#even though there’s no such thing as a perfect person

[cthulhus-curse]

Leather & Lace

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,012

Warnings: Age Difference, Breeding, Degradation, Jealousy, Mommy Kink, Nursing, Pervy!Stepmom!Wanda, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Slight fluff, Somnophilia, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After a split-second decision, Wanda finally gets what she wants from her lovely little stepdaughter.

Eyes remained emotionless as a front to the anger that lay beneath them. Watching intently, they studied the somber scene, narrowing as they watched a hand lower to a spot they had previously claimed as their own — of course not officially, but you could only dream.

You hadn’t spoken a word during the entirety of the morning. Glaring at your father was second nature at best as you hid behind the excuse of him being away for too long and never having time for you. Adulthood carried on many things, one of them being a disdain for being around him. The same couldn’t be said for your stepmother though.

Wanda laughed as the man whispered something in her ear, biting down on her bottom lip — it was a move you found to be adorable each time you feasted your eyes upon it. She was finishing off the dishes, breakfast already having been served in earlier hours. The perfect housewife was to keep you all fed, to be a submissive entity for your father to walk all over.

“We were thinking about going to the park today. Wanda wants to take the twins there,” your father piped up when turning to you. A set of twin brothers from Wanda’s previous marriage were the only ones to keep to sane as you watched the relationship between your dad and stepmom develop further for years. “Wanna come?”

“Whatever,” came your huff. The harsh gaze Wanda threw at you made you squirm, but your eyes faltered and ignored it out of fear.

“Come on, don’t be like that. We just want to have some family time-”

“Not my family,” you repeated as you had many times through the years. “I’m not a kid. I don’t need mommy,” you turned to Wanda staring daggers, “to take care of me. The only reason I haven’t moved out is because I’m waiting to finish college. Then I’m getting the fuck out of this shit town.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare talk like that,” your father warned.

“Or what? You’re not even around enough to give a shit about whether I move or not. It’s always work, work, and wo-” as you rambled on about his absence since his divorce from your mother, his phone rang. Not even a Saturday, the boys with their father for the weekend, could be spent in peace with his own family. “Speak of the devil. Are you gonna answer that?”

Without a word, your father excused himself. During the early years of having moved with him, you surely blamed him for the lack of parenting he carried out. You’d move with your mother if she wasn’t halfway across the world teaching English as a second language in various countries, living her life to the fullest as she ignored her motherly duties. All through high school you had been alone. Now in college, the one person you didn’t know you could count on was the surrogate caregiver who pranced to your side.

“Darling, that’s no way of speaking to your dad,” Wanda said in a low voice, tender as fury rose from the depths of her words. “You should apologize. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“I’m not doing jack-shit for you. You’re not my mom, you bitch.”

Surely the tone was harsher than you meant it to be, especially when the woman towered over you in the kitchen, you sitting on the stool by the island gulping down a know of fear. She tilted her head and suddenly all the years of anger, hatred, and surprising lust you felt for her vanished, let alone for the last one of course. With dark viridescent eyes dripping with need, she dropped her gaze to your lips.

Neither of you were fazed when your father ran to get an overnight bag ready. His job called for spontaneous trips across the world much like your mother, seeking out investment opportunities for this technology company, and yet most of the time you deduced he was simply using it as an excuse to fuck his secretary — same as he had done with your mother before marrying Wanda.

While he was adding the finishing touches to his bag, distracted as ever, Wanda grabbed your arm. She didn’t hesitate to use undying strength when pulling you away, the heels of her flats clicking against the hardwood floor when you made your way upstairs. Regardless of how much you attempted to twist away, she still held you in place.

“Stupid girl,” she growled. “It’s time we have a little chat about those icky moods of yours.”

You never expected to find yourself thrown over your bed, the woman locking the door as quick as she could. Many times she’d be the one to crack it open and watch as you undressed, a hand shoved between her legs as she hummed at herself. Not that you knew, but she was devoted to making you hers.

“You’ve been in a terrible mood all week, I get it, but don’t you ever dare speak to me like that,” was the first thing Wanda yelped as she towered over you, you sitting by the edge of the bed while she stood proudly. “You need to learn to behave.

“Oh shut up.”

To say her fury escalated at that would be an understatement.

“What’s gotten into you?” She frowned at you, crowing her eyes before stalking forth. As soon as Wanda tilted her head once again, a trademark move of hers, you knew you were done for. She explored your features, eventually averting her gaze down between your legs that you were rubbing against one another. “Oh I see.” A smile spread across her face as she softened up. “Does it maybe have anything to do with this?”

Eyes widened as Wanda, who was well pressed against you, heavy hot breaths falling on your face, cupped your clothed sex. She roughly pressed her fingers against you until she rubbed you, giving you pleasure even with the layers you wore. The hum she let out was all-knowing. Leave it to her to solve a mystery that to you ages to come up with an answer for.

“Wanda what are you-”

“Shhh be quiet, baby. You wouldn’t want your dad to find out, right? Don’t you want to be a good girl for mommy?” She raised her eyebrows, deep green eyes crawling into your soul and pulling out the submissiveness that lay beneath, and you couldn’t help but nod immediately. “Good. Now let me make it better. Your little pussy is all sticky and needy huh? I bet you get all hot and bothered when you see mommy. Tell me, sweetheart, have you touched yourself before? Has my pretty girl made herself cum at the thought of her mommy? I know you have, I’ve seen it. Those fingers look so cute inside your cunt.” She leaned in dangerously close. “Maybe I can show you some of the pictures I’ve taken of you like that.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted to her question, although in your hazy mind you couldn’t tell which one. Closing your eyes, you gripped the bed sheets while she rubbed your clothed cunt lazily.

“Yeah? Well, you have to remember that this is all mine. Mommy owns this pretty pussy of yours. Whenever you want to play with my property, you have to ask for permission.” Wanda sighed with relief as she allowed herself to bask in the wet noises your throbbing pussy made while she touched it. Even with your pajama pants on, she could tell you were oozing with juices. “You have no idea how long mommy’s been waiting for this. I’m glad my beautiful princess seems to like it.”

You didn’t fight back as she began tugging off your clothes until you were fully naked, her own being thrown over the floor only moments later. Being pushed back, you allowed your head to hit the mountain of pillows, the chill of the Fall coming through small gaps in your window causing you to shiver.

Seeing Wanda in her nude gloriousness made you drool. Perfection was her name. Her breasts stood perkily waiting to be played with, a toned stomach, slightly full with beautiful rolls, sitting there adorably crafted just for your enjoyment. There were stretch marks along her thighs, chest, and tummy which you urged yourself to kiss, only she hovered above you before you could so much as move.

Lips pressed against your own languidly. Numerous times you fantasized about what it would be like to kiss her, to have her naked frame brushing against your own, hard nipples on your skin, as your mouths danced to a steady rhythm.

“Touch me, please. Just fuck me or something…” you murmured as Wanda dropped a chaste kiss on your mouth. “Do it now. Fuck,” you grabbed her hand and let it fall on your pussy, humping it as you did with your pillows. “That’s good. Oh Wanda that feels so fucking amazing.”

“How pathetic,” she noted with raised eyebrows. Rather than keep touching you as you wished, Wanda slapped you harshly, brushing against your clit slightly and making you scream. “I said to stay quiet. Are you too stupid to understand? Maybe you’re just a mindless little slut for mommy. I bet there’s not a thought behind those pretty eyes of yours, huh?”

While you wished to relinquish some power, you quickly realized Wanda wouldn’t let you have any of it. After years of stressfully marrying your father, all she wished was to turn the tables, to have a submissive pet to use as a means to relieve all her stress. Watching you from afar, peeking through your door or even taking lewd pictures of you without your knowledge only enticed her madness; especially when she rummaged through your underwear drawer and stole a few pieces to wear while getting herself off at the sight of such images. Her craving for you drove her to the depths of desperation. You’d have to do as she said whether you liked it or not.

Fingers teased your entrance, a mocking laughter coming from Wanda as you squirmed beneath her. Neither of you noticed nor cared about the words of goodbye your father threw into the ghost house, the front door closing as you had a space just for yourselves. A weekend entirely devoted to her destroying you and claiming you as her own — how fun.

“I really should punish you for having such a dirty mouth. Cute princesses like you shouldn’t be saying those words, or making their mommies sad at that,” Wanda explained as she placed a kiss along your jaw, fingers making quick work to sloppily thumb at your clit. Folds were then parted, her hand coated with your slickness. When you sobbed at her words, she chuckled. “Oh but you’re just a little puppy, aren’t you? My lovebug doesn’t know any better. That’s okay. I’ll let it slide just this one time, but if you behave like a stupid whore again then I won’t hesitate to punish you.” She smacked her hand against your aching cunt. “Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, arms wrapped around her shoulders as you pulled Wanda close.

“Yes what?”

Crying, clinging to her for dear life, you gave in. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good girl.” In all the years you had known her, never did you feel so many tremors running down your body in the presence of Wanda. “Now lay back and let mommy play with you, toy. Let me see how many fingers I can fill your cute pussy with.”

Heat radiated from her body as she began easing her fingers in your tight hole. For a moment she closed her eyes and thought back to the times she had seen you in compromising positions on top of a girl she knew was a friend from college, touching herself while imagining . Kate was never liked by your stepmother, and seeing as she possessively swiftly thrust a pair of digits inside grunting ‘mine’ beneath her breath, it was clear why.

“So wet and so fucking warm for me. Oh baby you feel divine,” Wanda moaned as she pressed her thumb against your clit, the two fingers inside your sticky, aching pussy being pushed deep until her knuckles brushed upon you. “My little baby was just so fussy. Can’t think straight without mommy’s help? Now, next time your princess parts get icky like this, you tell me about it. No need to be a bad girl. Just tell mommy and she’ll make it all better.”

“Yes, mommy,” you whined. “I wanna cum.”

“Already? Oh no little one I’ve barely touched you! You can go a bit longer for mommy, right? I know you can,” she announced. The way her tits brushed with yours, nipples erect and hypnotizing enough made you want to suck harshly on them. With her newly found position as her mommy, you’d surely ask for that. “Good baby bears only cum when mama bear says so, and I know my girl is really good.”

While making out with her, Wanda nipped oh so softly on your lower lip to silently ask for permission that you gave her. Wetness coated your mouth as she swirled her tongue inside, exploring the area while devouring your own tongue, making all that was yours her own. All she desired was to own you, and without much effort she got exactly what.

“You’re such a little whore, you know that, right? I’ve seen the way you touch yourself. Do you think about me when you stretch your pussy out with two fingers, sweetheart, or is it your friend that you imagine? You don’t need her. Mommy will teach you how to be good, and I promise I will always take care of my pretty angel. I don’t think she can do that, can she?” Wanda’s jealousy was rampant, but had always remained silent and simply waited for the time to take her prey as the predator she was. “Hmm and you’re so tiny. Such a delicate doll. It’s so cute how much of you I own already.”

By no means were her movements tender. She had waited long months to have you, always coming second to the disdain you had for humanity let alone for Kate. The poor thing was nothing but a friend you had fun with at times, but Wanda wasn’t about to let you whore yourself off to someone else when she was to care for you. Daily inspections would be a must to ensure her little one was hers.

“So full,” you whispered with your heart on the line for her. All Wanda did was curl her fingers up, making you scream with her mouth hovering above your own. “I’m so full with you, mommy.”

Your velvety walls clamped down harshly against her causing Wanda to grunt. “Hmm time for my little puppy to cum. Be good and show me what I want. Show me who your rightful owner is.”

When you finally did come undone, Wanda was there kissing your pleasurable screams away, still deep in your pussy fucking your through your orgasm, not letting you catch your breath as she made you hers.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

During certain nights Wanda found her desperation growing by the second. She didn’t have trouble slipping away from her shared bed with her husband and instead waltzing into your room, a rather large toy nestled comfortably between her legs. Entering your room in the depths of darkness was nothing new, but with the hunger she felt, it would be the first time she took you without caring for what you had to say in response.

Earlier that day you had excused yourself to explore the world with friends. Weekends were the only times where you got to relax, to ignore all the workload being crammed through the week and instead find your inner peace. Since the weeks you’d been secretly seeing Wanda you’d spend extra time with her, the boys and your father away on certain occasions, so not having you around was a rather lonely task your stepmother had to get through by herself.

All Wanda had wished to do was wrap you up safely in her arms and nuzzle her face against your shoulder. After having cleaned on that day, the twins having gone away with your father on a camping trip, she entered your room. There she found a frame picture of you and her from when you finished your first year of college and were taken out to dinner as a means to celebrate. Once she undressed herself and eased down on a stuffed animal of yours, one she gave you as a birthday present the previous year, Wanda began getting herself off. Humping the plushie and teasing her clit with one hand, the other held the picture in place as she eyed your shining face, moaning your name as she came.

Now in the late hours of the night, she’d finally get her toy to play with.

When she first shifted over the bed, you slurred slightly. The last thing she’d want was to awaken you from your peaceful slumber knowing you never got enough sleep with all the stress that floated around you.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Wanda’s voice was low as she pulled at your pajama pants along with your underwear, her silk robe already pooling on the floor. “Let mommy touch you a bit. I’ve missed my little slut so much.” Laying you on your side, your cunt in full view, she ran a hand through your slick folds. “So wet already. Oh I bet you spent all day fantasizing about being fucked like the whore you are. Now be a good girl and take my cock.”

While still asleep she grabbed her strap and slid it up and down your slit, making sure to pry your legs open a bit so she could swirl it across your clit. Once fully coated with your juices, jerking herself off a bit as though it was real, Wanda began inching inside, groaning as she basked in the sloshing sounds that came as she stretched out your tight hole.

Strong hands went to grip your hips in place. Wanda pressed her faced against the back of your neck, cheeks flushed and barely visible in the dimly lit room as she fucked you nice and slow. Even in your sleep you were responsive, little noises coming from your parted lips. The deeper she moved her cock in your pussy, the more you stirred.

“Mommy?” You groggily asked, eyes fluttering open slightly. “What’s going on? I feel really weird.”

“It’s okay, princess. Mommy just missed you. Won’t you let me touch you?” Although exhausted, you nodded. “Good girl. I even brought the special toy. You can have all of mommy’s treat. Do you want it now, baby?”

Hugging you from behind, Wanda pumped her cock in and out of your puffy cunt, a hand sneaking between your legs to stimulate your clit. She had to remind you to be quiet, that only good girls would get rewards. The last thing she wished was to alert your father of the rather taboo relationship you held, especially knowing it would come to an end.

For a few moments your mommy allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of your pussy. She desperately wished to truly understand how tight you were as your walls held her faux cock, the toy sliding past your folds as you hungrily took it all. Neither of you minded the mess that formed on your sheets, Wanda being far too blissed out as she desired to take everything from you – your sanity, your freedom, and your love would be all hers.

“Whatever my baby wants she gets,” she husked out.

Wanda pulled out her cock, leaving you empty and sobbing with exhaustion. Right as she was about to squeeze her drenched length, you grabbed her wrist, turning over so you could face her. She left you with droopy eyes and drool falling down your chin.

“Mommy, inside please,” you begged. Grinding yourself down against her bulbous dildo, you threw your head back. The way in which you clung to her, hands on her shoulders with eyes drifting down to her uncovered tits made her pity for you grew. “Please, I need it.”

“Oh but honey I don’t want to get my fleshlight all dirty.” Wanda nuzzled her face against your own, her flushed cheeks brushing yours. “Maybe if you beg a little…”

“Please mommy! I promise to be such a good girl, a whore, and let you use me whenever you want to. I need you to stuff me. I can't stop thinking about you inside me filling my pussy up with your treat. You can use me even when I say I don’t want to. Please, just cum inside me. I need it so bad.”

Wanda was more than content with your response. She cupped your face with a hand, the other guiding her strap-on back inside your pussy. “Hmm such a good slut. So desperate to have her cunt pumped full with my cum. Maybe I can even give you a baby. Would you like that, sweetie? For mommy to stuff you so full that you have my pups? Oh how cute you’d look.”

The redhead didn’t waste any time squeezing her cock halfway inside you until white sticky drops began squirting in your pussy. Foreheads remained together, your lips tenderly touching down upon hers, kissing mommy innocently, as she filled you up. With cum dripping down your inner thighs, Wanda made sure to fuck all of the seed back into you.

“Mommy’s fleshlight,” Wanda breathed out as she held you in place, hips moving and turning your bodies into one. “All mine. No one can have this pussy, baby. Only I can stuff you with pretty pups. Never forget that.”

“I’m full,” you cried. Not only did you have your cunt all pumped with cum, but also Wanda’s thick cock stretching you out.

“I know baby, mommy knows.” Wanda kissed your worries away, eyelids feeling heavy as she shared her love with you. She pulled down your head so you’d press up against her chest, humming calmly. “You can use your mouth if it’ll make it better, darling. Latch on. Mama is here to help you get some more sleep, okay?”

Nodding, you did as you were told. You had yet to reach your climax, so close yet too tired to beg for more. Wrapping your lips around one of her erect nipples, you latched on quickly. Many times you spend laying on top of Wanda, your hazy mind drifting you into Sandman’s realm, as she helped you relax against her. It was one of the many ways she coaxed your stress from school away.

While you began falling asleep once again, mouth suckling on Wanda’s breast, the older woman thrust her hips. She spent the rest of the night using her fleshlight – your aching cunt – before removing the strap from her waist and riding one of your thighs. Holding you close to her chest, mouth agape over skin, Wanda moaned whenever her clit brushed against you. She was practically dripping – only a few minutes passed up until she came undone after having brought you orgasm after orgasm.

To your dismay she was gone by the time you woke up in the morning. That Sunday was spent happily dancing around each other, Wanda’s hand brushing against your ass from time to time before she pressed you against the kitchen counter from behind when no one was looking – it was the perfect opportunity to grope your tits then. Each little moment the two of you got alone, you were sure to make the most of it. And of course when you showered, your stepmother was there peeking through the curtain with a hand between your legs – at least until you invited her inside, through the week rewarding her with various texts with lewd pictures of you she’d treasure forever.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

SEMI-FINALS MATCH 2

Karlach propaganda:

“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.” 

“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”

“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”

"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"

Claude Propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

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[stxneflxwers]

I saw your post and came running 👀 I've been thinking about this since the end of December bc I really did not get into the holiday spirit until after it was over lmao BUT for any characters you want to write for: what are they like during the holidays? What traditions do they like to do? What gifts do they give you?

(Extra ideas you can take or leave if it helps your inspiration at all — How does Aventurine feel when you tell him you don't need any of those expensive gifts, just time with him? How does Sunday react when you sit him down to tell him he's stressing himself out too hard trying to find a perfect gift for you and that all you want is for him to be happy? How does Dan Heng respond when you tell him that the only gift you want for the holidays is him?)

^ I've just been rotating the hsr boys in my head all day at work lol so I have a lot of Thoughts™

gift of love.

summary. the greatest gift of all is his love.

a/n. tysm for the request!!! i decided to settle with gift-giving ideas you offered, since it sounded interesting and cute!! im just gonna stick with aven and sunday for this tho... i wanna test how sunday writes for me.

characters. aventurine. sunday.

cw. first time writing for sunday (this is more of a test with how much i enjoy writing him, sry for any OOC-ness). gift-giving. all lowercase. established relationship(s). PLS NOTE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION STILL CUZ I'M A LAZY MFER...SORRY.

aventurine.

tries to be soooo sneaky about figuring out what you like as gifts. he wants all of his gifts to be a surprise, after all! it doesn't work. you see right through his game plan. he's a smidgen disappointed (with himself), and might be a bit surprised depending on the kind of person you are.

he still ends up showering you in expensive gifts of things you enjoy. he tries to find the most expensive edition of any of those things even though he, of all people, should know that expensive ≠ well-made. you have to tell him to chill out.

he immediately believes you're angry with him (why wouldn't you be?). but you're not, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for the tiniest of moments. you sigh softly with a wary smile. you briefly give him some space before talking to him about it.

you tell him that all the most expensive gifts in the world are nothing in comparison to quality time together. you remain patient with an open-mind and a listening ear – you know he needs a wealth of both. you make sure to tell him you miss him.

his mouth hangs open in silence when you tell him that, for once he's at a loss for words. his mouth closes and he smiles. he takes you into a soft hug and whispers, "i miss you too."

he makes an evident effort to be around you more often when he does have the time. you know, instead of wasting half of it out in the casino.

and it makes all the difference.

sunday.

the most perfectionist to ever perfectionist. stop him before he literally keels over from stress.

thankfully, you notice how weary he's been. and you ask him what's wrong. because at this point – everyone knows, everyone notices how he's been stuck in his head (more than usual). he frets over little things, as usual. but now he seems almost snippy. birdie is cranky.

when he eventually gives in and confesses that he cannot find the "right" gift for you, you're smiling and shaking your head. you give him a very long moment of silence, testing him – seeing if he catches on what you'll say next.

he doesn't catch on "quick enough", much to his dismay. perhaps he hasn't adjusted to your praises and reassurances...yet.

you tell him that the greatest gift of all would be for him to be happy. to be relaxed. to be in the moment. you throw in a little whisper, "maybe by my side, too."

he's silent – his mind running amok with what to say next. he settles for an awkward yet genuinely affectionate, "thank you..."

and then he asks for your forgiveness once he collects himself. you laugh softly and forgive him, you've gotten used to him asking for your forgiveness rather often. only yours, though.

at some point, you're going to need to tell him that forgiving himself is far more important.

[jazzsonly]

౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. sam carpenter, scream.

warning(s): fem!reader, g!p!reader, cheating, smut, public sex, sex in a movie theater, licking cum (?,) handjob, p in v, no protection, size kink (if you squint really, really hard,) dirty talk (barely,) not proof read, that’s it i think (?)

summary: in which, you comfort your girlfriend’s sister a little too well.

***inspired by the gif lol

you had known the carpenter sisters your whole life. growing up in the same town, let alone living in the same neighborhood, you just kind of blended together with all the other kids that played together in your community.

you and sam were the same age, so you graduated high school together—you two always used to walk home together, you both shared a total of three classes (math, science, and gym) so, that added to the factor list of how you guys became close.

you were in college now and things just ironically fell into place as sam ended up attending the same college as you, along with tara, and their little group of friends (who you were familiar with same babysitting.)

it made you happy that after all this time, you and sam were still in contact. you admired sam, she was strong, a hard-ass, but strong. knowledgeable for sure. to you she was the perfect leader, the perfect final girl if she were a movie character.

somewhere along the line, you thought maybe you and sam would just end up together. she were sweet on you, you guys had so much in common, knowing each other for so long, and you’d just always been the person she ran to.

but that’s on what happened—that’s not how things fell into place at all, and you weren’t mad about it, neither was sam but it were just odd it didn’t work out that.

odd that instead of her, you ended up with her little sister tara.

your relationship in another thing that kind of fell into place, unironically though.

you and tara had been up late watching horror movie for horror to celebrate the beginning of october, sam were in her room working on an unfinished essay—and that’s when tara just went for it, she kissed you.

and you kissed her back.

you weren’t sure why you kissed her back but you did. and hen you did tara just confessed that she had been in love with you for as long as you’d been friends with sam—the whole sister’s hot best friend bit.

it wasn’t so strange to think, i mean—you had picked tara up from school multiple times when sam couldn’t, you guys would hang out alone while sam was at work—you’d known the girl as along and you’d known sam, and obviously the girl was no stranger to beauty, and you had as much in common as you did with sam.

you had a why not moment about tara.

a ‘why not give my best friend’s little sister a chance?’ was the start of your now seven month relationship.

and don’t get your wrong, tara was still amazing as ever, she fitted well with you—but the only thing that seemed passionate about your relationship was the sex. all tara wanted to do was go to parties and make out with you, and when we wasn’t doing that she were too busy with homework to even bat an eye with you—

she had no time to watch movies with you, to go to the cafe with you, to walk the city with you—but sam did.

you knew it were bad but somewhere in your mind you found yourself visualizing yourself with sam at times. when she would be sitting across from you cafe rambling about whatever schoolwork she had up her, you would just go into a daydream.

what if sam had kissed that night instead? what does it feel like to kiss sam? is she a good kisser? if her lips are soft, if they fit yours…

or when you were on walks, running errands in the city, you thought would it would be like to cuddle sam. how would her body fit in your arms? how her body would feel against yours? would she do that little thing that tara did when she pushes her ass against—

no. none of that.

ugh.

you shake your thoughts. you can’t be thinking about this right now. you were at the movies, dead split in the middle of the sisters.

tara on your right and sam on your left.

tara’s had was places on your biceps, her nails slightly digging in it.

it wasn’t like you could even hear the movie with sam and tara ‘silently’ arguing.

they had been arguing all the day, hell, they even argued the whole way here. something about tara’s grades and her being on academic probation.

“i don’t know if you’ve forgotten but you’re not my parent, sam! you’re my big sister and only that. you can dictate what i do.”

you bite your lips, keeping your head straight. in the corner of your eye, you could see sam’s eyebrow furrow hard.

“well somebody has to be a parent to you. it’s not like mom is doing it.”

your turn your head to your girlfriend, silently hissing at how hard her nails were now digging into your bicep.

“tar—”

the younger carpenter cuts you off, “well she was doing it before you came back and ruined everything. if you would’ve just stayed awa—”

“tara.” this time you really do interject, knowing the things sam has expressed to

you about her relationship with their mom.

“i would’ve stayed away if i’d known you’d end up just like her. a drunk with nothing going for herself.”

you whip your head to sam, pursing your lips. you weren’t sure what to say, tara was your girlfriend but sam was your best friend.

“fuck you.” tara drops your bicep, standing from the peeling leather of the theater’s chair.

“tara wait—” you stand, attempting to the following the storming girl,

“don’t follow me, y/n.” and you knew not to follow her. past arguments of her storming away being knowledge enough.

you turn back to face sam, taking note of the empty movie theater. only you two left.

sam placed her feet into her theater chair, her head turns to the side almost as if she is trying to hid the very visible fact that she were crying.

pausing, you let out a breath before taking your same seat, hesitantly you place a hand on sam’s head, stroking her hair in a comforting manner.

“she’ll come around. you know how tara can be—”

“i just don’t know what to do…i mean, if i let her out of my site she finds trouble, always, somehow. and if i keep her close i’m

being too pushy or overbearing.”

all you can do is purse your lips, your mind wandering to tara. what sam were saying was true. you understood where the older carpenter came from as you had to get tara out of some trouble a few times. you couldn’t understand your girlfriend, why she craved messy things when their were likeminded people around her.

maybe she were rebelling against her mommy issues and forging them to be about her sister issues.

you don’t know. but all you did know was that it were destroying her relationship with her big sister.

“i’m okay…you should go check on her,” you pause your hand movements as sam turns in her seat, facing you.

your eyes wander, studying her face, watching the way the tears glisten off her read cheeks in the theater’s dim light.

licking your lips, your turn away for a moment, “nah, we both know tara, and she wants to left alone.”

“you’re right. i just—i’m sorry…” the carpenter reaches up, wiping the wetness away from her face.

“don’t apologize, sam.”

she gives a weak smile, reaching over to pat your thigh, rubbing it in what was supposed to be a platonic touch. and it were a platonic touch, that linger and intensified when you made eye contact that read more than just comfort.

“sam—”

“fuck it,”

the older carpenter leans into you with haste, removing her hand from your lap and places it on your cheek, she cups it and forcefully pulls your face and body into

hers.

without doubt she kisses you.

your best friend—your girlfriend’s sister kisses you…and you kiss back. your heart pounding with fear and ecstasy, the feeling of your stomach dropping falls to your pants, creating a bulge in your deep wash denim jeans.

your mind was a whirlwind, back and forth, and back and forth between sam and tara. all you could think were what you were doing to tara, what her sister was doing to her—then again, all you could think was about sam was kissing you right now, the girl you’ve wanted since you’d met her.

her tongue going against yours, collecting each other’s spit, or the way her hands were rugging and tugging in your hair, making your groan into your kisses that mixed with her moans.

your dick pulsing in your black calvin kleins that were behind your jeans, you could feel your tip slightly rubbing against the fabric as your boner grew—it were wet, the pre-cum oozing out.

sam’s fingers grip and pull your head back, breaking the kiss.

“sam, wha—”

“shhh,” the girl leans down attaching her lips to your neck and her hands on your belt buckle.

it’s like she wordlessly knew the power she had over you, that you had almost wanted this more than her—almost as long as her.

her fingers brush against your warm abdomen as she undoes your belt, you can hear the way it jiggles as she moves it out the way and heads for the button; then down to the zipper.

“jesus…sam…” you don’t know what felt better, the sam sucked and bit your neck (definitely creating hickies,) or the way she hand were sliding against the fabric of your briefs as she palmed you.

“you feel so big, god,” she groans into her ear before softly biting it, followed by her tongue licking it.

her words became heavy, making you impulse and hot as you can barely taking waiting anymore, you grip the girl by the waist, effortlessly pulling her into your lap, her left on either side of you and center perfect on top of yours, the only barrier: your clothes.

“i love you,” she rocks back and forth, you head thrown back, eyes shut closed in pleasure as you softly whine at the friction—hands still firmly on the girls hips.

“i’ve loved you since—” the carpenter hisses at the pleasure, pausing in between her words.

“since i can remember, but, fuck—i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship,” sam leans forward in order to places small pecks on your exposed jawline.

“so, i pushed you towards tara because i knew, she, liked you too��but fuck…i can’t take it anymore.”

you groan, “i love you too sam. i want you. i need you.”

you desperately confess to the girl.

sam presses her forehead against yours, her tongue comes out to lick the corner of your mouth before motioning you into a sloppy, soft, and hurried kiss—you were so deep into it with desire you don’t realize sam’s slipped her hand into your boxers until she starts stroking you.

“don’t be a tease.”

“don’t be a baby. i’ve heard you and tara going at it…i know how long you can last, y/n.”

you wanna say something smart back but you feel a familiar pit coming to you stomach, all the pressure building from the pleasurable teasing.

“i’m going cum—fuck, sam i’m gonna—” you let out a deep moan, feeling your load shoot into your boxers, definitely coating sam’s hand in the mix—to which she pulls out, her eyes trained on yours as she licks the substance from her hand.

“you’re sick,” your grimace in awe of her actions.

“what are you doing—”

“relax, i’m taking my pants off.” sam continues climbing off your lap, you mind traveling back to the fact that you were literally in the middle of a movie theater right now. you begging to panic just a little.

“sam, what if we get caught?”

“we would’ve gotten caught the second i started touching you if that were the case,”

you scoff, wordlessly watching as the now undressed girl takes you, half hard, into her hands—holding your member straight up she climbs into your lap and aligns herself above you.

she hovers for a second, and you comment.

“no condom?”

“that requires more waiting,”

“are you sure you can take me?”

“we’ll make it fit,” sam rushes out, annoyed by your questions—she forgot how anxious you tended to get in situations.

the carpenter takes a deep breath, slowly but surely sinking down onto you.

“you can move,” she urges in a grunt, she expected you to be big but wowza.

“jesus, sam,” you wrap your arms around her waist, you head falling into her chest as you move your hips in an introducing pace.

her arms fall around you shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the slightly pain that was turning to undeniable pleasure by the second. her body was molded to yours as if you were made to fuck each other.

you wanted to feel more bad than you did—you wanted to stop and say that you were a piece of shit for cheating, let alone cheating with her own sister—cheating with someone you call your best friend. but the feelings were outweighed.

you felt electrified having sam here the way she was with you—the fact that she kissed you first, she made you cum—she’s wanted you for long, now that she finally has you she can’t even resist to lick your cum from her own hands.

your dick pulsing into her as you thrust, feeling the way she gushes around and she clutches to you with each stroke.

her nails were in your clothed back and your mouth was attached to your left nipple, licking and biting at it.

“oh my—it’s like your in my stomach,” the girl moans as you move at a faster pace.

“you’re so deep.”

you swirl your tongue, moving up her chest to her collarbone to her jaw, you kissed and sucked, leaving your own marks before finally connecting your lips again—you both moan into each’s other mouths.

you arms still tightly around the girl’s small frame, you thrusts become hurried at pace—sam throws her head back, unable to kiss you from so much pleasure, only shrieks of moans came from her mouth. you intently watched, feeling a sense of cockiness having smart mouthed ‘i don’t need anyone’ sam carpenter like this.

“fuc—now you’re gonna make me cum.”

“cum, sam. i want you to cum for me…all mines...”

sam leans forward, her body going limp on you while her leans twitch, only a silent moan is able to leave her mouth and you can feel her gushed around you.

“hang on,” you lift her up enough to pull yourself out, letting her back down you lap.

you wiggle, lifting you white shirt, just enough to reveal your stomach.

you reach, wrapping your hand around your shaft and start to stroke, using sam’s cum as lube as you attempt to finish yourself off.

“sorry…got a second load…” you utter, embarrassed—sam, however, in a daze and finding your action kind of hot.

due to you already being on the brink, you cum quick—this time the substance lands over your stomach, which you are quick to wipe with you shirt.

“sorry…”

sam leans in for a quick kiss, “don’t. it was hot.”

you shake your head, turning your attention to your phone that sat in the seat beside you—lit up with a text.

tara 💓: come pick me up. i’m at the diner across the street.

…

tara💓: make sam sit in the back 🙄

oh shit.

━━━👩🏽‍💻wrote this while i was stoned so its prob terrible uhmmm yuh 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 #shelyingtomeimlyingtoherbothaintshit

[adamsrcnan]

honestly i think it's a little redundant to write any think pieces on what jean's endgame ship will be. it's going to be jerejean whether you like it or not. that's the story nora is writing. she said it herself when she announced it. this story is a love story but it's also a story about jean and his journey to recovery (and just because jeremy is the future love interest that doesn't diminish the importance kevin has on jean's life either. jean's feelings for kevin are very much still there but so is the betrayal and hurt of him leaving him in the nest. it's a very convoluted relationship of which we still don't know much about. only what jean has told us, so far. as the man who believes his feelings have not been reciprocated to the same degree, mind you. like, we still have two more books to go, one with more scenes with kevin in them where we will learn more.).

as for jeremy...lmao. have we not been talking about how little we know of him since the book dropped? and now all of a sudden people are claiming to know everything about him and decided he's no good? based on one book? and for some reason because he isn't handling his new traumatised teammate perfectly like a professional with a psychology degree he's somehow not right for jean? since when has anyone in this universe been perfect? or dealt with trauma professionally and perfectly?

do i think it's right that jeremy crossed some boundaries to get some answers about jean's past? no. do i think it's right that he overshared jean's truths to his friends without his permission? fuck no. but we're dealing with a whole different group of people here, most of which have not been traumatised to the level the foxes had been. who are not used to dealing with people like jean. jeremy has his own issues yet to be revealed, he clearly has problems standing up to his family (as seen with his sister), though he has no issue captaining his team (as seen with lucas) and it's suspect that he also doesn't think himself to be as great of a person as everyone else does given the sad look on his face when jean tells him he could never be anyone's villain. so idk why anyone thinks they know anything about him when he's so cagey in his own pov. and nowhere in that, may i add, has he ever implied he wants to "fix" jean. he wants to help him. he wants to give him reasons to enjoy his life now that he can i.e making him take that silly ceramics class for Fun. and given jean has had his whole life centred around exy (which he doesn't even enjoy anymore) i think it's actually very smart and helpful to get him doing things that "don't matter" so that he can learn from it and learn that he can actually live outside exy. that he can make mistakes and be imperfect at something and that's Okay.

at this moment in time in canon, kevin doesn't have that kind of mindset and it's probably because he was allowed the freedom to already pursue an interest outside of exy - his love of history. like are we missing the detail that he begged tetsuji to let him take that as his major and he actually allowed it? kevin, though still has a long way to go, still has something outside of exy he can hold onto and switch off from. jean doesn't have that and jeremy just so happens to come along and give him the option and for some reason that seems to get ignored. i think it's actually one of the most important things about their relationship so far. jeremy still makes all the accommodations jean needs - setting him up with class partners, taking him for a run when he needs to get out of his head, buying a bed to sleep in the room with him. but he also pushes back and insists jean try something to break him out of his unhealthy relationship with exy.

also, hello, jean literally admits to himself it's a Lie when he tells jeremy he doesn't want him to look if it's too much for him to deal with when jean is attacked by grayson. and jeremy refuses to look away. something everyone around jean has done since he was born, probably.

"Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” “I do not want you to look.” It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it..."

jean appreciates when jeremy is so very obviously attracted to jean and openly staring, but doesn't press and removes himself from the situation if he thinks he may come on too strong.

"Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth. He needed to see the easy way Jeremy ceded Jean’s space to him. Jean couldn’t remember the last time someone allowed him any boundaries, and the feeling was as novel as it was addicting."

hello???? that is literally jean himself telling us jeremy just allowed him a boundary. how does that get looked over?

also he's content enough with jeremy in his space that he feels safe enough to almost drift off

"In the quiet he could hear Jeremy breathing, and it was almost as comforting as the heat of another body this close to his. It thawed the parts of him the sun hadn’t reached despite soaking up its glare all day. Jean closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift far away. [...] This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could."

mind you right after this jeremy presses that jean should have his own space and jean insists jeremy share with him and get his own bed. and let's not forget the obvious flirting that has jeremy immediately backtracking and telling jean to let him know if he ever makes him uncomfortable.

ALSO THIS

“Stop asking,” Jean said. “You only think you want these answers.”

jean may find it annoying and unfavourable that jeremy keeps pressing but idk i infer this to be more of jean not knowing how to handle someone actually giving a fuck about what was done to him when he was so used to everyone turning a blind eye.

finally (bc this is getting long) jeremy pushes himself into jean's space when he hugs him, and jean doesn't hug him back but he doesn't push him away either and jeremy is the one who has to wait for jean to let go of his shirt so he can move away.

"Jeremy heard the dismissal in it, but he waited for Jean to let go of his shirt before leaving the room."

i have made a post about this before but jean craves attention and affection, he wants to be loved and to be frank he fucking deserves it more than anyone else does.

i'll finish the post with one last line from jeremy's pov...

"...it wasn't his place to interfere with Jean's trauma or his healing."

jeremy isn't perfect, he's not meant to be.

[0rczy]

I really like analyzing Varigo, one thing I've noticed recently is how different their approach to romance (and human connections in general) really is, but also how they're pretty much the perfect foils in this regard.

Varian grew up sheltered away in their mansion. He didn't have much clue about socializing, so when Rapunzel came to him, he gives all of them proper respect (calling Rapunzel "Princess", Eugene "Flynn Rider", as in the full name). You could assume it's because of his dad; later when the two confronted each other, Varian called him "Sir". Probably because Quiring taught him to be respectful of others, and they both clearly take this social rule rather seriously.

So then Cassandra comes in and saves Varian, for apparently no selfish reasons. She likely just didn't want to have a child get crushed when she could've prevented it, but to Varian, this changes his view on people. Cassandra isn't just a distant figure to respect; instead, someone he could have a connection with. And this is where one of Varian's most essential traits come to light: when comfortable, he treats situations like an experiment. He immediately starts calling her by a nickname, "Cassie", to see how she would react. At the day of the expo, he keeps trying out different tactics, trying to essentially just get close to Cassandra. One could Interpret this romantically, but I personally like to think he just really wanted a friend. A lonely kid, seeing someone cool show any kind of affection for him immediately made him go "there could be something here! I need to find out!", and so he does. In his own, nerdy way.

Hugo, on the other hand. He, unlike Varian, grew up having to socialize all the time. Having to talk his way out of situations constantly, he learned to put up walls so that the most desirable results come out, benefiting him and his missions. When he weasels his way into the Team, he also calls them nicknames. In his case, it stems from a need to distance himself from people, so that he doesn't get attached. One slight exception though is Varian, as Hugo seemingly not only uses nicknames on him to keep up built-up walls, but to get a reaction out of him. This is very similar to how Varian approached Cassandra when he was younger. He's interested in Varian from early on, and he handles this in his good old Hugo fashion, because he finds Varian entertaining. Varian at first doesn't trust Hugo, but when he proves himself trustworthy, he gives in. He's willing to reach out, making Hugo more than a means to an end. Eventually, the two become friends! Then more than friends!

And then, their approaches change.

I'd like to think that it was Hugo, who fell first. Or at the very least, he's the first to realize it, and he HATES THIS. His flight or flight is activated, and he really wants to flee. He's the type to ignore his feelings, try to bury them. That's all he knows how to do, really. Especially because for what could be the first time in his life, he's actually falling for someone who is his friend. Someone who means a lot to him! He wouldn't want to ruin things, especially because he knows that betraying Variant will break the guy's heart, once he finds out. Therefore, the less pain, the better.

Varian is the exact opposite of this. It takes him a long time to figure out what he feels, and that it could be romantic (he didn't exactly have the history with romance before. The "puppy crush" on Cassandra could have easily been more of an obsession with the possibility of someone showing affection towards him). But once he realizes that there's a chance that the two could be a thing? He doesn't have to think hard about what his next step should be: he likes Hugo, and he's a scientist. Trial and error is practically in his blood at this point, so if there's even a small possibility of them getting together? That Hugo likes him back? Varian will do anything to find out how probable his theory is. And so, once again, he treats the situation like an experiment. Wasting no time, he tries to confess or bring up the idea as quickly as possible. And Hugo FREAKS OUT. He's not ready!

Varian's other big trait is his stubbornness. He's not satisfied with an uncertain answer. He wants to know Hugo's view on them, as clearly as possible. So he keeps poking around, trying to find an approach that brings out different reactions, different answers as to why Hugo would be scared of them being together. Again. Really similar to how he treated Cassandra at the expo back then. This is the only way he knows how, though. And he needs clear answers.

He gets one at the last trial. Boom. Heartbreak. This isn't about angst though, so I'll end it here.

I find them so interesting. How their upbringing influenced their view and approach to people, to friendship, to romance. To each other. They are both scientists, but one is more afraid of the results than the other.

So it all boils down to the importance of clear communication: another big theme in Vat7k, what with Ulla and Donella setting an example as what not to do.

I could ramble about these characters for ages, but yeah. This is my view on them, I loooove reading different Interpretations in fan fiction though!

[yourownutopia]

Anomaly [Jin Woo x !Shadow !Fem Reader]

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember?

Information: The prologue is written in the third person. I’m honestly unsure whether I want to keep it that way or write the following chapters from different POVs. Feel free to let me know if you’d be interested in a second-person perspective as well.

This idea has been stuck in my head ever since I saw a similar start to a roleplay on Character AI. I’ve had so many thoughts since then, and I hope I can integrate them meaningfully into the story!

I’m known for starting ideas and never finishing them, but I really hope it’ll be different with this story. At the very least, I still have plenty of fuel in the tank and a lot of motivation to write! <3

Ideas, story requests, and feedback are always welcome, so don’t hesitate to reach out 😊

Enjoy the prologue!

Note: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect words. Please feel free to send me corrections so I can continue improving my skills! 😊

[Prologue] “Arise.”

The Shadow Monarch’s voice reverberated through the room, deep and commanding, shattering the silence like fragile glass. Clear and resonant, his words echoed off the stone walls, lingering as though the air itself sought to hold onto them. The sound was low and powerful, vibrating faintly, giving the room a brief sense of life before the quiet crept back in.

A translucent window appeared in the air, the oppressive dark aura blanketing the ground retreating like mist. Once again, the extraction had failed. [Soul Extraction failed. 1/3 attempts remaining.]

Jin-Woo’s cold gaze flickered down to the lifeless figure lying on the ground. He exhaled deeply, raising his hand again.

“Is this truly where you wish to meet your end?” he asked, his eyes beginning to glow faintly. His voice was the only thing animating the desolate room. Vines crawled up the cracked stone walls, fractured beams of sunlight piercing through the shattered ceiling above. It looked like an abandoned boss chamber—ancient extinguished torches lined the walls, weapon gouges marred the hard stone—but there was no trace of life to be found. Not even the body before him radiated vitality.

So why couldn’t he extract her shadow?

Had it been too long since this monster’s death? Monsters decayed, yet her body showed no signs of rot. Only the deep lacerations across her skin, the missing heartbeat, and the faint, oppressive aura around her gave away the truth—she was dead.

“What a pitiful end,” he murmured. Jin-Woo didn’t expect a response, but something about her unnerved him enough to speak aloud, as though testing the air for answers.

“Arise,” he commanded once more, his hand tightening into a fist as though he could will her soul to obey.

The black smoke coiled around the lifeless body, intertwining with the tendrils rising from her chest. Slowly, the shadow took shape. Jin-Woo’s lips curled into a victorious smirk as the dark form solidified into the outline of a woman. Her glowing white eyes locked onto nothingness, the telltale mark of a newly risen shadow.

The system window popped up again, prompting for a name. Jin-Woo glanced at his latest recruit, who now knelt before him, one leg folded beneath her and the other bent upright. Her gaze remained forward, never meeting his.

“You belong to my Shadow Army now,” Jin-Woo declared, lowering his hand. “From this day on, you will serve me and obey my commands.”

He pondered briefly, then began typing a name into the prompt. Just as his finger hovered over the “Confirm” button, the window glitched, flickering erratically before closing. The chosen name replaced by another. [Y/N]

“No.”

The voice was so faint it barely registered. Jin-Woo paused, convinced he must have imagined it. Yet, before he could dismiss the notion, the shadows surrounding her physical body dissipated, retreating into the darkness along with the lifeless form on the ground.

“What?” His voice was sharp, his composure slipping for an instant as the word lingered in disbelief.

“No.” The second time was louder, firmer. The shadowy figure began to rise, her form shifting. The darkness coating her crumbled away, replaced by color. Her eyes, once glowing white, now gleamed a vibrant shade of [E/C], locked onto his in defiance. Her hair, [H/C], shimmered with an unnatural vitality, stark against the bleak surroundings.

Jin-Woo’s usually impassive expression flickered with subtle astonishment. A shadow capable of speech? Only Beru had ever displayed such an ability.

He cast his gaze toward the floating information above her:

Name: [Y/N] Level: ???

He couldn’t read her level. And she already had a name.

A tense silence filled the space, his dark aura intensifying until even Igris, his loyal Blood-Red Commander, shivered. Yet, [Y/N] stood unflinching, her jaw tight as she met Jin-Woo’s penetrating stare. Despite the icy dread running down her spine, an unyielding resolve kept her rooted. She refused to kneel.

“I refuse,” she ground out through clenched teeth, watching as the black-haired man’s glowing eyes narrowed into sharp slits. Her voice was thin but steady.

Before she could react, he had grabbed her chin and leaned down toward her; after all, he was a good head taller than she was. His grip was firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to convey his dominance. His hands were icy cold. Could shadows even feel such sensations? His face was mere inches from hers, and his piercing gaze sent a cold shiver crawling up her limbs.

[You are forbidden from harming your master.]

The window that briefly popped up caught her eye for a moment before her gaze returned to the Shadow Monarch’s icy stare.

“What was that?” he asked in a deep voice, as though his physical intimidation and the flicker in his glowing eyes could compel her to reconsider her defiance in light of what he was capable of.

“Say that again,” he growled, his tone icy and measured, daring her to reconsider. He was giving her one more chance to retract her initial refusal and do what—at least in his mind—was the only correct thing. [Y/N] stared at him for a moment. Her irritation over the situation gradually gave way to anger, which settled heavily in her chest. Who did he think he was? More importantly, who did he think she was? ... Who was she?

But there was no time to dwell on that thought, as the Shadow Monarch grew impatient. He made this clear with a brief but painful squeeze of his hand. But her defiance didn’t falter. “I. Refuse.” The words were deliberate, slow, and unwavering.

For the first time, Jin-Woo felt something beyond annoyance—curiosity laced with disbelief. Never had a shadow disobeyed him. His dominion was absolute. So why did she stand so boldly against him?

“You’re either very brave or very foolish,” he said, his voice low as his violet eyes flickered dangerously. “Do you even realize who I am?”

Her lips curled into a faint smirk. “When you’re dead, titles lose their meaning. Honestly, nothing really matters anymore.”

For a fraction of a second, Jin-Woo’s stoic mask slipped. Her words, blunt and logical, were disconcerting. Yet his pride demanded he reassert his authority.

“If you won’t obey me, I have no use for you,” he declared coldly. “I’ll kill you again a second time”

“Go ahead.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her expression challenging. “I have nothing to lose.” Something in her tone—half daring, half resigned—made Jin-Woo hesitate. The tension between them crackled like static, thick enough to choke. Shadows coiled at his feet, thick as ink, creeping toward her like serpents. Yet, as they reached her, they paused, lingering for a moment as though recognizing her as one of their own before retreating.

Even Jin-Woo couldn’t deny what he had just witnessed. Releasing her chin, he let out a heavy sigh, his energy dissipating as the oppressive weight in the room lifted.

This was no ordinary shadow.

The shadows retreated as quickly as they had appeared, his eyes returning to their cool gray, and the immense energy he exuded vanished entirely.

He couldn’t simply let the chance of having a powerful shadow slip away, even if her lack of respect infuriated him to no end. The fact that he couldn’t determine her rank and that she didn’t yield to his will suggested she must be strong.

[Y/N] exhaled in relief; the whole ordeal hadn’t left her unscathed, but she was incredibly fortunate that the black-haired man hadn’t killed her on the spot. Despite her earlier words, she really didn’t want to die again.

His cold expression remained unchanged, but his gaze lingered on the [H/C]-haired woman, who stared back at him blankly.

Her appearance was human—different from his other shadows. She had color, glowing eyes, and if not for the name and lack of rank floating above her head, he wouldn’t have even guessed she was part of his army.

“Let me put it another way: as the one who revived you, you don’t have a choice but to follow my commands. So stop being so stubborn and just obey,” he said, his voice slicing through the silence as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Stubborn? Me? Does he even listen to himself? [Y/N] thought.

“Clearly, we’re both stubborn,” she stated , rubbing her chin, which still bore faint pressure marks from his firm grip.

She didn’t notice the faint flicker of concern in his eyes. Did he hurt her?

“If you’d stop being stubborn and accept that you can’t just go around resurrecting people and making them your slaves,” she retorted, earning another angry glare from the black-haired man. He at least seemed to accept that physical intimidation wasn’t going to work on her.

Jin-Woo turned slightly away from her and opened the window displaying the current number of his shadows.

“I revived you for a reason. You are now part of my army and will serve me. End of discussion.”

[Y/N] laughed humorlessly—a cynical laugh. He still didn’t get it.

She rolled her eyes, though there was that peculiar feeling in her chest—a strange connection that had been there since her resurrection. It felt more like a tether pulling at her core, drawing her toward him.

But she didn’t feel compelled to obey him—so why should she?

“Nope, as long as you act like an asshole, I’m not even going to consider it.”

The Shadow Monarch froze mid-movement, shooting her a deadly side-eye.

Did she just insult him?

His frustration grew with every passing second. No one had ever defied him like this, especially not someone he had revived.

“And why should I be nice to you? You’re the one defying me here. You’re the one refusing to obey me. What have you done to deserve my kindness when all you’ve shown me is disrespect?” he said.

[Y/N] responded without thinking, “You reap what you sow.”

Yes, he was an asshole, and she couldn’t stand him, but her reaction wasn’t exactly the best icebreaker either. Besides, they were both in a pretty crappy situation, and it wouldn’t get any better if they kept clashing.

Plus—what choice did she have? She had no idea who or what she was, where she was, or where she was supposed to go.

A resigned sigh escaped her lips, and her tense posture relaxed a little.

“Maybe... just maybe, we got off on the wrong foot,” she said, her voice softening slightly, almost innocent—though theatrically so.

The Shadow Monarch was once again surprised by her words. She had personality—and plenty of it, apparently.

He could insist that she was his shadow and that he was therefore superior to her, but what would be the point in the end? Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride and admit he might have been wrong.

Maybe he had simply spent too much time alone, consumed by his role as the Shadow Monarch, losing whatever social skills he once had.

His expression remained cool for a moment longer before his features softened slightly, and he scratched the back of his head. “That’s an understatement,” he muttered, reflecting on how he was almost the cause of her second death. [Y/N]’s eyes lit up slightly. Had she just detected a hint of humor in his voice?

His tone had lost some of its anger, which gave her a bit of relief.

“Okay. What am I even supposed to do, and where the hell are we anyway?” she asked, glancing around the room and taking it in. She knew she had seen this place before—clearly, it was where she had died—but it didn’t feel familiar. Jin-Woo, still a bit taken aback by her sudden cooperation, followed her gaze.

“We’re in a dungeon,” he said matter-of-factly. He really didn’t share more than he absolutely had to, did he? As for what she was supposed to do? Well, his shadows usually fought for him, but what about her? She had no weapon and didn’t seem magically inclined—at least he couldn’t sense any significant mana coming from her.

“Follow me. That’s enough for now,” he finally said, turning on his heel. His cloak lifted slightly with the abrupt movement before settling back down.

Jin-Woo didn’t look back, his footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. The young woman hesitated for a moment, but the invisible force seemed to nudge her forward, almost pushing her to follow him. She let out another frustrated sigh. “Okay,” she said, taking a few quick steps to catch up with him, though she stayed a few meters behind. “I’ll follow you,” she said after a brief pause. “But I won’t follow your orders blindly. If a command seems pointless to me, I’ll refuse,” she added—a compromise she could live with. Jin-Woo stopped abruptly, nearly causing her to bump into him. He paused, processing her words. For a moment, he hesitated. With a sigh, his expression softened slightly. “Fine. I’ll accept your compromise,” he said, reluctantly agreeing to her terms. “But if your reason for refusing seems pointless to me, don’t expect my mercy,” he added without glancing at her and continued walking. Though he was satisfied with this for now, there were limits—even for her.

What had he gotten himself into?

[leonastarry]

{ 3 } My baby. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x fem!reader

☆ I like the way my baby hold my waist lovingly.

One thing you noticed when you started dating Jinwoo was that he seemed to really like hugging your waist. Anytime you two were near each other, he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. Or when you two were out, he would wrap one arm around your waist possessively, declaring to everyone that you were his.

It's not that you feel uncomfortable or anything, on the contrary, you feel warm because of it. It shows that he is not afraid to show his love for you in front of everyone.

☆ I like the way my baby cherish me.

You are his precious treasure, the light that shines into his life. So he always tells himself to cherish you with all his heart.

Jinwoo is willing to give you the compliments that he thinks are the most beautiful. No matter what your appearance is, you are still the most beautiful person in his eyes. He is always grateful for your presence and appreciates everything you have done for him. And at times when you feel the saddest and most disappointed, he will always be there to remind you how wonderful you are in his eyes.

After all, for him, no presence is more precious than you.

☆ I like the way my baby pamper me even though I'm still a bit arrogant.

Not gonna lie, his pampering of you is so much that sometimes you act like a child.

Whatever you like, he will buy it for you. Whatever you want to eat, he will cook it for you. Wherever you want to go, he will take you and make sure you are always happy.

Sometimes you feel like he pampers you too much, you say you will become spoiled. He just smiles and kisses the corner of your eyes.

"I only have one girlfriend, why can't I spoil her?"

☆ I love the way you hold my hand, I love the way we face each other.

During some free time, you and he will sit and talk about what happened. Or just you talk, he will listen to everything. At that time, he will hold you and intertwine your fingers, holding tightly. If you are not too busy and eager to tell him what you find interesting, you will catch his gentle eyes looking at you attentively and passionately.

☆ I love the way my baby kiss me, and let me know that I'm very special.

Jinwoo loves kissing you. He thinks that even though it can't express all his feelings, it's a great way to show you how much he loves you. It could be a kiss on the cheek, the corner of the eye, the top of the head, or the forehead… Sometimes, he holds your hand and kisses your knuckles.

After each kiss, he will whisper sweet words into your ear. He always tries to show you how special you are to him and how his world wouldn't be complete without you.

He's not the type to open up easily, so if he says he loves you, he means it for the rest of his life. You are something he can't lose, something he needs to care about.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

After all, with all that you have been through, in the midst of a life full of dangers, you both understand that it is very difficult to find each other. Therefore, you both choose to cherish your lover in the way that you think is the most perfect. And perhaps, this love will never be broken no matter how much time passes.

......

Sitting on the soft grass and looking up at the starry sky, Jinwoo pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and whispered in a loving and sincere voice.

"I love you in every universe."

English is not my first language, so the story can be not so good 😅😅

[solxamber]

Has anyone requested: Diasomnia, 3, hurt/comfort yet? If not may I request it?

Strength to Believe || Sebek Zigvolt

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'll always be here" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Sebek's sword sliced through the air with relentless precision, yet his expression remained taut with frustration. The training grounds, bathed in the golden light of dawn when he started, were now drenched in the pale glow of moonlight.

He had been practicing the same intricate moveset for hours, his determination unyielding despite the clear strain on his body.

From your spot near the sidelines, you watched him with unwavering focus. You'd been there the entire day, offering cheers, water, and snacks at intervals, though Sebek barely acknowledged your presence.

"Don’t overdo it, Sebek," you’d called earlier, only for him to reply, “I must master this, for Master Malleus deserves no less than perfection!”

As the hours stretched on and fatigue set in, his strikes grew sloppier, his movements less precise. Even so, Sebek pushed himself forward, the fire of his ambition refusing to dim.

It was nearing 3 a.m. when he finally executed the sequence flawlessly. His blade danced through the air, his footwork aligned with perfect grace. When he stopped, chest heaving, the realization that he’d done it slowly dawned on him.

“That was incredible!” you exclaimed, rushing to him with a wide grin. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him in a jubilant hug. “You did it, Sebek! I knew you could!”

Sebek stiffened in your embrace, his cheeks warming at your proximity. As he looked down at you, exhausted and flushed but beaming with pride for him, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

He replayed the day in his mind—the times he dismissed your encouragements, brushed off your care as unnecessary, simply because you were human. Yet you had stayed. You had believed in him.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” You tilted your head up at him, still smiling.

“Why have you stayed here all this time?” Sebek asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable. “I… I have not been kind to you. I’ve called you ‘just a human,’ dismissed your words, and yet… you stayed. You cheered for me. You believed in me.”

Your expression softened, and you reached up to cup his cheek. He froze, wide-eyed, as your thumb brushed against his skin.

“Because I care about you, Sebek,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know how hard you work, how much you want to prove yourself. I’ll always be here to support you. No matter what.”

Your words struck him like a blessing, one he felt deeply unworthy of. His throat tightened, and for once, he had no retort, no haughty remark about his devotion to Lord Malleus. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded, his usual bravado replaced by quiet gratitude.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. “For believing in me. For staying.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing his cheek once more before you dropped your hand. “Always,” you promised.

Sebek let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his hours of training. As he looked at you—your tired yet radiant expression, your unwavering support—he felt an unfamiliar warmth take root in his chest.

And for the first time, he wondered if his greatest strength wasn’t just his swordsmanship, but the person who stood beside him, believing in him when he struggled to believe in himself.

Masterlist

[taldigi]

how do you feel about yu’s parents?? What do you think they’re like?

I think they're really interesting to explore- believe it or not. I've seen a lot of different interpretations of his parents, ranging from straight up negligent, to being abusive-- or just simply too busy. I've even seen interpretations where they're perfectly fine parents, and that the year abroad is an unusual circumstance.

The game itself, which is what I would consider primary canon (sequels being secondary and manga and anime being tertiary) never touches on it more than it needs to to justify Yu's presence in Inaba/being new. I think Yu's mother is briefly mentioned once or twice and they are said to have called Dojima once.

I made the observation (previously when theorizing about Ren's parents) that it's completely possible that during the downtime that you don't get to see between transition stages (where, theoretically, the main protagonists would do homework or take a shower or tend to other daily needs) it's totally possible that they call or interact with their parents.

All interpretations are possible, but I know Souji Seta's (the protagonist from the Manga) parents are always moving around- and lot of folks have taken this to heart- and yeah, I can see it and I too like this idea- even though it's worth considering the fact that the manga is mostly secondary to the games (and even the anime!) and it's not definite canon.

That being said, I definitely like the idea that they are a sort of echo of the conflict between Nanako and Dojima. Both suggest career oriented people that probably shouldn't have had a kid in the first place who prioritize their work over their family.. and that, in turn, leading to neglect- with Yu and Nanako both being self sufficient. mature for their ages, and complacent.

Behaviors Yu exhibits- like his ability to cook meals beyond what is expected of a teenage boy, becoming incredibly attached to Nanako (he is one wrong dialog choice away from killing someone over her!) and Inaba, the insatiable need to people please, his initial desire to push people away or ignore others, and his otherworldly emotional control and ability to not express himself.. -is stuff like that echos of a kid who's had to grow up way too fast and not cause any trouble and keep to himself.

So personally, I subscribe to that concept: Yu's a kid who's been raised to be seen, not heard- developing complexes and anxieties over being praised for being responsible and mature even though he's only barely meeting that expectation by the skin of his teeth. Nothing less that being perfect for the Narukamis, after all- there's no time to make friends or have many interests when time is better spent on studying.

So... the Narukamis are parents who fufill those concepts. Parents who withhold attention and praise because those are things reserved for truly impressive successes.. and when exemplary is the expected baseline, such rewards are never actually acted upon.

Yu does have a taste in cooking, though- and a selection of music he likes. He doodles in his notes and reads magazines- I feel it expresses that while his parents don't police his interests, it also means that they really care much about their son's interests... as long as they don't interfere with work (and, by extension- Yu's grades or behavior, as he can be considered an asset in said jobs)

Jobs that leave them busy more often than not, leaving Yu alone.. but he's mature for his age, so it's okay. He prolly does a fried egg and toast and then goes and sits in front of the TV to do his homework. Yu seeing this in Nanako... is a lot, and makes their relationship that much more sweet and aajhksdkjasf

His parent's cruelty is best decided on a story by story basis. The level of willfulness in their work (genuinely needed often vs choosing work over family for example) or the level of regret they express upon leaving-- informing many interesting stories.

so yeah thats my thoughts on that.

side tangent, thats why souyo's so nice tbh. Yu always has to be the inconquerable senpai, the perfect big brother, noble leader, and everyone's rock- only to have Yosuke waltz up , hang off of him like a drunk girlfriend, and go "yeah he's amazing, but he's also the world's weirdest man and he's my best friend about it."

[starlost-mochi-x]

rose part 2 - lee minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

summary: you and lee minho, the smartest student on campus, get unexpectedly paired up to work on an assignment

genre: less angsty, mutual pining, college!au, happy ending hehe

a/n: yayy part 2. dividers by @kodaswrld

⛓️ prompts: 17. "Why are you looking at me like that?" / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist | part 1

The next few days are rather awkward.

You avoid Minho as much as humanly possible; more than once he tries to approach you in the corridors, though unsurely, and you find yourself ducking into the next hallway or stopping to talk to someone so that he won't.

Not that you don't want him to approach. Part of you misses talking to him, though most of what came out of his mouth was teasing remarks and judgmental comments. But he does it in a way that lets you know he doesn't mean it.

You know he doesn't mean it, but after you messed up those few days ago, you're beginning to wonder if he might in the future.

You find yourself glancing his way during lectures, subconsciously reaching for your phone to text him before you take control of yourself and tear your gaze away, shove your phone into a drawer. Keeping distance is the best thing to do right now, even if you do miss him.

But still...

Minho and his pretty necklace, his pretty lopsided smile, although it's rare. But it makes it all the more special. It makes him all the more special.

The part of you yearning to see him wonders if there's a slim chance that he reciprocates what you've begun to find yourself feeling, and it tells you to go and find Minho, talk to him, work things out. Maybe you could play it off, say you were on something, plead that you were tired or that there had just been something on his face.

Which is why you had touched it in the first place, though it was on a whim. You'd stroked those precious few strands out of his eyes, touched his pretty mouth on a whim, your fingers brushing against the perfect mask that Lee Minho never lets slip.

The professor calls your name suddenly and you shoot upright, having previously been slouching on your hand, staring down the rows of lecture seats. He shouts out a question and panic seizes your gut like a vice.

"Y/n, what's the answer to question eight?"

Your eyes flit over the screen at the front; you haven't been listening and none of it makes sense. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, and you feel the gazes of other people becoming more prominent by the minute.

Your gaze catches Minho's by chance; he's sitting at the very front of the lecture hall as per usual, all of his materials lined up meticulously neat on the desks. He mouths an answer to you, subtly holding up three fingers.

"Option three," you blurt out. It must be the right answer because the professor turns away, moving onto the next question. You sag back into your seat with relief.

Minho is still looking at you.

You steal a glance at him again, hoping that he's not looking, but he is. You make to look away in haste but not before you see him point to his notebook, gesturing to you and then back at his book.

Staring down at your own folders and papers, you take your black notebook from under the haphazard mess and flip through it. Minho turns back to the front just as a slip of paper falls from between the pages.

You unfold it. Minho's neat, looping handwriting inks the paper in blue.

Meet me at the library at five o clock.

Absolutely not, you think. You toss the paper onto your desk and lean back. There's no way you're going. You might just come up with an excuse and relay it to someone so you don't have to show up. You look back down at Minho's note. It's fallen the other way and there's writing on the other side. You peer closer.

And don't even think about disappearing or making up an excuse. Come on, Y/n. You're not that busy a person.

You roll your eyes, even though you're smiling. He knows, and the realisation doesn't hit you as hard in the gut as you thought it would have.

Five o clock it is.

☆☆☆

When you enter the library, you know exactly where to go; Minho's usual spot is always the far corner, several long tables and chairs tucked behind the shelves. As someone who spends a lot of time in the library to begin with, you've often seen Minho by himself at one of the long tables, with his knees tucked neatly over one another as he reads, or his head bent in concentration as he studies.

You make your way there now; and sure enough, there he is. He's sitting perfectly upright, his posture immaculate. Your back hurts just thinking about sitting the way he does.

Yet again, the only movement is coming from his wrist as he writes something in his books, just like he did when you were at his dorm. He doesn't look up as you approach, hovering near the table unsurely. Like he's a wild animal to be tamed.

He is a little bit, you think.

"Minho..." You begin hesitantly, if not only to announce your presence.

"Hello, Y/n," he says quietly. He sets his pen down in one movement and looks up at you. Like he doesn't have energy to spare, so he's mindful of every move. "Sit down."

You laugh nervously as you collapse into a chair near him, one seat away from where he is. You are a walking tornado in the pristine museum that is Lee Minho.

"So, what is this, a therapy session?" You tilt your head at him, trying to break this ice. Shit, this is so awkward.

"No," he says again, matter-of-factly. "You've been avoiding me."

"I haven't," you try feebly.

"All you do is lie, Y/n. To yourself too. Stop it."

His comment cuts you unexpectedly.

It hurts even more because he's right. You lied to him and to yourself. You told yourself that avoiding him was the best thing to do. And in addition, suddenly you're irritated and pissed off because of how calm he is.

"Minho."

His tone softens. "Sorry."

You huff and lean back. It feels like when you were a kid, getting into trouble for talking back.

"Why'd you call me here? You've finished your section of the project, so there's no need for us to work together anymore."

Minho shakes his head. "That's not why I asked you here."

You're quiet. Then, "Why?"

"Y/n, I'm not upset about what happened. It seems you are."

He's talking like a fucking therapist, you think. "I didn't mean to touch you like that, it was just on a whim, I was overtired-"

Minho laughs suddenly, his eyes crinkling. It's a surprisingly pleasant sound. "Did you rehearse that excuse?"

You grumble and attempt to wipe the haughty smile off of your face. He's seeing right through you at every turn. "No."

"Well, does being overtired make people want to be close to each other and touch each others' faces?"

You scoff at him, though your heart is pounding. "No. Stop being stupid."

"I'm not stupid. I'm incredibly smart. And I'm right."

"Sure you are, Min."

You freeze. The nickname slips out almost on habit; countless times during the duration of previous project meetings had you called him that purely to irritate him. At first it was a tease. Now it was almost affectionate.

His usual ticked-off reply doesn't come. He looks at you strangely. Then with a slow, deliberate movement, he gets up and sits down in the chair directly next to you. Several of his papers and pens clatter and drift off the table, but he doesn't flinch, nor notice. He doesn't even blink, his gaze entirely, unbrokenly fixed on you.

You gulp.

"I've had a long day," he says calmly. "I missed my lecture this morning because I was studying for my arts exam, and I wasn't able to talk to you these days either, which made it surprisingly worse. I couldn't sleep last night either."

He says all of this with a pure, almost gentle sort of conviction. Like he's a stranger in an elevator, making a polite comment about the weather to fill the silence. It's raining quite hard today. It's predicted sunnier tomorrow, though.

Your throat is dry and it almost hurts to talk. What do you even say to that?

"Okay."

Minho nods solemnly, the ghost of a lopsided grin on his face. His gaze is implicative, almost a smirk. "I happen to be quite overtired at the moment. Do you know what happens when people are overtired, Y/n? I think you do."

Not for the first time in your life do you curse Lee Minho with the eternal role of 'little shit'.

"No," you whisper, unable to speak any louder. "I don't."

"I told you to stop lying."

"I'm not."

He tilts his head a little more. "You are."

You go silent.

Minho's hand comes up to experimentally touch your cheek. You almost flinch at the unexpected gesture but you force yourself to stay still, not wanting to shatter the charged atmosphere. The pads of his fingers are soft and then he draws them back, bringing them to cover his mouth.

He yawns.

He's doing it on purpose now, you think in exasperation. Trying to make me admit that I wasn't overtired at all when I touched him. Even though he already knows what I was doing.

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the other side. At this point he's just teasing. He knows exactly what your intentions are. He's playing it up to frustrate you.

Minho brings one hand to his perfect hair and rifles his fingers through it, gaze never leaving you. He messes it up on purpose and you find yourself almost drawn to him, wanting nothing more to reach out and fix it. His gaze is nothing more than an invitation. At least, that's what you're assuming.

You're so close to him, you could just reach out and brush it away like you did those days ago... so you do. It's as soft as you remember, like pinfeathers between your fingertips, and you card it out of his face in gentle, slow motions, not fixing it completely, busy trying your best to ignore his piercing gaze almost burning through yours.

You hesitantly poke his knee, just checking that he's not an apparition and that this is actually happening. It is. And when you look back up, you feel Minho's presence far closer to you than you did before.

This time, when he tilts his head, it is a gentle question. Yes or no?

You nod shakily.

Minho leans in slowly, eyes flitting to yours, checking every step of the way, before his mouth brushes gently against the curve of your cheekbone. Like a bird's wing brushing your face. Colour floods your cheeks and your face burns rosy as his mouth brushes yours briefly, a little clumsy but full of awkward affection, your eyes closing. Minho presses his forehead to yours for a few seconds and then leans back. You open your eyes.

His hair is a royal mess; you suppose your face is a mirror of his expression. His eyes are still fixed on you, the colour high and flushed on his cheeks, mouth parted. You don't think you've ever seen anything, anyone more beautiful.

Minho has the audacity to grin. To grin.

"I think," he breathes shakily, "that I should be overtired more often."

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yes."

"Y/n?"

"Minho."

"Please stop avoiding me," he says softly. "It was lonely."

You stutter out a response, surprised you're still functioning after he just kissed you. "Okay."

Minho brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know that assignment we were working on together?"

You blink, surprised at the sudden change of subject, but you go along with it. You'd handed in your parts together several days ago; you'd scraped through with a decent mark, and Minho, of course, scored with his usual A+. "Yes?"

Minho actually laughs then and you know instantly that it's a sound you want to hear him make for the rest of your life. "I knew you would struggle with it, so I gave you most of the work so that you'd have to come to me for help. We spent more time together because of it."

Your mouth drops open. "Minho, you didn't."

He grins, poking your cheek. "Told you I'm super smart. I pulled an A+ and a hot partner at the same time."

You kick him in the shin.

a/n bonus: i saw this in the tags and i have to admit i laughed

[thewizardingpost]

Bound by Fate

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ you’ve always felt a strange pull toward James, Sirius, and Remus, but since you’ve come of age, the bond between you and your three closest friends deepens, and you begin to understand that they are your destined partners, your mates

warnings ⌇word count  4.2k, ABO AU, eventual smut (penetration & oral), friends to lovers/mates, omega!reader, alpha!james/sirius/remus, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending 

Mates were a concept you’d only heard about in tales—an undeniable bond that grew between two souls, a connection so deep and instinctual it could never be ignored, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t just about attraction or desire; it was about belonging, about finding the person—or persons—that you were meant to be with. The kind of bond that shaped your very existence, binding you together in ways words couldn’t explain—like a key to a lock, a flower to rain, or the stars to the night sky. It was a force that simply was, and nothing could break it.

You’d always imagined the day your mate was revealed would be one of pure joy, a fairy tale come to life. The thought of having someone destined for you filled you with a thrilling, eager anticipation. But all that fervor, all that restless longing to discover who your mate—or mates—might be, came to a crashing halt. It felt as if your heart, once brimming with hope, had splintered into a thousand shards.

The realization of who your mates happened overtime, not some sudden onslaught of emotions like you had expected. It came through scent, intense emotional responses, and heightened physical sensitivity. It was late in the afternoon, the four of you hanging around in the library, when the “change” started. 

There’s a section in the library that the four of you consider your hidden nook. It’s not genuinely hidden, just tucked away in the far corner, behind a row of dusty old books and faded tapestries. Few people venture that deep into the library, and even fewer linger long enough to notice the secluded alcove. But to you, it’s the perfect little refuge—a space that feels entirely your own, like a secret world where time slows down.

The four of you are seated on the worn rug, scattered across the floor in comfortable silence. James sits with his legs crossed, leaning against a stack of heavy textbooks, his eyes focused on the pages of a book he’s half-reading, half-absentmindedly flipping through. Sirius is sprawled across from him, one arm resting on his knee, staring at the crackling flame of a nearby candle, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Remus, ever the quiet one, is at the edge of the group, his book in hand, but his attention more often than not drawn to the stillness of the room, as though taking in the peacefulness of the space.

The soft rustle of turning pages is the only sound that fills the air, a steady rhythm that matches the calm energy of the nook. It’s not the usual kind of gathering—no loud conversations or jokes, just the simple presence of each other in a shared, unspoken understanding. 

Then, without warning, Remus’s shoulder brushes against yours. It’s nothing—just the briefest contact, the kind of thing you wouldn’t normally notice, except... something about it makes your skin prickle. A spark of warmth, a flicker of something you can’t quite place. You freeze for a split second, feeling the pulse of it surge through you, and then just as quickly, you shrug it off. It must’ve been the wind, or the way you shifted—anything but what it really was. You try to ignore the slight tremor still lingering in your chest, pretending it never happened. The air in the nook feels the same as it always does. Quiet. Safe.

Yet, there’s no denying that something’s begun to stir beneath the surface, even if you’re not ready to face it yet.

Then one by one, like dominoes, it all began to spiral out of control. At first, it was just a subtle thing—Remus’s hand grazing yours while passing you a book, his touch sending a wave of electricity up your arm, leaving your skin buzzing. Then, it was Sirius leaning a little too close as he joked about something, his scent wrapping around you, stronger than usual, more intoxicating—like fresh earth after rain, something comforting and wild all at once. And James, always nearby, his proximity suddenly making your pulse race, the warmth of his presence a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you in no matter how hard you tried to fight it. Each moment felt like a spark, a jolt, until it was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just their touches or the way their scents seemed to fill the air—it was the way everything about them felt more intense, more overwhelming. Their voices had a deeper resonance in your chest, their laughter echoing in your bones like an unspoken invitation. At first, you tried to pretend it was nothing, just your imagination, but soon, it became impossible to deny. The way your body reacted to them—too sensitized, too attuned—felt like the inevitable shift of something you could no longer outrun.

And then, in the middle of Potions class, it happened.

One of the other students—a nameless boy from Slytherin, someone you barely thought about—brushed past you. He reached across the table for an ingredient, his arm brushing against yours in a way that should’ve felt completely normal. A simple touch. But as his skin made contact with yours, nothing happened. No spark. No warmth. No shiver running up your spine like you’d come to expect. Just, nothing.

You blinked, confused at first. Normally, physical contact wasn’t something you’d really notice, not the way some others seemed to. But this time, you couldn’t shake the contrast. His touch felt so bland—empty even. You felt the coldness of it, a distance that was somehow more obvious than if he hadn’t touched you at all. It left you with a strange, hollow feeling.

Your breath caught as the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: The Marauders. Every time their hands brushed yours, or their scent filled the air around you, it was different—alive, almost electric. They didn’t just touch you, they reached you. They made you feel things you hadn’t known you could feel. Now, at this moment, it clicked.

This wasn’t just some passing attraction, some infatuation or idle crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. They weren’t just your friends—they were your mates. And the stark difference between their touch and this boy’s was all the proof you needed.

Your heart raced. The truth, like a wave crashing over you, was undeniable now. There was no escaping it. You didn’t just feel something for them. You felt everything.

What should’ve been an exciting day—the day you discovered who your mate was—only left you with a gnawing anxiety deep in your chest. These were your best friends, the three people you trusted most. The thought of a relationship with them was overwhelming, and the idea of all three? It made your stomach churn. Could this even work? How would things change between you? Would they accept you as more than just a friend? It felt impossible. The four of you were connected, destined even, but they already had each other. What could you possibly add to this bond? Was this “fate” really a thing, or just some cruel twist of circumstance? 

You pulled away from them out of fear of them realizing they’ll notice the strange connection between the four of you. It was easy to avoid them knowing their schedules and habits. If they were in Hogwarts, you went to Hogsmede. If they were in a class with you, you called out sick. If they started down the hallway you were in, you’d turn on your heel and speed-walk in the opposite way. Despite the tug towards them and how much you missed them, you decided it was better to run away and deal with the pain in your heart. 

It was impossible to keep running from them. They’d given you space, respecting your need to figure things out, but even they knew there was only so much distance you could put between yourself and them. Fate, however, wasn’t so patient. The Marauder’s Map marked your every step, your exact location, as if it were pulling them toward you—like invisible strings already tying everything together. You couldn’t escape them, not anymore. You couldn't outrun it—not when fate was already pulling you together, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.

You stepped out from the entrance to your dormitory, expecting the usual quiet corridor stretching before you. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you froze.

There they were, standing in your path, as though they had been waiting for you. James, Remus, and Sirius—all of them, their presence unmistakable. The air was thick with tension, and you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging between you.

Sirius was the first to speak, his voice sharp, laced with frustration. “You gonna keep running away?” he demanded, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes—hurt, confusion. “We’ve given you space, but this… this is getting ridiculous. You can’t keep doing this.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the topic you weren’t ready to face. You didn’t want to, confront it, not yet—not ever. Your fear of their response to finding out was too strong. “I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice came out a little too quickly, too quietly. "It’s nothing. I just needed some time."

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at your words. His jaw tightened, frustration turning into something sharper. “Nothing?” he repeated, his voice rising just enough to show the tension in his words. “You think we’re that stupid? You think we haven’t noticed? You can’t just pretend like nothing’s wrong. You’ve been shutting us out for days. We’re not blind.”

Before you could respond, Remus stepped forward, his brow furrowed. He shot Sirius a brief glare, his eyes softening when he turned back to you. “Sirius,” he said, voice calm but insistent, trying to de-escalate the situation. “We’re just worried. Please, talk to us.”

You could feel their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. But your mind raced, and all you could do was let out an awkward laugh, forcing a tight smile. “It’s really nothing,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… need some space, okay? I’ll be fine. It’s fine.”

You tried to take a step back, hoping to end the conversation before it spiraled further. You wanted to escape, to not deal with it.

But James stopped you, his voice soft but laced with hurt. “Please, can we talk?” he asked, his eyes full of concern. “We can go somewhere private.”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the silent desperation behind it, and for a moment, it softened something inside you. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You hadn’t meant to pull away from them like this. The sudden realization of how much his feelings mattered to you hit you all at once, and for a brief moment, you faltered.

But despite the softening in your heart, you still couldn’t bring yourself to stay. You didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to explain it.

Still, you nodded reluctantly, and with that, the four of you found yourselves back in your dorm room, the heavy silence following you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and the room seemed too small for what was about to unfold.

You sat on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. The tension in the room was thick, the unspoken words filling the space around you.

Sirius paced, his footsteps sharp and purposeful, the restless energy in his movements clear. He looked angry—his jaw was clenched, and his hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked back and forth. His expression was hard and unreadable.

Remus stood a little further away, his arms crossed, brow furrowed in concern, though a subtle frustration lingered in his posture as well. He kept looking at you, his gaze soft but questioning, like he was waiting for you to open up. You could see he was trying to read you, trying to understand why you were pulling away, but there was an edge to his calm that you hadn’t seen before.

James, standing a little off to the side, looked almost... small. He was still, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on you. The hurt in his eyes was undeniable, and you could feel it pressing down on you. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t push, but the silence between you two seemed to speak volumes. His usually carefree nature was gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, unable to meet any of their eyes for long. The weight of everything was suffocating.

“I… I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, but it felt like you were shouting. “I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this. Everything’s changing, and I—”

Sirius stopped pacing and turned sharply toward you, his frustration bubbling over. “What is changing?” His voice wasn’t angry, but there was a harshness to it. “You’ve been shutting us out, and we have no clue why. We’re here, but you just keep pushing us away like we’re the problem.”

Remus stepped forward, his voice gentler, but you could see the frustration lingering behind his calm demeanor. “Sirius, let her speak,” he said, a quiet plea for understanding. His gaze softened again, but there was a flicker of concern. “We’re just trying to understand. Whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling, we’re here for you.”

James didn’t say anything, but his arms dropped to his sides, his posture deflated as he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel the weight of his concern and hurt all at once. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, as if everyone was waiting for you to finally break it.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but it was hard to find the right words. The reality of what you had been avoiding, what you had been pushing down, seemed to finally come to the surface. "I just… I don’t know how to deal with this," you said, the last word slipping out before you could stop it. "It’s too much.”

What if I’ve already lost them? What if this is it?

It felt like sand slipping through your fingers, everything slipping away from you as you stood there, helpless. You were losing them, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Remus, his voice gentle yet firm, broke through your spiraling thoughts. “Please, dove,” he said, taking a small step closer. His tone held an urgency that made your heart flutter, though it only added to your feeling of being overwhelmed. “Talk to us.”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to find the strength to speak. Your thoughts twisted and turned, and for a second, you almost couldn’t breathe. Tell them?

You exhaled shakily and gave a sigh, the words finally slipping out despite every part of you wanting to avoid it. “It started slow,” you whispered, voice trembling. “At first, I didn’t even realize. It wasn’t like anything changed overnight. But... when you touch me—when any of you touch me, I feel it. This electricity, this spark that... I don’t know how to explain it. The way your hand brushed against mine, it felt like something else. And then, when I smelled you… your scent—God, it pulled me in. It felt so right. So natural. And I started noticing it with all of you. It was like I couldn’t breathe right unless I was near you.”

You stopped, feeling the weight of the words you hadn’t let yourself say before. The words you didn’t think you could say. The words that terrified you.

“Then there was the day I realized,” you continued, barely above a whisper. “It was in Potions class. Another guy—he just bumped into me, reached over to grab an ingredient, and... I felt nothing. His touch was just... bland. Empty. No sparks. No pull. And it hit me all at once. It was like I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wasn’t imagining it. That’s when it all clicked, that I wasn’t just feeling this because I was going mad. I was feeling it because you—you three—are my mates.”

You blinked rapidly, and a few tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You looked away, embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop them. The dam had broken, and all you could do was let the words spill out, hoping that in some way, it would make sense to them.

“And I was scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Scared that if I let this happen, it would ruin everything. That I’d lose all of you, that I’d lose the friendship we had, that I’d mess it all up.”

James sighed softly, his voice full of compassion. “Oh, love...” he murmured, his tone so gentle it almost broke you further. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the warmth in his presence as he took a small step toward you. “We’re not going anywhere, alright? You’ve never had to be afraid of that.”

Remus nodded, his expression serious but soft. He stepped forward as well, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not alone in this. We’re never leaving you. We’ll face this together, all of us.” His words felt like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind of your own doubts.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, but you didn’t feel like you were sinking anymore. Their presence, their words, wrapped around you like a blanket, calming the storm within you—at least a little.

But then, as if on cue, Sirius stepped forward. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he studied you. And then, without saying a word, he reached out. His hand brushed gently against your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped down your face.

You froze for a second. The touch, light but deliberate, shocked you. It was like electricity coursed through your veins, a rush of warmth and something deeper, something you hadn’t fully understood until now. Something that made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes searched yours, a question hanging in the air between you two. “Did that feel like what you explained?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with curiosity. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, but when you looked up at him, something in you shifted. Your chest tightened, but not from fear. The tension inside you seemed to ease, just for a moment.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, leaning into his touch as if you’d done it a thousand times before. It was crazy—how quickly you just... let go. How quickly you could calm down under his touch, like the world outside of the room didn’t matter. Like everything was right again, for just a breath.

His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, the contact grounding you. And somehow, in that one moment, the tears halted–your spiraling thoughts stilled. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his hand, the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it could all work out. The bond—the mateship you’d been avoiding, the feelings you’d been too afraid to admit—it was no longer just a weight, an anxiety-filled weight.

Sirius brushes his fingers over your neck, lulling over to your exposed right shoulder. His touch brings heat, making your mind grow dizzy from it. Its insane how much a bond carries control over you, your emotions–it’s scary, terrifying how much power it holds. 

He brings his hand upwards again, brushing your chin up. Sirius moved slowly, eyes trained on yours as he leans in–his breath falling onto your face. With a quick glance down to your lips, you knew his intentions. You nod, admitting your permission and his lips are on yours in a heartbeat. The brief brushes of your bodies touching brought upon was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours–hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut, your own hand reaching to tangle in his black hair and pull him closer. 

He ends on top of you on your dorm bed, body slotted between your opened thighs. His kisses travel down your neck, his voice breathless, “are your roommates returning today, beautiful?”

You have to pull your mind out of the dizzy headspace it had begun to enter into to hum your confirmation. When he continued his kisses on your neck, you’ve been sent into orbit. Your head is tossed back against the bed sheets, whines escaping you. You’ve let go completely, no more holding back your feelings against the bond–you’re trying to bring it closer to you, needing it to encapsulate you. It’s almost like you're trying to make time for all the days you spent avoiding them. 

When Sirius nips at your neck, at a spot where your pheromones are strongest–James and Remus step back in. You’re dazed, but you hear them talking in the back. You catch a few words–mating mark, where, need to choose different locations. It all spiraled from there. Clothes were almost ripped off, moans and the smell of sex filled the air. 

Each one–James, Remus, and Sirius–got a chance at fucking you. You took each one’s knot, your cunt sore–so unbelievably sore, red, and puffy from the way they all were feral. It was everything you wished for, everything you were pleading them for. Your moans of, “o-oh… Please! James, shit–please.” Your whines for more, begging Sirius to go faster–harder. Your gasps and tugs on Remus’ hair when he ate you out, pleading that he never stopped. It was a frenzy, one that didn’t even begin to slow down until the sun had begun to rise again. 

Remus, having taken you in doggy–his length pressing against your cervix–placed his mating mark on the back of your neck. 

Sirius, doing it in missionary, placed his on the right side of your neck–by your ear. 

Then James, letting you ride his length to your heart’s content, had his placed on the opposite side of Sirius’. The guys had placed theirs on each other, but you were too out of it to remember–maybe even see it with how blurred your vision was. 

Your earlier tears—those tears of sadness, of fear that they might leave you, that they might break your heart—shifted. They no longer stung with the weight of abandonment but softened into something more profound. They became tears of pleasure. 

Your heart, once clenched with fear and doubt, was now full—overflowing with something gentle, something unspoken, but undeniable. It wasn’t just relief; it was something deeper. The marks of your bond, the quiet promises that passed between you, were beginning to settle in your skin, into your soul.

The anxiety that had once twisted in your chest, the fear that they would eventually slip away, was transformed now. In its place, you could feel the steady, unshakable presence of their connection to you. Their touch, their scent, the weight of their bodies near you—it was all part of you now.

Later, you found yourself nestled between them, your body tucked close as the four of you curled up together in the small bed. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets. Sirius, who had been the most distant, now lay with his arm across your waist, his breath even and calm against your skin. Remus was on the other side, his back to yours, his warmth a comforting constant as you all found a rhythm together.

James, still close, shifted slightly in his sleep, his hand brushing across your hair. You sighed deeply, feeling the peace settle over you like a thick, soft blanket. Every part of you, every part of this moment, felt complete.

And with that, you understood. You understood the bond—how, in a way that was unexplainable, yet irrefutable, you were intricately woven into their lives, and they into yours. It wasn’t just fate. It was this—the quiet knowledge that, from now on, you would always be part of them. That you were theirs, as they were yours.

As you lay there, tucked into them, your body began to relax, the warmth of their embrace washing over you. Your skin seemed to hum with the connection, a gentle vibration of energy coursing beneath your skin. It was a bond, a promise—one that would last, that would hold.

The mark, invisible to the eye, burned into your heart—a symbol of the truth you now knew, of the future that had been set long before you could even comprehend it.

The weight of their promise to stay with you, to never leave, fills the space between your hearts, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling a peaceful purr rise from your chest, soft and content. There was no fear now, no loneliness. Only the warmth of their love, their touch, their presence.

You were theirs. And they were yours. And everything, finally, fell into place.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SWEETS AND KISSES..

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF

ANAKIN SKYWALKER's apron is tied behind his back, just right - not too tight and not too loose. Even though it’s a little big, and there’s a concentrated pout on his lips as he carefully stirs the batter. Messy curls kept falling into his face, and you can’t help but reach out to tuck them behind his ear. Having his attention on the dough, his lips curl into a shy smile, cheeks going pink.

“You’re not even helping,” he teases softly, though there’s no annoyance in his tone.

“I’m supervising,” you joke, and his smile only widens.

Every time you move around him--reaching for the vanilla or stealing a chocolate chip--he brushes a kiss somewhere. Your temple, the curve of your cheek, your knuckles, your lips. He doesn’t even think about it; it’s just his second nature. And you don't blame him, after all, he's the sweetest guy you've ever met.

“Careful,” he murmurs when you’re about to pour too much vanilla into the batter. His hands come up to guide yours, chest pressing into your back as he steadies you “There. Perfect.” His voice is so soft, so proud, and you’re blushing more than the reddish cupcakes dough ever will.

Then--his mom walks in.

“Oh, this is adorable,” she says immediately, her warm tone making you smile. “Anakin, are you behaving? And--oh!" her attention now on you "Are you staying for dinner?”

Anakin’s ears go pink as he glances at you, muttering, “Mom…” hoping she'd stop

But she doesn't, and with that, you’re suddenly the center of her attention as she starts asking about everything--where you live and with who, what you’re studying, how you and Anakin met. Her questions are sweet and genuine, but the utter number of them leaves you stammering through answers, trying to keep up.

Anakin sighs quietly, running a hand down his face, eyes closing for a moment as he lets go of the spoon. “Mom,” he mutters under breath, half-exasperated and half-amused.

“What? I’m just curious!” Shmi insists, smiling warmly at you. “You seem so lovely, and I just want to know a bit more about the person who’s been making my son so happy.”

Anakin shoots you an apologetic look over his shoulder, though the faint blush on his cheeks suggests he doesn’t mind as much as he lets on. He sets the tray of cupcakes into the oven “Mom,” he tries again, softer this time “Please, next fime.”

Shmi just waves him off with a laugh, giving your arm a gentle pat. “Next time then. I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, winking as she leaves.

As soon as she’s gone, Anakin sighs, searching to grab your hand before squeezing it. “I’m sorry about her,” he says quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “She just… really likes you. Which is good. Great, actually. I like her liking you.” He’s rambling, cheeks pink, and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

You lean into his side, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he instantly relaxes, free hand settling on your waist. “Thanks for… putting up with all of this,” he murmurs. Then, his lips brush your hairline, soft as ever, as he whispers, “You’re absolutely an angel.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[gayofthefae]

"I should have explained myself because maybe then Eleven would have taken me with her, but - I don't know. I didn't know what to say."

That isn't what he said the first time.

"I should have said something. And maybe if I had said that thing, Eleven would want me there with her."

The sentiment of him being with her and knowing/ensuring she's safe is consistent. But he isn't actually repeating himself. There's no need for him to as a person and as a screenwriter, repetition should DEFINITELY be cut.

He's changing. He's brainstorming. He's starting to consider other angles of the "could have"s. The "what if"s.

He starts with "what if I'd just forced an 'I love you'". But I think he likely settles on what we can logically deduce for ourselves in that situation - "I made the right choice prioritizing with what I knew of the consequences at the time".So he changes. He changes.

He changes to "I should have explained myself".

"Explained myself" is NOT the same as "said that thing" and that is VITAL.

I should have just sucked it up and told her I loved her if it meant keeping her safe.

No, I did the best I could with the information I had

I should have told her the truth. Maybe she would have taken it better if I had just told her that I don't love her but it's my fault, not hers. Now she thinks it's hers and that I'm hiding it.

And, perfect timing, Will comes in with (in Mike's pov) "It makes sense why you didn't, though, don't beat yourself up. She was gonna get hurt either way and everything would have been a risk as to how much."

And Mike nods. And the next time we see him, he's saying

"Will she still even want me in her life if I can't give her the love she wants? All I can do now is to make sure she knows it isn't her fault, that's the selfless act I can do for her, but if I confess I don't love her, what other use am I to her? Will doing what's best for her by telling her it's not her fault, it's mine, instead of continuing to lie make me lose her?"

He says "explain". He starts with "maybe I should have changed the 'what'". Then he shifts to "maybe I should changed what she thought of the 'why'". Ironically, his question in the van once he's come to that conclusion is "how?".

The first pitch he makes is "maybe I should have told her I loved her" and Will says "don't worry, you'll have another chance", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

aversion.

But then he says "maybe I should have just explained the real reason behind my actions instead of denying them all together" and Will says "that's a scary thing to do. It's a hard decision. You're doing your best", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

understanding.

Honestly, being understood. And sometimes that's what you need to find understanding. He's been confused this whole time, that's been his whole thing, but he looks like he's starting to piece something together now - finally. Will put his own feelings into words for him to hear out loud so could finally get them and get them in a validated way.

Instinctively, he knew the first one was easier but wrong. He didn't want to lie to her. Both times Will said "if that's what you want to do, I believe in you", but only once did he agree. He knew it felt like the wrong choice the first time and you can see it. The second time was a new choice he was considering.

And you know what? While we're here. Telling her he loves her: aversion. Telling her the truth: understanding and drive. What happens next?

He expresses "what if when I tell her the truth, as I've decided is the right choice, she appreciates it but doesn't need me for anything else beyond that?" And Will says "she'll stay. You got this.", and he reacts with

Comfort.

He didn't know what to do. Then he did, but he was scared to do it. Then he wasn't so scared anymore.

He's thrilled to see her and forgets for a second but - much like El with Will on roller rink day - is reminded by seeing Will that now that she's actually here, it's real. He's committed to his actions and they're impending.

But he's not so scared anymore. Bravery, though, doesn't mean no nerves. He's hesitant and not happy looking when he talks to her about it first. He tries to lighten the mood - "the whole world went to shit and everything" - and he's watching her reactions like a hawk. It feels like less of a risk now enough that he can do it, but not so little that he isn't scared. Either way though, it's worth the risk for her to know the problem isn't her.

He didn't know what to do. Now he does. He was scared, but he's not as much anymore. Not too much to do it. They're interrupted. Okay, oh well, he'll find another time.

And now to break your heart:

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, but Mike met that with aversion.

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, Mike met that with understanding and agreement.

Mike was scared, Will said he had no reason to be, Mike met that with comfort.

(I'm sorry) Mike was scared for El - unrelated - and looked to Will for comfort - as he had every other time - when he tapped him on the shoulder, Will said he should tell her he loves her, and he reacts with

anguish.

This was not Mike's plan.

This was not their plan, so he thought.

Mike's reaction tells us everything about what he knew and what he meant for what's to come. This was not what he meant. That was not what he was going to say. This was not his plan.

And there's that part of you too that always wishes to go back to semi-ignorant bliss. Even if just panicked confusion. Because wasn't it nice: when telling her you loved her evoked this

And not this

Wasn't it nice when you knew...just a little less?

Wasn't it nice, in a way, when you couldn't see the happy ending so clearly?

Don't you sort of miss - when you couldn't taste it?

also fuck it for just for that list bit and the bridge of this song here's my illicit affairs edit linked because "you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

[hencheri]

18+ mdni.

pairing: stalker!wayv x fem!reader

warnings: mention of stalking, harassment, toxic ex relationship, manipulation, noncon.

for @vanesycho <3

.

kun kun is so meticulous about it... so secretive. he plays the perfect friend. he's soft, caring, reassuring... and handsome. kun is the one who you go to for advice, the one you know will have the right answer to everything. you can trust him, and you do, oh so deeply. it's so easy to fall for him, so easy to believe in his sweet words.

you will never know that his real feelings are perverted and sick, though. you could never suspect it. you could never think that his camera roll is full of pictures of you, that he knows your schedule by heart and that he keeps track of all of your escapades.

but kun only does this to protect you, he convinces himself. he isn't intruding your privacy, no, he's just making sure that nothing happens to you. he wants you safe, safe from bad and cruel men. the pictures are simply because he can't get enough of your beauty, it's a compliment, really, that he keeps them.

xiaojun he isn't a stalker! but when he finds his person, finds the woman who's the perfect fit for him, the one worthy of his attention, he can't get rid of her— and in this case, you. it could go in two different ways: xiaojun begs you to come back to him, tells you that breaking up with him is nonsense, that you need him and won't find a better boyfriend than him. or he insults you, says the meanest things to you and accuses you of having cheated on him. honestly, both could be happening at the same time.

he sends you countless messages, literally blows up your voicemail. you have to tell him where you are. it doesn't matter if you aren't together anymore, you should've stayed a couple anyway. xiaojun is just such a jealous ex, and a jealous boyfriend in general, he won't believe you're not with other men until you prove it to him.

he's not secretive at all. he's very adamant on letting you know that he wants you, he's really straightforward and he isn't afraid to admit his stalker-ish behaviour (he doesn't see it this way anyway). if he happens to follow you somewhere, he'll come up to you. if he wants a picture of you, he'll take it right in front of you, he doesn't care that you're against it. and if he wants to fuck you, he will.

ten he's a little pervert, in my opinion. he's super touchy as your friend. you got used to it, seeing he's like that with most of his friends, you don't put any meaning to it. but in reality, he has ulterior motives. and it'd be obvious if you weren't too naive.

you've even given a spare key to your apartment to ten, but of course he uses it to his advantage. he comes when he knows you're not there, snoop through your things, steals a pair of panties or two.

he sends you anonymous letters, telling you everything he'd do to you in it. you tell ten about it, about your stalker and all the gross things he says in his letters, pretending like he isn't the author of them. he even dares to act disgusted of the words used in them, says your stalker is crazy and dangerous, you should let ten stay overnight so you feel safer in your home. honestly, he finds it quite fun to play the protective friend, watching the distress on your face, unaware that your stalker is actually your closest friend.

yangyang i could see him doing the same thing as ten because he looooves seeing you scared and being the one to reassure you. not only does it boost his ego to be your saviour, he also can take advantage of it.

he slowly and slowly makes you dependant of him, making you believe that nowhere is safe— except beside him, of course. yangyang is smart, he can fool you without any problem. but i think eventually he's going to be too blinded by his pride and let something slip. the moment you discover the truth about him, you're obviously terrified, you don't want to be near yangyang ever again.

but yangyang won't let that happen...

winwin baby could never be a stalker, he's got a gentle soul and the sweetest heart. he would never ever be the cause of your torment— well...

winwin looks at your instagram at least 5 times a day. it's nothing bad, just a little crush he has on you. sure, maybe he does fantasize about you, like, all the time, and maybe he's a little jealous of your other male friends, but he's not harming you. he would never.

until his crush gets out of hands. winwin, such a panties stealer, let me tell you. he steals everything, down to your hair ties and bras. if he sees you chatting with any men, he'll get so mad he'll purposefully start an argument with you, going as far as calling you names— something you thought you would've never heard from him. he also tracks your phone because he can't bear the idea of having you seeing other men.

hendery i don't see him as the type to be a stalker either, even though i can believe he could become obsessive very fast. he wouldn't see the purpose into creating a false "perfect" image of himself, or have the patience to follow you, do things without your knowledge.

but hendery is very clingy. he does creepy stuff like waiting outside your apartment (yes, he'd have the patience for that lol only because he knows you're there or leaving soon), saying he's there, that you have to go open the door to him. you get freaked out by his behaviour and ask him to stop, but he doesn't understand why he would. the more you push him away, the clingier he gets.

i once described him as a sicko in love and yeah... he totally is. but he needs you to love him back! it could have happened when you first became friends because hendery is so handsome, he's funny and really attentive, but unfortunately, he got a little too enamoured of you... it's okay though, you'll eventually realize that you're as in love with him as he is with you.