#IT'S SO UNNECESSARY AND DRAMATIC I WAS CRYING

[enobariasteeth]

okay watching The Batman for the first time. I’m 5 minutes in and Bruce Wayne is so fucking dramatic I love it

[thenationofzaun]

The Vander/Silco Shitshow - generic, juvenile, and gimmicky slop

So, I think that Vander/Silco flashback was terrible. Tropey, careless, juvenile, clichéd bullshit that stripped away everything that made their season 1 story nuanced and poignant, while simultaneously ripping open a fat plot hole because the team got careless and did not catch the discrepancy between the story they'd written in their heads and the visuals that ended up on screen in season 1. This is just going to be a long rant post detailing the reasons I absolutely despised this flashback. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just my (strongly held) opinion.

1) The timeline plot hole

No, I'm not misusing the term. So a plot hole is an inconsistency in a fictional narrative that cannot be explained away by any plausible in-universe justifications. There are many moments of weak writing in Arcane that may be contrived, rushed, weird, convenient, etc. but aren't plot holes.

This Vander/Silco situation however. Oh boy. If you all remember, Season 1 opened with the bridge massacre, also known as the Day of Ash. Vander is shown cracking enforcers' skulls. He looks like this.

The sisters, seemingly recognizing him, ask him where their parents are. He gestures to their corpses, the sisters cry, Vander has his "violence is not the answer" epiphany, drops the gauntlets very dramatically to underscore this massive turning point of character development for him, then picks the girls up and leaves the bridge.

In episode 3, we are shown a flashback. Vander is trying to kill Silco in the river. He looks like this.

Let's compare this to how he looked like on the Day of Ash.

Yeah. According to the visuals shown in Season 1, the falling out of Vander and Silco seems to have occured in the past before the Day of Ash, evidenced by how much younger Vander looks. Unless Silco is a time traveller who jumped forward to the future to throw a molotov at the riot because he just loves violent extremism that much, or Vander took the time to shave his beard and apply heavy duty anti-aging lotion on his face before hunting Silco down, there are no plausible in-universe explanations for this inconsistency. Not to mention, if Silco and Vander were really as close as brothers and the sisters knew Vander, then it's impossible they wouldn't have known who Silco was.

Yet, in Season 1, that's exactly what we see - not a single sliver of recognition between Silco and the girls, nothing to imply they knew of his existence before episode 3. Not a single conversation between Jinx and Silco implied that he knew, let alone was close to, her mother. Nothing from Vi throughout the entire first season indicated that she knew of his past friendships with her mother and Vander. They acted like total strangers to each other.

Many fans already caught this inconsistency during the three-year gap after writers' comments online implied Silco was involved in the Day of Ash. We had hoped the writers would catch on to this discrepancy too and either iron out the timeline if they want to do serious flashbacks, or just avoid calling attention to it completely by not doing flashbacks of their falling out. Alas.

2) Leonardo Dicaprio pointing meme

Death to the everybody-knows-everyone trope and lines that only exist to invoke the "Leonardo Dicaprio pointing" meme. Throw them into a fucking fire. Boring, mind-numbing, clichéd, overdone garbage. Not every character needs to have some kind of half-baked relation with each other. Not every major incident needs to be tied back to the main characters. Not every single detail needs to be overexplained and justified and again, somehow tied to a main character. They are unnecessary, and make the world feel so much more claustrophobic and smaller than it should be.

"The enforcers actually commited the Day of Ash massacre because SILCO threw a molotov. Vander actually tried to kill Silco because of VI AND JINX'S mother. She knew both Silco and Vander personally and TOLD THEM to help her raise her kids. VANDER named Vi."

Bullshit like this really fucks with immersion, because it becomes clear very quickly that the world is only occupied by a small handful of real characters while the thousands of other people in it are nothing more than inconsequential set dressing and wallpaper. The story and world no longer feel real, vast, and immersive. And these forced "connections" between main characters are so obviously manufactured to generate "OUGHHH" and Dicaprio pointing reactions. Idk about anyone else, but it takes me completely out of the story when I can obviously tell the writing is trying too hard to blow my mind.

The girls' mom waltzing up to Vander and Silco and just. Fucking telling them to help her with her kids lmfaoooooooo. (OUGHH and they both really ended up raising her kids WOAGH😱🤯). Jinx's mom saying choosing a name is stressful because her child will feel stuck with it (GASP and Powder ended up changing her name WOOOOWW😱). Vander coming up with Vi's fucking name. (OUGHHHH HE REALLY WAS MEANT TO BE FATHER ALL ALONG WOADGHHGHDHDH🤯🤯🤯).

Fucking kill me. Arcane Season 1 was surprisingly good precisely because they DIDN'T, for the most part, resort to tropey bullshit like this. It had, for the most part, originality. Uniqueness. In fact all the strongest aspects of Season 1, aspects I loved, were deliberate subversions of overdone clichés. For Season 2 to resort to this kind of writing reminiscent of Disney slop is insanely disappointing.

I'm waiting for a character to unironically say, "What are we, some kind of League of Legends?" in Act 3 now.

3) "Ohhhhh so THAT'S why he did that!!!!!!!!!"

Also death to overexplanations and giving justifications for things that never needed justifications. You know what I was never confused by while watching Season 1 of Arcane? Why Vander adopted the girls. Why Silco adopted Jinx. Why both came to care for their girls so much, they were willing to sacrifice so much for them. I thought the reasons for those things were very clear and poignant in the first season. I never needed an extra on-the-nose justification for the adoptions in the form of, "they wuved yo mama". It's not only redundant, it's also one of the most tired ass tropes in fiction. To me, Vander taking in the girls and Silco taking in Jinx are so much more powerful if they really were just random guys with no real connection to the girls' parents.

But I've already seen some positive reactions to this flashback with "Ohhhhh so THAT's why Silco/Vander cared for the girls so much, now I understand😯🤯😓" mf what exactly did you not understand before??

4) Character motivations

The motivations of both Vander and Silco are made downright bizarre by this flashback. So Silco was hellbent on murdering Vi last season, despite being close friends with her mom whose death he may feel guilty for? Literally despised her and wanted to kill her the entire time with no hesitation lol. So Vander had that aforementioned dramatic moment of character development, dropped the gauntlets, realized violence wasn't the answer, and carried the kids to safety... then doubled back to violently hunt down and murder Silco? But not before shaving his beard and applying youthful lotion of course. Can't kill your bro while looking crusty. Then he failed to kill Silco so he just... went back to the kids and pretended like nothing happened? Lol.

Silco being close to, let alone loving, the girls' parents makes no fucking sense for his character. Vander knowing them at least makes sense, but casual friends would have sufficed. "I was lowkey crushing (?????) on your mom and also named you" just cheapened the entire Vander/Vi and Silco/Jinx surrogate father dynamic. Vander's motivation for killing Silco being yet another fridged woman is also weak as fuck. First Viktor with Sky, and now Vander/Silco. They really should have left this one up to our imaginations if this was the boring tripe they came up with.

[churipu]

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing

note. i thought of this when i saw a"rating celebrities i have met" video on tiktok, i imagined what gojo would be like as a celebrity — hence this fic. enjoy <;33 god i want to make actor! jujutsu kaisen a series so bad.

actor! gojo who first saw you during a fan meeting, and when you asked for a weird pose to do with him, he's immediately attached — like love at first sight?

actor gojo! who slips in his phone number when he was signing his picture that you asked him to sign, hoping that you, his very own fan would actually text him. because, he genuinely wants to get to know you better.

actor! gojo who receives a text from you during the night, and the first text he receives from you was a "is this a prank? if it's not, i'm going to roll on the ground and cry. if it is, i'm sorry you had to see this text." and he decided to play with you by saying it's a joke — but stopped when you actually believed in him.

actor! gojo who finds it funny that you still don't believe that the gojo satoru is texting you, so he decided to video call you to make you believe in him (you ended the call immediately and blocked his number for a bit after, only unblocking him when you got your head straight).

actor! gojo who eventually got to know you better, slipping in the time to video call you or voice call you during breaks in his busy schedule. sending you your cravings out of the blue, or even bouquets of your favorite flowers.

actor! gojo who will use his empty schedule to come and meet you — taking you out to eat or just spend the day in your home, or his apartment. even exhausted, he still wanted everything to work out with you, so he would do anything; even if most of the time, the both of you ended up napping together.

actor! gojo who sends selfies of himself or a short video of himself during his schedule so you could know what he was doing — pointing out the most unnecessary things in the video, like how he saw a cat (then taking a picture or video of the cat to send to you), or even telling you how he finished the shoot in a short amount of time, wanting you to be proud of him.

"hi! i just did a scene, and there was this really cute kitty — look, i named him tuxedo, 'cause his fur looks like a suit. isn't he cute? what do you think if i brought him home with me, i think you'd like him!" he said, panning the camera to the said cat, caressing its fur gently.

actor! gojo who checks his phone every time after a take in his shoot to see if you had replied to him, and when he sees your notification, he gets so motivated to do his shoot. and when you don't, he's pretty upset. he turns into a big baby and asks everyone in the set what it meant if someone replies late, he is so dramatic.

actor! gojo who if asked about his ideal type during interviews, mentions and describes your personality and looks. and everyone won't know that he was talking about you, he sees people talking about how specific his words are and speculates that he was seeing someone.

actor! gojo who trended on social media after that particular interview and the account who first speculated how specific his description is, and now the whole world is saying he has a secret lover or is dating backstreet.

actor! gojo who then receives a text from you asking about if he was seeing someone because of his trending name. and he decided to ask you out for good — telling you that it was you he was describing, and he would be glad if you'd go out with him.

[ you ] : you're trending omg

[ gojo satoru ] : i know :D

[ you ] : but now that i rewatched the video, it does seem like you're describing someone, who is it? 😏

[ gojo satoru ] : idk if you're nonchalant or you're just pretending not to know :/

[ you ] : ???

[ gojo satoru ] : it's you, silly. i'm describing you to the world, so now that i've said that — can i please be your boyfriend?

actor! gojo who immediately drives his way to your house when you said yes to him being your boyfriend; he had been holding back the urge to kiss you, holding you close, so when he's yours — he just has to have you close to him.

actor! gojo who was a little upset when you said you wanted to keep the relationship a secret from the world so his fans wouldn't be mad at him. but he accepted it, as long as you're comfortable.

actor! gojo who makes it clear to people on set, including his make up artist, and even director that he now has a partner; and that he's madly in love. everyone on set listens to him talk about you every single day, gojo is so lovestruck that he can't stop talking about you, telling people on set how great you are and how deeply in love he is with you.

actor! gojo who still slips in random selfies and videos of him during work so you won't overthink, he will tell you what he's about to do and with who even if you didn't ask — he didn't want to keep his partner waiting for him, he's communicative to what he's about to do so you won't worry.

actor! gojo who brings you out on a date to a fine dining restaurant one night and it turned out to be the gravest mistake ever when he finds his name trending the very next day, all for the wrong reasons.

actor! gojo who's first worry is you when he was trending. half of his "fans" were bashing the mysterious person (you) off, saying the most mean things ever, and half of his fans were happy that gojo was on a date with you, telling him how they're really happy that he's out on a date despite his busy schedule.

actor! gojo who makes sure you're alright first, telling you how you should never listen to whatever his "fans" are saying — because they're definitely not right, and they're just jealous. he tells you that he will resolve everything, so you don't have to worry about anything.

actor! gojo who clarifies, by quote retweeting a tweet that was meant to hate on you — clarifying that he's married to you (even if he's not), and that you're his partner. he EMPHASIZES on how he's not hesitating to sue anyone who delivered hate, and he's personally keeping track on the usernames of people who had made a hate towards you (he jots them down and screenshots them).

and most of these account decided to deactivate right after his open clarification. losers.

actor! gojo who then made a proper clarification by saying that he is indeed in a relationship with you and that you're his spouse (not yet), and he told the whole world how he won't hesitate to take legal actions to whoever decided to mess with him, his personal life, or you.

actor! gojo who was happy when most of his real fans supported both him and you, and tell you both how happy they are. he giggles and kicks his feet reading the comments about how you both are definitely going to last, and how you both will be the best couple ever. he screenshots them and make an album just for these comments, showing them to you to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. you were going to be fine. you both were going to be fine.

actor! gojo who was asked about you during interviews and he gets so happy and smiley that he gets to show you off in front of the camera, telling everyone how deep in love he is, and how you treat him like the best person in the world. the video went viral and people were so envious of you.

"oh, my spouse? best. person. ever. i met them during a fan meeting, yes. they were a fan of mine — i could say it was love at first sight, i look at them and i just knew i wanted to marry them."

people then began to believe that they have a chance with their own idols, most of them making this a meme, and they use gojo as one of those tiktok standards videos.

actor! gojo who still sends you selfies and videos after a long time of dating, never breaking the routine. even when he has a schedule out of the country — he still makes time for you, engaging in video calls and voice calls despite the time zones, sends you the sweetest voice mails when he can't do a call and brings you the best souvenirs ever.

actor! gojo who casually assumes that you both are married since the first time you both got caught — he bought you a ring, and just slips it on you, telling you that you're both now married. and you casually accepted, you both had your own moment, made the official marriage certificate without anyone knowing. and the next second, he just announces to the whole set who knew about his "clarification" that he's actually, for real, honestly, married to you. and he tells them his clarification wasn't just a lie to get out of the situation.

actor! gojo who posted your face for the first time in his social media after so long, and he trended again. this time, with you. the fans were so happy, he gets so happy when his fans compliments you — and he happily retweets and reposts every single thing they say about you. he's such a proud husband.

actor! gojo who mentions your name whenever he wins an award, once again telling the whole world how he wouldn't be able to make it until now without you by his side. and how he's so thankful that you're always there even during his toughest times. he has a habit of ending his award speech with a: "y/n l/n, you're the love of my life, i love you. mwah."

a fan of his made a compilation of his ending speech for you, and posted it on twitter, which of course, went viral.

actor! gojo who constantly posts you and writes about you on his social media with the cheesiest captions ever, and people were down for it. telling you how lucky you are to have a husband like him, and gojo always replies back by saying he was the lucky one.

actor! gojo who finds out you read fanfictions about him when you miss him, he pokes fun at you for it — but finds you really cute, then you both make it a routine to read fanfictions of him.

"oh, i would totally do that. how did they even come up with these? they're really good at this," gojo laughs, laying his chin on top of your shoulder as you scrolled your phone.

actor gojo! who gets so happy when you come to visit him on set, and gets so motivated because you were there real time to see him on the act. and spends his break with you, the crew on set gets so disgusted by him and posts about how gojo acts around you on social media — and the fans are finding it hilarious, they ask the crew for more information about gojo and you.

actor! gojo who definitely brings you to red carpet awards, wanting you to be there with him. asking the paparazzi to take many pictures of you so that he could save them, and they do. taking your pictures from different angles, posting them on social media so gojo could save them.

actor! gojo who refuses acts where he has to kiss another actor/ress, he didn't mind holding hands or hugging. but when it comes to locking his lips with another person who is not you — he won't do it. even when you tell him that it was fine since it was his job, gojo still refuses, and directors would go lengths as long as gojo will act for them, cutting out the kiss scenes and settling for something less intimate.

actor! gojo who sometimes get caught by paparazzi when he's on the way to visit you or when he's buying a gift for you. telling the paparazzi they shouldn't upload the pictures until a specific date when he's planning to surprise you, and the paparazzi agrees (sometimes), but when some of them uploaded the pictures right on the same day, he gets so upset that they ruined his surprise for you.

actor! gojo who protects you from shameless paparazzis, not hesitating to tell them off in front of the camera for you. because, let's all be real, most paparazzis could be a pain in the ass, they could be awful, and they could be really persistent.

"hey, back off from them. i'll fucking hurt you if you get closer, understand?" and these paparazzi will taunt him for it, but gojo could care less about them, he only cares about your safety.

"i'll ruin your fucking camera, y'piece of shit. don't you fucking dare touch my spouse, i'm serious." he mutters out, pushing away a man who had undoubtedly came rushing over, trying to get you out of the way so he could picture gojo.

actor! gojo who makes it clear that he won't tolerate people being hurting you at all. and he won't be afraid to take a risk to hurt them back for you.

actor! gojo who will sacrifice his job for you. because on camera and behind camera, all he thinks about is you.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[p0orbaby]

As We Plunge into the Ocean

summary: snapshots of your pregnancy journey with leah by your side

warnings: pregnancy and its potential symptoms, duh !

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.8k

-

You have to hand it to Leah, she's really leaned into this whole pregnancy thing. Not that you’re surprised. She’s always been a bit of a control freak. Actually, no, she’s a lot of a control freak. But now, it’s like she’s running drills for motherhood, and you’re the center of her training program.

Month 2: The Overprotective Phase Begins

“You’re glowing,” she tells you one morning. It’s sweet until you deduce she’s actually staring at the sweat on your upper lip. You’re clammy, nauseous, and you smell like day-old toast, but sure, you’re glowing.

Leah’s taken to hovering. She’s always been protective, but now, it’s like you’re made of glass, or maybe like you’re the last good avocado in Waitrose—precious and prone to bruising. She watches you closely, eyes narrowed, as if you might spontaneously combust into a pile of hormones and ash at any moment.

“You’re going to be late for training,” you remind her, trying to shoo her out the door with your tea bag as if you’re some sort of British Gandalf.

She glances at her watch, sighs, and then gives you that look. The one that says, I’m going to worry about you while I’m gone, so don’t do anything stupid like trip over air or suddenly decide to juggle knives.

“Don’t lift anything heavy,” she warns, pulling on her jacket, but making no move toward the door. “Or stand on anything taller than a pancake”

Close enough.

“Okay, Mum,” you say, deadpan. You’re both amused and slightly exasperated because Leah’s version of protective involves a lot of hovering and unnecessary life advice.

She kisses you on the forehead before leaving, like she’s blessing you for the day ahead. Or maybe she thinks you’ll forget how to breathe without her around. Either way, it’s oddly comforting.

When she finally leaves, you flop on the sofa, determined to enjoy the fleeting freedom before she comes home and starts fluffing your pillows like you’re an elderly Victorian woman with consumption.

-

Month 4: The Hormone-Palooza

Leah walks in from training one afternoon to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, crying over an empty jar of pickled onions. To be fair, they were really good onions. You’d eaten the last one two hours ago, and now the world feels like a cruel, onion-less void.

“What happened?” Leah asks, dropping her kit bag and rushing over like there’s been a national emergency.

“The pickled onions,” you sob, pointing dramatically at the empty jar as if it’s committed some unspeakable crime.

She stares at the jar, then at you, and you can see the mental maths she’s doing to figure out if this is worth her calling 999. But then she just nods, like she’s made peace with your hormonal breakdowns.

“I’ll get more tomorrow,” she says, like she’s promising to fetch water from a well three villages over.

You look up at her, eyes wide and wet. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. And I’ll get the sliced red ones this time”

You sniff, feeling vaguely stupid but mostly just grateful. “You’re the best”

“I know,” she says, deadpan, and helps you off the floor like you’re a drunk at a party who just tried to wrestle your reflection in the mirror.

But Leah doesn’t make fun of you for your hormone-fueled tears. She’s too busy making sure you’re okay, which is annoying and endearing in equal measure.

-

Month 6: The Nesting Madness

You wake up one morning to the sound of power tools. In your half-asleep state, you briefly consider the possibility that Leah’s decided to open a B&Q in your living room.

When you manage to roll out of bed, because rolling is now the only way you can get up, you find Leah assembling a cot in the nursery. She’s wearing a headlamp like she’s about to go spelunking. Her tongue is sticking out in concentration, and there’s a distinct air of “I watched this on YouTube once, so I’m basically an expert” about her.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

She pauses, mid-screw, and gives you a look. “I’m following the instructions,” she says defensively, even though the manual is open to a page that looks more like IKEA hieroglyphics than anything else.

You decide not to mention that the cot is currently upside down. Instead, you settle in to watch Leah’s one-woman DIY show. It’s honestly better than whatever’s on terrestrial right now.

After a good twenty minutes, she steps back, admiring her work. You both stare at the crib, which is somehow missing two legs but is otherwise a valiant effort.

“It’s... something,” you say diplomatically.

Leah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’ll call my dad”

You nod. “Good idea. He’s got that handyman vibe”

She gives you a mock glare. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t help”

“I’m in charge of moral support,” you reply, patting your stomach. “And the baby’s supervising”

“Lazy,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

-

Month 8: The Belly and the Beast

By this point, your belly is so big that it has its own gravitational pull. Leah has taken to treating it like it’s a small planet she needs to orbit. You’re the sun, and she’s some overzealous moon that won’t give you any space.

“Do you need anything?” she asks for the fiftieth time that day, hovering like a helicopter parent who’s misplaced their child in a crowd.

“No,” you reply, staring at the TV, which you can barely see over your stomach.

“How about water? I could get you water. Or juice. Or something with electrolytes. Do you want electrolytes?” Leah’s pacing now, clearly itching to do something.

You eye her, bemused. “I’m fine, Leah”

“Are you sure? I could fluff your pillow, or I could—”

“Leah,” you interrupt, trying to keep a straight face, “the baby and I are okay. You don’t need to, like, feng shui the living room or whatever”

She stops pacing, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m just... I don’t know what to do with myself”

You reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to sit next to you. “You’re doing great,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “Now, just relax. Let’s watch something. Maybe something without pregnant women, though. I can’t deal with seeing anyone else going through this”

Leah laughs, finally settling in next to you. “Deal”

Five minutes into the show, she’s already got a hand on your belly, her protective instincts kicking in even during a Netflix binge. You roll your eyes fondly but let her be. At least she’s not trying to rearrange the furniture again.

-

Month 9: The Home Stretch (Or, The Last Nerve)

Leah is a bundle of nerves, more wound up than a cat near a cucumber. It’s almost cute, except when she insists on triple-checking the hospital bag, which she’s already checked twice in the last hour.

“Leah, seriously, if you add one more onesie to that bag, it’s going to explode”

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” she mutters, rummaging through the bag as if it’s one of those cursed Hermione purses from Harry Potter.

“We have everything. And then some,” you assure her, eyeing the ludicrous pile of baby supplies that could probably last through an apocalypse.

She finally zips up the bag and sits down next to you. For a moment, there’s silence, and you think maybe, just maybe, she’s finally going to relax. But no. She starts tapping her foot, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Do you think—”

“No,” you cut her off, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But—”

“Leah,” you say firmly, “I love you, but if you ask me if I think the baby’s coming today one more time, I might actually lose it”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking like she’s physically restraining herself from speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, sighing. “I’m just... I’m excited and nervous and I feel like I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but the bomb is cute and we’re going to love it and—”

“Leah,” you interrupt again, “you’re doing amazing. But you need to chill, or the baby’s going to think it’s coming out to meet a drill sergeant”

She cracks a smile at that. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to relax”

She doesn’t. But she does stop asking you if you’re in labor every fifteen minutes, so you’ll take that as a win.

-

The Grand Finale: The Delivery Room Circus

The day finally arrives. Naturally, it’s at three in the morning because why would your body ever do anything convenient? You wake Leah up by shaking her arm like you’re waking a teenager for school.

“Leah,” you say, trying to stay calm even though your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals. “It’s time”

She’s up in an instant, wide awake like she’s just heard the starting whistle at the World Cup final. She starts pacing, half-dressed, muttering about the hospital bag.

“We need to go, we need to—oh my god, where are the keys? Do we have the car seat? Should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we’re not calling an ambulance, that’s for emergencies, this is an emergency, but not that kind of emergency—”

You grab her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Leah, breathe. We’ve got time. But we do need to go”

She takes a deep breath, nodding like she’s trying to calm down a very excitable puppy. Then she’s off, running around the house like it’s an obstacle course, grabbing everything and nothing at once. You watch her in bemusement, one hand on your belly, wondering if you should tell her that she’s just thrown her shoe into the fridge.

When she finally gets it together, the drive to the hospital is an adventure in itself. Leah’s driving like she’s on her way to rob a bank, weaving through traffic and swearing under her breath at every red light.

“Leah, the baby’s not going to fall out if we don’t get there in ten minutes,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as she mutters something about the stupidly long red lights.

Finally, you make it to the hospital, where Leah practically drags you to the entrance like a deflated balloon on a string. Once inside, she’s all business, directing the nurses like she’s running a tactical operation.

The actual labour is a blur—hours of pain, and sweat, and Leah alternating between holding your hand and looking like she might faint. But she doesn’t faint. She stays with you the whole time, even when you scream at her that she’s never allowed to touch you again.

When the baby finally arrives, Leah’s expression is one of awe, relief, and sheer, overwhelming love. You’re both exhausted, but when you see her holding your baby, all of her earlier madness makes sense.

She was never just overprotective or anxious. She was just ready—ready to love, ready to care, and maybe, just maybe, ready to stop checking that bloody hospital bag.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But you love her anyway.

[satoruswifeyyyy]

grocery shopping with bratty satoru

masterlist

grocery shopping with satoru was supposed to be a quick errand. a normal task. something simple. but you forgot one very crucial detail: satoru is incapable of being normal.

“you’re pushing the cart too fast,” he whined dramatically, jogging to keep up as you walked down the produce aisle. “what’s the rush? it’s not like the tomatoes are gonna sprout legs and run away.”

“they might, if they hear you talking,” you deadpanned, grabbing a handful of tomatoes and placing them in a bag.

“how dare you insult my sweet tone!” he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just slapped him. “my voice is a gift to the world.”

“your voice is why i wear noise-canceling headphones at home,” you retorted, moving on to the cucumbers.

he grabbed a cucumber and held it up like a microphone. “tell us, oh great shopper, how do you choose the perfect cucumber?”

“by shoving it into the cart before my overgrown toddler of a boyfriend can use it to embarrass me,” you replied, tossing the cucumber into the cart.

satoru grinned, leaning on the cart as he sauntered after you. “so mean, yet so cute. i'm starting to think you keep me around for entertainment.”

“i keep you around because the store doesn’t let me use the express lane without two people,” you teased, heading toward the snacks aisle.

“ih, the betrayal!” he gasped, trailing dramatically behind you. “i thought it was my charming personality, my good looks, my—”

“don’t forget your giant ego,” you interrupted, attempting to toss a bag of chips into the cart but failing to do so.

picking the bag from the ground, he threw it into the cart with unnecessary flair. “you’re lucky i’m forgiving. what’s next? chocolate? ice cream? no spicy food though!”

“how about something to keep your mouth occupied so I can shop in peace?” you suggested, grabbing a jar of salsa.

“you wound me,” he sighed, clutching the cart like he might faint. “if only,” you muttered under your breath.

but before you could add anything else to the cart, satoru wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you’re so mean to me,” he pouted, his voice full of affection.

“If i were nice to you, you’d think i was sick,” you replied, trying to wiggle free.

“no way. i'd just assume you finally realized how amazing I am.”

“amazing at being annoying,” you shot back, though the corners of your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

“ah-ha! I saw that!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to face him. “you’re smiling. admit it, you love me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, grabbing a box of cookies and shoving them into his hands. “i love you almost as much as i love grocery shopping alone.”

satoru laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “too bad, you’re stuck with me. now, let’s go find the ice cream before i start crying in public.”

as you turned toward the frozen foods, satoru suddenly lit up like a kid on christmas morning. “ooh, the cheese section!”

“do we really need five different types of cheese?” you asked, staring at the cart that was beginning to resemble a buffet.

“yes,” he replied confidently, tossing a block of gouda into the cart. “What if I wake up one day and feel like swiss, but all we have is cheddar? tragic.”

you grabbed the pack of gouda cheese and put it back. “we don’t need all this. you’re not a one-man charcuterie board.”

“but my refined palate!” he gasped, looking scandalized. “your refined palate eats instant ramen at 3 a.m. and thinks potato chips are a food group,” you deadpanned.

he smirked. “and yet, here you are, still madly in love with me.”

rolling your eyes, you pulled the cart away. “we’re sticking to the list. no more random luxuries.”

“random luxuries? excuse me, but this cheese is a necessity,” he argued, holding up a tiny packet with an outrageous price tag.

you snatched it from his hand and put it back. “no one needs $1300 pule cheese for their pizza,toru.

"fine, fine,” he relented, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset. “but you owe me something sweet for being such a responsible adult.”

grabbing a pack of his favorite candy, you tossed it into the cart. “happy now, you spoiled brat?”

he grinned, ruffling your hair. “ecstatic. you’re lucky you’re cute, or i'd be unbearable.”

“you’re already unbearable,” you replied, laughing despite yourself.

with satoru, even the simplest tasks turned into a chaotic adventure. embarrassing, loud, and ridiculous—but also sweet in its own way. life with him was anything but ordinary, and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: suguru coming up next :)

[loveinhawkins]

Steve thinks he’s doing a good job at hiding it, but then Eddie catches his eye right as he’s limping out of the RV and… huh, maybe not.

Eddie, with panicked urgency—which, in Steve’s opinion, is admittedly sweet but unnecessary—asks if the bites are bothering him again.

“No, dude, it’s nothing,” Steve says. “It’s literally nothing.”

Eddie doesn’t look at all reassured.

Goddamn it, Steve thinks. Better rip off the band aid and hope it’s not too mortifying.

“It’s not the bites. It’s… um. My feet.”

Eddie glances down but there’s nothing to see; as soon he’d entered The War Zone, Steve had crammed his feet into the first pair of combat boots he could find.

“Oh,” Eddie says, the penny dropping. “Oh, shit. Yeah, hang on, just…”

He looks around, humming in thought, then grabs a bottle of water with decisiveness, and yeah, Steve thinks, this is gonna be incredibly mortifying.

But he can’t find a way to wriggle out of it without making the whole thing a way bigger deal than it needs to be—so he ends up sat in the grass, wincing as he pries off his boots.

It is, in a word, gross.

“Don’t know why they’re bugging me so damn much,” Steve says just to fill the silence. He huffs self-effacingly, goes to wiggle his toes before deciding ow, better not and ew, better not. “It’s, like, hardly anything compared to…”

He gestures to the bandage wrapped around him.

“Well, you weren’t walking on your stomach,” Eddie points out.

He pours out water onto some tissues he’s rustled up and gets to work.

Steve keeps waiting for the embarrassment to well and truly set in.

But… it doesn’t.

Eddie doesn’t once make a crack about how awful his feet look.

Instead he launches into a story of how, against his uncle’s sage advice, he’d gone to school in a new pair of boots (his birthday present) without breaking them in first.

It was freshman year, so Eddie’s whole look hadn’t been solidified yet. But he was determined to make it work—stomping around the school (“Were any lunch tables harmed?” Steve asks, and Eddie warmly tells him to shut up), steadfastly ignoring the growing discomfort.

At the end of the day, he’d taken his boots off and surveyed the damage with a melodramatic cry; “Kid, I really don’t know what to tell ya,” Wayne had huffed.

Eddie hams up his whiny, teenaged disgust so that he becomes the butt of the joke, and Steve suddenly feels like he’s watching a magician onstage—except he knows where to look, isn’t fooled by the sleight of hand: Eddie’s dramatics all serve as a distraction from the caked on dirt and blood he steadily cleans off Steve’s skin.

It’s quiet, unassuming. A hidden kindness.

Eddie doesn’t need to be doing this; Steve could quite easily take the bottled water and do it all himself—would probably get it over and done with in a matter of minutes, concealed around the other side of the RV, quick and perfunctory.

But you’re letting him, Steve thinks. Why are you letting him?

Eddie’s hands are cold, a pleasant contrast to the burning sensation all across his feet—honestly, he’d been hoping that so long as he just kept walking, he’d gradually become numb to it.

There’s a loud rip of plastic as a pack of baby wipes are opened. Eddie’s touch is light which soothes some of the sting, at least; he trails off into silence as he works, hissing sympathetically at whatever’s revealed.

“You’ve got a couple cracks,” he says, eyebrows drawn.

Steve gives an over exaggerated sigh. “Give it to me straight, doc. Am I gonna have to chop ‘em off?”

Eddie chuckles, but his concern doesn’t fade away.

“Just here,” he says, pointing, and the tip of his finger brushes against Steve’s heel—Steve tries not to, but he twitches reflexively, and Eddie flashes him an impish grin. “Ticklish?”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, smiling.

He kicks out, stops just short of actually hitting Eddie in the face.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Harrington,” Eddie says through laughter, pushing Steve’s foot away—gently. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

It’s a joke; Steve knows it’s a joke. But—

“You don’t need to do that, man. Robin already knows.”

Eddie stands up and stretches, gives Steve’s ankle a little pat.

“Think you’re all set—woah, wait,” he says as Steve reaches for the combat boots, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Uh, what’s it look like?”

“Harrington. You cannot put those on without socks again, you’re gonna summon my uncle; he’s got, like, a sixth sense about that kinda stuff.”

Eddie’s smile drops a little at that, a flash of melancholy breaking through.

God, you must really miss him, Steve thinks.

“I’m just making do. I don’t have any socks.”

“Yeah, you do.” Eddie’s smile returns in full force—puzzled, perhaps just a little fond. “You got me some, remember?”

Eddie retrieves a pair from the RV and, that’s right, Steve had forgotten: he’d bought a whole pack during their first grocery trip, after Eddie had made an offhand comment about feeling cold in the boathouse.

Poor guy, Steve had thought as they walked through The Upside Down. This is cold on a whole new level.

The socks are thick and warm. Steve pulls on the boots, relishing the fact that his toes no longer scream in protest as he does so.

He tightens the laces; Eddie’s sat down opposite him again.

“There. Ready for battle,” Steve says.

Eddie’s eyes flicker over the combat boots, then Steve’s whole get-up—and there’s nothing teasing in his gaze now, as if he’s seeing everything in another light. Like the gravity of it all has just hit him.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Battle.”

“Hey, Eddie. Don’t worry.”

Eddie huffs with a wan smile. “Wow. And just like that, I won’t.”

Steve nudges him with his foot. Gentle. “M’not gonna ruin your handiwork.”

Eddie doesn’t reply.

Steve stands, tries a short walk in place. It’ll work. It has to.

“I’d just do it again,” Eddie says suddenly. “If… I—I wouldn’t mind.”

Steve pauses. Offers Eddie a hand and pulls him up.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” Steve says softly.

And then he lets go of Eddie’s hand.

Standing tall, he starts to round everyone up for the drive back—and wishes them all a future of simple fixes: of superficial cracks, easy to patch up.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

[borathae]

"PMSing is hard. Thankfully you have a boyfriend who is the most patient and understanding person on earth, even if he is currently the target of your mood swings."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: she is pmsing really hard, mood swings, a little unnecessary fight, Yoongi being the most loving and understanding person ever, he's also a cutie, she can't be mad at him for long <3

Wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: where are my fellow PMS-sufferer? we're really out there fighting battles. istfg boongie <3 i miss him so much :( he'd be such a patient booboo 😔

You were mad at him. And it was his fault because he messed up. You are currently renovating one of the greenhouse flower beds and realised in the middle of renovating that you didn’t have enough plants to fill the bed. So you asked Yoongi to go to the plant store for more and he returned with the wrong plants. Okay fair enough, maybe you are a little overreacting as well. As a matter of fact, you are very much overreacting. But it’s only a few days till your period starts and your hormones seem to hate you this month. You are constantly upset about the silliest of things and everything seems so very difficult to handle. Yoongi coming home with the wrong plants felt like the greatest betrayal in history to you. You accused him of not listening to you while he pouted at you and told you that he mixed up the names at the store, which you obviously didn’t believe because he “is a stinky liar”. Truly the fight was very unnecessary and way too dramatic for something as silly as plants, but you were upset nonetheless and so Yoongi left to allow you to cool down.

Speaking of Yoongi, he is back in the greenhouse again after leaving you to calm down. It has been a little over an hour since he left.

“Princess?”

You tense up at his voice, feeling weirdly tingly in the stomach. Not in a good way, but in a guilty yet also very annoyed way. You weren’t ready to face him yet. You still had to get over the embarrassment of acting like a child, but also the annoyance of having the wrong plants.

Maybe if you pretend that you can’t hear him, he will leave again. 

“My flower princess?”

You furrow your brows. Damn him and his stupid, cute nicknames. They work too well.

“What?” you grumble. 

Shuffling of feet, then the sound of something being put down next to you. You sneak a glance at it. There is a basket of the correct plants next to you. Yoongi must have gone back to the store to get them. Your heart flutters, your eyes burn in the desire to cry. He is so sweet and lovely and amazing and you are such a bitch.

“Look at what I got”, he says.

“Mhm.”

Yoongi squats down next to you.

“Are these the correct ones?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

You nod your head, turning away from him slightly. You are aware that you’re being childish right now, but if you look at him for too long you will start crying uncontrollably.

A defeated sigh from him, then you feel arms around you and lips on your cheek.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks in a whisper, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“Yes, you’re stinky.”

“No princess, don’t say that. I’m not stinky.”

“Yeah you are, you stinky meanie.”

“___”, he whines, pulling you into his chest, “I already said I’m sorry and I got the right plants, please don’t make it so hard.”

“Well, I heard you but decided that I’m still mad.”

“And there is nothing I can do to make it better?”

“Don’t know.”

“I could make you a snack.”

“No, don’t want to eat.”

“Well then how about I give you head scratches?” he offers, nuzzling his nose into your hair as best as possible. 

You shiver at the feeling, but decide to stay strong.

You huff out air and pout.

“I could eat your pussy”, he whispers, letting his lips brush against your ear.

It sounds tempting and makes you tingle. 

“Yoongi”, you whine, “stop.”

He chuckles lazily, “was that a yes?”

“No, you’re being unfair and mean.”

He laughs, placing a soft kiss to your ear, “I’m not. I’m fighting for my life here.”

You roll your eyes and wiggle yourself out of the hug, abandoning Yoongi on the ground as you stand up. He looks up at you with pouty lips and sad eyes.

“Thanks for the plants”, you mumble and kick a small imaginary pebble.

“Am I forgiven?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet”, you say and turn to leave the greenhouse.

“Princess please”, Yoongi begs, scrambling to his feet. He trots after you, “princess love, please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

“Go away, you stinky”, you tell him. 

Yoongi pouts, following you outside. 

The garden is coming along greatly. The flowers and grasses are growing, bees and insects are buzzing and your herbs drench the air in amazing scents. 

You lead the way along the narrow nature paths. Yoongi follows until the once narrow paths break up into a lowly cut meadow. Crossing it and one would reach the vegetable garden. You are strutting to it confidently. 

Yoongi jogs to catch up with you and goes in for his move. He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours tightly. 

You continue your walk, but slow down a little. Slower. Slower. Slower.

Stop.

Two steps and you would be by the vegetable beds. 

The wind tickles your shins, the sun is shining. 

You turn, looking at your intertwined hands then at Yoongi.

He is squinting his eyes because of the sunlight. 

“I won’t let go until you stop being angry at me”, he tells you, squeezing your hand. 

You’re not really mad at him anymore. As a matter of fact, you think that it is incredibly cute of him to hold hands as a way of making up. 

You take a deep breath and release it as a sigh through your nose. Damn him and his cute methods. You’re being a meanie. You take out your sunglasses from your dungaree front pocket and slip them on his face as best as possible. Yoongi helps you with it, snatching your other hand as well once finished. 

“Really?” you ask him, holding back a smile.

“Yeah. Really”, he says, swaying your hands gently, “I could do this all day.”

“What if I have to pee?”

“You can’t pee if you can’t drink. I can do this all day.” 

Fine, he’s got you. You laugh, lowering your head.

“You’re stinky”, you murmur.

“What?” he insist with a smile.

“You’re stupid!” you blurt out, meeting his eyes, “stop making me laugh.” 

“Why? Cause it’s hard being mad at me when you gotta laugh?” 

“Yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles. He steps closer, caressing your knuckles. 

“Does that mean you’re ready to forgive me?”

You pout, “you’re unfair, you know? I tell you to leave me alone and you go and make me hold hands.”

He smiles, “it’s the best way to make up.”

“No, the best way’s kisses.”

Yoongi takes the opportunity and smooches your cheek. Then your other. And one last right on your lips. 

He moves back, meeting your playful, coy gaze. 

“Like this?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes and grin, swaying your shoulders from side to side. 

“Yeah, I guess”, you murmur.

Yoongi scrunches his nose. You lower your eyes, swinging your hands from left to right gently.

“Soo am I forgiven?” he asks quietly.

You nod your head.

“God, you stubborn baby, you. Making it so hard for me. Com’ere”, he says, pulling you into a hug.

You fall into it gladly, hugging him as tightly as possible with your eyes closed. He smells so good and pets your head just perfectly.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble into him, “I don’t feel good lately. PMS is hitting me hard this month. I’m sorry, I try not to be so upset about everything, but everything feels like the worst thing ever.”

“Mhm, I know”, he speaks softly, rubbing your back, “I’m here, princess love. Okay?”

You nod your head, smiling softly when he kisses your head. You love hugging him so much.

“Oh god, Yoongi now I’m crying”, you confess, sniffling into him sadly.

“God princess, don’t cry”, he gasps, hugging you tighter.

“It’s just that you’re so cute and perfect and, and I’m always so mean to you, oh god I’m the worst girlfriend ever”, you say and let out a little sob.

“No you’re not. God princess love, it’s okay. It was one time and we made up. God, come here”, he chuckles, swooping you off your feet to bounce you in his arms, “let’s get you some tea to drink, yeah?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you sob over the silliest of reasons.

“Fuck princess, I’m letting you drink something, which means you’re gonna have to go pee. I’m breaking my own promises here”, he jokes in hopes of making you laugh. It works perfectly, you are giggling and snickering into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like the cuddliest koala. He laughs softly, patting your butt, “you’re cute. Even with your mood swings.”

“Noo Yoongi, don't say that. I’m sensitive today. I’ll cry again”, you whine.

“Okay, okay sorry”, Yoongi laughs, making you snicker as well.

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; shadow milk cookie

requested by ; anonymous (24/01/24)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; shadow milk cookie

outline ; “So I am a little OBSESSED in love with shadow milk

So could I get some Shadow milk relation ship hc’s?”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

if there was a need to describe shadow milk cookie’s approach to your relationship, it could be done in just the one word: playful

whenever you’re stressed, he puts on elaborate productions of magic and puppetry to brighten your day and make you smile: funny voices, summoned puppets, plot lines that either touch upon your favourite tropes or make fun of the people that upset you — he never holds back with you

if you’re experiencing a low mood or crying, then he’s upping the dramatics and repeating all of your favourite puns and jokes to pull you out of it and make you laugh — he dresses like a jester all of the time, so it’s safe to say that the man doesn’t mind making a fool of himself for your sake

he’s extremely physically affectionate and can go from slow and passionate to cheeky and playful in a second — alternating between loosely wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you sit comfortably on his lap, and suddenly tightening his grip on your waist to stop you from getting away as he nips and kisses and tickles your skin until you’re laughing so hard you’re crying and clutching at your aching sides and trying desperately to squirm out of his grip

equally his kisses can be playful and cutesy or passionate and messy depending on his mood

most of the time they’re done for a sort of dramatic flair on top of his usual public displays of affection that usually get you stared at in confusion — consisting of him grabbing you by your shoulders or the side of the face before wetly kissing you on the lips or cheek whilst making a very unnecessary and over the top ‘mwah!’-esque popping sound (he may even stop at the last second and lick you instead just to make you laugh)

but there are times when that playful facade slips and his kisses become much more frantic, passionate, and hot — when the act slips and you’re left face-to-face with a more possessive, seductive, needy side of him that only comes out when he’s so desperate for your touch that he’d sooner slip into your skin with you than let you go, or when someone else has made him jealous

those kisses look a bit more like this: starting with him grabbing you by the waist or neck or sides and all but crashing your body and lips against his, alternating between biting and licking your lips until you breathlessly give in and part your lips for him, letting his hands wander just enough to send a message as you cling to him like a lifeline, and only pulling apart when you’re starting to struggle to breathe — separating by mere millimetres with a web of saliva connecting you both before he giggles, pecks your lips, and lets you go (leaving you breathless, aching, and somehow wanting for more as you watch him practically skip away to do whatever it is that he had planned)

your laughter is his absolute favourite sound in the world and he will do anything it takes to make sure that he gets to hear it for the rest of his life

he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill or torment someone for you if only you asked — hell, you don’t even need to ask, the second it’s clear that someone has made you upset, stressed, or uncomfortable, he’s finding their location and plotting to either take them out completely or forcibly make them a part of his act (it’s not too difficult to take control of someone, after all, and he’s certainly done worse for less… and what better cause is there for mayhem than protecting his partner’s honour and well-being?)

all of his pet names for you are as over the top and random as you would expect from someone like him, including all sorts of nicknames from inanimate objects to puns relating to your name and/or interests to random animals that remind him of you to the most disgustingly cheesy terms of endearment that he can think of, to anything in between — and he’s happy to respond to anything you choose to call him, no matter how ridiculous of a pet name it may be

he’s extremely quick to jealousy and has been known to lash out at anyone who dares to get too close to you for his comfort (unless it’s one of a few select individuals that he’s approved of being in your presence) — it’s actually the main thing you argue about when it comes to your relationship, but that’s not going to change anytime soon so you may just be better off accepting that side of him rather than trying to strong arm him into being a better person

[neilarmstrongssmile]

Ok, I need to talk about it. The Five x Lila thing is uncomfortable and kinda gross to me. But mabye I'm not seeing the vision/my discomfort is not the reason it's a bad idea necesarilly. So... here are some reasons besides that on why it's just a bad idea:

1. Why give Five a love story at all? He had a love story, has had it the whole show - love for his family. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve romantic love (with an actual human), but knowing it's the last season and knowing they have only 6 eposodes mabye don't? Introducing the romance in the second to last episode? And developing it through a montague? It's not enough time

2. What's the purpose of the subway station to the story? The only characters on it are Five and Lila (later also Lila's family + Claire), they don't accomplish anything with it, don't find anything useful, don't learn anything new. It's an excuse to have them get lost there, so that they could fall in love. IT'S THE LAST SEASON! Don't waste a cool location like that! Why didn't other characters get there? Why didn't they get Bennifer there and put Ben on one train and Jennifer on another while they think of another permanent safe solution? Use the subway station for actual plot or get rid of it - and that way we don't have the out-of-character falling in love crap

3. Ok, thay are lost, it's been years, they are loosing hope, they are clinging to the only other real thing. There's no guilt? No talk of Diego, Lila's children? There's no false start? They just kiss, remark it's not weird and live idyllicly together? I don't need depressing scenes of them crying for their family and hating themselves for being together, but what we got was not a relationship created by necessity but a normal falling in love story as if Lila isn't MARRIED CURRENTLY to Five's BROTHER! There should be some weirdness, some discussion of what exactly their relationship is, what would happen if they managed to come back. It's inconsistent (with previous characterisation but that's another thing) - are they genuinly in love, or using each other? Is Lila trully happy and in love, or pretending, while being desperate to come back to reality with Diego and her kids? They seem really in love, but after Five finally (5 months!?!?? WTF that's gross) shows Lila the notebook and she leaves she makes it seem as if she's choosing Diego and her marriage. But then she cannot answer 'Do you love him?', gives Five longing glances, is holding his hand... I know that she could be confused and unsure but it doesn't seem as if she doesn't know, it seems like she acts in the way for all the scenes to be dramatic even if it contradicts what happened previously.

4. So they manage to go back, Lila doesn't immedietly confess to Diego, and when the truth comes out Five is mad? He is in the wrong! He went after his brother's wife, he should be apologetic, he should feel weird to be in Diego's home, not combative. Yeah, your love life is complicated and not everything is roses after your return but it's on you YOU WENT AFTER A MARRIED WOMAN! WITH KIDS! And you're mad at her husband for being mad at you? No, he should be ashamed. And ok, get mad later, say that you were finally happy, and now it's gone, scream it at Lila or Diego, but not from the get go. That makes him seem like such a scumbag .

5. You wanted Five to have a romance. In my opinion unnecessary, but do you. You wanted it to be with Lila. In my opinion very weird choice, but sure. Why have Lila and Diego married? We have a 6 year time skip. They could have been just co-parenting and no longer together (and never married). Why make a subplot where Diego thinks Lila is cheating on him (as a joke) to then make it a reality? Why not have Diego and Lila have this season to grow close as friends and co-parent as a unit after years of conflict and have Diego be supportive of this weird incestuous relationship? (TUA unfortunately is no stranger to that, and UA already has weird and complicated relationships all around) instead of falling apart in such a fashion? IT'S THE LAST SEASON at the very least have all our main characters go out without conflict with each other. Five's lat words to Diego were 'I'm gonna kill you'.

It seems they made this whole thing as messy as possible, but then didn't dive deep into the mess to have some actual drama, didn't adress the mess, didn't vindicate any of those characters. And if you're just creating mess and don't engage with it, and it's THE LAST SEASON mabye you should've just left it alone - Lila and Diego together and happy, and Five doing everything to be with his family, safe. I'm dissapointed.

[olderthannetfic]

I have a mutual that I love and cherish and all, but I just. I think she may be stupid.

There’s this prolific author who's praises she's been singing. Not in our shared fandom, fortunately. Except. Except. She found out some time ago that these fics are all AI generated. And now all she does is cry and complain how these were SUCH outstanding fics, that was her FAVORITE author ever, they were so SPECIAL and MEANINGFUL fics, she LOVED that writing to bits, they rewired her brainworms or whatever, how is it POSSIBLE etc etc.

And like. Girl. I'm sorry, but if that’s all true, then you have the shittiest taste in anything ever and you've never read any actual writing that deserves to be called writing.

OR that author is fucking with you and their entire audience and heavily editing their stuff after getting it from chatgpt (or running some weird social experiment and not using AI at all??? who knows) or something like that.

Like I get that after plagirizing so much fic AI can make perfectly passable slop and soooometimes even churn out something genuinely funny or hot or unique or whatever. But if “the best writing you ever read” turns out to be all AI then I'm sorry but your taste just sucks, and your dramatic mourning is unnecessary because literally any other fic you can pick is guaranteed to be at least as good. I wish there was a polite way to tell her to get a grip and read literally anything else. I hope this passes soon.

--

The only people I've seen happy with AI-written fics are a couple of friends with extreme rarepairs who play around with chatgpt for fun since there's nothing else for their blorbos.

[ssentimentals]

Hey, I love your work so much 🫶🏻

Idk if anyone has requested this before, but if they didn't, I was wondering if you could write Mingyu with Suggestive prompt 21? Maybe with a plus sized!reader if that's okay 🥹🖤

But if you don't feel comfortable writing for plus sized!reader it's fine, I'd read anything with Mingyu and this prompt honestly 😔✊🏻🖤

baby, i am very comfortable writing for plus sized!reader, thank you very much for requesting it and being so sweet about it! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you.'

shopping is a fun thing to do, but you have to be in a certain mood for it to go well. most of the times it's such a hassle to figure out correct size and good fit with casual clothes, but when it comes to something fancier this hassle turns into a full-blown struggle. you cringe at your reflection in the mirror - the size of the dress is correct, but the fit is just wrong. the fabric clings to your figure in all of the wrong places, shows off what you'd like to hide and makes you appear way bigger than you actually are. which is a pity, because this dress is so pretty and color looks amazing on you, but the way your love handles and tummy gets accentuated here is not flattering at all. it almost makes you want to cry, to be honest - you love your body and you want to look beautiful, how can finding a nice dress be this hard? it's an important event for mingyu and he already chose a suit for it that looks dashing on him; as his plus one you can't look anything less than perfect.

'how it's going, babe?' mingyu calls out loud enough for you to hear from the changing rooms. 'can i come in?'

'no!' you rush out, quickly composing yourself.

you hear sound of footsteps coming closer and suddenly mingyu is right here behind the curtain: 'but i wanna see,' he whines cutely. 'i wanna see how that dress looks on you. i bet it's so pretty.'

you shake your head, upset. 'it is not, gyu.'

'no?' he questions, surprised. 'but i thought it'd be perfect on you. is it on you now? can i look?' his hand tugs at the curtain insistently.

you know mingyu is not going to back out, so you sigh and move the curtain, letting him see what you see in that awful reflection. for few moments mingyu is silent but then his hands are on your hips and he plasters his front to your back: 'babe. shit. looking so good.'

you blink at these words, meeting his gaze in the mirror. one of you definitely has a bad eyesight, because mingyu looks at you like you are a goddess and you want to never see yourself in this dress again. 'it's awful,' you says, looking at him confused. 'look at the rolls. and at my tummy. my god.'

mingyu frowns, his hands skim from your hips to your tummy and then go lower to brush your thighs in a very not-pg way. 'i see curves and i see beauty. what do you see?'

you can tell that is not lying but still - 'it's not that sexy, gyu.'

mingyu chuckles, leaning in to press few kisses on your hair. 'you could be wearing a trash bag and i'd still want you, babe. you're always sexy to me. if you don't like this dress then fine, no worries, we can look for something else. but you are sexy. very much so.'

you melt, letting him pepper your face with kisses. someone clears their throat and you push mingyu away, giggling at his dramatic pout and how he tries to hold on to your hips. 'more kisses when you're out?' he asks, puppy eyes on full display.

'more kisses when i'm out,' you promise, smiling.

shopping can be such a hassle and unnecessary struggle, but at least you got mingyu with you.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[aziraphales-library]

I love your blog sm it’s been VERY helpful for me to find Fics! Do u have any smut Fics with bottom Azi and top cro that involves their first time together? Also maybe crying and/or rlly sweet aftercare?

Here are some first time fics with top Crowley/bottom Aziraphale...

A Healthy Appetite by INeedABurnerAccountOkay (E)

Crowley blames himself, really. He was the one who had tempted the angel in the first place. With the first taste of that ox, he’d created a monster. An angelic monster with a heavy appetite and a fondness for all things human. So, it really shouldn’t have come as such as a shock, when Aziraphale asked him to stave off his hunger for something quite different.

the desire and pursuit of the whole by unsinkablesammy (E)

After their respective trials, Aziraphale goes back to Crowley's flat and sees something he wasn't supposed to. Confessions and romance ensue.

Oh Dear Salvation by myfairstarlight (E)

1941. West End London. Their Arrangement has been discovered by an agent of Hell and when the sun rises, consequences will have to be faced. But not tonight, Crowley decides as he finally breaks and gives in to temptation, tonight they’re together, and if tomorrow may not be guaranteed anymore then he’d rather have a taste of his angel at last before they both meet their demise. “Angel,” he calls, hands reaching for the boa around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulling him down on the sofa, “changed my mind, what was it you said about doing something in return for me?”

The Wrong Thing by SuspiciousCharacter1895 (E)

“We’ve played every game humanity’s ever invented, haven’t we?” They had indeed played quite a variety of board games, card games, word games, et cetera. Crowley had drawn the line somewhere around charades. “We haven’t played Truth or Dare,” Aziraphale said with unnecessary dramatic emphasis. Crowley took a moment to gauge whether or not Aziraphale was serious. It appeared that he was. “Come off it.” “What’s wrong with Truth or Dare?” Aziraphale asked innocently. “That’s barely a game.” “The magazine said it was a good way to ‘introduce novelty and fun, and to initiate conversations that you might not have had otherwise,’” Aziraphale recited. That’s exactly why it’s a bad idea. Especially this many drinks in. .... During lockdown, Crowley and Aziraphale resort to Truth or Dare to alleviate the monotony. The truth may be dangerous but, as it turns out, may very well set them free.

You had me at "Crowley In a Lab Coat" by LaudaddySmitten (E)

With a start, Aziraphale realized he’d been blatantly staring at Crowley's throat and upper chest for heaven knows how long. Mortified, he snapped his eyes to Crowley's, which, uncovered, only further fueled his lust for the enticing botanist. Aziraphale was surprised to see that Crowley was sporting a smirk that looked…pleased. “Enjoying the view?” He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh my, I er…..” Aziraphale gulped and looked down at his wringing hands. “How rude of me. I'm…ah, terribly sorry…” “Angel. Don’t apologize. I was actually…hoping you would.” Hands instantly stilled, Aziraphale looked up quickly. Had he heard that right? Crowley held Aziraphale's gaze and trailed fingertips in a circle on the lab counter. OR It's Crowley in a lab coat, do I need to say more? 😉 (Mind the tags)

how you've haunted me by sunrisesinthesuburbs (E)

Aziraphale loves because he's an angel and wants more because he's Aziraphale. or; picture this: an angel and a demon (though it doesn't matter much, nowadays) move in together and assume many things about one another. This is how it goes.

- Mod D

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

The Dojo Gojo Casa House

Hi guys, here’s a gojo x reader that I started writing months ago. The title literally gripped me by my neck and wouldn’t let go so gaze upon this monstrosity >:3

Satoru never played fair. That was a fact of life. But he also never cheated. It was unnecessary when everything he tried came like second nature. He was athletic, he was smart, he could sing, and he could charm himself out of just about any situation he wasn’t supposed to be in. It would have been fine if he was humble. More down to earth like Nanami or Shoko. But he wasn’t. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend like the world didn’t come to a halt the day he was born. He was cocky. He was brash, and he was fucking annoying to make matters worse. He picked a target and he wore them down until they weren’t any fun to play with anymore. Once Nanami had left the jujutsu world in pursuit of college you wish you had gone with him because Satoru was insufferable. You were only a second grade, you weren’t terribly strong and you knew that, but Satoru just needed to remind you any chance he could get. He’s always been insufferable, for as long as you can remember, every memory you’ve had of him revolved around him teasing someone. It was something he was known for; yet he still managed to get under your skin.

This job was stressful, anyone could tell you that. It’s why Shoko smoked a pack a day, why Suguru defected, and why Nanami had left. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, yet you ended up staying; persuaded by some fluffed up speech on how much good you would be doing. It was hard to see the good when you ended each day exhausted and crying in Shoko’s office about how awful it was. Everyone had their vices, and yours was staying even though it made you sick. The tears weren’t too bad, you had always been on the more sensitive side and it was cathartic really. Shoko never made you feel bad and if she was annoyed by your daily visits she didn’t show it. Maybe she was just happy enough to see a sorcerer retain their humanity. The only person who seemed to even acknowledge it was Satoru, appearing at the worst times when your eyes were still red and puffy and he would tease you. It wasn’t cruel in hindsight because Satoru wasn’t cruel per say, but he was insensitive. Cooing and pouting dramatically at your teary eyes, patting your head in a way so condescending you would have swung on him if infinity wasn’t in the way. You were pissed, your hands shaking and your face hot. His taunting words and sardonic laughter only seemed to bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes and you wanted to disappear. You were never getting out of this, where Satoru perceived weakness, he saw an opportunity to have his fun.

You were fucked.

“Cute,” he laughed, squishing your cheeks together; only laughing harder when you batted at his hands.

That was three years ago. Things have changed, the jujutsu world was busier than ever with the emergence of Sukuna’s vessel, even leading Nanami out of hiding and back to his death sentence. You’ve changed, spending the last two of these years teaching at the Kyoto school; only having been transferred back over to take over the second years while Satoru dealt with the Itadori case. Everyone seemed to mellow out, even Satoru. Being a teacher seems to have finally jump-started the part of his frontal lobe that produced empathy. He was calmer, almost nicer, in a way. He didn’t wear white bandages anymore, instead swapping them out for a black blindfold. It was nice. Things felt nice and almost complete in a way they haven’t for a very long time. You still chat with Shoko, but now you have Nanami to hang out with again; catching up on some four odd years and how you’ve both been doing.

Satoru still seemed to tail you but in a very different way. He was busier now, still taking on missions and teaching his classes, but wherever you were he didn’t seem to be far behind. Especially if Nanami was there.

“My two favorite Kouhai!” You hear yelled from down the hall. You groan letting your head slump against the table and Nanami sighs following suit, today was definitely not the day. Doing shots and getting ramen at 3 am seemed like a great idea: but god was hindsight twenty-twenty. Your head was pounding.

It didn’t take long for him to burst into the teacher’s lounge, only pausing when he saw the two of you face down. You heard it, if only for a second; but it made your blood run cold. That fucking laughter. You feel your stomach churn and you let out a shuddery breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You were not going to cry. You had been working on it these last few years. Challenging yourself, trying to find different outlets; but when it came to Satoru nobody could ever seem to win. You feel the lump in your throat and a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh?” His voice intones, sounding delighted. “Thought some time away would do you good, didn’t know you were still a crybaby.” You could hear him smirking.

“Gojo, I don’t think that comment is very appropriate.” Nanami says, his voice gravelly and warning.

“Lighten up,” Satoru chuckles, “I’m just teasing her.”

“You’re as incorrigible as I remember,” Nanami sighs, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “They let you teach the youth?”

“Nanamin,” he coos, “Bold of you to assume I need permission to do anything.”

Scratch that, nothing has changed. He was just as annoying as he was in high school, and he’ll continue to be annoying until something strong enough crawls out of hell to kill him.

“Woah, calm down sweetheart,” he says, pulling his hand off of you, “I can feel you spiking, you wanna fight me or something?”

“Don’t,” Nanami warns, giving you a tired glare. He’s played this game before and he knows how it ends.

You did. You absolutely did. Even if it meant getting your ass blasted halfway across the dojo, if you could land even one punch you’d be satisfied. You lift your head up and turn to glare at him, ignoring the inertia of your hangover. Your eyes were watering in rage, and you could feel your heart racing and your cursed energy practically boiling below the surface.

His lips part a bit before they curl in into a smirk.

“Oh. You do wanna fight me.” He says. He bends down to sit on his haunches, even going as far to lift the blindfold up so you’re truly eye to eye.

“That’s cute,” he says, smiling in a way that seems dangerous. “You sure you’re not gonna cry if I hit you?”

“Go to hell.” You spit, you’re seething, this wasn’t good. He looks you over once, then twice, before laughing. That same laugh that made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t describe. He reaches a hand forward, cold against your cheek wiping one of your tears.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing the tear between his fingers. “You wouldn’t last a second. You’re weak.”

You snap. You’re bringing a hand forward to slap him but it’s grabbed in the blink of an eye, shoved back against your chest with a force that pushes the table. You could see Nanami out of the corner of your eye reaching for the nata, but he stops, because Satoru is laughing again.

“Really cute,” he laughs, “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He lets go of your hand and stands up stretching. “This was fun, I've gotta run though; the students should be done with their laps right about now. If you really wanna try that again, meet me in the training room after school.”

He’s just about out of the room before he shoots an eerie glance at Nanami. “And if you come, come alone.”

“What…the fuck was that?” You whisper, dropping your head into your hands. The adrenaline coursing through your body made you feel almost nauseous. You heard Nanami sigh and feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Is he gonna—”

“He wants to sleep with you.” He says bluntly.

What.

“What?” You say, almost ready to flip the table because nothing makes sense today. “He wants to beat my ass!”

“Beat? No.” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “But as someone who was subjected to the boys dormitory, I am painfully aware of how Gojo-san flirts, it seems like nothing about him has changed.”

“What are you saying?” You say.

“I’m saying,” he says, fully sitting up, “He used to taunt Geto-san in a very similar way, he’s got a very… roundabout way of flirting. As juvenile as it is, this is him flirting. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“You mean this is a pattern for him?” You groan.

“Once again, you weren’t subjected to the boys dormitory,” he says and shivers a bit. “Those fights in the courtyard took very interesting… turns.”

“He’s going to kill me,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“You’re going?” He asks, raising a brow. You can feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head.

“I-I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

“Did not.”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

———————-

The day seemed to drag on as you waited for the clock to strike three. Maybe if you had been better distracted it would have flown by faster, but Satoru seemed to want you fired up long before your little meeting. He took your fucking students. Walked right into the classroom, and decided today was the day he wanted to take them on a day trip to Korea. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to ask if you wanted to go. Just waltzing in like he owned the place and poofing away with your kids. It makes your blood boil even hotter, because he knows the second years have state tests coming up soon. You couldn’t even remember the last time one of them has scored above a fifty, the highest score was Panda, and you couldn’t even document his work without looking insane.

So here you were, in the lounge with Ijichi going over reports because you weren’t salaried yet and you’d rather die than let Satoru keep you from a full day's pay. The poor man was practically shaking next to you, hoping you didn’t snap and test out your black flash on him. He wasn’t too far off either, you were wired, the knots in your stomach growing tighter each time you replayed the events of the day. You wouldn’t hurt him, intentionally; but you were seconds away from asking Yaga for a cursed corpse to blow off some steam.

The problem is, it wouldn’t even be satisfying. You only had one target in mind, and he was frolicking around doing God knows what in Korea. The clock struck three, and Satoru still hadn’t returned.

He didn’t show until almost six, you had already trained and warmed up; even going as far as sparring with Nanami to prepare yourself. You now owed him dinner and a bottle of brandy, but you felt ready.

Your blood was pumping and you felt alive.

Satoru waltzed in just like he had to your classroom, and you saw blue; all you could see was blue. His cursed energy illuminated the room which set to piss you off even further. There was no urgency in his steps, no sense of duty; he walked in like he was perusing the convenience store.

“Sorry,” he snickers, raising his hand in greeting. “Got a little carried away, forgive me?” A condescending pout plastered on his lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“You’re sorry?” You breathe in disbelief.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He says, stripping off his jacket revealing a shirt that had no business being so tight.

“You’re so fucking--” you say, cutting yourself off with a groan. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t just leave people waiting--”

“You came alone,” he says, cutting you off. “Didn’t bring your bodyguard?”

“Bodyguard? What the fuck are you talking abou—”

“Please,” he scoffs, “Like Nanami-kun doesn’t trail you like a dog?”

“Oh so he’s the one trailing me?”you scoff. “Satoru, I can barely get away from you.”

He takes a step closer, his breath tickling your neck. “Yeah? So you’ve noticed, can’t get enough of you—”

“Oh give it a rest”You groan, taking a step back. “Flirt with the wall, are we gonna fight or what?”

He chuckles, taking a step forward. “You still wanna fight?”

“What else would I come here for?”you scoff, “You said if I was still up for it we would, so let’s fight”

“Let’s fight…”he chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright”

He takes a step forward, you can feel the cursed energy radiating off of him barely contained.

“I’ll raise you something better, sweetheart” he continues, flashing a pointed grin. “I’ll take this” he says, snapping his fingers and the aura of the room shifted; feeling lighter. “Off.” He was closer now, the gap between you two slim to nothing, you could feel his breath he was so close. Was it…? You reached forward tentatively and recoiled when you actually touched skin.

It was.

Infinity was off. He smirked, giving you a nod. “And, I’ll even let you strike first. I heard from a little birdie that you’re close contact”

“I don’t need your pity” you scoff, raising your hands. “Don’t hold back”

“Oh sweetheart,”he laughs. In the blink of an eye he was surging forward and your legs were kicked from underneath you. Before you could hit the ground he was right there to catch you.

“You won’t make it out alive if I actually fought you” he says, there was another surge and you were thumping your head against the mat while he stood over you, extending a hand. “and we need this pretty head attached that pretty body…y’know, in case we need backup”

“You’re such a bastard!—“you exclaim and yelp when he phases in front of you again, grabbing your hands and pinning them. This wasn’t fair, he was too fucking fast you could barely see him; trying to track him with your eyes made you sick.

“Fight with your hands, sweetheart”he goads, appearing behind you and pushing you to the floor, his foot on the small of your back. “Not your mouth”

Another flash of cursed energy and he’s crouched down in front of you, holding out his hand again. “Awww, already tired?”

You don’t take his hand instead swerving to kick his ankles, hoping that would take him down. He falters a bit to your elation, but you weren’t fast enough for the kill. You should’ve brought a cursed weapon, what the fuck were you thinking? The moment you’re on your feet you’re swept off of them again.

You’re panting, unable to even strike and spending most of your time on the defense avoiding his blows. He’s close again, right against your ear.

“Still want me to play fai-”

You crack your fist back instinctively, surprised when it actually makes contact with his jaw. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the adrenaline making your body tremble. You could barely breathe, every ounce of your being going into not ending up thrown across the room.

“Hah”he says, rubbing his jaw. “Cute. You call that little love tap a punch?”

“Stop calling me cute”You spit out through gritted teeth, gripping his arm and digging your nails in causing him to wince. If you couldn’t land another hit you surely weren’t going to let go.

“Get your fuckin claws out of me”he grunts, gripping your other arm so you’re both at a standstill.

“Stop calling me cute then,”you repeat, digging your nails in deeper; you’d break skin if you kept going, you kind of wanted to.

“Ah”he grunts, the pain turning into laughter. “Can’t I call it how I see it, baby?”

He grips your arm tighter to pull you closer. “So fucking cute”he says, his breath against your cheek. “The way you squirm…god”

“I fucking hate you”you seethe, trying to pull your arm away. His hands were so cold, but they felt nice against your skin.

“Do you?”he asks, “you fucking hate me?”he purrs, pulling you even closer. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the adrenaline churning in your stomach and making your knees weak.

“Yeah”you breathe. He pulls up his blindfold revealing those bright blue eyes that have your heart beating even faster.

“Then show me how much you hate me”he says, one last tug pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel his heart beating, and you couldn’t pinpoint why it felt surreal. Satoru was untouchable in a way that had him seen as less than human. To confirm he did in fact have a heartbeat throws your world on its axis again. The rhythmic thumping against his chest lulled you into a trance.

“Come on”he says again, his breath fanning over your head. “If you hate me so much then show me”

“Maybe you can’t?”he muses. “What is it? Tell me, I’m listening”

“I hate you”you repeat, your voice taking on a shaky tone.

“Aw baby”he coos, letting go of your arm to squish your cheeks. “This doesn’t feel like hate, now does it? You’re all over me”

“Let go of me!”you grunt, swinging blindly. Your heart was thumping rapidly and you could hardly breathe.

“Do you really want me to?”he asks, his touch light now, ready to back off if you gave him the word. And you couldn’t.

Time paused.

Did you really want him to?

Your breathing falters and your stomach churns as his lips turn up in a feral grin, his canines sharper than any person’s should be. You wanted to feel them against your throat. You could feel his cursed energy buzzing against your skin, it felt electric. His grip softened a bit and his eyes took on a lighter gaze.

“Really”he says, his voice low and serious in a way you’ve never heard. “Tell me to stop and I will. It’s all your call.”

Did you want him to stop?

One look in his eyes and you knew things would never be the same.

Thanks for reading the inner workings of my mind with this fucker. It’s not my best or even good but it’s honest work🥹

If you want a pt.2 with the actual smut lmk but it might take me seven to eight business months to finish.

[read-write-thrive]

part 1

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop”, while pessimistic, seemed to be a running theme in Charles Rowland’s life. It wasn’t really a phrase he heard when he was alive, to be fair, but at some point he’d come across it (probably hanging out with too many Americans, but can’t remember for sure) and it felt a little too much accurate. His dad’s come home angry again? Time to wait for the fallout. He’d gotten written up at school for not paying attention? Just a disaster waiting to happen. He goes against his best mate’s advice? There he goes, literally torn from Charles’s arms and back to hell, just as he’d said. Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but that’s the gist.

The looming anxiety of it all usually slid off of him for the minor stuff, and was otherwise bottled up and shoved far away for the heavier stuff, but regardless he didn’t let it show. Have to keep up appearances and all. He’d only had one real instance of all those emotions blowing up (and he still blames the Night Nurse for all that mess) so he thought he was doing a bang-up job keeping himself together.

That was until his dad died. Yeah, it was rough, and he ended up berating the old man on his death bed, which probably was a shitty thing to do. And yeah, he’d needed a bit of a cry afterwards. So what? Blokes cried sometimes, and he was man enough to admit to his emotions and all that. The girls had done a good job of emphasising that he (and, mostly, Edwin) needed to express their emotions more. That it was healthier to let it out than bottle it all up. Not sure if they still needed healthy habits as ghosts, but it wasn’t hurting anyone. Just a little uncomfortable.

All that to say, it felt like his friends had been treading on eggshells around him ever since his dad died. Which was infuriating, yeah, but also didn’t make sense to him. Especially after he’d already cried—did they expect him to get angry again? To blow up over a dead man? He thought he’d gotten it out of his system just fine, so getting these weird vibes was starting to stress him out more than anything. He’d resolved to bring it up on their next movie night and ask why they were acting funny—didn’t want to mess up a case, after all.

However, he didn’t get the chance before it all came crashing down on his head. Ultimately, Edwin was the messenger.

“Charles, I—“ he took an unnecessary breath, “Have you checked on your mother lately?”

His undead heart went cold, but his default smiley ways were still stuck on, “Not really, why?”

Edwin’s eyes were sad, which was never good. He didn’t emote unless it was serious, “I think you need to visit her. She’s not faring well.”

And so they went. Turns out everyone hadn’t been waiting for Charles to blow up, but rather for his mother to pass and then for him to break down all over again. Edwin had been checking on her daily since his father’s passing, deducing correctly that Charles would be too swept up in the emotions around his dad dying to remember that his mum wasn’t getting any younger.

The girls weren’t free until the evening, but they promised to stay in touch and maybe visit later if they could (particularly if they could figure out how to visit the Hospice without rousing suspicion). And so Edwin and Charles were on their own.

Charles had rushed into the room, as if running at the issue would evade the emotions of it, or as if getting there quickly would reveal it was all a lie—neither of which were true.

Instead, he was face to face with a dying woman with some resemblance to the photo on the mantle in the house he grew up in—his grandmother, or maybe his great grandmother, or some favourite aunt, he couldn’t remember anymore— hair gone fully white, pulled back into a tight bun so as to keep her curls controlled, keeping her gaunt, sleeping face exposed. Unlike that photo, this woman was in a hospital gown, tucked into sterile sheets, with a tube under her nose to help her breathe. Gone were her usually loud and ornate earrings, her bare fingernails stained from years of colour. There was a singular blanket laid across her lap, on top of the sheets, that almost looked more familiar than the woman it covered. It was her, but apparently he hadn’t stopped to just look at her any time recently, if ever. It felt too much like looking at a ghost, as ironic as that felt.

She was awake, but halfway to dozing. There was someone at her side, adjusting the blanket and murmuring reassurances in what was definitely Punjabi. It had been so long since he’d heard it, added to having never properly learned anything besides English under the threat of his father, that he couldn’t make out the words. That realisation left a stinging feeling in his chest.

“A relation of yours?” Edwin asked at a whisper, coming up to stand beside Charles, almost entirely copying his position from that fateful hospital room. It didn’t seem as if either of the room’s living occupants had noticed them.

Charles blindly reached for Edwin’s hand for comfort, not looking away from the scene in front of him and matching his partner’s volume, “No idea. Don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

Edwin hummed, “Perhaps a little too young to have met you. Or someone your mother reconnected with recently—“

“I’m not really in the mood for deductions, love.” Charles said, not unkindly. Everything felt too fragile to be picked apart like that.

“Right. Apologies.” Edwin squeezed his hand and went quiet.

Charles squeezed his hand back in forgiveness, joining in the silence. He kept going back to what the stranger was saying, familiar consonants both soothing and devastating. What kind of a son was he, failing to comfort his dying mother, unable to speak her mother tongue, a stranger to his relatives? His tears were thankfully silent.

It took much longer for his mother to see them than his father. Several days passed, with the mystery relative coming and going more days than not, and the usual nurses and caregivers administering various care. Over time, the boys (the girls couldn’t figure out how to enter the space, but were supportive from their distance) had learned that the stranger’s name was Sangeeta, and she was a niece of his mother’s who’d noticed her steady decline and was the one to take her to hospital and then to hospice care. Charles’s mother had apparently stopped taking care of herself after her husband’s death, and she had refused other care, so at this point all they could do was make her comfortable. Charles spent a whole morning ranting to Edwin about it, how unfair it was that her life was so tied up in his asshole father’s that she wasn’t even trying to live after he was gone. Edwin, the deeply kind person he was, had let Charles rant until he ran out of steam, then gently pointed out that she’d been under the thumb of his father for far longer than Charles was, and that she’d now had to mourn her husband and her only child, which presumably takes a toll. Charles had started crying before Edwin had even finished talking, and Edwin had held him close on the plush sofa for the rest of the day.

It was hard to tell if it was a comfort or not when she finally saw them, but Charles decided that wasn’t important to think about right now, if ever. Right now, his mother could see him for the first time in forty years, and they didn’t know for how much longer. And yet, with all this time to prepare, he still found himself speechless when the time finally came.

“Mere laal,” She beat him to the punch, eyes glazed over but clearly locked on Charles, “I am glad to see you again, beta. It’s been so long.”

Charles let out a shakey breath, “Hi, mum. It’s—well— it’s been longer for you. I’ve visited a few times, over the years.”

She reached out a sinewy hand on a bone-thin arm, and Charles flew to the seat by her side, keeping his focus to make sure his hand stayed solid in her grasp. He vaguely noticed Edwin taking the seat beside him.

“Such a handsome boy. You were so young.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Charles, all anxious energy and nerves, tears of his own threatening to spill, was quick to respond, “It’s alright, mum, I’m alright. No need to cry over me.”

She huffed, “Nonsense. You were the light of my life. Who else should I cry over?”

They were both crying at this point, tears streaming as they sniffled in turns. Edwin laid a careful hand on Charles’s back in a show of comfort.

However, that seemed to give Charles an idea, “No, really mum, it’s okay! See the bloke next to me? His name’s Edwin, and he’s been by my side all these years! He’s the one who first found me, and we’ve been helping people ever since. It’s been aces. Not sad one bit.”

Edwin stiffened at the mention, then all but froze when her eyes turned to him. He knew he looked night and day from Charles, and if he started talking she was bound to find him as abrasive as everyone always did, so why had Charles pointed him out!? If ghosts could sweat, Edwin would be drowning in his nerves.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long moment before she broke the silence, “He’s been good to you? Not like those other boys.”

Edwin wasn’t sure what to do with that, but thankfully Charles was quick on the uptake, “Not like them at all. He’s— he’s the best, mum. None of those tossers could even compare.”

“Because the boys— the ones who—“

Charles gripped her hand, “I know, I know. He’s a genuinely good person, Edwin. I was bad at picking friends in life, but thankfully I chose well with this one.”

His attempt at joking was overlooked completely by her, “Those boys, how could they do that? I knew their families, John Parish’s mother went to your funeral… Such cruel boys…”

“I’m alright, mum, I’m okay.” Charles kept going, smiling even as the tears continued, “It’s all in the past.”

“I should’ve fought harder for you… kept you close… mere laal, taken from me…” She was sobbing, her whole frame shaking with hiccoughs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles took a steadying breath, “You know I couldn’t have stayed in that house, mum. And no one could’ve known those lads would go that far…”

Her sobs were worse for a moment, then stilled suddenly as she fought for oxygen. She coughed weakly.

At that, Charles’s crying intensified, despite all he did to keep himself together. He could tell. He knew what was coming. It was still devastating to see. Edwin pulled him in for a proper side hug, taking care not to jostle his grip on his mum.

This did not go unnoticed, and the dying woman suddenly smiled, as if the devastation was forgotten with the oxygen. She looked back to her son, “I am glad you have been happy, beta. You deserved happiness.”

“I’m happy, I’ve been so happy mum, I promise,” Charles tried to calm himself down, stuck in his reassuring her.

“Mere laal, light of my life, darling boy,” She breathed with difficulty, smile dropping, “Can you forgive me? I failed you…”

Charles’s frame shook with his vigorous nodding, “I forgive you, mum, you did the best you could, I love you so much—“

Her weak smile returned, glinting in the lamplight of the evening room, “Thank you, beta. You were too good for me, for this world…”

“All because of you, I swear it, all thanks to you—“

“Charles.”

“I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son, I’m could’ve been better, gotten you out of that house—“

“Charles, darling.”

“You deserved better, I love you, I forgive you—“

“My love, the light—“

Edwin was right, a deep blue light had filled the space, illuminating the still body of his mother. Her face was pulled into a slight smile, eyes closed, as if she was having a pleasant dream, even as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

“No, no I’m not ready—“ Charles immediately started to protest, gripping onto her hand like a lifeline.

“Charles—“

“I only just got to see her! She only just got free of him! No, no, I won’t—“

Edwin gently but solidly grabbed under Charles’s arms, “I’m sorry my love but we should go—“

Charles was nothing but hysterics by this point, head thudding onto the sheets for a moment before Edwin fully pulled him away. He said more, but Charles was too overwhelmed to process it properly, buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes making him feel alive in all the worst ways. Maybe it was just the first time he had cried this hard in his afterlife, or maybe being this close to an active death did something to their physiology—

Everything was a blur as they returned to the flat, Edwin all but carrying him through the mirror so that he wouldn’t get lost on the way. They collapsed onto the sofa, extra large cushions taken up by their ghostly presences. The girls were already there, and joined into the cuddle pile without another word (or perhaps with a few, Charles still wasn’t all there yet). Edwin jostled them all slightly to better position everyone before settling in again, making sure Charles was properly surrounded.

Charles sobbed for a while longer. He wasn’t quite sure for how long, or what day it was, or if he was bothering his friends by taking up their time and space like this. His devastation had seemed to take over his entire being. But, when he did breathe a little easier, when he was finally able to sit up, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. His mom was dead, yes, but so was he, and dying had granted them both freedom from that man, from that house, from the cruelties of the world. And in his death he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were there for him when he needed them and would still be there for him tomorrow, and the next, and the next. The other shoe had dropped, and it certainly hurt, but thankfully he had people around him to help him through it. He was truly lucky to have them.

~

hope you enjoyed this impromptu series exploring Charles and his parents and grief and loss and all those lovely things. this was inspired by the complicated emotions I have / had after my grandparents passing, and I heavily encourage you to do something similar if you’re ever struggling with these big emotions—therapists and such will say that journaling is where it’s at, but sometimes it’s easier to project onto fictional characters and that’s ok !!! and, just to drive the point home, I want to reiterate that you are loved, and there are people around you who are there to support you, I promise ❤️

also, just to make it abundantly clear, I’m a v white midwestern american and as such have vvv limited knowledge of cultural aspects of Charles’s mom—I did research and tried my best, but if I screwed anything up PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!!! same goes for Britishisms ig but mostly looking for feedback on her Punjabi and her various cultural elements :)

[beach-hermit]

(alot of) Elliott headcanons

Some are random, some are unnecessary detailed

-Has a hair and skin care routine (that's why he needs that long to leave his house in the morning)

-Has a drivers licence, but he doesn't like to drive (mainly because he doesn't own a car, since he is in Pelican Town)

-Wears glasses when he reads or writes (I imagine when his kid shows him something on the phone, that he has to first pull out his glasses)

-Twirls his hair when he is concentrating or nervous

-Combs his hair when he's bored, even if it's already perfectly combed

-Can't cook very well, but is always trying his best

-Can sing and likes to sing

-If Elliott didn't became a writer, he would be a musician

-Likes to dance

-Randomly uses other language(s)

-He is confident, especially when it comes to his looks. He likes his appearance, but doesn't brag about it

-Coffee addicted

-Elliott picked up drawing, because he thought it looked easy when he saw Leah doing it without problem

-Likes all the flowers, but the rose especially

-Is a foodie (ofc)

-Doesn't swear. He thinks it's unprofessional and will ruin his vocabulary

-When he's mad or irritated, he'll accidentally say fuck or shit, but will instantly, dramatic cover his mouth in shock

-He doesn't get angry easily, but gets fustrated alot

-Elliott would never resort to violence, if there isn't a reason too (only if he gets attacked or his partner gets attacked)

-Probably had a little drinking problem before he got married, but doesn't like to admit it

-He's lightweight (gets drunk easily)

-Always wears a hair tie on his wrist. Just in case

-Actually doesn't like getting his hands dirty

-He talkes alot and most of the time, people don't really understand him, but they just let him talk

-Elliott uses large words that the average Pelican townie hasn't heard before

-Loves telling bad jokes

-Has no idea how to use a computer

-Carries a small notebook with him, in case a idea pops up for his novel

-Stole from Pierre once because he didn't had enough money, Elliott felt extremely guilty but also didn't wanted to tell Pierre, so he didn't shop there for a few weeks

-He doesn't shave constantly, but when he does, he shave his whole body as soon as he can't see his skin anymore

-He only shaves his beard to make his face look more youthful and to show off his bone structure

-He's always warm

-Elliott sometimes walks around naked in his cabin, mostly in the morning or at night (also in the farmhouse)

-Will occasionally takes morning laps (single and married)

-Has tried smoking once and almost threw up

-If Elliott has a problem with a townie, he just won't speak with them, if the issues wasn't his fault. (He basically waits until they apologize)

-His voice gets higher when he's nervous or scared

-He snores, not extremely loud but you can hear him outside of the room

-Sweats easily

-Elliott is soft spoken, if he's mad tho, his voice ton gets "dark" and even a bit louder

-Elliott's a fast thinker, he always has the "right" thing to say and knows good comebacks

-Elliott knows alot of useless stuff about alot of things

-Remembers the names from people he just met

-Pays attention to small details (people or in books)

-Gets offended when someone uses foul language, in front of him or to him

-He has problems to fall asleep sometimes

-His handwriting is small and in cursive, that almost no one can read, everytime he writes something down for someone, he writes in block letters

-He is expressional, you can tell if he's sad, mad or happy

-Doesn't really celebrate his birthday, for him it means that he'll get older and that makes him depressed

-Elliott is strong

-But he got no combat knowledge

-Falls in love FAST

-Is good at guessing

-Gets spooked easily

-He collects useless stuff like: shells, rocks, leaves and blossoms

-Elliott is resentful, he'll never forgive you for divorcing or cheating, but he'll cry about it for a looooooong time

-Writes love letters and poems, that he wishes to someday he can share with his future spouse

marriage

-When it's a slow, lazy day on the farm, Elliott would just wear a tshirt and sweatpants, when he knows he won't go outside today

-Elliott only shows that side of comfort to his spouse. He'll never walk outside not wearing his signature formal wear, because he likes people to believe that he always dresses that good.

-Doesn't want to stay in a dirty place for too long, that's why he likes to clean the farm house

-Is always paranoid when his spouse comes home too late (even if it's only 5 minutes)

-Preferres gardening work over farming work

-Elliott jobs will be: planting plants, takes care of the greenhouse, laws the lawn, waters everything and remove weed

-Actually took his piano with in the farm house. (would be cool if the piano would be in his farm room or at least a furniture item that you get when marrying Elliot)

-When his spouse is home and tense, he'll give them a massage, draw them a bath or just be there for them

-Elliott will "force" his spouse to take a day off, to just relax and spend some time together

-Will agree on being a house husband

-Now that Elliott has access to a kitchen, he'll try some dish combinations

-Elliott only cooks when his spouse isn't home, so that they can't see the mess Elliott is going to make in the kitchen

-If his spouse is pregnant, he'll take over the farm and other activities for them, so that they have no stress

-Will speand his own money on giving gifts to his spouse or child(ren)

-His spouse may wake up with Elliott's hair on their face

-Elliott needed to get used to sleep in bed with someone, so in the early states, he would take over the whole bed on accident

-Usually calls his spouse: love, dear, honey, sweetheart, sweetie and darling. If the name allowds it, he also gives them a nickname

-If he finds his spouse passed out (and isn't hurt), he carries them all the way home

-If his spouse has long hair, he likes to play with it

-Secretly watches his spouse from afar if they work on the farm

-Puts his relationship experiences into his novel

-He keeps a picture of his spouse (and children) in his wallet

-Elliott always wears the mermaid pendant, it doesn't matter when or where

-Give's his spouse a good night kiss, if they fall asleep before him

-Man loves to cuddle

-Likes to rest his head on his spouse's chest

-When he's in the town, he wears the mermaid pendant and a wedding ring, to show off and let everyone know that he belongs to a wonderful person

NSFW version