#even though that's how it's often expressed

[hypnagogics]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

@andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @wilddrown @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @spncrrdlvr @flowrmoth

[sunflowerwinds]

new look | s.a

summary: your girlfriend surprises you with a new haircut and piercing while your babysitting isha for the night. with her new arm missing, sevika adapts to one arm. being as caring as you were, you try to help her as often as possible.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: nothing but fluff, tiniest bit of angst if you squint, isha & jinx being sevika and reader’s daughters <3

word count: 2.2K

a/n: TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY??? i’m insane. also arcane ends soon and i’m genuinely so terrified omfg. enjoy MY LOVES!!!

It was a night when Jinx decided to swing by you and Sevika’s place to drop off Isha for a few hours when your girlfriend revealed her new look.

You were cooking a simple rice and chicken meal with Isha being your little helper for the night. She was perched up on the counter, bunny ears on the top of her messily blue-painted hair to match the girl she admired the most. Her head was tilted as her small yellow tight covered legs swung back and forth as she awaited your next instruction, golden eyes wide with curiosity.

“Okay now, my little sous-chef, can you pass me…” You hum as you stare at the raw chicken on the cutting board, thinking about what seasoning to add other than salt and pepper. “Oh! Cayenne pepper, please.”

Isha nodded with a determined expression, turning her body to look at the small rack of spices on the countertop. She reaches over to snatch the seasoning of your choosing, placing the container in your palm. You grin at her, bopping her tiny nose with your finger. She scrunches her nose back with a laugh under her breath.

“Thank you. Now I’m going to lather it to spread the seasoning around so every bite is delicious,” you explain to the child even though you were about 90% sure she was just watching you.

You place the first cutlet into the pan, watching it sizzle against the metal. Isha’s mouth drops with a soft gasp, holding onto her bunny ears as she leans over to watch the little bubbles pop in the oil. As you wash your hands to be rid of raw chicken and crumbles of seasoning lingering on your fingertips, you make sure to keep an eye on the adorable child.

You dry your hands on a soft gray beaten-down towel hanging off the stove, turning back to cooking the chicken. You’re so distracted with flipping the few chicken breasts over that you don’t even hear the front door open. It isn’t until Isha jumps off the counter, letting out an excited noise as she scurries to the front door.

“Hey! Isha, you need to be careful…” You trail off as your eyes follow to where she is running.

There stood your girlfriend in a dark gray tank top and her usual pair of low-waisted pants with a leather belt holding them up. You immediately noticed the extreme haircut your girlfriend had gotten, eyebrows raising as you made your way over to her. Her arm patted Isha’s back as the child snuggled her face to one of her meaty legs.

“Sevika?” You chuckle out of shock as you walk over to cup the sides of her face.

“You like it?” She asks timidly, her lips twitching into a grin at your bright eyes.

You nod slowly, eyes widening when you catch a glimpse of a small dot underneath her bottom lip. You tug her face closer, causing her to make a noise of surprise at the jolt.

“And you got a labret piercing?” You gasp.

“Thought I’d… get a new look, you know?” Sevika chuckles at how close you are examining the fresh piercing and haircut.

“You look…” You pause trying to find the right word. You glance down at Isha who was now staring up at the large woman, examining her new look as well. “Badass.”

You wanted to say she looked good enough to push onto your bed to take her right now but didn’t feel it was appropriate to say in front of the child. Isha nodded in agreement, signing ‘super cool’ to Sevika. You both chuckle in amusement at her words, rubbing at her fluffy hair.

“You ready for dinner?” You question the tall woman, kissing her cheek gently.

Sevika blinked as you didn’t freak out like she thought you would.

“Uh, yeah. How long do we get the kid for?” Sevika kneeled to hoist Isha up onto her only arm, letting her crawl over her shoulders.

Isha situates herself on Sevika’s shoulders, eyes widening at the sudden height change. She released soft noises of shock as Sevika made her way over to where you were now standing in the kitchen, setting all four dinner plates.

“Jinx should be here soon for dinner. She just dropped Isha off and said, ‘be back for dinner, Mrs. Lefty. Don’t wait up.’” You mimicked the blue-haired girl's voice.

Sevika hummed at your words as she grabbed her designated plate which you had carved her initial into. You beam as you feel Sevika’s lips delicately kiss your cheek, telling you thank you for dinner. Isha makes a noise along with a tap to Sevika’s head.

“What is it, kid?” Sevika questioned Isha as she set her plate down where she would eat.

Isha points to you and leans down to poke at Sevika’s cheek. You furrow your brows at her but when you realize what she meant, your heart softens.

“She wants to give me a kiss too, Sev,” you beam at her.

Sevika’s eyes soften as well as she holds her arm out so that Isha could climb off. She lets out a few soft grunts as she hangs off of Sevika’s large bicep, releasing her muscle to land on the wooden floors.

You lean down to her level, awaiting Isha’s kiss to your cheek. She places a hand on your shoulder and jumps a bit to give you a quick kiss, smiling satisfied now. You kiss the top of her head before motioning for her to wash her hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go and wash your hands. It’s dinner time.”

Isha nods with an adorable grin as she marches to the bathroom. The second she leaves your view, Sevika turns to you with wide impatient eyes.

“Do you actually like it?” She questions, blinking her soft gray eyes at you.

You step into her with a small smile, cupping both sides of her face once again.

“Yes, Sevi. I love it. I actually like it a little too much,” you admit as you brush a few of the falling strands out of her face.

Her strong brows raise at your words, eyes flickering down to your lips.

“Yeah?”

Her demeanor switched from anxious and bashful to more self-assured. You playfully roll your eyes at her, placing a kiss to her nose as you knew you weren’t allowed to kiss her after getting the piercing.

“Mhmm, and in…” You trail off, not exactly knowing how long you had to wait until kissing her. “How long did they say you had to wait to kiss? Like a week?”

“Three.”

Your eyes widened at the time frame, scooping some rice onto your plate.

“Three weeks?” You deadpan to your girlfriend who simply nods along with you. “Well, they never I couldn’t kiss you in other places.”

Sevika’s smirk grows at your cheeky words, watching you leave her side to set Isha’s place setting. Her eyes shamelessly watch your ass and hips sway with every step in her pants.

Just as she was about to slap your ass, Isha comes running past her and you to eagerly sit at the table. Her small hands were a bit damp so you dab them dry with a towel.

“You wanna wait for Jinx to eat?” You question the girl.

Isha seems hesitant at first, the scent of the food tempting her. She nods regardless in agreement to wait for the elder.

“Good thing I’m already here!” You hear a familiar coming from behind you.

You jump, your body flinching at the sound. Sevika curses and grumbles at the blue haired girl somehow creeping her way into your home. You swore she was like a cat with how silent her movements were. Isha was the only one beaming at the sight of her, running over and hugging her striped pant legs.

“You two have to lock your door y’know? There’s some real weirdos out there.” Jinx leans down to fully hug Isha with a cheeky grin, winking at you two.

“Just wash your hands so you can eat,” you shake your head but smile at the girl regardless.

Jinx dramatically groans at your instruction but stands to her feet, her lengthy braids swaying behind her. When you give her a narrowed glare, you notice Sevika struggling with plating Jinx’s plate. She’s sighing as she keeps grabbing too much or too little meat or rice.

You frown and walk over to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Sev, babe, I got it. Go sit down and eat, okay?” You tell her softly, giving her a kind smile.

Sevika pauses her movements and she side-eyes you. The two of you had a talk about her taking a break from the mechanical arms. Jinx offered to build her another but Sevika refused; for now. You knew she would be hard-headed about getting help from you but you made sure not to make it a big deal. Little things like this in the comfort of your home made it easier.

She clears her throat with a sigh, nodding relectuanly.

“Okay,” Sevika’s hand comes up to cup your face quickly, needing to show a sign of affection as her kisses were put on hold for the time being.

You lean in it for as long as she’ll allow, which would be forever, but her stomach was betraying her. You chuckle at her rumbling gut and jerked your head to the table. Isha was already seated, spoon in hand as she waited (im)patiently for everyone else to sit down.

“Kid, you can eat. Don’t have to wait for these two lovebirds.” Jinx rounds the table from the bathroom as she plops down in her designated seat next to the golden-eyed child.

Isha, still hesitant, turns her head to look at you and Sevika. You press a couple more kisses to the woman's cheek before scurrying over your spot. Sevika followed like a puppy behind you to sit in her spot next to yours.

The second Sevika sat down, Isha dug into her food. You chuckle at her fast-paced eating before digging in yourself. You groan at the taste, nodding as you eat the meal you’ve prepared.

Sevika props her elbow up on the table as she digs into her food as well, humming at the flavor.

“This is delicious. Thank you, baby.” Sevika grins at you, nodding as she continues to eat.

“Well, thank Isha too. She helped me cook dinner tonight.” You turn to the child who was now washing some of her food down with water.

Isha set her cup down with a sheepish smile. Jinx raised her hand to brush her knuckle against her small cheek, a gentle smile on her face.

“Great work, kid. You might have to be the cook between us. Never been my strong suit,” Jinx shrugged as she devoured the meal in front of her. “I had other things to focus on.”

Isha grimaces at her words, causing you and Sevika to chuckle.

After dinner, you gave Jinx and Isha some leftovers as they left back to Jinx’s little hidden home. As you shut the door waving at the two, a new wave of silence settled over you and Sevika’s home.

You lock the door as a flash of Jinx’s face pops into your head, reminding you to do so. Sevika was washing dishes, her broad back tempting you to walk over and hold her. So you did just that.

You tip-toe over to her with a giddy grin, carefully wrapping your arms around her torso. Sevika, used to your addiction to clinging onto her, simply continued to wash the dishes to the best of her ability.

“You were a little quiet at dinner, baby.” You hum, placing kisses to the muscles decorating her backside.

She knew what that statement insinuated and she shook her head.

“I’m okay. Just… trying to get used to one arm,” she sniffs.

“I know you hate asking for help with pretty much everything but you can ask me to help.”

Sevika hums as you kiss all over her back, keeping them light and gentle. It only added to the domestic feel of your home.

“I know. It just feels—”

“Vulnerable?” You finish for her.

Sevika nods to confirm, muttering a curse when she slips up and drops a plate into the sink. You release her toned torso to scoot yourself right next to her, filling in the empty space of her left arm.

“You never have to feel hesitant to be vulnerable with me. I love being able to be that safe space for you.” You hum as you grab the plate and start washing it yourself.

Sevika turns to look at you, eyes rounded in admiration. She couldn’t believe how understanding and sweet you were considering where you both lived.

In her eyes, you were an angel in comparison to her.

“You feel safe with me, right?” You speak up as Sevika was again eerily silent.

Her gray eyes softened at your question before nodding as she rested her head on yours. You giggle at the feeling, being reminded of the height difference between the two of you.

“Always. You feel safe with me?”

“Of course, Sev.”

Standing in front of the sink, taking turns washing each dish as you spoke softly to one another. That was enough for you two.

TAG-LIST: @archangeldyke-all @theflyingforklift @strawberrykidneystone @prwttiestbunny @pumpkin-eater28 @yaeil @lunatakashi18 @caicreations @ayooooohush @lizzie2980

[misswynters]

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

[squishyputty]

Before I say anything else, I want to say that I'm not trying to argue with your point. Because you're right. And I think what I'm saying could come off as more arguementative than I intended. Rather, I'm trying to use it as a jumping off point for how magic could intersect with identity in a fantasy world.

For your consideration: a world where magic is tied to gender, not because of anything physical, psycholoigical, or even magical, or anything else, but because this world defines "gender" by what type of magic you can use. I think it could be an interesting way of discussing the arbitrary definitions often ascribed to gender. And it could be interesting to see how characters in such a world would express their gender, and conform to or go against expectations. I think this would work especially well with societies with a heavier focus on magic, such as how high elves and dragons are often written, though it could certainly work for humans, too! Anyway, I'm sure there are people who know more about both gender and fantasy than me who would do a way better job of exploring these ideas than I could, but it's just something this post made me think of, and I wanted to share it.

I’m far less interested in fiction where it’s like “This power/ability/prophecy is gender specific but trans inclusive” and for more interested in fiction that just… doesn’t do that

[xoxochb]

aphrodite!reader falling asleep on percy’s lap!!

— cabin ten ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: un-established bc it makes this way cuter, this is super duper short pairing: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

don’t move don’t move don’t move don’t move.

he shouldn’t move— should he? no. he can’t move, no, not when you of all people had fallen into a deep slumber atop his lap. he has to let you rest, you’ve been so utterly busy with your camp duties percy isn’t sure you’ve even taken the opportunity to sleep for even a second. he’ll let you rest, he’ll let you close your eyes for a bit and enter hypnos’ realm until he’s ready to return you.

this doesn’t mean he can help the uncontrollable blush forming over his cheeks, because you of all people chose to sleep on his lap! you— his crush! It’s like a dream, wait, is it a dream? would he wake up and find out none of this was real? no, it’s real, he feels your steady breath, in and out, and your hair draped over his leg. It’s very real. he doesn’t dare move a single inch, even if his legs feel static-y, those entering the same state you’re currently in. he wants you to sleep as good as humanly possible.

though, he would have to scold you later for falling asleep during the middle of his ramble. at the same time, however, he couldn’t blame you. the cabin ten lighting was utterly comforting and placed a cozy aura into the cabin. he wishes himself he would fall asleep alongside you. unfortunately, if he slept in this position he’d wake up with some of the worst back pains of his life. he fights to stay awake. to occupy his time for the remainder of your rest, he cards a hand through your silky hair, parting the strands, and placing them back together.

soon after, you begin to shift in your position, he catches the light flutter of your eyes opening and quickly departs his hand from your hair.

“morning, sleepyhead.”

it’s silent for a moment as you recollect yourself. “how… I- how long was I asleep for?”

you sit up from your spot on his lap. percy frowns at the loss of contact, nonetheless still happy that now you’re facing him and he’s granted better access to your face.

“an hour— uhm, an hour and a half.”

your brows furrow, though ultimately not caring since you’re not well-rested. “sorry for… y’know, falling asleep on you…”

“no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” says percy who stretches out his legs. finally. “are you feeling better?”

“like a million bucks.”

he laughs softly. “that’s good to know. maybe you should sleep on me more often.”

“don’t tempt me, I will.” your worried expression is replaced by a teasing smile. percy suddenly feels weak at the knees. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“I won’t mind that. my turn to sleep on your lap now?” he jokes. and he didn’t expect you to say yes to this, but happily you pat your lap and beckon him over. his demeanor is quickly switched, however, when the next words slip from your mouth,

“just don’t drool on me, kay?”

[razztazzel]

Thought it would but cute to revisit this old au of mines and give it some lore!

I’m really passionate about this au specifically because I LOVE sci-fi like ALOT… so I might make a lot of content of it… OFC Helios planet will still be going on trust

Non filtered version + lore ⬇️⬇️⬇️

LORE!!!

All the toons are aliens!!! On a completely different planet (exoplanet) about 4.2 Light years away from earth. The company, C.V. inc. aka Cosmic View Incorporated labeled it “Proxima Centauri b” (Its a Genuine exoplanet that’s the closest known to earth it’s so cool) Let’s just say In this au, Earth is extremely Sci-FI like, reaching advances where it wouldn’t be really…. Possible as earth is now…

And so they developed travel though hyperspace (just to clarify, Hyperspace is a fictional concept and not based on current scientific understanding; it's often portrayed as a different dimension where normal space-time rules don't apply - google or something) and managed to land on Proxima Centauri b! The people traveling were highly advanced scientists and they were like, woahhh look at these little whimsical creatures!!! But only like 4 “handlers” went Cause it was still in development!!! So it was kind of a suicide mission to put it frankly

They didn’t die.. Thankfully!!! And they successfully made it back probably old and decrepit, just with a few aliens that totally weren’t kidnapped or anything (They done took the mains, Besides Zee(Vee) she didn’t exist on their planet since she’s a robot made by C.V. Inc.) Vee was made by the soon to be handlers in an attempt to collect direct data from the totally not kidnapped toons! Her emotions are 100% programmed but ran through an advanced ai that study’s the emotion of literally everything living that’s around her so her emotions can be pretty accurate to a certain degree before the robot part generally makes way, Her ai detects any subtle or visible emotion and collects data of it to train itself on how to process and express emotion, but she’ll never have TRUE emotion

Unlike original Vee they’re smart and makes her entirely water proof and very much heat resistant, Zee just cannot be Submerged in water. Anyway a group of.. more like.. scientists in like…training became handlers as a little hands on experiment for them since the owner of the entire thing was really really interested in the toons and wanted to be involved with data processing so she assigned newbies (ish) to be the handlers.. She herself handles Andy (Dandy)!

The toons are all kept in separate rooms similar to those of like experiments just less cruel, like SCP type shit but cooler and not evil… looking… trust trust… so they can be observed and have data recorded…Besides confinement they’re actually treated really well! Sprout learns to bake through his handler and generally enjoys it so he’s allowed to bake every now and then, Shelby (Shelly) gets loads of attention for being an alien bro does NOT wanna leave, Genesis Rock (Pebble) is treated like a legitimate dog gets walked and has play time even though since he’s a rock he probably doesn’t need it, but data is data, Andy hates it there they tried to feed him plant fertilizer once cause he resembles a flower..

Anyway Vee is the only one who’s not in confinement and is generally like a little bot helper for the company, YES!!! THE TOONS ARE ALLOWED TO ROAM!!! Those lovely creatures are not locked away… forever…

TOON TRIVIA

Andy(Dandy) Now has 4 arms!

Astro becomes spiderman ( Ok not really he just gets 6 arms and is constantly floating, Studies show that he cannot seem to stop..)

Shelby (Shelly) Is a mixture of an alienized fossil with a freaky chameleon, with more feral-ish aspects like protruding fangs and sharper hands compared to the others

Genesis (Pebble) can literally walk on air

sprouts hair is ALIVE do NOT cut it he will scream and he has awful fashion sense because refuses to take the scarf off because it was a gift from cosmo before being taken by weird tall things he didn’t know hashtag last thing he has from cosmo hashtag fruitcake angst hashtag NO MORE FRUITCAKE/j

Zee (Vee)is specifically meant to look similar to the alien toons, She doesn’t have a handler though the handlers like to let her wear a coat, they think it looks cute on her small frame…🫶🫶

Sprouts handler encourages sprout to wear the cute aprons they give him, he always refuses… one day.. one day..

Astro generally cannot stop floating, luckily for some reason gravity won’t allow him to float too high so he’s just chilling fr

I think I’ll call this au Cosmic Veiw incorporation /inc or to put it simply, Alien or space au for easy tagging

[hiddensideoflife]

Chiron is often seen as our innermost wounds. Some astrologers say that they stem from past experiences in this life, but the placement of Chiron can also reflect wounds that we carry from our past lives as well.  Chiron is a very powerful subconscious point in the chart that can help us unravel some deep-seated insecurities.  These wounds and realities we experience with the people of the house placement may not be apparent or perhaps a soul is not ready to confront such traumas.  Those brave enough to go this deep are destined to awaken an inner power that will aid in intense spiritual transformation.  If Chiron has the highest degree in your birth chart, it is very likely that your wounds play a big part in your personality and part of the soul contract is likely to conquer those demons and to help others do the same.  Sign placement will give us more insight, but this is an overview of Chiron through the houses:

Chiron in the 1st House:   this is regarding a deep insecurity of one’s physical body and perhaps of oneself in a general sense. The 1st house sits opposite the 7th house so perhaps in a past life you were more in the public eye or engaged in relationships with others and those experiences have made you feel insecure, maybe this was due to public defamation or humiliation.  Now in this life you feel self-conscious about what people will feel about your appearance or presence.

Chiron in the 2nd House: this is regarding our values, wealth and speech.  Perhaps you worry about what you will say and how it will be received, or you speak in a way that others have ridiculed.  This could also be some wounds from family, perhaps they have not received you and your way of life. This position also is about wealth and assets.  Perhaps you did not grow up with enough money or even had to be responsible at an early age due to physically or emotionally unstable caregivers. 

Chiron in the 3rd House: this position speaks to an insecurity or wound that might pertain to siblings, and self-expression.  Perhaps you expressing your creativity was not well received in the past or there is a feeling of ���other” when it comes to your siblings in how you are viewed by them or even how you feel your parents are about you versus the rest of them.  The 9th house aspects the 3rd house so perhaps your values or beliefs are different and this is why you do not gel with them, but it may make you feel ostracized by them and could be the reason they are not as close.

Chiron in the 4th House: this placement shows there could be a wound with the relationship with the mother, homeland or roots on the mother’s side.  This could have also manifested in a difficult home life in childhood or at some point in life.  This might make you avoid matters of the heart.  This house aspects the 10th house of public image and career so you may throw yourself into work and career to compensate for not working through these issues with home and the heart.

Chiron in the 5th House: this placement shows a wound in romantic relationships, creativity or a difficulty with education.  Perhaps you avoid romance altogether or feel that you need a romantic relationship, and you attract people who remind you of this wound. You may feel very insecure in love, perhaps due to infidelity experienced in a past life. This could make you feel self-conscious about your creative pursuits or ability to study and learn. There could also be an issue with children, carrying them or you may feel some sense of distance with them.

Chiron in the 6th House: this house is about service, dealing with health, animals or legal areas of life.  Perhaps you struggle with your health.  It might feel difficult to stick to a daily routine or take care of yourself even though you know you need to.  This could also make you feel alone or misunderstood in work environments if you have a 9-5 type of job.  You may feel like an outcast with your co-workers no matter where you work.  This house also governs people we see daily, so you may feel a phobia towards running into people or try to avoid them at all costs. This house aspects the 12th house, which is about hidden places, foreign places. Perhaps you had some issue with strangers in a past life, so it is difficult for you to feel safe.

Chiron in the 7th House: this house manifests as a karma with “other people” in business, marriage and partnerships.  You may long for partnership be it marital or in business or to connect with others, but you may be self-conscious in how you are perceived by them. You may channel your wound by focusing on what others do that hurts you instead of focusing on how you view yourself. This might create a overbearing person that tries to control everything in the marriage or business to feel safe.

Chiron in the 8th House: this house is about transformation, death and rebirth as well as in-laws or joint assets.  There may be a fear of death or aspects pertaining to the 8th house like the dead or hidden, esoteric subjects.  Or you may struggle with being vulnerable, intimate or sharing your resources with another.  You may feel distant from your in-laws like they do not deeply accept you.

Chiron in the 9th House: this placement is about religion, spirituality or dharma.  This could be distant feeling from relatives or the father and the father’s family.  You may have a religion that is different from theirs or feel called to a path that is different.  This could also manifest as a fear of traveling or studying and learning higher values, religions or education.

Chiron in the 10th House: this placement is about public image, career or work.  This could also be the father.  You may feel distant or like an outcast in any of these environments.  So, in reverse to Chiron in the 4th, you may be a loner who prefers to be home than be in the public eye.  You may always feel like you can’t get on good terms with superiors at work or with people you work with. 

Chiron in the 11th House: Chiron here is about feeling uncomfortable in social circles or in network groups.  Maybe you are always the odd ball out so you try to avoid groups like the plague.  Perhaps in a past life you were ostracized in groups and not welcome to express your views when they were different from the rest of the group or network circle.

Chiron in the 12th House: Chiron here is a difficult placement as it governs the subconscious mind.  There could be deep trauma that could have manifested itself as abuse that you try to tuck away, or you even have forgotten.  This person may struggle with being alone and in isolated places, always seeking to be around people to avoid their own inner world. 

***Results will vary based on natal chart positions.  Stars are a guide, but always trust your intuition.

Namaste…

[honeyedclementine]

darling, come back to sleep

sevika x f!reader, fluff, post-s1/no s2 spoilers, established relationship (one shot, 1k words) ageless blogs, minors & men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

sevika has slept less and less since taking over for silco. even when she did make it home to your shared apartment—usually long after your day had ended, she would pace around the living room, muttering to herself. on a rare night would she make it to bed, tossing and turning against your sleeping form.

you understood the stress of the job, you yourself had worked beneath the man, though your job for him was never as important as sevika's. you kept fairly normal hours, usually just manning the books until you had everything orderly enough to call it a day. sometimes, on an easier day, sevika would sit in your office while you pored over a ledger, reading glasses low on the tip of your nose. these days, though, she was more often than not locked up in silco's old office, lamenting the mess he left behind.

you even took it upon yourself to fix her arm for her—with a bit of jinx's input, of course. you figured it would be a small comfort for your girlfriend, another thing she didn't have to worry about.

this was a rare night she actually made it to bed. you were just on the verge of falling asleep when she sunk down into the soft sheets, a weary sigh passing through her lips as she laid down with her back to you. without hesitating, you rolled over and wrapped your arm around her waist, tugging her closer to you. you felt her tense for a brief moment—even though you'd been together for what seems like forever, she seems to have her moments where being on the receiving end of affection is a surprise. after a brief moment, though, she relaxes into your touch and you wonder if tonight will be easy.

however, something causes you to stir long before the rise of the sun. you reach over to the other side of the bed, finding it empty with the sheets still warm. well, at least she hasn't been up for long, you sigh to yourself, rubbing sleep from your eyes and sitting up. you listen for the sound of her meandering—sometimes she paces through the living room or pours herself a drink. when you hear nothing, though, you climb out of bed and head for her small office.

you were originally against the idea of her bringing work home with her, but after a few nights where she didn't come home at all, you decided this was a well enough compromise.

sure enough, as you stand in the doorway, wrapping your arms around your torso to combat the cool chill of the season, you find sevika poring over something on her desk. there's no light in the room except for a dim table lamp that casts a green glow among her face; expression contorted into one of confusion and frustration.

"darling, please come back to bed," you sigh, hating how desperate you sound. it's not that it makes you angry or sad to not have her at your disposal, you just hate watching her burn herself out. "if it's not getting solved now, it can wait until morning."

"everything is time sensitive these days," sevika grumbles. at the very least, she doesn't have a glass of whiskey in her hand. so, it is a better night than most. "smeech is on my ass, i need to figure this out."

you're almost about to give up—to return to your empty bed and pray she makes it back by dawn, but something in you is tired tonight and misses her warmth. you approach her desk, noting the way her soft gray eyes flick up to you, watching your every move. you place your hands against the wood, eyes flitting down to the papers she's looking at, but you're too tired to comprehend what she's working on. you can see her exhaustion in her eyes.

cautiously, you bring a gentle hand to her chin, rubbing your thumb lightly over her scarred cheek. "you know why you can't figure it out right now? because you haven't slept in weeks. get some rest, look at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

sevika looks up at you, expression weary, but you can tell she's close to giving in. she leans into your palm, tilting her head and kissing the soft flesh. you take the moment to brush your fingers through the nape of her neck—a spot you know will hit just right for her.

"come to bed, baby," you try again. "i'll kill smeech myself if i have to, i miss sleeping with my girlfriend."

"i'd believe you if you let me train you with anything other than a butter knife," she retorts, grabbing your wrist and pressing one more kiss to it before tugging your hand away. for a moment, you think she's going to keep working and you prepare yourself for the disappointment.

"it's not a butter knife, thank you very much, we can't all have big scary metal arms as a default weapon," you tease. she surprises you by rising to her feet, towering slightly over you, and reaching for the lamp. the room goes dark and you reach for her flesh hand, thumb going over her pulse the way you always do—you like to feel it beneath your fingers, a reminder that through it all, you're both still here.

"come on," she nods towards the door, letting you tug her along back to your bedroom.

you continue forward with a satisfied smile on your face, dragging her back under the sheets. this time, she reaches for you and lets you settle against her chest, your face in the crook of her neck. with your weight on her, you can hear the steady beat of her heart and feel the pace of her breathing.

determined not to let her get up again, you wait for her breathing to even out, tracing out soft patterns on her skin as you do so. as soon as she's asleep, you let your eyes flutter closed.

sevika gets a little bit better at coming to bed after that.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiii can u plssss make headcanon for mr scarletella w a reader whos very stern or careless? Like, you can NAWT make jokes or make a conversation with this person because even if u text them its either: 1) they reply a year later or 2) they just send a ❤️ Reaction to your text. Like reader can not turn their frown upside down at all…

I hope this is what you wanted.

He finds your stern nature intriguing and appealing to him. Very appealing to him to say the least.

Does this sternness and Inability to smile and or laugh at a simple joke hinder his attraction? Does it fuck, he’s still very much interested in you to an obsessive and dangerously delusional level.

If anything Mr Scarletella enjoys filling the air with his one voice, telling you of his obsession with you and you’re not saying anything in response, only giving him a sideways glance, so that must mean you reciprocated them right? Right?!

He’d most likely talk your ear off and you can do nothing but listen to him, praying that you can at some point tune him out or something, knowing that Mr Scarletella would just follow you closely like a puppy dog. There was no true escape from this man and he’s too delusional and inside his own head to give you any breathable space.

Mr Scarletella would often keep asking you ‘you like me?’ And all he’d get was either a shrug or a grunt. Not having been much of a conversationalist as most people found your nature off putting and so they just avoid you all together.

Not Mr Scarlettella though, he was convinced that the grunts and shrugs were full sentences, thriving off of the idea that you’d only grunt and shrug towards him while giving everyone else a stoney stare or nothing at all. He genuinely believed that and it was terrifying to think of the implications of what he’d do if he believed someone else thought similar to him.

Death essentially but we all knew that. The man is not exactly stable in any sense of the word.

You don’t even bat so much of an eyelid when he gets up close and personal to your face, giggling like a lovesick school boy as his eyes darted across your face, taking in all the details and features you possessed that were uniquely yours and yours alone. Giving himself all the more delusional fantasies of you acting extremely out of character and clinging onto him, demanding for affection and so forth.

He’s most likely the type to fall for an idea of an person and if they act outside of what he believes them to be, he’ll either deny it as he tries to rewrite the image he has of you to better suit his fantasies, not wanting to think about how his false reality of the truth could easily make him even more unhinged.

Seriously the idea of someone not living up to his expectations that he’s made up is a thought you didn’t want to think about too deeply, especially with not how eager he is to kill for you, and instead remain truthful to yourself and keep an eye on him in case something happens.

Since your stern persona and people’s inability to make conversations or jokes with you, Mr Scarletella would find this more easier as he didn’t have to worry about someone taking you away from him. You were his and his alone and he had your nearly unapproachable expressions to thank for.

No competition for your heart? No worries for him as it meant he could cling onto you, continuing to ask whether you liked/ loved him throughout the day while kissing your face and pulling back in hopes of seeing if any change in your expression.

There wasn’t and Mr Scarletella hasn’t fallen for you harder then he already did.

[sheepispink]

A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

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Masterlist AO3

pairings: Simon Ghost Riley/ Reader (platonic or romantic, up to you)

tags: probably loads of military inaccuracies, anxiety attacks (possibly?), heavy angst, angst and comfort, paranoia, bad mental health, cuddling and literal sleeping together (up to you romantic or platonic)

A/N: I’d appreciate if no one complained abt the accuract/realistic of the story (ofc if its the characterisation of ghost that’s perfectly ok!) i’m open for criticisation for how i write etc etc but this is a sensitive topic and.. based off personal experiences 😅😅 so it’s very realistic to me even if its not to you!

This technically takes place after this fic but it’s not a big deal in which the order you read it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re an introvert, even if you do get excited really quickly, loud around people you’ve known for a while and love meeting new people. Yet still, you call yourself an introvert, even if that technically still makes you an extroverted introvert. You don't like the sound of an extrovert— someone who thrives off of others' attention and loves to be the center of it, who brightens their days with their friends and always wants to make plans with anyone and everyone. You like the attention sometimes; when Price mentions your name in a conversation, praising your skills, your heart thumps a little louder. Being at the limelight of the party isn't always the worst thing either, especially when everyone laughs at your jokes so hard they double over, grinning so wide you can't help it either. You love your friends, your teammates, even the random soldiers you’ve only exchanged small greetings with. The love for others is held tight in your heart’s vessels, bursting each and every time they make you smile or you just see their presence. You feel so warm and alive when you give them a grin in the mornings, even more so when they seek out your presence throughout the day.

Though, that only applies sometimes— never always.

A familiar soldier could ask you out to lunch and yet your chest begins to twist uncomfortably, like someone is wringing your intestines with their hands. Something screams at you when they say those words, like an invisible line had just been crossed that had been clear in everyone's heads. You had only ever spoken to those soldiers in the gym or around base, there was nowhere else even remotely personal you’d think to take them to. One on one conversations were not common either, since it wasnt that often. It’s not that you don't like them, it’s just.. not right. You’d shake your head apologetically as you force an excuse between your teeth. The regret you then express is a lie, along with the love you felt before— only reduced to a being who could never hold any of those things.

The truth is, you have a sick little parasite in you, it claws at that heart muscle, tearing away the flesh and devouring any love you feel for the people you care about and replacing it with an empty feeling which is always followed by an unreasonable hatred. Your mind grows dark, headaches permanent, as you live through the day as a skeleton of yourself— no longer able to hold any love within you as it slips past your bones in seconds. You don't like the boundaries you’ve mentally set for each person to be crossed, even if it’s a perfectly normal task. In fact, some may even say you’re scared of change. You don’t like to put a label on these things, hell you don't even like to think too hard on these things. It begins to make sense when you sit and reflect, piecing all the reasons for your behaviour together until you hit the final point. Soon you’re done, finally aware of the most significant reasoning behind your antics. The only issue is, being self aware doesn't mean you get any better; no matter how many nights you sit and stare at that mirror, nothing changes.

The only thing you gained was the ability to squash down the parasite from prying eyes. Excuses fall from your lips quickly, no matter how bad you feel when they give you that look of disappointment. It’s not your fault— you know you won't be able to handle an outing like that, you’d get too worked up. Why? You don't need to dwell on it, not right now. This continues for multiple people, multiple soldiers for two weeks, until you're ‘normal’ and you hang around others again. People begin to subconsciously catch on and so your little routine continues to carry on moving so well, staying right on track.

“Sarge? You aint comin’ to team night? Why?”

Ghost stands at the door of your quarters, dressed in his typical training attire whilst you’re sitting in something cozy, made for home wear. You have to fight the urge to cover yourself up. “Oh right.. i, uh..yknow, lot of paperwork to do. Thought i’d stay in.”

You say with a small smile, attempting to ease any concerns he had before but little did you know, he was already growing aware of your little issue, or at least the fact there was one within you. “Paperwork? On a Friday? You should be relaxin’.” You grit your teeth a little, the burning urge inside of your chest returning just like the sick pit in your stomach. It felt so awful fearing just a simple team night out, but it was just so late and you were so tired— you didnt have the energy to be rational the whole time, to think of your next move constantly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll come to the next one.” You shrug, turning back to your small desk as you pull another small stack of papers in front of you. His boots thump loudly against the floorboards, sounding like the heavy thump of your heart in your ears. It stops, suddenly, behind your back and your body stiffens as he leans down, looking at the paperwork you’re going through. It’s a lie— naturally, you finished it all. He doesn't even have to stare at you first nor visibly raise a brow; you’re already waiting for him to call out your bluff just as quickly.

“You can just say you want some time alone, yknow.” That catches you off guard, half expecting him to just tell you to stop whining and grab some drinks. His words were still difficult though, how could you easily just say that? Of course, the words itself aren't the hard part, nor speaking it—it’s the implications behind said words. An excuse means you have other things to occupy you, so no one dares to disturb you much after that, however explaining you want some alone time gives way to more questions. Specifically the first being: why? Then they begin to wonder if you’ve been doing okay recently or if you’re struggling with something. You dont like the idea of that at all— people thinking about you in that way. It feels weird, almost like it’s wrong. Sometimes you wished people would just not care, and leave you alone to wallow with yourself.

“Sarge?” You snap out of it, sheepishly scratching the back of your head as he still stands behind you and you turn in your chair, putting the best meek face you can on for the night. “What? No, that’s not why I declined. I’m not really feeling any alcohol today and a new episode of a series I previously binged on the weekend just came out. Sorry.. didn't want to make it seem i was ditching anyone for a show.” Perfect, an awkward grin had tied it all off into a well constructed excuse. Even if it was partially true and this really wasn't fake, it sure felt like everything you did was an act. After all, you really didn't want them to think you were ditching anyone, and you didn't feel like having any alcohol tonight. “A new series” He says gruffly, and you nod with a tight smile, teeth gritting so hard you’re sure they’ll break in a few seconds. “I’ll join you then.”

You blink once, twice, three times in pure utter confusion. Ghost—The Ghost, whose name is rumoured across the battlefield and known for never giving into idle small talk—wants to watch the series you lied about, with you.

You’ve never felt more guilty in your entire life, practically fumbling for a solution. You could just tell the truth, say no and admit you needed to be alone. But this is the first time he’s ever expressed wanting to hang around you, actually together and alone— and miss out on a team night?! He may just want an excuse out of it, but still, you can't just say no now. “Well yeah, i just..” You hate how there’s no easy way out of this in the slightest, torn between saving your own mental health or finally getting close to the teammate who you’ve been on eggshells around for nearly a year now. “My room’s not exactly clean--“

He cuts you off with a gruff, shake of his head, a scoff resounding in his next words, promptly embarrassing you too. “There ya go— knew you wanted to be alone.”

You fumble, not understanding how he managed to pry it out of you so fast, just a simple lie blowing your cover. “I said it wasn't like-“

“See you tomorrow.” He’s gone just as fast as he silenced you, heavy footsteps disappearing out of your door and down the corridors. What you couldn't wrap your head around is how fast he had figured it out and made you confess to your lies that fast— it was a real problem, something you couldn't just let slide. If he knew, did others too?

Unfortunately for you, the very much needed alone time didn’t help as well as it usually did considering this new information has threatened everything that made up the core of your very being—specifically everything keeping you glued together. You just couldn't sit there and possibly relax like you usually did when alone (more specifically think over everything you’ve done wrong until you quite literally fell asleep mid thought)— not when Ghost could clearly read everything you had ever thought about in your life.

That being said, you’ve been a nervous wreck all week, concentrating so hard on looking sane that you’ve barely paid a second of attention to things you should’ve listened to. It’s not like you slipped up regularly, but before that day you were already feeling pretty uneasy and now with still no relief and the added stress, you feel like you really might lose it any second now. Every time you see him, every word exchanged with your teammates—with another person—it eats at you, tugging further on the ropes you’re hanging onto. They’re already been pulled thin, especially since you’ve been put in charge of a group of rookies for the past few weeks now. Of course, you had pulled the short straw when assignments went round because not only did your group love to talk back, but they loved to test every limit by asking the most stupid of questions possible. It’s the second time now you’ve had to lecture one of the rookies about why you can’t just ‘throw a grenade at the enemies’. It’s only temporary, just basic training exercises and medical procedures they need to know until the Officer, who usually oversees them, returns from their sick leave.

You let out a long breath as you enter the small break room, also known as taskforce 141’s meeting room but they’ve let you lounge in here too many times to count. It’s quiet in here, Soap and Gaz both on missions and you assume Ghost must be too. It’s the first time you’ve been able to relax all week, knowing damn well Price is down in London with Gaz. Your shoulders sag, the miserable look returning to cover your features now that you don't need to pull that tight smile anymore. Your chest physically aches from how anxious you’ve been all day, the weight of the day’s mistakes and fears of the future swelling deep in your gut. You know it’s a Friday, know you should just take a long sleep but you can’t help but think about all you have to do for the days to follow. You’re busy the whole day tomorrow, a team outing you can’t deny no matter how much you really do not want to go. Just thinking of all the final work you’ll have to cram in on Sunday makes a splitting pain run along the bumps in your brain. Even your breaths begin to feel shorter, an uncomfortable feeling that you just still cant rid of no matter how long you take deep breaths. Your eyes are weighed down with exhaustion and yet your brain refuses to let you sleep yet. No, you cannot. If you sleep the night away then you’ll only have Sunday left for yourself, and that won't work out, will it?

You pick up the mug you had just stirred, hoping the drink would soothe at least something if not your dehydrated body. Taking a small sip, the hot liquid spills down your throat, leaving a warm feeling in your ribs. “Alone by choice or force?” A gruff voice rings out behind you, along with an arm reaching around to supposedly grab a teabag as well, is enough to make you flinch. Stumbling on your own feet, your mug jolts and the steaming water splashes against your shoulder. If you were worried about someone catching you so vulnerable before, you were certainly terrified now, especially since your skin was burning from a small startle.

“Fuck— sorry—“

Ghost’s gloved hand settle on one side of your waist while the other quickly takes the mug from your hands and places it upon the counter. You cant respond, barely processing the situation and everything just feels like too much and your skin feels so hot, you know he’s seeing you fall apart and still there’s nothing you can do—

Your thoughts snap to a blank when he presses the cold rag against your burning skin. Thankfully the layers of the training uniform stops any severe marks from forming. His other hand rubs your cheek, his mask so close it could brush your face, and you can actually see every speck of brown in his irises. You can't look at him for long though, moving your gaze away quickly, not when you know what you’ve done. For the past week or two you’ve hated him, painting the most horrible picture in your mind. It wasnt even on purpose, you’ve just started seeing everything wrong about him. He doesnt give the rookies much mercy, nor does he particularly entertain any of Soap’s antics even when the situation is pretty lax. He’s boring, he seems to care about nothing but himself somedays, he refuses to let you do something stupid and he never takes that damn mask off even when you’re all supposed to trust one another. You’ve lied to him, yes, forgetting about your hatred when he made you laugh with those gruff remarks. But he’s not the only one— no, you’ve began to hate everyone in this task force, picking at them and every little thing. It’s weird, you don't want to victimize yourself, because you know you’ve done just as much wrong too. But still, somedays you really can't look past the list of things you dislike about your own friends.

“Are you alright? I havent seen you all week.”

Of course he hasn't, you’ve been avoiding them all. It’s nearly impossible to think straight these days and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it so naturally, you just stayed away. The more you did it, the better it began to feel. Avoiding them was the solution— you were just the thorn in their side with your tricky mood swings and anxiety always painting them to be the villain. You couldnt just allow this to happen, to destroy them with your issues even if they had no idea about it.

But now, face to face with him, all you feel is unexplainable guilt for everything you’ve done to them— how could you even hate them for a second? His hand is still rubbing at your skin, nudging your face gently upwards just so you’d at least look at him for a second. “Really? The silent treatment now?.” He sighs and you hate yourself, how did you let this spiral to this point— to where he’s apologising to you and yet you wish you could just disappear. Isnt this what you wanted? For everyone to be kind to you? So why are you running— why do you refuse care?

Your lips press together as your teeth bite down on the soft flesh, torn from how much you’ve picked at the skin the whole week. It aches with anxiety, and your teeth hurt from how often you’ve clenched them so hard they scraped against eachother. The only thing you can do is stand there as Ghost fusses over you, trying to get you to move a damn muscle instead of falling apart silently like some kind of broken watch, unable to move forward or backwards. Just still.

“Sarge— snap out of it, look, I'm sorry. Okay?”

His hands are still on you, and you’ve begged for a day where someone would care this much about you and still, you step back, almost afraid. “I’m sorry, Ghost.” You croak out, your hands reaching up to your eyes as you wipe at your skin obsessively, trying to hide and stop anything from leaking. “Why’re you apologising?” He says gruffly, confused by all of this, this sudden onslaught of emotion.

He’s not stupid, he had a feeling you weren't quite yourself this week. Stupidly, he figured you’d just deal with it on your own. That's what everyone did, right? He knows he just takes a breather when he feels a little rough— even Price had his own battles. Comfort isn't a strong point for Ghost, not even when he was Simon Riley, never has and he never thinks it will be. He’s born and bred on violence and the coldness that comes after it, the lack of warmth even as hot blood trickles and emptiness consumes the space where his fellow soldiers should be. So watching you crumble right before him, apologising profusely while your body wracks with shaken breaths, makes something stop in him too. He doesn't know how he’ll do it, but he knows damn well no one fights alone anymore.

“Look at me.”

He says firmly, both his hands landing firmly on your shoulders, one hand even tempted to just force your chin up but you shake your head profusely. “Why not?” He stays patient for you, even if he knows he may have to force you soon— its the least he can do for you. “I cant look at you. Not after everything i did.” He pauses, hands now settling on your jaw in confusion, he knows this is moving towards an interrogation but he has to know. “What are you talking about?! What did you do?”

“I hated all of you! I avoided you all and destroyed our relationship, i fucked it all up.”

With that he cant stand to see this continue, a gloved hand firmly planted over your mouth as the other wraps around your back. He leads you to the couch even as you squirm, not caring in the slightest. He knows he has strength and not comfort, so he’ll use it to shut you up whilst the truth comforts you instead.

“Look at me.” He says sternly and you do, eyes snapping up with wide fear as you look at him. “That’s not true— okay? None of us consider our relationship with you ruined, not one of us has even mentioned you in a bad light at all.” He makes sure your whole body is pressed against the back of the couch, considering that you didnt particularly look as if you could hold yourself up right now.

“Soap has only talked to me about you once recently— he told me you helped him organize the training schedules for the rookies. Told me to thank you for it because he felt he did not express his gratitude enough. Do you understand now? No one’s mad at you– not one of us have even considered anything to have gone wrong.”

His hand grabs your own, settling it on the center of his chest so you can feel the pattern of his breathing, silently praying you’d try and match it. You can only blink at him though, slowly processing his words with each passing second until his hand leaves your mouth and your lips part, breath hitched before you swallow a sharp breath. “I’ve avoided all of you– i’ve been hating all of you.” You choke out, chest clenching with regret and the weight of unreasonable guilt and his other hand moves to hold your face again, his brown eyes piercing into yours with his silence.

“What is like to hate someone?”

“What?”?

“What is it like to hate someone?” He repeats, his thumb pressing gently into the curve of your cheek.

“I-...” You falter, thinking for a moment before your lips part again. “I dont like things that they do— the way they act and everything about them.”

“You’d avoid them too, right? Like that general you hated. Remember when he touched you and you pushed his hand away?

You nod along in agreement, breathing a bit slower to hopefully ease the pressure on your chest at the moment.

“Y-yeah.. i’d express my dislike clearly..”

“So why did you never push me away the past few weeks? You said you avoided us, but you would always speak to us if we needed to. You still helped Soap too.”

You pause, blinking at him in confusion now, you had convinced yourself that you hated them so why did you never.. actually express it?

“You’re also letting me touch you now and last week you didn't want to hang out with us, but you didnt want to hurt our feelings by saying that.”

You’re left silent, baffled and confused because in your head, you were being horrible to them, hating their guts like it was nothing.

“I think… whatever is going on in that head of yours.” He says slowly, tapping at your forehead gently as you look up at him with widened eyes. “You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve dwelled on those thoughts, so self aware of your own anxieties that you’ve distorted reality. You think you’ve done something bad, because you can't understand why you always feel so bad.” His voice is softer than usual, even if his words are still gruff and holds his thick Manchester accent.

Somehow that alone reminds you that Simon has never lied, not even once, to you. That stern voice of his is straightforward, doesnt mess around and forces his way through any problem. Just like he had just pushed himself to the root of your mind and destroyed your seeds of doubt.

“You’re allowed to talk to us you know. I have a funny feeling you’re scared o’ somethin’. Not sure what just yet.”

He doesnt force you to respond, just speaking his thoughts even if that’s what you usually do when you’re together. The couch creaks as he stand up, pulling you to get up aswell beside him. He places a hand on the crook of your back, gently encouraging you to begin walking towards the door. “Cmon, back to my room. Lets get you cleaned up properly.”

Before you know it, you’re sitting against the headboard of his bed, something you had only felt months ago when you first came here, scared and confused over a stupid hornet. You trusted him to help you then, but you dont understand why you suddenly felt that fear again. Meanwhile, your shirt is half off, Ghost sat on the bed beside you as he inspects the burns on your chest from the tea. It’s harsh, the skin reddened but not enough to be something serious thankfully. He presses a cool towel against it, soothing the stinging skin but he knows it’ll fade out soon enough. You’re wearing his old shirt, and he gave you some comfortable sweatpants too for good measure. You just watch all his moves so quietly, feeling like a ghost yourself in this moment from how detached you are. It’s weird, feeling so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Nothing too bad, should be alright by the morning.” He hums, lifting the fresh mug of tea he brewed for you and brings it to your lips for you to sip before he steals some for himself. “Is your chest still tight?” You blink, not expecting him to ask that of all things because you hadnt exactly mentioned that part and yes, it was. “How did you know..?” Your hand reaches out, silently asking for more of the tea he graciously lets you sip, unable to fathom how he brews it so perfectly each time. “You were clutching at your chest before and your breaths are a little shorter than they should be.” He’s seen straight through you again so you slump your shoulders and just nod quietly. “Yeah, it’s really tight. It’s always like this and i dont know how to make it stop.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently rubbing at your chest thus making you sink a little back into the pillows. Before he can respond, you speak up with a quiet confession. “That day, when you came ‘round, I was upset. You said you wanted to watch the series with me and I felt so bad. I didn't want to give up my only chance of spending time with you, but I knew my head couldn't take it.”

He nods along quietly, letting you reveal it all to him. “T-then you figured me all out and i got scared— i didnt want someone to know everything about me because i didnt want to be a problem. I want someone to listen but i dont want to be seen as something different. I just.. i dont know how to handle all of this. I dont feel like the person i am when i look in the mirror.”

The strangest thing of all is that it didnt actually take you long to figure it out. You knew all along, of course, but when you’re fighting against yourself, you’re supporting both sides and so a part of you decided not to dwell on a certain bit of information too much. The reason for that to be pushed aside is no part of you wanted to face it.

Your heart always secretly wished someone would find out— that someone would push past the walls you’ve banged so hard against even if they were crafted by the webs of your brain. You prayed and prayed that they’d read through it all, express their concern and one day, one day you’d be saved from this hellish feeling. It was a common daydream for you and yet you were terrified of it. If someone knew, there was no guarantee they’d follow the fantasy. They could ridicule you, or they couldnt be able to comfort you at all, maybe they’d try and it wouldnt even do anything or maybe, just maybe— they wouldnt give a damn about it. What happened then? If that daydream was real, and that was the final outcome, there was no turning back in time. It seemed like only one person would ever figure you out, after all, no one had up until this point.

But then Simon became aware, and you got terrified. You hid away because you were too scared to know his reaction to your problems, even more so his reaction to you. You wanted someone to help, you really did, and yet your brain feared to know the uncertain future of it.

His ungloved hands card through your hair, the callouses gentle against your scalp as he slowly scratches at it. “You need to speak with us, and the others. Your feelings are real— hell, we all have our doubts. I used to feel it before every mission. Soap began to tell me his, then Gaz joined too. Price always looks for a way to solve it, and i give my two pence when i feel i want to. Just cause you feel different, doesnt mean you are. Plenty o’ people felt the same way you did before.”

“Really..? I’m not like.. crazy?”

“No, never. Even if you do some stupid shit sometimes.”

That makes you finally crack a real smile, even if its small and you’re unable to stifle the small chuckle that bubbles in your throat and although he’s the epitome of stoicism, he smiles beneath the mask. “Everyone’s out on a mission, ya can't leave me alone tonight. C’mere.”

You settle yourself in the crook of arm as he lays back against the bed with you, propping up his laptop on his lap as he searches for a good movie.

“You better report back to me everyday this week, alright? I want you here at nine pm sharp, dressed in your pajamas. That’s an order.”

Thinking over all your previous daydreams of how this would eventually go, this was far from how you expected it to be. Firstly, you never expected Ghost, nor it to happen in the military at all. Perhaps you thought maybe later in life it’d occur or maybe Soap or Price would figure it out. Either way, you arent actually upset over it. No one would be your fairy tale saviour in life, coming forward to fight the demons that plagued your head all the time. Even so, the way Ghost had shut you up and calmed you down makes you think he’s pretty damn close to being one, even if knights usually dont scoff at their princess.

He doesnt even look like he’d be willing to give a little kid a hug, but still, you couldnt be happier with how this turned out in the end. Compared to fairytale princes and men in the movies, you knew Ghost and you knew he was serious— so if he wanted to help you, he would. And no, he wouldnt ridicule you throughout the process, nor ever feel like you’ve been misheard. You know that if you spoke to Ghost, he’d listen earnesty and never forget, carrying that around with him even if those anxieties eventually died out.

You knew he’d always linger around, never forgetting you or leaving you behind. Just like a Ghost.

“Okay, i promise i will.”

You say softly, pressing your cheek against the curve of his chest, the faint thump of his heartbeat drowning out any lost thoughts. He was your support, and no matter how bad it got for you, no matter how many times you get overwhelmed and lash out, not even when you avoid everyone— he’d never break away. No, he would always be beside you.

[pandapetals]

Ruined Surprise & Birthday Trip

Logan tries to buy a gift for your birthday only to have it ruined.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

It was rare for Logan to suggest going into town—usually, he grumbled about crowds and small talk, preferring the solitude of the mansion. So when he’d casually suggested a trip downtown, you’d blinked in surprise, half wondering if you’d misheard him.

“You… want to willingly go into town?” you asked, brows raised.

Logan scowled, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sweetheart. Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You’d agreed, thrilled at the prospect of visiting the bookstore to check out the new bestsellers. Little did you know, Logan had an ulterior motive. Your birthday was coming up, and Ororo had mentioned a shop downtown that sold dresses. She’d let it slip that the last time you and she had gone shopping, you’d fallen in love with a particular dress—a flowy, deep blue number that you’d admired for a solid ten minutes before putting it back, insisting you didn’t need it since you rarely had a reason to dress up.

Logan remembered the way you’d lit up talking about that dress to Ororo over dinner, and the idea of surprising you with something you truly wanted, well… it stuck with him. 

He could already picture your face when you opened the box, how your eyes would go wide and that soft smile he loved so much would spread across your lips. And then, just when you thought the surprise was over, he’d tell you he’d planned a weeklong getaway for the two of you—someplace where you could wear that dress as often as you wanted.

Now, he was standing outside the boutique, hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling more out of place than ever. The storefront was bright and airy, with mannequins dressed in floral prints and pastel colors—decidedly not his territory. 

He sucked in a breath and stepped inside, ignoring the immediate urge to turn around and bolt.

The shop was even worse on the inside. Every surface seemed to glitter or shine, racks full of delicate, flowy fabrics that looked like they’d tear just from a hard stare. The walls were painted a cheery pastel pink, and some floral fragrance in the air made him want to sneeze. Logan shifted uncomfortably, glancing around like he was preparing for a sneak attack.

He tried to look casual as he scanned the racks, hunting for the blue dress Ororo had described, but his every move seemed to attract attention. A young, fashionably dressed employee sidled up to him, her expression a mixture of amusement and… something else he didn’t quite like.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked, her voice lilting with polite curiosity but her eyes betraying a hint of judgment as she took in his rugged clothes, the faded jacket, and usual scowl.

Logan grunted, trying to sound polite, though it didn’t come out quite right. “Just lookin’,” he muttered, shifting his weight and wishing the place had darker lighting or a less floral smell.

The employee’s smile turned tight, and her gaze lingered a bit too long on his worn leather jacket and calloused hands. “Well,” she said, her tone verging on condescending, “we have a few… men’s items by the front if you’re interested. Cologne, wallets, that sort of thing.”

Logan clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. “Not lookin’ for a wallet,” he replied tersely, eyes narrowing as he scanned the racks once more. “Lookin’ for a dress.”

The employee’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her smile became a little forced. “Oh… a dress? For, um… someone special?”

“Yeah,” Logan answered, his tone clipped. He spotted a flash of blue fabric on a nearby rack and immediately headed toward it, leaving the employee standing there, blinking after him.

After a bit of searching, he found it—the dress Ororo had mentioned. Soft, elegant, and exactly the shade that would make your eyes stand out. He could practically see you in it, twirling around with that shy smile, maybe laughing at the idea of him picking it out.

He made his way to the register, the dress draped carefully over his arm, ignoring the way the employee’s gaze followed him with barely hidden skepticism. As he reached the counter, he noticed her pulling out a fancy tissue-paper-lined bag, the kind that screamed, look at this overpriced gift.

Logan cleared his throat. “Don’t bother with the bag,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could manage. “I’ll just… uh, I’ll carry it out.”

The employee raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he was the strangest man alive. “You don’t want it wrapped?” she asked, incredulous. “We offer free gift wrapping, and it would probably… well, keep the dress safe.”

Logan shifted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Nah. Just hand it over,” he insisted, pulling his jacket open slightly. “I’ll, uh, just tuck it in here.” He gestured at the inside of his coat, planning to hide it under the leather so you wouldn’t see it if you wandered out of the bookstore early.

The employee’s look of disbelief turned to outright condescension. “Sir, this is a dress. You… don’t just stuff it in a jacket,” she said, her tone making it clear she thought he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Logan’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Look, just hand it over,” he said, trying not to snap. “I don’t need a bag. I don’t need tissue paper. Just the damn dress.”

She pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed, but after a moment, she complied, handing it over with a sigh as if she couldn’t believe she was letting him walk out of the store like that. Logan stuffed the dress carefully inside his jacket, folding it as neatly as he could without creasing it too much, and then turned to leave, the employee’s skeptical gaze boring into his back.

As he stepped out onto the street, he exhaled a long breath, relieved to be away from the pastel walls and judgmental stares. He glanced down, making sure the dress was safely tucked away, hidden from view.

Moments later, Logan spotted you coming out of the bookstore, a stack of books piled up in your arms and a contented smile lighting up your face. He felt a little flutter of nerves—something he wasn’t used to—and forced himself to keep a straight face. When you caught sight of him, you grinned, hurrying over.

"Find anything interesting?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you noticed the odd bulge under his jacket.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nah," he said, his tone as casual as he could muster, though he couldn’t quite keep a small, secretive smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just… picked up a little something. Nothin' important."

Your eyes narrowed playfully. "Is that so?" you replied, clearly suspicious.

Before you could probe further, Logan threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you down the street in the opposite direction. You walked in comfortable silence until you spotted a familiar storefront and came to a sudden halt, eyes lighting up.

"Oh! That boutique!" you exclaimed, pointing to the shop with a glint in your eye. "They had the most amazing dress last time I was here. Let’s go inside—"

"Uh, no!" Logan said quickly, cutting you off with a little too much force, causing you to raise your brows.

"Why not?" you asked, half amused, half curious.

He cleared his throat, searching for an excuse. "I just… it’s not my kinda place, alright? You go on ahead," he added with a smirk, trying to play off his awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, giving him a skeptical look as you handed over the books. "But you’re holding my books, tough guy. Don’t drop them," you teased, shoving the books into his hands. He let out a reluctant chuckle as he took them, watching you head toward the shop.

As Logan made his way back to his truck to stash the books, you slipped into the boutique, already scanning the racks for the dress you’d admired with Ororo. The shop was just as charming as you remembered, with racks of delicate fabrics and an air of quiet elegance. 

You made a beeline for the rack where you’d last seen the dress, quickly scanning for any sign of it before a frown formed on your face. The dress was nowhere to be found.

Puzzled, you approached the counter, where a young employee was restocking a display of scarves. "Excuse me," you began politely, "I was wondering if you still had this blue dress? It was on display a few weeks ago—soft fabric, kind of a deep sapphire color?"

The employee looked up, her expression shifting to one of mild irritation as she sized you up. "Oh, that dress?" she replied, a hint of condescension creeping into her tone. "I’m afraid it’s gone."

You blinked, surprised. "Gone? Already? It’s been here for weeks!"

She gave a dismissive shrug, her lips curling into a slight smirk. "Yeah, some… rugged, gruff guy came in and bought it earlier," she said, her tone implying she found the whole thing bizarre. "Didn’t exactly seem like the type to shop here. Honestly, it was a little strange."

You felt your heart skip a beat, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as realization dawned on you. Logan had bought it. You should have known—his awkward insistence on carrying your books, his weird reluctance to enter the shop… it all made sense now. A warmth spread through your chest, but you tried to keep a straight face.

"Well," you said, your voice tinged with humor as you looked back at the employee, "if you thought he was out of place, you should meet my husband."

Before she could respond, the door chimed, and in strolled Logan, glancing around with a slightly bored expression—until his eyes landed on you. He froze, catching the look on your face, and immediately knew you’d figured it out.

The employee’s face went pale as she connected the dots, watching Logan walk over with a wary expression. "Oh… he’s your… husband?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the employee, then back to you, his face breaking into a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Everythin’ alright, darlin’?" he asked, his voice rough but warm, laced with a protective edge.

The employee swallowed, clearly flustered now. "I, uh, was just… explaining that the dress… it’s been… sold," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between you and Logan.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah? I know. Picked it up earlier," he said, glancing at you with a hint of a grin. "Thought it’d make a good birthday present for my wife here."

You felt a surge of affection as he spoke, and you shot the employee a polite but pointed smile. "See? Guess that gruff, rugged guy had pretty good taste after all," you said lightly, squeezing Logan’s arm.

The employee managed a tight smile, clearly embarrassed. "Well… uh, good choice," she mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

Logan gave a small nod, his smirk widening as he looked down at you. "Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice softening just enough for you to catch the warmth behind his usual gruffness.

You nodded, barely able to contain your smile as you leaned into him. "More than ready."

As the two of you left the shop, you glanced up at Logan, feeling a rush of warmth. "So," you murmured, once you were a safe distance away, "this was why you wanted to come into town so suddenly?"

Logan shrugged, looking a little sheepish but trying to play it cool. "Might’ve been," he muttered, glancing away. "Figured you deserved somethin’ nice."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, slipping your arm around his waist as the two of you strolled down the street together. "You know," you teased, giving him a sidelong glance, "for a 'gruff, rugged guy,' you’re pretty damn thoughtful."

Logan huffed, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he pulled you closer, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your temple. "Yeah, well," he murmured, his voice gruff but soft, "I guess since the surprise is ruined—"

"Nope! Not ruined," you cut him off, shaking your head with a mischievous grin. "In fact, I’m gonna totally forget that you bought me the dress. I’ll just act completely surprised on my birthday." You paused, looking up at him with an exaggerated, innocent expression. "See? What dress? I don’t remember a dress. Are we talking about a dress?"

Logan chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You’re ridiculous," he muttered, but his arm tightened around your shoulders, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe," you replied, grinning up at him. "But you love it."

He let out a soft sigh, as though he was trying to sound exasperated, but his gaze was soft as he looked down at you. "Guess I do," he admitted, brushing a thumb along your jaw before leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

When he pulled back, his expression turned mock-serious, though his eyes were still twinkling. "Just remember," he said, tapping your nose gently, "when you open that dress, I expect full-on shock, maybe even a tear or two."

You laughed, nodding solemnly. "Oh, I’ll deliver. You’ll be convinced I had no idea. I’ll even throw in a dramatic gasp for extra points."

Logan smirked, shaking his head. "I don’t know what I got myself into with you," he murmured, but there was nothing but love in his eyes as he said it.

────୨ৎ────

Logan had to give you credit—you’d really leaned into the performance when you opened his gift, letting out a dramatic gasp and grinning as you picked up the dress you’d already knew he’d bought. Your fingers traced over the soft fabric, your face lighting up as if it were the first time you’d seen it.

"Oh my God, Logan!" you exclaimed, holding it up and admiring it. "It’s perfect. Thank you."

He chuckled, clearly amused by your theatrics, but there was warmth in his gaze. "Of course, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling you into his arms. "I’d say it was worth dealin’ with that boutique just to see that smile."

You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling into his chest. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, though you could hear the affection behind his gruff tone. He pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, how about you try it on for me?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you swatted his chest. "Later, tough guy. I still have some dignity."

"Do you now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. Before you could reply, he tilted his head and gave you a look. "Didn’t notice the card, did ya?"

You looked up at him, puzzled. "A card?"

"Check the box," he said, crossing his arms with that knowing grin of his.

Curious, you reached back into the gift box, your fingers brushing over the tissue paper until you felt a small envelope tucked beneath the layers. You pulled it out, glancing up at him with a questioning look as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note:

"Pack your bags, sweetheart. We’re headin’ out for a week. Just you, me, and a place that I think you’ll love."

You blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Wait… a week? You’re taking me somewhere? Where are we going?"

Logan’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. "It’s a surprise," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "But let’s just say… it’s a place for bookworms. Figured you’d appreciate it."

The next morning, Logan packed up the truck and you hit the road, driving for hours until you arrived at a quiet, picturesque town nestled by a shimmering lake. The town was like something out of a novel���narrow, cobblestone streets lined with charming bookstores, cozy cafes, and tiny shops selling everything from handmade journals to vintage novels. You felt like you’d stepped into another world.

"Welcome to your personal literary paradise," Logan said, his voice low and warm as he helped you out of the truck.

Your eyes lit up as you took in the view. "Logan, this place is… it’s perfect."

He shrugged, though you could see the pride in his eyes. "Figured you might like it."

After settling into a quaint little inn overlooking the lake, Logan handed you a brochure he’d picked up in town. "Turns out they got all sorts of book-related tours here," he said, sounding only slightly amused. "One’s a walking tour of spots that supposedly inspired some big-shot authors. Figured we could do that if you’re interested."

"I love it," you said, grinning as you flipped through the brochure, the excitement bubbling up in your chest. "I can’t believe you planned all this."

He chuckled, sliding an arm around your shoulders. "Can’t have you thinkin’ I don’t listen when you go on about books, sweetheart."

The next few days were a dream. You spent hours wandering through rows of rare books, getting lost in cozy bookstores, and sipping coffee in quaint little cafes while Logan watched you with that soft, steady gaze of his. In the evenings, you’d return to the inn, where he’d build a fire and sit with you on the balcony, the lake shimmering under the moonlight.

On your last night, Logan took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The stars were out in full force, reflecting off the water, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you looked up at the sky. "This feels like something out of a novel," you murmured, leaning into his side.

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer. "Yeah, well, you’re the one who keeps sayin’ life’s better with a little drama and romance," he teased. "Figured I’d give you the full experience."

You looked up at him with a grin. "If we’re talking romance novels, then you’re definitely the brooding, mysterious hero. The one with the tragic past and the soft heart under all the gruffness."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, is that so?"

"Absolutely." You nodded, feigning a serious expression. "You know, when I first met you I thought, Yep, that’s the hero from Chapter One. Rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold."

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You thought that, huh?"

"Yep," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Over time, you proved it to me even though it took some time for you to warm up to me.”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was a tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “Good thing I did,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your cheek. "Or I’d missed out on the best thing ever happening to me.”

Your smile softened, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss under the starlit sky. "Thank you, Logan," you whispered against his lips. "For everything."

"Anything for you, darlin’," he replied, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Happy birthday."

[creatingblackcharacters]

Follow Up to the Follow Ups

Some feedback to the responses I received:

1) A lot of people said that fear and discomfort is what makes antiracism not worth standing alone for. Okay, so then I want you to say this phrase to yourself when it comes to that moment:

"I would rather be antiblack than be afraid in this situation"

Does it make you uncomfortable? More uncomfortable than speaking up? I want you to dwell on that! And no, I'm not saying this to hurt you; sometimes it is the better option to stay quiet. I recognize that you have to recognize your own weight class. (Not so much on Tumblr as it is in real life, granted 🙄) But this is often the outcome when we choose not to act. We just don't admit that to ourselves so directly.

Try to notice how often you make that choice, how often you even have to make it. If you find yourself saying this more often than not, do you still feel you identify as an ally when it comes to speaking up about antiblackness? I'm not saying you have to fight every single battle. I'm just asking you to take the time to notice how often you find yourself tolerating more than you don't. And if that's something that you genuinely feel isn't right, or that you want to change, do so! You have the option to strengthen your allyship!

2) I feel like my question about Black fans got walked around a bit. Tbh, that is already the reality Black people live in. The way you aren't comfortable speaking up, I don't feel safe assuming you're safe to be around. It's a far more perilous outcome for me, putting faith in the anti-racism of a person that I don't witness them express.

3) Fear, itself

How do you think I feel? 🤣 You're afraid to speak out on antiblackness because you're worried about the anger of, or- if we're being honest- the social consequences of speaking out? I have an entire page dedicated to addressing antiblackness in media while Black!

At any point, not for my own betterment but the potential- not even a guarantee, just the potential- of yours, I openly put myself at risk of racist ire to try make the space around me better. I've been called plenty of slurs and insults on my main discussing these things. It's not an easy choice to risk that vulnerability. Trust, I understand that!

It's honestly gone far better than expected, though part of that is because I have to police my own tone. I don't expect other Black people to do so, or to have to do so. I can only imagine an environment where people felt less inclined to treat me and my peers that way, that they felt the fear of social repercussions for their racism when they spoke instead of me.

My point here is, I'm not naturally built to be stronger than you when it comes to dealing with racism. The way you are afraid of your peers treating you, is the way they already treat me and my peers. I'm forced into resilience, I've spent a long time learning how to deal with this. If I can stomach living with this, you can occasionally take the risk and speak up. Again, I'm not asking you to fight every battle. But you're capable of more battles than you think.

That's it! That's the end of the introspection practice this week. Thank y'all for participating; I hope that you got some perspectives to take on with you.

[uhbambii]

An Evening at the Dellamorte Villa

The Dellamorte villa was beautiful, its elegance polished but understated, much like its owner. The warm glow of the fire danced across the room, the shadows playing along the stone walls and plush furniture. Lucanis Dellamorte sat on the edge of the couch, his posture straight, his dark, piercing eyes fixed on the woman beside him. His dark hair, slightly tousled, gave him an effortlessly refined appearance, as though he hadn’t given it a thought. His presence, as always, felt unshakable—calm, controlled, and ever so slightly intimidating.

Rook sat curled up at the other end of the couch, balancing a cup of coffee in her hands. A generous dollop of whipped cream topped the drink, and she took a slow sip, savoring the sweetness. It was a stark contrast to the man beside her, who held his plain, black coffee like it was just another tool to keep himself sharp.

“You drink it like a child,” Lucanis said, his voice low and edged with dry humor.

Rook looked up, blinking at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Excuse me?”

He gestured vaguely toward her cup. “The whipped cream. It’s excessive.”

She smirked at him, unbothered by his tone. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s indulgent.”

“That’s the point,” she replied, taking another long sip, the cream smudging her upper lip. She smiled at him over the rim of the mug, her sweetness contrasting with his ever-serious demeanor.

Lucanis tilted his head, his sharp gaze unwavering. “You’re impossible to argue with,” he muttered, though there was a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes.

She giggled, the sound soft and light. “I take that as a compliment.”

“Of course you do,” he said dryly, though he allowed the faintest curve of a smile to tug at his lips.

Despite his usual reserve, there was something about Rook that disarmed him, though he would never admit it aloud. Her presence was calming, warm, a welcome change from the constant weight of duty and responsibility that defined his life. She made the sharp edges of his world feel softer somehow.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, Rook leaned back into the couch, her gaze drifting to him. “You should relax more often, you know,” she said softly, her tone as warm as the glow of the room.

Lucanis raised an eyebrow. “This is me relaxing.”

She laughed again, and he couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled when she did. “I think you can do better than that.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” he replied, deadpan, though there was a teasing undertone to his words.

“You just need more practice,” she said, her voice gentle but playful.

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his piercing gaze softening slightly. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the fire. She looked utterly at ease, and it struck him how much he wanted to protect moments like this—her laughter, her light, her unwavering belief in him.

“You’ve got something,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

He gestured to her mouth. “Whipped cream. On your lip.”

“Oh,” she said, her hand moving to wipe it away.

“Wait,” he said, his voice stopping her mid-motion. He set his cup down on the table and leaned forward, the intensity in his dark eyes making her breath hitch. “Let me.”

Her cheeks flushed as he closed the space between them. His movements were deliberate, his hand brushing her wrist as he gently lowered it. There was a moment of stillness, his gaze locked on hers, and then his lips met hers in a kiss so soft and certain that it stole the air from her lungs.

The sweetness of the whipped cream melted away as he lingered, his kiss deepening ever so slightly before he finally pulled back. He stayed close, his face mere inches from hers, his sharp features softened by an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Better,” he said, his voice low and filled with quiet satisfaction.

Rook’s cheeks were blazing, and she stared at him, her wide eyes making her look both stunned and endearing. “Lucanis,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes?” he asked, his smirk returning, though this time it was softer, almost tender.

“That was…” She struggled for words, her heart still racing.

“A necessary correction,” he said, though the playful edge in his tone betrayed him.

She let out a breathless laugh, her embarrassment giving way to warmth. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, his arm moving to rest along the back of the couch, his fingers lightly brushing her shoulder, “you’re still here.”

She sighed, leaning into his touch. “I am,” she admitted, her voice soft.

He pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her with a protectiveness that felt as natural as it was rare. For a man who was so often stoic and distant, this moment of closeness was a revelation.

“You shouldn’t make a habit of this,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “I’m not known for being good company.”

“I think you’re better company than you think,” she replied, her tone light but sincere.

His fingers brushed her hair, the touch slow and deliberate. “Ah, sei una testarda, you know that?”

She smiled up at him, her eyes soft. “And you like that about me.”

His lips twitched into a small, rare smile. “I’ll admit… it has its appeal.”

“You know,” she murmured, her voice sleepy but filled with affection, “you’re a lot softer than you pretend to be.”

Lucanis raised an eyebrow, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Soft? Cara mia, that is not a word anyone has ever used to describe me.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance. “Well, maybe they just don’t know you like I do.”

Her words caught him off guard, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. There was a quiet sincerity in her expression that made something in his chest tighten.

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he admitted softly, his voice quieter than usual, almost vulnerable.

Rook smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of his dark hair from his face. “Then I guess I’m lucky.”

Lucanis exhaled a quiet laugh, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. “You have a way of making me believe that, even if it’s entirely unearned.”

“Who says it’s unearned?” she countered, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re more than just what you let people see, Lucanis. I wish you could see it too.”

For a long moment, he was silent, his dark eyes searching hers as though trying to find the words he wanted to say. Finally, he cupped her face in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, though his tone was filled with warmth.

She laughed softly, her smile lighting up the room. “And you’re just realizing that now?”

“No,” he admitted, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “But I think I’m finally starting to understand how much I don’t mind.”

Rook’s heart swelled, and she melted into his kiss, her hands curling gently into the fabric of his shirt. When they finally broke apart, she rested her head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re stuck with me now,” she teased lightly, her voice muffled against him.

“Stuck,” he repeated, his voice full of quiet amusement. “If this is being stuck, cara mia, I’m not sure I ever want to be free.”

Her smile widened, and she tightened her arms around him as a content sigh escaped her. The fire crackled softly in the background, and Lucanis pressed another kiss to her hair, holding her as though the world outside no longer mattered.

And as the night stretched on, the silence between them was filled with something deeper than words—an unspoken promise of a future neither of them could have imagined before finding each other.

————————————————————————

Eat up Lucanis lovers 🤍

I haven’t romanced him yet! Just Taash and Davrin!

[waiting-for-motivation]

dark red

summary: No matter what, Max loves and supports his girlfriend like a golden retriever would love a black cat.

pairing: Max Verstappen x Goth!Reader

warnings: the sweetest and purest fluff

words: 1022

a/n: daniel will always be part of my formula one fics :) also big thank you to my lovely muse @graveyardcannibal <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The thing Max enjoys the most is staring at his beautiful girlfriend. No matter the time of the day, the light always seems to hit her at just the right angle. She could wear a trash bag and still look gorgeous in his eyes. Max really fell head over heels for her.

So it does not surprise (Y/n) at all to see his reflection in the mirror in front of her. He watches her precisely draw her eyeliner. Concentrating on the black lines is hard, when his blue eyes notice even her smallest movement.

“Get a hobby, creep“, she comments with a sarcastic undertone, still looking over her shoulder with a smile on her lips. While Max is already dressed, she still has to finish her make-up and put on the outfit, her boyfriend helped her pick out. Sometimes (Y/n) feels bad for him, keeping him waiting for her, but then she remembers how much he likes to gaze at her.

Max can only laugh at her words, leaning forward to take a closer look at all the brushes, powders and pencils. Although he watches his girl use them on a regular basis he has no clue what they are specifically for. Though one he knows: her dark red lipstick, which she is reaching for right now.

“No, wait before you put that on“, Max almost screams, caught off guard by his own forwardness. With a confused expression, (Y/n) turns towards her boyfriend, the lipstick in her right hand. The moment she opens her mouth to ask what has gotten into him, Max presses his lips to hers. This is explanation enough.

“You smooth bastard!“, (Y/n) exclaims after they part, keeping the intense eye contact with Max. He shows her a cheeky smile, then nods towards the mirror, encouraging her to finish her make-up. The lipstick is the final part. Max watches in awe as (Y/n) places a napkin between her lips to matten the dark color.

Then she turns towards her outfit that lies on the neatly made bed, right next to her boyfriend. (Y/n) gets dressed, so focused she does not notice Max standing up and cleaning up her make-up tools.

“You don‘t have to do that“, she murmurs as she turns around and catches Max inspecting her brushes. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Max zips up her full cosmetic bag. He simply loves doing everything in his power for her, from smaller tasks to presenting her yet another corset.

"Need any help, schatje?", Max asks, setting the bag aside and reaching for his girl who is struggling to lace up her newest corset. With a huff, (Y/n) turns her back to him so that he can easily tighten the corset, careful not to strangulate her. After tying a bow, Max wraps his arms around his girl and starts kissing a trail from her ear to the collar of her shirt. One of her hands wanders to his fluffy golden hair.

"Don't start what you can't finish, Verstappen", (Y/n) warns her boyfriend, reminding him of today’s qualifying race and the job he has to do. At least, she will be with him on the paddock. For her, it will be the first time there, so she is rather excited and a bit anxious.

Together they leave their hotel room and drive to the racetrack. Again and again, Max throws a glance towards his girl on the passenger seat, actually so often that (Y/n) has to remind him to keep his eyes on the street. They quickly arrive and manage to get into the Red Bull garage without much attention from cameras or reporters.

"Remember you can always go into my driver room if it gets too much. I will find you as soon as possible afterward. Have some fun, schatje", Max tells (Y/n) with a concerned expression, even more nervous about her first day on the paddock than her. Her smile comfort his nerves, the sweet kiss following tells him she will be fine. Then he leaves to do some media stuff with his teammate.

Although the last few days, all (Y/n) could overthink about where the worst scenarios that could happen, the next few hours without Max are rather pleasant. Knowing a few of the drivers already because Max invited them to his home in Monaco, she has no problem in finding someone to talk to. Daniel is very delighted to see her, pulling her into a warm hug and forcing her to do a twirl for him, showing off her black outfit. She even meets some other girlfriends, which mostly compliment her on her make-up.

Before the qualifying race starts, someone from Red Bull escorts her back to the garage, claiming Max wants to see her before the start. There is a whole crowd of mechanics and strategists around him, so (Y/n) waits till he notices her, meanwhile touching up her lipstick.

Max is already sitting in his car, when he waves (Y/n) over with a bright smile. Someone presses his helmet into her hands which she gives to her boyfriend the moment she arrives at his car. He keeps it in his laps, gazing at the gorgeous girl above him. (Y/n) leans onto the car carefully, not wanting to cause a scratch or worse.

“There you are, schatje, wish me luck“, Max murmurs. His blue eyes glisten from not daring to blink. The giggle coming from (Y/n) causes his heart to flutter like a million butterflies. He smiles dreamily.

“Good luck, Maxie“, (Y/n) whispers as she presses a kiss to his cheek, aware of the cameras on them. Taking a step back and watching her boyfriend hide his handsome face under a balaclava and finally his helmet, she catches a glimpse of a red lipstick mark on his skin. She can only smile at this little incident.

Of course, the next day there are a lot of pictures circulating on the internet. Everyone can see the admiration in Max Verstappen‘s eyes as well as the red mark on his cheek, he wears like a medal of honor. He simply loves his girl with every fiber of his being.

[turretistrying]

I watched a playthrough of mouthwashing and wanted to write something, sorry if it's trash

warnings; Mentions of blood, death, etc. Canon events through the lens of the reader. jimmy. Mentions of Anya's situation, Unwanted touching

Summary; You are the effectively the homebrewed therapist of the Tulpar, you are the safe space of the ship. You experience the events of the game

On the Tulpar crew, you were considered a jack-of-all trades. You helped in any area the ship needed help in, but if your being totally honest thats not what your job entails to you.

Your job is being a safe space. Almost everyone on the ship has some type of issues during the night or problems they can only ruminate on when everyone else is asleep, and so you have decide to help on that front. Your room is the best on the ship, while it's walls and floors are the same as everyone elses room, your bed in the real star of the show. You've long since replaced the standard-issued Pony Express mattress with something softer from Earth, while some of the inspectors of the ship tried to make a stink about it you generally ignored them about it. Anothing thing about your bed is the blankets and pillows, so many of them on one twin sized bed. Originally you only had 3 blankets and 2 pillows when you started to make the bed more comfortable, but as some of the crew came in to sleep you started bringing more each time. Same thing with the pillows.

A year or two ago you started to comfort and therapize members of the crew the best you could but eventually that turned into them coming to your bed. Nothing ever happened mind you, just lying on the same bed, sometimes cuddling if the mental situation is bad enough. Anya, Daisuke, and Curly were the main crew members you helped, Swansea didn't feel comfortable being in your room so you mainly talked to him at 'night'.

The only person you were wary about was Jimmy.

Ever since you met him, he's become increasing strange to you. Something has felt off. But.. because you pride yourself on not judging anyone on the ship, you allowed him in your room for comfort. Even though it made you feel like your skin was going to be peeled off, like static was injected into your veins. It made your comforting and safe space feel decidedly not safe anymore for you. Any time he spent time within your room it made every single alarm in your head go off, making you wish you could lock the door only to keep HIM out. Especially when he decides he 'needs' cuddles, him touching you and nuzzling into your body makes you sick, it makes you feel like he's violating you. Sometimes he tries to get in when you're already helping someone else out and you revel in the fact you're able to reject him and KEEP HIM OUT. On the times he tries to get in and you're with Anya, you notice how she tenses up at his voice. She almost starts shivering (from fear? from terror? what did he do to her?) no matter how many blankets are piled onto her pale body.

She's the person who comes to you the most often and you have a feeling you know why. Even though she doesn't say anything, you're fairly sure Jimmy has hurt her in some fashiom, just from how her demeanor changes as soon as he enters a room and talks to her. She shrinks in on herself. (what did he dO TO HER?!)

Curly is almost as frequent as Anya but you can tell he probably shouldn't visit you. He's The Captain after all, he shouldn't need help and should feel the way he does. You feel bad for him most times, and while he may be friends with the monsterJimmy, him being in your room doesn't make you uncomfortable. He confides in you about his troubles and how he doesn't know what to do next, he doesn't want to be what he is forever. You understand him, maybe not at the level he feels it but you get it. You don't want to be stuck as a space therapist the rest of your life, you want to be a notable creative, or something. You're still working that dream out.

~~

It's a few months into the shipment, and Curly just dropped the news that Pony Express was going under and while all 5 of your were going to be let go from the company with no additional help, Curly would be able to get opportunities. You don't resent him honestly, knowing what he's thinking about after most days, you're just. contemplative. While yes job hunting is going to be a bit of bitch, you have savings and a good fall back if all else fails. You also understand the feelings of everyone else, their sadness, anger, confusion.

While you're cleaning a hallway waiting for someone to need you for something else you see Jimmy rush past you. He seems... startled and angry, from what you tell of a brief glance at his side profile. You shrug and go back to cleaning, you don't care about Jimmy anymore frankly. Curly comes up behind you and asks about him and you point him towards the cockpit. He leaves and you once again get back to work... Until the ship starts shaking and you hear yelling from down the hall. Before you can really process anything the whole ship jerks and you're thrown to the floor.

~~

The ship crashed. Foam covers all areas of the ship, your room was one of the lucky few that was spared from the crash. Other's weren't so lucky.

Curly is covered head to.. knee in bandages, only one eye still intact. You don't quite like going into the medical room anymore. It smells of burning and rotting flesh, mixed with the chalky smell of painkillers. But you visit at night and simply sit there with Curly, offering him a blanket. He never wants it, you assume it's because of how his 'skin' is still exposed even with the bandages and it could cause worse pain if it got stuck to it. Some nights he tries to talk, others he doesn't.

Daisuke and Anya are now the most frequent visitors of your room. They both cry, Anya more so. You don't know what to do now, you're almost.. numb to it all. Jimmy still comes by but you're grateful for Daisuke and Anya needing you, it keeps him away. But on nights no one comes by, HE does. Somehow it's gotten worse, he cuddles far too close for your liking and mumbles things into your collarbones you can't make them out but his mouth on your skin makes you want to cry. It makes everything so. much. worse.

~~

It's been months since the ship crashed and you don't leave your room anymore. You just. Can't. Everything is too much and not enough. You hope you die in your sleep.

~~

You hear commotion outside, it sounds like Daisuke and Jimmy. You slowly peel yourself off the bed, and take off the 6 blankets. Uncovered feet touch the metal flooring, you don't flinch. You stand up on shaky legs and make your way to the hallway. They're running towards Utility so you make your way over to the living room, to see whats happened since you stashed yourself away. The tv is shattered and it seems like everyone made their beds out here, mouthwash litters the floor. You turn to medical and hope to see Anya.

....

The door is locked. You give a soft knock.

"Anya..? are you-" you quickly cough, not used to talking anymore "are you okay?"

You receive silence.

"... Yeah, I'm sorry that was a stupid question. You're not okay, you haven't been for months, especially with... him here and yelling at you nearly every day." You rest your forehead on the door,

Silence.

"I'm sorry Anya."

~~

Daisuke is dead. Jimmy tried getting him into the damaged vent and it impalied the poor kid. You almost cry, you know so much about him, his hopes and dreams. But you decide to stay quiet and observe, Jimmy isn't aware you've finally left your room. Swansea looks downright murderous, after mercy killing Daisuke by cutting right into his head with the fire axe, he stares at Jimmy in a way you once wished you could. If looks could kill.

Swansea gets up and chases after him.

You hope he gets the monster.

~~

Swansea is dead too. Jimmy somehow got a gun and killed him. You watch from the shadows as he sets up the dead bodies of people you knew so, so well. A mockery of a party you were so excited for so long ago.

He brings out Curly and sets him on the table, he grabs the knife and cuts into Curly's thigh as if it's cake. You want to vomit. You want to cry. You want to do so many things but. You simple stand there.

You want to kill Jimmy. He's killed your friends, so you want to avenge them. None of them deserved this, none of them.

You go look for that axe.

~~

You found it in utility, it has weight but you can carry it well enough to take the swing at the man that's made this into hell itself. You hear footsteps coming towards the room so you make your way behind some foam. You wait.

And wait.

and wait.

You take action and run right towards Jimmy as he's about to kill himself.

He deserves pain, he doesn't deserve the easy way out.

You swing right into his arm holding the gun and it comes clean off.

Blood comes out from it in waves.

He needs to take responsibility.

You swing once more at his other arm, another clean cut.

needs to take responsibility.

Another swing.

tAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

One last swing.

RESPONSIBILITY.

he's not dead, but he looks just. like. curly.

you pick him up, his blood gushing onto you and place him in another cyropod.

he was have to face his actions, whenever that may be.

whenever someone finds him and curly.

~~

you walk to your room, one last time.

blood trailing behind you as you slowly walk.

your time is up and you'll get to end it the way you wanted to.

in bed.

you pull all your blankets onto yourself and close your eyes,

one.

last.

time.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Secure Attachment Style

Examples of Secure Principles

Be available ⚜ Don’t interfere ⚜ Act encouragingly

Communicate effectively ⚜ Don’t play games

View yourself as responsible for your partner’s well-being

Wear your heart on your sleeve—be courageous and honest in your interactions

Maintain focus on the problem at hand

Don’t make generalizations during conflict

Douse the flame before it becomes a forest fire—attend to your partner’s upsets before they escalate

How to Make Secure Principles Work

Try to keep a number of truths in mind when you are in the midst of a fight:

A single fight is not a relationship breaker

Express your fears! Don’t let them dictate your actions. If you’re afraid that s/he wants to reject you, say so.

Don’t assume you are to blame for your partner’s bad mood. It is most likely not because of you.

Trust that your partner will be caring and responsive and go ahead and express your needs.

Don’t expect your partner to know what you’re thinking. If you haven’t told him/her what’s on your mind, s/he doesn’t know!

Don’t assume that you understand what your partner means. When in doubt, ask.

A general word of advice: It’s always more effective to assume the best in conflict situations.

In fact, expecting the worst—which is typical of people with insecure attachment styles—often acts as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you assume your partner will act hurtfully or reject you, you automatically respond defensively—thus starting a vicious cycle of negativity.

Though you may have to talk yourself into believing the “positive truths” above (even if only halfheartedly at first), it is well worth the effort.

In most cases, they will steer the dialogue in the right direction.

Attachment classifications come from watching babies’ behavior.

Below is a short description of how secure attachment style is defined in children. Some of their responses can also be detected in adults who share the same attachment style.

The secure baby is visibly distressed when mommy leaves the room.

When mother returns, he is very happy and eager to greet her.

Once in the safety of her presence, he is quick to be reassured, calm down, and resume play activity.

Every person deserves to experience the benefits of a secure bond.

When our partner acts as our secure base and emotional anchor, we derive strength and encouragement to go out into the world and make the most of ourselves.

They are there to help us become the best person we can be, as we are for them.

Don’t Lose Sight of These Facts:

Your attachment needs are legitimate.

You shouldn’t feel bad for depending on the person you are closest to—it is part of your genetic makeup.

A relationship, from an attachment perspective, should make you feel more self-confident and give you peace of mind. If it doesn’t, this is a wake-up call!

And above all, remain true to your authentic self—playing games will only distance you from your ultimate goal of finding true happiness, be it with your current partner or with someone else.

Source ⚜ More: On Attachment ⚜ References ⚜ Avoidant ⚜ Anxious