the more special occasion products. Your hair was thoroughly conditioned and was soon wrapped up in a towel to be taken care of. Out of the shower and drying off, you quickly got to work with making sure your body was moisturized and silky smooth. Your makeup comes next.

You wanted to go with a simpler look, given that makeup wasn’t a specialty of yours and because you’d rather not experience the icky feeling of makeup on a hot day. Minimal concealer was applied to certain parts of your face, mascara on your lashes, quick eyeliner that brought the color of your eyes out, and a pretty pale pink lip gloss on your lips. You tackled the mess of your hair, separating it into sections and detangling before adding products to complete the look. Finally, you were left with deciding what to wear between the three options.

After staring at the outfits laid on your bed and their matching shoes underneath them, you decided to wear option C. You sighed as you looked in the mirror, eyes moving from your hair to your face, then down your neck, chest, and dress, and to your legs. It was odd wearing a dress after wearing pants and a shirt for so long. It was odd finally doing something other than eat, work, sleep, and repeat. But you didn’t entirely mind it.

You put your jewelry on, handling the delicate chains around your neck and wrists. Taking the cute flower clip, you added it to your hair and gave a smile to yourself in the mirror. You grabbed your purse, heels, and your phone to your living room. It would be a little while until Wesker showed.

༺♰༻

You perked up, and anxiousness flooded your system the moment you heard a knock on your front door. Quickly putting on the pale pink heels and spraying a little bit of vanilla perfume, you came to the door. With a breath, you turned the deadbolt and the knob before opening it. There stood Dr. Wesker. His appearance was just as sharp as usual, a crisp navy button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black slacks. A watch glimmered in the evening sun on his left wrist, reminding you that Wesker was paid more than you could ever imagine. He held a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the same hand.

“You remembered.” You murmured, a smile slowly appearing on your lips. He reached his hand out and handed them to you, the bouquet looking much larger in your hands than his.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked. His gaze followed you from behind the dark lenses, watching while you made quick work of filling a vase with water and taking care of the flowers. You didn’t have the heart to embarrass yourself by explaining why you thought he wouldn’t remember a little detail you mentioned in a passing conversation.

You grabbed your purse, which contained your phone, keys, some makeup, and other belongings, before walking back to your front door. You stepped out, closed and locked the front door behind you, before Wesker led you to his car with his hand on your lower back.

You both rounded the curve of the car, and he opened the passenger door for you. Once you were inside and your seatbelt was strapped over you, he was sitting down on his side of the car. It wasn’t long before he was driving out of your neighborhood and driving to the restaurant. You began a simple conversation to get rid of the silence that filled nervousness in your stomach. “I’m surprised you even suggested this.” You said, running your fingers over the texture of your purse. “Why?” He asked, turning on his turn signal, and turned the steering wheel to the right. “Though you were all business and no relationships.” You said a little quieter.

You heard him hum as you looked over at him. The only indication he glanced back at you was the slight tilt of his head in your direction. “There are many things you don’t know about me, lovely.” He said, slowly applying pressure onto the brake as he neared the traffic lights. You nodded slightly and looked out the tinted windows of his car, staring at the buildings are they went by. Eventually, Wesker rolled into a parking lot, and you found your eyes resting on his forearms as he handled the steering wheel and gear shifter between you two. He put the car in park and pulled the keys from the ignition before getting out, moving around the car, and opening your door once more. He held his hand out, and you smiled at him as you took it, standing up and grabbing your purse.

With his hand back on your lower back, he walked with you to the restaurant. Traditional arches and columns made up most of its exterior, while the inside held Mediterranean colors of earthy terracotta and olive green, and bright blues and yellows. You stopped at the counter as the host asked for the reservation information before taking you both to an available table in a far corner of the restaurant, allowing you both a bit of privacy. Once you sat down, it wasn’t long until a server came by, asking for both your drink and meal of choice. The server took both of your menus and promptly left as Wesker looked over at you from across the table, his forearms on the clean wooden surface. You glanced down at his interlocked hands before looking back at his shades.

“Do you always take your coworkers on dates?” You asked, fingers itching to nervously fidget with the ring on your right middle finger. “Only the ones that deserve it.” He responded.

You raised a brow, your head tilting to the left ten degrees. “Oh? So, you’re implying I deserve it.” You muttered.

“I thought we already established this,” he said with a light, amused sigh. You knew he was looking at you, even with the shades on the bridge of his nose, the heat of his gaze trailing over your hair, face, neck, possibly even your chest, and then your hands. “I believe…” He trailed off for a moment, meticulously choosing his words. “I believe you deserve this date because your presence does not irritate me, nor does it make me wish for a different assistant.” He explained to you as the server came by with your drinks. They placed the glasses of red wine on the table, along with the bottle, before leaving once more.

You figured he would’ve left it at that, but he continued to speak. “You are efficient and organized in your work. The office is always kept clean, thanks to you. Never are you loud, and you stay focused, which both alleviates the workload and my headache.” He said before swirling the wine in the glass, fingers holding onto the stem. He lifted the glass and took a sip of the red liquid, your eyes switching between his fingers and his lips. You find yourself smiling when you finally understand the meaning of his words. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s not often you give those.” You said softly before raising your glass and taking a sip.

“Are you implying I should compliment you more?” He asked bluntly, using the suddenness of his words to throw you off guard. You almost choked, quickly setting down the glass of wine before you spilled it on yourself. You cleared your throat and looked at him, catching the small smirk on his lips before it faded. “That is not what I was implying. However,” you paused, making sure not to make a fool of yourself in front of your date. “It would be nice if you did.” You said. Wesker gave a hum as an answer.

“Well, you look wonderful tonight, love.” He complimented as his hand reached out, moving to gently tuck a stubborn strand in front of your face behind your ear. And just as his finger brushed your cheek, his hand was gone and back in front of him. You flashed a bashful smile, ignoring the light heat that dusted across your cheeks.

The conversation carried on, undertones of flirtation becoming more and more prominent. Then, the food came.

“Here’s your cacio e pepe,” the server said, setting down your pasta plate in front of you. “And here’s your gnocchi with pesto.” They said, placing Wesker’s dish in front of him. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” They smiled before leaving.

Needless to say, with the first bite of your pasta, you were already hoping to come to this restaurant again. “This is so good…” You mumbled after thoroughly chewing. You took another bite, making sure not to get any of the cheese onto your face or dress. “I’m glad. I was hoping you’d like this place.” He said before beginning to eat.

When both of you finished your drinks and meal, the server came around to take your dishes and hand dessert menus.

“Would you like tiramisu or perhaps lemon ricotta cake?” He asked, labeling a few of the items. You leaned your head against your hand, elbow planted on the table. You hummed, thinking over your options as you played with your ring. “I want…cannolis.” You finally decide, and Wesker sets the dessert menu down.

“Good choice.” He said with obvious approval. Dessert came around fast, and you ate the cannolis provided.

“Can’t believe I’ve never had a cannoli before this.” You murmured, quickly grabbing another to put in your mouth. “I’m surprised you’ve never had cannolis before either.” He said with amusement. When you looked at him, the usual furrow in his brow was gone, and he looked almost happy.

The next hour was a blur. One moment you were standing after he paid the bill, the next he was taking you back to the car, and the next he was driving you back home. You watched as he reversed out of the parking space, his hand on the back of your seat as he looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing. His forearm flexed, and his brow furrowed, the crease between the middle returning. You bit your lower lip and looked away from him, deciding to focus on the dark outside and the moon.

Wesker put the car in drive and drove out of the parking lot of the restaurant. Neither of you said anything. Your eyes fell on him again, watching as he turned and held the wheel. Your fingers gained the itch. It wasn’t the same itch that wanted to fidget, it was the same itch that wanted to touch, to squeeze, and grip with all its might. It felt raw and uncontrollable, it felt similar to cuteness aggression.

“You’re staring again,” Wesker said, his voice breaking the silence. But unlike before, you didn’t look away from him. Instead, you turned your body as much as you could towards him. “Something piqued your interest?” He asked, momentarily turning his head to look at you.

“It’s childish.” You said in a quiet voice. “Childish?” He repeated, as if curious at the use of that particular adjective.

“I wanna claw at you like an animal.” You murmured. Wesker’s brow raised in surprise, not believing you’d say such a thing. “Do you really?” He asked, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He made himself focus on the road and the other cars, refusing to properly acknowledge your blatant staring. You nodded at his question, continuing to stare like your life depended on it. You didn’t notice the speedometer rising.

“What else do you want to do, pretty thing?” He asked, voice low and dry like he was still recovering from your previous sentence. You sat up in the passenger seat, positioning your purse onto the floor of the car instead of your lap. Your left hand reached out and trailed your finger over the imprint of his bicep, feeling the flex of his muscle every time he made a turn. “I wanna touch and squeeze and…” You stopped your sentence, suddenly remembering where you were and who you were with, and backed off. You placed your hands back in your lap.

“No, no, don’t get shy suddenly,” Wesker said, making another left turn before suddenly putting the car in park. You looked out the window and realized you were already home, the car parked on the street in front of your home. When you looked back at Wesker, his body was turned towards you, the key already out of the ignition. “If you’re going to start something, you know better than to leave it unfinished.” He murmured, hand on your chin to keep you from looking away. His thumb brushed against the outline of your lips, almost tugging on your bottom lip, before he suddenly moved from you. He exited the car and promptly opened your car door. He helped you out once more, letting you grab your belongings before he turned you around.

“What else do you want to do?” He asked once more, his hands resting on your hips. You swallowed and looked up at his sunglasses. “Kiss you, touch you, squeeze you.” You whispered, and he smirked. “Well, I believe you’ve earned that right, haven’t you?” He said, shutting the car door. You began to walk backwards as he walked forwards, hand fishing for your keys as you came to your front door. He wasn’t going to leave, and you didn’t want him to. He let you turn around to unlock the door, fingers moving up to your waist and squeezing lightly. He leaned his head down, taking a breath of your hair before moving down to your neck as you opened the door. “You smell like honey and vanilla.” He noted, and you gave a short nod, too flustered to speak. When you walked forward, he walked forward, shutting the door with his foot and locking it with one hand. You moved into the living room and tossed your purse, only for Wesker to bring you back against his chest.

“Tell me… how long have you felt like this?” He asked, and at first, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Even before that incident with Maria, before I truly became close to you, I’ve noticed the looks you give me.” He murmured, lips beginning to press against the side of your neck and shoulder after he pushed the strap of the dress off your shoulder.

“You looked needy, as if you were denied water in a desert.” He said, fingers running over every curve and dip of your front. “When was the last time someone took care of you, hmm?” He asked, nose nudging the side of your throat. Your mouth opened to answer, but initially, all you gave was a short and light breath. The heat that you don’t remember ever forming grew worse in your lower belly, your underwear sticking to you uncomfortably. “I don’t remember.” You answered finally, and he chuckled. “Don’t remember? Perhaps it is long overdue.” He whispered.

He moved you to your couch, guiding your back onto the armrest. He took his place between your legs, fingers undoing the strap of your heels and taking them off your feet. He placed them somewhere near the coffee table, and you reached up, pulling his shades off. “I hate these things.” You said before leaning up and kissing him. His hands, initially placed on your stomach, moved down to your thighs, thumbs swirling circles onto the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The shades dropped somewhere, and he grunted at the soft thump of them hitting the floor. Your hands moved up his arms to his shoulders, softly digging into the muscles underneath the fabric of his shirt before moving to the buttons of his shirt. He tilted his head to the right, deepening the kiss as your fingers began to unclasp the buttons,

He pulled away from your lips and began to kiss down your jaw and neck, hands momentarily leaving your thighs to brush away the straps of your dress. Your mouth opened to take a deep breath, eyes fluttering with every press of his lips to your skin. He moved the collar of your dress down little by little until the straps were off your arms and the collar was lying on the middle of your stomach. “I’ll admit,” he murmured against the skin of your sternum. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.” He said, glancing up at you. He leaned up to kiss you once more. His hands moved to your backside, one lifting your back and the other moving upward to unclasp the bra you wore. When it was finally loose, he pulled the straps off your shoulders and removed it without parting from your lips. Next thing you knew, his left thumb was toying with your hardening nipple as his mouth came around your other, tongue flicking the bud. Your hand, now unoccupied, ran through his hair, messing up the once neatly slicked back hair.

Your breaths came out as pants as he switched to your other breast, pressing kisses and light bites before toying with your nipple with his tongue. He hummed, his left hand moving downwards once more. This time, instead of resting on your thigh, it trailed upwards. He rolled the skirt of your dress upwards, letting it rest on your hips. “Perhaps, it would be better if this were pulled off too, wouldn’t it?” He said, finally unlatching his mouth from your breast.

He helped lift your hips and pulled the dress completely off, sliding it over your legs before tossing it somewhere in the room. Feeling too exposed, you grabbed his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders. He chuckled, taking care of the rest and tossing the dark blue shirt somewhere. “Eager, aren’t you?” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “Is that a crime–” Your sentence was cut off when you felt his thumb suddenly press against the wet patch of your underwear. A breathy, barely inaudible moan escaped your lips, and you looked away from Wesker.

“Eyes,” he said, his other hand coming up and pulling your chin back to make you face him. “On me, pretty thing.” He murmured, fingers beginning to hook into the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips, and he pulled the article of clothing off, thumb coming back down, and began to press firm circles. He made sure you never looked away from him, a smirk on his lips. His fingers, dipped into your slick, moved to your entrance. Your legs twitched, trying to close on his arm, however, he quickly parted them open once more. “None of that, pretty thing. C’mon, keep them legs open for me, yes?” He murmured as he eased two fingers into your dripping heat. Your hand came from your side and grabbed a cushion.

His fingers began to move back and forth, working you open little by little. You gasped for air, his thumb continuing to press circles onto your clit. “That’s it…” He praised, the muscles on his forearm flexing as your other hand grabbed onto it, he chuckled in response. He angled his fingers just right, the pads of his fingers hitting the spongy spot, and you cried out, voice louder than you would have liked. “Keep doing it like that…” You said in a mix of gasps and moans.

He leaned down and kissed you, your previously coordinated kissing soon turned sloppy as he pumped his fingers faster. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and touching the once clean couch cushions. Soon enough, the muscles of your thighs tightened around Wesker’s body, and the coil in your core had coiled so unbelievably tight that the force of an organism hit you like a truck. With the help of Wesker’s mouth over yours, he drowned out the loud moans you made as you gushed over his fingers.

When you finally came down to your senses, he pulled his fingers from your fluttering cunt and brought them to his mouth. You watched him lap at your slick and cum, tongue swirling around his digits. His fingers exited his mouth with a loud pop and he bent down to kiss you, tongue entering your mouth and giving you a taste of your own cum.

Your hand trailing down his chest, fingers feeling the muscles of his abdomen, and stopping at the fly of his pants. You were suddenly aware of his bulge, the imprint looking as big as your palm. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, lovely.” He murmured and guided your hand in unzipping his fly and unclasping the button. He pulled both his boxers and slacks down just far enough to free his cock. The soft pink tip was decorated with beads of pre. You looked up at his face, his lips a deep red from the kissing. “Gonna sound so pretty, won’t you?” He whispered, slowly lining himself with your entrance. When he finally moved, easing the bulbous head into your tight walls, he hissed. “Breathe. You’re already so tight.” He said, words dragging out a little. You did what he asked and breathed, attempting to relax a little as he fully sheathed himself in you. You let out a whine, and Wesker placed his hands on your hips, preventing you from moving too much. After letting you adjust to his size, the incomparable girth stretching you out, he began to rock his hips back and forth. Your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut, only for him to stop moving.

“What did I say?” He said, tapping your cheek and making you open your eyes. “Eyes on me.” He said before his hands tightened around your hips. You grabbed onto a cushion once more, moaning and whining every time he slammed his hips up into you. It was a slow but deep pace, his dick seemingly reaching deep into your stomach and touching your intestines. You kept your eyes on him, maintaining eye contact.

“Look at you,” he said with a chuckle, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. “So pretty. Sounds pretty too.” He murmured before suddenly slamming his hips into your cunt like his life depended on it, the sudden shift change sending you into a frenzy. You moaned and grabbed onto Wesker with both hands.

“Too much–” You whined. “But this tight cunt is saying otherwise, it keeps sucking me in.” He chuckled, the sound low and throaty. You pleaded with him, a train of slurring “please”s leaving your lips. He only continued his fast pace, driving his cock deeper and deeper. You tightened around him, and he groaned, sticking his face into your neck. You could hear him take greedy breaths of the vanilla scent you put on earlier before kissing and biting your neck.

“I…I…” You could barely speak, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling as the coil in your core finally unwinded and you came around Wesker’s cock with a loud cry. His hips began to stutter, groans and barely audible moans. “Shit…So fucking tight, can barely move.” He huffed, his strokes becoming sloppier and sloppier until he came and coated your insides white.

The two of you panted, skin sweaty, and your limbs boneless. He slowly leaned up from your neck, eyes falling onto your disheveled appearance. He chuckled as if he still wasn’t six inches deep in you. You, in your post-orgasmic state, had not a single thought in your brain. “Perhaps, I should’ve done this long ago.” He said, slowly pulling from you. You whined before leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You felt him move away from you, and the click of his shoes. It was silent for a moment or two before he came back.

“Where’d you go?” You murmured, not bothering to open your eyes. “I went to find where your bathroom and bedroom were.” He answered, sliding his arm behind your back and under your legs. He picked you up and carried you to your bathroom, sitting you on top of the toilet seat. He left the room to allow you a moment of privacy to do your business (remember to always use the bathroom after sex, guys), which could have been easier if your legs were so weak. When you opened the bathroom door, he helped you walk to your bed a few feet away, his hands on your hips.

He had already moved the bedsheets, allowing easy access to lie down quickly. He laid you down, and before he could even pull away, your hand reached out and grabbed him. “Don’t leave.” You murmured, eyes barely open. The corner of Wesker’s lips curled, and he gave you a small smile. “Dearest, who said I was leaving?” He said, and your grip on him loosened. He moved to the other side of your bed and took off his slacks, choosing to sleep in his boxers. You turned on your left side, facing him as he climbed into bed next to you. You placed your head on his chest, tucked underneath his chin, as his arms wrapped around you.

“Does this mean a second date?” You asked quietly.

He gave a short laugh. “It means as many dates as you want.” He whispered.

You could faintly feel Wesker kiss the top of your head, his hand drawing circles on your bare back as you went to sleep, breathing evening, and your body stilling.

[sakruisin-thru]

the one where you and daichi finally fall into place pt. 2

featuring: sawamura daichi x f!reader

genre: smut/fluff (minors dni), post-grad au!, tipsy reader & daichi

warning: smut, mutual pining, femme poc reader, p in v, oral sex, dry humping, honestly this is so self indulgent (i started this when i was in academic research and needed an escape of that hell), did not proof read soz.

word count: 3068

find pt 1 here!

(a/n: i am so sorry for the delay here! i got laid off in feb from my job (yay tech) and applied to graduate school, got in and now set to move in a couple days. it's been a lot and i'm trying my best to keep up with the things that make me happy. thank u @kurodoroppu for being such a great friend and pushing me to write love u)

“darling,” he whispers against your lips, “say something please. i won’t touch you until you say what you need from me.” 

you pull away and give him an imposing look. his eyes held sweetness, kindness and...fear? always the leader, he was calculating. he was double checking...no...triple checking that you were okay with this.

“i can’t run away from it anymore, daichi,” you cup his face, “i'm so sorry for making you wait for this long. im ready. i want you.”

“fuck.” and with that he smashes his lips against you again.

his hands wind up from your hips, up your breasts, your neck and land on your face. he cannot get enough. he’s kissed you before, he’s touched you (over clothes), he’s felt your body against his, yet, his body is on fucking fire. 

he grabs you by your ass, picks you up off the table and throws you on the bed onto your back. you knew he was strong, but seeing his ability to toss your around made you swoon. you look at him through your eyelashes. he’s breathing hard. he’s looking at you in a depraved way you’ve never seen him. he must have hidden this ferocity from you. 

it doesn't click but, oh baby girl, he’s famished. 

he makes his way to you, taking his outer layer shirt off first, leaving on his white undershirt. he captures your lips again, weaving his fingers in your hair and rolls his hips into yours. you feel his clothed cock rub against your leg, then your covered pussy, and you experience another wave of pleasure. 

“i wanna give you a little taste of your teasing tonight, darling.” his deep voice rumbling in your ear. you shiver. 

“what teasing, daichi?” you look at him with wide eyes, trying to feign innocence. he draws back his hips, snaps them to you, and goes back into a steady grind against your clothed groins.

he moans oh so sweetly as he looks at you and says, “don’t play dirty, honey. i’m not interested in this back and forth tonight. you riled me up, it’s only fair i return the favor”. 

he brings his mouth to swallow your moans. he’s kissing you like he loves you, and moving his hips like he’s fucking you. he’s grabbing onto your breasts, your hips, your ass as if he’ll spin out into space. you’re still fully clothed, but he’s still driving you wild, building up that pressure deep in your belly. 

you can’t keep track of time of how long he’s been mock making love to you, but both your patience is wearing thin. he finally makes a move to your neck, sucking roughly around the space.  

“dai….,” you whine, “i don’t have enough makeup to hide your marks.”

he laughs darkly against your neck, “mmm but baby where’s the fun in all of that?”

you run your fingers through his hair, “we’re presenting our life's work to well known researchers, i cannot --mmph!” daichi silences you quickly with his lips, “okay okay fine. but mostly because i don’t think i could focus around you if i saw those marks.”

you start giggling, and he pulls away to study your face. he joins in your giggle fits and you decide to take control and push his chest, so he falls on his back. 

he’s surprised, but smiles warmly up at you, welcoming the change of scenery. from his position, your deep skin has a pink flush. he’s never seen you more breathless, never seen you glow so much.

as you move to sit on top of his throbbing erection, his hands make their way to your plush waist. he bucks his hips, getting you to groan again. he starts his pace again, aiming to drive you wild, as pay back for the club. 

no, no, this isn’t how you wanted this to go. you put your hands on his chest, signaling for him to stop and level your gaze with his. “let me take care of you tonight, honey,” you say lightly.

it was a simple phrase, but it was enough to make tears well up in daichi’s eyes. how much have people depended on him, that he's the one who's been the caretaker, the responsible one. it begs the question, has he ever been taken care of?

you take notice of the fleeting emotion and place a kiss on his mouth, then to both of his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes. “all mine.” you whisper against them. he grunts in response, your possessiveness lights up his nerves. 

you make your way down to daichi’s neck, returning the favor of kissing and sucking and drawing out those bloody gorgeous moans from him. your body drinks up every single noise and you keep getting wetter.

you bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it off of him. you’ve seen him shirtless a handful of times, but none as divine as this moment. he stayed active since starting graduate school, keeping his body sculpted, but has that layer of fat that just makes him look so inviting. god, he is beautiful.

he laughs breathlessly. “thank you, love. you’re just as stunning.” you realize you spoke out loud. you blush and hide your face from your slight humiliation straight into his chest. his hands are roaming your shoulders, gracing your neck, he can’t touch you enough. 

you kiss across his chest, testing the waters by taking one of his nipples in your mouth. he groans lowly, “oh god baby, don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.” 

that only spurs you on. you go back to taking one of his nipples and sucking hard. one hand flies into your hair, the other grips the sheets. in between your kisses and his groans, you drop your hands further down his torso. you lock eyes with him and drag your tongue up and down his abs. you suck a hickey into one of them. you let him toss his head back, as he tried to keep his composure, but his groans betray his pleasure.

“let’s take these off, daichi.” you swiftly take off his pants and start palming him through his boxers, and oh boy does he whine. you’re shocked. you never thought he would be willing to put down the tough man facade, but you’ve wound him up so much he can’t even remotely hide how he feels. 

you think you should ease up on torturing him, but it’s too good having your way with him. the funniest part, he’s letting you get away with it.

you add more fuel to the fire, “i’ve been dreaming of your cock for so long.”

he rises to his elbows. he watches you with a bated breath. you really are his dream woman, he thinks, as you peel his boxers down centimetre by centimetre.

 “i can’t wait to taste you, dai.” he fights rolling his eyes back into his head.

“please angel, i need something. i need you to give me something,” he starts to grown and oh, you could get used to the sound of him begging. 

“mmm okay baby, just because you’ve been such a sweet,” you place one kiss on his left hip, 

“darling,” another on his right hip, 

“kind,” you pull his boxer band down faster. 

“man to me.” he shudders, throwing his hand over his eyes. you pull his boxers down fully. nothing could prepare you for what his cock actually looked like.

it's the perfect length. long enough that doesn't make you fear for your insides. the part that does worry you is how thick he is. your hand doesn’t even go completely around his girth, but you squeeze firmly and give an experimental tug of him towards your face. you're determined to make it work

daichi breathes in sharply and grips the sheets tightly. you pump him one, two, three times to get him to attention fully and then you lean forward to lick his tip gently.

daichi throws his head back. he tries to keep himself anchored to the sheets. he’s waited this long to have you, he could wait a little while longer, right? wrong. “more.” he pleads, winding his fingers through your locks.

you give his tip a swirl of the tongue one way, and then swirled the other way. when you catch the spot on the under side of his cock, daichi is left a loud, groaning mess. you glance at him through your eyelashes, and he looks like he's in a personal call with god.

his lips are wet from saliva and slightly parted, his hand is covering his eyes, and his neck and chest is flushed red. you tap his thigh and his eyes snap to you.

"eyes on me, dai." you whispered lowly, his cock sitting so beautifully on your face. his heart was going to burst out of his chest, his cock throbbed with the way you spoke with him with such authority.

you keep working his length, drawing out each of those beautiful moans. his eyes never left you even as you work on sucking his large tip and working the rest with your hand. the hand in your hair pulls you up lightly.

"baby, if you don't stop...i-i'm gonna cum." he groans weakly.

"mm, daichi, what if that's what i want?" you ask innocently.

"if that's what you want, i'm not gonna be able to take care of you how we both want, so decide carefully love." he brings his hand off eyes.

you think, still slowly pumping him. "fair enough." you release him and begin to move to level yourself with him, never leaving his hungry eyes. he pulls you simultaneously to smash your lips to his.

in one swift movement he flips you onto your back, never leaving the kiss. you yelp into mouth, as he resumes your initial position of grinding. there's no way he could have gotten hotter to you, but he's proved you wrong every time.

daichi reaches to unlace your legs that are wrapped around his waist. "you need less clothes on," he grumbles, "can't believe you got me naked before i did you."

"are you pouting?" you laugh out, "the mighty daichi...pouting?!" you find this hysterical.

however,

he doesn't find the situation as funny as you. his hands impatiently yanking your dress off, pulling the offending material off your body and unhooks your bra next. his eyes are drawn immediately to your chest.

"you're stunning, angel." daichi breathes out. he grabs two handfuls of your breast, making you whine at the sensation. he's massaging them between his hands and you let out a noise of sin. the pleasure zip from your temples, through your spine, straight down to where you needed daichi the most. your mind and body feels weightless.

he moves his hands lower and pulls your panties down. he throws them over his shoulder and unceremoniously lowers himself to come face to face to your cunt. he grips your thighs and spreads them open. you gasp, feeling like your body was set alight.

he licks once on the left side of your entrance, twice on the right side, barely misses your clit. he's teasing you but not being gentle with you. the grip on your thighs is rough, and he's teasing your lower regions with quick licks. no he's not being gentle at all. he wants to overwhelm your senses. you know what he's asking.

"dai...baby, please." he looks up to a beautiful sight. you're perched up on your elbows, with your eyes hooded, lips pouting. he smirks devilishly at you. without another word, he licks one stripe at your core, from your entrance to your clit.

your thighs quiver and throw your head back with a guttural groan. his tongue just catches your entrance and it feels like heaven.he stops suddenly, and he starts kissing your thighs. he touches you anywhere but your center.

"daichi, please keep going." you look at him mournfully, eyebrows up turned.

"where do you want me love?" he licks and kisses among the skin of your inner thighs and your center. “lower.” you whine.

"here?" and irritatingly places fluttering kisses around your clit.

"n-n-no daichi. i need your tongue o-on my clit. i need to cum on your tongue, need every part of you to have me cum. just touch me please, honey."

he already knew he was going to marry you, but this moment just validated his feelings. there was this unspoken need to be claimed by each other. he dives right back into your thighs and sucks right onto your clit, returning to that same brutal pace. more and more he's working you up with his tongue inside of you, you're clutching your breasts, trying to center yourself. his fingers enter the mix and throws you straight into heavenly bliss

daichi gets you to your climax sooner than any vibrator or dildo could do. your eyes are fluttering shut, your thighs are squeezing and relaxing around daichi's head (not that he minds), your back is arching off the bed, and your cunt.....oh my god your cunt is pulsing and daichi is simply looking like a man deep in love.

"cum on my face for me, my angel. i'll fuck you right after i promise. just give me one," his voice is so strained, "let me prepare you for my cock."

one more press of his fingers in you sent you into a frenzy. your thighs around daichi's head started shaking and your already loud moans became variations of daichi's name, profanities, and declarations of finishing. he continues to let you ride out your orgasm as you desperately clench onto his fingers. he detaches from your lips and looks straight at your cum oozing from you.

"so fucking pretty." he says to himself.

you tap on his shoulders to have him come back up to you. daichi slots his lips with yours, as you continue panting from your previous orgasm. the taste of your arousal from his mouth mixes with the taste of his in your mouth. you both groan loudly.

daichi shifts his hips slightly, his cock head bumps into your sensitive clit.

"oo!" you squeal from the sudden stimulation. he smiles sheepishly at you.

"we can stop," he says seriously, albeit mournfully, "this is the furthest we've gone."

"god, please just fuck me dai." you whine. he's taken aback, but doesn't hesitate to move his hips back and guide his cock head into your entrance.

oh my word, the stretch is brutal and leaves you whimpering. he moves the tip and the first into your still sensitive, velvety cunt. seeing his dick was not enough to fully come to terms with how big it actually is.

"fuuuck. how are you so tight still, angel?" his face flushes and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best not to fully rut into you. you on the other hand, are feeling the burn, but you want to be wrecked.

"push through it. i want it all." you bite your lip. daichi looks at you again in surprise.

"i don't want to h--",

"you're not going to. i need you to fuck me."

daichi inhales sharply, slowly pulls his hips back and slams his cock fully into you. the entire stretch of him in your cunt has you in shambles. you're a moaning mess --

"holy fuck." you respond to his steady and strong pace with a loud moan. he moves your legs from his waist to sit on his shoulders and presses himself down to you. now you can feel him even deeper and hitting your most sensitive spot. he's kissing you, he's wrecking you, he's starting to lose his composure.

how many moons has he gone by touching himself to the sheer idea of feeling your soft, velvety walls? how long as he dreamt of you in this position, whining for him? craving him? letting him take care of you?

you start to see stars, as your eyes roll back. as soon as your eyes are shut, you feel one smack on your ass. you look at daichi quickly, and see his eyes boring deep into yours.

"eyes on me, sweetheart. i want to see you lose it." he growls lowly. he takes you out of mating press, and sits up on his knees. your legs are now straight up, as he fucks in to you. you feel him rub your clit as you feel your arousal reaching the crest again.

this time you feel your whole body floating.

you grab onto his arm to pull him closer, "i'm...i'm going to cum again."

he grunts against your lips, "oh fuck, please please cum on my cock."

you don't respond, you only focus on the steady and harsh smack of his hips against yours and how his fingers are rubbing your clit so expertly. you come undone in a matter of seconds. this time, you come twice as hard as the first, clenching his cock so hard that he yelps. you wrap your legs around his waist as you hold on for dear life

"fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" and you feel the rush of him arrive inside of you.

as you come down from your high, you start to feel the sheer wait of daichi on you.

"that...was an accident." you hear him say sheepishly, as he's tucked in the crook of your neck.

"what was?" you play with his hair.

"i came too fast...and came inside." he hides his face.

you just shrug. "i can be worried about that if i wasn't taking necessary precautions. besides, it was hot knowing you came that fast because of...what we were doing." now it was your turn to be bashful.

he lifts his head from your neck to take a good look at you. "let me take you out tomorrow. on a proper date. i want the opportunity to ask you to be mine. i want to give you that type of romance. i want to sweep you off your feet."

you feel your heart skip a beat.

"okay dai. tomorrow it is." you smile softly at him. because this time, you were ready to stop running away from what you knew to be right for you. you were ready to accept the love that was waiting patiently at your door. you were ready to jump right into this with him.

[amethystina]

I just wanted to say thank you

For the past couple of days, I've been at a huge book fair as a part of my job and when I wasn't manning our booth, I could go on the various seminars and lectures that were being held. And, during one of them, an author was recounting how moved she'd been when one of her readers had reached out to let her know just how much her book had meant to that reader.

And, as I was watching this author struggling to hold back tears, it struck me just how often I've felt the same. That, more than once, someone has reached out to me to tell me that my writing has helped them through a rough time or maybe even changed their life. Maybe the latter is a bit of a hyperbole but, at the same time, I have no doubt that, sometimes, it wasn't.

And that just blows my mind. Not only that I'm capable of writing something that can touch people's lives to that degree, but that my readers are also willing to reach out to me and tell me when that has happened.

I will forever be grateful for that.

So thank you so, so much to all of you who have done so. But I also want to thank those of you who haven't. If my writing has moved you in any way, whether you've let me know or not, I'm thankful. I'm thankful that you gave me the opportunity to move you and I hope that the experience made your life better. Remembering that I've been able to bring so much joy and meaning to other people's lives has definitely been the highlight of my life these past couple of (admittedly rough) weeks.

So thank you all so, so much.

I love you 💜

[soothedcerberus]

Erik!! I keep seeing your adorable centaur OCs and I always wanted to ask what's the story behind them??

Plushi!! Sorry for the mega-late reply… 🥺I was so happy to get this ask but I didn't know how to explain my silly ocs…I will try now-more under the cut.

Dael Braam (dwarf) is a cooped up farmhand looking to see the world, but being immune-compromised from birth it took a lot of persuasion to convince her parents to let them go. They relent under the condition that she finds a capable and strong person to travel with to keep her safe… Just so happens that a strong and capable centaur knight is visiting in town…

Rembrandt (horsey) was created from a dark fusion spell by an amateur mage, who had intentions to construct a powerful warrior to do his bidding.

However, the spell cast did not result in a powerful and fully-armored warrior…. but instead a frail baby knight centaur, with only its top half made of living armor. The mage, not wanting to raise any kind of child, promptly abandons his creation. He can always try to make another one after all.

Into adulthood, Rembrandt still carries a lot of pent-up abandonment and self-esteem issues. You wouldn't know that from the proud facade he puts on though, lying about being a royal knight yet helping all those he comes across with a smile, but never staying long. When the opportunity of having a long-term travel companion (and perhaps a friend…?) arises from Dael requiring a bodyguard, his craving for companionship and affirmation outweighs his worries about her seeing eldritch elements of himself.

Dirk (beefy dragon thing) is the second (and more "successful") attempt from the same mage to create a powerful monster. Think Rembrandt's "big evil" brother. Except he's quite a bit younger. Dirk emerged fully-developed except for his wings-which remain as little nubs. Despite his brawn and warrior-appearance, Dirk was mostly a glorified errand boy, using his impressive strength to terrorize the nearby towns and their land-collecting resources for the mage.

Dael and Rembrandt meet Dirk after hearing word of a giant dragon-knight ravaging villages (and their livestock yum yum).

(I also like the idea of the mage sending Dirk to capture Rembrandt + Dael when he recognizes is his first attempt is not only alive and strong, but also quite proficient in battle.)

One way or another Dirk ends up roaming with the two. At first, Dirk is over-confident, rude, and stubborn... Overall a huge pain for them to travel with. After being shown kindness for the first time and being subject to more than a few humbling situations, Dirk allows a protective, loyal and softer side of him to emerge.

Lots of found family shenanigans and adventures occur-and yeah! This was rambly but thank you for reading about my guys! 💖

[sourrind]

Mercy Manifested - Prologue (II)

Life is Strange - Victoria Chase/Kate Marsh

READ ON AO3

“I know you hate me and you should! But I only want to see you smile again. Please let me know if you need anything.” Taylor had told her to be kinder and to make it less about herself, that maybe Kate deserved more than just twenty-five words. Courtney was on the other end of the spectrum, suggesting that signing the big card they all got her would’ve been more than enough. But at the end of the day, this was the thing that she thought was the most appropriate. Three little sentences – one that would disarm Kate and humble Victoria just enough to make the second sentence seem genuine and then the last one, an empty-handed offering of help that she presumed Kate would never have the audacity to take up. Victoria had wanted to give her more than this, but she didn’t know how. She was kind – or at least, kind enough to her friends – but would Kate have even believed it if she had opened up with how she really felt? At least what she did send her gave them both an out if they wanted it. Victoria could keep her head high knowing she was untouchable, but still gracious enough to show mercy, and Kate could go to bed with her stuffed animals thinking that the Queen Bitch of Blackwell had a heart. Win-win. “Oh, you’re awake.” Victoria whirled around, not having heard the door open, but definitely hearing the familiar voice of the girl behind her. “I’m not snooping!” Reflexively, Victoria thrust her hands behind her back, the letter held in her hands, and her heart pounding in her chest. Kate was standing there, a closed door behind her. In one hand, she held a tray of food, and in the other, an electric kettle full of boiling water. The last time they were alone like this, Kate had found her after Nathan had been taken out of school. It wasn’t something that Victoria liked to dwell on; she barely even remembered what had happened. But she remembered how she felt when Kate approached her – to hear someone that she had treated so terribly pity her? It made her feel low. Lower than low. Maybe that incident was just a sign of things to come. “I…” Victoria tried to say something, but she couldn’t. The look on Kate’s face had disarmed her. It wasn’t the same condescending sneer that she was used to from her peers. Nor was it even suspicious – something that Kate fully deserved the right to considering Victoria was indeed in her room and snooping about – but it was a look of composure and tolerance. Even with circumstances like this with a person like her, she was reserving any thoughts or judgments until after. With the situation still shrouded in mystery, Kate simply set both of her things down on the ottoman beside the couch. Then she approached, causing Victoria to back up until her waist hit the edge of the desk. Her breath stuck in her throat when Kate leaned forward and reached around her. Their eyes never left each other the whole time as Kate’s hand brushed against hers before whisking the note away. Kate glanced down to what she was holding and instantly, Victoria could feel the air in the room lighten up alongside her. “You know,” Kate said as she smoothed the note out and folded it back to how it was, “I’m not sure if it counts as snooping if it’s your own letter.” Kate offered her a smile as she walked past her to tuck the message into a small tray on the table. Victoria couldn’t see clearly, but she made out a variety of stationery and colors that she assumed were other boorish banalities from friends and family. “I’m surprised you kept it,” Victoria muttered. Kate continued beaming as she walked over to the dresser in her closet. She had pulled open the top drawer and her fingers were about to start rifling before they froze at the sound of Victoria talking. She looked up at her and Victoria checked to see if the smile she had on her face reached her eyes, and it did. “Of course I kept it. It’s not everyday you get a letter from Victoria Chase.”

CONTINUED ON AO3

[meowkusunoki]

ocgrammers reblog and tell me how your characters type

[good-beanswrites]

Hello again, I'm here to request once more. Feel free to take all the time you need btw! I would always be patient for your wonderful works ^^

This time I'd like to request from the Drabble List#2 - 47 with the 020607 Trio (mainly Mahiru though). And yes, this is hugely inspired by that one minigram with Mahiru. And as usual, feel free to change the scenario and/or the characters.

Thank you again, good luck with your future studies and take all the time you need!!

Woo thank you so much!! :'D This one was a ton of fun (and once again led me to get smacked in the face with unlikely character parallels I wasn't aware of before). It's from Kazui's pov but it's still mainly about Mahiru. I ended up going canon-compliant, but I did consider sticking super close to the minigram and do a little normal-au where Mahiru drags them across Japan to make a perfectly homemade cake 😅

Everyone knew Mahiru had a tough time distinguishing genuine from joke, but Kazui hadn’t expected it to come back to bite him. Mahiru wasn’t stupid by any means; sometimes she just forgot that others weren’t as unabashedly honest as herself. When she said something, she meant it. Kazui… not so much.

Which is why, following a conversation about her skills in the kitchen, in response to being pressed about his own household, he thought it would be inconsequential to utter the following words to her.

“Bake me a cake, and we’ll talk.” 

Kazui had laughed his booming laugh, Mahiru had giggled in her sweet little way. Neither realized what had just transpired.

That is, until Yuno dragged Kazui across the prison the following day to make him aware of the monster he had released upon the kitchens. The two hurried over to find a massive operation underway: Mahiru had several layers in the works, she was stirring multiple fruit fillings, decoration choices scattered across the countertop, and anyone who dared venture too close was shooed away with a slap from her wooden spoon. 

It took a few minutes to get the situation all worked out.

“So… you didn’t really want a cake…?” She asked, pausing mid-stir. Her eyes were so big and round.

Yuno came to the rescue. “Of course he does!” She interrupted. “Everyone here would die for a taste of your baking~” 

Kazui nodded. “I just didn’t mean for you to work so hard for my sake. I’m really not worth all this effort…”

Mahiru’s jaw fell, offended on his behalf. “Yes you are!” Her attention was momentarily caught by a timer chiming. Kazui took the bowl from her so she could take a pan from the oven. He picked up where she left off stirring. 

“Either way, why don’t I help you out?” Yuno had grabbed some ingredients from the counter as well. “While we bake, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. A little,” he repeated. 

And he did. Her questions were easier than he’d expected. While the others knew how to poke and prod about each other’s murders, Mahiru really did just want to know about his home life. While she buzzed around the kitchen switching pans and creating intricate icing patterns, she asked him about his childhood, his hobbies, his job. As soon as she saw his wife was a touchy subject, she let it drop (though with a bit of disappointment, to be sure). He scrambled a bit as Yuno the human lie detector would shoot him a look now and then. Overall, though, his measured answers managed to satisfy both women without giving much of himself away.

When they carried the spectacular cake into the common room to everyone’s amazement, Mahiru prodded him with her elbow.

“We should talk more! I mean, come on. How difficult was that?”

If only she knew the half of it.

———

“Hey, Mahiru.” Kazui traded weak smiles with Yuno as he joined her by the bed.

“Oh. Hi Kazui,” came her weak voice. She tried her best to smile under the tangle of bandages that surrounded her. Then, silence. 

Aside from a few coughs and small requests, that silence stretched on for hours. He and Yuno usually had a lot to talk about, but neither could muster anything up today.

He thought Mahiru had dozed off, but she surprised him by taking his hand. “Kazui?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m unforgivable?” 

He blinked. “I can’t really say.” 

The moment the words left his lips, he knew they were the wrong ones. Well, the glare that Yuno was trying to murder him with also helped. “Er, I forgive you, of course. But… I don’t know anything about you, Mahiru. Not really. I can’t say why others would think you’re unforgivable or not.” 

“...I see.”

Yuno looked like she wanted to add something, but couldn’t find the words. Traces of emotions flickered over her face before she could cover them up. Kazui guessed she wanted to defend Mahiru. But maybe she also agreed with him. And that was when the realization struck him.

“I guess, I always thought you were so much better than me and Yuno when it came to talking about yourself. You do it all the time, and very easily. But now that I think about it, I probably know just as much about your situation as you know about mine. For such an honest person, you hide everything just like we do. Or maybe, you hide from everything, like we do.”

More silence.

A teary smile appeared on her face. “You know… you could bake me a cake… and maybe we’ll talk.”

Kazui didn’t laugh, and she didn’t giggle. He nodded, solemnly. “I think that’s a good idea.”

[water-gazer]

I love you so much. For trying. For struggling through it. I'm so proud of you for surviving everything life has been throwing at you.

It's not easy. But you're doing it. I believe in you, and that if you keep going, you're going to get better and better. Handling problems is a learned skill that is honed and sharpened with each passing day.

The next time you think to yourself that you're stuck in a rut, just remember the things you've done in spite of it.

Have you fed yourself? Have you cleaned yourself? Have you done the dishes? Gone for a walk? All points! And if you haven't, that's okay! Take it one task a day.

There is no shame in taking your time to get things done. You just have to *keep going*

Promise me?

[paigemathews]

For the pairing thingy can I get Simon Marks and Paige at the wedding of one of his kids to one of hers? I think that would be funny

Pairing: Simon Marks & Paige Matthews Background Pairings: Henry Mitchell Jr. / Anna Marks ( original character ) ; Paige Matthews / Henry Mitchell

It was at times like this that Paige wished she could drink. Clutching her glass like it was a potion vial and she was going up against the Source again, she was a little surprised it didn't even crack. She'd say grateful, but it would've been a valid excuse to disappear for a minute so. Unfortunately, that left her with no excuse as Simon Marks appeared on her side.

"I always did say that a pairing between the Warren line and the Marks line would be splendid," he bragged. Eying the couple, he admitted, "Perhaps a more... distinguished Warren, but splendid nonetheless."

Paige would like to say it was the knowledge that it was her son's wedding - and that Piper had spent hours decorating (after Paige, Henry, Leo, and Phoebe had been vanished after trying to help while Coop successfully pleaded his care for helping while Piper and Alicia, who played surprisingly nice for the typical haughty witch, argued about decorations for their nephew and younger sister's wedding respectively) - that kept her drink from ending up in Simon's face.

It was actually because she already finished it unfortunately. Gritting her teeth, she said, "I think that Henry is fine as he is."

Distinguished, he said, as if Anna didn't remind Paige of a significantly more rich version of herself as a teenager. Still, Anna, like Alicia, had a soft side to her, even if someone like Paige never saw it.

Across the hall, Paige watched her son smile as Anna smoothed one hand over her younger sister's hair. Lily was gesturing more emphatically than Paige had ever seen Simon's youngest daughter act, but she was adorable in her bridesmaid dress. For how fast everything went, Paige had to admit that Simon had spared no expense on his middle daughter's wedding.

"Peculiar though, isn't it?" Simon mused. "It seems that Anna's courtship with Harvey went by so quick. She didn't tell me about it until they were engaged even!"

"I wonder why," Paige said, just barely masking her tone from something more harsh. "and it's Henry, Simon."

Simon waved off of her comment with one hand, frowning. "It does seem a bit quick, but then again, it does seem to be a Marks' family trait!"

If he brought up his onetime pursuit of her, forget Piper's outrage, she was gonna spar him herself this time.

"After all, I knew that you were the Charmed sister I was destined to wed at first sight!"

Paige knew for a fact that there were swords in Marks Manor; she just had to find them first. Besides, wasn't it a Warren tradition that something happen at everyone of their weddings? Piper's had been hijacked by astral Prue, Phoebe's - well, what hadn't gone wrong with Phoebe's first marriage? Or her second? Paige's had been her and Henry's commitment issues and the Triad. Junior's would just be his mother kicking his father-in-law's ass.

"But even after you rejected my courtship, it took little more than a few moments in my dear Alyssa's company for me to fall in love," Simon reminisced, something softer in his voice.

Against herself, Paige couldn't help but feel her annoyance drain away. Alyssa Marks nee Wells had married Simon not even a year after his proposal to Paige, and despite the quick timeframe, the two had seemed utterly devoted to one another. From what she'd seen and heard from the Marks, Alyssa had been just as devoted, and significantly more hands-on than Simon, with their three daughters until the day she died when the girls were barely teenagers.

Paige missed her parents everyday, but it had been a special ache that neither of them had ever been able to meet her husband. It had been bearable with her sisters by her side, but still.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see them together," Paige offered hesitantly. She hadn't known Alyssa very well, but she seemed like a kind person and had more Simon significantly more bearable when he was unavoidable.

Simon patted at his eyes with a handkerchief, and chuckled. "Oh, she'd have been ecstatic for our Anna. I'm sure that you two would have gotten along swimmingly over time as well!"

Paige wasn't sure about that; they hadn't seemed like they had much in common, but she wasn't going to disagree. The music started up again, and couples began swarming the floor.

Straightening, Simon turned to her and offered his hand, "Shall we dance, Miss Matthews? It does seem somewhat traditional on an occasion such as this, that the groom's mother and the bride's father should have a dance."*

Paige had never been one for tradition, but took his hand anyway for the sake of family unity and all that. (Also, if she went back to the sword idea, there were two crossed over the fireplace on one side of the dance floor.)

Twirling out on the floor, Paige tried to follow the steps while Simon chattered away in her ear about the planning process and how it had compared to his and Alyssa's wedding so many years ago.

Narrowly avoiding stepping on his foot, Paige tuned back in when Simon commented, "I must say, Anna never did tell me how they met and their courtship went. Did Hugo tell you?"

"Henry," Paige emphasized and then faltered. She actually wasn't totally sure when the two had gone on a date. It had been a bit quick, but could she say anything when her marriage had been similarly fast?

"Yes?" her husband said, with a cheeky smile. Paige could've kissed him as he asked Simon, "Isn't this the part where they switch partners?"

Simon, flustered, said, "Why, I don't think-"

"Father, please?" Alicia requested, already reaching for her father. She tilted her head just so, eyes flicking from Paige to Henry. It was as close to a signal as Paige was going to get, and she fully intended to take it.

It was more Alicia's elegance that allowed her to slip into her father's hold while Paige grabbed Henry's hand, but if it worked. As the music continued, Alicia smoothly led her father into the next stage of the dance until he began leading once again.

Meanwhile, Paige and Henry swayed for a moment, not following any steps besides their own. She pressed her forehead to her husband's shoulder and groaned while he let out a little huff of laughter. "That bad, huh?"

"It's Simon," Paige bemoaned.

"And to think, now we're related to him."

Paige gave her husband a dark look. "Don't remind me."

"Hey, who just saved you?" Henry grinned down at her, shuffling side to side before spinning her.

Paige pressed into his chest after, a smile on her lips, before she remembered Simon's last comment to her. "Did Junior tell you when he and Anna went on their first date?"

Henry opened his mouth and then faltered, eyes glazing over momentarily. He shook his head as if to dislodge something, and then said, "I mean, he must have told us about it at some point?"

Paige couldn't remember, and based on Henry's expression, he couldn't either. She couldn't quite master the feeling of unease.

That was about the time that Lily started shouting and Penny punched her brother in the face.

By the end of the night, the spell had been broken and Paige no longer had to worry about being related to Simon Marks. Sinking down on the stone steps next to Henry, she groaned, kicking off her heels. He lifted one arm around her shoulder on instinct as the two watched the clean-up of the former wedding venue. On one side, Anna and Junior were talking to a Marks' family lawyer about if "we were under a demonic spell" was a valid reason for an annulment.

On the other side, Lily and Patience, the babies of the Marks and Warren lines respectively, were both beet red from all of the praise for figuring out that their sister and cousin respectively was spelled. The two girls, who Paige was pretty sure had the same powers, seemed to be becoming fast friends as Lily grabbed Patience's hand to show her something on her palm.

Down from them, Alicia, somehow still picture perfect despite Paige personally seeing her electrocute a demon and then behead one in heels and a floor-length dress, was mid-conversation with her cousin Jonathan and Chris. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and turned away from the boys to check on her sister. What she missed, and Paige didn't, was the way that Chris and Jonathan exchanged looks.

Henry, watching the same thing as her, said, "What are the odds of us not actually ending up in-laws to Simon Marks?"

Paige groaned against his shoulder, wondering if she could sic her brother-in-law on her niece and nephew. Surely, Coop could steer them away from a Marks love interest, right?

Patience looked up beneath her lashes shyly at Lily while Jonathan tugged Chris into his side by his belt loops.

At least it wasn't her kids this time.

*I don't actually think this is a thing, but idc.

[aerospectrum]

🪴 hey friends just wanna remind ya that you’re all doing awesome and don’t stress about being timely with replies or messages!!🪸 we’re all out here havin’ a silly goofy time with our muses and there’s no pressure to be fast or perfect!! 🦦in fact you could take 84 years to reply to my things and i’d roll over in my dusty old bones🩻, log back and be so happy to see your posts-🥳🥹😚🍓🩵 please don’t stress or rush yourselves with replies and activity you all are so so so so fantastical and amazing writers and creators and I love you all!!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚