#and completely satisfied with what i make

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[puckstories]

Boyfriend Headcannons | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Fluff, that's it I think. Edited only once.

Summary; What I think Quinn would be like as a boyfriend (:

Word Count; 3.1k

Author’s note; Enjoyed writing this so much, also considering writing a nsfw version if anyone would be interested. As per usual, any thoughts or reblogs are greatly appreciated (: -Honey

Boyfriend Quinn, who absolutely lives for affection.

He’s not always the most vocal about it, but the way he craves your touch, your kisses, your warmth—it’s in the little things he does. Quinn has this quiet, relaxed way of seeking affection that makes your heart swell every single time. He doesn’t always ask for it with words; most of the time, he doesn’t need to.

You’ve learned to recognize his silent cues by now. Whenever he wants a kiss, he won’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he’ll simply stop whatever he’s doing and turn toward you, his soft hazel eyes locking onto yours, and then he’ll tilt his head ever so slightly, his lips gently pouting in that way that’s both completely endearing and impossible to resist. He’ll just look at you with that silent, expectant expression, waiting patiently for you to indulge him, because he knows you almost always do.

And how could you not?

Sometimes, he’ll be subtle about it—like when you’re both curled up on the couch, watching a movie. You’ll feel him shift beside you, and when you glance over, there he is, his lips pushed out just a little, eyes soft and hopeful, his attention fully on you. It’s a request, his gentle way of saying, "Come here, kiss me." You’ll roll your eyes playfully, but inside, your heart melts every time. You lean in, pressing your lips against his, and you can feel the contentment in the way his body relaxes, the way his hand automatically finds yours and squeezes, as if thanking you without a single word spoken.

Other times, he’s a bit more bold, more obvious—like when you’re cooking in the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables or stirring something on the stove. You’ll be focused on whatever task you have at hand, and you won’t even notice him sneaking up behind you. He’ll come up and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, and before you even have a chance to say anything, you feel it. He presses his lips to your neck, soft and gentle, and then pulls away just enough to turn his face toward you, lips already slightly puckered, waiting. He doesn’t say a word, but his intentions are clear.

You’ll try to ignore him at first, teasing him, pretending you’re too busy with dinner to give in to his unspoken request. But he’s persistent. He’ll squeeze you a little tighter, nuzzle into your neck, maybe even let out a small, exaggerated sigh to get your attention. And when you finally turn your head, there he is again—pouty lips, soft eyes, silently waiting for the kiss he knows he’s going to get. You give in, every time. You can’t help it.

"Okay, okay," you’ll say with a laugh, turning your head to press your lips against his, giving him exactly what he wants. The way his lips curl into a smile against yours tells you just how satisfied he is.

It’s not just the way he asks for kisses, though. Quinn is equally generous when it comes to giving affection, and he loves surprising you with it at the most random times. You could be in the middle of reading a book or scrolling through your phone, completely absorbed, and suddenly, you’ll feel his presence beside you. He’ll lean in, wrapping his arms around you gently, his hands resting at your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug. No reason. No explanation. Just because he can. Just because he wants to.

And it’s those moments that catch you off guard the most—the way he showers you with love so effortlessly, so naturally. He never needs an excuse. For Quinn, giving you affection is as simple as breathing. It’s the way he expresses his love, the way he reminds you how much he adores you, even without saying a word.

It's in the way, he loves being close to you. He always finds a reason to touch you—whether it’s holding your hand, resting his head on your lap, or draping his arm over your shoulders when you’re sitting beside each other. He’s not clingy, but there’s a need for contact that’s just so Quinn—that gentle, understated craving for connection. And you’re always happy to give it to him, knowing that being close to you is where he feels most at home.

When he’s tired, he’s even more affectionate. After a long day of practice or a tough game, you’ll find him seeking you out the moment he steps through the door. He’ll drop his bag, kick off his shoes, and walk straight to you, wrapping you up in his arms without a word. He won’t even need to say he missed you, because the way he pulls you close, burying his face in your neck, says it all. And when he’s feeling particularly worn out, he’ll simply press his lips to your forehead or your cheek, a quiet sigh escaping him as he relaxes into your touch.

And then there are the nights when he’s lying next to you in bed, the room dark and quiet, both of you just on the edge of sleep. That’s when Quinn is at his softest. He’ll roll over, pulling you closer, his lips brushing over your temple or your shoulder, and you’ll feel his gentle pouting, his silent plea for one last kiss before he drifts off. You oblige him every time, pressing your lips to his in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, and he’ll hum contentedly, his body relaxing completely as sleep finally overtakes him.

Quinn never needs to say much when it comes to affection—his actions speak louder than words ever could. The way he seeks out your touch, the way he silently asks for your kisses, the way he gives so freely of himself—it’s all a testament to how deeply he loves you, how much he cares about you.

Boyfriend Quinn, who always does the little things for you.

It’s in the smallest, most thoughtful gestures that Quinn shows his love, the kinds of things that make your heart swell and remind you just how lucky you are to have him in your life.

Take winter, for example. As soon as the first snow starts to fall, Quinn’s mind is already on you—making sure you’re taken care of, even when it comes to something as simple as the driveway or your car. He hates the thought of you standing out in the freezing cold, shivering as you scrape ice off your windshield in the early morning before work. So, whenever he’s home and able to, Quinn is always up before you, dressed in his thick jacket and boots, quietly heading outside while you’re still bundled up in bed.

By the time you’re awake and getting ready for the day, the driveway is already clear, the snow neatly shoveled into piles, and your car’s windshield is free of snow and ice. It’s not something he ever makes a big deal about—he doesn’t even mention it, really. You’ll only realize what he’s done when you look out the window and see the work he’s put in, your breath fogging up the glass as you smile to yourself, heart warmed by his thoughtfulness.

You always try to thank him, but Quinn just waves it off like it’s no big deal. "I don’t mind," he’ll say with that soft smile of his. "I just want to make things a little easier for you." And that’s the essence of Quinn—he’s always thinking about how to make your life better, how to take even the smallest burdens off your shoulders, whether it’s clearing the snow or making sure you don’t have to start your day on the wrong foot.

Then, there are the flowers. Every week, without fail, Quinn makes sure to pick up your favorite flowers when he’s out. It’s not a grand gesture, not some big bouquet delivered to your door—just a simple bunch of fresh flowers that he knows will brighten your day. Sometimes, they’re the ones you’ve always loved: delicate peonies, bright sunflowers, or soft, fragrant roses, depending on the season. Other times, he surprises you with something different—wildflowers from the local market or a mix of colors that remind him of you.

The best part is always when he walks in with them, his face lighting up just as much as yours does when he sees your reaction. He loves the way your eyes widen and the way your lips curl into that smile he adores, the one that makes his whole day feel brighter. "You didn’t have to do that," you always say, even though you both know how much you love it when he does. And Quinn just shrugs, placing the flowers on the kitchen counter or the dining room table with an easy grin.

"I like seeing you smile," he says simply, as though that’s all the explanation he needs. And it is—because, to him, these little moments of joy he brings into your life are worth everything.

It’s the same when it comes to things like the dishes. Quinn is the type of boyfriend who doesn’t just pitch in around the house—he takes care of the things he knows you hate. Like dishes. You’ve always hated doing them. It’s that one chore that gets under your skin, and you’ve made it no secret that scrubbing pots and pans is not your idea of fun. Quinn knows this, and so even on nights when he’s the one who cooked dinner, he’ll always make sure to handle the cleanup, too.

"Go relax," he’ll say, waving you off when you try to help. "I’ve got this."

You’ll protest, of course—after all, he’s already done the cooking, and it doesn’t seem fair for him to do it all. But Quinn is stubborn in the best possible way. He’ll roll up his sleeves and start running the water, ignoring your half-hearted attempts to convince him otherwise.

"You hate doing dishes," he’ll remind you with a smile, "and I don’t mind them. Plus, you always do so much for me." And that’s Quinn—always thinking about balance, about making sure you’re taken care of. He knows how much you appreciate the little things, and to him, doing the dishes after dinner is just another way of showing he loves you.

And then, there are the texts. When Quinn’s away for away games, his schedule is packed, and the time zone differences don’t always work in your favor. But he never lets that stop him from staying connected with you. No matter how busy his day gets, no matter how late it is, he always makes sure to send you a good morning and goodnight text, without fail.

Sometimes they’re simple—“Good morning, baby. Hope you have a great day.”—just a little reminder that he’s thinking about you, even when he’s miles away. Other times, they’re more playful—“Wish I was in our bed, I miss your icicle feet”—a teasing note to keep things light even in the middle of a long road trip. And when he’s too tired to string together a full sentence, it’s just a quick “Miss you” with a heart emoji, but that’s all it takes to remind you how much he cares.

He’ll always send these texts right before he crashes into bed, no matter how late or how exhausted he is. And when you wake up in the morning, knowing he’s already thinking about you from wherever he is, it never fails to make your heart skip a beat. It’s the small things like this that mean the most—how, even in the chaos of his life, Quinn makes sure you know you’re never far from his mind.

Boyfriend Quinn, who loves taking you on dates.

Whenever he has an off day, the first thing that crosses his mind is you. He always makes sure to check in with you first, sending you a quick text during the day or giving you a call, gauging how your day is going and whether you’re feeling up for it.

"How's work today? Not too tired? Feel like going out later?"

You never have to guess if he's planning, because you know Quinn's always thinking about how to make the most of his time off with you. It’s his way of creating balance in his life, something steady and beautiful amidst the chaotic whirl of hockey schedules, travel, and games. And even if you’ve had a long day at work, the thought of spending the evening with him—of getting out of the house, hand-in-hand, with nowhere else to be but together—always gives you the energy to say yes.

Most of the time, the two of you keep things casual, finding comfort in the familiar. Your favorite go-to is a small diner just a short drive away, the kind of place that feels like a second home. The staff knows your names, and there’s always that corner booth waiting for you two, tucked away enough for a little privacy. It’s not fancy, but it’s yours. The menu is simple—burgers, fries, milkshakes—but it never fails to hit the spot after a long week. There’s something cozy about it, something that makes you both feel grounded. You’ll sit across from each other, sharing fries and talking about everything and nothing, laughing over inside jokes that no one else would get.

But occasionally, Quinn likes to change things up. There are times when, instead of texting you about grabbing dinner at the diner, he’ll tell you something a little different: “Dress fancy tonight. I’ve got a surprise for you.” You can almost hear the excitement in his voice, even over text.

When Quinn decides to take you somewhere nice, it’s an event. He puts thought into every detail, planning a reservation at a restaurant you both love but don’t visit often—maybe that elegant spot downtown with the candlelit tables and soft jazz playing in the background. He’s a romantic at heart, even if he doesn’t always show it in obvious ways. On those nights, he wants to make sure everything feels just a little more special.

One of the best parts is the little ritual the two of you have before your fancier dates. Even though you live together, Quinn always insists on getting ready in the guest bedroom, leaving you to get dressed in the room you share. It’s his way of adding an element of surprise, a way to keep things exciting. He loves the idea of seeing your outfit for the first time when you come downstairs, just like on your earlier dates, when everything was still new.

The guest bedroom becomes his own little prep space. He’ll spread out his suit jacket or freshly ironed button-down on the bed, taking his time to make sure everything looks just right. Quinn isn’t the type to obsess over his appearance, but on these nights, he pays a little extra attention to the details—whether it’s making sure his tie is perfectly knotted (though, he rarely wears one anymore) or his cologne is subtle but present. He knows how much you love when he dresses up, and honestly, he loves seeing that look in your eyes when you see him standing there, ready for the night.

Meanwhile, in your shared room, you’re just as focused, choosing the perfect dress and making sure your hair and makeup are done to perfection. There’s a thrill in getting ready separately, knowing that in just a few minutes, you’ll come downstairs and have that little moment of reveal. It’s a simple tradition, but it always makes the evening feel a bit more magical.

When you finally step out of the bedroom, your heart always flutters with anticipation. You make your way downstairs, and there he is—standing by the door, looking impossibly handsome in his suit or tailored shirt, his eyes brightening the moment they land on you. It’s like time stops for a second. Quinn’s not one to gush, but the way his lips part slightly and that small, slow smile spreads across his face says everything you need to know.

"Wow," he’ll say softly, his eyes taking you in as if he’s seeing you for the first time. "You look... amazing."

You can’t help but smile back, your cheeks warming at the compliment. "You clean up pretty well yourself," you’ll tease, though you can’t deny how much you love seeing him like this—dressed up, standing there with that look of admiration in his eyes.

He steps forward, closing the distance between you, and without a word, he’ll reach for your hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss—just a little gesture to avoid messing up your lipstick, but one that makes your heart skip a beat every time. It’s these small, quiet moments of affection that make Quinn’s love feel so real, so genuine.

And then, off you go, stepping out into the evening together, hand in hand, as the world seems to fall away. The restaurant is just a short drive, and the conversation flows easily between you, filled with laughter and teasing. When you arrive, the ambiance of the restaurant is perfect—low lighting, the hum of quiet conversations around you, and the soft clink of glasses and silverware. But for you, the real magic of the evening isn’t just the atmosphere or the delicious food—it’s the fact that you’re with him, that Quinn has gone out of his way to make this night special for no reason other than wanting to spend time with you.

Throughout the meal, he’ll reach across the table, his fingers brushing against yours, or he’ll lean in to whisper something that makes you laugh, that private smile playing on his lips. He loves these moments—the ones where it’s just the two of you, away from the rush of life, enjoying each other’s company in a way that feels intimate and timeless.

And when the night is over and you’re both back home, the magic of the evening doesn’t fade. Quinn always makes sure to cap off the date in the sweetest way possible. He’ll pull you in close, his arms wrapping around you as he presses a kiss to your forehead, whispering something like, "I had fun tonight," in that casual, endearing way of his.

[russo-woso]

Comment || Arsenal x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning mention of bullying, mental health problems, mention of suicide

Summary You accidentally reveal why you don’t interact with your team

A/N this is a sadddd and angsty one so buckle in

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N, you’re coming to the restaurant with us, right?” Katie asked, seeing you try to scurry out of the room without anyone noticing.

Unfortunately for you, Katie saw you and was curious whether she’d see you at the restaurant that night.

To celebrate the end of the year and Christmas, the team had organised a meal out at a local restaurant, nothing much but enough to satisfy the whole team.

You hesitated a bit, you also unaware of your own answer.

You see, you hadn’t always had the best experiences with a team.

Your previous teammates had made a few comments here and there about you.

She doesn’t deserve to get minutes

Why did the club even sign her

Shittiest player I’ve ever seen

Drop her back down to the Sunday league

At first, they were just small remarks that happened every so often, but then it turned to 24/7.

In the changing rooms, over text, on the pitch. Everywhere, anytime.

They were bullying you.

And even when you brought it upon the manager, he just shrugged, ‘that’s banter for you’ he had told you whilst laughing.

Maybe you were just being sensitive. Maybe you were taking it the wrong way. Maybe this was how a team was supposed to play.

From that moment onwards, you thought it was normal.

You didn’t complain about it anymore, just bottling up your emotions so they didn’t have to see it.

It wasn’t until a very poorly played game that you realised just how damaged they’d made you.

You had played the final four minutes of the game.

When you ran onto the pitch, your team was already losing 4-0.

And although you’d impacted the game massively and had prevented two goals in them four minutes, you were entirely blamed for the loss.

You had dreaded walking into the changing rooms after, all your teammates angry at their performances but somehow blaming it on you made it a lot better.

One of your teammates had squared up to your shaking body, their finger pointing at you.

Your breath became uneven as you closed your eyes in dread.

“You were shit today! You were the reason we lost! You were a let down today. You made us lose! Do us all a favour, Y/L/N and fuck off. We don’t need you on our team! You just fuck up our play and make us fucking lose! Nobody likes you, Y/N. You’re a shit player!” She screamed, the rest of the girls agreeing. She finished shouting at you, but was not finished without pushing you to the floor.

You put on a strong face, standing up and grabbing your stuff before walking out.

You walked for miles in the rain, no car, your phone dead, just you and your thoughts.

You don’t remember much from that night, you’d passed out on some bridge for most of it.

But you remembered one thing.

You remember laying on the bridge, your body fighting for consciousness and thinking would it be so bad if you were to never wake up?

Would anyone actually miss you?

You had your mum left but she mainly focused on your older brother more - he’s a lawyer and had kids - no more explanation needed.

You were so close to completely giving up, so close to letting ending everything.

You used all your strength, pulling yourself up and taking yourself over to the edge of the bridge.

The river underneath was violent, the water crashing against its beds with purpose.

You started counting down in your head, dunking it with your heartbeat.

3… 2…

“Dear! What are you doing?” A voice exclaimed from behind you.

You turned with watery eyes to see a woman, 65 maybe?

You looked in her eyes, a solace look in them.

“Please… look at me. I’m a complete stranger to you. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. But what I do know about you, is you have so much to live for that maybe you don’t realise you have. Take a look around. What do you see?” She began, taking a few steps towards you.

“Bushes, the river, trees.” You listed, taking deep breaths steady your breathing.

“Trees. Look how they’re blowing in the wind. They’ve got no control over themselves. They’re being pushed around and they can’t do anything, but one thing that they are doing, is having a tiny bit of strength to keep them standing. A storm may have big impacts but at the end of the day, they go away. What you’re going through now is just a storm, I promise. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Go travel, go to London, go somewhere you’ve never been before. You’re just stuck in a storm, a bad one, but at the end of everyone is sunshine.”

You listened to her words, taking into account what she was saying.

Slowly but surely, you stepped back from the edge, collapsing into the womens arms.

You’ll never forget that night.

The woman, you didn’t even find out her name, but you knew she was your guardian angel that night.

And although you didn’t completely believe her words, she was right.

You were in the middle of a passing storm.

Not only two days later, you were sat in your managers office being told you were going to another club.

You were given a list of clubs that were interested but one stood out massively, a London club.

You were doing what the woman told you to do, you were going to London.

Which leads you back to the conversation with Katie, your Arsenal teammate.

“Umm… I’ll have to see how tired I am.” You lied, making up a random excuse.

“You said that last time, Y/N.” Alessia pointed out, a playful smile on her face, a completely innocent one which meant no harm.

“And the time before that.” Kyra then added, gently knocking her shoulder into yours.

“Please come, Y/N. I barely know you, it’ll give us time to get to know you.” Steph explained

You hesitated between yes and no.

“Okay. I’ll be there.” You finally said after a few moments.

Everyone cheered, telling you what time to be there and how excited they were that you’d said yes to going.

Maybe these girls aren’t as bad.

—

You were one of the first ones to arrive at the restaurant, not wanting to be late.

Katie and Caitlin were already there and called you over.

One by one, the team filled the table, a buzz filling the air as everyone chatted to each other.

You sat quietly at the end of the table, having nothing really to say.

“What’re you doing for Christmas, Y/N?” Alessia asked, obviously realising no one was talking to you.

“Nothing much. I’ll probably get a few snacks in and watch some…” you began but soon slowed down your words as you set eyes on someone from across the room.

There, sat your guardian angel, your lifesaver.

“Y/N?” Alessia asked, confused but followed your eyeline to see the woman. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t seen her in months.” You mumbled to yourself but Alessia also heard.

“Who is she?”

“She saved my life.” You responded, not knowing it would lead to you revealing your secret.

“Oh my god…” Alessia whispered, realising it was a big moment for you seeing her again. “Is she a doctor? Were you ill?”

“No.” You shook your head, your eyes not leaving the woman. “My old team, they used to make comments about me. It started with a few - what I thought were harmless - comments but they continued coming. Over message, in the changing rooms, on the pitch. They made me feel like I didn’t belong there - that I didn’t belong on earth. After the match against PSG—” you began

“—The one where you played a few minutes?” Alessia questioned, you nodding in response. “You played incredible that match. You completely turned the game around.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. But after the match in the changing rooms, I got blamed for the loss. My old teammate pushed me to the floor and the rest of them laughed at me. I ended up walking into the rain and walked for miles. I collapsed on this bridge at some point and I decided to go towards the edge. I was counting down in my head. My heart wasn’t racing, I think it was the calmest I’d felt in years. It was what all my teammates wanted so I was going to do them all a favour. I was going to… I was on seven when I heard a voice behind me. It was her. She saved me.” You explained, looking back to Alessia but seeing 25 sets of eyes on you.

Most of the girls had tears in their eyes, your story hitting them hard.

“That’s why it took so long for to come out with you. It wasn’t any of you personally and I’m sorry if it felt like that but I don’t think I can ever trust teammates again.”

“Y/N, don’t say sorry.” Leah’s breathed out, leaning over the table to take your hand in hers. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I know it might take some time to realise but not all teams are like them. If you can, can you please trust us. We want to show you what being in a true team feels like.” Kim told you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“We’re here for you, Y/N. Here at Arsenal, we’re not just a club, we’re a family. Whether you like it or not. Some of us - Kyra - can be annoying sometimes but at the end of the day, we’re a family, and that’s the most important part. We’d like nothing more than to be your family from now on.” Lia added, sending you a smile.

“A family, huh? I think I’d like that.” You said, a smile appearing on your face.

“Enough of that now. That’s your past, it’s time to think about the future. And I’m not having you all alone on Christmas so you’re coming with me to my family on Christmas.” Alessia stated confidently, not giving you any choice.

“Alessia, I can’t, it’s your—”

“Ah, no — remember we’re family.” Alessia told you, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Family.” You whispered quietly, smiling to yourself.

You took another look over to the woman.

She was still talking away to the man she was with but managed to catch your eye.

She sent a wink and a smile over to you.

You took your eyes off her for seconds and when you looked again, she was gone.

You never knew her name, and you didn’t know who she was, but you couldn’t be more grateful.

Not only had she saved your life that night, but she had also brought you a family.

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

Simon Riley is an enigma—a brooding, complex man with a shadowed past that he can’t escape. You’re just an ordinary person until he claws his way into your life and you can't help but give in to him. The only problem is that you try to keep things casual, while Simon's never been one to settle for that.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 3

(He longs to be) Close to you

***

You freeze, heart pounding, the moment shattered. Who the fuck is that? You think to yourself, panic creeping in. Another knock then a familiar, playful voice from the other side of the door.

“Bitch! I know you're home!”

“Oh my God. Ishta.”

You completely forgot about your little watch party with her. This can't be happening now. Of course it's happening right now.

“Hm, that a girlfriend I don't know about?”

Simon murmurs, nuzzling his face to your neck.

“You need to go.”

Your voice is low, urgent, but it only seems to amuse him. His hands wrap around your waist, pumping his hips upwards, rubbing himself against your soaked underwear.

“What, you're kicking me out? Just like that?”

He nips at your neck, making you yeep. He tightens his hold, long arms locking you in.

You tense, trying to wiggle from him but him and his stupidly defined arms aren't budging.

“I'm serious; you need to leave, now.”

You twist in his arms, your anxiety growing as Ishta's knocking gets louder. She's never been patient.

You can feel his lips curve into a smile.

“You're tense, should relax a bit.”

“Relax?! Oh my God, I'm gonna kill you.”

You snap in a hushed tone, yanking yourself free (well, more like he finally relents and lets you go). You tug your shorts up while he follows suit, much more leisurely than you. He quips while letting you drag him towards the fire escape,

“Can't believe I'm the other woman, thought I was special, angel.”

“You're not making this easy.”

“Mistresses rarely do.”

Simon smirks, while you pull him to the window. Ishta knocks again, louder this time.

“Stop jerking off, the ice cream is melting!”

Simon snickers and you push him through the window onto the fire escape. His large frame steps out, stretching out while he turns to you.

“What? No kiss goodbye?”

“Simon!”

He doesn't budge until you lean out the window, planting a quick, chaste kiss on his scared lips. His hand cups the back of your neck, practically shoving his tongue down your throat, before you wrench yourself away.

“Bye.”

The words come out harsher than you mean while you shut the window, watching him slip into his place, not trusting him to sneak back into yours.

Ishta's voice whines from behind your front door. You smooth out your clothes, pasting a sheepish, wide smile. You take a deep breath before opening your door.

“Hey girl! Sorry I-”

“Was jerking off thinking about your neighbor? I know girl. Get that nut in friend.”

She empties her tote, sets some wine bottles down and grabs two cups from the kitchen before bending to sit on the couch. You wince watching her try to sit where his bare ass was.

“Oh! No don't-”

She looks at you curiously, frozen mid-squat— your brain scrambling to find something remotely plausible.

“I spilled tuna juice there earlier.”

She narrows her eyes at you, searching your face. She must be satisfied with what she sees because she shrugs and moves to the other side.

“Can't smell fishy. Got a date later.”

She pops open a bottle, pouring a generous amount into each cup. You grab the one she offers and take a seat on the arm of the couch.

“A date, huh? Is it that finance guy from last month?”

She rolls her eyes, turning on the TV.

“Oh God, no. He was so fucking annoying, trust fund baby.”

You laugh a little, grateful for her not pressing you on the couch thing.

“So who's the lucky guy?”

She waves her hand vaguely, her attention already on the TV, looking for a show.

“Met him at the park. He was jogging—shirtless, obviously—and tripped over his own fucking shoelaces. Adorable. Total himbo vibes.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling into your glass.

“Thought you liked nerds.”

“That's the thing,”

She turned to you, grinning like a fool.

“Ok so, we were talking about showers,”

“Naturally.”

“Naturally. Anyways, he starts going on about different hypotheses of 'the shower curtain effect' with this dumbass smile on his face. I'm trying not to stare at his tits and just ask him if he wants drinks before I start drooling. Obviously, he says yes, and here we are!”

She finishes her glass and helps herself to another. You lean closer to her.

“So what's the plan? Drinks, talk about nerdy shit, and then stumble into his place and ogle at his star wars figurines?”

“First off all,”

She raises a finger.

“He’s an artist, so get it right. And secondly, he's Scottish. So like, the accent makes everything hotter.”

You hum curiously.

“My apologies, I clearly underestimated his international flare.”

“You did. Also, you're welcome for letting you live vicariously through me, by the way.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, oohh my goodness. Thank you for your graciousness.”

You say in mock appreciation, hand over your heart. Her eyes twinkle when she winks at you.

“Freely granted, my dear. I'll text you all the juicy details.”

“Lucky me.”

You say dryly, swirling your wine glass. Ishta lightly hits your knee.

“Look at us. You got your English guy, I got my Scottish one. Just gotta snatch up an Irish and Welsh one, and we've got a whole set!”

“Please be serious, girl. Also, he's not ‘my guy’, he's just a neighbor.”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. We'll see how long that lasts.”

***

You've been more moody lately. From Ishta unintentionally cock-blocking you, to work being particularly demanding, and finally, Simon terrorizing you relentlessly.

Ever since ‘the incident’ he's been on you like white on rice. He'll stop you in the mornings in the foyer and casually talk about how he came to the thought of you last night or stand behind you in the elevator and grind up against you, laxly apologizing.

“Sorry. It's just such a tight fit here, right angel?”

You silently thank God Simon has the sense to pull these stunts when no one else is around to witness his brand of debauchery (he doesn't, you just got lucky no one's there when he pulls that shit).

You're barely holding onto your patience. Every word he says, every deliberate touch grates on your nerves. He has you on edge, dangling by a thread. A simple nudge could send you tumbling— yet he never quite gives it. Instead, he leaves you like this, toeing the line.

Waiting. Waiting on you to make the jump.

It kind of surprises you, given the whole…incident. You expected him to follow you into your apartment one day and finally consummate whatever twisted, simmering thing you had going on. But he didn't. Seemed to enjoy making you squirm.

***

You could almost forget about him during the day. Almost. Work has been a circus lately, thanks to your boss—the museum curator who seems to thrive on chaos. She’s brilliant, yes, but she’s also impossible. Barking orders, demanding perfection, treating every missed detail like a personal betrayal. You spend your mornings running errands and your afternoons fielding phone calls from artists who need their egos stroked. The only moment of reprieve is when you’re in the gallery itself, away from the madness, the artwork pulling you into a quiet, timeless space.

But even that doesn’t last. Today, you spent hours installing a new piece—a massive, fragile sculpture—and as soon as it was in place, she decided it needed to be moved six inches to the left. Six inches. By the time you got home, your nerves were frayed, your patience long gone.

He’d been waiting in the lobby when you arrived, as if he knew you’d had a long day. His presence suffocating, his voice a low murmur in your ear as he stood too close, his hand brushing your hip when you reached for the elevator button.

“You look tense, angel.”

“Simon, please.”

“‘Please?’ Wow, must've been really bad today.”

He chuckles to himself, like he's so fucking funny.

You rub your eyes, the tired dryness a reminder of the day you'd had. He sees this as an invitation to step behind you and wrap his arms around you. Large frame towering over you, long arms sliding around you.

“Not in the mood for this today, Simon.”

You mutter, void of its usual bite.

You don't even have the energy to push him away when he plants a kiss on the side of your neck, softer than the last time his lips touched your skin.

“So sweet when you're tired out. Wonder if you're like this after-”

The elevator dings and you pull away, pushing his head off your shoulder and trudging to your place. At this point, you're too drained to care about his games, too tired to rise to the bait.

If he wasn't going to stop playing, wasn't going to do anything but pussyfoot around, you had better things to do—like collapse on your bed and sleep for 12 hours straight.

You reach your door and fumble with your keys, cursing under your breath when they decide now is the perfect time to be elusive in your bag.

“Need help?”

You don’t jump. You’re too used to that voice coming from behind you, low and amused. His words echo in your head more than you’d like to admit these days.

“No.”

You say, sharp enough to bite through the air as you finally fish the keys out and shove one into the lock.

It sticks. Of course, it sticks.

He says something you ignore while he leans against the side of the doorframe, watching you struggle. Your head lands on the door with a soft thud, forehead pressing against the cool metal.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Not like you to let me have the last word.”

“I’m too tired for this.”

“For what?”

“For your bullshit.”

You spit, jiggling the key rougher than necessary.

Simon hums, entertained.

“There she is. Was worried I lost you for a minute.”

The key refuses to turn. Between him looking over your shoulder and the fucking door mocking you, your patience starts to shred, gossamer-thin.

When the door finally opens, you turn to him.

“Do you ever shut up?”

He shrugs.

“Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“You call this fun?”

“Watching you fight with a door? Yeah, a little bit. Had my money on the door though, unfortunately.”

You swear his grin is almost audible under that mask.

Your eyes narrow, heated.

“Don't you have somewhere else to be?”

He doesn't miss a beat.

“No, actually. Not tonight.”

“Of course not, when do you ever?”

You mutter, yanking your keys out of the lock.

“Just keeping the schedule free for you, love.”

“Free to annoy me?”

“Something like that.”

Your eyes drift from his face down to his arms crossed over his chest. His compression shirt doesn't help, the material stretching in a way that feels obscene.

Then while he watches you stare, he flexes subtly.

It pulls a laugh out of you, the sound slipping out before you can help it,

“Whore.”

He pulls his mask down, showing off his own smile. His canines sharp and slightly crooked, but somehow it makes him more attractive. Like he doesn't just accept his imperfections, but wears them proudly, fully aware of their charm.

“Just for you, angel.”

“Your persistence is coming off pathetic.”

You huff half-hearted, crossing your arms.

“Doesn't seem to bother you much.”

Simon goads. You think this is the happiest you've ever seen him.

“It does.”

You lick your teeth, feigning irritation. He mirrors the movement, finishing it off with a smile that makes your face hot.

“Go on then,”

His voice drops lower, thick and languid, molasses poured slow on a hot day.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

It's quiet for a moment. He tilts his head, eyes glinting and the edge you've been teetering on crumbles underneath you, all reservations and restraint gone. You grip the strings of his hoodie and pull him down to your face.

“You're insufferable.”

“Yes.”

“A tease.”

“Mhm.”

“Worst neighbor I've ever had.”

“Ouch.”

He says, though his tone is anything but wounded. If anything, it sounds downright gleeful.

“Makes me wanna do awful things to you.”

You say in a hushed tone, a newfound energy pumping through your veins. The space between you grows smaller as you tug him even closer, his hands instinctively finding your waist, steadying both of you.

“Yeah,”

His voice is low, molten. A scorching heat that flows from his mouth down your chest and stomach.

“Probably use those pretty little hands, leave marks. Bruises I'd feel every time I breathe.”

You twirl the strings around your fingers, leading him into your place. It feels like tugging on a leash tied to a dangerous dog— wild and unpredictable, tethered to you and you only. He catches the door before it slams shut, closing it without looking, dark eyes honed in on you. Makes your stomach do flips.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

His silence is answer enough, a smirk playing on his face. You muse, shoving him toward the couch with a playful push,

“Maybe I'd keep it simple, knife to the heart. If I could find it.”

He spreads out on the cushions, pulling you to him, making you straddle one of his thick thighs.

“Sounds painful, tell me more.”

“Maybe I'd tie you up. Make you beg for your life.”

When you say that, he groans— an honest-to-god groan and his grip on your hips tightens.

“It’d be hard, getting through all that muscle and bone,”

He grabs your wrist, making you press two fingers on the hard, fast pulse right under his jaw.

“Be quicker and easier to hit it right here. Faster way to go out.”

You cock your head to the side, biting back a moan feeling the beat of the vein under his skin go impossibly fast when you hum.

“Think I'm gonna go easy on you?”

His response is instant, almost desperate if you thought he was capable of that emotion.

“I hope to God not.”

He wraps himself around you, pressing you up against his solid frame like he's trying to meld his body to yours.

***

He's been at this for long, too long. He hasn't even taken off either of your pants, all too happy to have you grinding your pants against his denim. It's got you so pent up, you're half crazed, panting in the crook of his neck and mumbling pleas for relief.

“Want you, Simon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head and you groan in frustration.

“Been a real brat lately, can't reward that kind of behavior.”

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

“Sound so pretty, begging for me.”

You're trying anything at this point. Anything but ripping his clothes off. Or yours.

“Don't you wanna feel good too?”

Your tone is so dulcet, it's almost too sweet in your mouth, words dripping with a carefully calculated innocence. You play with the waistband of his jeans, before you can get too far he takes hold of your wrist.

“I know what you're trying to do.”

There's a pause while you pull back to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Is it working?”

“Hmm…”

“Simon!”

You huff, almost whiny. He relents, only a little, bouncing you on his thigh once before forcing your hips to grind down harder on him. It makes you lean into him again, he presses a soft kiss on your temple, the kind of gesture that feels almost like he's mocking you with a false sense of soothing. As if he feels bad for you—his touch gentle but somehow condescending.

“Poor thing, could've gotten it sooner if you wanted to. Closed mouths don't get fed, you know?”

He sounds amused, lips still brushing against your temple. Your mouth finds its way to his neck, he lulls his head back, giving you more access to it. It's sweet, tender, starting at his collarbone and moving up slowly until you get to the artery he made you press up against earlier. The moment your teeth press up against it, he comes undone.

“Gaggin’ for it that bad?”

The sound of his belt clicking makes you downright giddy, you lick his neck, feeling his heartbeat under your tongue.

“Mhm…”

He grabs your hand to shove it down his pants and your brain goes static for a moment.

“Had me waiting all this time, and now you want it?”

It's growled into your ear, something about the way it's almost spat out, mean—it sends jolts of electricity between your legs.

“C'mon, show me how much you missed it.”

Your face heats up at his words and he lets out an entertained huff.

“He missed you too, ya know.”

A breathless giggle escapes you when he flexes, making his dick jump in your hands. You pull him out of his pants, eyes going wide. You've felt how big he was before, but seeing it was a whole different thing. Made it all real. Something about the way his pink tip peeked out made you laugh a little, a fleeting thought of him blushing everywhere, even on his dick.

“What?”

He furrows his brows a little, curious.

The truth tumbles out of you before you can stop it. You think you've made a mistake until you see him. His face is unreadable at first, and you brace for some sharp quip or a look of annoyance.

But instead, Simon’s reaction is… different. His ears go pink first, followed by a deep flush creeping up his neck. You want to laugh again but he creeps a hand up your spine to the back of your neck, guiding you into light kisses. You still manage to slip out a few giggles in-between, a smile creeping up across his face. It's such a warm moment, you almost forget about holding him until he twitches in your hands.

“Got the prettiest laugh.”

“Is there anything that you don't think is pretty about me?”

You ask, teasing him.

“No.”

His answer is quick, unwavering, and so serious that it makes your breath catch. You search his face, expecting the usual smirk or a sly remark, but there’s nothing there but honesty. He clears his throat, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes before he tries to mask it.

“Right, let's get these off.”

He guides you off him so you can stand, he shimmies your pants and underwear off. Once you kick off the fabric pooled around your feet he leans forward, breath hot on your mons.

“Missed her.”

He says so quietly, almost to himself.

“Your pretty girl?”

You run a hand over his buzz cut, and he grips the sides of your bare thighs.

“Yeah…my pretty girl.”

A wet kiss on your most sensitive spot makes your legs tense up. He traces slow, indulgent circles, like this was more for him than you. The tension in your body mounting with every flick of his tongue.

He goes on like this until your knees almost give way from a quick, hard suck. He holds you up with a strong grip under the crease of your ass.

“Think you can stand on your own for a minute, love?”

You’re far past the point of throwing a smart remark his way, your body humming with the tension he’s left simmering under your skin. Instead, you nod quickly, eagerly.

“So good for me, angel. How'd I get so lucky, hm?”

It’s less a question and more an indulgence, the kind of thing he says to soak in the moment while he shoves his pants down to his thighs. When he pulls you towards him, guiding you to settle on his lap, just brushing his tip over your slick entrance, you follow without hesitation—soft, pliant, docile.

“Such a sweet thing. Only for me, right?”

Before you get to answer, he drags your hips down, pushing himself inside you. The stretch borders on discomfort—not just because it's been a while, but because he's thicker than anyone you've ever had before.

It's all so overwhelming— his voice, his touch, his body—all glut and heavy with want. The weight of it crashes over you, leaving you dizzy, untethered. Every word he speaks seeps into your skin, warm and lingering, while his hands, firm yet reverent, treat you like something both fragile and fiercely desired.

When he slides you down more, you tense up. Thighs flexing, clenching around him. It draws a curse from him,

“Fuck…yeah, only for me.”

The moment is so much softer than you imagined it to be—aside from him trying to lick the inside of your mouth. It's coos and words of encouragement,

“Look at you, taking it like a big girl,”

“Bet you needed this as much as I did,”

Big, rough hands gliding up and down your body, squeezing gently. Slow, deep strokes sink into you until you're a shaking mess, arms wrapped around him, clinging onto him like he's your lifeline, mumbling nonsense into his neck. He's taking full advantage of the moment, of course, his voice low and dripping with amusement as he watches you come undone for him.

"Gonna be like this all the time now, pet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Only like this for me, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You whisper, the words spilling out as easily as your control.

“No one else gets to touch you like this, huh?”

“Uhn-uh.”

Your lips brushing against his neck, your heartbeat hammering against his chest, sweat slick against the skin.

And it goes on like this, making empty promises with the devil. Signing yourself away with no hesitation, no second thoughts. Because he kisses you so tenderly it makes you flutter everywhere. Because the way he lifts you up just to buck his hips up into you makes your brain leak out of your ears. Because here, pressed against him, drowning in his voice and touch, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

He hits that spot that makes your nerves taught. You're a string wound up too tight, his name spilling from your mouth again and again, each time more ragged, a little more whiny and desperate, until it finally snaps. You shatter, the force knocking the air from your lungs while he throws his head back, your name leaking out like it's the only word he knows. You're overstimulated, thighs burning and shaking while he ruts into you. You're pushing him with flimsy arms, whining about how ‘it's too much’. That only seems to egg him on, though, spurring him to murmur filth between honeyed kisses,

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else,”

“Split you apart everyday and you'll fucking thank me for it, won't you?”

He doesn't even look for an answer from you, more than happy to bask in the mess he made of you. A few more strokes has him choking mid-sentence, sinking so deep inside you think he might've been serious about splitting you apart.

It's quiet for a moment, save for the heavy breaths shared between the two of you

“You with me, angel?”

He sighs, his lips press against the skin right over your heart. He lingers, sucking softly, the kind of pressure that's going to leave the skin tender for days—a reminder of him.

You nod, barely able to find your voice, but he waits-patient, his hands wrapping around yours.

"Yeah…”

You finally manage, squeezing a hand that completely engulfs yours, brushing against it with your thumb.

"Good,"

He whispers, his lips brushing against yours again.

"That's all I need.”

And in the back of your mind, as his touch lingers, there's a small fleeting thought:

Oh, you're fucked.

prev |

[purpamint]

Even after two years this is still one of my favorite comics I’ve made, and since it’s the holiday season, here’s the text version of it I wrote for it today that has some fun bonus details that I’m pretty happy with:

Back when Kris and Noelle back were both kids, they were opening presents while sitting by a Christmas tree. Kris is wearing their red horns that they supposedly wore a lot as a kid. Kris opens their present and reveals a green and yellow striped sweater. After Kris opens their present, Noelle cheerily says, “Merry Krismas! Dess and I worked together to make you this sweater!!”

Kris looks in awe, exclaiming, “WOAH!! so cool....”

Noelle gives Kris a thumbs up with a happy expression, saying “why don’t you try it on?”

“ok!”

Asriel and Dess are both looking at Kris now that they’ve tried on their new sweater. The sweater is visibly way too big for Kris.

Asriel is smiling, but his expression betrays the fact that he is a bit worried that the sweater doesn’t fit Kris, however he is still trying to stay on the bright side.

Asriel expresses, “It’s a bit oversized…”

Dess, focusing more on Kris’s enjoyment of the present than the size, looks to Asriel and assuredly states, “They seem to like it!” She proudly stands with her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile.

Kris wears their sweater with a delighted smile as if they were as content as one could be. It was as if in nothing the world could be better than as small as sweater made just for them. It was as if they would be fine if this one moment lasted forever.

Dess, continuing what she was stating earlier, laughs, “Hah! It doesn’t matter if it fits as long as they like it!” Clearly pleased at how much Kris seems to enjoy their present, she remains unbothered by the minor issue of the size. Asriel, less concerned after realizing Kris’s genuine joy at the sweater, finally agrees with Dess, albeit still reserved “I guess so!”

Many years later…

The world is completely black. It feels as if so much time has passed. The darkness only brings back those warm distant memories. The darkness feels like daydreaming with eyes closed. Those dreams feel real yet so fragile…

Noelle sees Kris while at school

Casually starting a passing conversation with an old friend, she laughs, “Woah Kris… talk about a flashback!! Fa-ha!”

It was like she was suddenly propelled millions of years back in to the past, reminded of both the embarrassing and the bittersweet moments.

Caught up in the moment of remembrance— almost as if all the years of distance between the two teens had suddenly melted away to potentially forge some sense of reconnection— she continues, “You haven’t worn that since…” Quickly trailing off.

Reality comes back like a tsunami of ice water over a blacksmith’s freshly re-heated piece of iron. The once re-shapable metal is now chilled and harder to change.

Now, the darkness has faded out.

Noelle couldn’t help but wonder about Kris sometimes. Why wear that sweater…? Not that it’s a bad thing, but it hasn’t been worn in ages…

With an inquisitive expression, she politely asks, “Any reason why you’re wearing it?”

Kris sits at their school desk slightly leaning forward laying their chin on their right hand. Their other arm lays on their desk as if they were partially crossing their arms. They do not look directly at Noelle. They almost appear as if they are not looking at anything at all— or at least not towards anything in particular. They have an introspective expression. Like they are thinking about old friends, old memories, old dreams… at least that’s what it seems.

“I guess I have been feeling nostalgic lately…” Kris replies. An indirect response like that from them was not unusual.

…but…

It seemed like that they were being honest.

It’s generally hard to read them, it was even hard to read them back when they were more open…but Noelle is so familiar with them that it is almost natural, even if the skill has a little bit of rust.

Kris looks softly at their sweater. It’s been so long since they’ve worn it, but they still remember the day they got it. They wished that day would last forever back then. Sometimes they still do. It felt so big back then, but now it matches their size much closer, even if it is a bit baggy in some places. But it’s honestly more comfortable that way… they never minded oversized clothes anyways.

They loved it so much because it was made with care, just for them.

It’s their favorite sweater…

It fits almost perfectly…

Little deltarune comic for the holidays! (About the Holidays too, wow) This took a bit longer to make than expected because I chose to make it on paper, so I had to do a bit of color adjustments to make it look right in the photos. Despite it’s lateness hope y’all like it! :D

[am-i-interrupting]

i need more jinx x reader omega verse PLEASE

AN: I was going to do her first heat and have smut but then I realized something. Her first heat would not have been something she would have celebrated. It would take several heat cycles before she was ready to have sex during it and be bubbly and clingy during it. So have some angst, I guess. I didn’t mean to do this. It just happened.

Having Isha in her life put a completely different spin on things. It made her feel safe, secure, comfortable. All the things she felt with Silco and you but different.

The voices in her head were quiet, mostly. The world didn’t feel stacked against her. This child looked up to her for guidance and care. That made her feel special.

She’d taken to building a little home of blankets and pillows. It was almost like a nest.

In the distant part of her memory she recalled her father doing something like this. A smell, just in the tip of her nose of something sweet. Warmth surrounding her from all sides. Everyone piled.

She shook the memory away as she fixed a pillow that had fallen out of the cave of blankets and wonders. She inhaled deeply.

Your smell, warm and spiced like honey and cinnamon. The perfect remedy for a sickness. Isha’s smell, sticky and sweet like candy. Sevika’s smell, not present here but lingering in the layer, like welted iron and amber. The faint, slowly disappearing scent of Silco, something she could only describe as minty moss.

She closed her eyes and savored that last scent. When she opened them, her vision was blurry.

She sniffed. Her fingers dug into her tear ducts.

“We’re back!” your voice rang out into the layer. Isha’s giggling echoing behind it.

Jinx looked up. A small smile came to her lips as she saw the two of you. Isha carrying boxes of takeout food that nearly obscured her vision while you carried a far heavier box filled with bits and bobbles of trinkets the duo could use.

“Great! I was starting to get bored and hungry!” Jinx said as she sprung up. She took some boxes from Isha and knelt down in front of her face. “Do you know what happens when I’m bored and hungry? Not good things I’ll tell you that.”

She wiggled her finger in front of the girl’s face before she pressed it to her nose. It scrunched up but her smile gave way to her faked annoyance.

Jinx couldn’t help but laugh as she placed the boxes down. She scooped up Isha and threw her into the newly fixed pillows. She spun around as she jumped into the cushions with her.

“Give me!” Jinx said, making grabby motions towards the boxes as looking at you.

You shook your head but passed her the boxes regardless as you arranged some of the bits into their proper places.

She and Isha tore into the food. Jinx couldn’t help but be annoyed and confused though when the food didn’t help the feeling of hunger she had.

She chewed on a piece of fried batter that had been at the bottom of one of the boxes. It dispersed with a satisfying crunch.

She stretched for her cup. Isha grabbed it from her hands and gulped down the liquid quickly, leaving little for Jinx. She just sighed as she brought the cup to her lips. When it was empty, she tilted it back and took some ice.

It was cold against her tongue. Why did she feel hot then?

Maybe she was getting sick. When you laid in the pile next to the girls, your scent of honey and cinnamon cleared her nostrils and let her think clearly. She must be getting sick.

In the morning she awoke hot and sticky. Her stomach hurt. Definitely sick.

She brought herself up on shaking arms and you nuzzled your face against the warm spot left by her head.

She wrapped her arms around her torso. It was cramping. It hurt. It hurt like nothing she’d ever felt before and she was so hungry but the thought of food made her feel sick.

She stumbled to her feet. She grabbed her cup. Just melted ice. She let it crumble to the ground. It clanked and clanged but she paid it no mind, unaware as you began to rise due to the noise.

She fell into her chair. Her hands went to the desk as she stared at herself in the mirror.

Her skin was paler than a corpse. Her eyes had a crazed look in them that was different to when she was suffering from her mental conditions. She was sweating.

She looked at herself as she curled in at another cramp and whined.

That caused Isha to wake. Her hair a mess as she blinked in confusion. She rubbed her tired eyes.

Jinx didn’t notice you until you were behind her. “Jinx,” you said carefully as you placed a hand on her shoulder.

She whined again, something in her turning and thrashing.

You removed your hand and looked at it carefully, drenched in sweat. You looked between her and your hand. You inhaled deep. You noticed your own pupils dilate in the mirror.

“I’m going to take Isha to Sevika,” you said as you slowly backed away.

Jinx’s hand grabbed your wrist. “Don’t leave me,” she said, looking like she was on the verge of tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay, just give me a second,” you said. Her hand tightened around your wrist. “I’m not leaving, I promise.”

She let go.

You grabbed a piece of paper and one of the many markers and started writing. You explained the situation to Sevika, leaving out how heavenly Jinx smelled (like cotton candy and raspberries) and focused more on the urgency of the situation.

You had heard of people presenting late. That wasn’t unheard of. However, the latest you’d heard was sixteen, not near twenty.

You handed the paper to Isha. “You remember where Sevika lives?” She nodded. “Good, take this to her and don’t stop until you get there.” She looked at Jinx worried. “She’ll be okay.” She spared one more glance and then sprinted out of the layer.

You wrapped your arms around Jinx from behind. “You’re going to be alright,” you said to her.

“Why do I feel like this?” she asked.

You brushed her bangs out of her hair. “You’re presenting, dear,” you told her.

Her head whipped around so she wasn’t just looking at your reflection in the mirror. “What? How is that possible? People present when they’re thirteen, not twenty!”

“People present when they’re ready,” you said. You nuzzled against her neck. “Come on, let’s go to the nest.”

“No, that’s not a— Janna, it is a nest,” she said, realization coming to her like metal to a magnet.

She’d been nesting. She’d been nesting since she was born. All the way back when she was insistent on helping her father with his own.

She was marking herself. Not anyone else, just herself. She’d been making sure she was marked her whole life. By using Silco’s shampoo, by stealing your jacket.

She’d been showing signs the entire time and no one noticed, not even her.

Now that it dawned on her, the feelings didn’t disappear but they subsided just a bit. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much now that she knew the cause.

She let herself be led to the nest she made.

You cupped her face in your hand as the two of you sat. It took her a moment to realize you weren’t just rubbing your thumb against her cheek but wiping away tears.

She was crying. Why was she crying?

She doubled over. You guided her head to your shoulder as she sobbed.

She wanted you here. She wanted Isha. She wanted Vi. Hell, she even wanted Sevika. But most of all, she just wanted her dad. Not her father but her dad.

Silco wasn’t here to guide her through this. She needed his advice, his hold on her hand. She needed Silco to walk her into this next portion of her life.

“It’s not fair!” she said through a scratchy voice.

“I know, honey, I know.”

[mixingandmelting]

Winter Series Day 6: Teenage Crush

Summary: how he's in love with you featuring the original Robin trio

A/N: was i emotional when i wrote this? yes, no thanks to remembering jason was the sweetest and cheerful robin at the height of 4' 6" in-canon

Robin!Dick:

Daredevil, gremlin child, and the nightmare of all of Gotham’s villains was what Robin!Dick was known for. But at the end of the day, he’s just a boy that’s completely gone for you. He can’t and doesn’t let you catch a break as he constantly pokes you from starting the silliest arguments to putting on a show of his routines he used to do back in his family’s circus. Not once does he approach you like a normal person. One day he’d be creeping silently behind you, suddenly asking what you’re doing right into your ear while peering over your shoulder. The next, he would simply stand in front of you and wait for you to notice. He pouts when it seems like it’s taking you too long, though he does appreciate getting the time to engrave your form and the other expressions you make when he’s not annoying you. All of this, he does constantly, almost every other day in fact, because in his mind and heart, you are the best thing to ever enter and be in his life. It amplifies his haughtiness, silliness, goofiness, and sass as he does everything in hopes that he could strike a chance with you. So when he comes back from a long mission and you express any indiction of concern and how you missed him, his smile stretches from ear to ear, his heart fluttering from how you care for him. Of course he would probe to hear more, his desire of wanting to hear your thoughts on him but he still manages to stop himself from overdoing it. During the times when you pull an uno-reverse card on him unexpectedly, he gets extremely flustered and flushed from his “impress to woo the other person over” backfiring big time and instead, he’s falling for you all over again.

Robin!Jason:

Despite his height, he’s considered the cheerful and bright one as he steals the hearts of the Titans after a single mission, and makes Batman of all people laugh. Have you in the room and  he lights the whole place from how much he glows. Before heading to you, he sniffs his uniform to make sure it doesn’t smell like cigarettes. If it has the faintest scent of it, he goes back to the cave to change into a new one, doing so even more after learning how second-hand smoking can cause cancer. At some point he gets fed up with sniffing and changing so many times, he starts going through all the tricks to quit smoking even faster. Time to time, he brings something small, making excuses including the classic “saved an old lady crossing the road” on his way as a rose gets placed into your hands. He’s notably chattier and laughing more around you, enjoying whatever the two of you talk about even if it’s mundane and boring. He can’t help it when your passion, laughter, excitement, and smiles are infectious. His love for you is so pure that he’d be satisfied with simply being by your side, his one wish being that he can bring you as much happiness as you do for him. Time to time when you get a burger combo meal, seemingly to believe that’s his favorite based on the one time he mentioned about his memory with it whether it’s to welcome him back from a long while or randomly he gets fuzzy, warm, and the heart palpitations while he shares the meal with you. You make him feel that his life is complete, that he won the whole world which motivates him to become a better person, a “good guy” as they all say, so he can stay with you even if he ends up not being your end game.

Robin!Tim:

He’s known as the smart one as well as the one that sacrificed his chance of normal for the sake of saving Batman and currently, Gotham. You were never part of his plan as he already envisioned how his life as Batman's sidekick would look like but here he is, completely smitten for you as he figures out ahead how to approach you when he catches you hanging out. Image training, standing in front of the mirror and going through his lines and poses until Alfred caught him doing it once. Now he does it after locking his door, double, triple checking he was going to get his little gig right so he can look cool when he appears in front of you. Take the “yapper and listener” meme. That’s his relationship with you where he’s serenaded by your voice and won’t ever get sick of listening to it. If you were to express anything you need or want, he gets it and leaves it where he was standing or sitting with a small note attached. He’s also guilty of abusing his alternative identities and disguises so he could extend his time with you even outside of being Robin. Not that you would ever know as he has no intentions any time soon to out himself. There’s no other reason for him being this extra other than that you are the one that gives him the comfort and relief he needs. You are his solace that makes his self doubt disappear and everything he has done worth it. So when you do any skin ship including the scandalous hand holding, he’s equivalent to the red on his suit and mute from how conscious he gets from feeling you extremely close to him. Also gets him to forget to breathe but that’s not the issue here.

[woozinhos]

Hiiii can you do wonu breeding kink pls :(

ahhh I love this little series I hope you enjoy <3

Wonwoo's eyes darken as he looks down at you, his mind filled with the thought of breeding you.

He's always had a secret breeding kink, one that he's never quite shared with anyone before. But with you, it's different.

As he thrusts into you, he can't help but imagine what it would be like to fill you up with his cum, to make you his in every possible way.

He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he imagines you swollen with his child.

"You'd look so damn beautiful carrying my baby," he growls, his voice filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

He quickens his pace, his hips snapping against yours as he loses himself in the fantasy.

"I'd fill you up so many times," he pants, his breath hot against your ear. "Make sure you're always full of my cum, always carrying my baby."

You look up at him, your voice shaky as you try to form words.

"Wonwoo," you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure. "I want it... I want you to breed me."

Wonwoo's eyes widen at your words, a mix of surprise and excitement washing over him.

"Fuck," he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment as he processes what you just said.

He leans down, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me right now," he whispers against your mouth.

He kisses you hard, his tongue claiming your mouth as he pours all his pent-up desire into the kiss.

He breaks away only when he absolutely needs to breathe, panting heavily as he looks down at you.

"I'm going to breed you so well," he growls, his eyes dark with promise. "You'll be mine forever, carrying my child inside you."

He continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more and more erratic as he gets closer to the edge.

"I'm going to fill you up with my cum until you're overflowing," he grunts, his fingers digging into your skin even harder. "And then I'll keep going, until you're completely and utterly bred."

His pace becomes brutal, his hips snapping against yours with a force that leaves you gasping for air.

He's lost in the moment, his mind consumed by the thought of breeding you, of marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice low and guttural. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispers, "You're going to carry my child, and everyone will know that you're mine. That you belong to me and me alone."

His teeth scrape against your skin, leaving marks that will remind you of this moment for days to come.

His breath is coming in short gasps now, his body tensing as he feels his orgasm approaching.

"I'm going to fill you up," he growls, his voice strained. "And I'm going to make sure it takes."

He lets out a low, guttural moan as he finally reaches his peak, his body shuddering as he spills himself inside you.

"Take it," he grunts, his hips stuttering as he empties himself into you. "Take all of it, baby."

Even as he comes down from his orgasm, he continues to move inside you, prolonging the moment as much as possible.

He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he savors the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

"I'm making sure it takes," he whispers, his voice filled with determination. "I'm not stopping until I know for sure that you're carrying my child."

He slowly begins to pull out of you, his eyes fixed on where your bodies are connected.

He watches as his cum slowly starts to leak out of you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Look at that," he says, his voice filled with pride. "You're so full of me, it's like I'm already breeding you."

[neverending-shenanigans]

Look, I don't disagree with you, per se, but here's the thing: this is all just in theory. The game fails to show this in a meaningful way or in a way that is satisfying from an RPG point of view.

Everybody matters for the success? Cool. How so? If I literally leave them behind in the lighthouse for the rest of the game, it makes no difference.

I love Emmerich, dearly, but what exactly does he do in the Veilguard? Is the game saying the few time he talks to corpses are so vital to our success that the world is doomed without him?

None of the former games (to my knowledge) implied that not recruiting someone screwed everything over completely.

And if the game wants me to see that this is different, because the stakes are higher? Well, game, show me directly what happens if I don't recruit people, make them as vital as you claim they are. And have a number of quests where I can feel their absence if i don't have them around as the experts for necessary tasks (and I mean more than these funky little dagger mechanics or that one final battle, alright). Let me experience how much worse off everyone is if I don't help them. Or if I give them bad advice, if I make them objectively into worse people.

Tie their personal narrative more strongly to the main issue. Balance them out a little. Have Zara's blood magic be a vital part of the ritual Elgar'nan is preparing. Have Isseya actually blight a griffon or two for Ghilly and let them do some hefty damage to the Anderfels or elsewhere. Let Rivain be under siege by the Dragon King and his mind-controlled beasts. Make everyone's issues matter equally with options for real Bad Outcomes.

RPGs used to be about the consequences of my actions, about having choices with actual impact within the game narrative itself, and those were more than just one bad ending option.

This would also be a way to make sure that "these are professionals" can come across. By showing me what happens if they aren't. If we aren't - if Rook isn't.

Don't just have the narrative put up a red tape that says "you cant, because you shouldnt".

Not to mention that I frankly think it does the characters a disservice by saying that "they are professionals" somehow means that they dont have issues, they have to like you, they have to grow as people.

Bioware had a fantastic system in DA2 in the rivalry system which allowed for much more interpersonal nuances. This would have solved a lot of issues here, even if we are in a set-up in which characters will stay with you no matter what. They stay with you for the cause, but they hate you personally. How many professionals feel like that about their Boss and co-workers?How many professionals are great at exactly one thing but still assholes anyway?

And I have seen it be thrown around that "Rook cannot be an asshole because Varric wouldn't have picked them". That feels like cop-out to me. And does not make sense for narrative consistency. He is not some sort of infallible Thedas Jesus. There is precedent for him being wrong about people.

Varric recruited Hawke for his brother's expedition and Hawke had much more potential/freedom to be an ass (to the point in which Varric might end up as a drunkard for it, because Bioware used to include consequences). Varric was as much part of the disaster/tragedy/failure of Kirkwall as the rest of that crew. Varric didn't see Anders' plan coming, either. He also did not spot Solas' plan from miles away.

Varric might have picked Rook up for their moment of bravado that the game always provides, because he was running our of time to stop Solas. Nowhere does it say he might not have ended up regretting that choice a little if you turn out to be a competent ass. Wouldn't that have been a neat thing?

If we and the characters got to experience... regret?

"I wish you could be mean to the companions" it's a story about professionals

"I wish you could have a choice to not recruit companions" it's a story about every single person being vital to success

"the companions are too nice to eachother" it's a story about professionals

"rook puts out people's squabbles too easy" it's a story about a boss who actually cares and doesn't buy pizza to get people to work unpaid overtime

"I wish you could recruit a therapist for the team" based and valid

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm using the word "ridiculous" a lot

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Dec 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - OMG they’re so fucking cute I can’t stand it. It’s too much. Everyone is adorable. Including the father. (That said, I wouldn’t recommend watching Naughty Babe with your dad. That’s a big leap there, cutie pie.) The 10 minutes of holding hand negotiation and then finally walking together across campus was truly fucking fantastic. This show is GLORIOUS. Now we also know when it finally does move from dreams to reality, that these two can kiss.

Actual name of this show?

How to Train Your Seme

Speaking of names, Fah's brother, whose name I forget, is now going to referred to by me as Sarcastic Cupid. Because that is his role in this narrative. I love him very much.

On a completely different note, and I know this is not that kind of show, but this is me so I have to say it, if these two ever do have sex it’s gonna take them hours. They just gonna spend half the night negotiating. Which is kind of tantric, but my goodness would they even make it into bed?

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - i just love this show!!!! so happy to have this one my screen. The dads have to save the little musical family! So cute! And illegally pretty.

Love Sick 2024 (Sun iQIYI) ep 14 of 15 - They substantially took steps to fix Phun‘s dad character in the new version and I really like that a lot. I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here. 

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Why is this absurd show so damn good? When Sun has to beg it’s just too much. It’s too sweet and aching and hurtful and wonderful. Catnip = the sex herb trope was not anything I’ve ever thought I would see in my lifetime. Okaaay now. Relax little show. Too far.

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 12 of 16 - The extended version is clearly better. But I’m not gonna bother to pay for it. Again, I’m liking the new couple more and more each week. I still prefer the first couple of course cause Pond but it’s enjoyable enough.

Note: I'm super grateful for those posting them as clips here on the hellsite. Because man can these boys kiss!

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 4 of 12 - this show is so entirely and utterly ridiculous. I don’t even know what to do with it or myself. Or what to say. Carry on, I guess?

Also I don't know what GMMTV is smoking to tease this one, but I'll take a hit next time they pass the BL bong.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT?) ep 7 of 24 - I am living for Pond & Sand. they are pretty much all I care about. Yes including the upcoming couples. I just want pond sand. sure the main couple was fine it was a perfectly serviceable ending to their arc such as it was. All in all I enjoyed this episode big smile on my face most of the time.

Secret Love (????) 1-60 of 81 eps - Someone dropped a cut together of episodes one through 60, and I actually quite enjoyed it. It’s a total soap opera and very much a pulp. But I kind of love that right now. Frankly, 1-60 is a completed story arc. If you want that. I will probably watch the whole thing if anybody ever uploads it or it turns up grey anywhere. But this was quite satisfying. Ridiculous but charming fluff about two stepbrothers, who aren’t really stepbrothers, who have loved each other forever and are reunited under trying family circumstances. 7/10 passes the sniff test

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 7 of 11 - ARGH. The pain. what an absolutely stellar show. I can't believe we are only on ep 7!

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 13 - I love it. This show is fantastic. It’s classic BL, it’s hitting all of the tropes, and it reminds me of some of the best that Taiwan has done in the past. I’m charmed and enjoying it immensely. Taiwan isn’t great on endings so I’m reserving judgment, but what a current highlight to my week. I like these boys so much. Please be kind to me and them, Taiwan?

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - Ever 4, a sophisticated AI combat robot, becomes the personal butler/bodyguard to Luo Bu Shi, a spoiled yet lonely young heir. And I like it a lot. Odd with a very old fashioned yaoi feel. Also actually kinky (not Thai kinky), I mean it's no JBL but I like it. Dommed into reading = hot. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 12 of ? - I love our new rescuer, he v cute! Nice addition to the cast. I hope we get more of him. Otherwise, this was more of the same. I’m getting pretty fatigued with this bully stuff at this juncture.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 8 end - A lackluster adaptation of some already questionable content, that managed to lose all the limited charm and massive chemistry of the original. It was a mistake to do with less runtime not to mention put both climaxes in the final episode.  Too much all at once. By dividing up the two rescues and keeping them exclusive to their respective couples they highlighted the formulaic nature of the narrative and weakened the foundational friendships. The best thing about the original was the friendships both between the semes and the ukes. By having each boyfriend simply rescue his own boy without help, we didn’t get to see the depth of those friendships at all. For this reason, this installment was weaker than the original. My final feeling at the end was simply “OK whatever” not a ringing endorsement. 7/10 but barely that.

It's airing but......

Spare Me Your Mercy (Thurs iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - on hold because it went out side genre conventions and I'm not sure what to expect. I'm waiting until it ends, then if safe I will binge.

Be Moon - Falling for my enemy's son (China YT) movie from HBD Studio airing in short bits but I couldn't find any this week.

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai ???) - has been picked up to air on WeTV, or something? Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, initially un-subbed, then subs happened by which time I got distracted. The first episode seems to be only six minutes long. It is very pulp. But it is intriguing. For now it's to the wayside until someone tells me it landed safely. Occasionally Thai pulps want to be edgy and it's not a good look on them.

0.5D (Japan ????) 4 eps - Supposedly a completed short. "Sales ace, Sada, has a secret that only his junior, Daiki, knows. He has pretended to have a gf for years, resulting in him being a virgin. But now Sada has fallen in love. Confused, Sada seeks advice from his junior." I sense another queer Cyrano De Bergerac. I can't find and it's good very poor review so Imma stop looking. Info here.

The Renovation (Thai mini One31) 2 eps - Writer turns his blossoming romance with holiday resort owner into a novel. Eh is it worth trying to find?

It Ended But?

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun Viki) paused at eps 9-10 of 12 - I have been told the ending is OK if not great. I’m gonna hold off for a bit.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Final still to come:

12/29 Sangmin Dinneaw (Thai ????) ??eps - trailer Childhood friends (Thai & Korean) reunite after being apart for ten years. As the boys reconnect, their bond matures and feelings of romance begin to develop, in Thai.

Impression of Youth (Taiwan ????) ??eps - rumors are this is supposed to start this month.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

10 years later and it's still one of BLs best cuddles (Love Sick)

Always like a seme who asks permission. (Perfect 10)

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[howi99]

A knight second chance 6

Penny: *crying, clutching at Ruby, overwhelmed by the emotion she's processing*

Blake: *sigh* We won't get anything from her, she's a complete wreck. We should try searching for him.

Ruby: *looking up at Blake* And what about her? I can't just leave her alone.

Yang: *taking her scroll out* I'll call the school, see if they can drop bumblebee in Vale.

Weiss: *looking at Penny* What could have happened to leave her like that...

___________________________________________

Ironwood: *blinking* Penny disappeared?

Winter: We don't know exactly what happened but we believe an individual named Jaune Arc, a student from Beacon, was responsible for her sudden disappearance. The last video feed we received was of Penny trying to help said student during what seems to have been a PTSD episode.

Ironwood: *frown* PTSD you say? Not a panic attack?

Winter: *shaking her head* I... Saw enough soldiers and huntsmen to differentiate one from the others, sir. If anything, the students didn't seem to be aggressive, only... terrified.

Ironwood: I see... I'll ask the headmaster of Beacon for more information.

Winter: *saluting, leaving the room*

___________________________________________

Roman: *looking down at the teenager with a smirk* Well well, what do we have here? A stray dog perhaps?

Jaune: ... *Slowly looking up, smiling with dead eyes* You will die, Roman.

Roman: *laughing* And what makes you think i will-

Jaune: *cutting him, still smiling* Trivia, you, the White Fang, all working together with Cinder to bring Beacon down. What do you think will happen afterward?

Roman: *frowning* How did you-

Jaune: *Laughing, cutting him again* Know her name? Know you are working with Cinder? *Start walking toward Roman* Better yet, you should ask yourself how i know you were planning to attack the dock in 2 days.

Roman: *taking one step back, still trying to act as if it didn't surprise him* Maybe you are working with Cinder? It wouldn't be the first time she tried testing me. See if i'd break under pressure.

Jaune: *sees the little twitch in Roman's eyes, smile as if nothing bad could happen* Hush hush now, if you attack me, your umbrella might break~.

Neo: *jump backward, looking at Roman worriedly*

Roman: Tsk *goes to attack Jaune with Melodic Cudgel, but the knight easily grab the cane and aim it a Neo*

Jaune: *now in front of Roman* Tell me, Roman, are you afraid of Cinder? *Grabbing Roman by the suit, who was trying to jump away* Don't go, it's impolite to leave a conversation. *Smile genuinely* I'm not here to hurt you.

Roman: *trying to remove himself from the knight grasp* Let me go!

Jaune: *sigh, using his semblance to share his emotions with him* I need your help, Roman. You are a thief, not a killer. And if you continue like that, both you and Neo are going to die.

Roman: *Feeling the sincerity of Jaune* ... Neo, put your weapon down.

Neo: *aghast by the mere idea*

Roman: *shaking his head* It's ok Neo, trust me.

Neo: ... *Slowly put Hush on the ground, still weary of the teenager*

Jaune: *Releasing Roman with a satisfied smile* Good... Sorry for the way i was acting, but high emotional state help my semblance second effect.

Roman: *Sitting down on one of the stolen dust containers* ... *Take a cigarette from his pocket, light it and start smoking* Talk, we don't have all day.

Jaune: *nod and make signs for Neo to approach* Now... *Smile* Tell me, what is your favorite fairytale?

[gloomwitchwrites]

For Long Distance Fun - John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, mutual masturbation, gift giving, sex toys, oral sex (male & female receiving), vibrator, swearing

Word Count: 820

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Mutual Masturbation)

For Christmas, John bought the two of you a new sex toy. He wants to try it out.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

"What—" You laugh softly, and then glance up at John. "What is this?"

Inside the unwrapped gift is a pink and white box. The label is clear. There is no mistake or denial of what this is, but you’re startled by the gesture. This isn’t something you thought John was interested in.

“It’s for the both of us,” replies John. He shifts, scooting closer to you on the sofa. “Interested in trying it out?”

“Right now?” He nods. “Right here?” you continue, glancing around at your living room.

Gently taking the box from your lap, John transfers it to his.

Long Distance Relationship Sex Toy, says the box. The vibrator for the woman is called “Eve” and the male counterpart is called “Adam.”

“Why not,” shrugs John, removing the pink and white box from its packaging.

Breaking the seal, John delicately removes the toys and the instruction manual. The light on the Christmas tree sparkle against the plastic as he sets it aside.

“Thought we could use these when I’m away,” says John, opening up the user manual. “See here.” He points. “They connect to an app on our phones. We can use them simultaneously even if I’m on the other side of the world.”

John lifts the Adam toy. “I fuck this.” He then lifts the Eve toy. “And this fucks you.” He smirks. “We can play at the same time.”

“Across the world?” you ask, unbelieving.

“All I need is bluetooth and a couple bars of service, love.”

You shake your head. “You can’t take that on missions.”

John laughs. “Course not. You think I’m going to take this out during a firefight?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, teasing.

“Certainly would startle the enemy,” chuckles John. “But in all seriousness, it doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

“I don’t understand.”

John’s brow creases, and there is a mischievous hunger that wasn’t there before. “I can fuck this on my own time,” he replies, lifting the Adam toy. “Record the whole thing on the app. And then when you log in, you can have your toy vibrate along to what I recorded. Doesn’t have to be at the same time.”

With his free hand, John starts to undo the buttons on your pajama top, revealing skin. His hand slides inside, cupping one breast as his mouth presses to your throat. You groan at his touch.

“Want to have a go, love?” he murmurs against your throat.

His lips against your skin make you tingle—sending a little shiver down your back. Gently squeezing your breast, John’s hand descends to toy with the elastic of your pants.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your response breathy and wanton.

John’s hand slides under the elastic band and tugs. Shifting, he places the box on the sofa and goes down on his knees before you. With another tug, your pants are gone and John is draping your legs over his shoulder.

“Follow the instructions while I prep you, love.”

Heat instantly radiates up your neck and enflames your face. You grab your phone the moment John’s tongue touches your clit. It’s hard to concentrate as he tongues you. The words on the instruction manual are blurring together with every stroke.

“I—oh. John.” He hums against your pussy. “It’s done,” you gasp.

He draws back, lips glossy. Reaching behind him, John removes his shirt with one hand. As he stands, John shoves his pants down, the two of you falling onto the couch completely naked and entwined.

John reaches for his phone the second you take his dick in your hand. You’re aching for this, and getting to taste him for a bit is perfectly satisfying. As you throat him, John taps away at his phone. He’s hard, almost throbbing in your mouth by the time he’s drawing your head back.

“Come here,” he growls. You ascend, draping yourself over him. “Open your legs, love. Just like that.” Holding the Eve toy in his hand, he guides it to your pussy, pushing the head of the rabbit vibrator in.

“Take it,” he rasps, and you grab on to the handle. John takes up the Adam toy, easing his dick in. “Ready, love?”

You nod and John thrusts.

The rabbit vibrator moves inside you, and you cry out immediately at the shock of sensation.

“Don’t move. Stay just like that,” he groans against your cheek, hips thrusting into the toy. “Fuck. I can feel you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around the vibrator as it buzzes along with John’s movements. It’s almost too much too fast. John’s grunts aren’t helping nor is his heat. Turning your face into his chest, you cry out his name, the orgasm rising fast, extending outward until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s unending rocket fuel that’s sending you up to the stars.

“I can fucking feel you,” he says again, this time groaning loudly, indicating his own end.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[tinkywinkyschauffeur2]

Ooh long post warning! There’ll be a TL;DR at the end but I feel in the mood to ramble.

There’s a neat little book called 101 Things I Learnt In Architecture School by Matthew Frederick that i fell in love with many years ago. I found it again recently and I was surprised at how many of the principles applied to writing and world building. There’s one part in particular called Being Process Oriented which I find myself coming back to whenever I feel hesitant to make any changes that will affect the canon and I find that it helps a lot.

(Below is a direct quote from the book. If it sounds like something anyone would be interested in there’s a copy on the internet archive, or you can support the author and buy the book too! :) )

Being Process Oriented

1. Seek to understand a problem before chasing after solutions

2. Don’t force fit a solution to an old problem onto a new problem

3. Remove yourself from prideful investment in your projects. Be slow to fall in love with your ideas

4. Make design investigations and decisions holistically (addressing several aspects of a design problem at once) rather than sequentially (finalising one aspect of a solution before investigating the next)

5. Make design choices conditionally - that is, with the awareness that they may or may not work out as you continue toward a final solution

6. Learn how to know when to change and when to stick to previous decisions

7. Accept as normal the anxiety that comes around not knowing what to do

8. Work fluidly between concept-scale and detail-scale to see how one informs the other

9. Always ask what if regardless of how satisfied you are with your solution

OC wise, these will apply mostly when you’re making deliberate choices in their story /major world building but 5 and 7 I find can apply pretty much all the time. 3 frustrates me but more often than not is true. However if something isn’t sitting right with your OC you’re more than welcome to change it. No one will change it if you don’t. You are ultimately the only one in the world who knows the complete extent of the lives that you hold in your head. Think of it like sculpting. Things will start out rough but eventually once you really know your OC I find that they tend to just tell you their story themselves, and all the fine details start slotting into place.

You are free to retcon as many things as you like. Things that I have retconned and then look back on are like artefacts of a person that I used to be that suited my artistic tastes at the time but I’ve since grown and they no longer fit. If you find yourself changing things it could be because it works better in the story or in the design, but also it could be that you’ve grown, and your understanding of character development has grown too.

Your OCs accompany you through this life, and naturally they’ll pick up some of the debris. Let it happen. Backspace and erase and wash away and crumple up as much as you need. Recycle the things you cut off and make the most beautiful sculpture of odds and ends. A scrapbook, a time capsule, of you and them.

TL;DR - Don’t be afraid to change things, because you’re the only one who can. Your OCs won’t draw or write themselves :)

I have a question for people with ocs cause I have this weird thing that’s blocking me from creating any art with mine, that if I don’t have their story finished then I’m afraid to draw anything related to the current story cause what if I change it? what if I change the characters designs again and then all the previous art is outdated? so the question is — does it bother you too or do you just go with the flow and draw them regardless? it might be a stupid thing really but it’s always in the back of my head when I think about my characters and universe that if it’s not finished then it’s not worth sharing with others

[boofeine]

Heyyyy I really love your writing and I think it fits the members very well

I am not sure if you do these types of request but are you okay with writing headcanons on Jeonghan's personality? Like just his personality in general? Are you okay with adding some spicy (I didn't know which other word I was supposed to use) ones at the end? How would he be like? I am a very weird person and I love analysing people's personality and jeonghan happens to be my main interest these days lol. You can do it through tarot if you want!! You of course know better than me lol and I am completely alright if you don't wanna do my request. I will still love you lol

helloo!! u r def not weird at all!! as a psychology major bb i also love analyzing ppl :)))) — i won't work with tarot for now bc next year im planning on open requests just for it. one more thing I've done tarot in their persona in bed over here !

Jh's personality – headcanons

WARNINGS: mdni under the cut, descriptive and mention of sexual subjects

jeonghan gives me best friends vibes... he looks calm, almost indifferent, but he just looks like he loves to peep with you, to talk for hours and go grab meals together. he reminds me of family.

you know his lives just eating, joking around and talking... that's exactly how he is with his friends. obviously, he's more reserved because it's with us, but i feel he is all out with his friends. that one friend that literally doesn't know when to stop the teasing and goes overboard, but it's funny nonetheless... especially when he's drunk.

prefers to do meetings at his home with homemade barbecue and beverages. or going to a restaurant with his close friends. not the club type 100%. he likes the introspective meetings.

cocky and flirty for fun :/

so so so so caring!!!!!! the type of person you'd choose to say your deepest secrets and ask advice. hears you closely, gives you comfort, and tries to help you how he can. he will even make sure to check up on you for the next days, make a joke or two to light up your mood.

he's love language is probably acts of service.

don't ever pick up a fight with jeonghan... he's that type of scary that nothing bothers him until it does. his words get assertive, and he's not afraid of saying what he has to.

something makes me believe jeonghan is protective with his friends. he will speak up if he's in a situation that makes any of his friends or anyone really uncomfortable. when there's something you tell him, he not necessarily picks a fight but encourages you to do what you should, would that be cut someone toxic from your life or doing what you want.

Spicy Thoughts

kinky!!!! KINKYYY!!! he will be honest with his wantings and desires with you, you will know what he wants to try, and he's hoping you're wanting too. communicative as hell, we love it.

jeonghan isn't quiet. man trying to contain himself?? not him!! he moans, groans, dirty talk, grunts, the whole package bb. you're making him feel good, and he wants you to know.

a switch and open for anything.

sex drive high and horny. when i say he's open for anything, i mean it... he's up for anything!! will not always be penetrative sex, you want to get on your knees and suck him, fine, let's do it. want to make out, grind and cum on your panties, he's up to. just finger you and make you cum on his tongue, okay... let's do that.

not the type to enjoy lazy or slow sexy, he likes raw, sweaty, and nasty sex.

im sorry, but i do believe he'd go to strip clubs. i feel like sex is a need for him, like a healthy need, you know what i mean? so if he's not with someone, he'd would satisfy that paying for it.

a tease, baby!!! prepare yourself for overstimulation, sensory play, and orgasm denial. he's up to make you cum many times 🙂‍↕️ you're getting sore and sensitive next morning.

jeonghan is not aggressive. he's ok with accessories, handcuffs, blindfolds, anything, he's just not causing you any physical pain.

[tinylilacbun]

OMG HIHIHI now I can pciture like, a dark!jj starting to feel his obsession be born in the very moment he lay his eyes on her from affar. And he watches her all the time, to how long she takes to take sip after sip of her drink until random things like who she talks to people around her and walks. And it scares even himself (at least at the begining), this new.. dark and delicious feeling he can't name it, he just knows it increases every time he sees her. Maybe it's the contrast of their nature, it's what he tries to tell himself. Maybe it's how his is so full of anger and complications and hers is so... pure. Full of light. All he knows is that the feeling inside him is growing and turning into a sentence in the back of his head that gets louder and louder: he needs her. He has to have her. One way or another.

Geez sorry the delulu in me got the hots and just went with the flow I guess

THATS EXACTLY WHAT I THOUGHT!!

He doesn't know why he's so intrigued with you, why he's interested in a kook of all people, but you're different, not all bitchy and spoiled or thinking you're something better than the pogues.

You're sweet, almost too pure, and he just can't help himself but keep his eyes on you the second he catches a glimpse of you at a keg party on the beach.

He studies how you don't really drink from your cup, only taking small sips as if you're scared to get caught, clenching his jaw when he sees Rafe draping an arm over your shoulder as you giggle at something he said.

That psychotic drug addict should be the last person you stand close to, but it's not surprising, you're a sight for sore eyes but JJ knows that the kook prince only looks for a little fun, not for the interesting person you actually are.

JJ thought it was just the alcohol that night that made him so obsessive over someone who he never really talked to, but somehow he finds himself coincidentally seeing you around Kildare more often...

It gets so bad that he even starts to sneak onto your family's property, hiding behind some bushes as he gets a clear view of your room from your open window, watching you get ready for bed.

You turn off the light of your vanity mirror, getting up and stifling a yawn as you walk towards your bed, carefully slipping under the soft covers and making sure that none of your plushies fall on the ground.

JJ is about to leave when you suddenly reach under your pillow and pull out a small Lovie, but what really gets his attention is when you push the attached pacifier past your lips, getting more comfortable on your bed.

Now that's even more interesting.

A few more weeks of watching you and doing his own research on his phone he thinks that he knows what this is that you're doing, that state you seem to revert to for whatever reason he hasn't figured out yet.

Normally he would just ask Pope, but he doesn't want any of his friends knowing or thinking about him being some creep that's been watching you for about a month now.

His obsession only grows the more he finds out about you, not being able to control himself anymore as he quietly climbs in through your window one night, that small voice in his head being more prominent every time he sees you and getting the better of him.

He feels completely out of place, the clean and neatly organized room mocking his appearance, but it's oddly calming with the fairy lights that adorn the headboard on your bed and the faint scent of the lavender candle that's lit up on your nightstand.

Finally his gaze lands on your sleeping figure, all snuggled in your sheets and a bunny plushie tucked under your chin as the pacifier slowly bobs in your mouth.

He knows this is sick, that he shouldn't even be here, but a part of him doesn't even care, only thinking about satisfying his need to be close to you to make that voice finally shut up for a while.

Standing beside your bed he tilts his head to the side, almost cooing at how adorable you look and completely unaware of him right next to your bed, cautiously reaching out to caress your cheek.

"I'll take care of you soon...just gotta prepare everything." He whispers more to himself. "I just need some more time but don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you until then."

You will be his, no matter what it takes, you'll understand one day and thank him for saving you.

But who's saving you from him?

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[ikkyfics]

Adorable Kitchen Disaster

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: "Dave..." your voice nearly faltered. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

Warnings: just fluffy - Dave being a lovable disaster in the kitchen

Masterlist

The Christmas spirit was already in the air when you heard the doorbell ring. An instant smile appeared on your face as you left the cookie dough on the counter and went to the door. When you opened it, there he was: Dave Lizewski, wearing a comfy blue hoodie under a dark green coat. The beanie hid part of his messy dark hair, and the round glasses framed his big, warm blue eyes that always made you sigh.

"Hey," he said, smiling that shy, adorable way of his. He was holding a plastic bag filled with candies and treats. "I'm ready for the mission, chef."

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you pulled him by his coat, pressing your lips firmly to his. Dave seemed surprised for a second but soon returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss. He still tasted like chocolate—because, of course, he always brought something sweet along the way—and the way he smiled against your lips showed how much he loved it.

"Wow." He laughed quietly when you finally pulled away, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. "I think I'm going to come help in the kitchen more often."

"My parents aren't here," you told him, slightly out of breath, ignoring his playful comment. "They went to visit some friends. So, we have the whole house to ourselves."

"That explains why you're so happy to see me," Dave teased, but the way he bit his lip, shy and enchanted, only made him more irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, holding his hand and pulling him inside. "Come on, hurry up. The cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

The kitchen was a well-organized mess, with cookie cutters scattered on the counter and a bowl of dough ready. Dave observed everything with one eyebrow raised, leaving the "supplies" bag on the table.

"Wow, you're seriously letting me touch the food?"

"I'm trying to give you a chance," you laughed, positioning yourself next to him and extending the bowl. "Now take the dough and start rolling it out with the pin. Just make firm movements, forward and back."

Dave grabbed the rolling pin with both hands and shot you an amused look. "Seems easy. Like a video game. I'm great at this."

But within minutes, you had already spotted the impending disaster. He was pressing the rolling pin too hard, the dough was getting all crooked, and the effort was only making him more frustrated.

"My God, Dave, you're going to destroy everything," you said, laughing.

"I'm not destroying! Just... customizing," he replied, completely convinced, as he rolled the dough any which way.

With an amused sigh, you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his arms, your back pressed against his chest. Dave froze, surprised by the proximity, but let his hands relax when you held his wrists.

"Like this," your voice came out soft, almost a whisper, as you guided his movements firmly. "Calm. No force. Just... glide."

Dave let out a low chuckle. "Do you realize this looks like a movie scene? Like, 'Ghost' but the cooking version?"

"Shut up, Lizewski," you warned, but a smile escaped.

The truth was, the proximity wasn't helping your focus. You could feel his body heat through the hoodie, the rhythmic sound of his breath close to your ear, and the soft scent that always seemed to surround him. What had started as a funny moment quickly turned into something more intense.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Dave murmured, his voice deeper and lower, too close to your neck.

You didn't have time to respond because, in the next second, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the side of your neck. The sensation was so unexpected that you shivered, letting out a sigh.

"Dave..." your voice nearly faltered.

He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

"You're distracting me," you replied, though not with much firmness, because the truth was, you were loving it.

"I don’t see you complaining for real," Dave teased, giving one last kiss before pulling away just enough to study your face. His cheeks were red too, but the crooked, loving smile remained. "Why do you have to be so pretty, huh? Can't even be a disaster in peace."

"Who says I want you to stop being a disaster?" you retorted, your voice full of amusement, but the look in your eyes was sweet enough to be hard to hide.

He smiled even more and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips brushing against yours so gently it felt like he was afraid to break you. You felt his fingers slide along the curve of your waist, almost as if he wanted to memorize every inch, as the kiss slowly deepened, stealing any remaining breath.

"I swear you're going to be my undoing," Dave murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Well..." you began, with a shy, daring smile. "At least we’ll get lost together."

His laughter was genuine, and he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. It was the kind of look that made time seem to slow down — his blue eyes filled with affection, admiration, and something deeper, an intensity so pure that you didn’t know how he could keep it all contained in just that gaze.

"What luck I have," he replied softly, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he acted on impulse. With a somewhat awkward movement, Dave grabbed your waist and lifted you up, making you let out a surprised squeal instantly.

"Dave! What are you...?"

But you didn’t even finish the sentence. The sudden movement made your leg bump into the open bowl of flour, creating a white cloud in the air that looked like something out of a cartoon. You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as he gently set you down on the counter.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he laughed, not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the chaos he had just caused. His hands were now covered in flour, as were parts of his hair and the blue sweatshirt he was wearing.

"You’re a walking disaster, Lizewski." You laughed through your grumbling, trying to brush some flour off your face, but you were quickly interrupted when he leaned in again, his smile still dancing on his lips.

"I didn’t hear any complaints earlier." He said, and before you could respond, he sealed his lips to yours once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more engaging, as if he were trying to capture every bit of that moment. His hands slid back down your waist, a firm yet gentle touch, as if he were still surprised to be allowed this close to you.

You pulled him even closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours and realizing, once again, how he seemed stronger than you gave him credit for. It was a subtle strength, but it was present — a constant and charming surprise from someone who could still be so sweet and caring.

"Since when have you been working out like this, huh?" you asked, your voice slightly muffled between the kisses he was now spreading across your jawline and the corner of your neck.

"Since I started carrying my girlfriend around in my spare time," he replied with a proud smile, his voice lower and full of affection.

"How cocky." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the big smile on your face.

Dave looked at you again, his blue eyes tracing every detail of your face, and you felt your heart squeeze in a good way. He was still too close, your bodies almost touching, and the redness on his cheeks only made him more endearing.

"I’m serious." He spoke softly, brushing a lock of flour out of your hair with his fingertips. "I never thought I’d have someone like this... you know, someone like you."

Your heart melted instantly. You leaned in, pulling him into another kiss, but the moment was brutally interrupted by a strange smell and a low sound coming from the oven.

Both of you froze, eyes wide in unison, until you let out an "Oh no!" and gently pushed Dave off the counter.

"The cookies!" you exclaimed, rushing to the oven.

Dave stood still in the middle of the kitchen, still covered in flour, watching as you, somewhat clumsily, opened the oven and tried to save the cookies — already too dark to be considered edible.

"Okay, okay, I admit it," he began, trying to suppress his laughter. "Maybe the movie scene was too good to be true."

You shot him a sharp look, but you couldn’t hold back your own laugh either. The kitchen was a mess — flour on the floor, sugar on the counter, both you and Dave covered in white powder. But none of that mattered.

You sighed dramatically, holding the baking sheet as if it were a lost cause.

"I think we’ve lost this batch."

"It’s just proof of how irresistible I am." Dave shrugged, walking over to you and holding out his arms. "But hey, I promise the next one will turn out right."

"You really are a lost cause, Lizewski."

"And you still like me this way." He grinned widely, pulling you back close, as if there was no mess around.

And, to be honest, at that moment, there really wasn’t.