#and i don't even think he says he watched twilight

[coriihanniee]

ABOUT YOU ⋆｡°·☁︎

۶ৎ SUMMARY : After being diagnosed with a memory-loss illness, you no longer remember the life you shared with Dongmin. He takes you to the places you once loved together, hoping something might help you remember, even if just for a moment.

۶ৎ PAIRING : Han Taesan x f!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : angst ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of memory loss/degenerative illness, emotional grief ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 4.5k words ۶ৎ PLAYLIST : About You - The 1975s

۶ৎ A/N : it's been so long since I wrote angst! I'm so glad I finally had an idea pop in my head 😭 I don't think anyone will understand how painful it was to write this unless you're someone who knows this song... 🥹

The hospital room exists in a state of perpetual twilight, where time moves differently and hope withers under fluorescent lights. Dongmin stands frozen in the doorway, his fingers cramped around yellow daisies that feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. The antiseptic air burns his lungs, but not as much as the sight of you sitting by the window, staring at nothing with eyes that once held galaxies. 

You are here, breathing, beautiful and utterly unreachable. The cruelest joke the universe has ever played. 

He knows this place now, not the hospital, but the space between recognition and emptiness where he lives these days. It’s where he goes when he needs to remember your face as it was, when love lived behind your eyes instead of this polite vacancy. In this liminal space, he can still see you laughing at his terrible jokes, still feel your fingers tracing constellations on his chest while he hummed melodies that belonged to you both. 

“Hi,” he whispers, and the word fractures in the space between his lips and your ears. 

You turn towards him with the careful attention you’d give a stranger bearing gifts, and his heart performs that familiar plummet it’s been practising for weeks now. There’s no spark of recognition, no softening of the features, no whispered “Dongmin” that once made his name sound like a prayer. 

“Hello,” you respond, and the word might as well be a eulogy. 

He wants to collapse right there, to let the grief finally consume him the way it’s been threatening to for months, but he forces his feet forward, sets the daisies on your bedside table with hands that shake despite his best efforts. You used to call them “sunshine flowers,” used to insist they were better than roses because they chose joy over drama. Now they’re just yellow petals wilting in a sterile room.

“I bought these for you,” he says, and hates how his voice sounds like he’s speaking to a polite stranger instead of the person who used to steal his hoodies and leave little notes in his guitar case. 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The gratitude is genuine but hollow, the way you’d thank a volunteer or a nurse. It doesn’t carry the weight of two years’ of shared mornings, of lazy breakfasts where you’d stick daisies behind your ears and dance around the kitchen in his t-shirt. 

He sits in the chair that’s become his purgatory, this plastic throne where he keeps vigil over a love that’s dissolving like sugar in rain. The doctors explained it with clinical precision, how your brain is betraying you, how the pathways that store your shared history are being systematically erased. But they couldn’t explain how it feels to watch the person you love disappear while your body remains, how it’s like being haunted by a ghost who’s still breathing. 

“The nurse mentioned you might be discharged soon,” he says, though the word ‘home’ has lost all meaning. How do you return to a place built on memories when only one person remembers building it?

“That’s good,” you reply with the same emotional investment you’d give a weather report. 

He closes his eyes and tries to conjure the weight of your hand in his, the way you used to absently play with his rings while you read. In his mind, he can still feel your heartbeat against his chest during those afternoons when you’d fall asleep listening to him play guitar. But when he opens his eyes, you’re studying him with the polite curiosity reserved for strangers, and the phantom warmth of your touch turns to ash. 

This is where he lives now, in the space between what was and what is, where love becomes an archaeology of one. He excavates memories like artifacts, your laugh echoing through empty rooms, your voice singing harmony to melodies you’ll never remember learning, how you’d wrinkle your nose when you were thinking hard about something. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks, because movement feels less catastrophic than sitting still, because maybe if he takes you to the places where you loved him, some cellular memory might surface like a miracle. 

“I suppose that would be nice.”

Nice.

 The word feels like an arrow piercing through his chest, each letter a small cruelty. You once told him ‘nice’ was the most devastating word, the graveyard of conversations, the word people used when they’d already mentally walked away. It was what you reached for when you had nothing meaningful to say. 

Now it’s all you have left for him. 

This bloodless little word, a gentle assassination right to his heart.

How nice.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The park spreads before you like a memory made manifest, winding paths and gentle slopes that once cradled your shared daily mornings. Dongmin walks beside you, hyper aware of the space between your bodies that feels like a chasm. You don’t reach for his hand, don’t lean into his shoulders, don’t do any of the unconscious things that once made him feel like he belonged in your orbit. 

Instead, you walk like you’re made of glass, careful and contained, while he remembers the way you used to skip ahead on these same paths, turning back to grin at him with dirt on your shoes and sunshine in your hair. The ghost of your former self haunts every step, and he can’t decide if the memories are a blessing or a curse. 

“This is peaceful,” you murmur, watching ducks glide across the pond’s surface with the same mild interest you’d show a nature documentary. 

“We used to come here,” he says, and his voice cracks on the past tense. “You’d bring breadcrumbs even though the signs said not to feed them.”

You consider this information like you’re filing it away in a drawer you’ll never open again. “Did we?”

“You said the ducks looked lonely.” He remembers the way you’d cup stale bread in your palms, how you’d make up elaborate backstories for each duck family and insist they recognised you from week to week. “You named them all. There was Minsu, and Haneul, and that little one you called Jjibbong because he was always causing trouble.”

For a moment, you’re quiet, and he holds his breath, waiting for some flicker of recognition. However, you just nod politely, the way you would if a stranger told you about their own pet names for animals. 

“I’m sorry,” you say suddenly, and the casual tone makes his chest collapse, “It must be difficult having someone forget your shared experiences.”

The clinical detachment in your voice is what destroys him. You’re talking about the death of your relationship like you’re discussing weather patterns, like the love that once lived between you is just another interesting fact about a stranger’s life.

“It’s not your fault,” he manages, though the words feel like glass in his throat.

“No,” you agree with devastating practicality. “But it’s still hard for you.”

He wants to tell you that “hard” doesn’t begin to cover it. That every morning he wakes up and remembers all over again that you’re gone while still being here. That he lies awake at night wondering if you dream about him, if some part of your subconscious still recognises the sound of his voice or the warmth of his presence. That he’s learned to grieve someone who isn’t dead, to mourn a relationship that ended not with fighting or betrayal but with the simple, devastating erosion of your ability to remember why you loved him. 

But he doesn’t say any of this. He just nods and keeps walking, carrying the weight of your shared history like stones in his pockets.

The bench where you had your first kiss sits empty beneath the oak tree, and he remembers how nervous he’d been, how you’d laughed at his fumbling attempts at romance before kissing him soft and sure. Now you walk past it without a glance, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be erased from existence while still being alive to witness it. 

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The bookstore feels like a mausoleum of your former self, all narrow aisles and dusty shelves that once witnessed your joy. Dongmin follows you through the poetry section, watching you browse with the detached interest of someone killing time. 

You pick up a volume of love poems, the same book you’d quoted on your third date, the one you’d read from while he played guitar in his tiny apartment, and flip through it like it’s written in a foreign language. 

“Do you like poetry?” he asks, and his voice sounds hollow even to his own ears.

“I think so,” you reply, which is not the same as the breathless “I love it” you used to whisper against his neck after reciting verses that made you cry. 

He remembers the evening you’d read him twenty love poems while rain drummed against the windows, how you’d been wearing his sweater and no makeup, your hair still damp from the shower. You’d looked so beautiful it had physically hurt to look at you, and he’d thought, this is what happiness feels like. This is what it means to be alive.

That night, he’d started writing your song, not a love song, but a melody that captured the cadence of your voice, the rhythm of your breathing, the way you hummed when you were content. It had taken him months to finish, and when he’d finally played it for you, you’d cried. 

Now you’re holding poetry in your hands like it’s a foreign object, and he wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. He wants to shake you until you remember, wants to play your song until it breaks through whatever walls your illness has built around your heart. But he knows that love doesn’t work that way, that memory can’t be formed or summoned or wished back into existence. 

“Would you like me to buy it for you?” he asks instead.

“That’s kind of you, but I shouldn’t accept gifts from strangers.”

Strangers. 

The word breaks his already shattered heart even more, and he has to grip the bookshelf to stay upright. Is that what you are now? Two people who happen to share the same space, connected by a history that only exists in his memory?

He buys the book anyway, along with a notebook that matches the colour of your eyes. At the counter, the elderly cashier smiles at him with the kind of pity reserved for the obviously heartbroken. 

“For your girlfriend?” she asks gently.

“Yes,” he says, though he’s not sure what you call someone who doesn’t remember loving you. What do you call the space between what was and what is? What do you call a relationship that exists only in the past tense?

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The coffee shop is a monument to your former life together, all exposed brick and mismatched chairs that once witnessed your beginning. The barista recognises him and starts making your usual order without being asked, muscle memory serving as a cruel reminder of routine now shattered. 

“Two large coffees,” she says with forced cheer. “One with oat milk and honey, one black. And a blueberry muffin to share.”

You look genuinely confused, and his heart fractures a little more. “How does she know what I want?”

“You come here often,” the barista explains, then catches sight of his face and her expression softens. “I mean, you used to, before…”

“Before I got sick,” you finish with matter-of-fact acceptance. “It’s alright. I understand I had a life before this.”

Had. Past tense. Like the person who used to sit in this exact chair and steal sips of his coffee while complaining it was too bitter is dead. Like the girl who used to trace patterns on the wooden table while humming under her breath exists only in his memory now. 

You sit across from him at the same table where you’d had your first actual conversation, where you’d told him about your dreams of travelling to places that inspired great literature. You’d been so animated that day, gesturing wildly with your hands, eyes bright with possibility. Now you sit with your hands folded in your laps, polite and distant as a stranger on a train.

“The coffee is good,” you say, and he wants to tell you that you once called it “liquid poetry,” that you used to close your eyes when you drank it like you were savouring a particularly beautiful line of verse. 

“You always ordered it the same way,” he says instead, and the words feel like grave dirt in his mouth. 

“Did I?” You take another sip, contemplative. “I can’t imagine having such specific preferences about anything.”

But you did. You do. You like your coffee sweet, your music loud and your books dog-eared from multiple readings. You hate the sound of people chewing but love the sound of rain on windows. You collect vintage postcards and press flowers between dictionary pages. You exist in a thousand tiny preferences and habits that make you uniquely, devastatingly yourself.

He wants to catalog them all, to rebuild you from the ground up using the blueprints stored in his memory. But he’s beginning to understand that love isn’t enough to restore what’s been lost, that memory can’t be transplanted like a heart or kidney. 

“Tell me about them?” you ask, and the request feels like being asked to perform an autopsy on his own happiness.

He tells you about your obsession with vintage postcards, how you’d spend hours in antique shops looking for ones with interesting stamps or faded ink. He tells you about your habit of humming while you cook, how you’d dance in his t-shirt when you thought no one was watching. He tells you about your theory that every song has a colour, how you’d describe his music in shades of blue and silver that made him understand his own art better. 

You listen with the concentrated attention of someone studying for an exam about their own life, occasionally nodding or asking clarifying questions. But there’s no spark of recognition, no moment where the fog lifts and you remember being the person he’s describing. 

“I sound like someone I’d want to know,” you say when he finishes, and the words feel like reading your own obituary while you’re still sitting right in front of him.  

“You are,” he whispers, though he’s not sure if that’s true anymore. Are you still yourself if you can’t remember being yourself? Are you still the person he fell in love with if you can’t recall falling in love with him? 

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The music store stands like a shrine to your beginning, vinyl records and hanging guitars that once witnessed the birth of everything beautiful in his life. This is where it started, where you’d been humming one of his melodies while browsing through albums where he’d been so shocked to hear his own composition coming from a stranger’s lips that he’d nearly knocked over an entire display. 

Now you walk through the aisles with the same mild interest you’d show in any store. He trails a step behind you, watching the way your fingers skim over the album covers, delicate and indifferent. 

“Do you play?” you ask, noticing him staring at the guitars with the intensity of someone trying to will the past back into existence. 

“A little,” he says, though music used to be the language you spoke together, the way you communicated when words weren’t enough. 

“Would you play something for me?”

The request catches him off guard, and he wonders if this is what hope feels like, fragile, desperate and probably doomed. He takes down an acoustic guitar, tests the tuning with fingers that remember your song even when his heart wants to forget it. 

He doesn’t play your melody, not yet, not when he’s not sure he could survive watching you fail to recognise it. Instead, he chooses a melody soft and melancholic, something that matches the ache in his chest and the way you’re looking at him with polite interest instead of the love that used to live behind your eyes. 

As he plays, he watches your face for any sign of recognition, any flicker of the person who used to close her eyes when he played. But you just listen with the same detached attention you’d give any street performer, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to perform a resurrection that refuses to take. 

When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment, and he holds his breath, waiting for a miracle that probably won’t come. 

“That was beautiful,” you say finally. “Sad, but beautiful.”

“Music can be both,” he replies, and thinks about how you used to say the same thing, back when your voice had more warmth than distance.

“Yes,” you agree, and for a moment, a kind of distant familiarity flashes across your face. “I think… I think I used to know that.”

It’s not much, but it’s enough to make his heart stutter with hope.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

On the drive back to the hospital, you hum quietly under your breath. It’s barely audible, just a few notes repeated continuously, but Dongmin recognises it immediately. It’s the melody from your song, the one he wrote for you, the one you used to sing while making breakfast on lazy mornings. 

He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, afraid that any sudden movement might break the spell. You’re humming unconsciously, your fingers tapping against your thigh in a rhythm that lives deeper than memory, and he wants to pull over and weep with relief. 

This is what he’s been waiting for, proof that some part of you still knows him, still carries the music you made together. It’s not the same as remembering, but it’s something. It’s a thread connecting who you were to who you are now, and he clings to it like a lifeline. 

When you arrive at the hospital, you turn to him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you for today. It was… nice.”

Nice.

There’s that word again, the one you used to say that was the most devastating. But he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever you can give. 

“Would you like me to visit again?” he asks, and hates how his voice sounds like he’s begging. 

You consider this with the same careful attention you’d given everything today. “I think I’d like that. You seem like someone worth knowing.”

Someone worth knowing. Not someone you know, not someone you love, but someone who might be worth the effort of getting to know. It’s a beginning, even if it’s not the beginning he wants. 

He walks you to your room, carrying the books he bought and the weight of everything you’ve forgotten. At your door, you pause, and he thinks you might be about to say goodbye, might be about to disappear behind the same polite distance you’ve maintained all day. 

But instead, you ask, “The song you played… do you know who wrote it?”

“I did,” he says, and his voice cracks on the admission. 

“It felt familiar,” you say quietly, and his heart stops. “It felt like I’d heard it before. Maybe in a dream, perhaps?”

“Maybe you had,” he whispers, because what else is there to say? How do you explain that you’ve heard it a thousand times, that it was written for you, that it exists because he needed a way to hold all the love he felt for you in three and a half minutes of melody. 

You nod, accepting this possibility with the same grace you’ve shown all day. “Goodnight, Dongmin.”

His name on your lips stops him cold. You’d said it so naturally, without thinking, like muscle memory kicked in for just a moment. It’s not much, just a word, just a moment of recognition that might mean nothing at all. But it’s enough to bring him back tomorrow, and the day after that, and all the days that follow.

He watches you disappear into your room, then stands in the hallway for a long time, holding onto the sound of his name in your voice. The hospital continues its nocturnal routine around him, nurses making rounds, machines beeping, the quiet shuffle of people trying to heal in a place that smells like antiseptic and fallen dreams. 

But he doesn’t move. He stands there remembering the way you used to say his name when you were sleepy. He remembers the morning you’d whispered it against his neck and told him you loved him for the first time, how the words had felt like a benediction.

Now it’s just a name spoken in politeness, but it’s still his name in your voice, and that has to be enough. 

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The train platform stretches before him like a pathway to nowhere, fluorescent lights and departure boards that announce destinations he’ll never reach with you. He chose the train over a taxi because he needs time to process the day, time to hold onto the sound of your voice saying his name, time to exist in the space between the hospital and home where he can still pretend this is all a nightmare he’ll wake up from. 

The late evening train is nearly empty, just a few scattered passengers lost in their own private worlds. He finds a seat by the window and watches the hospital grow smaller in the distance, its windows glowing like distant stars. He wonders which one is yours, if you’re looking out at the same sky he is, if you ever feel the echo of something missing. 

As the train pulls away, he thinks about how he’ll miss you here too, on every train ride, in every empty seat beside him, in the rhythm of wheels on tracks that sounds like the heartbeat you used to trace on his chest. He’ll miss you on trains the way he misses you everywhere else now, constantly, achingly, with the particular pain of loving someone who doesn’t remember being loved.

The city blurs past the window, and he pulls out his phone, calling your number knowing you won’t answer but needing to hear your voice on the voicemail greeting. It’s still the old message, recorded back when you knew who you were, when you could make jokes about having adventures and taking naps. 

“Hi, you’ve reached me, but I’m probably off having adventures or taking a nap, both equally likely. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I surface from whatever I’m doing. Love you!”

Love you. Present tense, even though you recorded it months ago. Even though the person who spoke those words exists now only in his memory and in the echo of a hummed melody that surfaced like a miracle today. 

The train carries him through neighbourhoods that hold a thousand memories, each familiar landmark visible through the window like a monument to what’s been lost. The restaurant where you had your first date, the park where he told you he loved you, the apartment building where you’d lived together for eight months before the symptoms started. Each place feels like a grace marker for a different version of your love story, and he watches them pass like scenes from a movie he can never watch again. 

There was something about you that he can’t quite capture in words now, some ineffable quality that made his heart surrender completely, that made him believe in forever in a way he’d never believed in anything. He knows it was there, this magnetic pull that drew him to you like gravity, but the more he tries to define it,  the more it slips like water through his fingers. All he has left are the effects, the way his pulse would quicken when you walked into a room, the way his chest would tighten when you smiled, the way he’d known from the first conversation that you were going to change his life. 

A woman across the aisle is reading a book, and it reminds him of you, not because you looked like her, but because of the way she holds the pages, how she turns them with careful attention. Everything reminds him of you now. The morning light through train windows, the sound of coffee brewing, the way strangers hum under their breath without realising it. You’ve become the lens through he sees the world, and he doesn’t know how to look at anything without seeing your absence. 

He’ll miss you in the morning when he wakes up and remembers all over again. He’ll miss you in every cup of coffee he makes, every song he hears, every sunset that would have made you stop and stare. He’ll miss you in conversations he’ll never have, in places he’ll never take you, in the future that was supposed to belong to both of you. 

The train rocks gently as it moves through the city, and he closes his eyes, trying to remember the exact sound of your laugh, the precise way you’d wrinkle your nose when you were thinking. But the details are already starting to fade, worn smooth by repetition like stones in a river. He’s terrified that one day he’ll wake up and not be able to remember the exact shade of your eyes, the specific cadence of your voice, the way you’d sing harmony to songs you’d never heard before. 

This is what he never expected about grief, how it’s not just about losing someone, but about losing the person you were when you were with them. He’s not just mourning you, he’s mourning the version of himself that knew how to make you laugh, the man who could calm your anxiety with a song, the person who belonged to someone completely. 

At home, he sits at his piano and plays your song from beginning to end, filling the empty spaces with harmonies you’ll never hear again, with lyrics you’ll never remember learning. He plays it anyway, because this is how he loves you now, quietly and persistently, without expectation of return. 

The melody drifts through the empty apartment, carrying all the weight of what endures when everything else fades. It’s the song of someone who remembers for two, who believes that some things are worth preserving even when you’re the only one doing the preserving. 

Tomorrow he’ll visit again. He’ll bring flowers and tell you stories about the person you used to be. He’ll hope for small moments of recognition and accept their absence with grace. He’ll love you in whatever form you take, for however long you’re here. 

The music fills the darkness. For a moment, he can live in the space where love transcends memory, where the heart remembers what the mind forgets.

It’s enough. It has to be enough.

For now, it’s everything.

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @s0shroe @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @mydeepestsecrects @brownetry @pumpkg @heeheesang @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @beomev @woonhakntaesansgf

[eddiegirls]

sorry not to be mean for no reason but i saw a few people headcanoning that tommy is "a film buff" and their evidence is that he's mentioned the following 4 movies: star wars, fight club, twilight, love actually. quite literally 4 of the most popular movies ever on the history of the earth.

[scarlettfevor]

Decided to start watching teen wolf because why not, and I'm literally only 3 episodes in and I already suspect that Scott is probably going to be my favorite, and I know that there's a thriving shipping scene for this show so I took a quick peak at the top ships on ao3 and it......Derek and Stilies...? I think that once I get over his kinda cringey early 2010's humor I could grow to like Stilies, but Derek? To me he just seems like every other sad bad boy in every twilight/Buffy-inspired teen show from the 2000's - 2010's, there is 0 chance I'll actually like him, so it's no surprise really that he seems to be fairly popular.

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer needs your help examining a crucial piece of evidence...but the moment he sees you, his mind goes blah blah blah...proper name, place name, backstory stuff...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist! female reader, same reader as in pick your poison but you don’t need to read that first—there aren’t any major references, suggestion that the reader engages in casual hook ups, reader has a belly button piercing and a described outfit, spencer's pov only

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling it was slowly gathering dust in my inbox 😭 sorry!

"I think the threshold of my lab isn't exactly the best place for camping."

A woman's silhouette cast a shadow over Spencer as she appeared right above him in the dimly lit hallway.

Spencer sighed in frustration and hauled himself to his feet. As he brushed off his pants, he kept his eyes off the woman in front of him.

"Well, I didn't think you'd make me wait fifty-eight—"

"Oh, just say the hour. Is rounding numbers really that hard for you?" she scoffed, her voice carrying a trace of genuine curiosity. She swiped her access card, unlocking the door to the lab. With her back turned to him, he took in her appearance—an oversized fur coat draped over her shoulders, a designer handbag hanging from one arm. His gaze drifted downward, and to his surprise, he noticed…pajama pants and slippers?

"You should be grateful I even bothered to show up at this hour," she added.

"This is really important," Spencer replied as she led him inside.

She moved through the space with effortless familiarity, heading straight for the light switch. Well, this was her domain, after all—the place where she spent most of her days.

"I don't care," she replied. "Unless you've found proof that Marilyn Monroe was the Zodiac Killer all along—then, well, I care a little. Honestly, you have no idea how much you owe me for showing up..."

He rolled his eyes.

"Should I be thanking you on my knees, or...?"

"I could have been busy. I could have been out with the girls at a club. I could have been having the night of my life..."

"I get it, you made a huge sacrifice answering my request, but can you now—"

"I could have been in bed already. My own. Or not my own," she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Though in that case, I wouldn’t have picked up."

Spencer simply sighed. By now, he was used to it—the way most of their conversations followed the same pattern. How she always set the pace, steering the direction as she pleased. How she sometimes deliberately ignored his words and didn’t care if it made her seem rude. How, in general, she didn’t care what impression she left on others.

He had witnessed it countless times, found it irritating every single time, and yet—every single time—he kept the conversation going. Funny.

She switched on only one of the lights, leaving the room bathed in a soft twilight. Her handbag landed on the long counter beside one of the microscopes, and she tossed her fur coat next to it, completely unconcerned about knocking something over.

Sometimes, he watched her with quiet fascination—the effortless confidence in her movements—and wondered if she had ever, even once, smacked her hip against a doorframe. Or stubbed her toe on a cabinet. Those small, mundane humiliations and everyday mishaps simply didn’t seem to fit with who she was.

He tightened his grip on the plastic bag he had brought with him, the one containing something that needed to be examined. The team didn’t know about it yet.

The thought, the theory, had quite literally yanked him out of sleep. He couldn’t function without checking this lead immediately. But he knew that if he went through the lab, he’d have to wait until morning for the results…so he decided to ask for a friendly favor.

Okay friendly was a big word.

They had known each other for a few months, worked together on several cases, gone on a date, slept together.

Not necessarily in that order.

He was just about to open his mouth, say something, hand her the bag… when, for the first time, he actually saw her in better light than the dim glow—or rather, lack of it—in the hallway. Against his own will, his gaze started its journey over her.

From the slippers on her feet, up the loose pajama pants that ended just below the piercing in her navel, the black camisole with thin straps, to her face—completely free of makeup.

Until now, he had only seen her in two versions. One was her usual, elegant work attire. The other was her evening look—form-fitting, designed to turn heads and keep them there.

On second thought, there was also a third version. Without clothes.

But he had never seen her like this. Casual, comfortable, dressed for nothing more than wandering the walls of her own apartment.

She lifted her arms to tie her hair into a ponytail, and her shirt rode up slightly.

“If my piercing fascinates you that much, I can give you my piercer’s number,” she offered dryly, a fleeting smirk on her lips as she caught his stare. He immediately snapped his gaze back to her face, cursing internally when he realized he probably looked like he had been caught staring. Which, of course, he hadn’t been. “Excellent work. Full professionalism. Experienced hands…”

"I need you to check this stain," he interrupted, raising the bag.

They had been talking too much, and he really needed to know if his suspicions were correct.

She stepped closer to take the bag from him.

“Is this a crucial piece of evidence, or can I touch it?”

“You can touch it…”

She stopped just a step away, shifting her weight onto one hip and tilting her head to get a better look.Spencer instinctively straightened, feeling a strange tension along his spine.Earlier, he had been looking at what she was wearing. Now, what caught his attention was how she looked.

There’s a certain kind of beauty you never quite get used to, no matter how often you see it. The kind that, every time, knocks the air from your lungs for just a second—that fleeting disbelief that someone like this actually walks the earth.

She had it. She radiated it.

And she was just a step away.

She took the garment out of the bag. It was a red turtleneck sweater. She lifted it higher toward the light, furrowing her brow as she examined the stain.

Spencer’s gaze fell on her beautiful face, her eyes shimmering slightly, her lower lip slightly pursed in thought.

Suddenly, she scoffed, snapping him back to reality.

"Mystery solved, and I didn’t even need a microscope," she said, shoving the sweater back into his hands. As he took it, his fingers brushed against hers, catching him slightly off guard. "It’s foundation. I’d recognize that stain anywhere. So, hooray, happy to help, no need to put me in the case report, have a good night, and see you—"

He grabbed her wrist before she could step away, stopping her in place.

"This isn’t a joke," he said, his voice dropping, tinged with sudden irritation.She raised an eyebrow at both his tone and the way he—unintentionally—closed the distance between them. As usual, she looked him straight in the eyes, and as usual, it was hard not to be drawn in. But he tried, because this case was really consuming his thoughts. "Listen, I called you because I need someone to actually test it. Not just glance at it. It'll only take a moment, and then you can go back to crawling into bed with whoever you want. Can you do that?"

The second-to-last sentence made her expression shift slightly.

For a moment, they stood there, unwavering, eyes locked without so much as a blink. Then, the corners of her lips tugged upward—just barely. But it felt more like a forced gesture, an attempt to maintain her carefully practiced expression, rather than a sign of genuine amusement.

"Alright," she replied softly. Not to be mistaken for shyly. There was nothing shy about her, a fact he was reminded of constantly.

"I’ll test it, since it matters so much to you. And then I’m going back to bed." A slow blink before she yanked the sweater from his hands. "With whoever I want."

Why did swallowing suddenly stop being an automatic reflex and turn into something he had to consciously work through?

"That’s great," he said shortly, dryly. He could feel himself slipping into the trap again, letting her toy with him. "Have fun."

"I will."

With that simple assurance, she walked away, and the very particles of air around him seemed to loosen, finally allowing him to breathe again. He turned after her instinctively, the way a swivel chair spins when someone sets it in motion.

She crossed the lab table and leaned over an empty workstation—empty, like all the others. The entire width of the counter separated them now, along with the return of cool detachment to her face. Slowly, Spencer rested his hands on the smooth surface, watching as she got to work. Watching as her hair bounced slightly with the shift in position. Watching as her jaw tensed in concentration. Watching as she leaned over the workstation slightly.

"So," she began flatly, not pausing her work or even looking at him.

Spencer gave his head a small shake, realizing that this time, he really had been staring. At least she hadn’t seen it.

"What exactly am I testing?"

His gaze drifted to her again.

"Something related to the case."

"Wow, I never would've guessed."

He was too distracted to mentally slap himself for how pathetic he was. 

"Uh, it’s not exactly groundbreaking," he began.

He could focus—he just had to try hard enough. He just had to clear the lingering trace of her scent from when she’d stood so close. Had to shake off the echo of her words. With whoever I want, she had said. The more he thought about it, the more accurate it seemed. He firmly believed she could have whoever she wanted. With that confidence. With that face. With that body…

"That’s why I’m checking it after hours. Just, you know…backstory stuff…"

A sound escaped her lips—somewhere between a scoff of disbelief and a startled laugh. She looked at him—no, she pinned him with her gaze.

"Backstory stuff?" she repeated, her lips curling into a smile. Not even a mocking one anymore. She was genuinely amused. "Did you, Doctor Spencer Reid, when asked what the evidence pertains to, actually respond with backstory stuff…?"

“No, I…I mean…”

“Oh God, it’s a good thing they don’t put you in front of cameras. Imagine you, at a press conference. Just casually dropping backstory stuff on national television…”

“I can handle myself in front of cameras,” he clarified, feeling an odd warmth creep up the back of his neck. “But there aren’t any here. And besides, I didn’t realize you wanted me to recite the entire case file from memory…”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with another amused snort. “Backstory stuff is actually a surprisingly accurate term. You know, very professional.”

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation, though what he really felt was more akin to embarrassment.

“Speaking of professionalism, maybe you could get back to work?” he suggested.

“I don’t have to,” she replied, flashing him a sweet smile. “I already checked everything. And I was wrong. It’s not foundation—it’s nitroglycerin.”

Spencer’s jaw practically hit the floor.

For the first time since stepping into the lab, his mind was running at full capacity.

"Nitroglycerin? Are you sure?"

"Well, I don’t get these things wrong," she said, almost offended.

"Nitroglycerin," he repeated in a whisper.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, everything made sense.

She leaned her elbows on the table, watching him with interest.

He wanted to kiss her.

No—he did not—

"Thank you," he blurted out, her words becoming background noise as his thoughts raced. "Thank you for coming. This…this really helps. I have to tell the team—"

He turned toward the door, dazed by the realization.

Something stopped him.

"Spencer," she called gently.

She didn’t seem angry that he was leaving so abruptly. If anything, there was a certain soft glint in her eyes, a quiet fascination with his sudden revelation. Standing in the doorway, he looked at her one last time, feeling himself freeze in place again. He said nothing, sensing that she wanted to say something instead.

She tilted her head slightly.

"You owe me a favor," she said.

There was something about the way she said it—something that sent a slow, deliberate shiver down his spine. Not even a shiver. More like a careful march of cold fingertips down his vertebrae.

So, naturally, he did what any grown man with an IQ of 187 would do.

He parted his lips slightly and nodded.

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 kiss me beneath the milky twilight ! | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; your first kiss with amphoreus men :)

love mail — short ? ish ? i'm rly like 5050 on it idk whats short anymkre ( ﾟ□ﾟ) hiiii guys ! :D im rly curious which hsr character reminds u of me (totally stolen from airi) LOL this was kind of fun i love intimacy its cute (；^ω^)

anaxa is a bit of a romantic at heart, even if the cold glares and scary aura act as if otherwise. he doesn't know why people want to explain it, he loves you. why would he be cruel if his heart only beats for you? common sense, he thinks.

and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating as you lay on top of him, under the stars and anaxa's back on the grass, stargazing in the silence of the night. words aren't exchanged because you two have come to realize that not every silence needs to be filled, just appreciated. it isn't every day that the world is quiet enough to hear anaxa's soft breaths, some sort of proof he's real. that he's still alive to enjoy this moment. and he can't be more thankful to the gods he doesn't believe in for the kindness he's always cursed them for never having.

"dove?" he calls to you, bringing his hand to your cheek and bringing you up closer to his face. "yes, anaxagoras?" cursed heart, fluttering at the little giggle that comes with you saying his name. you say it so.. fondly, no one could ever compare.

the night has been perfect, your existence has consumed his every thought, and it's made him think about only one thing; "i need to kiss them."

enough time has passed, right? it's been a couple of months, he feels confident, but also hoping that the ground under him would swallow him whole.

all he needs is an indication you also want this, that you've been yearning for his lips the way he's dreamed about yours every night. (pleasedon'tthinkhe'sweird)

while stuck in his train of thought, he's realizing now that he's just been staring at you. smiling all sweetly— which makes this worst—cause you look so pure while his thoughts are far from innocent.

"would.. it be too crude to.. tell you that i want you? that.." you need to stop looking at him like that, with those eyes that capture his attention every time. "that i want you.. to kiss me. kiss me till i grow sick from the taste of you."

and you do, pressing your lips against his as he can only smirk. his request was a trick hypothetical, he'll never want to stop. he's obsessed, you have to deal with him now.

mydei was celebrating your fourth month together, yes he's the type of guy to celebrate monthly anniversaries... sue him for being in love... but yes. four months isn't a lot of time but phainon's been asking about first kisses, which has YET to happen but there's really no rush. he doesn't wanna force anything you're not yet ready for, putting into consideration it's something so big. the first kiss has to be special, which is why he's in the process of making you an entire full course meal of your favorite dishes. all while you sit and look gorgeous by the counter, watching him like he's doing the most attractive thing a man can do. all while in a soft pink apron and his hair tied up since he thinks it gets into the food sometimes which is his worst fear.

what was he thinking again? right... right! not burning his hand. completely lost his train of thought after you complimented how nice he looked at this very moment. he could swear you had a certain look in your eyes, hungry for something entirely unrelated to food. may the aeon's forsake his heart for having it stutter like this. but also don't make it stop, he loves it, a bit too much.

when dinner is served, mydei is sure to tend to your every need. want more salt? he's up to get the shaker. water? refilled the pitcher to the very top as well as your glass. "mydei, i'll just get some tissue from the kitche—" he's already up, and you wanna beat him to it, but he's already stopping your path with the biggest smile. "sweetheart, why are you standing?" he chuckles, and you fake a little pout. "i wanna get it on my own. don't wanna have you do everything."

"if i'm not doing everything for you, i'm not doing things right." he counters while his hands travel to your waist, humming a little murmur of your name. "so perfect. just sit, i'll get them for you."

matching his advances, your arms quietly move to his shoulders, leaning into him as you usually do. "come on, let me do at least one thing for you."

this is starting to sound like it's not just about tissues. "please, just.. one thing."

are you supposed to be leaning into each others lips when you're asking for tissues? probably not. but mydei doesn't want to let this moment slip, he sees your slight hesitation, which if it was up to him he would've totally just kissed that doubt out of you. but he needs to hear the verbal confirmation. a reassurance that he's doing this right. "there are possibilities wherein this moment passes me without ever knowing what your lips feel against mine. please, please indulge in me for just a moment."

it lasted far longer than a moment. <3

phainon is a bit too much for a flirt to not get to the closest thing to a first kiss. cheek kisses is his favorite form of affection at the moment.. gets him all weak in the knees. he loves seeing you lean in for one and he just asks for another one till he's satisfied. greedy, yes. does he care? not really.

in a flowerfield of just the two of you and the prettiest floral scenery, it's a shot straight out of a movie. you're sat next to phainon, putting little flowers in his hair as he gets to admire you, a perfectly fair trade. you get to love the flowers, he gets to love you. all he ever needs to be honest.

"how did i ever get so lucky?" he sighs dramatically, pulling you closer by the waist as you snicker at his theatrics. "your soul is as beautiful as this field. i'm telling you, angel. if you stay any longer then the aeon's might try to take you away from me." his words have never failed to make you feel valued, and it's but a fraction of how he truly feels about you. he knows he will never be able to put everything into mere words, you deserve so much more than just that.

"phai, please. any sweeter and bees will start to use you for honey." and there it is, one of the many things phainon adores about you. just.. effortlessly matching him. his humor, aesthetics, lifestyle, passion.. all those things, you've perfectly matched his own. "i can take a few stings."

because it felt right, he kisses your cheek a couple of times, making you giggle and jokingly try to push him away, even if your strength is basically at zero and almost pulling him closer.

when he's finished, the blue haired hero points at his lips and smirks. "wanna return the favor, baby? right here is perfect."

it isn't the first time he's made this joke, and it probably won't be the last, but for once you feel.. ready. like it's right.

so when you close the gap between your lips and his, phainon absolutely malfunctions for a second. before locking in and kissing you with gentle fervor, one hand barely on your cheek because he wants to reassure you that you're free to pull away.

and when you don't, he's on cloud 9 the whole time. takes you into his arms and you both fall into the flowers, not breaking the kiss for a moment as laughter and lips crashing against one another fill the air.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[borkthemork]

So, I need to tell you guys what has been happening today. For context, back in January 16, my friend group jokingly made a promise to one of our friends (let's call them H) that we will get them the Lego Cullen House set. Like the minifigs, the wolf, the car, everything.

Here's the thing though: my friend fucking hates Twilight, like they read the books but they still don't like the series at all. So for the giggles we decided to make a promise that we would send H the Lego set on their birthday. However, the idea didn't come to fruition.

Or so we thought.

The box came in months, several months before their birthday, and everyone was confused and baffled. No one knew who sent the package. No one said anything about sending it out legitimately. There was a conversation about it today but it got shut down due to H not knowing if they have room for it.

However, stick with me, this person didn't just send H a Lego set, no.

They also sent a separate package that had a letter from Edward Cullen wanting to fuck their husband, and a framed PNG of a signed Edward Cullen autograph.

And you may be thinking "Bork, what if they just look at the sender address to find who sent it?" well the thing is that the sender was Edward Cullen. WE DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS. THEY PRE-PLANNED THIS DAYS, WEEKS, OR EVEN MONTHS FOR THIS. AND NO ONE HAS FESSED UP.

I need to emphasize that we had no clue this would happen. This came out of nowhere, at a time where all of us thought it wouldn't actually happen, and then the UPS guy came and like changed the game. We have been accusing each other of who sent this for hours!

The wax seal is real. The legos are real. Someone wrote in cursive to have Edward tell H's husband that he wants him, that is real. The frame is on their wall right now as we speak.

We still don't know who it was.

Transcript of Letter for Anyone Interested:

[H], How have you been, dear friend? I, myself have been aching to get away from the loomy atmosphere of Forks and pay Italy a visit, which I may do very soon… However, there is a delicate matter that I wanted to discuss with you and I trust that our friendship will bear the weight of what I am about to ask… As you know, I have always admired your impeccable taste. In music, literature, humor, and well… who you've married. I have to admit that [H's Husband] is quite… compelling, to say the least. I watch the way he is with you and I hear his thoughts. And all the things he enjoys doing to you has piqued my interest and I can't help but want to experience him the way you do. Now I would never presume to cross a line, but should you find yourself feeling particularly generous, I wonder if you might consider lending him? Just for a single night… Casually… If not, I mean no offense… But just think about it… Yours always, Edward

[eternityofend]

BOOTHILL HEADCANONS

> Reminder that this is not canon/accurate to his personality (this is before Boothill gets released.)

+ contains nsfw (Is labeled)

( Art credit: @ Luvmybabygirl0 )

SFW

I'd like to imagine, that this man just does a hair flip every time he's offended at what you said.

Ex.

"My Love, I know you're jealous but it's just a cat.."

Boothill looks at you for five solid seconds, and then hair flips to let you know he's really offended. "Tell the cat to move then, that's my place."

Does not skip leg day, would probably kabedon you using his LEG or if he does work out he'd probably want to use you as weight, like letting you sit on him while he does push-ups.

Loves going on little trips with you using horses, if you don't have your own horse he'd definitely let you ride his horse but you're in front of him.

Bonus points if you're shorter than him cause he'd put his chin on top of your head while his hands go around your waist to grab the rein.

Would flex to everyone about you, like- he's in a fight with someone? "You weak cutie(bitch), my lover hits harder than you."

Would call you petnames like "Sugar", "Honey", "Darling" , "Babe/Baby" , "Sweetheart" , "Love" , "Love bug" , "Sunshine" , "Pretty (boy/girl/thing)"

Listens to Lady Gaga, I'm sure of this, he would so rock it out on the dance floor and get you to dance with him.

Has eaten a bullet in front of you and was incredibly confused at your reaction that was just like 😰, until you tell him that you were surprised he ate a bullet he'd just be like 🤨 but if you did tell him straight away, he'd cackle at you.

Sometimes forgets he was originally a human so he does the craziest things knowing he can get fixed up anyway (he once jumped off a 13 foot building to chase after an enemy)

Loves to cuddle you, he wants to feel your warmth while he sleeps or relaxes.

Lets you braid his hair or comb it if you want to, once he gets used to you combing or braiding his hair he'd just walk up to you at random times with a brush in hand and let you do what you want with his hair.

Really reckless and causes a lot of trouble sometimes but there are days where he's really calm and all he wants to do is spend time with you, like he just acts like a cute little kitten who just woke up when he's calm.

If JoJo existed in their world, he would be a big fan of it.

Would let you name his gun or horse, does not complain at all even if you name it "princess twilight sparkle cookie crumble" he'd just laugh, completely accepting the name.

Even says the name during fights, he'd say "Your time's out, time to die by my princess twilight sparkle cookie crumble." 😭😭

Looks at his reflection in the mirror a lot while practicing poses, even getting you to watch from the bed or couch while showing you a new pose he likes.

Kisses you a lot, even in public he's really affectionate and touchy, cause no way is he letting other people look at you and think you're single.

You're hot and he knows you're hot so he's trying his best to make everyone know you're already taken.

If someone TRIES to flirt with you in front of him, he's already got you by the waist, against the wall, making out while he flips off the one who tried to flirt with you.

Would let you pick his earrings, always excited when you say you bought a new earring for him.

Looks good in an apron, like, really good. Househusband material frfr.

Plays with your hair a lot, twirling it, and even kissing some strands while he looks at you in the eye.

Easy to get flustered but it always leads to him making you more flustered, he takes everything like a challenge but he does love it every time you sass him back or flirt with him.

Causes a lot of trouble for you and with you, if its for you it's going to be super romantic however it'll make some people irritated, but if he's causing trouble with you, its more chaotic and a LOT of people will 100% get pissed.

Cannot sleep without you in his arms, he'll walk over to your room (if you guys aren't sharing one), hair all messy from tossing and turning because you weren't in bed with him. He'll just plop into your bed, it doesn't matter if you're even awake or not he just wants to hold you while he sleeps.

NSFW

Definitely takes off his hat and puts it on you BUT only when he's letting you ride, if you're having normal sex he'd probably just keep it on or let you bite on it while he fucks you from behind.

Probably says something weird during sex which I would love to imagine would just be "Yeehaw" because he can't curse.

Probably into roleplay where you're a criminal and he's a cowboy who successfully hunted you down or the opposite, has a bunch of handcuffs just to use it for roleplay.

I feel like he'd just be the type of person to use sex toys, not dildos though cause he wants to be the only dick inside you, something like collars, leashes, handcuffs, whips, ropes,

He'd be into gags, bondage, dirty talk, lactation, blindfold sex, spit, both praise and degrading kink, spanking, anal, lap-dances, fingering (he'd be conflicted about receiving), oral (receiving and giving), sensory deprivation, and gun play!

If he doesn't have a dick, he'll probably have a bunch of straps, he's good at giving oral but would still prefer fucking you with a dick than fingering or eating you out. (Unless he's the one getting fucked)

I feel like he's a switch but more on the dominant side, he's super open to submission as long as his partner can pleasure him real good.

This man walks around technically naked all the time, so he's got to have imagined having public sex here and there, but most likely in bars where everyone's busy and doing their own thing. Like it'd turn him on if you were just on his lap humping his erection while you both are in a bar but everyone else is just too drunk to notice at all.

Super vocal, grunting, moaning, sometimes even whining and whimpering, you got it all, bonus points because he does it all straight into your ear.

Uses his sharp teeth to mark you all over your body and then sucks on it to leave hickeys, would likely be a little menace and leave his marks somewhere visible even if you're wearing clothes so people would know your his

Wants you to pull on his hair while fucking, he wants to be able to know how good he's making you feel and hair pulling would be his goal to make sure you're getting actual pleasure.

When he kisses you or makes out with you, it'd always involve tongue, has a little hand that sneaks over to your waist stopping at your hip or your ass.

Slaps your ass loud, especially in public, he just smacks it while you're in mid-conversation and the sound just ECHOES, it doesn't hurt it just sounds like it does, he just stands there smirking while you stare at him.

He's an ass guy, boobs are nice to him cause he can suck on the nipples but definitely an ass guy, you cannot tell me he doesn't fuck you from behind solely to see your ass jiggle with every thrust he does.

Flat? Nuh uh, he's making that shit bounce no matter what.

Likes playing with you using his gun, frequently flicks the handle of his gun over your nipples or dick/pussy, sometimes he shoves a little bit of his gun in and if you get your cum on the muzzle, he'd lick it right in front of you.

Likes praising you and getting degraded, is into getting whipped too, he secretly wants to be on his knees begging for you, worshipping you, while you're standing over him with a whip in your hands. (The whip doesn't actually do any damage)

Does not care what gender you are, sometimes he'd misgender you on purpose and call your ass a pussy or if you're a girl, he'd probably call you "pretty boy" just to get you riled up.

His favorite positions when bottoming would be cowgirl, and his favorite position if he's on top would be Doggystyle.

(Edit: I just realized how much of a power bottom he is, but it's up to you, the reader whether you want to fuck him or be fucked by him 😇)

Please do remember everything is just a headcanon and is not actually linked or accurate to what Boothill's like in canon.

( Art credit

1st: Kradebii on Danbooru

2nd: Tei (@2hwe1) on twt

3rd: 2월14일 (Valentine_DD_) on twt )

Please tell me if I got the artists wrong!

[thewulf]

Trust in the Tide || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request -Hello!! I loved your forever yours fic!! I was wondering if you could write another Paul Lahote fic where Bella goes to the cullens house and drags her sister Y/N along with. Paul isnt happy about this at all and gets very possessive of Y/N.

A/N: Okay this one is cheeeeeesy but really sweet :)

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Swan Sister Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

TW: Possessiveness, general twilight warnings

On an unusually warm afternoon, with the sun painting the waves in hues of amber and gold, you find yourself lounging on the sands of La Push beach. Beside you, Paul's presence is as comforting as the steady rhythm of the surf. Though known among his peers for his fierce temper and unyielding nature with you he's a different person—gentle, attentive, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

You've been together for a year now ever since the day he imprinted on you. A single moment that forever changed the course of both your lives. In this year your relationship has blossomed into a deep and passionate connection with you often playing the role of his anchor, the calm in his storm.

As you sit there watching the gulls dance above the waves Paul's hand finds yours, his fingers lacing with yours in a familiar, comforting grip. His other hand brushes away a stray lock of hair from your face tucking it gently behind your ear. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmurs. His voice low and warm carrying over the sound of the waves.

You nod while leaning into his side, feeling the solid strength of him. "It's perfect," you agree, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the simple joy of being here with him away from the complexities of your intertwined worlds.

Paul's gaze is fixed on the horizon, but you know his thoughts are never far from you. In these quiet, unguarded moments you see a side of him that no one else does. You see the vulnerability hidden behind the façade of the tough werewolf. It's a side he only shows to you. It makes your heart swell with a mix of affection and pride.

"Thanks for being here, you know," he says suddenly before turning to look at you with intense, sincere eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Your heart flutters at his words. A gentle reminder of the bond you share. "I'll always be here, Paul," you assure him by squeezing his hand. "No matter what."

In these moments with the salty breeze tangling your hair and the sound of Paul's steady heartbeat under your ear you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Here, with him, you are home.

But your peaceful afternoon is abruptly shattered when Bella, her brow creased with worry but with a knowing smirk on her face, approaches the two of you on the beach. The sight of her alone is enough to tighten Paul's grip around your waist. His body tensing as if bracing for a storm.

"Whenever you aren't with Charlie, you're always here," Bella comments lightly. Trying to ease the tension with a touch of humor as she nods towards the two of you entwined on the sand.

You can't help but smile even as the worry in Bella's eyes belies her playful tone. "Can you blame me?" you reply with gesturing to the serene beach and then to Paul whose presence is a comforting constant in your life.

Paul attempted to lighten the mood despite the tension. He throws a quizzical glance at Bella. "What brings the vampire girl back down to La Push?" he jokes. Trying to elicit a smile but his voice betrays a hint of his underlying concern.

Bella's expression turns serious again as she ignores Paul’s attempt at humor. "It's Alice," she begins. Her voice dropping to a more urgent whisper. "She had a vision... and it involves you, Y/N. It's not clear, but it's serious enough that we think you should come to the house and talk about it."

Instantly, Paul's embrace tightens. His protective instincts flaring up. "No," he says flatly, his voice laced with a protectiveness that borders on aggression. "She’s not going anywhere near those bloodsuckers."

You squeeze his hand trying to calm the storm you see brewing in his eyes. "Paul, if it's about me… I need to know. I need to understand what's happening," you reason. Your voice a soothing counterpoint to his growling tone.

Bella looks between the two of you, her worry deepening. "It’s not clear what it means yet, but Alice saw a conflict... something that might escalate without your intervention. We think Y/N might be a key to preventing it."

Paul’s body is rigid with conflict. The thought of you walking into what he views as the lion’s den. A place where every instinct tells him you could be in danger, is tearing him apart inside. "You don't understand, Bella. I can’t just let her walk into a potential trap," he argues with his voice strained.

You look up at him. Your heart is aching at the pain and fear etched in his features. "Paul, I need to do this. Not just for me but for all of us. If there’s even a chance that my being there could help prevent a bigger conflict, we have to take it." Your voice is firm. Carrying the weight of your resolve. "I’ll be okay. I went to school with them, remember? They'd never harm a hair on my head."

Seeing the agony in his eyes you reach up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise Pau, I'll come home right to you. Just wait for me, okay?"

Paul's face is a mask of conflict. He’s torn between his fierce instinct to protect and his deep trust in you. "It's not you I don't trust, you know that," he says, his voice tense. "It's them. It's walking you right into their world... without me even being able to be there to protect you."

You nod understanding his fear. "Paul, I'm Bella's sister," you remind him gently by playing to his more rational side. "They've known me almost as long as they've known her. They'd never hurt me. And this could help everyone. The pack even. Your brothers and sister. It could prevent a bigger conflict. Isn't that worth it?"

He looks out towards the sea, his jaw clenching as he processes your words. "And I can't even escort you there..." he mutters with frustration lacing every word.

With pleading eyes, you look back at him. "I need you to trust me on this," you say softly. "Trust that I'll be okay."

Paul stares into your eyes searching for something that might make this easier. Finally, with a guttural sigh, his resistance crumbles. "Alright," he murmurs. His voice rough with suppressed emotion. "But I’m holding you to that promise. You come straight back to me. Please." He adds with a soft smile.

You grin while squeezing his hand tightly ever so grateful for his trust and understanding. "I will, Paul. I promise." Sensing the weight of the moment you step closer to him before wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a lingering, tender kiss to his lips. A promise of your return sealed with the sweetness of your affection.

As you pull away your eyes lock with his communicating a depth of love and reassurance. "Wait for me," you whisper. It’s a soft plea mixed with a firm promise. He agrees. His expression a mix of resolve and vulnerability. The hard lines of his face softening at your touch.

With one last look you turn and follow Bella to her truck feeling the weight of Paul's gaze on you like a protective cloak. As you climb into the passenger seat and the truck pulls away his figure remains etched against the horizon. A silent sentinel watching over the path you'll return by.

As the truck bumps along the familiar forested road leading to the Cullen house Bella steals a few glances your way her earlier worry momentarily replaced by a hint of curiosity. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable but it's filled with the unspoken acknowledgment of the distance that has grown between you two. Yet, today, as the trees blur past there’s a tentative bridge being built in those stolen glances.

“You seem really happy, Y/N,” Bella finally says. The words careful but genuine. She adjusts her grip on the steering wheel focusing on the winding road but clearly intent on your response.

Your heart swells at the mention and you can't help but nod enthusiastically. “I am, Bella. Paul... he’s been amazing,” you reply. Your voice tinged with undeniable joy. “He’s so kind to me, you know? In ways that people don’t always see.”

Bella smiles, a soft, understanding smile that reaches her eyes. “I can tell. He looks at you like... like you’re his whole world.” Her tone is reflective, possibly recalling her own complex relationships. “It’s really nice seeing you so taken care of. Makes me feel less worried about dragging you into our... mess today.”

The road smooths out as you approach the Cullen’s long driveway and you let out a small, contented sigh. “Thanks, Bella. I know it’s a lot, with everything going on. But being with Paul, it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be.” You turn to her with a bright grin spreading across your face. “And don’t worry about today. We’ll handle it just like we handle everything else.”

Bella nods, her expression mixing relief with a bit of admiration. “I’m glad, Y/N. And I’m glad he’s good to you. We all need that… someone who makes us feel like coming home.”

The conversation lulls as the imposing structure of the Cullen house comes into view with its vast windows reflecting the cloudy sky above. Today might be filled with uncertainties but your heart holds on to the warmth of the conversation, the shared smiles, and the reassurance of your sister's concern, making you feel ready for whatever lies ahead.

As you step into the cool, grand interior of the Cullen house the atmosphere is charged with a mix of anticipation and tension. The Cullen’s are all present. Their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. Alice steps forward first with her slight frame contrasting the intensity of her gaze.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Alice says sincerely. "I know this isn't easy."

You nod feeling the weight of the situation but bolstered by the earlier conversation with Bella. "Let's just get to the bottom of this, Alice. What exactly did you see?"

Alice describes her vision in greater detail explaining that it involved a confrontation that could escalate tensions not just within Forks but potentially with other vampire groups. Your presence, she suggests, might symbolize a commitment to peace that could soothe rising fears.

Edward, ever the voice of reason, interjects thoughtfully. "I’ve given this some thought. Perhaps there's a way to communicate our intentions without requiring Y/N to be directly involved. We could send a message through Carlisle to the other leaders, clarifying our stance and our commitment to peace. Getting the pack involved this early seems… unwise." His soft smile towards you is comforting and you give him a quick nod back agreeing with his stance.

Jasper, who has been quietly assessing the mood, adds, "And I can reach out to my old contacts. They trust my judgment. If I explain the situation and our peaceful intentions it might help calm any unrest."

You listen to each suggestion feeling a sense of relief that there might be solutions that don't require you to be more involved than necessary. "Both sound like good plans," you agree. "My being here today is a show of good faith and hopefully that's enough. Showing that we're united in wanting peace might be the strongest message we can send."

Carlisle nods in agreement. His expression one of gentle authority. "I think that's wise. We appreciate your willingness to help, Y/N, and your insight has been invaluable. But let's minimize risk where we can."

Esme with her nurturing demeanor smiles warmly at you. "And we're here to support you not to make demands. Let's proceed with those ideas and keep communication open. Should we need you we know how to get ahold of you." She gestures to your sister who was looking more and more relieved.

As the meeting begins to wind down and everyone seems to agree on the proactive steps to take, Emmett can't resist lightening the mood. He leans slightly closer to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and pretends to sniff the air dramatically. "Y/N, you know I love you, but you kind of stink like wet dog today," he says with a broad grin, clearly teasing.

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his typical goofiness. "Emmett, you really never change, do you?" you reply. The laughter making your words light and easy.

Rosalie who was standing beside him rolls her eyes affectionately at her husband's antics but smiles at the exchange. It's clear they all value the levity Emmett brings, especially in tense situations.

"Hey, I'm just saying, maybe a little vampire sparkle wouldn't hurt," Emmett chuckles, winking at you.

As you leave the Cullen house, chuckling over Emmett's playful banter, you feel a genuine warmth from the exchange. It's moments like these in the middle of the gravity of supernatural politics that remind you of the strange yet comforting friendship you've found with the Cullen’s. They might be vampires, but their familial bonds and moments of humor aren't so different from what you find at home with Paul and the pack.

As Bella's truck pulls up to the familiar surroundings of La Push you can already see Paul waiting by the road, his posture tense with anticipation. The moment the truck stops he's at the door pulling it open with a haste that speaks volumes of his anxiety and relief.

"You're back," Paul breathes out. His voice thick with emotion as he helps you out of the truck. His hands are gentle but firm, as if he needs to physically feel that you're safe and sound.

"I'm back, just like I promised," you reassure him by reaching up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble and the warmth of his skin. His eyes search yours looking for any sign of distress instead relaxing when he sees your calm demeanor.

Before you can fully turn to Paul you remember Bella, still seated in the driver’s seat, watching the exchange with a small smile. "Thanks, Bella. For everything today," you speak while giving her a grateful look.

Bella nods, her eyes softening. "Of course. Take care, you two," she replies. Her voice carrying a hint of relief at seeing you safe and sound with Paul.

Paul who was not one to hold grudges where your safety is involved, nods at Bella. "Thanks for looking out for her," he adds. His tone sincere despite the underlying tension of the day.

With a final wave Bella starts the truck again before pulling away from the curb as you turn back to Paul. His arms are already open, ready to pull you into a secure embrace. "I was worried, you know," he admits once Bella's truck has disappeared from sight, his voice low, almost a whisper against the breeze. "Every minute felt like an hour. But I trust you. I should have remembered that you can handle anything."

You smile softly as you were touched by his concern and his admission. "I know you were worried, and I love you for it," you say while pulling him close for a hug. "But I also knew everything would be okay. We had to make sure of that."

Paul nods, his expression softening as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry for doubting. It's just hard when I think about anything happening to you."

"Nothing happened, Paul. And I had to go today to keep it that way," you explain, hoping he understands the importance of your actions today. Not just for yourself but for the peace it might ensure.

Paul takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under your hands. "I get it now. I do. And I'm proud of you, Y/N. Really proud." His words are sincere and filled with a new respect for your judgment and your strength.

The two of you stand there for a moment, just holding each other, the sound of the waves in the background a soothing soundtrack to your reunion. Paul's hold tightens briefly as if reaffirming his promise to always be there for you.

"Why don't we just sit here for a while?" Paul suggests, gesturing towards the beach. "Enjoy the quiet and each other's company. No rush, just us." You grin, grateful for the peaceful end to an eventful day. Settling back onto the sand you lean against him feeling truly at home in his embrace. As the sun begins to set it painted the sky in fiery hues. You savor the moment of calm, the simple joy of being together.

As the evening air grows cooler and a gentle shiver passes through you Paul notices immediately. With a concerned furrow of his brow, he shifts closer, his arms reaching out to you. "Hey, come here," he says softly while pulling you gently towards him. Before you know it you're settled comfortably in his lap. His warmth enveloping you like a protective cloak.

Wrapped in his embrace you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of safety and love. Paul's hands rub your arms gently, generating warmth, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "Better?" he asks. His voice a soothing rumble in his chest.

"Much," you reply leaning back against him, feeling his heartbeat steady and reassuring against your back. The sound of the waves, the starlit sky, and Paul's presence combine into a perfect ever peaceful moment.

Paul kisses the top of your head gently. An affirmation of his feelings. "I love you. You know that?" he murmurs into your hair. His voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "Not just for being so strong today, but for every day. For being you."

Your heart feels full. His words lifting you even further into a state of bliss. "I love you too, Paul. So much," you whisper back, turning slightly to catch his eye. The look he gives you is filled with adoration and a promise of infinite tomorrows.

As the evening chill sets in and you snuggle deeper into Paul's embrace his heart swells with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. Under the vast, starlit sky, as he feels your steady breathing against him Paul's thoughts drift towards the future. A future he envisions vividly with you by his side.

Holding you close, his mind fills with images of similar nights, perhaps a little house of your own nearby where the sounds of the ocean can lull you both to sleep. He imagines lazy mornings with you, shared laughter, and quiet evenings just like this one. Each moment reinforcing the bond between you.

"You know," Paul whispers while breaking the comfortable silence. His voice tinged with a mix of wonder and conviction, "I feel like the luckiest guy on earth to have you. Every day with you feels like a promise of something great."

You look up at him, touched by his sincerity and the soft look in his eyes. "And I feel like the luckiest girl," you respond. Your voice soft. "I can't wait for all those days, Paul."

Content in the quiet night wrapped in each other's arms the world seems to stand still. Eventually, as the night deepens and the chill of the air becomes more pronounced, Paul's concern for your comfort reasserts itself. "Let's get you home before you turn into an ice cube," he jokes lightly. But his care is evident in the way he helps you to your feet and keeps you close as you walk to his car.

When you arrive at your doorstep Paul pulls you into one more long, lingering kiss. This one filled with promises and plans. "See you tomorrow, love. Dream of us," he says as he finally, regretfully, pulls away.

As you watch him drive off his earlier words echo in your heart filling you with warmth and a deep, unshakeable sense of belonging. You step inside already counting the minutes until you see him again, secure in the knowledge that what you have is once-in-a-lifetime. Tonight has not only brought you closer but has also cemented a future you are both eager to build together. One beautiful day at a time.

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[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

but now i’m thinking of a twilight au where reader mom is from the tribe and is a shifter, image her moving back to folks and being welcome by the pack?? the batfamily trying to find her and find her at the pack.

adopted by sam and emily, dating someone ( maybe a vampire or a werewolf or connor or ALL??) IMAGEEE. l

"SHEWOLF"

I LOVE THIS ASK!!!(can you tell I'm a supernatural fan?)

Werewolf!reader is as cute as she is dangerous. Her eyes are so bright, they are petrifying. Her teeth are razor-sharp; her nails could cut down any unsuspecting victim. When reader was younger, she couldn't control her shifting; half the time, she would be in full wolf form, tearing up couches and pillows, maybe even clothes. But how could your mom be mad at you? Your absolutely adorable amber eyes, black fur, and wagging tail—she couldn't stay angry for long. And you sneeze; your wolf ears pop out, the same with your tail. You're the youngest of the pack, and it was even worse because you were the smallest. The little pup who can't go hunting cuz "she'll slow us down." But when you got older, you had the most insane growth spurt, making your cousins jealous because you towered over them in wolf and werewolf form without even trying. Even in human form, you're taller, and the reader has some dog-like aspects she'll never grow out of. Like when living with the Waynes, they didn't want to wrestle at all, saying that's for kids. But you need to let off steam, and what's better than letting off steam with wrestling? You and your cousin used to go crazy wrestling in wolf form, destroying most of your mom's furniture. But when Jason hears you whine like a puppy because he won't wrestle with you, he ends up giving in and gets surprised at how strong you are, wolf form or not. You're on top of him, screaming again! You connect with Damian's animals a lot. Titus snarled at you once, and you scared the poor dog away with a growl. You apologized quickly afterward. Alfred, the cat is scared of you; he has no clue what you are, but he knows you're not human. You try your hardest not to scare him to death, but he runs away from you every time. You want to cry. "Ha! He's scared of you!" Duke says with a laugh, but your eyes are droopy and turned down with sadness. "Why?" When the bats first see the transformation into a werewolf and then back to human, they are horrified, shocked, and confused. Except Bruce; he's a little surprised. "You would grow to be that big! I didn't mention it, but your werewolf form is a little uncanny valley-like; you're somewhere between girl, monster, and wolf. It's like a cute little Monster High doll—something you'd see on Supernatural. And when you shift into a wolf, it's kinda odd because you're bigger than the average wolf—way bigger and heavier—but there's something strangely human about you. Barbara says your eyes look so human when you're a wolf, and how when you bark or howl, it sounds like words. But don't let them watch you eat after a successful hunt; they'll be traumatized. Duke, when looking for you (because you've been in the woods too long), just sees you in the middle of gnawing at a deer, ripping the meat right off the bone. Bloodshot eyes, sharp teeth wet with drool and blood, ears pointed down as blood covers your snout. He's completely paralyzed until you speak, 'Duuuke…'" It's like a mixture of a growl and a rasp. He'll have some nightmares after that, but your excuse, "I was hungry," won't work. One time, you came home to the manor with a moose carcass, saying, "Dinner!" Expecting Alfred to cook it, and he couldn't say no when you were staring, whimpering, and pouting. You're my favorite person to hunt with; Cass is a great runner. You've inherited your pack and tribe, meaning you'll soon be the one taking care of it, and you honestly can't wait. But the elders aren't ready to let you go—not now, not ever. So what do they do? They give you a small rosary cross necklace that stops you from shifting for a minute. It's 10% silver, but not enough to hurt you—just enough to leave you in human form. But you can't leave a wild animal caged for long.

[whodoesntlovealliteration]

Chapter 119 SxF

Spoilers under

I'm a little shocked that people didn't expect Twilight's reaction to Yor reaching out to him. I am as much of a TwiYor fan as most people are, but honestly, it's a stretch to say they're anywhere near ready to try to 'make this real'.

One of the draws to me for this series was the tension between them being drawn out. I knew upon coming into this series that their relationship would be frustrating and agonizingly slow. It is and it will continue to be, by the design of the characters and narrative.

I came into the story not only anticipating that dynamic for them, but exceptionally pleased with how Endo has been portraying their inabilities to either connect with others or themselves due to their conditioning. I don't fault anyone for not giving with the pacing but in my opinion there is no other way for this to go.

Twilight has dedicated his entire being to having no desires, interests, dreams. His sense of self was burned right along with all his worldly belongings and his name. As far as he's concerned, he is a machine for The Machine.

It's been made quite clear that he is struggling with cognitive dissonance worming it's way into his mind. His body reacts to Yor without his expectation or understanding(infamous collapse to the floor), when he thinks he often has Freudian Slips around his verbiage(*I will protect Yor* instead of *We will need to be careful, to not compromise the mission*), and he outright goes against all training he has ever received regarding active combat(*kill all SSS in hot pursuit* yet he leaves Yuri alive so Yor doesn't grieve).

I don't think he's unaware of these things. He's *painfully* aware that he's already getting too close, too emotionally dependent on Yor, even if it's truly just crumbs of support. He notices it happening when it happens, and his only choice he's ever had is to bury it and move along.

*The man trusts no one by the nature of his very survival.*

He doesn't seem to understand that Yor is truly romantically interested in him, but why would he care to? It's completely irrelevant to his goals and purpose. Plenty of people have already said that he likely doesn't even entertain any thoughts of her desiring him because the last time he tried to push her boundaries, she *rocked his shit*. I have a feeling that he could tell Yor wanted to have a heartfelt conversation, but, that's simply not a risk he can take after realizing how dangerous his current attachment to her is.

His misunderstanding in their conversation was repetitive and looping. He's beyond skilled at maneuvering discussions how he sees fit, that's his whole career. I doubt he missed every signal that she cares about their arrangement and family, I think he chose to double down and ignore them.

The man isn't stupid, he's likely quite uncomfortable, even fearful of the effects her companionship has already had on him. She had asked what the plan after Anya's graduation would be and instead of asking what she meant, he avoided the question almost entirely. He can't bring himself to think that far ahead since he's certain that 'Loid Forger' would be long dead before that question required an actual answer.

Progress is not linear. People do not develop cleanly. We've watched him accidentally let his girls under his skin for the last 6 months and it's gotten bad enough that he's receding back into his shell now that he knows how dangerously close he is to *getting himself killed*. Before he can have any kind of epiphany of his feelings or interests for the future, his entire coping strategy of depersonalization has to be challenged so heavily that he has no choice but to admit he's compromised.

As people heal, they tend to swing on a pendulum of improvement and regression. He's going to desperately cling to what has kept him safe for his entire life until this point until it doesn't work anymore.

And a further point, we have no clue what was the longest time he's been in a honey trap relationship before the canon begins but it's at least well implied that he was with Karen for enough time for her to be asking about marriage and commitment. I'd go as far to say even someone as vapid as Karen(given what little thoughts Twilight seemed to have of her) wouldn't be thinking seriously about rings before 3-4 months. So let's say they were together for 6 months.

Twilight can and has kept full detachment from his Honey Marks many, many, many times before. Let's say 6 months was the longest. If Twilight left now, I'm certain it would sting him and he would use it to continue his long pattern of self-hatred, but he'd likely be able to compartmentalize it by this point.

It's only now that he's starting to slip in too deep to waters he's never tread before.

Personally? I'm excited to see him suffer inside as warmth and love burrow their unwelcome tendrils into the cold black thing he has that was once considered a heart. The only way we get a version of this man willing to share his soul with anyone else, is for him to literally have no other choice than to accept it.

[dollsxcaptains]

DeadDoveDontRead | Don'tLikeDon'tRead 18+

AFAB but no pronouns or feminine descriptions used. Step-cest (liberals use of 'brother' and 'sibling") , cheating, non-con/un-protected sex, yandere, Dick Grayson is a creep, power dynamics

꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦

We've talked about Dick Grayson cheating but may I go a step further and say that he'd full on cheat on his partner with his adoptive sibling. And to make matters worse it's really just Dick Grayson being an absolute disgusting creep towards them and they just being like—hey this is wrong??please stop??—

I'm sorry but yummy power dynamic. It's not even like you're all that much younger than Dick, you're both in you're 20's. And no matter your height, weight or strength, He dwarfs you. Don't even get e started on the automatic authority Dick has over everyone (that's mainly due to Bruce treating him like the second head of the household.) He's the golden child that could do no wrong, you've seen it time and time again where Dick does something worthy of being borderline-disowned and instead gets a kiss-on-the-wrist (because a slap on the wrist is far too harsh on little ol' robin and to be honest Dick is just a little dense,,,he's doesn't understand boundaries like you and I. Being 27-ish is still so young. Give the man grace, will ya?)

So how could you, possibly feel like you have any right to reject anything Dick Grayson wanted from you at this point? Especially not when you've complained to Bruce a numerous of times about how uncomfortable your pseudo brother makes you and more than hinted at the inappropriate things he does to you only met with "I'll speak to him but-" followed by a painfully disingenuous reasoning behind his behaviors and how you may be misunderstanding your older brother. Bruce doesn't seem to believe you, or rather he does but he'd much rather sweep it under the rug and let his precious Robin play with the toy his choice because thats much easier than facing the reality that he did in-fact fail in some way with Dick (who desperately needs to go a form of behavioral therapy.)

To be fair, none of the other bats seem to be concerned with Dick's constant harassment towards you either. Steph and Cass might jokingly punch him and tell him to leave poor you alone, when they notice him chewing on your ear all the while groping you during movie night. Or Jason might actually call him out for fucking drooling over himself as he watches you from the kitchen but that's about it. It's really the Twilight Zone and you have to wonder to yourself if Dick ever had this type of relationship with any of them before you so they are all just conditioned to believe this normal. I mean he was with Babs but she's not- well you're not either- but it's different.

Oh what great relief did you feel when Dick proudly announces at breakfast that he met someone new and how he's not going to be around as much anymore. Only for that relief to be crushed by the weight of a new brand of anxiety you've never felt before when your eyes laid upon a picture of person who looks…(deep breath everyone)…just like his dear sibling. Yay… 

I mean maybe not just alike but they share your hair, eye, and skin color. Even wear a similar style of clothes to you.

Maybe you should see the bright side. They'll be keeping him occupied now and you'll no longer have to deal any of this. This is actually great. This is what you prayed for right? Even though it's a bit un-nerving that somehow he found someone who strikingly resembles you to be intimate with. Do you think that this is his way of scratching an itch that he has? He's violated you in many ways , more than you can count but he's always stopped up to a certain point. Has been wanting to go further but knows this is the only way he can without being too far gone. Is this the type of conversations he's been having with Bruce? Oh it's okay to harass your batsib as long as you can control yourself enough not to fuck them.

Okay, gross.

You try your best not to think too much of it. Dick will be finally out of the house and making use of his apartment thats a city over in Bludhaven. This is still great, minor details don't matter.

—

For about a month, Dick was actually scarce. He'd only come through while he was in his Nightwing attire , usually after or right before patrol to go discuss things with the others. Too focused or far too tired to even acknowledge you.

On the off chance that he just decided to stop by it was actually with his partner and still not really acknowledging you. Purposefully, though. Everyone got a proper introduction to them, except for you.

His eyes would refuse to meet yours, not even wanting to turn his head in your direction. If he had to speak to you for whatever reason he was curt, seemingly agitated that he'd even have to. He didn't shine his Grayson smile at you anymore. He didn't even share his baseline warmth that he used with literally everyone. He was restrained, unnaturally so. 

And not that you were meaning to paying close attention to them but curiosity had you wondering if he interacted differently with his date than he did with you. Does he pull them into his lap and mindlessly roam their body? Or give peppering kisses down their neck while he does on about how much he reveres them?

No.

He was sweet with them. Carefully holding their hand or cupping their face for a single, peck on their cheek like they're third grade lovers. So respectful and so not like the Dick you know.

You weren't trying to find things to complain about and quite frankly his personal affairs aren't really your business but why wasn't he being more perverted with them? Something was off. I mean yeah, they haven't been together that long but Dick wasted no time being handsy with you and he's never felt shame towards PDA. 

The more you thought about it and payed attention, it all clicked for you. Dick wasn't into them. He used a specific tight-lipped smile with them that was reserved only for the people he'd rather not be around. Yes, he was sweet with them but it felt lie the same sweetness you give your neighbor when you're trying to be nice, it wasn't loving.

The thought crossed your mind if this was a setup by Bruce, maybe he was tired of your complaints and used his resources to find a suitable replacement for you? But Dick's initial excitment for them seemed to suggest this was his lone attempt at trying to redirect his advances.

How long would it take Dick before he realized just how unsatisfied just went back to harassing you?

—

Forcing his hand over your mouth as he grinds his bare erection onto your thigh. His usual bright blue eyes, dark and teary from the pathetic act. There's almost a sorrowful look in his eyes, maybe not for you because if he were he wouldn't be doing it this. You don't have to wonder more because not before long, he's confessing his sins as if he's in mass.

"Shit- I promise Bruce i wouldn't…m' wouldn't do this to you-"

Something warmer than the heat of his groin dribbled onto your plush skin.. a whine following it as he continues grinding

Gross. Gross. Gross.

"-I'm supposed to be a good brother and be fucking them instead..but they're not enough. I tried to make them enough for me."

He removes his hand from your mouth, not giving you enough time to speak or cry out before his lips smashes onto yours, nearly choking you on tongue. His free hand does from groping your chest, sliding down to your clit then gripping onto his cock.

He rips his lips away with a sound thats far too sloppy and disgusting to ever want to remember and rambles on about some sick fantasy he's had about you all while stroking himself.

"-It's going to be so hard not finishing in you like I imagined but I know B wont forgive me if I-" 

He pauses for a seconded, a chilling smile flashes on his face, more pre-cum leaking from his fat tip before shaking the thought away.

"No. Not yet."

Not yet? 

There's not a moment to adjust to intrusion, no gentleness, no sweetness. His pace is quick, and each thrust is hitting your g-spot at an angle that somehow brought you more pain than pleasure. His teeth are sunken into the crook of your neck and his hands are bruising your wrists. He's the only one enjoying himself like creep he is. 

"I'm a horrible brother fucking you like this, aren't I."

The rhetorical question laced with a pleasure only someone this messed up could have.

"..so disgusting.."

And when you do tighten around him as you reach your forced climax, you can see it in his eyes that he's convinced you're just as I love with him as is with you. Talking you through it and moaning declarations of love as if this was some romantic first time you were sharing as a couple.

His climax follows soon after, his cock barely escaping out of you before emptying himself onto your swollen cunt. 

"Mm' fu- fuck."

He collapses on top of you, muttering about how this is your little secret and you can't tell Bruce or his partner. How he'll make sure he won't neglect you, and that you won't have to worry about never having him again because he doesn't love them like he loves you. He only plans to keep them around so that Bruce think he's gotten over his "infatuation" with you.

Thus it becomes a thing where he just continues to cheat on his partner with you. Not that you approve of it, but Dick is crazy enough where you're not sure if you even feel safe telling anyone. Either way it won't stop Dick from getting what he wants. It nauseating watching him kiss on them at dinner knowing he just going to turn around a fuck you afterwards

[rueclfer]

smau request- maaaybe tomura trying to convince reader to wake up and hang with him super late bc he’s def a night owl & they end up staying up until sunrise; flirtation & heavy petting etc as we love to see it

i wrote this at 2am my brain is fried but waow loser/slightly more confident shiggy ily+ enjoy this mix of written and smau <3

twilight zone // tomura shigaraki

"oh my fucking god, knock much?" tomura exclaims, spinning around towards you in his swivel chair.

"shut up." you yawn, rubbing your eyes away from the bright PC screen illuminating the room. "like you weren't expecting me or something."

from his desk, tomura watches you click the door behind you and crawl into his bed. you pull the comforter up to your chin and nestle into his mattress as if he was the one that intruded on you in his own bedroom.

"wasn't half-sure if you were even going to come." he murmurs before shutting down his PC, diminishing the only light source in the room.

you feel the bed shift beside you as he stiffly lays down. "might as well light some candles too while you're at it." you tease.

despite how groggy you sounded, tomura could hear you signature smirk in your voice- the one that never failed to irritate the fuck out of him. he hadn't thought this far ahead- wasn't even expecting you to respond to him this late at all. all he could think about was how quick his late-night confidence was dwindling into nothing, making him squirm a bit in his own bed.

"i'd prefer to not have to look at your face." he mutters.

owch.

you don't respond. the exhaustion was ready to take over once your head hit the pillow. you think about the last time you had been in his bed like this.

it was about a month ago when you found yourself too drunk to even form a cohesive sentence. he didn't understand what you were blabbering about, but once he saw your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and handle of whiskey under your arm, he just assumed the worst.

you were drunk, touch starved, and desperate, but of course he knew better than to let you sloppily smash your lips into his like you intended two when you stumbled into his doorway. he spent that night half asleep in his gaming chair, periodically reaching over to make sure you were still breathing with his trash can pulled up next to your side of the bed.

once you sobered up the next day, he scolded you. relentlessly. strings of obscenities dripping from his mouth.

from that point on, he made sure to always find a way to keep you two at bay- something that he himself wasn't even sure how to go about. elbow nudges. kicking your feet under the dining room table. laying your legs over his lap on the couch without you asking. pats on shoulder. all to make sure that night never repeated- unsure if he could handle you throwing yourself all over him again.

"are you fucking falling asleep?" you feel a jolt on your shoulder as he shakes you awake. "wake up."

"i'm tired." you whine.

"well stop. i didn't invite you here to sleep in my bed." he huffs.

"the fucks got you up, then?"

"nothing."

you go silent for a moment.

"don't be annoying or else i'll leave." you deadpan.

"don't ask stupid questions then." he returns the attitude. "isn't it obvious? i can't sleep. can't even game right now. i just want to..." he voice falters at the end.

"...hang out with you, i guess."

oh.

your jaw slightly gapes open in surprise, spikes of heat crawling up your neck.

you tightly grip the fabric of the comforter. "well, when you say it like that, it sounds like you actually like me." you chuckle.

"didn't say that. we live together. bothering you is my only option."

"lucky you, i love when you bother me." you scoot closer, noses onto a few inches away from one another. "and even more when i bother you."

"yeah, i know. it's like you can't resist me or something." he pulls the comforter up over his mouth, shyly muffling his words.

"i should be thanking you then, right? thank you so much, tomu, for letting me lay in your bed with you. please. i want you. i need you. it's all i can think about when i'm just across the hall from you. " you roll your eyes.

he scoffs. "wouldn't be the first time you were pathetically begging for me either."

"as if." you spit. "i'd never."

"but you have."

a beat of silence passes. you press your lips together as hotness comes over your body while the events of that night surges back to you.

"you said you'd never bring that up again." you clench your teeth, cringing at the memory of tomura retelling that night's endeavors to you the morning after.

"needed to humble you a bit." he chuckles. "told you it's not a big deal though if you're still embarrassed about it."

"no shit, i'm still embarrassed." you tug the covers up to your nose. "i tried getting at you and you rejected me. i'll never live that down, tomu."

tomura goes quiet for a moment. he must've been thinking. he does that often- retreat back into his head when he isn't sure about what else to say. or maybe he had finally fallen asleep.

you glanced over his shoulder to the analog clock sitting on his desk.

4:27AM.

it was late- or early. maybe these past few sleepless nights had finally caught up to him, hopefully to save you from having to relive an embarrassing moment.

to him, tomura's brain was malfunctioning. crashing. blue screen error.

"uh. wait." he begins, breaking the silence. "reject' isn't the right word. you were drunk. i just did what anyone else would have."

"call it what you want. i just wanted a smooch and you weren't with it. it's whatever, i'm over it, you heartbreaker." you dramatically sigh.

"well, i'll give you one now if it'll get you to shut up."

it was your turn to error and crash now.

"really?" your eyes widen.

tomura's breathing stops. he wasn't sure what gave him the confidence to say that outloud. maybe it was because he couldn't clearly see your face. it was almost like you weren't there- like he was speaking out into the void that made it so easy for those words to slip out.

he didn't mean it. right?

"yeah."

fuck.

"-if you want though." he quips.

please shut the fuck up.

"last month wasn't a rejection. i just didn't want you to only want me when you're drunk, you know."

stop talking.

"but you're sober now and we're talking about it and i just-"

your lips crash into his. it catches you off guard as much as it does to him. despite how much you enjoyed listening to him ramble out his nervousness, you couldn't risk losing another opportunity to kiss him.

your hands crawl up to the side of his neck, rubbing the tender skin below his jaw as you draw him closer to you. the floodgates have opened now. tomura met your lips with the same eagerness.

you were pressed up against one another, legs intertwined, sharing a breath and heartbeats as your hands glided over each other's bodies.

your stomach was twisting with anxiety. how long had you been waiting for this moment? all of those shy glances around the apartment, subtle touches, and hidden affections had clearly not gone unnoticed.

his hand runs from the nape of your neck to your lower back where he slips his hand under your shirt, causing you to pull away in surprise from the sudden contact.

"your hands are freezing, tomu." you gasped. "what the fuck?"

"sorry." he sheepishly mutters against your lips. he keeps his hand against the soft skin of your back, lightly rubbing the area as an apologetic gesture as it warms against your body.

"sorry." you repeat, humiliation starting to creep up your neck as you two settle with the realization of what line you two had just crossed.

a beat of silence passes.

"um. so." he coughs.

"so...yeah." you respond.

it wasn't long before you two started giggling to one another like a couple of children.

"shut up." you laugh, hiding your face into the pillow.

"guess i did say you coukd have anything you want if you came over." he breathlessly chuckles.

"please. shut. up." you squeak out. "i'm going to sleep. it's already like..." you peer over his shoulder. "almost 5:00AM, tomu. good fucking night."

you turn around, letting your back face him. you could die right now. melt into this mattress and into nothing. thank god it was dark and thank god he shared this humiliation with you.

he slings his arm around your waist, bringing himself flushed against your back.

"i'm not tired." he mumbles into the back of your neck, peppering kisses into the soft skin. "stay up with me."

you mentally kick yourself. because you do- not that there was much left of the night to get through, anyways, but because when the night's haze dissipates, you'll be dealt with a bigger issue that you wouldn't be able to pass off as a drunken mistake.

[runningincircl3s]

Untitled Bestfriend!Noah x Reader Series

Part 3 (finally) (sorry for the wait!!)

okay i'm sorry for the wait!! it's been almost a month since i posted part two but i've been super busy lately, but i wrote this last night so i'm hoping it doesn't seem too rushed!! the series masterlist is here and you can join the taglist here :) (and i promise i wont make everyone wait another month to post part 4 lmao)

warnings: NSFW!! porn with little plot- each chapter is basically a oneshot, oral (f and m recieving) i don't wanna spoil too much...

You were stood in the middle of Noah’s room, your makeup half-done, your dress still draped across the back of his chair, your curling wand sat unplugged on his desk. You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, you were pacing with a knot in your stomach.

“I don’t want to go.” You muttered, not really to him, more to yourself.

Noah was sprawled across his bed, wearing his black fall out boy shirt, black jeans and of course his red beanie, scrolling on his phone. 

“We’ve been planning this all week,” he reminded you without looking up. “You were excited yesterday!”

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, flopping onto the bed beside him. “That was before I found out who else is gonna be there.”

Now he looked at you. 

“Those girls?”

You didn’t say anything, just pulled a face and sighed. Noah knew enough to fill in the blanks.

“You don’t have to talk to them.”

“I know but I don’t even want to see them.”

He set his phone down and turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. 

“So let’s just go for an hour. We’ll grab a drink, say hey to everyone who isn’t a bitch, and come back here.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle between you two. The room was warm with the heat of the summer, and smelled like him, as always. His playlist played quietly in the background, some new Bring Me the Horizon song you weren’t too familiar with. 

“You really don’t want to go, huh?” You could feel him watching you, even without looking at him. 

You shook your head. 

“Not if I can just stay here with you.”

“What are we gonna do,” he smirked, “Watch Twilight for the fifteenth time?”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head toward him, eyes narrowing. “You wanna go that bad?”

“I kind of do.” He rolled onto his back next to you, his tone playful. “I was looking forward to free beer that tastes like ass and watching dudes try to flirt with you.”

“You’re such a liar.” You snorted. 

“Fine,” he said, grin widening. “I was looking forward to watching dudes not flirt with you.” 

“Only because they think you’re my boyfriend!”

“So you’re saying I’m the reason guys don’t hit on you?”

“If you saw a guy sat with his arm around a girl, you’d assume they were dating, right?”

“No…” Noah smirked, “I’d go up and ask her first.” 

“Well, that’s you, Noah. Not everyone else is so… experienced.” 

A silence settled over you two again for a moment, until you turned to face him again. 

“Do you really want to go?”

Noah hesitated, thumb grazing the seam of his jeans. 

“I mean… I was kinda looking forward to it.”

“Right,” you said quietly.

“But I don’t care that much.” His eyes flicked to you again. “Not if you’re not feeling it.”

You gave him a weak smile. 

“I just don’t wanna be around people who make me feel like shit, y’know? It’s not about ruining your night.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up a little. “Staying here with you sounds like a pretty decent trade.”

“Yeah, right.” 

“Hey, I mean it.” He turned his head to look at you, something softer in his expression now. “I’ll stay in with you, we could chill, throw on a movie. I’ll even let you pick. I’ll even sit through Twilight again.”

You bit your lip. There it was again, that pull. You didn’t mean to feel it, but it was always there with him. Comfort and heat, tangled up in the same breath.

You sat up a little against the headboard. 

“What if I gave you a better reason to stay…”

He raised a brow, intrigued. 

“Better than Twilight?” He asked, voice laced with sarcasm. 

A small smirk tugged at your lips. You crossed your arms, tilting your head. 

“What if I let you eat me out?”

The smirk fell clean off his face.

His mouth parted, eyes widening just slightly like he wasn’t sure if you were joking.

“You’re serious?” He said slowly.

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how warm your skin felt.

Noah sat up, legs folding beneath him as he faced you properly. His voice dipped low. 

“You know you don’t have to offer sex to keep me here.”

“I know that.” You met his eyes, steady now. “I just… I’ve been thinking about what you said. That night, when we were at my place.”

He stilled, remembering instantly. 

“I meant that,” he said, voice getting lower now. “I meant every fucking word.”

You swallowed. 

“I know.”

A quiet beat passed between you. Then he leaned forward, hand resting near your thigh on the bed.

“You sure? Really sure?”

You nodded again. 

“I want to. I want you to.”

His eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over your face. Then, softer, more serious, he whispered.

“I'm gonna ruin you for everyone else, y’know?”

You huffed a laugh. 

“You’ve already ruined me. This has been all I can think about lately. I want it. I want you..”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you then, slow and hungry, but still careful. You let yourself sink into it, into him, as he shifted you gently beneath him. His hands moved with purpose, but not rushed, he was taking his time, like he was savouring every second.

He pulled your top off with ease, leaving a trail of warm kisses down your sternum, across your stomach. When he got to the waistband of your shorts, he paused, resting his forehead just above them.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low, his hands gentle on your thighs.

You nodded again, breath shaky. 

“Yeah. Just… A little nervous.”

He smiled, lifting his head enough to press a kiss over your navel. 

“Just relax,” he murmured. “Let me show you how good it feels- but if you want me to stop at all just say, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded.

Then he started again, slower this time- teasing kisses on your thighs, nipping gently at the sensitive skin until you were writhing. He took his time easing your shorts down your legs, kissing as he went, not breaking eye contact when he finally pulled your underwear aside.

The first kiss he pressed to your clit made your whole body jolt, and he smiled, the smug bastard, because he knew. 

He knew he was about to show you something you’d never forget.

“Yeah?” he murmured against you. “That feel good, baby?”

You could barely form a sound, let alone words, your breath caught between a gasp and a moan.

“Good,” he said, lips brushing you again. “You just lay back and let me take care of you.”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pausing.

“Okay?” he asked again, voice low, eyes flicking to yours.

You gave a breathless nod, and he smiled gently before pulling them down, watching every inch of skin he uncovered. Once they were off, he let his gaze linger, and you squirmed instinctively under the weight of it.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He murmured, almost to himself.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh, then the other, trailing his mouth so close you whimpered. His breath ghosted over you before he gently used his thumbs to part you, inspecting every reaction.

“Look at you,” he whispered, brushing the pad of one thumb over your clit so lightly it made your thighs tremble, “Can’t believe I’m the only one who can play with this.” 

You couldn’t even form words, your fingers curled into the sheets, hips twitching when he pressed a kiss right over your center, then your clit again, still teasing, still taking his time.

He looked up again, eyes dark but soft. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, breathless, and then his tongue met you fully, licking a slow stripe up from your hole to your clit, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. Your back arched instantly, a moan slipping from your lips before you could stop it as his lips wrapped around your clit. 

Noah groaned at the sound, hands spreading your thighs a little wider as he settled himself between them. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

You couldn’t believe how good it felt- sure, your friends had talked about it before, and you had heard stories from other girls about what your best friend could do with that mouth, but you never imagined you’d get the chance to experience it. You were feeling dizzy at how overwhelming and warm and intimate it all was. The way he looked up at you, making eye contact while he did it, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, fuck it made your head spin.

And then he started talking, sending vibrations with every word. 

“Sooo soft, so warm” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “So sweet. You’re doing so good, baby. How’s it feel?”

You whimpered, hips lifting against his mouth before you could stop yourself.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice rough as he placed a hand just below your navel, holding you down. “Just like that. Let me feel how much you like it.”

You were already trembling, his hair tickling you as your thighs tightened around his head, and he didn’t even slow down. If anything, he seemed to enjoy how sensitive you were, how new it all was to you, how he knew he was the first to ever touch and feel and see you like this. He was so gentle, but every flick of his tongue made your pulse spike.

And then he took your clit between his lips, looking up at you through his lashes as he gently sucked, and you could’ve sworn you saw god. 

“Mmm Noah!” You gasped, hands flying to his hair without thinking.

He grinned against you, clearly loving how wrecked you sounded. 

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?” He asked between kisses to your cunt, before his tongue circled your clit again. 

You nodded quickly, barely able to breathe as your fingers tangled in his hair.

“I… I think so-”

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice dropping even lower. 

“That’s it. Let me feel it. Let me feel you cum for me, make a mess, baby.”

Your whole body was trembling, the knot tightening in your belly, ready to snap, every nerve ending lit up like a live wire. You could barely hold on, your hands gripping his hair like it was the only thing anchoring you to earth.

And he didn’t let up.

His tongue moved like he knew exactly what you needed, what would make you come undone completely. And he did. He knew your body even better than you did. Every tiny gasp, every twitch of your thighs, every shaky exhale only made him more focused.

“You’re so close,” he whispered, voice thick and dark with want. “I can feel it.”

You whimpered again, hips rocking against his mouth helplessly.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, lips brushing your clit as he spoke. “Let it happen.”

That was all it took.

The orgasm hit so hard it almost had your vision going white, a choked moan spilling from your lips as your body arched off the bed. Noah held you through it, his mouth still working you through every wave of pleasure, until it became too much and you whimpered, tugging gently at his hair to tell him it was too much. 

He finally eased back, giving your thigh one last kiss before lifting his head, his face flushed and glistening, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded and so fucking smug.

You couldn’t even find your voice, still catching your breath, your limbs boneless.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, blinking at the ceiling.

Noah chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up beside you to give you a kiss, before lying on his side so he could trace slow circles on your hip.

“You okay?” He murmured, voice soft again.

You turned to face him, cheeks warm, lips parted. 

“Fuck, yeah… Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged modestly, but the gleam in his eye gave him away. 

“Years of being a slut.” At least he was honest.

You burst out laughing, and he leaned in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, pulling you gently against his chest. You didn’t resist.

After a moment, you whispered, 

“Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being so… gentle.”

“Always.” He kissed your forehead. 

You stayed like this for a moment, your head on his chest, forehead tucked under his jaw as he traced patterns over your back. You shifted a little, trying to get comfy, but then your knee brushed over something hard, and you felt Noah’s breath catch as you did so. 

“Is that… Are you…?” You felt your face heat up, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes wide.

Noah gave a breathy little laugh, cheeks tinged pink. 

“Yeah. Uh… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said quickly, eyes flicking down before meeting his again. “I just… didn’t realise.”

He gave you a lazy smile.

“It’s fine. I can take care of it myself later. That was about you.”

Something about the way he said that made your stomach flip. He meant it. This wasn’t a transactional thing, he genuinely wanted to make you feel good.

But still…

“What if I don’t want you to take care of it yourself?” You asked softly, fingers tracing the ink on his arm. 

Noah blinked, eyes searching yours. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You swallowed, nerves fluttering in your throat. “What if I want to do more? I want to… do it again.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze sharpening as he searched your face for any hesitation. 

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, even as your voice came out small. 

“Yeah. I want to.”

His hand came up to cradle your jaw gently. 

“You don’t have to, baby. I meant it, I’m good just like this.”

“I know.” You leaned into his touch, your heart thudding. “But I want to.”

Noah watched you for a moment longer, thumb brushing over your cheek. Then, slowly, he kissed you again, soft at first, then deeper, more purposeful, like he was giving you time to change your mind.

You didn’t.

He rolled you gently onto your back, shifting to settle between your legs, kissing you slow and sweet. His hands roamed your body with practiced care, but never rushed, he was so good at this, and even though it made you nervous, given he was far more experienced at this, but it also made you feel safe.

He reached down, guiding himself against your entrance, but paused just before half the tip was was already in.

“We didn’t prep you, not properly,” he murmured, brows drawn together. “I should’ve gotten you ready, you're still so new to this-”

“It’s okay, I can take it,” you whispered, hooking your legs around his hips, even though it already felt like too much. “I want to.”

But when he pushed in just a little more, your whole body tensed.

It burned, it wasn’t painful but it was far from comfortable. You winced, your eyes screwing shut as you drew a sharp breath. 

"It's okay..." You tried to reassure him, though you struggled to even convince yourself. "I'll... I'll get used to it."

Noah stopped instantly.

“Hey,” he said gently, kissing your cheek. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it’s okay if it’s not.”

You blinked up at him, shame prickling at the edges. 

“I’m sorry-”

“No! Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly, brushing your hair back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just-” he swallowed, still hovering over you, “-I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re in pain, okay? I’d rather wait… Make sure we do it properly so it feels great for the both of us, yeah?”

You bit your lip, nodding, even though you hated how disappointed you felt. You wondered if he'd ever had this before, or if this- if you were the first person he had to stop for.

He saw it.

“Look at me,” he whispered, coaxing your chin up so your eyes met. “I want this again, too. So bad it almost hurts. But not if it’s gonna hurt you. I'd never do that.”

You nodded again, your heart melting at the way he said it. He wasn’t frustrated, or impatient. Just… tender.

“But next time?” You whispered.

He smiled then, slow and warm, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Next time, we’ll do it right. I’ll get you all ready, baby. Take my time. Make it feel so good you won’t want to stop.”

Then, he pulled you close again, pressing his forehead to yours as he held you. 

You lay there for a little while, tangled up in each other, his hands drawing soft shapes along your spine as your heartbeat settled. Every so often, you'd feel him twitch against your thigh, still hard, still aching, but he didn’t say anything about it. He was too focused on you.

But you noticed. You couldn’t help it. 

And after a few moments of silence, you shifted slightly, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Noah?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Can I… try something?”

His brow lifted slightly, but his gaze stayed soft. 

“What kind of something?”

“I wanna try giving you a blowjob, if that’s okay?” Your cheeks flushed.

He blinked, surprised, and for a second you thought maybe you’d overstepped, but then a slow, crooked grin tugged at his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes darkening. “You sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding. 

“Yeah. I wanna learn... Will you teach me?”

He exhaled like it physically pained him to hold back, reaching up to cup your cheek and kiss you again, this time deeper, more heated.

“Yes of course, baby,” he said against your lips. “I’ll show you everything.”

He lay back, undressing and then letting you settle between his legs. You glanced down, swallowing hard at the sight of him. He was thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. He was definitely bigger than you remembered from the first time, and that little flutter of nerves in your stomach returned.

“Start slow,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Don’t go straight in, use your hand first. Get used to it.”

You reached for him tentatively, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. He let out a low groan the second you touched him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck… Just like that, yeah,” he praised, hips barely twitching up. “You’ve got perfect hands, so fucking soft.”

You stroked him slowly, watching his reactions, learning what made his breath hitch and his thighs tense. When you leaned in, hesitating just before your lips touched him, he opened his eyes again.

“Start with your tongue,” he said gently, brushing a hand over your hair. “You don’t have to take a lot. Just go slow, get it wet first.”

You nodded, licking a shy stripe from the base up to the tip, pressing a little soft kiss to it before doing it again, feeling a little braver when he moaned your name.

“That’s it, baby. Shit… It feels so good. You’re so good.”

You wrapped your lips around the head, letting him in little by little, trying not to gag when you took it a little too far. He was patient, guiding your movements with soft praise and the occasional gentle tug in your hair.

“Don’t go too deep,” he said softly. “Use your hand on what you can’t fit. That’s it, fuck. Just like that. God, you’re such a quick learner.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and the sound he made was almost desperate.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna lose it.”

You hollowed your cheeks, copying what you had seen when you had attempted to watch porn a while ago when you were desperate to get yourself off. You moved your hand in rhythm with your mouth, watching the way his stomach flexed under your touch. He was getting close, you could tell by the way his voice grew rougher, his hips bucking just the slightest. 

“Baby- Shit, wait.” He gently pulled your head back just before he was about to cum, even though his body clearly didn’t want to. “Don’t take it in your mouth.”

You blinked up at him, confused, your hand still moving.

He let out a breathy laugh, brushing your hair back from your face. 

“It doesn’t taste good. I don’t want that to be your first memory of this.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, but his tenderness made it melt into something warm and grateful.

“So what do I do?”

“Just your hand,” he said, voice tight. “Finish me off, just like you were doing. Fuck… you’re doing perfect. Best I’ve ever had.”

You stroked him faster, watching his face as his jaw clenched, his chest rising sharply.

“I’m gonna…” he groaned, eyes locked on yours. “Keep going- yeah, baby, fuck- just like that-”

He came with a hoarse moan of your name, spilling across his stomach and your hand, his muscles tight as a bowstring. You watched, completely mesmerised, as his whole body shuddered under you.

When he opened his eyes again, you were still staring, flushed, curious, a little breathless yourself. You reached out, hesitating for just a second, then dipped your finger into the mess on his stomach.

His brows lifted, surprised. 

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?”

You shrugged with a small smirk. 

You brought your finger to your lips and tasted it, just a flick of your tongue, your face scrunched a little.

He laughed, low and warm. 

“Told you.”

“Yeah,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. “Not my favourite.”

“But you’re my favourite.” He said, tugging you up toward him, guiding you to straddle his waist again. You lay down on him carefully, bare bodies pressed together, and he kissed your temple, nose, then lips.

“We better clean up.” You suggested, and Noah- still coming down from his orgasm- nodded with a lazy smile. 

“Yeah… Good idea.” 

You’d both cleaned up quietly, exchanging soft smiles and playful touches as you got dressed again. You were still a little shaky, your heart light and full as Noah grabbed his hoodie from the floor and tugged it over his head, running a hand through his messy hair. 

He glanced at you once he was dressed, that gentle, post-orgasm glow still in his eyes.

“You hungry?” he asked, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “I was thinking I could make us something.”

You looked up at him, pleasantly surprised. 

“You cook now?”

He chuckled. 

“I mean, I can make a sandwich. That counts, right?”

You smiled and nodded, letting him guide you downstairs to the kitchen. The house was quiet, his friends/roommates left for the party a couple hours ago. And you were definitely not regretting staying in, and you knew Noah wasn’t either. 

Noah opened the fridge and started rummaging through ingredients while you leaned against the counter, watching him with fondness in your chest you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“My parents are both away this week,” you said after a moment, your voice a little smaller than before. “Work trips.”

He glanced up, curious.

“Both of them?”

You nodded. 

“Yeah. They leave Sunday night. I’ll have the house to myself until Friday.”

Noah froze for a second, then closed the fridge and looked at you fully.

“So you’re gonna be here alone all week?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual even though the truth tugged at your insides. 

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it. Just… don’t really like going back to being alone after we’ve spent time together, y’know?”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes softening.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he said. “I can stay.”

Your heart skipped.

“Like, for dinner?”

“No,” he said with a soft chuckle, stepping closer again. “Like… there. With you. I can bring clothes, stay the whole week if you want? Keep you company.”

Your breath caught. 

“You’d do that?”

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, of course. You know I’d do anything for you… I mean, if you want me to. We could hang out, watch movies, order takeout. Sleep in the same bed.”

Your lips twitched into a small smile. 

“You wanna have sex on every surface in the house?”

“Eventually, yeah.” He smirked, “But I meant I just wanna be there with you. So you don’t feel alone.”

You smiled. There was something so sincere in his voice that it made your heart ache, and the look in his eyes was nothing short of pure love and care. 

“Okay,” you said softly. “Stay. Please.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering there.

“I will,” he murmured. “Now sit your cute ass down and let me make you the best post sex- or… whatever we just did- sandwich you’ll ever have.”

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

i've been doing this shit for years and i STILL cannot proof read my own smut without feeling weird LMAO

@dominuslunae @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @theasowle @renegadebirch @super-btstrash-posts @skulla-rxcks @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @ami--gami @h4tef6ck @lilrubles @amelia-acero @uselessperson69 @ichoosetenderomens @dostoievskitty @formula1loversstuff @c0urt-0519 @animal4princess-blog @swissy23

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: The Human and the Wolf Chapter One

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x OC (First person, no use of Y/N)

Description: Bella Swan's twin moved to Forks with her sister. Whilst Bella falls for a vampire, her twin falls for a wolf. The story runs parallel to Bella's story in Twilight. But following her twin and her life with the wolves.

Rating: Eventually explicit.

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.

Chapter One - I Met A Cute Guy

Bella and I were the new kids, it was awful, being the shiny new toys, but we'd survive it. I was Bella's twin, I was younger than her by a few minutes, but sometimes, most of the time I felt like the oldest twin. She made sillier choices than me, but I still loved her for it. Our first day at Forks High School, had been, weird, everyone knew our names, and stared at us, even now, as we were sat in the school café, surrounded by a large group of, I guess our new friends, everyone starred. 

"Who are they?" Bella asked, I followed her eyeline to see a group of people walking into the building. I stared at them as Jessica explained who they were, they made me feel uneasy, they looked...amazing.. perfect even, I felt stress in the depts of my heart as they walked further into the room. I watched Bella's face, she looked incredibly curious, almost like she couldn't stare away. I shook my head softly and moved back to my sandwich. 

"That's Edward Cullen, he's gorgeous of course, but don't waste your time...He doesn't date" Jessica keeps talking, I roll my eyes lightly, these people couldn't be that interesting surely "Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him" Jessica said the last part like she had personally been rejected from this Edward Cullen. I glance over to the group again, they were pale, and beautiful, but something made me turn away, something deep inside of me.

"Good thing I wouldn't be interested in him" I smirk, still not understanding the excitement over this boy.  

"Oh come on, don't be a buzzkill...Edward Cullen is the best looking boy here" Jessica adds, she was looking at me like she couldn't believe me. I laughed softly at her shocked face. 

"I'm sorry, he's just not my type" I add, rolling my eyes slightly, I looked over to the group again, my eyes staying on Edward Cullen for a second, he was beautiful yes, but really not my type. I liked the blonde boy more.. But not enough to feel giddy inside. 

I watch as Jessica gapes at me, like I had said the most outrageous thing "Not your type? How can you say that, he's dreamy" She sighs happily her eyes on Edward. 

"Not everyone has the same type you know" I say my eyes rolling once more, I couldn't help it, the sarcasm was too strong within me, I turned to Bella to see her still staring at the boy "Bells, what do you think?" 

I watch as my twin hesitates, her eyes shifting between Edward and myself, she looked uncomfortable, which admittedly was normal for Bella. 

"He's....good-looking, I guess" She answers, I eye her up, she was lying. Her words were reluctant, her tone unsure. I shake my head softly not pushing the subject any further, once lunch was over Bella walked to her Biology lesson whilst I walked to my English lesson. I sat with Ben, a boy from the group at lunch, he didn't say much to me, which I was thankful for. 

Once school was done for the day Bella and I walked to our cars, well her truck, my car, I had worked my ass off to get it, and it was my pride and joy, it also meant I didn't have to join Bella and my dad when we first got here, I drove myself, yeah the drive took me a day, but it was fun. 

"Was your day okay?" I asked Bella, I leant against my car and looked at her. Bella nods as she unlocks her car. "It was okay...Biology was kind of weird"

"Weird how?" I ask. I watch as she hesitates for a moment before responding, her expression reflects a hint of bewilderment. 

"Well my partner was" She trails off, her voice becoming quieter as if to avoid any unwanted ears from hearing her next words "Edward Cullen"

"Oh...and how was he weird?" I ask, suddenly feeling overprotected, I looked over to the Cullens in the car park, but Edward wasn't there. Bella glances around, ensuring no lingering eyes or eavesdropping are nearby. She lowers her tone, speaking in a hushed tone. 

"I don't know...It was just strange being paired with him. He barely spoke a word, and his expression looked like he was annoyed by my mere presence, almost like he couldn't stand being around me" She explained. I cocked my head confused, of course Bella would think like this. 

"Aw Bells, he doesn't even know you, I wouldn't worry...I said to Jacob I'd come see him, why don't you come to La Push with me?" I smile softly. A small grateful smile forms on her lips, she looks a little calmer now. 

"No you go ahead, I said to dad I'd have dinner with him at that diner" She explains, I nod and tell her goodbye as she drives off, I climb into my own car and drive out of the wet car park, the rain came down heavy as I drove, I finally reach Billy and Jacob's place, I park my car and get out. 

I hear laughter drifting from the backyard, so I walk around, hoping to find Jacob, I smile when I see him with two other people, I feel a little nervous, but overall I was good with people, the complete opposite to my sister, naturally. We didn't even look alike, Bella looked more like our father, whereas I looked more like our mother, my eyes were blue, Bella's were brown and straight, my hair was darker and curly, like my dad's. 

"Hey Jacob" I smile softly to the boy, he looked so different, I had seen him in passing the day Bella and I arrived in Forks, that was when I promised to come see him. I visited Forks more often than Bella, and with that, I spent more time with Jacob, but each day recently, he looked different...Teenage boys I guess. 

Jacob turns to me, a wide grin spreads onto his face, he tosses the football to one of his friends, the shorter one. Both his friends were grinning at me, their smiles goofy. 

"Hey" Jacob called, running towards me, he hugged me tightly, swinging my feet slightly off the ground, I squealed and held on tightly. 

"Hey, sorry I didn't mean to crash" I say, looking at him as he puts me down, as my eyes flicker to his friends.

"Nah, it's cool, this is Quil and Embry" He says, both boys wave as their name is called. I smile softly to them, feeling a little awkward. I shrug it off. "We're gonna play some ball, you wanna join?"

"Sure" I smile, Jacob smiles in return, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. Quil chimes in excitedly, eager for another player apparently. 

"Hell yeah!" He calls. We play with the ball for a few hours, throwing it to one another, kicking it around, we weren't really playing a game, more just trying to keep the ball in our possession. Jacob, Embry and Quil played enthusiastically, their competitive nature fulling their every move. I keep up with them easily, despite the friendly competition, there's a constant stream of laughter and the banter throughout. Time seems to fly by as we lose ourselves into the game. We finally stop when it starts to get dark, I stop playing smiling softly at the boys. 

"I better get going" I say, it was nearly dark. Dad didn't like it when I was out too late, and I still needed to fill up with petrol. The three boys say goodbye, looking disappointed that I had to leave. I pop my head in and say goodbye to Billy and finally I get to my car. I start driving until I find a petrol station in La Push, I fill my car up and then walk to the little shop to pay, as I open the door I bump into someone, I shake my head slightly and look up. 

"I'm so sorry!" I groan slightly, the boy I bumped in too was muscular, and hurt as I bumped into him. I looked at his face properly, taken back slightly, he was...pretty. He seemed to be around my age, he had long-ish hair, and cute doe eyes. 

"No worries" He says casually, his voice smooth and easy as he grins at me. I say sorry again as I walk past him to pay for my petrol, when I walked back outside, I see the boy again, his motorbike was parked next to my car as he washes the window of his bike. 

"Hey again" I smile softly. The boy glances up from his bike to me, a faint smile appears on his face. 

"Hey" He responds, his attention now away from his bike and on me. He leans against his bike, smirking at me. I lean against my car and blush slightly, his eyes racking over me. 

"Sorry again, for earlier" 

The boy shrugs off my apology, he seemed relaxed and nonchalant, unbothered by our earlier encounter. "It's cool, accidents happen" He says with a casual tone, his gaze leaving mine as he looks over my car, his eyes move over my car before moving back to look into my eyes. 

"Nice ride, that yours?" He asks. 

"Yeah, worked my ass off saving up, but yeah, all mine" I say proudly, tapping the car fondly. The boy looked impressed, a hint of respect in his eyes as he looks over my car again, he lets out a low whistle. 

"Impressive, took me forever to get this bike" He says, patting the bike's seat, the black leather gleamed in the night air. 

"Totally worth the pain though..." I say smiling, I introduce myself, telling him my name whilst smiling at him softly. His eyes sparkled as the moon hit them, it made me feel giddy inside. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Paul" He says in a casual, easy tone. 

"Nice to meet you, Paul" I smile softly "I better get going" 

Paul gives me a small nod, he returns the smile, his gaze lingering over my face for a moment until he spoke again. 

"See you around" He says in a soft, almost wistful tone. There's maybe a sense of reluctant acceptance in his words, as if he wished I would stay a little longer with him. I shook the thoughts from my mind, feeling silly. 

"You too, Paul" I smirk as I climb into my car, feeling the blush creep over my face. I look at him again, leaning on his bike, his arms crossed over his chest as his gaze doesn't stray from me. 

"Later" He says quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of my engine starting up. As I drove home I felt a little flutter of excitement as I thought about the boy I had just met. The memory of the short but intriguing encounter with Paul remained fresh in my mind. I found myself replying the brief conversation in my head, feeling a mixture of curiosity and intrigue about the brooding, motorbike-riding boy. 

I parked my car outside the house, blocking Bella's truck only slightly, when I walked into the house I saw both Bella and my dad sitting in the living room together, I smiled brightly when I saw them. 

"Hey you two"

They turned to look at me to greet me. My dad smiled warmly and Bella gave me a small, soft smile. 

"Hey kiddo" My dad smiled, I rolled my eyes a little at the nickname "Did you have a good day?"

"I did, thank you" I responded, a small blush creeping over my cheeks again. I cursed myself inside, I blushed way too easily. My dad of course noticed, he always did when I blushed. 

"Someone's looking a little rosy. Had a nice time with Jacob, did you?" He asked, I grimace a little when he thought I was blushing due to Jacob. Jacob definitely fit the 'kid brother' category, he wasn't crush worthy to me. 

"Oh yeah, Jacob...Yeah it was fun, I met his friends; Quil and Embry too" I answered, I had momentarily forgotten I had seen the three boys today, my brain was overcome with Paul until dad mentioned Jacob. My dad chuckled slightly at my answer, I felt a little bubble of anxiety, I really hoped he didn't think I fancied Jacob or something, he would definitely tell Billy and I really didn't need that. 

"Just hanging out with the boys, huh? Nothing else interesting happen today?" He asks. 

"No, nothing" I answer very quickly, I then look over to Bella, who was smirking at the conversation, I used my eyes to motion that I wanted to speak to her upstairs. She quickly realises what I meant and gets up from the couch to follow me upstairs. Once we were out of sight from our dad I grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly upstairs to my room, it was directly opposite hers. 

Once in my room I shut the door and looked at her, the blush coming over my cheeks again. 

"I met the cutest guy" I said quietly, still worried our dad could hear us. Bella looked at me confused at first, but at my mentioning of a boy she suddenly looked excited. 

"A cute guy, huh? Do tell!" She grins, as she gets herself comfortable on my bed. I sit in front of her and grin some more. 

"His name is Paul...He's so cute, we spoke for like five minutes, so granted I don't think it counts as meeting someone, but he's cute" I ramble slightly, Bella listens intently, a mischievous look flashes over her eyes. 

"Hm, a cute guy named Paul...And you're crushing on him already after only five minutes?" She teases, a smirk on her face. 

"Yeah" I giggle softly. 

"Must of been a special five minutes"

"Maybe Bells, he's a cute guy I'll probably never see" I mutter a little sadly. Bella and I chat for a little longer until our dad was finally telling us to go to bed as we had school the next day. We giggled and chatted for longer until finally, we both went to bed. 

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@boonalina ha chiesto: Question: Why does Wukong's biblically accurate form have two faces? Also, was there some inspiration for you that made you want to design him like that? (Since I know he doesn't have any canonical Kaiju form in LMK) Also also, DAMN that Kaiju fight was so freaking pretty!! The colors were so well done!

thank you!! He has 3 actually, but in the panels you can see 2 bc the third is facing away from the camera aha.

Anonimo ha chiesto: would you make a Shadowpeach bio parents au zine?

yes I would. But it requires an enormeous amount of organization, plus you need multiple people to organize a zine, from contacting, to marketing, to production, to logistic etc… I don’t have the time right now as I’m already working.

@stro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Head canon that Red Son uses/used to use the ‘rubber duck’ method while working. The rubber duck method is: when making something by yourself you may get stuck/stressed out because you can’t find a solution to a problem. Have a rubber duck on your desk just so you can verbally explain your problem, which could help you solve it by actually hearing it out loud. But a side effect of this is now Red Son will talk to himself while he works, even if it does help it still freaks his parents out hearing him mumbling to himself when they pass his room. Just something I learned recently when watching a video about writing a characters backstory 👍 I thought you might like this too! Bye <3

i know need Red Son just talking about project to a cute rubber duck and MK finding it adorable.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will LBD come back ? Even if it is just in a dream ?

maybe

Anonimo ha chiesto: how old is MK ? Like 18-21 ???

almost 22.

@haru7110 ha chiesto: IS MEI IMMORTAL LIKE MK AND REDSON IN THE SHADOWPEACH AU??? I NEED TO KNOW!! Fornoreasonwhatsoeverobviouslyhahahahaha (angst purposes)

no Mei is not immortal, but I would guess she has a lifespan slightly longer than average bc of her family.

@cutvdo ha chiesto: When you first draw Red Son in his human form he looked small, but later he looks bigger (probably from you getting more comfortable drawing him). I like to think he changed his human form a bit because he found out MK likes big man

this is the best conclusion ever. He would fr fr

Anonimo ha chiesto: Guess you could say MK got his own personal monkey tree

omfg-

@aizieweex ha chiesto: Hey Kyri!!! I LOVE your art, aaaand thanks for the recent repost of my animatic (or animatik?...I honestly don't know which is more correct, I'm not a native speaker at all), I literally screamed, lol (And still screaming). I wanted to ask, how many parts of the comic are you counting on? Do you already have a certain planned number of chapters? Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! How long will the shadow peach bio parents au be?

there will be 9 parts in total. I don’t know the exact number of chapters left but I can assume around 30.

@copyrightedbystarkindustries ha chiesto: Love your art!!! Are you planning on putting shadowpeach au stuff on your redbubble in the future?

Yes I do! But first I need to finish my job which will be more or less on the 20th of January.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK use a glamour to hide some scars or something his parents aren’t supposed to find out about ?

yes

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: When you said during the livestream that MK will have a new outfit when he is magical girl, What do you mean by that ?

that he will eventually own a new outfit as “official outfit” let’s say. That isn’t his temporary fighting outfit he has now.

@magician-kitty ha chiesto: You think Mac will get more flustered now that Wukong’s more muscular thanks to all that weight lifting from the previous chapters?

a little bit yes.

@whotookfinn ha chiesto: Hey!! I’m absolutely in love with your art, it’s so beautiful and wonderful and IM OBSESSED. Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before, but who’s your favorite lmk character to draw?

macaque and Mk, they fluffy.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I HAVE A QUESTION! after your shadowpeach AU will be finished will you do other lmk Au????

nope.

@cjtuy ha chiesto: My question is about tang and pigsy are they married I've always wondered this

no they are not married, but it’s something they have been thought for a little bit. They known each other for years and got together for one. They know they work very well as a couple, and marriage would only be a more “official” way to show their union. It’s on their mind, maybe they will plan it in the near future

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you seen that Brandon Roger's clip where he loses his kid? I can just imagine macaque going through that right now with mk being kidnapped. "Mothers adrenaline is kicking in!!" "have you seen my son, he's about this tall, clearly gay but we haven't had the talk" https://youtu.be/dJJUFrENZ_o?si=lbacsYlJr8XpaDQQ (this is the sound just in case)

LMAO I know that video by heart yes absolutely those would be the parents.

Anonimo ha chiesto: In the Bioparents AU, is Redson actually going to be able to court so Mk in the end after the whole celestial situation?

they will have time to do their stuff after the heaven shenanigans.

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: I hope you are having a lovely day/night and are healthy and well AND TYSM FOR THAT SPICYNOODLES KISS I LOVED IT AND MY HEART WAS ABOUT TO BURST! Anyway I was wondering if mk and Redson parents are gonna have quality time with there Nephew in spirt/potential son in law?

mm yes. Post heaven shenanigans but yes.

@cpazy ha chiesto: About that,

It means that Mac and MK's powers have to do with the moon cycle, like on a full moon they get stronger or something like that? And if there is an eclipse where the moon turns red, their powers would go out of control?

Yes, but the opposite. On a full moon they are weaker, while on a new moon they are stronger.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! Not a question but I just love and ADORE your shadowpeach bio parents au! ❤️ Recently you had posted about LMK fic recommendations, I wanted to recommend "The Constellations Within Us" and it's sequel "Epilogue: Axis" (ongoing) by cloud_somersault on AO3. It's one of my favorite LMK/Shadowpeach fics! The writing and world building are stellar and it includes similar themes as the ones in your comic, like the themes of reconciliation, shadowpeach angst and repairing their friendship and their joint custod- I mean- mentorship of MK! It's a really good fic and I highly recommend giving it a read! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48308065 And again, love your comic so much! Have a great day! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

aaahhhh I will definetely check them out!

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Per ur Bio Parents AU, what happens when a courtnapping occurs, but the person getting napped isn’t actually into the courtnapper, and doesn’t want to be napped? Does courtnapping have a “leave whenever you want” clause or..? (I love ur au akshhenwb)

they are allowed to refuse anytime. If the kidnapper doesn’t allow the he’s a dick

@thecardboardbutterfly ha chiesto: Since everyone is starting to fear for tomorrow, I decided to share my convoluted thought I got yesterday night at like, 3AM to lighten the mood a bit (.3.)~* So Technically, given that Lmk is very much based on Journey to the West, maybe it's not that much of a stretch to call Lmk fan content of JTTW, like some kind of future AU or something. Which means your AU is fan content of Lmk. See where I'm getting at? Because your comic is so popular in the fandom, there is fan content of your AU out there, which is already fan content. Which means we reached a point where we have fan content (fanarts and various inspirations of the bio parents AU) of fan content (said bio parents AU) of fan content (Lmk) of a piece of content (JTTW). The chain is GETTING LONGER BOYS. I personally think it's funny. My apologies for everyone who lost their brain/ last remaining braincell reading this x)

omg. It’s a fan-inception!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Red Son and MK ever have a bad date?

I like to believe EVERY date will have would be comically bad. But I think that’s because they still need to understand that they don’t fall under the “typical demon date” or “amatonormativity” umbrella. The best date they could have is just them training and having lunch later, or them playing videogames or netflix and chill.

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Dumb question but do you remember the scene in lmk where Wukong said he has stage fright? I wonder if you're gonna do something with that knowledge…. Ps: Keep doing your magic queen we love you and your art✌️💅

oh u bet I did

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

──── ୨୧ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 ᯓ★

🍪 — hii my babies!! thank you for checking out my writing! i hope you enjoy it and if you did, dont forget to send feedback!

✮ 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞: ( ☕ ) angst , ( 🤎 ) fluff, ( 🧸 ) humor, ( 📜 ) suggestive ˎˊ˗

𝐎𝐓𝟖

SERIES

music to my eyes (collab w/ @sunnysdiary)

cookies just fucking write event in honor my writers block

cookies 1 year anniversary ask game (time capsule drabbles)

HEADCANNONS

small acts of love from skz 「🤎」

skz as red flags 「☕」

skz as forms of art 「🤎」

FAKE TEXTS

the boys find out you have a cold

pulling the "shes busy" prank

asking the boys "would you love me if I was a worm?"

silly little dad!skz fake texts

jealous!bestfreind!skz telling the reader to not go on her date ◦ hyung line

jealous!bestfreind!skz telling the reader to not go on her date ◦ maknae line

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍・방찬

ONE SHOTS

nothing here....yet

DRABBLES

not the plot ꒰ 400 words ꒱ 「🤎」 ↴

during one of your cuddle sessions with bangchan, you realize that your relationship shares an odd resemblance to twilight—without the entire plot, of course.

you'd never let me fall ꒰ 900 words ꒱ 「🤎」 ↴

bangchan who carries you home while your a little drunk and your feet a lot a bit hurt.

FAKE TEXTS

while you were looking at him, i was looking at you ꒰ mini-series ꒱ 「🤎, ☕」 ↴

❝ secrets i have held in my heart. are harder to hide than i thought. ❞

𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖・리노

ONE SHOTS

so fuckin' stubborn ꒰ 1.5k words ꒱ 「 📜 」 ↴

there were two things in the world that challenged your intellectual ability one: ap us history and two: lee minho. what are you going to do when he catches you cheating, and grabs your thigh, forcing you to give him the answers too.

DRABBLES

sfw alphabet with minho ꒰ 2.7k words ꒱ 「 🤎 」 ↴

FAKE TEXTS

minho gets jealous watching the reader hand her customers cash 「🧸」 ↴

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍・창빈

ONE SHOTS

Nothing here...yet.

DRABBLES

Nothing here...yet.

FAKE TEXTS

🤎 asking out his gym crush

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍・현진

ONE SHOTS

before and after ꒰ 1.4k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕」 ↴

for months you have dealt with constant intrusive thoughts, wondering what life was like before your head was swarmed with anxiety—until one day, you wake up and it isn't your OCD that you remember—it's hyunjin. alternatively: you find hyunjin baking your favorite sweet treat and you fall even deeper in love with him.

DRABBLES

Nothing here...yet.

FAKE TEXTS

Nothing here...yet

𝐇𝐀𝐍・한

ONE SHOTS

doomsday ꒰ 1.4k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕」 ↴

sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. or alternatively: han yells at you after a hard day and has a panic attack because you distance yourself.

so baby, hold my hand now. ꒰ 1.5k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕, 📜」 ↴

you don't think jisung cares about you enough to tell your fans you're dating, fucking. he proves you wrong when he pulls you in on stage, and kisses you in front of everyone.

DRABBLES

midnight madness ꒰ 839 words ꒱ 「🤎」 ↴

you help han shave after a long day, leading to kisses and confessions.

FAKE TEXTS

accidental love confession 「🤎,🧸」

teasing a shy han untill he accidentally confesses 「🤎,🧸」

𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗・필릭스

ONE SHOTS

laughter like honey dribbles ꒰ 1.2k words ꒱ 「🤎, 🧸, 📜」 ↴

an inexperienced felix tries to impress you by forcing his voice deeper. what do you do when it cracks mid-through?

hang the moon ꒰ 4.5k words ꒱ 「🤎」 ↴

going through the ages of time with felix, from when you told him you were pregnant to seeing him braid your baby's hair.

don't cry over spilled milk ꒰ 1.6k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕」 ↴

accidents happen is an easy thing to say when your daughter didn't just dump a cup of milk on your husband's new black carpet and all of a sudden— you can't breathe

pretty like poetry ꒰ 2.7k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕」 ↴

felix always tended to hate the freckles that adorned his face, believing they were blemishes that deserved to be hidden under layers of foundation, but what will he do when you convince him that his freckles were pretty—pretty like poetry?

eat your words ꒰ 2.3k words ꒱ 「📜」 ↴

in a spiral of whiskey-induced stupidity, you claim felix couldn't dominate you even if he tried—oh, how he's going to make you eat your words. 

rewrite the ending ꒰ 1.6k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕, 📜」 ↴

just once, let him rewrite the story; just once, he promises you will never have to watch the same ending again. ( reader with mommy issues let's felix poetically fuck the sadness out of her)

rewrite the ending in every lifetime ꒰ 8.1k words ꒱ 「🤎, ☕, 📜」 ↴

going through the ages of time with felix, no matter how many times your mother knocked you down, he was always there to pick you up—in every lifetime.

pink lemonade ꒰ 1.3k words ꒱ 「🤎」 ↴

felix had always dreamed of the day he could finally gather enough courage to kiss you. even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined it would be mid-sip of your pink lemonade.

DRABBLES

where the hell did you get that? ꒰ 898 words ꒱ 「🧸」 ↴

even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

you're like real?! ꒰ 723 words ꒱ 「🧸」 ↴

you never once thought you would meet lee felix, especially not while watching an edit of his abs

FAKE TEXTS

teasing a shy felix until he accidentally confesses 「🤎, 🧸」 ↴

silly little fake text scenario 「🤎,🧸」 ↴

𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍・승민

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𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 - 정인

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