#and don’t use three of them as much as they should

[juyeoz]

SOFT SPOT — HAN TAESAN

SYNOPSIS — To the eyes around you all, you and Taesan are enemies. You hate anything to do with each other and recoil at the mention of your names. However, behind closed doors, you two are completely different — inseparable. Clearly, Taesan and you will go to an extent to keep your relationship private.

PAIRING — fake-enemy-but-boyfriend!taesan x gn!reader

CONTAINS — kissing, corny love birds Likee i kinda recoiled when writing some lines, and literally just fluff.

WORDCOUNT — 1007 words

NOTE — soph sent that taesan pic and our lives were changed……..and this fic was born duhhh!!!!

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim and spin around in your chair after hearing a few words leave your superior's mouth.

Mr. Lee looks taken aback by your response. Yes, everyone knows about the ongoing battle between both Taesan and you, but your reactions to each other’s names being mentioned never fails to catch them all off guard. 

In the office, you and Taesan never get along. It's been this way since the beginning of your careers. 

Yes, you two have taken a liking to one another since you met, but you couldn’t let anyone else at work know about it, so you played it off as enemies. 

Well, you two at least pretended to want to do nothing with each other to make things less obvious. 

The “enemies” title was given by your coworkers.

Therefore, working with each other is never an option. You “can’t” even stand being in the same room as him, making working in the office a “terrible” experience.

“I won’t work with him.”

“Please, the two of you are the only free ones. We need this proposal by tonight.” Mr. Lee explains with a pleading gaze.

“Then I’ll work on it alone. I don’t need his help.” You say while collecting your scattered papers on the surface of your desk.

“That won’t do.” 

“And why is that?” 

You stack your papers into a pile and turn off your computer in a swift motion as Mr. Lee sighs from behind you.

“It’s too much for one person to handle. With his help, you’ll surely get it done.” He crosses his arms over his chest as you snicker.

Is he looking down on you right now?

“Whatever that means,” you begin and stand up from your seat, with your papers in hand. 

“I’ll work overtime. It can’t be that hard.”

Although it has only been three hours since you uttered those words, you surely are regretting them now.

There you sit, staring at a blank document showcased on your monitor. No matter how long you sit in silence, nothing is coming to your mind. 

Brain fog is after you, and clearly, it doesn't need to try so hard to catch up.

The longer you waited for something, a starting sentence, words — even an overall idea to come to your mind, the more and more workers left. The sun is starting to set, casting an orangey light on your belongings.

In distress, your hands pull at your strands as you let out a groan of frustration. 

You should have listened to what Mr. Lee suggested, but you couldn’t let your relationship become known.

Everyone is used to both you and Taesan rejecting any projects that have to do with one another, so, if you switched up, would they have questioned it?

It sucks, really. You want to spend time with your boyfriend at work, but there are too many eyes on the two of you. To be honest, you can’t even recall why you chose to keep your relationship a secret. It could be because of the awkward tension that would come if you two ever break up and everyone knew about it.

That is a possibility.

The only times you two interact romantically are in the break room when you coincidentally both end up there at the same time. The teasing glances that make your eyes lock with one another and break out into a smile. Or when he secretly leaves anonymous sticky notes on your desk belongings.

Other than that, there is nothing. However, despite that, things will be seen eventually. 

“What’s worrying your pretty mind, love?” A voice approaches you from behind, instantly calming your tense figure due to the familiar warming tone. 

It’s Taesan — your loving boyfriend and so-called workplace enemy.

“A proposal.” You inform as Taesan’s hands slide down from your shoulders and his chin rests on your head.

“Is it the one Mr. Lee suggested we do together?” He asks and you hum in response.

“Why’d you say no? I would be more than glad to help you.” 

“It’ll draw too much attention if I agree, no?” Your head begins to turn to look his way, causing him to rise from his resting position. He looks down at you and smiles while you look up at him.

“That’s too bad.” Taesan begins, then leans down to give you a short and sweet kiss on the lips, which you happily return. 

“If it didn’t, then I could’ve done that many times during work hours instead of after hours.” He teases while your face becomes slightly flushed.

“Why don’t I just help you now? I mean, there’s nobody around…” The boy suggests as your hands lower into your lap.

“Would you actually?” 

“Of course. Here, let’s have a food break first. You seem too overwhelmed by everything to even continue your supposed brainstorming process.” 

You roll your eyes at what he truly meant — your flustered expression — and rise up from your seat for him to lead the way to the break room. 

“A coffee will do?” Taesan questions and you nod. 

“That and your presence, of course.” You reply, giving him another kiss on the cheek once you reach his side.

“Hey.” He stammers out because of the sudden warmth on his cheek. Now, it’s his turn to be left a blushing mess.

“Only I can catch you off guard with a kiss.” He says and you laugh while interlocking your hand with his. 

Out of nowhere, his thumb rubs against the skin of your hand — a reflex he has whenever he intertwines your fingers with his own.

You hum at his words, pondering on his new sudden rule.

“Doesn’t that seem unfair?” Your brow raises as you say your question and look over at the boy interrogatively. Taesan looks back at you, holding eye contact with no signs of breaking it and smiles.

“Not at all.” Taesan replies to your question.

Best believe, after his words, you earned yourself another kiss on the lips for him to prove whatever point he had.

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz @hollxe1 @r1kification @mensisim @mydearyeseo @sunghxxnie @taesanfav @wonzzziezzzz @ijustwannareadstuff20 @tanghuyuj @ranjupotato @mimimimiaa @ningizuo @hyunjinslongasslegs

[siriuslylantsov]

be my valentine

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, spencer asks you out after a hearty but incomplete info dump on the history of valentines day.

tags: fluff! idiots inlove, gn!reader, reader is briefly described as shorter than spencer, teasing!spencer, grumpy!reader, penelope is an angel and i love her so much, reader shitting on valentines day and raising some very valid points.

a/n: based on this request, second fic for the event!! i know its still four days till valentines day but! if i didnt get this done now it would've been late. i rewrote this THREE times... but i rlly like how this version came out! happy reading :)

wc: 2.1k

it's your lunch break and you’re glaring at yet another sappy couple that walks by you. grumbling, you take another bite of your blueberry muffin. spencer laughs from his seat in front of you, amused by how your lip curls into an irritated pout. the two of you had walked to a cafe, a brief reprieve away from the frenzied police department you were stationed at for this week's case. 

“motherfuckers,” you seethe, still chewing your food. “i hate valentine's day.”

he laughs again, his tone sarcastic, “really, i never would’ve guessed.”

your glare shifts to him as you cross your arms. his grin is still there, annoyingly persistent, you hate that it doesn't affect him as much as it should. if you told him this, he would’ve told you that it didn't pack much of a punch. 

you roll your eyes and continue with a heavy scoff, “it's just another fake holiday, you know. like mother's day. created by greeting card companies trying to commercialise a day that shouldn't even exist honestly. every day should be dedicated to showing your loved ones how much you care, not just 24 hours in the middle of february.”

he accepts your cynicism with a smirk, completely accustomed to it. he knows you don’t mean it, not entirely, you just like to rant. “you know valentines day actually goes back about 2000 years. i’m sure greeting card companies weren't around back then,” he corrects, biting his lip in suppression.

your eyes narrow into slits, feeling the faint shift in the air of an incoming info dump. you ignore the way you want to hear what he has to say and take a sip of your coffee instead. you stall to torture him a bit, it's funny how he squirms.

“really,” you drag out, stroking your chin in exaggerated contemplation. you stare at him knowingly, he wants to continue but he's waiting for you to give him the green light. you laugh quietly, mood already improved, “go on.”

spencer visibly brightens, sitting up straighter and hands springing into action. “well, valentine's day has a really fascinating and somewhat convoluted history,” he starts, almost giddily. “the earliest accepted theory can be traced back to the roman festival of lupercalia, which was celebrated from february 13th to 15th. it was a fertility festival dedicated to faunus, the roman god of agriculture, and it included a ritual where men would sacrifice a goat and a dog, then use strips of the goat’s hide to whip women-”

“wait, they used goat skin to whip women?” you interject, eyes widening incredulously.

“yes! they willingly lined up for it too, believing it would make them more fertile,” he explains, far too animated considering the context, but it's okay. you like his enthusiasm. 

you grimace, “weird.”

“right. however, the day of love that we now recognise was brought by st. valentine, though which valentine is unclear—there were at least three martyred saints by that name. the most famous story involves a priest in third-century rome who defied emperor claudius ii's orders by secretly performing marriages for young soldiers,” he pauses to take a breath. you use it to bring your coffee back up to your lips, hiding your smile.

“claudius believed single men made better warriors, so he banned them from marrying,” he clarifies to which you nod. “when valentine was caught, he was executed on february 14th, which is why he’s the namesake of the holiday. some versions of the story even say that he sent a letter to his jailer's daughter signed ‘from your valentine’ which could be the origin of the modern tradition.”

“huh,” you pick your lip in thought, spencer hides the way his eyes dart down to them as you do it. “but that’s still an execution, how did it-”

the shrill tone of your ringtone interrupts you. “mhm, okay,” you respond when you pick up the phone. “we’ll be right there.” 

spencer stares at you expectantly, reaching over to grab your bag. he secures it over his shoulder and stands up. 

“it was jj,” you explain, stuffing the last bits of muffin into your mouth. “wi’ness ‘howed up.”

the food-muffled words make him chuckle and hold out a hand for you to get up. you let him pull you up with a dramatic huff, still holding his hand as you dust crumbs from your lap. you realise it a little too late and let go with a start, frown returning when you realise he isn’t going to let you carry your bag.

the walk back only took about five minutes before but this time's slower pace makes it a longer ordeal. comfortable silence brackets the two of you until it doesn’t when spencer speaks up.

“so, there's actually a lot more to the history of valentine's day. for instance, how the day became one of romance instead of, as you said, one that marked a martyrdom. we could, i don't know, discuss this properly over dinner. or drinks? or ice cream, i know that you like ice cream-”

filler words... he’s nervous. amid his rambling, he doesn't realise that you’ve stopped in your tracks. 

“-we can do whatever you want, i don't mind.” when he looks beside him and doesn't find you, he turns around. he can scarcely read the expression on your face, he usually can. this causes a little bout of concern to bubble up, “what is it?”

“are you asking me out?” your question is immediate, blunt, as a confused crease forms between your eyebrows.

well shit, he was. his lips part as he processes what he just said, he looks a little like a deer in headlights the way he stares back at you. was that too much? are you mad? did you want him to ask you out? what if you say no? he should say something. what if he messes everything up? he can’t-

“spencer,” his name rings out softly, pulling him from his spiral. 

his eyes snap to yours, searching, desperate to read between the lines, to piece together what you’re thinking like he always does—except this time, he can’t. he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, “yes.”

he swallows hard and adds, “on a date.”

“i got that,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, and closing the distance that he unintentionally left.

his head dips, voice small. “i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

your head tilts slightly, studying him. “you didn’t.”

the reassurance eases him a little but not enough as the anxiety claws at him while he waits for your answer. your phone sounds again from your pocket, this time a text from morgan. you quickly type out a response–got lost, be there in 2. it's a pathetic excuse, if you focused, the station was in your direct eye line. but you needed to say something. 

“okay.”

he can't help the sign of relief that slips out of him, you giggle at the sound. when he looks at you again, he's unmeasurably happy to see your poorly concealed smile, breaking out in his own matching one. 

“yeah?” he asks sheepishly.

you nod, chewing your bottom lip, “yeah.”

your eyes squint at the corners, a side effect of the same grin that those sappy couples had been sporting, the same one that you’d been complaining about a little while ago. it makes you want to kick yourself, so you do the next best thing. you take hold of spencer's hand and drag yourself back to the pd. spencer shuffles somewhat behind you, trying to keep up with your stride. it doesn't take him long with those long legs of his.

his thumb strokes your knuckles gently–deliberately, you feel–but he pretends it's an unconscious action with the way his eyes are trained ahead. it makes you roll your eyes. when you near, you reluctantly let go of each other, the moment being the last time the two of you are alone for the rest of the day.

-

the team ends up solving the case a few hours later, taking the jet home where a valentines day baking spread is set up in the briefing room. all set up by the resident tech savvy. penelope tells you later that it took a whole week of convincing on her part, insisting that it would be quick and she’d clean up, and that everyone would get home to their own valentine's day plans in no time. 

there are a few heart-shaped helium balloons floating in the corners, and pink streamers in easy to reach places. the room is drastically more inviting, maybe the tones of fuschia and bubblegum have something to do with that. a cake and a bowl of suspiciously dyed punch reside on the table, along with pink plates and cups.

“penelope,” you gasp when you see them.

perfectly curated baskets of chocolate and cookies and associated items for everyone. you pick up the one with your name on it and inside you find: a candle, your favourite candy tied together with a little bow and a letter signed ‘happy valentines day, sweetheart. love, penny xx’. 

oh my god, you could kiss her. 

“it's like christmas,” emily muses from the other end of the table. you hear jj mutter something in agreement. you peek over at spencer, it's probably the hundredth time that you've snuck a glance his way. his eyes were already on you every other time, only now they were accompanied by a pair of red heart-shaped glasses, the clear plastic lenses offering a perfect view of his hazel orbs. the picture makes you laugh to yourself, you can barely hear it echoing from his end. 

-

about 30 minutes later, only the stragglers are left. in better words, the single people. the individuals with partners having rushed off to their own respective plans. you're making small talk with another girl who worked around the office when you feel a light hand on your shoulder, spencer nodding his head toward the elevator to signal your leave. you politely wish her goodbye and walk out with him. 

“cute glasses,” you tease, bumping his shoulder with yours, though the height difference makes it so you're nudging his upper arm. 

“yeah? i might get the lenses medicated, switch them out for my regular ones,” he jokes, his elbow nudging yours gently as he pushes the bridge of the glasses up the slope of his nose instinctively. 

“good idea,” you nod.

“you think?”

“mhm.” 

once again, he beats you to your bag, swiping it from your chair and carrying it along with his own. you meekly toy with the hem of your shirt as the two of you walk to the elevator. 

“so, bummer that neither of us have plans today. it’s so early,” you say, being blatantly obvious with what you're suggesting.

spencer only offers you an indifferent “yeah, bummer” in response, walking in when the doors slide open. when you look at him though, he's anything but indifferent, the corner of his lip pulling up in a crooked smile, irritatingly smug. you don't know where he gets off on being so at ease but the expression on his face makes you scowl as you follow him in. 

he is silent the whole ride down. you become increasingly annoyed, only faltering slightly when his hand reaches down to hold yours. his fingers thread between yours and you not-so subtly curl yours over his, ignoring the way he looks down at you. 

you try not to smile at the domestic picture of the two of you walking out hand in hand. thankfully the basement is empty. he pauses between your cars and mutters a quick “see you monday” before loosening his fingers and turning to walk away.

“spencer,” you groan, almost a whine as you squeeze his hand before he can let go.

he responds immediately, without missing a beat, “yes, angel.”

fuck.

you want to melt but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “would you like to do something tonight?” you grit out begrudgingly.

“i would love to,” he agrees, pulling you closer with your hand. your gaze darts to the two bag straps on his shoulder and you realise he had no intention of letting you go just like that. so you shove him, a little hard that he stumbles a bit. he huffs a laugh and you shake your head dismissively. 

he slowly, tentatively, dips down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“how does thai food sound?” he asks, that same bashfulness creeping into his voice that you love so dearly. 

“sounds perfect.”

you share another sweet smile that would probably make you gag from an outside perspective but now it just makes you feel dizzy. he leads you back to his car, muttering something about how he’ll pick yours up tomorrow morning. you want to argue with him but that same dizzy feeling stops you.

you can't help the dreamy sigh that slips out when he connects your hands again over the centre console. thank god for st. valentine, you think.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

im still taking more requests for the event so send them in!!

divider from @saradika-graphics

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy II

an art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU...

II.

-It takes about three classes for you to finally relax around Professor Wick. You still feel his eyes upon you when you pose, but he does not make you feel uncomfortable. In fact…he is painfully proper with you. As he should be, of course, but sometimes, late at night when you are kept awake by your thoughts of him…you wish he would be just a tad forward. It's unseemly, what you would let that sweet man get away with. Therein lies the conundrum, you suppose. If he made a pass at you…he wouldn't be so sweet. 

-One day you are making your rounds during the break, when you happen to notice Professor Wick was drawing at his desk along with the students. You were in a reclining pose, feigning sleep. The way he drew you…you know better than to think you could possibly look so alluring in real life, but there is something in the varied weight of his lines, the soft shading. Somehow he configured the shadows of the background to suggest wings folded over your supine nude form. 

You've never really liked your body. Well…who does like themselves, truly? But modeling in the classroom, seeing your flesh turned into art, has helped you find a confidence, or at least an acceptance, you didn't have before. Wick’s rendition goes beyond all that, though. You can't let this go to your head. It’s too much. “I hope…you don't mind.”

Again, he's crept up on you without a sound, and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

Clutching your heart, you look back at him. 

“No…I…it’s beautiful.”

You don't know where you get the courage to meet his high-polished onyx gaze, but you feel something inside you implode…then melt. 

“You're beautiful, y/n.”

You have no idea that this is the first time he's drawn anyone besides his wife, since she passed. 

You stand like this in agonizing stasis, close, but not touching, for you don't know how long. You're not sure what might have happened, given enough time, but some of the students return to class, and the moment is broken. You don’t know if you're disappointed, or relieved. 

-You don't know why it's taken you this long, but you finally look up “John Wick+artist”. What you find takes your breath away. Yes, he's a skilled draughtsman. And a painter. And sometimes he combines all these things with bookbinding. 

He's incredible. 

His paintings are dark, with a touch of fantasy, evoking grisly folktales and the old masters in his play of light and shadows. He uses perspective and foreshortening to explore the human body in exciting new ways. He made his name with a series of ethereal ballet dancers in precarious situations. Later, he only painted his wife, Helen. She was a photographer, and in a snap of them with cheeks pressed together they seem impossibly happy. You see that she succumbed to a terminal illness two years ago.

The art world has not heard from John Wick since. 

You do not know this man, really, but you cry for him all the same. 

-You have no idea, how you move him. It's not just that he's seeing you naked on a regular basis, though that does not help. It's the flash of your eyes across the room, your smile and your laughter as you joke around with the students while they draw you as God made you. There is a light in you that he cannot turn away from, perhaps because he has lived in darkness for so long. He craves you– and he knows he shouldn't.  He traces your form with charcoal on paper, and he tells himself that that will have to do. 

He looks you up too. 

He finds your little miniature paintings on your social media, your digital portfolio for all to see. You make tiny eclectic diorama scenes you cook up with a 5/0 brush, sometimes you add moving parts and teeny dolls with teenier twee companions. Polly Pocket never had a pet opossum…poor girl. Your diminutive pieces hint at a longing for the enchantment of childhood lost, and maybe a cozy home that feels whole, if not strange to an outsider’s eye.

He notices you have not created anything you feel like sharing lately. He wonders if you are ok. The answer amongst the creatively inclined is usually not. But if you are not happy…you hide it well. 

He senses there is a well of strength in you that he wishes he could drown himself in. 

TBC...

___

masterlist/chapter map

pinterest board/ photo credits

[racoon3lizabeth]

Art critics at work: part two

part 1 | part 2

summary: remus dislikes a lot of things. not just the teachers lounge but the cafeteria as well. But what he didn’t know is that someone else is using his secret place to eat.

notes: this was sort of rushed and not as well written as the first part. I’ve been having a lot of writers block so that’s why. but next part will be longer and much more well written! buuuuuut I hope you like it either way!!

remus lupin x fem!reader

Eating lunch at school should be illegal if you ask Remus. At least as a teacher. Not only does he sneak into the art classroom to print papers, which he had completely forgotten to do when he stumbled upon the new teacher, he also tries to sneak away during lunch to eat in peace. Hence as to why he always brings his own lunch.

Sirius and him usually eat together. Sometimes outside on the benches or in Remus' classroom. But that’s why Wednesdays are the worst. Their lunch breaks are normally at the same time but unfortunately not in the middle of the week. So he’ll have to eat alone because there’s no chance he’s eating in the cafeteria.

With his salad in hand he walked out the front door, turning right to continue down the path which leads down to three couples of tables. The wooden tables are all rectangular with two bench seats. Lightened up by the yellow spring sun.

It’s still in that early phase of spring where the sun shines the brightest but offers the least of warmth. Not even his dark brown leather jacket and red scarf could save him from the chill air.

Remus is once again too caught up with his own thoughts. If he hadn’t been repeating the lessons he’ll be holding later today in his head he would’ve been able to stop before you saw him.

“Remus?”

The professor looks up from the ground at the sound of your voice, only a few metres from the benches, stopping in his pace when he sees you. “Hi,” his lips curled into a quizzical smile. “What are you doing here?” He questions. Even though it’s obvious due to the sandwich in your right hand.

You regard him with a nervous twinkle in your eye. You’ve only talked once, about a week ago and you’ve only seen him in the hallways since then and once during a meeting. Always sending each other subtle glances as you walk past each other.

But you haven’t truly spoken and the mere thought of sparking another conversation sends a chill down your spine.

“Eating lunch,” you explain, raising your shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m too nervous to talk to the other teachers.” You add, letting out an anxious chuckle. Taking a bite out of your sandwich.

Remus takes your words as an invitation to sit down with you, which it also was. It’s not like he’s any more confident than you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of having a conversation. But he hasn’t got anywhere else to sit. There’s two other tables but he obviously can’t just ignore you and choose to sit at another table.

That’s like experiencing the teenage drama that’s happening around them everyday.

He could also go back to his classroom and eat his lunch in peace. But he needs some fresh air. The stuffy air in his classroom can get a bit too much sometimes, even if he tries opening a window. There’s always someone who complains about the cold or noises from outside since a few of his students always stayed behind.

He settles down in front of you, placing his salad on top of the table. “Most of them are alright,” the cold wind blowing through his curls. “Sirius is nice.” he remarked. Observing her with a gentle gaze as he opens the plastic lid to his food.

Your eyes flick back and forth over his face, studying him as you raise one of your eyebrows. “Who’s Sirius?” You inquire, voice not over a whisper, embarrassed by the fact that you don’t know who he is.

Remus pauses in mid action, fork just above his lips. “Mr Black?” Tilting his head to the side. “Music teacher?” He questions, lowering his hand to rest on the table.

Your mouth forms a small O shape as the realisation dawns upon you. You had actually seen Sirius talk with Remus multiple times. Perhaps you had just been too busy peering at the handsome history teacher to notice Mr Black. “Right,” you snicker. “Yeah I know who that is.”

The history teacher starts to eat as you talk. Having a hard time concentrating when you’re just sitting there in front of him looking effortlessly radiant. “He’s one of my best friends,” he elaborates when he finishes chewing. “I’ve known him and two other blokes since we were eleven.”

“Really?” You raise a curious eyebrow. “How come?”

“We went to school together.” He explains simply. It actually wasn’t more complicated than that at all. They all met when they were eleven and very mischievous. Though he doesn’t have to tell you about the number of pranks he pulled through his youth. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, on the first date. Or maybe that’s more of a third date thing?

His heart rate goes from normal to abnormally fast at the thought. Immediately regretting his stupid daydreaming. He barely even knows you.

“That’s nice,” you responded, your beautiful voice causing him to snap back to reality. “Weird coincidence that your friend Sirius also works here.” You comment, lips twitching into a small smile. Taking another bite of your sandwich, the cold breeze makes its way into your thin jacket, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Remus quickly finished his salad, placing his cutlery inside of the box before he closed the lid on top. Chewing on his lower lip as a grin spreads on his face. “Not really,” your eyes meeting for a few seconds before Remus peers down at the table. Crossing one leg over the other. “I worked here first and then my mate Sirius needed a job.” Remus recalled.

You manage to nod slowly as you observe him. His chocolate coloured eyes turn more hazel as the sun shines down on them. A small, almost unnoticeable scar stretching from his right eyebrow down the slope of his nose. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, not that you’re complaining, but you can see his pretty face much clearer.

“Are you going to that teacher parent meeting tomorrow night?” You questioned, changing the subject since the small dusting of freckles on his nose had made you completely forget what you talked about in the first place.

Remus drums his fingers against the edge of the table, your piercing although kind gaze making him restless. “Yeah,” he confirms. Running a hand through his hair. “Are you?” Not knowing if you’re aware that those meetings are pretty much mandatory since you just started working at the school.

“Yeah,” you echo, finally finished with your lunch. “So I’ll see you there?” You ask, eyes lightening up just by the thought of it.

Remus clears his throat, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes.” He replies, tugging at his scarf that suddenly felt extremely tight. The cold wind didn’t feel so cold anymore. His hands had even started to grow clammy due to how fast his heart thumped inside of his chest. “I’ll save you a seat.” He adds, chuckling nervously as he realises what he just uttered. Why on earth does he always tend to make a fool out of himself?

Your entire face reddens, turning crimson as a flush creeps up your neck. “Great.” You only mutter, not really trusting your voice at the moment.

“Great.” He repeats, voice cracking slightly.

Based on your reaction it wasn’t that out of place for him to say. Maybe just a little.

—————————————————————————————————

tags: @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @lettertovera @allformoony @ladyaida

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 5: Let’s Talk About Sex

I was mostly planning to check in again after the current Japanese shows ended, but after three out of four sex scenes left me wanting this week, I want to write down my ideas. I maintain that bed scenes, like action scenes, need to tell us more about the characters. Many sex scenes serve as a release of tension or confirmation of existing feelings. As usual, MAME seems to understand this, and others should probably take notes. 

Call Me By No Name is Doing Nothing For Me (5/8)

I have just about given up on this show. I don’t get Megumi’s whole deal, why she’s so in love with Kohata, or Kohata’s reticence. I was really hoping that an intimate scene would open up some space for vulnerability and truth with them to give us some answers about why these two weirdos are drawn to each other, but that’s not what we got. I was hoping that when we saw these two go at it we’d learn how much Megumi has felt for women before, or how she responded to Kohata’s experience. Instead, I’m left feeling cold by the whole affair, and generally baffled by the conflicting themes around going somewhere she did cutesy girl nights before, and ordering the cute food. This one is a chop.

Impression of Youth is Wasting My Time (5/9)

I have my own squicks as a former teacher with stories where a teacher messes around with their student. However, I don’t see the point of doing a teacher-student story if we’re not going to explore any of the lines being crossed here. We also didn’t get a good arc about the student helping the teacher properly reconnect with a feeling, or discover something, that helped him get back to his art. We simply had him start painting on the beach again, the kid confessed, and then they fucked with awkward kissing. I was a bit let down by the brother’s fast encouragement of the whole thing. It felt like they were reaching for the same energy we had in Call Me By Your Name (2017) with Oliver and Elio, but it’s missing the component where Oliver knew what he was doing the whole time for me. The overall alignment feels off, and I’m getting so little emotion from this show as a result. On top of all that, they showed us the kid’s boxers before implying he was nude in the shower! Ridiculous! 

When It Rains It Pours is Being Shy About Sex in a Show About Cheating (5/7)

This is the biggest offender of the week for me. This show is all about how the leads cannot have sex from the people they love, and find someone they can commiserate with in each other. When the dam finally breaks and they both need the release in each other, I was so dismayed that the show tried to gloss over as much of the sex as possible. It’s so fucking annoying for me when the shows about sex get precious about it and won’t show it. I was thankful that they tried to capture all the emotions happening around the weekend they spent together, but I think we lost a lot in not having Hagiwara blow Sei, because you just know that man has a people pleasing streak that would require him to give pleasure back. The lack of sex also means that there is no gap time between the infidelity and the discovery. We don’t give enough time for the shift in their relationship to breathe before the crisis (@respectthepetty). I’ve lamented before about Japanese shows only showing toxic or breakup sex, and so it’s damned annoying that they’re doing that in the cheating show because they probably want these guys to be together by the end. I was really hoping Mood Indigo would have some company finally (especially after Love in the Air Koi), but I clearly need to stay patient. Cannot overstate how lame it is for the show about two guys cheating because their partners won’t fuck them being shy about the sex effectively sides with the partners who won’t fuck them. Finally, I am not over them getting the insertion angle wrong while making points about it!!

Your Sky Could Have Been A Good Follow-Up on 2gether

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit because I don’t know what I want to say about this one. I was really into it in the beginning, but it felt like this show didn’t really know what it wanted to do after resolving the issues with Oh. I personally liked the dad being confronted by his wife and father about the way his homophobia was hurting his son, but I didn’t really enjoy it as a Very Special Episode. I would have also liked to see Teerak’s newfound assertiveness in this period beyond is refusal to cave. I think this show also deeply underutilized its own supporting characters, especially the side couples. Still, I thought Thomas was probably the most beautiful newest BL boy we’ve gotten, and I liked the way he and Kong worked together. I also really enjoyed Teerak being allowed to want sex, ask for it, and take charge of it. That’s so important for a cute character. Letting us know that Teerak has also become protective of the private moments he has with Fah, and is growing into his desire for Fah really is a great way to finish a show.

Final Verdict: 7, Recommended With Reservations. I find it hard to give this a stronger recommendation. I just think the show ends up being overall inessential from how much of it ends up being fluff that doesn’t connect much to each other. The biggest things I liked were Fah and Teerak, especially in the early episodes, and I liked the family dynamics. Still, I feel like this show didn’t know what to do without Tine’s internalized homophobia, and what to do with Fah’s ex that was mentioned. There’s just too much hanging off this to recommend it as a strong drama. Everyone is very pretty, and the performances are earnest. It’s a show that means well, even if it’s a bit indulgent. 

The Boy Next World Understands that Phu Has a Dick (5/10)

MAME, as usual, understands the assignment. There’s no way that their first encounter is going to be Cir showing up to stick is dick in Phu’s ass. He’s been obsessed with this boy for years in a way that prioritizes Phu’s wellbeing. It was absolutely correct to payoff that Cir keeps making Phu hard by having Cir take care of him, let us see that Phu enjoyed it. Like @babyangelsky I think it’s important that we let go of the notion that cute characters cannot want and enjoy sex. We got so much from this. We know that Cir likes to give pleasure, and that he’s not going to ask for it from Phu. We also know that Phu cares about Cir, too, because he asked about his time in the bathroom (Cir clearly jerked off and rinsed his mouth, y’all). What’s so excellent about putting a sex scene at this point is it means we’ll see their sex change after Phu learns that Cir has been stalking him for years. MAME is consistently the best storyteller at using the kisses and sex to help inform the arc of the relationship. Most importantly, she gets what the angles are supposed to be.

Ossan’s Love Thailand Is…Fine (5/12)

I’m not really into this one much right now, despite what I think is a pretty solid performance from Krit Shahkrit. I understand the choice to go back to making Kongdech a widower, but I don’t think giving him a daughter who initially opposed the romance added much to this for me. I’m hoping activating Thor’s character next week will add some energy to this for me, because I’m feeling a bit flat with it at this point. I’m glad they’re letting Earth and Mix continue to play adult characters, but it doesn’t feel like they knew what they wanted to do with office romance dynamics here.

Gelboys is a Welcome Return from Boss Kuno (1/7)

Started this today and I am seated. I really love how much it feels like we get to actually be inside of Bangkok. I love that we opened with an ad for the Bangkok rail system as a mechanism for freedom. I love how filming on iphones has enhanced the naturalistic feeling of the production. I also love how we completed the major arc of the het angst of Make It Right in the first like five minutes. Incredible stuff. I’m so excited to see the mess Fou4Mod is going to make of everything, and I’m excited to see Chian dickmatize that boy. Curious to see how much this feels like a bubble show. Shout out to Boss for showing us a naked teen at the start of this show to scare off the pearl clutchers.

RED BLUE is EVERYTHING (6/8)

This is not BL, but it’s got enough BL boys rolling on the floor and sweating on top of each other that I’m saying here loudly that I LOVE IT. Kimura Keito is fantastic in this, and I loved his fight with Okura Takato in episode 6. I almost didn’t recognize my boy from his role as Amane in If It’s With You with the change in his hair. I did not know I needed a wrestling show with BL boys…who am I kidding? We’ve been asking for this every year. This is hitting all the notes I want from a sports shonen show. It’s fantastic.

Please Use the Sex Well in Romance

I think there’s a real place for clean romance in the BL genre. Some of our favorites don’t involve sex being a major component of their romance narrative, but that often requires significantly more drama and better storytelling and plots. What I cannot abide is when I find myself bargaining about how a show that wants to talk about sex every episode seemingly doesn’t want to deal with sex. Romances about sex that don’t use the sex well in their stories are as bad as comedies with terrible jokes, or action flicks with no suspense and satisfying fight sequences.

Other than that, I dropped I'll Turn Back This Time. It’s just too stupid and incoherent for me to put up with it’s nonsense. Seeya next time. 

[insomniadreamzz]

Is this real?

Arcane Alternate Ending Fanfiction

Contains Jinx x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, angst

Jinx can still remember the moment that made her heart shatter and the little glimpse of happiness in her fade away forever. You were about to help Vander with Victors help but the Noxians had to destroy your hope of a family reunion. The moment Isha grabbed Jinx‘s gun, rushing towards Vander and aiming to shoot, you running after the girl, knowing she meant so much to Jinx but then there was the explosion and Vi dragged her sister Jinx away from the explosion, wanting to save her.

The explosion was the last thing she remembered before everything went down. Jinx had lost the two people she truly loved and who gave her happiness for once. Now it was all gone and she couldn’t help but blame herself for this. She should have saved you and not letting Vi drag her away but all she could do in that moment was scream your name and scream for Isha. There was no point for her to keep going. Jinx gave up, letting the Enforcers put her into jail for everything she did in the past, paying for all her crimes. Being alone in that cold cell without shoes, without her belt weapons, it made her feeling lost. The silence was very loud, Jinx started hearing voices again, getting back to her old behavior since the two persons who silenced them are gone now.

She fumbled with her braids until she undid them fully, her long blue hair spread across the floor, fingers bloody by the non stop pinching on the skin around her nails. As if that wasn’t enough, Jinx even starved herself. The food wasn’t even disgusting at all, it was good compared to what you would get down in Zaun but Jinx had to will to live at this point anymore, spending the time sitting curled up in the corner, hurting herself and crying a lot until there were no tears left to cry anymore.

…

„Come on you can do this!“ You said as you carried the little figure in your arms, Isha’s and your own clothes being smeared with blood as you rushed home. You didn’t know what happened to the others, you only knew they weren’t here. Jinx wasn’t here. This didn’t matter right now, you had to focus on taking care of the girls wounds first and then think about finding Jinx.

Isha had a wound on her head and stomach but she wasn’t the only one being hurt. Since you tried to get the gun away from the little girls hands, the explosion damaged your hand. All that was left on your left hand now was only your thumb and ring finger, all the other three fingers got damaged too much, your small finger got blown off completely whily your index and middle finger got halfway blown off. These conditions you were in made it hard for you to take care of Isha’s wounds since you needed two hands. „Fuck!…“ You grumbled under your breath, ignoring your own pain as you focused on cleaning Isha’s wounds with your right hand.

„May I help you?“ A familiar voice echoed through Jinx’s hideout, it wasn’t your lover but someone you knew you could trust.

„Sevika!“ You shouted, tears in your eyes as you saw the older woman getting close to you. It was really her.

„Damn kiddo I know the feeling of losing limbs caused by explosions.“ She continued as she looked down on your left hand, making a hurtful expression, scrunching up her nose, knowing the pain.

„It don’t matter. Please take care of Isha first. I can use my right hand to stop the bleeding until you can help me wrap it up okay?“ You mentioned and Sevika just nodded, taking care of Isha‘s wounds. „Youre lucky. Her wounds aren‘t that deep but I guess she fainted from the shock which is understandable for a little girl.“ Sevika mumbled under her breath, soon finished cleaning the little wounds and wrapping them up before putting a blanket over her little body, then she focused on your wound.

You hissed every time the cloth with alcohol hit your wound, the stinging pain making you want to scream but you kept yourself back from that. It took Sevika a little time to wrap the bandages tight enough your hand so the blood will stop running, it hurt you but you knew it’s only for your own good. „Damn you really saved a life. I am proud of you.“ Your eyes widen at hearing Sevika saying this. You expected anything but that. „Thank you…I just couldn’t let this happen…but I need to find Jinx.“ You said and Sevika gave you a understanding nod. „Please take a rest. If not for yourself do it for Isha because she needs the rest. Then you can find Jinx.“

You weren’t satisfied with that, knowing Jinx was very unstable and might do something, you can’t let her think you are dead. „No Sevika I am losing time. Please stay here with Isha I beg you. Take care of her until I come back and I promise I will take Jinx with me.“ You insisted and Sevika just nodded in response with her arms crossed. „Fine but take care of you kiddo.“

…

Jinx heard footsteps getting closer, thinking it was just one of her hallucinations or a guard. She didn’t even care to look, keeping her head buried into her arms that rested on her knees. The only thing causing her head to snap up was your voice.

You felt your eyes water at the sight of Jinx being in there, all alone on the cold floor. It broke your heart. „Jinx…?“ You carefully said, her head snapping up to look at you, eyes wide, her dark makeup all messy under her eyes. She looked like she cried for days and you know she didn’t just look like it, she did cry for days.

„Stop…n-no. No you are not real.“ Jinx panicked, she already had a hallucination of Silco before and now you? No way she couldn’t take it. „Go away! I beg you get out of my head. I can’t do this anymore!“ She held her head, hands grabbing a fist full of her own hair as she shook her head, body shaking in fear.

„Hey…it is me. I am real. I know you think I died but I am alive, I am not dead.“ You tried to explain but Jinx clearly shut down. It was impossible to get through her like that so you used the keys Vi gave you and opened the door to her cell. Stepping inside, you saw Jinx looking up with fear at you which made your heart ache but you already knew her in that state so you did what you always do, being calm as you crouched down in front of her. „I will give you time. Just calm down…“ You said with a low, calm voice.

Jinx muttered something to herself, not really audible for you but you didn’t mind, staying there until she noticed you weren’t going to leave, making her slowly look into your eyes and then look down at your damaged hand. „You…are hurt…“ She mumbled and you gave her a little sad smile, nodding. „Yeah…the explosion caused it. I am sorry you thought we are dead. I wished I could find you earlier but…I needed to take care of Isha.“ You told her and when you mentioned Isha, Jinx‘s eyes widened. „Isha! Is she…?“ You interrupted Jinx with a smile. „Isha is alive.“ With that, Jinx cried but this time out of happiness as she leaned forward to hug you so tight, her fingers clutching onto you as if she was scared you would slip out of her hands. „God! I was so scared…“

You hugged her back, keeping your love as close as possible. „It’s okay Jinx…it’s all okay. Isha is with Sevika she is taking care of her while I went to search for you.“ You reassured her, happy tears running down your cheeks as well.

You kept staying in each other’s arms for a while before she pulled back, cupping your cheeks to admire you. „It is really you. You are real. You are not just in my mind right?“ Jinx was still not fully believing this. You out your hands on hers, keeping on smiling at her. „Of course it’s me. The real me.“ You said once again and there it was again, the happy spark in her eyes before she crushed her lips against yours, kissing you so deeply. You immediately kissed back and both of you shared a loving, deep kiss, never wanting to part again.

…

It wasn’t over yet. Jinx and you spend a lot of time preparing for the last fight after you got her out of jail. She was ready to use her knowledge for building things for good. After Jinx made sure to see Isha again, she got even more motivated. Her happiness came back again after the emotional reunion, having Isha back into her arms again, seeing she was doing well except the little scratches on her body. Thanks to you, she survived and all three of you were together now and Jinx swore to herself she won’t ever let anything part you.

Jinx made you mechanic fingers just like she had which was, like she said ‚something she can fix‘. And you loved them. You adored how much she wanted to help you and do good things, not only building weapons to kill.

„Now it’s time to kick some Noxian asses don’t you think babe?“ You heard Jinx‘s voice, turning from painting the last things on the balloon which will help this whole old fan to fly. When you looked at Jinx, your eyes widen. She literally cut her hair short, only her long bangs being left of her old hairstyle, you immediately noticed the little pink colour in them, referring to Vi. „Wow someone really want to change things up huh?“ You chuckle, loving to see your girlfriend like that, she looked perfect to you no matter which hairstyle.

„Yep! But we need to make some more changes.“ Jinx said with her usual cheery voice before she ripped your shirt, making a crop top out if it. „Wha-…“ You started to complain but she cut you off with a little kiss on your lips. „No talking toots! We need to focus.“ She said before taking off her own shirt, replacing it with her belt to cover her nipples and part of her breasts, leaving you speechless.

„No way you gonna look this sexy in front of Isha.“ You managed to say but the blush on your face told her you really liked the view and wanted to eat her and kiss all over her body but there was no time for it.

„Ah fine.“ Jinx was easy to convince which was a surprise but you didn’t mind. Instead you wrapped a bandage around her chest before spraying a pink ‚x‘ on it, smiling satisfied at your work. „There better.“ You mentioned and with that you brought her to another idea. You both ended up chuckling as you painted on each other’s bodies and clothes, leaving kisses every now and then. It was a beautiful intimate moment you shared, something that meaned even more than sex. It was just beautiful.

When both of you were finished with your little doodles on each other and making matching hoods for each other that looked like a shark which was her favorite, you finally were done to help the others getting rid of the Noxians which caused enough trouble between Piltover and Zaun like you already had.

„Are you ready my love?“ You asked and Jinx smiled with a nod before pecking your cheek. „Yes I am and I won’t let you out of my sight, we either win or die together.“ Jinx said but you shook your head. „We will live together. Both of us will stay alive I promise that.“ You stated, squeezing your lovers hand gently.

You were so ready for this.

[isaadore]

MEMORIES JACK HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing jack hughes x reader

SUMMARY three months after your breakup, a late-night call leads you back to jack’s doorstep. old wounds reopen when he finally asks the question he never did before: why? the love is still there, but so is the pain. when you walk away for the last time, he doesn’t stop you. some memories refuse to fade, and jack will always be the one you can never forget. inspired by “memories” by conan gray. word count 1.1k

warning heavy angst, unresolved feelings, longing, mentions of alcohol, no happy ending, cussing

note i felt mean today

JH86 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

THE LAST THING you expected was for him to answer.

Not because he didn’t have every right to ignore your call. He did. But because it was late, and three months had passed without a word between you. And yet, before you could second-guess yourself, before you could even consider hanging up, his voice crackled through the speaker.

“…Hello?”

It was quiet, hesitant, as if he didn’t believe it was really you.

Your breath caught.

You should have said something. Told him this was a mistake, that you didn’t mean to dial his number, that you hadn’t had one too many glasses of wine and ended up outside his apartment building, staring up at the window you used to call home.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hey, Jack.”

Silence.

And then, a sharp breath.

“Where are you?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone. The truth sat heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs, but saying it out loud felt like stepping onto a ledge you couldn’t come back from.

Still, you forced yourself to answer.

“I’m outside.”

The line went dead.

Your stomach twisted. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe he wouldn’t even let you up. You should have left before you made this worse, before you made a fool of yourself for the guy who had every reason to hate you.

But then, before you could turn away, the lobby buzzer rang.

You stared at it, heart pounding.

He had just let you in.

And you didn’t know if that made this better or so much worse.

The apartment looked the same.

It shouldn’t have. You expected something to be different, maybe new furniture or at the very least, the absence of all the little things you left behind. But they were still there. The blanket you always curled up in, still thrown over the couch. The candle you bought last fall burned halfway. The framed photo of the two of you that used to sit in the hallway, gone, but its outline lingered against the wall.

Jack stood across the room, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“You look good.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “Okay.”

More silence.

He exhaled sharply. “Why are you here?”

It was a fair question. One you didn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know.”

Jack laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Right.”

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. “I just…” You trailed off, glancing around the apartment again. “I thought I’d be okay.”

Jack’s eyes darkened. “And you’re not?”

Your throat tightened.

You wanted to lie. Tell him you were fine, that you’d moved on, that this wasn’t some pathetic attempt to hold on to something that was already gone.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because standing there, with him looking at you like you still meant something, like you still held a place in his life even after everything…

You realized you didn’t know how to live in a world where he was just a memory.

You exhaled shakily. “No. I’m not.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, letting out a rough breath. “Then why the hell did you leave?”

Your heart clenched.

He had never asked before.

Not that night, when you packed your things with shaking hands. Not when you left your key on the counter, or when you walked out of this apartment, knowing you’d never be able to come back.

But now, when it was too late, he wanted to know.

You blinked back tears. “You know why.”

Jack shook his head, stepping closer. “No, I don’t.” His voice was raw, strained. “I know you were unhappy, but you never gave me a chance to fix it. You just—” He exhaled sharply. “You just walked away.”

Your chest tightened. “Because it wasn’t something you could fix, Jack.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. “You loved me, Jack. I know that. But I was never going to be your priority.”

He flinched. “That’s not—”

“Yes, it is.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I spent so much time convincing myself that it was okay, that I could handle being second, that I could live with you being out late and missing dates and the fact that you never let me in, not really.” Your voice broke. “But I couldn’t. And I hated myself for it.”

Jack stared at you, breathing heavily. “I never meant to make you feel like that.”

“I know.”

“But I—” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you were that unhappy.”

You looked away. “That’s the problem, Jack. You didn’t even notice.”

The words landed like a blow, knocking the air from his lungs.

Jack’s breathing was uneven now, his eyes shining in the dim light. “So, what?” His voice was hoarse. “You just gave up on us?”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t give up.” You blinked back tears. “I just—I got tired of fighting for something that only ever felt one-sided.”

Jack inhaled sharply, like you just confirmed his worst fear.

“I loved you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I know.”

Jack took another step forward, close enough now that you could see the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he was allowed to.

“You’re still the only thing I think about,” he confessed. “Every fucking day.”

A choked breath escaped you. “Jack—”

“Do you miss me?” His voice was quiet, but the desperation was unmistakable.

Your heart shattered. “Every day.”

Jack exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief second before looking at you again, and for the first time, you saw it: the cracks in his foundation, the pressure of everything he had been carrying since the night you left.

“I don’t know how to let you go,” he admitted.

And God, you wished he didn’t say that.

Because neither did you.

But you had to.

You stepped back, blinking rapidly. “You already did.”

Jack’s face crumpled, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight.

And that was how you knew it was really over.

You took another step back, then another. Jack watched you go, his expression unreadable, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

But this time, when you walked out the door, he didn’t follow.

When you finally stepped onto the street, the cold air biting at your skin, you realized something:

You would spend the rest of your life trying to forget Jack.

But he would always be the one memory you could never erase.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ JH86 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[onegayastronaut]

Heartbeat of Love

Requested by anon: Can you write Maya x Carina x reader where reader has some cardiac problems? Thank you so much!!!

Words: 1924

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was something you had grown used to. It had become a strange, unwelcome companion over the past few weeks, a reminder of the fragility of your own heart. But today, the beeping was drowned out by the sound of laughter and soft whispers, the warmth of love replacing the sterile loneliness of the hospital room.

Maya and Carina had taken it upon themselves to ensure that you never felt alone, not for a single moment. The two women had practically moved into your hospital room, setting up a mini-home with warm blankets, your favorite scented candles (which the nurses had begrudgingly allowed), and a playlist filled with songs that reminded them of you. They had turned an otherwise dreary hospital stay into something almost comforting.

“Amore, you should eat something,” Carina murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed, her fingers brushing the hair from your face.

Maya, ever the overachiever, immediately held up a spoonful of soup. “She’s right. You need your strength. Doctor’s orders.”

You huffed, looking at both of them with a tired smile. “Doctor’s orders? I think that only applies when it’s an actual doctor giving them.” You glanced pointedly at Maya.

Carina smirked. “Lucky for you, I am an actual doctor.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before giving Maya a teasing look. “But she’s very cute when she tries to play one.”

Maya pouted dramatically. “Excuse you, I am very medically knowledgeable. Firefighters have to be.”

You giggled, taking the spoon from Maya and sipping at the soup to appease them both. “I don���t doubt it, babe. But I also know you’re just looking for an excuse to boss me around.”

Maya smirked. “You know me so well.”

Carina let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, careful of the IV line in your arm. “And we both know that you are the most stubborn of us all, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”

It was true. You had resisted being admitted to the hospital for as long as possible, despite the growing concerns about your worsening symptoms. It wasn’t until one particularly bad episode—one that had left you dizzy, gasping, and clutching your chest—that Maya had scooped you up and driven you straight to the hospital. Carina had met you both there, already throwing on her attending badge and demanding the best care for you.

Now, a week into your stay, you were tired of the sterile walls, tired of the beeping machines, and most of all, tired of worrying them. You could see the exhaustion in their eyes, the way they never left your side for too long, the way they whispered worriedly when they thought you were asleep.

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with theirs. “I’m going to be okay,” you whispered. “I promise.”

Maya exhaled slowly, squeezing your hand. “You have no idea how much I want to believe that.”

Carina nodded, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We just… we need you to be okay, baby.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know. And I will be. Because I have you both.”

The three of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background as you simply existed together. Maya traced patterns along your arm, while Carina pressed light kisses along your temple. Their love was a tangible thing, a steady heartbeat in a world of uncertainty.

After a moment, Maya sat up straighter. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s do something fun.”

Carina raised an eyebrow. “Fun? In a hospital?”

Maya grinned. “Absolutely. I brought cards.”

You groaned. “Please don’t say Uno.”

Maya gasped in mock offense. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because you’re a menace when you play Uno,” you teased.

Carina laughed. “It’s true. She once made Jack cry during a game at the station.”

Maya shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Weak.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. But I swear, if you hit me with a Draw Four when I’m already dealing with a heart condition, I’m breaking up with you.”

Carina smirked. “Oh, I would pay to see that.”

Maya pouted dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You gave her an innocent smile, but before you could say anything else, Carina leaned in and whispered, “I’ll help you.”

Maya groaned as you and Carina burst into laughter, and for the first time in weeks, your heart felt light. No matter what lay ahead, you knew one thing for sure—you were surrounded by love, and that was the best medicine of all.

Returning home was a relief, but it also came with its own challenges. Maya and Carina were overly protective, hovering over you at every opportunity. If you so much as shifted on the couch, one of them was there, adjusting pillows or offering water.

“Babe, I love you both, but I’m not made of glass,” you huffed as Maya tucked a blanket around you for the third time that morning.

Maya crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “You had heart surgery two weeks ago. Humor me.”

Carina sighed, setting down a bowl of fresh fruit. “Maya, maybe we should let her breathe?”

Maya sighed but relented, sitting beside you. “Fine. But you have to promise to tell us if you feel even a little bit off.”

You smiled, leaning into her. “I promise.”

Carina sat on your other side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And no trying to do too much too soon.”

Days passed with quiet moments of love—Maya carrying you to bed when exhaustion won, Carina massaging your back when the pain made sleep difficult, and both of them showering you in affection.

One night, as the three of you lay in bed, Maya traced circles on your wrist. “I was so scared,” she admitted softly. “When I saw you collapse, I thought—” She swallowed hard.

Carina squeezed her hand. “We both did.”

You kissed their hands, your voice steady. “But I’m here. Because of you two.”

Maya exhaled, then pulled you into her arms, Carina wrapping around both of you. “Forever,” she murmured as Carina leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

The following weeks were filled with slow healing, laughter, and the occasional frustration of being forced to rest. But through it all, Maya and Carina remained your anchor, making sure you never felt like a burden. From cozy movie nights to Carina cooking your favorite meals, their love surrounded you in every moment.

Maya had taken to being your self-appointed cheerleader, filling your days with lighthearted banter and dramatic reenactments of action movies just to see you laugh. Carina, on the other hand, had an almost supernatural ability to sense when you were overdoing it, her gentle but firm hands guiding you back to the couch with a warning glance.

One night, as you all cuddled on the couch, Carina looked at you with a mischievous grin. “When you’re better, we should take a trip. Just the three of us.”

Maya lit up. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere peaceful.”

You smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

The day finally arrived, and as you stepped off the plane, the warm embrace of the coastal breeze enveloped you. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was a melody that instantly soothed your soul. Maya stretched her arms above her head, taking in the view of the crystal-clear ocean while Carina adjusted her sunhat, her smile radiant.

“This is exactly what we needed,” Maya declared, looping an arm around your shoulders.

Carina nodded. “And exactly what you needed, amore.”

The small villa you had rented was perfect—a charming hideaway nestled between lush greenery and a private beach. The open-air patio provided the perfect view of the horizon, where the sun dipped into the water, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky.

The days unfolded in a blissful haze. Mornings were slow and easy, with Carina preparing fresh fruit and warm pastries while Maya brewed coffee. You would sit together, enjoying the serenity, letting the sun kiss your skin. Afternoons were spent exploring nearby markets, taking dips in the ocean, and lounging on the beach with a book in hand.

Maya was relentless in her attempts to teach you how to surf, her enthusiasm infectious even when you tumbled into the waves more times than you could count. Carina, ever the responsible one, made sure to remind you to take breaks, keeping an eye on your energy levels without ever making you feel fragile.

Evenings were your favorite—watching the sun set while Maya and Carina prepared dinner together, stealing kisses as they worked. The nights stretched long, filled with laughter, whispered conversations under the stars, and the comfort of being wrapped in their arms.

One night, as you sat by the fire, Carina leaned in and murmured, “You’re glowing, amore.”

Maya grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Told you this trip was a good idea.”

And as you listened to the ocean's gentle song, with the two people you loved most beside you, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have them—your anchor, your home, your heart.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of seagulls and the distant crashing of waves. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the sheets. You turned to find Maya still fast asleep, her arm draped over Carina, who was just beginning to stir.

Not wanting to wake them, you slipped out of bed and stepped outside onto the patio. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, a vast, calming expanse. The salty air filled your lungs, and for the first time in a long while, you felt whole.

Maya joined you moments later, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “I know that look. You’re thinking about something.”

You smiled, leaning back against her. “Just taking it all in. It feels like a dream.”

“Then let’s make it last as long as we can,” she said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

Carina appeared shortly after, a cup of coffee in hand. “Good morning.”

The rest of the trip continued in the same dreamy fashion. One afternoon, you rented a small boat and sailed along the coast, Maya at the helm, grinning like a child as she steered you through the glistening water. Carina pointed out hidden coves, and at one point, you all dove into the ocean, reveling in the cool embrace of the sea.

Another day, you stumbled upon a tiny, family-run restaurant tucked away from the usual tourist spots. The food was exquisite, and the owners welcomed you like old friends. Carina chatted animatedly with them in Italian, while Maya made it her mission to sample every dessert on the menu.

On the final night, the three of you took a walk along the beach, hand in hand. The stars shimmered above, the waves lapped at your feet, and for the first time in forever, you felt truly at peace.

Maya squeezed your hand. “I don’t want to go back.”

Carina sighed wistfully. “Neither do I.”

You smiled, squeezing both their hands. “Then let’s make a promise—we’ll do this again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month, but we will.”

And as the three of you stood there, wrapped in the magic of the moment, you knew it was a promise you’d all keep.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Unfit Babysitter ft Sukuna

A/N First one to go! I can’t remember if I came up with these or if they were dreams but here they are, I think I have three or four ideas already written down, just have to fledge them completely

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Sukuna looked bored at the child running before them, playing around with a wolf-like curse. The two ran in circles, the child trying to catch the curse, giggling escaping them as they did.

“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume called, catching the man’s attention, his eyes glancing at his subordinate letting out a hum in response.

“The village downwind has sent a group of sorcerers to our location; provided they don’t die on the way, they should arrive within the next hour.”

“Are they any good?”

“Their techniques were quite unique. However, they lack the talent to master such abilities.”

His disappointment was soon cut off as he dismissively turned his sight back on the child only to let out an annoyed grunt at the lack of said child in front of them.

“Should I retrieve them?” Uraume questioned, watching as the sorcerer stood up and made his way into the forest past the clearing.

“No, I will be getting the brat myself this time

“He was right; these maggots have not the first idea how to use their techniques in an effective way; it would have been fun to play with one that knew what they were doing,” he tsked, dropping the severed head of the sorcerer

“And you,” he growled, turning around to face the curse that stood next to Dokucha, dread filling their animal features as the sorcerer slowly made their way closer to them, a taunting smile on his face as he did

“I should have known better than to have allowed a measly cursed to live,” he drawled as he drew closer,

“Here I thought even a pest like you could be useful, but you aren’t even capable of keeping tabs on a brat,” he spoke, the malicious grin on his face growing at the fear growing on the animal as he raised one of his hands to strike them down stopping his attack as Dokucha stood in front of the wolf protectively

“Go away, Kuna!”

“Ha?! I saved your ass, and you dare say that to me?! Move,” he snarled.

“No! Mr. Snuggles protected me!”

“Who the fuck is Mr. Snuggles?!”

“Mr.Snuggles!” Dokucha exclaimed in glee as she gestured to the wolf curse, who nervously shook his head. Sukuna’s attention shifted to him being anything less than thankful for the ‘praises’ of the child.

“He’s the best! Much better than you, Kuna!” They gloated, placing their hands on their hips in a proud stance. The wolf looked their way, silently begging the child to cease their words, comedic tears sliding down its snout as their situation worsened with each second.

“Is that so?” Sukuna growled, sending a scathing glare to the curse.

“Mmhm, just like me! You’re no match for me, Ku! Give up, and I will show you mercy!” they called with an exaggerated laugh, escaping them, only to pause and let out a small squeal as the sorcerer easily reached them and took hold of them.

“HA! A weakling like you is nothing more than an insect compared to me! What do you take me for?!” He Cackled as he looked at the child now dangling from one of his arms by their feet.

“Y-you’re, You’re, a-a-a”

“Can’t even speak properly, and you speak about defeating me?!”

“You’re so mean, Kuna!” They snap a frown on their face

What do you think? This one is kinda meh

[fallininlust]

( IV ) DECEMBER EIGHTH

♱ — BIRDS OF A FEATHER ( WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER ) !

pair. sturn triplets x gn!reader genre. pure fluff, found family trope

word count : [ 2.3k ]

description : genuine support / the art of finding your people / very expressive love and affection for friends / christmas trees / isles of ornaments / wrapping paper crinkling / littered gift bows / tape galore / santa hats / layered warmth / cuddle piles / affectionate hugs / and pure platonic love

Gently, gently make room for happiness at last.

Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959 !

The key felt heavy in your hand.

You knew they’d told you to use it whenever you needed, to go into their home whenever you wanted because you were basically family, but you still felt like you were intruding. It was not your home, you constantly felt like you didn’t belong within their trio. But that was just your overthinking. They always told you they loved you like you were another one of their siblings. They adored you endlessly, hence why you had a key to their home in Los Angeles anyway.

Still, you were coming to terms with the fact that Nick had even given you a key in the first place. You remembered that day so well.

The three of them had sat you down, them across from you in their living room — the situation had resembled an intervention. And it was. Sort of. They’d told you again and again to make yourself at home, and you did! … After a few hours of being there. And when you’d return another day, the process started over again. So, with hopes that you’d finally catch on, they sat you down.

Nick had held his hand out, the shiny silver startling you. “This is f’you.”

You’d blinked rapidly. “Huh?” It was all you could manage to breathe out.

“It’s a key to this place, kid.” Matt had given you the slightest bit of context, but you were still so confused and your face said it all.

Despite himself, Chris had let out a chuckle, rolling his lips into his mouth when everyone’s gaze shot to him. “I didn’t mean to laugh, I’m sorry, but look—” he nodded toward your expression with another snicker. “—can’t help it.”

Your gaze had turned back to the more serious of the two triplets, breathing in slowly as you attempted to process what they were doing. “You guys,” you started to echo what they’d told you, “are giving me a key to your place?”

“Hey,” Chris started to feel bad when he’d noticed your genuine disbelief, “you’re here more than you’re at your own apartment, kid. Why shouldn’t we give you a key?”

“Exactly!” Matt had nodded, reaching over Nick to pat his younger brother’s shoulder. “Besides, even when we do go back to Mass’, you’re the one who house sits for us. It makes sense for you to have your own way in now.”

Nick had scoffed in agreement, looking incredibly nonchalant — he felt it was something insignificant, the complete opposite of what you were feeling. “It’s been long overdue.”

“I just—” your eyes started to sting, water building in the corners. You sniffled, quickly wiping the stray tear.

“Woah, hey.” Chris had almost cooed, feeling his own waterline start to flood, and standing up to sit next to you. “Don’t cry, ‘cause I’ll cry, dude.”

“Sorry, it’s …” you’d shaken your head slowly, feeling silly for tearing up over a measly key. But it meant so much more to you than that. You reached out to take the key Nick had for you, holding it so tentatively like it was going disappear and you wanted to cherish it for the time being. You felt an arm wrap around you, pulling your head onto his shoulder. Chris was holding you close against him, understanding your train of thought but being unable to verbalize comfort for you — he’d never been good with words. “I’m sorry.” You choked out through your tears.

Immediately, all three triplets had begun to shush you, each of them having some sort of hold on you as they comforted you through your vulnerable moment, and that only made you clutch the key so much tighter.

When your cries had turned to sniffles, they knew they could pull away. They’d looked at you with a new sense of softness, and the fondness that’d always been there seemed to triple in size.

They adored you to bits.

And you felt the exact same about them.

But still, the key seemed to weigh down the carabiner on your hip.

So, you knocked the three times you normally did. You heard the footsteps inside, but you also heard them halt right in front of the door.

“Nuh-uh.” You heard Nick say, maybe to his brothers? — yes, to his brothers. “We gave them a key for a reason.”

Chris seemed to be in agreement. “He’s right.” Then he projected his voice louder, so you could hear him clearer. “If you wanna’ come in, ya’ gonna’ have to use the key, kid.”

“Fuck you.” You replied without any heat, tentatively unhooking your carabiner to single out the key to their home. The key they’d decorated for you after a month or two of you having it, hoping to entice you into using it.

You heard his cackle through the door, rolling your eyes. You clenched your jaw slightly, still feeling like an intruder when you put the key in and twisted. You glared at them, albeit playfully, when they cheered as you opened the door slowly — pulling the key back with your arm.

Matt’s tired eyes greeted you with a smile to match them. “Can we go shoppin’ now?”

You deadpanned. “Y’all couldn’t have stepped out in the first place?”

“Hey!” Matt immediately went defensive. “I tried to get ‘em out the door the second we heard the fuckin’ knocks, but they refused. Don’t—”

“Alright, enough!” Nick snapped and pushed past both of his brothers to lock arms with you, pulling you ahead to walk with him. “God, they’re so fuckin’ annoying.”

Chris jogged forward, wrapping his arm around your neck, pulling you closer toward him in a headlock, and shaking you playfully in greeting.

Immediately you shoved your elbow into his rib cage, smiling when he groaned in pain and pulled away from you to rub at his sore side. A loud chuckle escaped you when he glared at you for what you had done.

Matt followed behind the three of you sluggishly, still half asleep.

Your eyes cast over to him with a bit of concern. “Matt, d’you want me to drive?”

“Nah, I can—” he was cut off by his own yawn. He pursed his lips sheepishly when you arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. “If … if you want to, I guess.”

You wordlessly lifted a hand, silently asking for him to toss you the keys. You would’ve offered your car, but it was smaller than their SUV, and you didn’t know how much was going to be bought. Their car had more storage for the potential mess of items they were going to inevitably spend their money on.

When you started the engine, you turned your head to face the passenger. “Where we headed to first?”

Before Matt could answer, Nick interrupted with his clapping hands. “I’m so excited to decorate together!” He went as far as reaching forward to repeatedly tap your shoulder.

“Me, too, Nick.” A breathless laugh escaped your lips at his evident joy.

“You have a Costco membership, right, kid?” Matt was quick to spit out the question before anyone could interrupt him again.

An impulsively startled bark of laughter left you, contagious enough for Chris to cackle along with you. “Random ass fuckin’ question, dude.” You saw the way he deadpanned from the corner of your eye, so you stifled your grin. “Yeah, I do. The fuck d’you wanna’ know that for?”

He shrugged lightly. “They got good Christmas trees.”

You looked into the rearview mirror, finding the other two triplets’ gazes. The three of you shared over dramatically disbelieving looks before you quickly focused back on the road.

Even the parking lot of the warehouse store was overwhelming, which meant the inside was so much worse. Nick and Chris flourished in the chaos, chatting among themselves as they walked ahead of the cart you were pushing. You and Matt looked around warily, sticking together with tense shoulders at the loud noises and constant flow of people surrounding every inch of the store.

Once Matt got a little bit more comfortable with some encouragement from his younger brother, he relaxed into his normal self. He jokingly picked up random items, making lewd comments amount the bulked sizes that Chris would chortle about. You could only roll your eyes at their antics, hiding your own amusement by biting your lip. Breathless laughs left your lips when Nick would reprimand them for it, looking around dramatically with wide eyes.

“You’re gonna’ get us kicked out, you idiots!” Nick hissed at them, tone sharp. There was no real heat behind his words though, just enough warning to make the younger two quiet down.

After many items picked up and placed in the cart as well as slapped wrists and items returned to their rightful places, the four of you had managed to find the Christmas trees.

The tall, perfect pines stood tall among the vast of packaged furniture for sale.

Chris’ eyes widened with childish wonder as he stared up at the trees, a similar glint shining in them. “Which one do we buy?”

“What color decorations do y’all plan on buyin’?” You countered. “If ya’ goin’ red, green, and gold, I’d say get the green tree. But if ya’ feelin’ blue and silver, the white tree’s better.”

Nick hummed, nodding in complete agreement.

Matt narrowed his eyes in contemplation as he stared at the trees intensely. “I feel like we all prefer silver. And it’s not like any of our actual furniture at home’s got gold at all. Maybe we should go blue and silver?”

“I dunno’,” Nick voiced his disagreement to the idea, “I feel like we should go traditional wit’ red, green, gold since it’s our first Christmas decorating our own place.”

“We see traditional decorations back in Mass’ though, Nick. We could switch it up and go silver here.” Chris agreed with Matt’s idea.

Suddenly, Matt turned to look at you. “I think you should decide, kid.”

“It’s not my house?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the abrupt attention.

The three of them stared at you blankly. Two years of friendship, one year of which you were at their house more often than not, six months of having a key to their place, and you still hadn’t gotten the message. Their house was your house.

You pursed your lips sheepishly at their stares. “… I think you should do blue and silver. It complements the interior better.”

Nick clapped proudly. “Thank you!”

Getting the big box in the van was a hassle, but you’d done it. Somehow it fit, so getting to the second location for actual decorations and ornaments was your next mission.

They’d suggested Target, but they were quickly shot down by you and your distaste for the company. Ultimately, the four of you had settled on Michael’s. They had amazing decor, and you were hoping to find some art supplies as well as wrapping paper for gifts.

Again, pushing the cart had been your job, so you told them you were going to find the things you needed while they chose out their decorations — all simple tasks, right?

Wrong.

By the time you’d found them again, they were arguing about ornaments.

You blinked at them a few times, sighing when they didn’t notice you.

“Boys!” You snapped, effectively shutting them up. They looked at you sheepishly when you glared at them for all the noise they’d been making. “Move.” You huffed and pushed them out of the way, looking through the decorations.

Much like the tree and the color combination for the house, you’d chosen the ornaments, the garlands, the tree topper, the house decor, the wreath, and the wrapping paper.

The four of you walked in silence to the register, the triplets blushing profusely in embarrassment when you apologized to the cashier for their loud noise as the employee rang up the items.

On the walk to the car, Nick’s eyes lit up before they dulled slightly — a lightbulb turning on then off. “We should’ve filmed this.”

You immediately shot him a startled look at the idea. “I woulda’ kept my ass home.”

“You’re no fun.” He huffed.

With a full car, and happy hearts, you drove back to their place with a content smile.

♱

Actually decorating the place had been a slight hassle simply because no one could agree. You tried your best to stay out of the arguments, obliging to their decisions because, again, you felt it wasn’t your place to decide. But when they’d turn to look at you expectantly, three sets of eyes narrowing when you’d hesitate, you figured it was only right to give your input.

It also took a lot longer than expected to finish the task. The sun had set hours ago, the darkness of night glaring through the open windows.

With a steadying sigh, you placed the silver star at the top of the white tree before you pulled away to admire your handiwork. When you backed away from the tree, a body barreled into you at full speed from behind. Your body jolted slightly, but quickly relaxed when you realized who it was.

Chris.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, his body practically vibrating with excitement as he stared at the fully decorated home before him. You reached an hand up to grasp at his forearm, keeping him there.

Before you knew it, Nick was on your other side. He slowly melted against you, leaning his head on your shoulder that was covered by Chris’ elbow. You tentatively leant your head against Nick’s.

The last to join the makeshift hug was Matt. He stood on the other side of his younger brother, standing similarly to his older brother on your side. Silently, you both reached out to each other, intertwining your hands for more comfort.

The four of you stood before a house turned home — a lived in, cozy, and welcoming home.

Your smile turned shaky, quivering with the realization that dawned upon you.

All you’d ever wished for on Christmas Eve nights was a home. And here you’d found it with three boys whose hearts were made of gold.

icarus inquires . . .

i’m ngl, i didn’t ever think i’d finish these lmao. finals got to me and i wanted to kms, so i fully gave up. but i’m back and determined. enjoy <3

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[wendichester]

⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃⋆ 'til death do us part,

summary. you catch a pattern at a couple's retreat and have to go understand. cue in sam's new (fake) wife!

pairing. sam winchester x reader ; fake couple

wordcount. 694

"You ready?"

Sam’s voice is smooth, deep, warm like honey. You nearly roll your eyes, but instead, you lace your fingers with his and plaster on your best adoring-wife smile.

"Of course, darling," you purr, giving his hand a little squeeze for effect.

The ruse is simple enough: a small-town cult disguised as a religious retreat, luring in young married couples for “spiritual renewal.” The catch? None of them ever leave.

So here you are, hand-in-hand with Sam Winchester, wearing a simple gold band on your finger that’s heavier than it should be.

The woman at the check-in table beams at you both, her gaze flicking to your joined hands. "Such a beautiful couple," she says. "How long have you been married?"

Sam barely hesitates. "Three years," he says easily. "Met in college. Love at first sight."

You feel your cheeks warm. You hadn’t rehearsed that part.

The woman sighs dreamily. "How wonderful. Well, we’ll get you both settled in. We encourage closeness, so no separate rooms here. Just you, your spouse, and the universe binding your souls together."

Oh, fantastic.

Sam keeps up the act flawlessly, rubbing slow circles against the back of your hand with his thumb as you follow her down a candlelit hall. Your fake honeymoon suite is small but cozy, with soft lighting and a single bed in the center.

The door shuts behind you, leaving you alone with Sam and the inescapable tension crackling in the air.

"Three years, huh?" you tease, slipping off your shoes.

He shrugs, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Seemed believable."

"You got a whole love story planned out?"

Sam smirks. "I could come up with one if you want."

You roll your eyes and flop onto the bed, feeling the mattress dip slightly under your weight. "Nah. I think I like this arranged marriage thing we’ve got going on."

Sam chuckles, running a hand through his hair. He’s too comfortable, too good at this. You should be focusing on the case, not on how right his last name looks on your fake I.D.

You clear your throat. "So, what’s the plan?"

"Figure out what they’re really doing here, take down the bad guys, save the day," Sam says. "Same as always."

"With a side of marital bliss," you add dryly.

Sam tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like calling me your husband."

You smirk. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like it."

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you, something unreadable behind those sharp hazel eyes.

For a second, the whole act slips into something dangerously real.

"Maybe I do," he finally says, voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips.

You should say something snarky, make a joke, something, but your mouth is suddenly dry, and Sam is still looking at you like that.

Like maybe pretending doesn’t feel so much like such a burden.

The case should be your first priority. The weird chanting you heard earlier, the way the other couples here seem too happy, the fact that you might be in real danger if you don’t figure out what’s going on.

But all you can focus on is the way Sam’s fingers brush against yours when he leans down, resting his weight on his hands beside you.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," he murmurs, his voice softer now, heavier.

You nod, pulse thrumming in your throat.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

The space between you crackles with something unsaid, something waiting.

But Sam pulls back first, shaking his head like he’s clearing a thought from his mind. "Big day tomorrow."

"Right," you say quickly, swinging your legs onto the bed and yanking the covers up.

A beat of silence.

Then Sam reaches over and turns off the light.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of every breath he takes beside you. Of the warmth of his body inches away.

Of the fact that you’re still wearing his last name.

And that maybe he was right and you like calling him your husband. That you wouldn’t mind keeping his last name.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7

[sturniololuvz]

little sister sees chris drinking/smoking underage and goes to rat him out

lol ! okayyy

“Catching Chris”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : drinking

Y/N had always looked up to her older brothers, the Sturniolo Triplets. They were funny, protective, and (most of the time) pretty cool. But being the youngest at 13 meant she often got left out of their teenage adventures.

Tonight, though? She had accidentally walked into one.

The Discovery

Y/N had been searching for her hoodie, convinced one of her brothers had stolen it, when she heard a clink from the kitchen. It was late—way past the time when any of them should have been downstairs.

Curious, she tiptoed toward the sound.

That’s when she saw him.

Chris was leaning against the counter, a red plastic cup in his hand. At first, she didn’t think much of it—until she saw the bottle next to him.

Her eyes widened.

“Chris?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, fumbling with the cup before turning to face her. “Y/N?! What are you doing down here?”

“I was looking for my hoodie,” she said, crossing her arms. “What are you doing?”

Chris hesitated for a second before sighing. “Look, it’s just one drink. No big deal.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious? You’re not even 21! Does Matt and Nick know you’re doing this?”

Chris groaned. “No, and you’re not gonna tell them.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Oh, I so am.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “Dude. No. Come on, it’s not like I do this all the time.”

“Don’t care,” she said, already turning on her heel. “You’re so busted.”

The Aftermath

It took Y/N exactly 30 seconds to wake Matt and Nick.

“Guys!” she hissed, shaking Matt awake first.

“What?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Chris is drinking in the kitchen!”

That woke him up.

“What?!” Matt shot up as Nick groaned.

“You better not be messing with us,” Nick grumbled.

“I swear!” Y/N insisted. “Come see for yourself!”

The three of them marched down to the kitchen, where Chris was still standing, guilty as ever.

“Bro, really?” Matt said, crossing his arms.

Chris groaned. “Y/N, you snitched?”

“Obviously.” She smirked.

Nick grabbed the cup from Chris’s hand, sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose. “Dude, this is nasty. Why would you even want to drink this?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t gonna get, like, drunk or anything. I was just trying it.”

Matt sighed. “That’s still dumb, man.”

Nick dumped the drink into the sink. “If Mom and Dad find out—”

“They won’t,” Chris cut in. “Because we’re not telling them. Right, Y/N?”

She grinned. “Hmm. Maybe I should tell them, just in case.”

“Y/N!” Chris whined.

Matt chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Nah, I think she did her job already.”

Chris groaned. “Great. Now I have three parents.”

Y/N smirked. “Yep. And don’t you forget it.”

And just like that, Chris learned the hard way—when you have a little sister, nothing stays a secret.

[last-herondale]

You Are Enough Pt. 7

Astarion x Fem!reader

Fluff

AN: how we feeling? This is the fic for the poll!

Enjoy! 🤘🏼

Part 6

The tension in the room was palpable. Almost as if you could reach out and grab it. Your group sat at the table, arguing between themselves as you tried to take in as much information as possible. The room was filled with your allies and there was a buzz with the daunting mission before you.

Infiltrate Moonrise Towers and kill Ketheric Thorm.

Lae’zel was arguing strategies with Gale as to how you all should approach the towers. You were not surprised to see Lae’zel had opted for a direct show of strength, whereas Gale preferred a craftier approach to the mission.

During the whole ordeal, you tried to stay grounded and not fall into a panic ridden state. Astarion had opted to not take part in the meeting knowing this exact thing would happen.

“I’m sorry darling, but I don’t see the point in standing around for hours listening to the group squabble over battle plans that will never come to fruition, because let’s face it we both know that this whole blasted mission will turn into chaos—as it always does.”

While you agreed with Astarion, you believed it was important to be there and show support. It was a daring plan, the whole operation. The most dangerous plan since coming into the shadowlands.

It was turning into hour three of the meeting and Wyll and Lae’zel were mapping out plans for yet another approach when the doors to the meeting room opened. You glanced up and were shocked to see Astarion standing there in the doorway with a wild look in his eyes.

Before you could register a look of concern he had crossed the room in a blur, appearing in front of you as he cupped your face in his hands. You only had a moment to see his tousled white hair before he pulled you in for a kiss.

This kiss was like nothing you had experienced from him before. It wasn’t playful, or teasing like he usually was. This was desperation. This was consuming you as if you had been gone years rather than hours.

Your body was tense only momentarily, before you naturally melted against him, responding to his lips and hands on you.

The room grew quieter as people murmured and muttered at the spectacle.

When Astarion finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your face as he inhaled deeply, brushing his forehead against yours. His breath was uneven, as if he had been running. His fingers trembled against your skin.

Then, as quick as he entered, he was gone. Without a single word he turned and strode out of the room.

The room, which only moments earlier had been a constant roar of voices was now oddly still, save for the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and your face was flushed as your companions looked to you for an explanation.

“So,” Shadowheart said after a moment, raising an eyebrow, “I take it we’re supposed to act that didn’t just happen?”

Gale cleared his throat, his hands on the map, “Well, I think I would prefer that. Yes…”

Karlach seemed amused, her arms crossed as she smiled, “Well that was something.”

Lae’zel scoffed, “Sentiment is a weakness. Let us refocus!”

You barely heard any of them.

Without hesitation you pushed your chair back and went after Astarion immediately.

You found him outside, just beyond the glow of the torches, pacing near the end of the Inn’s protection. His hands were braced on his hips and his head was tilted down toward the ground, his body ridged with tension.

He heard the sound of your footsteps and turned. His expression softened when he saw you, but only slightly.

“Astarion. What was that?” You asked, approaching slowly, your eyes searching his.

He raked his hands through his hair.

“Well, clearly I thought a declaration of love would save you from that mindless meeting—“

You crossed your arms, “Don’t do that. Don’t deflect. That wasn’t some grand plan or even just an impulsive kiss— Star, you were shaking.”

He let out a breathy, bitter laugh, looking away from you. His jaw tightened and his usual smirk was gone from his face.

“I just— had to do it.”

“Why?” You asked softly.

He hesitated, and you thought he might deflect again, but he just took a step closer to you, his voice quiet.

“I can’t stop thinking about what we have ahead of us. Thorm, the castle, what lies ahead in the city…” he shook his head, “The danger we face is unparalleled.”

His eyes bore into yours, his brows furrowed.

“I couldn’t stop thinking…What if something happens to you? What if tomorrow, something takes you from me? What if I never see you again? What if—“

His breath caught and he shook his head again.

“And gods, I couldn’t stand it. I had to see you, I had to touch you. I had to remind myself that you’re still here— that your still—“

He exhaled sharply.

Your chest aches at his words and the fear on his face. You reached out and took his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with his. You felt his body relax slightly at your touch.

“I’m here Astarion,” you said softly, “I’m right here.”

He sighed, and laughed weakly, “For now.”

You squeezed his hand. “Forever.” You said fiercely. “It’ll take more than Ketheric Thorm to take me away from you.”

His expression softened, yet his eyes traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize every part of it. As if he was afraid you would disappear.

“Don’t promise me the impossible,” Astarion murmured.

You pulled him closer, resting your forehead on his.

“I mean it. Forever.”

He closed his eyes, breathing you in, grounding himself on your warmth. His other hand came up to rest on your waist holding you there. Not possessive, or demanding— just needing…

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you,” he whispered.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make sure that we both come out of this, won’t I?” You smiled, whispering back.

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. He smirked, brushing his lips against yours, not kissing you yet.

“What a terrible burden I’ve put on you, my dear.”

“For you, I will endure it all, in stride,” you grinned, nudging your nose to his.

This time he kissed you, but there was no desperation there. There was only comfort, only love. Only a sealing of that promise that you would do anything to keep.

[suratan-zir]

an extremely long and personal rant, you're not gonna gain anything by reading it, and if you do decide to read it in its entirety - I'm so sorry

I just need to vent, and this blog is the only place for me to do so. I can't tell the whole story, it's very long, messy, and personal. But long story short: there's a man who's been an unshakable influence on me for almost two decades. He shaped my life and molded me into the person I am today, one way or another. Oh, and he just so happens to be a covert narcissist - not like in those stupid dramatic tiktoks, but in a very real and infuriating way.

We said goodbye. We've been in no contact for over three years since I left the occupied territories. Since Savita's death, I haven't been doing all that well. I've been spiraling, quite frankly. Eventually, when everything else failed to help, I messaged him. Following a series of mostly dry and noncommittal replies, which always ended with "Write me more, I'll be waiting!" from him but contained no questions, no real engagement, no reactions to what I was saying at all - I said, "either drop this BS and start really communicating with me, or tell me straight to go fuck myself, but nothing in between, please."

So, finally, he tells me, "Look, I reach out first, I take the initiative. Let's talk about movies. What would you recommend for me to watch?" and recommends a movie himself. It's just a normal friendly conversation, right? No, the fuck it isn't. With people like this, everything is about control and power, about the opportunity to put you in your place.

Here I present to you our "normal" texting:

me: I watch mostly horrors. We have this tradition of watching a horror movie on the weekends, even though they never scare me. There's been a very recent one starring Hugh Grant - it's not so much a horror as it is a thriller, IMO. But I really enjoyed it. To understand some things better, you may need to know a little about the Mormon sect. But it's not necessary. (Now, dear reader, if you haven’t found anything offensive in my message, you didn’t look close enough, I guess.)

him: I am amazed by your arrogance - "you should know at least a little about the Mormon sect."

me: Why are you being like this? I only told you this because I myself didn’t know anything about the Mormons before the movie, except that it’s a cult in the US. I knew nothing about their rituals, beliefs, etc. This wasn’t directed at you. This wasn’t arrogance. I don’t even know if you watch horrors, but it was the first movie that came to mind because it was the best out of the recently watched.

him: This is such nonsense. Horror is for fear - that is, for teenagers. If there’s no need, then there will be no particular fear - why watch… to awaken old memories when this film still evoked the necessary emotions? As if there are no genres except horror and comedy. Noir, for example. Biopic. Historical. Melodramas. Art house, etc. Why limit yourself… aaaah, it’s to proudly say "I only watch horrors, but they don’t scare me."

me: No, not for that reason. This is my favorite genre because it's the easiest for me to watch and because we have this tradition—to watch horror movies on weekends. You (not only you, but also the film industry as a whole) have a very limited view of this genre. You don't watch it just to be scared. Just like any other movie, you watch it because it’s interesting. Because it evokes some emotions, it doesn’t necessarily have to be fear. Not all horror movies are jump scares and girls climbing out of TVs. I perceive them more as movies that should keep you in suspense, not as something that scares you. People have different tastes, what can you do?

him: A film that keeps you in suspense… I wonder why (fear, of course) comedies don't keep you in suspense, huh? And what else is there in horror? The realization of a child's need for a specific experience of fear. And this is not about tastes (taste is a personal preference). This is objective. And it's easier to watch because there is almost no plot.

me: Wow, you’ve only been watching bad horror movies in your life, then. You're not being objective at all now. You can't consider an entire genre, which is very broad, so narrowly. Heretic is formally classified as horror, but it's not about "fulfilling a child's need for a specific experience of fear." We're talking about different things. Often, horror elements are used as metaphors - not directly as horror. Not to make you afraid, but to make you think about something, to convey an idea in an unconventional way. Don't be so biased. No plot? You have to watch Hereditary or The Empty Man several times to notice everything you missed the first time because there are so many details, and the plot is so twisted.

him: A twisted plot does not speak of the quality of the film, but only of the quality of the mess in the director's head. The best films usually have a clear plot.

me: You could also say that comedies are for children because they like to laugh, and biographical films are for the elderly because they're interested in the past. You can basically say this about anything: Why watch comedies? Just to laugh? Why watch melodramas? Just to compensate for the lack of romance in your life? Why watch dramas? Just to feel sad? Etc. Only scientific and educational documentaries would remain because they have an "objective" benefit. Not everything is so one-sided, and a film has to be very bad to evoke only one emotion in you. Good films aren't arranged like that, and genres often overlap. As I said, many different films are formally classified in this category. The Lighthouse is also considered a horror film, but its goal isn't to scare you. There are psychological horror films, atmospheric ones, dramas, etc. If you follow this logic, then any strong emotion is a "childish need." Adults also cry during dramas and get anxious during thrillers. A movie is good if you don't regret watching it.

Him: Oversimplified, common man's view of genres - don't confuse like/dislike with good/bad.

me: Well, I’m a "commoner." That's my opinion. Who's to talk about arrogance… How does a simple conversation about cinema turn into an argument? Why do you have such a need to prove that I'm wrong about what I like instead of just sticking with your own? It’s strange. You can't prove that all films classified as this genre are bad. Simply because it's objectively impossible - they're too different. The genre is broad and often mixed with others. Maybe you're just sad that you don't watch films with anyone on Saturdays, with disgusting dry pizza and wine? When this is all over, we'll watch a good (good!) horror movie together, and you'll tell me all about how much you didn't like it :)

him: "You should know first…" is arrogance. And to claim that comedy is for the elderly is philistine segregation. I'm not saying that they're all bad. I'm saying that the plot is overly twisted because of the mess in their heads and to hide a weak script.

Me: What? I didn't claim that comedy is for the elderly. It was a deliberately absurd statement that directly mirrored yours. Of course I don't think so - it's stupid. That was the point. -----------------------------------------------------------------

If your head hurts and you're losing your sanity, I'm sorry. Imagine how mine felt. And it wasn't enough for me - oh no. We had a phone call later. Despite my desperate attempts to stop this idiotic argument, he was persistent. I watched the movie he recommended (didn't like it, but oh well), but he said he's not going to watch mine. Okay. Then he starts complaining that I didn't watch his suggested movie dubbed in russian. I explain that I don't watch anything dubbed—movies, TV shows, nothing. Haven't for over ten years now. You know what? He says that I'm MISSING A LOT by watching the ORIGINALS. That I can't possibly get everything there is to get when the movie isn't dubbed. I say that most of the things I watch are in English, and I understand everything. And if not, I watch them with English subs. "And what’s the original? Do you speak Ancient Greek? Do you know how little original English has in it?" WTF Still, he insists - you can't possibly get everything. I say that there are often puns and other untranslatable things, so by dubbing it, you have to write a brand new joke because the translation wouldn't work. Like, for example, "We're werewolves, not swearwolves" in What We Do in the Shadows. It was my favorite joke there, which would've been ruined by dubbing. "To understand puns," he says, "you have to know the language really well." Implying that I can't possibly know English that well.

Then he jumps back on the horror-hating train. I'm trying to explain that I don't actually watch movies that often. "Like, even this classic movie by Tarantino that everyone has seen, Pulp Fiction, my husband only recently talked me into watching it," - I add. "Pulp Fiction? But what's the movie title?" he asks. No, it is the movie title. "No, it's a genre. What's the title?" It is the title. I apologize, I say I'm sorry but I don't know what it's called in the russian adaptation. I describe the plot. "Ah, Криминальное Чтиво," he says. "Yes, that one," - I confirm. "There, Kate, there is your arrogance again."

My arrogance because I genuinely didn't know what it's called in russian. MY arrogance. I'm to blame if he didn't know something. I was supposed to predict he wouldn't know it and not embarrass him by mentioning such things. He has an English teacher diploma, among other things, by the way. The person trying to prove to me the stupidity of watching movies in the original language.

If you read this far - sorry. It's not about movies, languages, or anything else specific. It's nearly any conversation with him. That's how it's always been. The kind of person who would accuse you of everything they themselves possess and display. The kind of person you can't win an argument with because it's not about what you say. It's not about trying to hear each other. It's about power. About showing you that you're less than him. If I make a good argument, it'll be ignored or twisted. If I slip somewhere, I'll be ridiculed mercilessly. If I dare to complain about it, I'll be called overdramatic, overanalyzing, instigating. The only way is to stop playing his game. But I can't stop. I'm stuck in a fucking loop of thinking, "This time I'll be smarter, calmer, more mature, and everything will be different."

[doodle-sodapop]

Toony Ladies!!

I love the Disney toons, especially the girls, they’re so adorable!

[mammomlette]

thinking about how Belphie’s situation in s1 is so Blackbird (the song) coded

(Because I never stop thinking of lesson 16 and Belphie in season1 I could go on a word rampage about that arc.)

warnings: SPOILERS FOR LESSON 16 OBEY ME lesson 16 is its own warning guys

Notes: I basically just rewrote the s1 Belphie plot line. That’s it. It’s basically the exact same but written narratively lol. Also!! I plan on writing part 3 of the obey me as soulmate tropes (barb and dia are already done) but Solomon’s part is giving me such a creative block for some reason so it’s taking a while! Sorry!

Constructive criticism welcomed :)

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,”

Shouts for help echoed through the hallways of the House of Lamentation. Why did it seem nobody but you (and the man who tried stopping you from approaching the attic, Lucifer) could hear them?

You snook your way around the house, trying to avoid the stars visible from Lucifer’s doorway and other places you’ve seen him roam at night. Even if he was distracted listening to Levi’s TSL vinyl, you didn’t want to risk it. You were determined to go up to the attic and listen to the voice shouting for you to please help, so you could free whatever may be trapped up there or at least hear it out.

You thought for a moment his calls for help sounded akin to a blackbird singing a morning’s song, though there are no mornings in the eternal darkness of the devildom; only the dead of night forever.

“Take these broken wings and learn to fly,”

You carefully made your way up the stairs, “MC, finally, no one is going to stop you. Now’s your chance to climb the stairs.” How did this voice know your name? More importantly, why are they asking you for help? What got them up there in the first place?

Your internal questions halted when you finally came face to face with the person behind the caged door of the attic. He never said his name, however he did ask you for help, and who were you if not humane? You’re here as a human, after all. He instructed to you to make pacts with the six demon brothers, starting with Beelzebub, in order to gain the power to free him. Your heart hurt for the poor human who claimed to have been locked away for so long they’ve forgotten who they are and how long exactly they’ve been locked away.

Make pacts with my brothers, learn to set me free.

“All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive.”

Belphie has been waiting for so long, months now spent just sitting in the same room, air long turned stale. He could tell you exactly how many boards were on the floor and cobwebs were in the corners of the room. Of course, his brother had to lock him away. Of course, his brother chose Diavolo’s rule over his own little brother.

Finally, after so long, there was finally something. A human no less, who had finally managed to enter the attic. If it had to be a human who would save him, so what?

He had been waiting so long for this moment to arrive. A moment to be free again, and even a moment to seek revenge.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,”

All Belphie heard at night now was the voice of this human. It’s strange how much comfort its grown to bring him, given his plan. But the voice of his brothers and his dead twin would be much more comforting to hear, and his sister was a much more comforting presence.

He knows he won’t miss you when you’re gone, or else he just wouldn’t go through with it, he just wouldn’t continue to manipulate you into working to free him just for him to kill you. But he will miss the routine of having a concerned voice chirping at him in the dead of night while everyone else is asleep. He’s sure Beel will suffice.

“Take these sunken eyes and learn to see,”

At last the moment came, you had finally freed him, even if you weren’t there when the cage opened, he knows it was you. Had you finally made a pact with Lucifer? Is that why he’s free? Credit given where credit is due, you were surprisingly competent for a human. It’s a shame the fate that befalls you. The fate Belphie has the power of stopping, but chooses not to.

Your eyes were so tired he noticed in the brighter lighting of purgatory hall. Sunken and tarnished by dark bags. Was this the result of your late night visits to the attic? Had you just been working too hard? Who knows, I’d rather, who cares? Any pity he felt, he swallowed down and it was quickly drowned by his seething and growing hatred for your kind. Maybe in another life, he and Lilith would be sneaking down into the human world to watch you and your kin, but not anymore. You can’t teach him to see humans as more than vermin.

“All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

A humans life is always only building up to death. It’s what every human spends their life anticipating, waiting for the sweet relief or curdling torture of death. Would you feel dread in your last moments? Perhaps irony? He never could grow fond enough of you to change his plans, but you did plant an invasive seed of interest in him. He hates how he wants to understand you now more than ever, how does the human mind and spirit face death? Are you different from the countless other humans he’s killed? Are you more accepting?

It’s sad to say that the only regret he has from killing you is not making it last long enough for you to express your final thoughts to him. If only he had dragged your death out longer, given you time and air to carefully pick out your last words, maybe even a last emotion shared just with him. The thought of wanting to be the one to see your dying face, hear your dying thoughts and feel your dying senses feels quite intimate for a murderer and the murdered. Maybe in another life you weren’t unfortunate enough to be born as a human. In another life, he thinks. He dwells on the ‘ifs’ too often.

It’s only natural for humans to die. They wait their entire life for that moment of freedom, really he gifted you by killing you while you were still well loved by those around you, his brothers. Oh, his brothers will be mad… they’ll get over it, in time. They can’t love you enough to stay mad at their sweet little brother, right?