#so hard to keep Trying to do anything anymore.

[cosmicanakin]

╰ ﹒ DEAN eatin' you out like a man who's starved. mhm. 🤰🏻

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | oral sex ( F RECEIVING ) | pussy slapping | dean is a fuckin' tease but wbk | mild degradation | edging | rough sex | praise kink | DOM!DEAN | dean's a lil freak 'n loves when reader begs for him. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

it's supposed to be a lazy day. nothing to do, nowhere to go, just the two of you tangled in bed. but DEAN has never been able to keep his hands to himself when it comes to you. and now, you're spread out underneath him, a complete mess, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs pinned wide as his mouth works you over like it's his favorite fucking meal.

"dean—fuck, i can't," you whimper, your hands gripping at the sheets as his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and deliberate. he's been at it for what feels like forever, switching between sucking, licking, and teasing until you're trembling, your body so sensitive you can't think straight.

he pulls back just enough to look up at you, and the cocky grin on his face makes your stomach flip. "can't?" he repeats, his voice low and playful. "nah, baby, you can. you're gonna."

you start to protest, but the words die in your throat when his fingers slide into you, curling just right, and his mouth is back on you, relentless. your hips buck against him, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his free hand presses down on your stomach to keep you in place.

"DEAN!" you cry out, your voice breaking, and that's when he does it—pulls his mouth away just enough to slap your pussy. not too hard, but enough to make you yelp, your whole body jolting at the sharp sting.

"shit," he groans, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches you squirm. "look at you, darlin'. so fuckin' pretty when you're like this. all worked up f'me."

"you're such an ass," you pant, glaring at him, but the heat in your voice is undercut by the way your hips roll, seeking more of his touch.

he smirks, his fingers sliding out of you only to deliver another quick slap to your slick folds, and you gasp, your back arching off the bed. "yeah?" he teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. "an ass who's got you drippin' all over the fuckin' sheets, baby."

"de, please," you whine, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. more of his mouth, his fingers, his cock—anything, everything.

"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing his way back up your body until he's hovering over you, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh. "tell me what ya want."

"you," you manage, your voice shaking. "just fuck me already."

his grin widens, and he leans down to kiss you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "thought you'd never ask," he mutters, lining himself up and sliding into you in one smooth thrust.

and just like that, your lazy day is anything but. <3

[dissapointu]

You are extremely cool, I am impressed by your works, really, your content is amazing. If you don mind (ignore that if you do) I would love to read about arcane characters who found out that their s/o are self harming. English is not my native language, so sorry if I wrote something wrong. And thank you again for your content, it’s healing me

Thank you so much for your kind words—they mean the world to me, truly. I’m so honored that my writing can bring you even a little bit of comfort. You’re so brave for sharing this request, and I want you to know I’m writing this with as much care and as I can. You’re never alone, and you deserve all the support, love, and healing in the world.

Jinx

Jinx has lived through her own struggles, so when she finds out, it hits her hard.

• At first, she’d be shocked, maybe even a little panicked. “Wait, wait… you’re serious? You’re really feeling this way?”

• But once it sinks in, her protective side takes over. She’d grab your hands, look you in the eyes, and say something like, “You don’t have to hurt yourself, okay? I’m here. Always. You can tell me anything.”

• Jinx might struggle to find the right words, but she’d pour her energy into reminding you how much you mean to her, distracting you with her chaotic ideas or working on projects together to keep your mind busy.

• “You’re stuck with me, got it? No matter what.”

Vi

Vi would feel a gut punch of worry and guilt when she finds out, blaming herself for not noticing sooner.

• She’d approach you carefully, her usual confidence softened by concern. “Hey, I know something’s going on. You can talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

• When you open up, she’d immediately pull you into a hug, holding you tightly like she could shield you from your pain. “I don’t care how bad it gets. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m with you.”

• Vi would try to help in her practical, straightforward way—whether that’s sitting with you during hard times, helping you find support, or just being a safe space for you to vent.

• “You’re strong. And on the days you don’t feel strong, I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”

Sevika

Sevika might not know how to respond at first, but underneath her tough exterior, she’d be deeply shaken and determined to support you.

• She’d bring it up gently, her voice calm but serious. “I’ve noticed… some things. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

• Once you told her, she’d listen carefully, nodding as she processes what you’re saying. “Alright. Thanks for telling me. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’ve got you.”

• Sevika would be protective in her own quiet way, always keeping an eye on you without making you feel overwhelmed. She’d remind you of your strength, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.

• “You’re tougher than whatever’s weighing you down. And I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

Silco

Silco would approach the situation with a calm intensity, his protective instincts kicking in immediately.

• He’d carefully bring it up when you seemed open to talking, his voice low but steady. “I’ve seen the marks. Let me help you.”

• When you open up, he’d listen without interruption, his expression serious but full of quiet care. “The weight you carry is yours, but you don’t have to carry it alone. You are far more than this pain.”

• Silco would offer practical help, ensuring you have resources or someone to talk to. He’d remind you of your worth with every gesture and word, showing you that he sees you as more than your struggles.

Vander

Vander would be heartbroken when he finds out, but he’d immediately focus on making you feel safe and supported.

• He’d sit you down somewhere quiet, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, I’ve noticed some things that worry me. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, he’d pull you into a warm, protective hug, whispering, “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, no matter what.”

• Vander would be the type to check in regularly, always making sure you feel loved and valued. He’d remind you of all the reasons he admires you, even on days when you struggle to see them yourself.

Ekko

Ekko would be hit hard when he finds out, but he’d channel his feelings into being the best support system he could be.

• He’d approach you gently, finding the right moment to say, “Hey, I noticed some stuff, and I just wanna make sure you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

• When you open up, he’d nod, taking it all in with quiet understanding. “Thanks for trusting me. I know it’s not easy.”

• Ekko would find little ways to lift you up—whether it’s spending time with you, leaving you encouraging notes, or reminding you of all the things he loves about you.

• “You’ve got me, okay? We’re in this together.”

Jayce

Jayce would be deeply concerned but determined to be there for you in every way possible.

• He’d sit you down gently and say, “I’ve noticed something… and I just want to make sure you’re alright. Can we talk about it?”

• When you open up, he’d listen carefully, his hands holding yours tightly. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”

• Jayce would be all about finding solutions, whether that’s helping you access resources, supporting you in your healing, or just being a steady presence in your life.

Viktor

Viktor would be quietly devastated when he finds out, but his empathy would shine through.

• He’d bring it up carefully, his voice soft but full of concern. “I’ve noticed some things, and… I just want to make sure you’re alright. Can you talk to me?”

• When you open up, he’d listen with his full attention, nodding as he processes everything. “Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy.”

• Viktor would find thoughtful ways to support you, whether it’s leaving you encouraging words, sharing quiet moments with you, or reminding you that he sees you as more than your pain.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would approach the situation with grace and quiet strength.

• She’d gently sit you down and say, “I’ve noticed some things that worry me. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but I’m here.”

• When you open up, she’d take your hand and say softly, “You’re so important to me, and I want to help in any way I can. You’re not alone.”

• Caitlyn would make sure you feel supported without overwhelming you, always reminding you of how much she admires and cares for you.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be deeply empathetic and immediately focused on supporting you in a way that feels meaningful.

• She’d approach you gently but directly, saying, “I’ve noticed something… and I want to help. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d listen carefully, her expression soft but serious. “You are worth every bit of effort and care, and I’ll remind you of that as often as you need.”

• Mel would be the type to help you find resources or create a support system, always making sure you know you’re loved and valued.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would approach the situation with quiet strength and determination.

• She’d bring it up directly but with care, saying, “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. Let me help.”

• When you open up, she’d nod seriously and say, “You are stronger than this pain, and I’ll stand by you every step of the way.”

• Ambessa would be fiercely protective, always reminding you of your worth and showing you that you’re never alone in this battle.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would be soft and empathetic, immediately focusing on making you feel safe.

• She’d sit with you quietly and say, “I noticed some things, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d hold your hands tightly and say, “Thank you for telling me. I’m here, always.”

• Maddie would be the type to check in with you often, reminding you through little actions and words that you’re loved and never alone.

Lest

Lest would be heartbroken but gentle and supportive when she finds out.

• She’d approach you with quiet care, saying, “I noticed something, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d listen attentively and say softly, “Thank you for trusting me. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

• Lest would make sure you always felt loved and valued, reminding you that you mean so much to her.

[alkaline-wtr]

Dirty Talk 141 Head-cannon

Description: How I imagine the boys would feel about dirty talk. Warnings/Genres: 141 x fem!reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, pwp, head-cannon WC:742

** A bit rough but I just wanted to get this up. Enjoy.

Soap: Johnny enjoys dirty talk so much, in fact, he does most of the talking. While you lie on your back pinned into the mattress by his body weight, he spews a string of praises through heavy pants and grunts. Needily bucking his hips into you.

"You like that, huh, feeling me inside you? You feel so good Darlin'. So wet for me, yeah?"

Each sentence comes out as breathy whines. The words nearly caught in his throat as he struggled to keep a steady rhythm. You feel Johnny's length deep with each sloppy thrust.

"Fuck,"

He whimpers,

"I'm getting close darlin’ you just drive me crazy every time."

You could hardly get a word in if you wanted, but you don't mind much.

Gaz: For Kyle, dirty talk is useless and unproductive. He doesn’t care to hear your filthy mewls when your mouth is better suited for other activities.

His 'Shut up and take it' attitude leads him to find any way he can think to keep your tongue occupied, whether it's giving you a couple of slender fingers to suck on or guiding you to your knees the moment you start to speak.

Your eyes ogle the spot of his muscular chest where your palm is splayed out.

“Don’t speak baby, just use that pretty little mouth of yours to show me how you feel huh?”

No more needed to be said, you're eagerly taking his cock into your mouth, coating it in your saliva so your hand glides along his shaft with ease.

You can’t help but gaze up at Kyle through your glassy eyes to watch as he bites back moans. A hand holding a fist full of your hair to make sure the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat.

"See Darlin'?"

He grumbled. Words weren’t necessary when the gargled moans that vibrated around him were validating enough.

Simon: It's not that he doesn't like dirty talk, but rather, he uses it as a form of measurement for his performance.

After all, if you're able to form anything more than strangled moans and incoherent babbling, slipping curses out under your breath about how good it feels to have his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, or how hungrily he laps at your overstimulated clit, then he just isn't doing well enough.

His only goal is to have you shaking with beads of sweat glistening over your soft skin. Your mind is too clouded by ecstasy to remember your own name. Words were just that, a meter to indicate your level of pleasure in that given moment.

"Oh, Simon,"

you exhale.

"Feels good."

Your content hum was too stable for him. He picks up the pace, two of his knuckles pressing deeper into you, curling in time with his thumb that circles your clit.

The gasp you let out as you squirm against his palm is reassuring to him. It isn't much longer that you try and speak again, Driving Simon to add another finger, fucking into your bucking hips so hard that you can't help but close your eyes and grip the sheet. The only noise left in the room besides the wet squelching of your tight cunt, is the squeals of pleasure replacing your intended pleas.

Price: John is his own type of animal, his tip just barely nuzzled against your heat. You can squirm and whimper all you want,

"You'll have ta use your words, sweetheart."

He teases,

"Please, please. I just need to feel you already I can't take it anymore."

Your pussy aches and throbs with the need to release. It's been almost an hour of this. John edges you for as long as it takes, only continuing when he deems your begging and pleading to be satisfactory.

"Come on sweetheart you can do better than that."

The mischievous chuckle that follows frustrates you even more. For an older man, he seemed to have a little too much patience and stamina for this type of thing. And your guess was as good as anyone's on what he wanted to hear for you to finally cum.

Still, you continue to try, fighting through the overstimulation. You weren't sure if your jumbled words had met his standards or if maybe he just pitied you seeing the tears forming in your water line. But he leaves you writhing and screaming out his name as you ride out your most intense orgasm yet.

[m1rotics]

Thinking about intoxication play with wooyoung... He spends the whole night refilling your cup, simple mixed drinks that weren't too strong turn into drinks strong every sip making your skin warm and your thoughts less coherent than before.

"here."

you don't even get out a reply as wooyoung shoves the drink in your hand. He's been doing it all night, pouring your drinks for you and stuffing them into your hands before you can think about it. If you could collect your thoughts, and truly think about his actions, you might've questioned them (you wouldn't have, everything wooyoung does is funner when you know nothing) There's a gentle buzzing in your ears, a steady thrum in your chest from the bass of the music, the blue led light makes it impossible to focus. You take a swig anyways, wooyoung watches you with a delighted grin.

It goes down smooth, burns like a bitch, but you're too caught up in wooyoung's gaze to care. His eyes are dark, mean— predatory, almost. Like he wants to chew you up and spit you out. A slight chill trickles down your spine. When you put the cup down, he leans in and licks off the excess that spilled on your chin. Slow, deliberate.

He pulls back with a grin.

his hand wraps around your wrist, "lets go sit."

Your eyes immediately fall to the cherry red of his lips, and his smile gets wider, canines now on display. Words die on your tongue, and you settle for a dumb nod. That you're pretty sure makes you look like a bobblehead. Luckily, he doesn't comment on it, opting to turn around and drag you to the living room couch. He weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, barely stopping for anything. You can only be thankful because you can barely keep yourself up.

He settles nicely on the couch, an arm strung over the back of it. His eyes are heavily lidded, tongue poking his cheek, an invitation. You crawl into his lap, leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"finish your drink, baby,"

his voice is husky, deeper than before, but still holding that edge of playfulness. Though you think you hear a tinge of impatience. With a slow blink, you lift the cup back to your mouth, downing the rest of it. You sink back into him, dazed, suddenly too heavy to keep your head up. His hand rests on your thigh, his thumb languidly stroking your skin, just below the edge of your skirt. It's grounding, in a way, gives you something to latch onto, his touch holding you down in case you float away.

Then, something soft is pressing against the skin of your neck. It takes you a bit to recognize it as Wooyoung lips kissing your neck. Wooyoung nips at the soft skin, his tongue darting out to swipe over it. He kisses his way up the curve of your neck, and he playfully nips your earlobe.

"you okay, pretty girl?" He murmurs, still massaging the fat of your thighs. Your body feels so warm, gooey, like you've been sitting under the sun, your skin is tingling everywhere he touches it.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, but you think you manage out a yes because he doesn't pull away. His hands move up to grip your waist, snaking their way up your shirt. You're panting, heart pacing, and he hasn't even done anything.

"you'll put on a show for everyone, won't you, pretty?" He says, and you let out a whine, shifting in his lap and pushing back into his hard-on. His hands make it to your chest, and he kneads them through your bralette. He traces lazy circles over your nipples through the thin fabric. You arch your back, pressing your chest into his hands. It's so much, but not enough. He keeps a slow, steady pace, rolling your now hard nipples under the rough pad of his finger. Occasionally pinching them to feel you jolt and make you whine.

it's not enough, so you try to grind into the hardness that's pressed against your ass. His hands pull away to still your hips, you let out a displeased groan, fussy and impatient.

"Gonna turn you around," he murmurs, and you try to help but your limbs are listening to you anymore, so you end up letting him maneuver you until you're straddling his lap.

"there you go, pretty."

He purrs, honey-slow and sweet, melts over you like butter in a pan. Slippery and warm in your chest, dripping down to pool in your panties. You gasp when he trails a finger over your covered pussy, stopping to lightly stroke your clit.

"you're so wet, are you enjoying this, pretty?" He practically groans, "you like showing everyone how much of a slut you are, that you'd let me do whatever I want to you."

You whimper, pressing harder against his finger desperate for friction, for anything he's willing to give. And just like that he takes it away, your head falls forward, tears building up on your lash line, hot and big. They roll down your cheeks. You sniffle, hiccup, attempting to grind yourself against his hardness again.

"look at me," he says, but his hand is already under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. He whines, needy, hips bucking into yours at the sight of you. More tears stream down your cheeks, and he moans, breathy. He crashes your mouths together, enveloping you in a hungry kiss. It's urgent and messy, spit beginning to spill down your chin. His mouth tastes like fruit punch and alcohol. Cloying. Addictive. His tongue sweeps over yours, presses into the soft inside of your cheek, drags over your molars. His hands fall to your hips, and you can't help but roll your hips into his.

Fortunately, he doesn't stop you this time. rather, his hips don't stop moving against yours, and the two of you grind together like a well oiled machine. You cant your hips forward to put more pressure on your aching clit, sobbing into his mouth when pleasure rushes through your body like lightning. It brings you an iota of satisfaction, and for a moment, you think that it's enough. You fervently work your hips, humping his clothed boner like a bitch in heat. Wooyoung's moaning in your ear, hushed and filled with need, tells you how beautiful you look. That it feels so good, that you're making him feel so good.

He looks fucked out, and he hasn't even taken his dick out. You'd laugh if you weren't just as desperate. His pupils blown with glassy, heavily lidded eyes. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, and sweat is glistening on his forehead and his chest exposed from his button up. (He doesn't button the first two like a slut.) A little black cross sits in the dip of his chest. You cry out, head falling forward to bury itself in the crook of his neck. He smells like sage and a hint of sweat. it's all encompassing, and it makes your brain woolly. You breathe it in by the lungful, like you can't get enough. Your hips don't stop moving, you can't stop.

You want more, you need more. You need him to give you more.

"wooyoung," you mumble into his skin, but he doesn't respond. You repeat it again, louder, and this time he hums in acknowledgement.

"More," is all you say. your words are slurred, tongue still not cooperating, but you're so pent up. You push through. But he doesn't budge, just squeezes your hips. Fucking tease. "Please, I need more. Can you give me more?"

Wooyoung shudders, another low whine, "say that again."

"wooyoung," you hiccup, "please, do something."

"there you go, ha — fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, gonna give you want, baby."

He pulls his hips back to fumble with the button of his jeans. His hands are shaky, and it takes a few seconds of fiddling with it until he's finally tugging his fly down, and slipping down the waist band of his boxers. His cock is dripping, the tip shines with pre-cum, and beading at the slit. He's so hard, it's turning a light plum color. Tan and pretty, you would taste him if you weren't focused on getting off. Make him cum in your mouth, or your hand.

You pocket that thought for later.

He takes his cock in hand, and presses it against your pussy. He draws his hips back slowly, letting the tip dip into your cunt but not enough to sink in. The head nudges your clit, and you reach down to push him in, guide him to where you need him. He smacks your hand away with a swiftness. He does it a few more times, coating the underside of his dick in your slick. Your hips tremble and your cunt quivers around nothing, tears cling to your lashes.

It stings when he pushes in. A dull ache over shined by the pure relief. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim, and you let out a content sigh. People might be ogling you, probably have been the entire time. Silently watching, judging. Or maybe they're getting off to the free show. You don't really care, besides you can't tear your eyes away from wooyoung to check. His hands are planted on your hips, keeping you from moving. At first, you think he's waiting for you to get used to the stretch, but once you try to lift yourself up, his hands stay locked in place.

"woo, please," you murmur, pressing wet kisses to the side of his mouth. "Stop teasing."

He giggles, "but you're so cute when you beg."

"I've been so, so good, haven't i? Been the best girl, don't be mean." You mutter between peppering kisses to his cheek and jaw.

He gives a contemplative hum, "you have been very good to me today."

You want to nod, but you settle for sinking your teeth in the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, you can feel it, and you pray it enough to make him fuck you senseless.

And that's exactly what he does, his hands tighten their grip, lifting you up until barely the tip is in and then he's shoving you back down. It knocks the air out of you, leaves you shaking. You fall forward, chest to chest, hands balling up his shirt. He does it again, and again, and again until your eyes roll in the back of your head, breathless "ah ah ah" falling from your lips.

"is this what you wanted? to be fucked dumb?"

When did his voice get so low? You don't know, can barely think, but it rumbles through his chest, through your skin. Thick, sticky, molasses-smooth. Only moans slip past your lips, he takes that as an answer in itself.

His chuckles taper off into a moan.

"I know it is, silly girl. can't even speak, can you?" His words come out breathy, a whiny lilt to it. His own desperation seeping into his sentences. It oozes into his actions, too. Thrusting up into you as best as he can in this position, his fingers digging into your hips, bruising.

"woo, I'm gonna-" you warn.

He cuts you short, "it's okay, pretty girl, I got you. cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you squeeze my cock."

His fingers find your clit, and he rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud. Pleasure rips through you, arrow through the heart, sliced down the middle. White-hot and celestial. You choke out a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. You're dizzy, babbling, whimpering in his ear. Wooyoung is no better off, grunting and whining, hips stuttering as he gets closer to orgasm himself.

"c'mon baby, I want you cum on me. You can do that, right? Please, I wanna feel you fall apart on my dick."

His words drag you closer to the edge, and you can feel it. Mind-numbing heat simmering in the pit your stomach. You can't think, so you can only mumble out incomplete sentences. Nonsensical strings of words spewing from your lips as he pushes you closer to climax. You cum with a harsh shudder, burying your teeth in his neck to muffle your moans. You think that's what thrusts him into his own orgasm because he unloads in you after a few more weak humps.

The two you sit there for a while, sweaty and trembling, until you've regained your breath and you're not lightheaded anymore. You lift your head to look at him, and he flashes you a crooked smile, "wanna get out of here?"

You nod faster than you've ever nodded in your life.

[hanjisungslag]

hiiii!! so sorryyy idk if you take requests BUTT could you do headcannons of being in an argument with the aot characters?

🗣️ aot characters & arguments

characters involved: eren, armin, mikasa, connie, jean, sasha, reiner, annie, bertolt, erwin, levi & hange

notes: i do take requests indeed!! :3 i luv angst, i hope this is gd♡

✧ eren jaeger - 

okay, when you guys argue it’s honestly more cute than anything because you’re both so protective of one another. neither of you wanted each other to join the scouts because it was so dangerous but, you both joined anyways obviously. oh my god, you guys non-stop bicker when there’s a mission! and don’t even get me started if you get put into different teams😭 you start TWEAKINGG. after he finds out he’s the attack titan, oh it gets 10x worse. his absolute biggest fear is losing control and hurting you - he’s already so conflicted, confused & felt like an outcast. he definitely lashes out more and becomes snappier than usual but, it does come from a place of sincerity.

when this happens, you just leave it be. as soon as it’s not just bickering anymore, when a voice is raised or an insult is made, you just leave it. you understand he’s going through a lot and just needs a minute but, TRUST ME! when you walk off, you make sure it is known that your feelings are hurt.

“i said no! you are not being on my team! im going with the levi squad, thats final.”

✧ armin arlert -

you both love each other very much but, goddamn you’re both so up your own arses! you are the ‘smart couple’ you are both strategic and witty and have your own way you go about things. so, when it comes to deciding whose plan is better, you always think yours is better and admin thinks his is better. this has (and probably always will be) the main root of your arguments, tbh. nobody likes to get involved either because if someone picks a side then even more havoc will break lose. the only people who’ve ever come between you two is: mikasa, levi & erwin.

it’s just like a debate, you know the ones on jubilee where it’s just people speaking over each other with different facts and sources? literally you two. you both would keep going until the end of time if you didn’t need to sleep, eat and drink water. it’s never that serious at the end of the day, you both love each other and i GUESS you can appreciate each others plans albeit you both think yours is better.

“if you actually listen to me when i say, my layout is better! look at how easy it is to manoeuvre from the castle to the forest!”

✧ mikasa ackerman -

wash the damn scarf. that is all you ask of her. she has literally never washed it and you love but jesus christ, stink LINGERS. not only do you think it’s weird she doesn’t wash it but, it’s also from eren… now, you know mikasa’s lore, of course. however, it’s really hard to get over your girlfriend having this deep love for this smelly scarf that her ex-crush gave to her after he literally saved her from being kidnapped. at first, you try to ignore it but it gets to a point where you sit down and talk to her but, she is not having it. she clearly cares very, very deeply for this scarf and will defend it. it’s really awkward conversation that slowly turns into raised voices and some opinionated things being raised.

“why are you getting jealous over a scarf? that’s so stupid! i just have fond memories with it!”

✧ connie springer -

again, not so much major arguments but just bickers. it usually starts as a joke but slowly but surely divulges into an argument about something stupid. one time, someone ate the last of jean’s meal that his mum made for him and he saved until today, obviously he was super upset and jokingly you blamed connie. at first, all was well, laughs were being heard and he even poked fun at you but, somewhere along the way it became more serious for you two, you genuinely suspected connie of eating jean’s meal and connie was getting visibly more upset.

“that was so not me! why are you telling them that?! i didn’t eat it, y/n!”

jean regretted asking who ate his food.

✧ jean kirstein -

jean is unfortunately a jealous guy. not for any malicious reasons, he’s just a bit insecure gang! he’s more scared that you’ll leave him for someone ‘better’ more than anything but, these feelings of insecurity manifest as jealously. he’d get jealous over you spending time with people like eren, mikasa or armin. in so many aspects, they’re better than him (in his eyes) and this will just make him reallyyy pissy. being in an argument with jean is painstakingly ambiguous like he never straight up says it, it’s always sly remarks or dry responses from him for a while. eventually, you know something is up and question him but he will avoid answering like the plague and it’s just so, so frustrating! eventually, when you break your calm demeanour, he will also break his ‘nonchalant-ness’ and just shout about how he feels.

he crossed his arms, “i just don’t understand why you need to be around him so much, you have me?”

✧ sasha braus -

absolutely nothing. i’m sorry but, she is too sweet and loving. IM SORRY, i’m sorry… i tried so hard to think of something but this queen is too perfect. at most, she would snap at you in high stress situations but she would never turn it into an argument. for example, if you told her to slow down her eating because you’re going on a mission but, she hasn’t eaten much that day she may snap and tell you to “let her do what she wants” but, she’s sooo quick to recover and apologise. literally not even giving you a second to even think about arguing with her!!

“ah, i’m sorry. you’re right, i don’t wanna be sick while flying through the air, huh?” she pouts.

✧ reiner braun -

you’re both from marley, you know damn well what you’re doing here but it seems reiner is straying off path. you’re there to try and remind him why you’re there and this leads to so many arguments. his split personality also plays a role in the arguments because it’s so.. scary and confusing for you because one moment he’s defending eldians than the next, he’s shouting at you about how he ‘knows the plan’.

when talking about stuff like this, since it’s extra sensitive for reiner he definitely flips out. i’m talking shouting, angry grunting, clenching his fists into balls and holding them against his forehead so he doesn’t fully crash tf out. he’s just as confused and scared as you are about his split personality but, he doesn’t want to seem weak or to seem like he’s losing sight of what is ‘right’ - it gets him really worked up. obviously, you stand your ground against him, he doesn’t scare you when you’re arguing. you’ve known him for so long.. you feel like he just needs to be guided.

“when did i ever say i liked them? yes, they’re okay people to be around for now but— no, i never said that! i know what they are, you don’t remind to tell me, y/n!”

✧ annie leonhart -

just the fact she’s cold and distant, it makes it really hard to actually have a relationship with her. at first, she was closed off COMPLETELY but cracks began to show and eventually, you thought you were at a good point with each other but, you kind of realised you didn’t know that much about annie. you try to ask questions to get her to open up but, she is one tough egg to crack so eventually, you just ask! hoping to help her more than anything but, this leads to an argument…

after this first argument, it became pretty regular like once every few weeks this would happen. you get super frustrated because she acts like she doesn’t even care! so, you’re shouting and getting really passionate while she sits there, looking pissed off and bored, rolling her eyes and scoffing. she doesn’t see the need to open up to you, she’s done what she thinks is ‘enough’ in her books.

“what do you want me to say? i’m not an open book, that’s just how i am. we’re all gonna end up dead, anyways.”

✧ bertolt hoover -

sigh… oh bert. every time you feel yourself developing further into your relationship with bert, his friends seem to pull him back. you’re still not quite sure why and they always seem to be giving side eyes or glances when he talks about his life - its starting to piss you off, rightfully so. you feel like he’s got two other side hoes watching yours and his every move! you being this up in subtle ways as to not seem like a crazy, jealous partner but eventually you burst and tell him how you really feel.

arguing with sweet bert isn’t fun because you can tell he tries so hard to please everyone in the situation, whether it’s you, him or now in this case, his friends too. he will raise his voice but, not in a bad way just in a general sense, things are getting heated, his voice will raise and he will fling his arms and hands. he’s a very expressive man when arguing because he is so passionate about it.

“y/n, they’re my friends! they’re just trying to protect me, why are you jealous?”

✧ erwin smith -

there’s so such things as arguments in your relationship, erwin likes to call them ‘mutual disagreements’ as your both in the scouts, he knows your time is limited. it’s a morbid and pessimistic way to think but, you have to be realistic when you live such a deadly lifestyle. he doesn’t want to take your time together for granted - plus, he’s a MAN like, he is calm and collected and will always hear you out.

you both start off calm, having a mature conversation about whatever it is that is bothering you but, when you start getting rowdier that’s when erwin quells the flames quickly. he takes a deep breath, hears you out and calmly walks you through it all. he’s so compassionate about it, i cant omg. he’ll gently place a hand over your own hand or on your shoulder if you’re standing, letting you know he’s present, he’ll sweetly talk you down, eventually calming you down and usually you’ll both say apologises or just general sweet statements and move on!

“i’m sorry, y/n. no, i’m glad you talked to me about this.”

✧ levi ackerman -

oh lord, being in an argument with levi ackerman is nawwtt fun. i’m sorry but, i’d kms if i argued with levi 😭. this man has such an awful resting bitch face as it is but, imagine his face when he’s arguing with you? IF LOOKS COULD KILL. he cant hide his emotions, so when you’re arguing even if he’s trying to be somewhat nice, his face says it all. usually he’ll roll his eyes and scoff if it’s something minor, he’ll hear you out, maybe give a half arsed apology or some sort of nice gesture to make sure you’re not upset however, if it’s a big issue oh brother…

silent treatment, i fear. he is so bad at communicating his feels correctly and often feels confused because this mf ain’t been in love before?! it gets too a point where he’s so mad, he just cant even begin to think of anything to say to you. you’ll be there raising your voice, becoming so passionate and when you ask what he thinks, he’ll say “i have nothing to say.” then boom, silent treatment. however, he’s bad with his words… but good with his actions. he still wants you to know he cares, you two could be in the most rancid moods but, you’ll go to your room and find your clothes ironed and folded🥲.

✧ hange zoë -

oh my sweet hange, my probably neurological challenged sweet hange… an argument with them would definitely stem from them spending more time with titans than you. when sawney and bean were around, you weren’t getting ANY time of day with them, trust. at first, you didn’t want to say anything because of course, you understand! the lifetime you guys are living in, things like hange’s research is soo important but, you can’t help but feel neglected sometimes.

when you finally bring it up, an argument ensues. neither of you really shout or anything, it’s just that kind of weird sort of raised, high pitched voice people get when you’re really frustrated. you both stay relatively calm for the situation you’re in but, you can totally tell you’re both so frustrated because hange just doesn’t see the problem. when you guys argue like this, it usually just goes in circles and after a while you both decide to mutually give up and leave it for another day.

“it’s all for science and the greater good of humanity though, i don’t understand?”

[dorabellingham]

Drunk Call

warning: alcoholic beverages, being unconscious

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you call him in the middle of the night because you haven't gotten over the breakup

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a silent night in Madrid and Jude was sitting on the sofa in his apartment, his eyes fixed on the television, but not really paying attention to what was playing. His mind was somewhere else, or rather, with someone else. You. Since the breakup, things had never been the same for him. He knew he needed to move on, but how? When everything around him seemed to have your memories embedded in it? The sound of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the screen. It was you. His hand hesitated for a moment before answering, his heart pounding in his chest.

—Y/n?

His voice came out cautious, almost fearful.

—Jude... —Your tone was slurred, tearful, unmistakably drunk. —Please, don’t hang up.

He sat up straighter, a wave of worry taking over him.

—Y/n, what’s going on? Are you okay?

—No... —You sobbed, and he felt the lump in his throat tighten. —I... I'm horrible. I can't do this anymore. I can't live without you, Jude.

His heart sank. He wanted to tell you that he felt the same way, that every day without you was a constant struggle. But he knew you weren't in the right state to hear that right now.

—Where are you?

He asked, trying to stay calm.

—At home... —You laughed humorlessly. —Alone, as always. Honey... can you come? I know I shouldn't ask this, but...

He was already grabbing the keys before you could even finish.

—Stay there, okay? I'm going.

When Jude got to your apartment, the door was already unlocked, which only increased his concern. He walked in and found you sitting on the floor in the living room, holding a half-empty bottle of wine and with your eyes red from crying so much.

—Y/n...

He approached slowly, kneeling in front of you.

You looked at him, your eyes watering, and suddenly started laughing.

—You came. I can't believe you came.

—Of course I did. —He put the bottle aside and held your face in his hands. —What's happening to you?

You shook your head, tears starting to flow again.

—I'm broken, Jude. I know I was the one who broke up, but... I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't know it would hurt so much.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your words.

—Sweetie, you're drunk. We should talk about this when you're better.

—No! —You held onto his shirt, almost as if you were afraid he would disappear. —I need to say this now. Jude, I love you. I've always loved you, and I was an idiot for thinking I could live without you.

Your words hit him like a punch to the chest. He loved you. He always had. And hearing it from you now, even in that state, made everything inside him want to scream that he felt the same way.

—Y/n...

He started, but you interrupted.

—You can hate me. You can ignore me tomorrow. But today, Jude, please, just hold me.

He couldn't resist. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight, as if he could protect you from all the pain you were feeling. You cried against his chest, sobbing, as he ran his hand through your hair.

—I never hated you. —He whispered. —Not for a second.

You pulled away just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with a mix of sadness and hope.

—Then stay... just for today.

Jude nodded, unable to deny you anything at that moment. He helped you up and took you to the bedroom, where you lay down, still holding his hand as if it was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

—Will you be here when I wake up?

You asked, your voice trembling, before closing your eyes.

He squeezed your hand gently, feeling a new wave of emotions rise within him.

—I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. I promise.

And that night, as you slept, he stayed by your side, watching you, fighting his own demons and wondering if, perhaps, you could still have a future together.

part 2?

[bondagebimbo]

please help. I want to get this kid some extensions and have them dyed to match her hair asap because she’s feeling so shitty about herself.

ANY amount helps. I just want her to feel as okay as possible again. I’m still so incredibly angry about this.

if you can spare anything to help a 12 year old girl not absolutely hate herself and have constant meltdowns because she has no security blanket to hide behind anymore when she’s overstimulated and shutting down, we’d both be eternally grateful.

she doesn’t know I’m doing this for her. I told my mother to keep it a secret but wanted to let her in on my plan.

please help me get this kid back to feeling as good as she possibly can again. I’m begging you. I’m so desperate and I feel so worthless being unable to help her right now when that’s all I want to do. the poor kid doesn’t even want to go back to school anymore, she’s so traumatized and upset by everything.

help me perk her up with some extensions, please. she deserves it. she made the honor roll again last marking period (she does every marking period, she’s smart as hell) and she doesn’t deserve to be feeling like this after accomplishing that.

please help at the cashapp link above. if you don’t have cashapp but use PayPal, send an ask off anon for it if we aren’t moots or send me a DM and I’ll give you the link.

please. I just want this kid to not be spiraling as hard as she is over this. her hair was her pride and joy and I just want to try and give her some of that security back.

please, please help or share, at the least. thank you. <3

I’m genuinely about to go square up with some fuckhead ass kids because my mother just informed me that they have not only once, but TWICE cut my youngest sister’s hair without her consent or knowledge.

the first time was in April and they cut like 6 inches off a random spot of her hair.

and yesterday, they cut fucking 14ish inches off because she started wearing her hair in a braid so no one could cut chunks out of it as easily so they just cut the whole fucking braid off.

I’m going to fucking kill them, who the fuck made them think this is an acceptable way to act and fucking treat someone. deadass going to go fight some fucking high schoolers over this, I swear to god.

kids are so fucking fucked up these days, I’m so beyond angry. she’s so fucking upset and distraught and nothing can be done about it. that hair is just gone. I feel so fucking sad and angry just on her behalf. why are kids so fucking cruel, she didn’t deserve that

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 7 Infamous Lover

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 6.5k

Chapter 7/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Some things are set into motion in this chapter.

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

It was an unusual morning for the two of you. Natasha stood in your kitchen, looking more at ease than you felt. Her mug was half-empty, cradled in her hands, while yours sat untouched on the counter before you, its steam curling upward in lazy spirals. The silence was deafening as you tried to process what Natasha told you. Isabella was still asleep in the other room.

Allowing Natasha to stay over had been a line you weren’t ready to cross, but the look on her face last night—the heartbreak she tried so hard to hide—left you with no choice.

You cared about her more than you could put into words, which made this more complicated. You didn’t want to be angry, but the way she’d shown up, raw and vulnerable, with a piece of her past you didn’t know how to navigate, was testing your patience.

Natasha broke the silence first. “I’m sorry for showing up like that. I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”

"Don't apologize for coming to me," You shook your head. You checked the time on the stove clock. 8 am. Neither of you had gotten much sleep. Isabella would be up soon, but she'd have many questions and comments. To feel like you had a handle on the situation, you began to make breakfast. Something simple. French toast and eggs. "It's just, I don't understand why she would call you, of all people."

"I don't hate her..." Natasha began. Then she stopped. Those weren't the right words. She set her mug down and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not what you think.”

You paused, spatula hovering over the skillet. Your tone was even when you spoke, and it wasn't as hard as before. "Then explain it to me. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she still has a hold on you."

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “She called me out of nowhere, drunk, stranded... I didn’t want to leave her like that. It sounds stupid, but I felt I had to help.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you said firmly. “She’s not your responsibility anymore, Natasha. You don’t owe her anything.”

“I know,” Natasha replied quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor. “But it’s hard. Carol... she was a big part of my life for a long time. Walking away from that hasn’t been easy.”

You softened at her admission, the frustration in your chest giving way to something more tender. “I get that,” you said after a moment. “But you’ve got to figure out what you want, Nat. You can’t keep one foot in the past and expect the future to wait for you.”

She glanced up, green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the vulnerability in them. You weren't sure what else to say, but before you could come up with something, Natasha closed the distance between you and gently cupped your cheek. You held your breath as she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours.

"I want you," she whispered, her words feathering against your lips. "I'm trying. I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to screw us up."

"Then don't," You muttered. "If this isn't what you want. If there's even a chance you want her, then you need to be upfront with me. If this is just sex for you..."

"It's not," Natasha said firmly, her eyes flashing with something fierce and protective. "It's never been like that. You know that."

"Do I?" You asked. "I'm trying to be levelheaded. You tell me your ex calls, and you go running."

"Not like that," Natasha sighed.

"You went to her," You pointed out.

"Because she was alone, drunk, and in trouble," Natasha shook her head. "I wouldn't have stayed. I just... wanted to make sure she was okay. That's all."

"Did she try to kiss you?"

"What? No," Natasha snorted, shaking her head. "God, no. She was drunk. Really, really drunk."

"So, nothing happened," you asked.

"Nothing," Natasha nodded.

"Okay," You nodded slowly.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," you said, returning to the stove and plating the food you'd made.

Natasha hesitated, then slid her arms around your waist, pressing her front to your back and resting her chin on your shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. "I promise."

You hummed, leaning into her warmth. The knot in your stomach loosened, but it didn't completely disappear.

"I trust you," You nodded to yourself. It wasn't something you had to convince yourself to believe. She came to you. She told you the truth.

"That's good," Natasha nodded, a relieved smile gracing her face. She kissed the side of your head and then your neck.

"Mm, what are you doing?" You asked.

"Nothing," Natasha smirked.

"That doesn't feel like nothing," you teased, a hint of a smile on your lips.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but a small voice interrupted.

"What are we talking about?" Isabella yawned, shuffling into the kitchen with messy hair and sleep-heavy eyes.

"Nothing," you and Natasha said in unison, the words tumbling too quickly to sound convincing.

"Whatever," Isabella rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, as she climbed onto one of the kitchen stools. Her gaze shifted to Natasha, and she grinned. "Natasha, you're here."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded, taking a small step back from where she'd been standing close to you. She looked unsure, her hand brushing awkwardly against the counter. You understood the hesitation—it was a delicate situation, having her here when things between the three of you were still so new.

But Isabella didn't seem to share your reservations.

"Good," Isabella chirped, swinging her legs under the stool. "I was wondering when Mama would let you come."

Your cheeks flushed. "Bella," you said, trying to keep your tone even.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I like her. You do, too, right?"

Natasha stifled a chuckle, and you shot her a look.

"Natasha's just visiting," you said, redirecting the conversation.

"Sure," Isabella said with a sly grin, clearly not buying it. She turned her attention to Natasha. "Anyway, Mama, could you do my hair today? In a different style? Something that isn't babyish."

"You are a baby," You pointed out as you slid her a plate of French toast and fresh fruit.

Isabella rolled her eyes again. "I'm almost ten, Mama."

"Still a baby," You stepped around the counter to wrap her in your arms. "My one and only baby."

Isabella squirmed away, giggling. "Mama," she whined. "Stop. You're embarrassing me in front of company."

"Sorry," you apologized, smiling at Natasha, who was watching the scene with amusement. "Old habits die hard. I'll think of something to do to your hair. Eat your breakfast now, and we can walk the dog."

"Yay!" Isabella cheered.

Natasha's hand found yours, her fingers entwining with yours and squeezing lightly.

"We?" Natasha asked softly.

"Yeah," You nodded.

Natasha gave you a soft smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made your knees weak. You were falling for her, and there was no stopping it.

********

A part of you was glad Isabella was talking to Natasha. The other part was concerned. There were still things you needed to talk about that you hadn't figured out yet. And this whole Carol situation last night had left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't like the idea of her and Carol reconnecting. Not when it meant Natasha was spending time with someone who had hurt her before. Especially when that someone was her ex, especially when that someone was Carol Danvers, you didn't hate the girl. You barely knew her. Simply hearing of her reputation was enough for you.

You didn't want to get too in your head. Not as you were walking with Isabella and Natasha around the neighborhood.

"I'm in intermediate-level gymnastics," Isabella explained to Natasha. She held loosely onto Bear's leash as the dog pulled her over to a random bush. He really was a good walker most of the time.

"That's pretty cool," Natasha grinned, her hand holding yours. "How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was six," Isabella boasted.

"She's pretty good," You added. "Gymnastics, ballet, and dance. She's the busiest kid I know."

"It's fun," Isabella smiled. "Keeps the mind going and the body healthy. Did you play sports as a kid?"

"I did ballet," Natasha admitted."Yeah, it was a long time ago."

"Did you like it?"

"I did," Natasha nodded. "I was good at it, too."

"Were you any good?" Isabella asked.

"Kind of," Natasha chuckled. "It was a long time ago."

"When did you stop?"

"Well, I didn't quit," Natasha explained. "I got older, and my body changed. The type of moves they have us do can be hard on the body."

"Oh," Isabella nodded, a little less cheerful. "So, did you ever hurt yourself?"

"Not seriously, no," Natasha shrugged.

"That's good," Isabella sighed, relieved. "I hurt myself last year. A twisted ankle."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded.

"I cried because it hurt," Isabella continued.

"Of course, it did," You smiled. "We'd take a break until you were feeling better. Then you were back at it."

"Yeah," Isabella sighed. "Rookie mistakes."

"You could say that," You grinned.

"Are you busy on Wednesday, Natasha?" You could see by the smile in her eyes that Isabella was about to ask her something without your permission.

"Wednesday? What’s on your mind?"

Isabella's face lit up with a mischievous grin, her eyes darting toward you briefly before returning to Natasha. "We have this recital rehearsal, and we get to bring a helper for some of the moves. Can you come?"

You groaned internally, already anticipating how this was going to play out. "Bella, we talked about this. You’re supposed to ask me before inviting someone."

"I know," she said innocently, twirling a strand of her hair. "But Natasha’s really strong. She’d be great for the lifts!"

Natasha glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Lifts, huh?"

"It’s true!" Isabella insisted. "And besides, you said you used to dance. You’ll understand better than Mama. No offense," she added quickly, glancing your way.

"None taken," you muttered, trying not to roll your eyes.

Natasha seemed thoughtful for a moment. "When is it? I could probably stop by," she said, looking at you for permission.

"Great!" Isabella cheered, jumping up and down. "It starts at four on Wednesday, and we can pick you up."

"Or you can meet us there," you suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Isabella said, waving her hand dismissively. "Can we go to the park now? Pleeeease?"

"I think we can manage," You said, reaching out and taking Bear's leash. The dog had been patiently waiting during your conversation. You didn't think he'd wander off but didn't want to risk it.

"Yes!" Isabella cheered, throwing her hands up.

"Actually, I have a studio session now," Natasha checked her phone. "I'm pretty late, and Wanda's going to kill me."

"Oh, well, do you want us to walk to the house with you?"

"No, I have my car keys," Natasha denied. "I'll find my way."

"Oh, well, okay," You nodded. Isabella gestured for you to kiss her goodbye. You rolled your eyes at your kid and pulled Natasha down the sidewalk out of earshot. "So, I'll talk to you later?"

"You bet," Natasha nodded. She pressed her lips to yours, giving you a sweet, tender kiss. You leaned into it, savoring the taste of her and the feel of her. You'd never get tired of this.

"Okay," You whispered as you broke the kiss.

"Okay," She smiled, squeezing your hand. "Bye, Isabella."

"Bye, Natasha," Isabella called.

"See you, little one," Natasha smiled, winking at her before leaving.

You watched her walk away, admiring the view. It wasn't until she disappeared around the corner that you rejoined your daughter.

"You're in looove," Isabella teased.

"Maybe," You smirked.

"You should totally marry her," Isabella commented.

"Oh, should I?" You asked. "It hasn't even been that long."

"When you know, you know," Isabella said sagely.

"That's very true," You nodded.

"She makes you happy, right?"

"She does," You agreed.

"And I like her." Isabella listed. "You should totally marry her."

"How about we take things slow, okay?" You chuckled. "Let's see how things go."

"Whatever," Isabella giggled.

"What's with you and this whatever thing?" You wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Isabella shrugged dramatically, leaning into your side. "It’s just a vibe, Mama. You know, like, whatever happens, happens."

You couldn’t help but laugh at her sass. "I don’t know about you, but you’re too young to drop wisdom like that."

She grinned mischievously. "Maybe, but someone’s got to keep you in check."

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you hugged her tighter. "I think I’m the one who needs to be keeping you in check."

Isabella hummed, content to let you have the last word for now.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the morning together, laughing and playing and making up silly songs.

******

When Natasha arrived at the studio session, initially, she didn't know what to write. She'd had a list of songs in her black book that she knew she wanted to lay out. But for the last hour, she'd been staring at the blank sheet, her pencil hovering uselessly over the staff.

"Are you writing?" Wanda asked.

"I am," Natasha nodded.

"Then why aren't we recording?"

"Just... a little writer's block," Natasha said.

"Writer's block?" Wanda repeated. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"I do, but..." She shook her head. "I try not to write such personal things. I have a melody and a couple of lyrics in my head, but I don't know if I should do it."

"Becuase you're in a love triangle?" Wanda guessed.

"No, it's not even a love triangle," Nataha shut her book. "It's not even a love anything. Carol is my ex. I blocked her number. Y/n is my now."

"So why the blockage?" Wanda asked.

Natasha paused momentarily, trying to figure out what was holding her back. Her heart told her to write, but her head told her to be smart.

"It's not like I haven't written love songs before," Natasha started.

"But these are about Y/n," Wanda nodded. "And Carol. I get it."

"Carol was a long time ago. What we had... it wasn't good. We didn't end things on good terms. Y/n, on the other hand, is something I want to try. Someone that means something to me."

"Then write about it," Wanda shrugged.

"I just don't know if I should," Natasha said. "Writing a song about Carol? Fine. We weren't happy. But Y/n. She's someone special. If I write about her and it doesn't work out..."

"You can't live your life worried about the what-ifs," Wanda pointed out. "If you want this relationship and're serious about her, then you must be willing to put yourself out there. That's what people do. They take risks. They have faith in one another. It's a leap of faith."

"When did you become a philosopher?" Natasha teased.

"I'm not," Wanda chuckled. "I just think you're overthinking it. Write the damn song, Natasha. Or I will."

Natasha opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. "Okay, it starts like this..."

"I love her, I want her, but my heart cannot recover,

Stuck in a whirlwind, won’t you get me out?

Fading in and out of what we were before,

But I'm losing me when I keep begging for more."

Natasha sat back, tapping the pen against the notebook's edge as she let the words flow through her mind. Wanda watched her carefully, a knowing smile on her face. Natasha had always been cautious, especially regarding matters of the heart, and Wanda had seen it enough times to recognize the hesitation.

"You know," Wanda began, leaning forward, "that song is pretty powerful already. The emotions are raw. You don't have to have everything figured out right now. Sometimes, you just need to let the music do the talking."

Natasha nodded, eyes still focused on the page, her mind racing with the thoughts of Carol and you of the past and the present. The confusion between what she'd been through and what she now had with you. It wasn't easy, but it felt right.

"You’re right," Natasha finally admitted, her voice softer. "I just... I don't want to mess things up with Y/n. She’s different, Wanda. She’s... real."

Wanda reached over and squeezed her hand, her expression gentle. "I know, and that's a good thing. It's a sign that things are changing for the better. Take it one day at a time, and don't overthink it."

"That's easier said than done," Natasha sighed.

"True," Wanda chuckled. "But I'm always here for you, even if it means reminding you not to be so damn stubborn all the time. Now, let's write some more of this song."

Natasha grinned, picking up the pen and turning back to the page, her fingers already itching to start composing. "You know, I'm glad we decided to work on this project. It's been a long time coming."

"Me too," Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up. "And hey, we might actually finish something. We recorded three songs with the guys. If we finish this and like it...we might actually be getting somewhere with the album."

"Don't jinx it," Natasha laughed. "But I wouldn't mind recording more. Especially with this."

"Yeah, yeah," Wanda waved her hand. "Let's just get this song finished. Then we can talk about the next one."

"Deal."

As they worked, the two women found themselves in a comfortable rhythm. The back and forth between them was familiar, and they quickly lost track of time. The song began to come together, and Natasha found herself getting more and more excited. This was the kind of music she wanted to be making—deep, soulful, real.

They spent the rest of the day working on the song, taking breaks only to eat or use the bathroom. When they finally called it a day, both women were exhausted but pleased with their progress.

"Okay, now for the next one," she said with a knowing grin.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Another one already? You don’t waste any time."

Wanda chuckled. "What can I say? We’re on fire. So, I thought… maybe we should try something different for the next single."

Natasha tilted her head in interest. "Different? How?"

"I’m thinking we stick to the punk vibe, but… I want to experiment with something soulful, a voice that's a little outside of our usual sound." Wanda's eyes sparkled with the excitement of the idea. "I was thinking Y/n could be a good fit for it."

"Y/n? As in, my girlfriend?"

"Yes, and my friend," Wanda nodded.

"You think she could do it?" Natasha asked, her chest warming at the mention of the you.

"Yeah, absolutely. She's got a great voice, and her lyrics are killer. Plus, she's not afraid to be vulnerable. That's the kind of emotion we're going for. What do you think?" Wanda began to pack up her things.

"I think it's a big ask," Natasha said. She sighed, her thoughts racing. "I guess I get the appeal. It’s just… Y/n's got her own sound. I don’t want to pull her into something that’s not authentic to her. Plus, she doesn't sing anymore."

"I get it, and I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't think she was right for the song. I've heard her sing before. She's got the range and the passion." Wanda looked at Natasha, her expression serious. "It's worth a shot. Maybe if she hears the song, she'll feel inspired to sing again."

"Maybe," Natasha said, though she wasn't sure. The thought of you singing again filled her with hope, but she didn't want to get her expectations too high. You'd clarified that singing wasn't part of your life anymore. Still, the idea of having you collaborate with them was intriguing. "Okay, I'll bring it up with her. But no promises."

"Fair enough," Wanda nodded. "I'll let you take the lead. Just don't wait too long. I think it could be a game-changer for us."

Natasha gave her a skeptical look. "A game-changer? Isn't that a bit much?"

Wanda shook her head. "Nah, not when it's true. Besides, the world could always use more soulful artists. It's a win-win."

"All right," Natasha relented. "I'll talk to her."

"Great," Wanda smiled. "I'll see you later."

"Bye, Wanda," Natasha said, waving her off. She had a lot to think about.

The question was, where did you stand on all of this?

[halfwayhearted]

Maps — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Noticing the not-so-subtle stares of the man you wanted but couldn’t have was something you despised.

Word Count: 775+

Disclaimer/s — Slight angst-ish… argument, that’s it.

A/N: The idea I originally had for this like, left my mind in the middle of writing so the ending is so ohr… rushed… hey. Hey!

Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Did he want you? Did he not? It was like holding a flower and delicately picking off the petals, playing the game of ‘he loves me,’ ‘he loves me not.’ It was tiring.

You didn’t know, nor could you tell. It was enough to make you lose it. Spending seconds, minutes, and hours on the situation only to push it aside. Telling yourself not to keep this going. But how could you do that when he always made you feel like you could actually mean something to him?

It pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

What pissed you off even more was the fact that Jobe was staring at you from across the room, his fingers running over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed while the guy you were speaking to let out a laugh at something you had said. Seriously?

You told yourself that you were fine, you could do this. Don’t let him get to you. He wasn’t worth it.

Maybe you would have listened to your own advice if the man in front of you hadn’t stiffened and asked, “You know who that is over there?”

Already knowing who he was referring to, you refrain from sighing and instead excuse yourself. Wasting no time, you stride toward the man who slowly smirks up at you. Oh, you hated him.

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish?” You snap, your gaze never leaving his even when he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not trying to ‘accomplish’ anything.” Oh boy, he was insufferable! You couldn’t stand him at all.

Yet you still couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away when he gently grasps your forearms and guides you to a secluded area outside, thinking it was because your voice was raising and he didn’t want anyone to focus their attention on the both of you.

The second you’re aware that it’s just the two of you, you inhale sharply. “If you think you can just ghost me for days on end and then stare at anybody who’s even an inch in my vicinity the way you’re staring, then you’re wrong,” you snap, hands clenching. “Is it really that hard to make up your mind? I don’t—I don’t get you at all, Jobe!”

When he opens his mouth to speak, you quickly continue, “I will not wait for someone who doesn’t know what or who they want. I just won’t.”

After a few seconds pass, Jobe just simply stares at you, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, as if he’s contemplating how to handle the situation.

“Of course,” you scoff. “Whatever—I’m done.” Turning around, you’re about to walk away when he lets out a sigh and tugs you back toward him, making you roll your eyes and take a step back.

The man wets his lips, “I do know what I want.”

“Do you? Then tell me, what is it that you want?”

“You,” he responds almost instantly, making you suck in a breath. But you won’t give in that easily.

“Your way of showing it could use a little work.”

Taking a step toward you, he speaks once again, “Listen—I was… stupid before. I’m sure now.”

“You say you can’t be with me. Then you say that you won’t be able to be with me. Now I’m who you want? I don’t need you playing in my face.”

How did he go about this? You wouldn’t believe him. Rightfully so. Now that he was finally here and able to admit how he felt, he couldn’t help but feel that he was too late. Was he too late?

“What can I do?” He questions, his tone of voice quiet and soft. “Tell me what I can do; I’ll do it.”

Your eyes narrow. He was telling the truth, indeed he was. It didn’t even matter to you. Not anymore.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, but his next words changed your mind in an instant: “Will you have dinner with me? Let me just prove it to you.”

Let me prove it to you. All the resolve you had mustered up disintegrated into thin air and you found yourself letting out a sigh, “One dinner.”

“One dinner?” He echoes. “That’s—okay. Deal.”

Right, deal. You give Jobe one last look before walking past him. Once he’s alone, he starts coming up with different plans for your dinner. This is his one chance to prove to you that he’s, well, sorry and that you’re the one he wants.

And the man will make sure to prove both to you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[ganondoodle]

honestly i dont know how many times i can keep trying to like and engage with things if they always end up disappointing me so badly i cant like what came before it anymore

im not trying to center this around me or something, but im having a hard time coping with arcane doing it too (to me)

few things can catch my attention and all interests in media i have ever had fumbled everything later so badly i often never want to see or think about it again

its happened with transformers (prime specifically, i think the ending of season2? i dont remember everything but after the fucking new guys show up and it killed my hyperfixation on it back in the day), one piece (stopped since whole cake island and anything new i see of it only makes it more clear i cant stand it anymore), zelda (ahah .. totk, fuck that game, basically killed my hyperfixation on the franchise and im only holding on for some projects and cool people i met through it), (edit; how could i forget fromsoft/elden ring and what the DLC did.....), arcane/league (arcane, lore retcons, and now its ending, but it happened before it turned into a hyperfixation so theres that bit of mercy lol) and those were only my super special hyperfixation ones i still clearly remember im sure im forgetting some, its happened with movies and other series i gave a try too (even mob psycho ... the series i thought couldnt disappoint me ...)

i feel so bad about it, i feel like i am somehow wrong to dislike or even hate how media goes, and bc it happens every time i feel like .. theres something wrong with me .. theres gotta be soemthing wrong with me right?.. i SWEAR i do NOT find joy in hating or disliking things, it is not fun for me, i hate hating things, especially when i once loved them, even if it may seem like there is nothing i can ever like i am NOT doign it on purpose, i feel the same, i feel like theres nothing i can ever just like, and i hate myself for it .. but also cant help it, i cant force myself to like thingsi dont either, i just want to rip my hair out and cry

[insomniac4000]

61 George clarke

is that mine?- George Clarke

The aroma of coffee filled Arthur’s flat as his sister Daisy stood by the counter, scrolling on her phone. She was supposed to be on holiday, but Daisy rarely rested. Arthur had invited her to stay for a few days, partly to get her out of her usual routine and partly to keep her from overthinking.

“Can you not use my French press like a battering ram?” Arthur muttered, walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine,” Daisy quipped with a smirk. “Did you forget I’m your guest, or should I start paying rent?”

“Just don’t break anything,” Arthur shot back, rolling his eyes.

It was one of those casual mornings where everyone had their own plan for the day. Arthur had mentioned George and Chris were popping by later, which Daisy had greeted with mock excitement.

George Clarkey had been the source of many jokes over the years. He was always polite and friendly around Daisy, but the running gag about his not-so-subtle crush on her had become a staple of their conversations. Arthur, for his part, hated it.

“Don’t you dare embarrass me today,” Arthur had warned earlier, pointing at her.

“Me? Embarrass you?” Daisy had replied, feigning innocence. “I’m a delight.”

Now, hours later, Arthur was out for an impromptu shoot with Italian Bach and Chris, leaving Daisy to relax. George had a key to Arthur’s flat — for reasons Daisy didn’t quite understand — and she knew he’d likely turn up sooner or later.

The weather had taken a chilly turn, and Daisy, despite her bravado, wasn’t immune to the cold. After rummaging through Arthur’s limited supply of blankets and failing to find anything warm enough, she’d spotted a hoodie slung over the back of the sofa. She pulled it on without thinking.

It was oversized on her, soft and familiar, and it smelled faintly like aftershave. Only when she looked in the mirror did she realize it wasn’t Arthur’s — it was George’s.

“Perfect,” she murmured to herself with a grin, fully aware of how much this would irritate her brother.

The door opened a little later, and George walked in, holding a bag of snacks and a bottle of wine. He was wearing his usual cheeky grin, but it faltered slightly when his eyes landed on Daisy.

“Is that… mine?” he asked, pointing to the hoodie.

Daisy looked down at herself, feigning surprise. “Oh, is it? Sorry, I got cold.”

George raised an eyebrow, setting the snacks on the counter. “And the dozens of other options weren’t good enough?”

She shrugged, giving him an innocent smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What can I say? It looked warm.”

George smirked, his tone light but curious. “Right. Warm. Definitely not trying to wind up your brother or anything.”

“Why, is it working?” Daisy teased, pulling the hoodie’s sleeves over her hands.

George laughed, leaning against the counter as he watched her. “You know, I don’t even think you’re doing it for Arthur anymore.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice lilting with mock offense.

“I think you like annoying me more than him,” he replied, his grin widening.

Daisy tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re not wrong. But maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”

George felt his cheeks flush but tried to play it cool. “Well, mission accomplished. You look ridiculous in that hoodie, by the way.”

“Rude,” Daisy shot back, but she was smiling now, and the banter felt natural. They had always joked around like this, but something about today felt different.

“So,” George said after a moment, his tone softer. “What’s the real reason you’re still here?”

“Arthur invited me,” Daisy said, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “He thinks I work too hard and needed a break. He’s not wrong, I guess.”

George nodded, leaning closer. “You do seem a bit… tired. Everything okay?”

Daisy hesitated, surprised by the concern in his voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… life, you know?”

He nodded again, his gaze lingering on her. “If you ever want to talk…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They were close now, almost too close. Daisy looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching his face for something she wasn’t sure of.

“You know,” she said softly, “Arthur would absolutely lose it if he saw us right now.”

“Yeah,” George agreed, his voice equally quiet. “But Arthur isn’t here.”

Daisy smiled, and before either of them could second-guess themselves, she leaned up and kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried or awkward; it was gentle and warm, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. George kissed her back, his hands finding her waist, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

When they pulled apart, Daisy was the first to speak. “Well… that escalated.”

“Yeah,” George said, his face breaking into a grin. “But I’m not complaining.”

Daisy laughed, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Good. Because I’m keeping this.”

“Oh, you think so?” George teased, his confidence returning.

“I know so,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

They both knew Arthur would be furious when he found out — but for now, they didn’t care.

[dissapointu]

“Faulty Wiring” sevika x reader

The first time Sevika darkened the doorway to your workshop, you thought she was there to intimidate you.

The dim light behind her only heightened her imposing presence: tall, broad-shouldered, her prosthetic arm sparking faintly as she leaned against the frame. She scowled, not at you specifically, but at the world in general.

“You’re the tech Silco sent for?” Her voice was low and gravelly, her words clipped.

You nodded, gesturing toward the workbench. “That’s me. I hear your arm’s acting up?”

Sevika grunted, stepping inside. “Keeps seizing up mid-swing. Useless in a fight.”

The sparks popping from her shoulder joint painted a grim picture. You set to work without delay, trying to push past the nervous flutter in your chest. Sevika’s presence was overwhelming—everything about her screamed danger—but there was something about the way her gaze lingered on your hands as you adjusted the wiring that made you wonder if there was more beneath the surface.

Over the next few months, Sevika became a regular in your workshop.

It wasn’t that her arm was particularly faulty; it was that she pushed it to its limits, testing every weld and circuit with her relentless lifestyle. Silco’s enforcer didn’t take breaks. She didn’t show weakness, at least not outwardly.

“Does this hurt?” you asked one night, prodding the exposed joint where metal met flesh.

Sevika gritted her teeth but shook her head. “Pain’s just noise.”

You frowned. “Still, I can adjust the connection to make it less—”

“Don’t bother,” she interrupted, her tone sharp. “I need this arm to fight, not to feel comfortable.”

You sighed but didn’t argue. Sevika wasn’t the type to let anyone take care of her, even if it was your job.

The Cracks Begin to Show

Sevika never talked about what she did outside the workshop, but the signs were hard to miss. She’d show up with blood on her clothes or bruises blooming across her skin. Her jaw was always tight, her shoulders tense.

“You’re going to burn yourself out,” you said one night as you replaced a damaged gear in her elbow joint.

Sevika scoffed, lighting a cigar with her flesh hand. “Worry about the arm, not me.”

You set down your tools, staring at her. “I am worrying about you, Sevika. You can’t keep this up forever.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, hard and unyielding. “I don’t have a choice.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d shut you down, but something about the way she said it—like she truly believed it—stung. You wanted to press further, but you knew Sevika well enough by now: push too hard, and she’d disappear for weeks.

The rift between you began subtly, like a loose bolt slowly working its way free. Sevika started showing up less frequently, her arm in worse condition each time. When she did visit, she was quieter, more withdrawn.

One night, after a particularly brutal repair session, you finally worked up the courage to ask, “What’s going on with you?”

Sevika didn’t look at you. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that,” you said, exasperated. “Your arm is falling apart because you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re barely talking to me anymore. Just—talk to me, Sevika.”

She finally met your gaze, her expression unreadable. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you said softly.

For a moment, you thought she might open up. But then her jaw tightened, and she shook her head. “It’s not your problem.”

Her words felt like a slap. You tried to hide the hurt in your eyes, but Sevika saw it. She just didn’t do anything about it.

The next time Sevika came to your workshop, she wasn’t alone.

A young recruit followed her in, wide-eyed and fidgeting nervously. “This is Kess,” Sevika said gruffly. “She’s taking over.”

You froze, your tools clattering to the floor. “What?”

“I need someone I can rely on,” Sevika said, avoiding your gaze. “Someone who doesn’t get… attached.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell.

“So that’s it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re replacing me?”

“It’s not personal,” Sevika said, but the tension in her voice betrayed her.

“It feels pretty damn personal,” you snapped, your chest tightening.

Sevika didn’t respond. She just turned and walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of your workshop with nothing but the sound of the recruit’s awkward shuffling to fill the silence.

You didn’t see Sevika for weeks after that.

Your workshop felt empty without her presence, and though you tried to focus on other projects, your thoughts always wandered back to her. What had you done wrong? Why had she pushed you away?

One night, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Sevika standing there, her arm sparking and her eyes bloodshot.

“I need your help,” she said, her voice hoarse.

You wanted to slam the door in her face, but the vulnerability in her expression stopped you. Without a word, you stepped aside and let her in.

As you worked on her arm, Sevika sat silently, her shoulders slumped.

“Why did you leave?” you finally asked, unable to keep the question bottled up any longer.

Sevika exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Because I can’t afford distractions.”

“Distractions?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief. “Is that what I was to you?”

“No,” she said quickly, her gaze snapping to yours. “You’re… more than that. And that’s the problem.”

You stared at her, stunned. “I don’t understand.”

Sevika looked away, her jaw tightening. “I can’t afford to care about someone. Not in this line of work. It’s dangerous. For both of us.”

The weight of her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You think pushing me away is going to protect me?”

“It’s the only way I know how,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, you spoke.

“Sevika, you don’t get to make that decision for me,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I care about you, and I know you care about me too. So stop running.”

Sevika’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in her armor. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” you said softly.

Sevika didn’t respond with words. Instead, she reached out, her flesh hand brushing against yours. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

[stilljuststardust]

Hello Stardust, I hope you're doing well! I've been debating over this certain thing I've read about LOA (multiple times) so I was wondering if you could help me.

I've seen all kinds of posts from LOA blogs that say that the reason you have to persist is to get your desire in the 3D and that the 3D can be difficult at times, but that you just have to return to the 4D where you already have it and remind yourself that your desire will come in the 3D.

I've also seen posts were it says that you must feel like you already have it and that there is no waiting.

Maybe I'm not understanding it well, but it seems contradicting to me.

Can I know that I have it in the 4D already and that there is no waiting there, but because I can't (and shouldn't) deny what my 3D is (which is normal and fine from what I know about LOA), can I have it in my head that it is coming in the 3D even tho I shouldn't be waiting? I feel like the only thing that I have to know is that the most important thing is the 4D and that it is the real reality and that I have it there already, but when it comes to the 3D I feel like I have no other choice than to be aware of how it is and still hope that it changes, but now, since I am persisting, with much more confidence in that hope/I know that it will change.

From what I think it means-you have to know that the 4D is the real reality and that you already have it in the 4D, but when it comes to the 3D you are aware of how it is, but you know that it will change if you keep persisting and you don't get too uspet by it because you know it is just mirroring the real reality which is the 4D and you already have it in the 4D.

So for example, I'm in school and my classmates are being annyoing, my teachers are being rude and it's like any day before this one which is exactly what I want to get away from with shifting my reality, so when I experience this-in my head I have to know that the 4D is the real reality and that I'm already in my DR and that I will soon be in my DR in the 3D and that this shouldn't bother me that much because soon I won't have to experience it anymore and I just simply have to know that I'm already in my DR (where it matters the most) and that it will come in the 3D. I could also return to my imagination and experience my DR through it (if I need fuel).

Sorry for making this so long, I just wanted to get my point across since this is the only thing left "bothering" me about LOA. I love your posts and you have helped me so much!!! Thank you 💛💛💛💛

Hello! I kinda think "3D/4D" is making it sound more complicated than it is.

Take a deep breath and let go of all the conflicting information for a second. This may be long but that's only because I'm trying to address any possible misconceptions I promise the actual concept isn't convoluted.

When we are speaking practically all it means is that you understand the physical world is not final and is completely changeable by you.

I don't expect you to completely disconnect from your physical body or to somehow be completely unaware of the physical world.

"Ignoring" the 3D does not mean you are magically blind to it it just means you don't mentally contradict your manifestation when you see it.

The 4D is just your internal world (thoughts, visualizations, internal conversations, etc).

Essentially, your subconscious believes anything you're repeating to it. It doesn't know or care if what you're repeating is reflected by the physical world. Its only job is to provide you proof of whatever you're giving to it.

The reason people tell you to fulfill in imagination is because it's supposed to be a way of telling yourself subconscious that it's a fact.

"Ignoring the 3D" is actually just making the conscious choice not to repeat to your subconscious that you don't have what you want because your subconscious will provide more of that.

You don't necessarily have to "feel" anything. Emotion is hard to control, hard to define, and inherently fleeting. Scientifically speaking most positive emotions don't linger very long and negative emotions are much more likely to stick around for longer periods.

You don't need to fuel yourself because it's not about motivation or emotion or drive. It's just consistently repeating to yourself what you want to happen.

Repeat a sentence that implies what you want to happen has happened and don't repeat anything to yourself that implies the opposite.

That is all.

[dearabby1990]

Hello, I would like to make a request Daryl x reader After Rick left and Daryl felt guilty and went to live in the forest, the archer's relationship with the reader no longer worked out, so they didn't see each other again. Until all the problems with the whisperers arise, and they start working together again, anyway, I wanted to ask you to write that the reader gets a little grumpy because she's jealous of Connie and she can't say anything because she and Daryl are no longer boyfriends. and in the end they resolve themselves and come back

WE’ll DO THIS IN A 2 PARTER LOVE THE IDEA

Three months it’s been since he packed his things and told you not to bother following him. Three months since your world fell to pieces even more then it has outside these walls. The worst part was when you tracked him down to tell him you were pregnant you found him playing in a stream with a beautiful woman and a dog. You couldn’t bare the sight another second quietly making your way back home. When Carol had come into your room to see how things went she was not only met with the sight of you uncontrollably sobbing but the giant sized puddle of blood between your legs. Not only has your heart been broken but the stress of it all caused an early term miscarriage. Thank goodness for your girls they kept checking in on you and letting you know they’ll always be there especially Carol, Maggie and Rosita.

Slowly you notice Daryl around more especially around Connie watching him half ass sign to her as he smiles. Wonder how many other women he flirts with not that it’s your business anymore. He catches your eye but before anyone can get any ideas you’re off helping Maggie and Paul load up the horses as Aaron says goodbye to Gracie. Little did you know Daryl was coming too this left you frustrated so you kept your distance feeling his fierce blue eyes piercing the back of your head. Deciding it be best to stick by Rosita and Eugene as you know when you get to the checkpoint you’ll be splitting ways. As soon as the horses pull up to the tower Daryl and the rest of his group went one way while you Eugene and Rosita did your part everything seemed to go off without a hitch. That was until you spotted a hoard approach from the top of the tower as Eugene is slowly climbing underneath you. “Uh Eugene do you see what I see?!” He turned his head brows full of sweat “son of a biscuit we gotta get the hell outta here stat!” He starts clambering down then your bag falls just missing his head as it hits the ground scaring you both as you tumble down hitting the ground with a hard thud. Eugene’s bone sticking from his leg and your ankle is at the very least badly sprained. You see a nearby barn Rosita quickly getting you both inside finding a hiding spot at the top in a hidden compartment in the flooring telling you to stay put until she can get more backup. The both of you huddled together hearing something off into the distance you crawl from the small space much to Eugene’s protests “please be careful y/n” you army crawl to the front opening seeing the hoard circling like buzzards hunting for prey & that's when you hear it “they can’t be far…. Don’t let them get away…” you hear whispers your eyes bulging from your head maybe you have a concussion and you’re hearing things you shuffle back pulling Eugene forward “what the hell are ya doing y/n?” “Eugene shut the fuck up for a moment and listen” you help crawl forward with him listening intensely “they have to be around here somewhere…. We’ll circle around again… we must not let them escape” he looks at you as if he’s seen a ghost “did they just… did they just talk?!” You cover his mouth trying to keep him quiet as not to be found he starts to panic “they’re evolving… the dead are evolving” you both crawl back into the crawl space waiting for help to come minutes turn to hours and the sun begins to set as you both grow extremely tired. The silence enveloping you but then you hear the sound of multiple footsteps it throws you both into a panic trying your best to both stay quiet until you hear the sounds of your brother and Aaron “y/n Eugene you here?..” “hello guys?..” after a moment they hear it “affirmative we’re under here”. Paul slides over to said area swiping away the hay that lay atop the latch door opening it revealing you both Paul pulls you up first then Eugene assessing your injuries & that’s when you see Daryl off in the background ignoring him completely you and Eugene start explaining what it was you saw and heard everyone being convinced you were both delirious you snap “NO! You’re not fuckin listening dipshits these bastards are talking we heard them not to mention they been circling the area since Rosita left!” “That’s impossible” mumbles Daryl “don’t remember anyone askin you asshole so just stay quiet” you spit venom his way throwing him off “besides don’t you have better shit to do better yet better people to do” you limp right by him throwing your shoulder into his as Rosita and Paul help get you out of there seeing the hoard approach “wow look at them this is different they should be miles away by now” said Aaron so Rosita throws a road flare to distract them it working for the first two minutes before they notice the redirection of the hoard “what the fuck? We gotta get the hell out of here now!” You all band together getting outside making your way through brush and trees coming upon a cemetery. You see something moving through the thick fog.

You and Paul both squint to see you look at him and Aaron and break into action taking out walker after Walker. Next thing you know Michonne is at the front gate trying to pry it open to get Eugene out. You three taking out Walker after Walker you goto high five your brother and just as you start to celebrate you hear a voice say something “this is just the beginning” as a sword plunged its way through your brother and you blood curdling scream causing everyone to whip their heads Daryl running over taking out what of these things as left as the rest retreat. Your on your knees with Paul’s head in your lap sobbing “I’m sorry I’m sorry” you bury your face into his chest “it’s okay y/n just remember everything I taught you and all the beautiful moments we’ve had together” then he looks up at Daryl with all he can muster “you make it up to her you make it up to her and my niece or nephew that could’ve been stop running and face your fears” Daryl confused by this just stands there watching you crumble to pieces “no!! Paul no please don’t leave please!” Before you know it you’re being lifted up and thrown over someone’s shoulder as you protest the whole way out of there. Rosita has you go with Daryl and dog to take you back to the house in one piece halfway there you hear moaning and murmuring again Daryl lifts you onto a roof and climbs up himself resting his arm protectively over your back calling dog to get him to redirect the heard as he lights a string of fireworks tossing it to add to the theatrics. The hoard begins following the noise after the fireworks fizz out is when Daryl finally hears it for himself “they can’t be too far keep searching… we don’t stop until they’re all dead…” his eyes snap wide as he stares at you. “What now all of a sudden I’m not so crazy? Do me a favor take me home so you can go back to whatever it is that you do” he takes a deep breath rolling on his back on the roof “what did Paul mean when he was talking about his nephew or niece?” You scoffed “not you’re business not your problem anymore don’t worry about it kay?” You turn away from him “hey! Answer the damn question he had to have said it for a damn reason!” You snap your head at him “oh yeah captain dipshit?! Wanna know what he fuckin meant? He meant me being excited we were gonna be a family just to find you playing house in a stream with some fuckin gorgeous woman and dog so I fuckin left you there you obviously didn’t need me so I went home so God decided to punish me even more by taking the baby from me too you didn’t need us so you got what you wanted! Then you start coming around again and become Connie’s fuckin personal fuckin apocalypse tour guide just to rub it in so you know what I gotta say to that?! Fuck you fuck the bullshit you’ve ever said to me all those nights of confessions didn’t mean shit to you I wasn’t a damn thing to you except something to pass the fuckin time. I lost Carl my little fuckin brother and I lose you I lose my baby and now my brother I think if anybody is entitled to take the fuck off it’s me! Kiss my Irish ass Dixon!” Hours Later

You gobble away from him as fast as you could weaving between trees not giving a shit if you ran into something or someone at this point anyone stupid enough to fuck with you was asking for a death wish. The gates open solemnly everyone stares one thing you can’t stand is pitiful looks and that’s when you see it. As if Paul left it there just for you his motorbike sitting next to his trailer keys dangling from the ignition so without second thought you hop on the seat. As you get comfortable you notice Daryl step through the gates of the community hurrying you run into Paul’s trailer grabbing what gear you could stuff in your bag running back outside hopping back onto the seat seeing Daryl starting to sprint towards you as you start up the bike him waiving his arms like a madman but this didn’t stop you from speeding through the community kicking up rocks as you sped back out of the gates not wanting to look back.

[louisaland]

Just a little ( well, quite big, really!) piece I wrote as I wanted more to this episode.

Missing Scenes from Sophomore Jinx

Just after Maureen sneaks down to help with dinner prep

« Lizzie, honey, can you go get Maureen for dinner, please? » Elliot asked his youngest child, as Kathy began dishing up the steak and fries they were having.

« I can do it, Dad! », Kathleen volunteered, as Lizzie scampered upstairs.

« Sweetheart, if I wanted to call Maureen down by standing at the bottom of the stairs, I’d do it myself. » Elliot replied, musing that Lizzie was the only member of the family that Maureen was currently speaking to and therefore the one with the highest chance of getting her to come down for dinner.

« Come on, Maureen, it’s steak and fries! If you don’t hurry Daddy will steal your fries! » Lizzie pleaded, knowing full well that Maureen always complained when their dad did that.

« OK, fine, I’m coming » Maureen grumbled.

« How about you sit next to Daddy for meals now? » Maureen suggested as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen, knowing that her place at the table was sought after, nay, coveted, by all her siblings, and when she agreed to swap with them, it was a big deal. 

« Yeah, Mo! Thank you! But does that mean you don’t love Daddy anymore? «  Lizzie questioned, eyes wide with surprise at her good fortune, but her tone was worried, as the tension between her big sister and their father was palpable.

«  He’s just being a total douch… uh, dope! » she corrected herself, not wanting to get in even more trouble for using «  bad language » in front of her younger siblings. And was it really bad language is it was the truth, she mused.

When she and Lizzie reached the table, Maureen grabbed her plate and  her sister’s, swapping them around before either of her parents could scold her. She banged her plate down loudly and proceeded to keep her eyes on it as much as possible throughout the meal. 

« Lizzie, please ask the man sitting next to you for the salt » she asked, stabbing her fork into her steak as if she were trying to kill the cow it came from. 

« Maureen… » Elliot began, before falling back into silence as Kathy reached over and put her hand on his arm, shooting him a look.

« Here, honey » he continued, handing the salt cellar to the daughter sitting next to him.

« Thank you, Daddy », she replied, before handing it to her eldest sibling.

Dickie and Kathleen glanced at each other, both equally  as uncomfortable with the unusual quietness that had descended upon mealtimes a few days ago.

As soon as Maureen had finished her bowl of chocolate mousse, she got up from the table with her glass, bowl and spoon, pulled open the dishwasher violently, slammed everything in so it clattered loudly against all the other utensils and plates that were in there. She then pushed the door shut with a crash, and stomped all the way upstairs.

There were a few seconds of respite, before her bedroom door banged shut loudly. 

Elliot sighed and met his wife’s gaze again. He knew he’d come down too hard on his daughter, but backing down now would just give her free rein to do whatever she wanted and get into who-knows-what kind of trouble. If only he’d taken 5 minutes to talk to her when he’d caught her sneaking out… 

Later that evening

« I’ll take the other three to school tomorrow, El. Maybe if you’re in an enclosed space together you’ll be able to talk to Maureen » Kathy said, rubbing cream into her hands.

« OK, I’ll try anything at this point, baby. Am I really so much of an ogre that she can’t talk to me? » Elliot sighed, slumping down on their bed.

« Elliot, honey, you’re a cop and she’s a teenager who is growing up and pushing you off the pedestal she’s had you on. You’re not an ogre, but she’s extremely stubborn… Can’t think who she gets that from » Kathy responded, trying to reassure her worried husband.

« Hmm, yeah, me neither, only 3 out of 4 of our kids are… » Elliot mused.

The next morning.

« Maureen! Breakfast! Now! » Kathleen yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

About 30 seconds later, Maureen stomped down the stairs, flung her school bag into the hallway next to the coat and shoe closet and entered the kitchen.

She grabbed her glass from the table, made her way to the fridge to pour herself a glass of juice, which she downed, before putting her glass in the sink. She also took out a yoghurt, which she placed on the table before sitting in what used to be Lizzie’s seat. She grabbed a banana and glowered at the other 5 people who were also eating their breakfast.

« OK, Kathleen, Dickie and Lizzie, we’re going in 10 minutes. That means teeth and hair brushed, coats and shoes on and bags and lunches properly packed, ready to go, alright? » Kathy declared.

A chorus of agreement from the children she had addressed echoed around the table.

« Wait a minute, Mom! What about me? » Maureen exclaimed, mouth and eyes opening widely.

« I have an errand to run after dropping your siblings off at school, so your dad’s taking you » Kathy explained.

Maureen’s eyes narrowed, her free hand formed a fist and she banged it on the table.

« Mom! No! You can take me too, or I can get the subway. I’d rather walk! » she said, frowning deeply and a look that could kill in her eyes.

« Maureen, the high school is in completely the opposite direction to school and the bank, but it’s on the way to the precinct. Your dad’s taking you and that’s the end of this discussion » Kathy replied, trying her best to keep her tone calm and even.

« Fine! » Maureen humphed, shooting daggers with her glare at her mother.Several minutes later, Maureen tidied up after herself, then made her way upstairs to clean her teeth and check her hair and makeup.

When she came back down, she called out « I’m ready! », grabbed the car keys off the hook in the hallway that was marked with a D, picked up her bag and went to sit in the passenger seat of her dad’s car. She would normally have tossed the keys to her dad, and they would have made their way outside together. 

Once she’d got her seatbelt on, her father emerged from the house, holding his briefcase, sunglasses on his nose and house keys in his other hand.

He deftly locked the front door and got into the driver’s seat. As he put on his seatbelt, he glanced at his daughter.

She swiftly turned her head, finding the view out of her window suddenly fascinating.

This would normally be a special father-daughter moment, with Maureen choosing the music and them either both singing along (well, more Maureen teaching him the lyrics, occasionally letting out a « Daddy! Those aren’t the right words! » if it was a song currently in the charts. Or they would just chat, usually teasing each other affectionately. 

The radio remained untouched, and the silence between them was deafening. 

The journey to Maureen’s school seemed to take an eternity, though all the lights were green, which put paid to his plan to try to initiate conversation when the car was not in motion.

When they pulled up to school and she got out of the car without even saying goodbye or even looking at him, Elliot decided he had to take action.

« Maureen! Wait a minute! » he called out.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him, annoyance written across her face and the look in her eyes as cold and hard as ice.

At the precinct

« Yeah, we’re OK now, baby. I think we covered all the bases of a reconciliation as she said sorry, I told her I loved her, we hugged and had a proper goodbye, so I call that a success. Kathleen has swimming tonight, right? And Dickie’s been really keen to go to that indoor play area with the climbing wall and ball pit. I know I said I’d take him at the weekend, but could you take him and Lizzie there? I’ve missed hanging out with Maureen, I think we could do with a bit of uninterrupted bonding time… We can pick up dinner if we head out somewhere, if that helps? » Elliot said, well aware that this was a big but necessary ask.

« Yeah, sure, El. Lizzie’s got a playdate, so that’s perfect. Maybe Dickie will actually burn off some of his energy and we’ll have a quiet dinner, hmm? » his wife replied.

« Well, miracles can happen! See you at 6 at home, then? And thanks, baby! » Elliot answered, looking forward to having some quality time with his eldest child.

 They exchanged I love yous and hung up.

Outside Maureen’s high school 

The final bell of the day rang out, and, seconds later, a tsunami of chattering students spilled out of the building, flooding the steps and the area in front of the entrance. Elliot stood a little taller next to his car, seeking out his daughter’s golden hair and bright, tinkling laugh. She emerged, arm-in-arm with her two best friends, Hannah and Sophie. They were giggling about something. Hannah looked over in his direction, nudged his daughter, pointed to where he was standing and asked her something. Her face clouded with worry, wiping the smile from her face and dulling the joyous sparkle in her eyes. She exchanged a few words and quick hugs with her friends before dashing over to him.

« Daddy! Hi! Is everyone OK? » she gasped, slightly winded from her sprint.

« Yeah, everyone and everything are fine, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry. » Elliot explained, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. She squeezed him around his middle and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He smoothed her hair and cupped her face with his hands, just like he had that morning.

« Everyone else is out until dinner time, so how about we do something together? We could even go to the mall if you want! » he told his daughter.

« But Daddy, you hate the mall! You call it a bottomless money pit! And anyway, it’s a school night and I have a ton of homework, so can we just go home, please? » Maureen replied, flashing her father a happy smile.

« As you wish », Elliot declared, opening the passenger side door for his daughter.

She grinned at the quote from one of her favourite movies and got into the vehicle.

Elliot got into the driver’s side and they headed home.

At the Stabler residence.

« Thanks Dad! » Maureen said, as Elliot handed her a plate of apple slices spread with peanut butter and a handful of crackers. She placed the dish next to her glass of chocolate milk and returned her attention to her Latin homework.

Her father finished preparing his coffee and came to sit at the table opposite his daughter and her gigantic pile of books, papers and pens. She certainly hadn’t lied when she’d told him she had a lot of homework, but then again, she was the one who had pushed to be able to take as many AP classes as she could. 

« Ugh! Why did I choose to take Latin as well as French and Spanish? All the languages are getting mixed up in my brain! » she muttered, mostly to herself. 

« Want some help, honey? » Elliot asked, frowning slightly at his daughter who put so much unnecessary pressure on herself to do everything perfectly and for whom a B+ was a disappointing grade. That was all Kathy, she had definitely been the better student between the two of them. If only she could transfer some of it to Kathleen, who was content to do the bare minimum and just scrape a C.

Maureen nodded and handed him her Latin flashcards.

« OK, the verb to love in the present tense. You’ve got this, sweetheart » he said, gently encouraging his daughter. 

Maureen took a deep breath, then looked at him blankly.

She shook her head in despair. 

« Want a clue? » Elliot offered.

« Yeah, thanks » Maureen replied.

« Who are you? » he asked.

« If I am an El, you are a… »

« Amo, right? » Maureen giggled in spite of herself.

She thought for a second, recalling the verb that she had committed to memory perfectly days before.

« Then it’s amas, amat… » she continued, making the shape of a church with her fingers for the first one and pointing at the rug in the hallway for the second.

She finished conjugating the verb perfectly then moved on to her Spanish vocabulary.

She teasingly corrected Elliot’s terrible accent, which was completely justified, in his opinion.

Once she had finished, she read through her English essay. It was only a second  rough draft, and it wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, but she wanted to get it underway.

Once she was satisfied with her work, she neatly put all her things away in her bag, which she placed in the hallway.

Then she turned her attention to the kitchen counter and her father, who had started preparing dinner. Elliot silently handed her a red bell pepper with a smile, and she busied herself finding a chopping board and a knife before joining him in the cutting up of vegetables for the pasta sauce they were going to be eating.

They chatted aimiably, Maureen giving him some of the gossip from school, how the football team were doing, explaining why she never wanted to be a cheerleader, that she wanted to do more actual writing for the newspaper, as how was she ever going to be a journalist if she never got any writing experience? 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. 

« Keep an eye on the pasta, please, Mo? » Elliot asked, as he made his way to the front door. 

If he were a betting man, he would put money on it being his second eldest daughter, who was seemingly trying to not only beat the Olympic record for her butterfly, but also for the number of times house keys were forgotten.

He checked the peep-hole, his suspicions confirmed and opened the door to Kathleen. Mrs Simmons, her friend Ashley’s mom, honked her horn and waved at him from her car, before driving off.

« Kathleen! You know the point of having house keys is that you take them with you, right? » he remonstrated.

She dumped her backpack and her sports bag in the middle of the hall and sighed dramatically.

« Sorry, Daddy, I’ll remember them tomorrow, I promise! » she replied, turning as if to go upstairs.

« Uh-huh, that’s what you told me twice last week and yesterday, honey? One of these days, you’re gonna come home and no-one will be in. What are you gonna do if you don’t have your keys, huh? » he reproached her. 

«  Go to the neighbours’, stay with Ashley and her mom til someone comes home, go see if Mom’s taken Dickie and Lizzie to the park… Or yeah, I could just remember my keys! » she declared, taking note on the disapproving look on her father’s face.

He ceremoniously handed her the keys hanging on the hook marked with a K, jangling the big metal K, the Jets logo and a chunk of moonstone on a chain that were attached to the keychain.

As she rose after crouching down to put the offending item in her school bag, 

Elliot cupped her face gently.

« Let’s try this again, OK? » , he announced.

« Hi, honey », he continued, before kissing her forehead.

« Hi Daddy », she replied, before launching into a recap of her swimming training where the coach had praised her improved technique in butterfly, which she had practised on Saturday morning when they had gone to the pool for their one-on-one Daddy-daughter quality time. 

Elliot grinned at her, gave her a thumbs up and a high-five, before sending her upstairs to shower ( and hopefully put her swimming stuff away, but that was almost certainly wishful thinking on his part).

He returned to the kitchen and resumed his culinary tasks.

Maureen had set the table, and everything was on the stove, where it could be kept warm until everyone was back and ready to eat.

Kathleen arrived from upstairs, hair damp and wearing her checked blue pyjamas. 

She curled up on the couch, and as she picked up the remote, Elliot asked her if her homework was done. She replied in the negative, whining that  all she had to do was reading for tomorrow.

« Well then, Kathleen, I think you can guess what your options are? »  he replied.

He could practically hear his daughter’s eye-roll from across the room. 

«  Ugh, yeah, do the reading or help with dinner. Fine, I’ll do the reading! » she declared, making a big show of getting up and retrieving the novel from her backpack. She theatrically collapsed into the couch and began her assignment. 

The sound of the front door opening was followed by a rush of fast footsteps and an exuberant shout  of « Daddy! » that could only come from his little boy.

He turned the handle of the pan that was full of bubbling pasta sauce just in time to avoid it going all over his son, who he picked up to hug.

Of course Dickie hadn’t taken his coat or shoes off before greeting him. 

His little boy was chattering about how he had « the best day ever, Daddy! » because he’d climbed right up to the top of the climbing wall, had jumped higher than a kangaroo into the ball pit and had run so so fast in the race he’d taken part in at recess. Elliot carried him back to the hallway so he could take off his outerwear and put it away correctly, like his youngest and his wife were doing. Dickie had been peppering his mostly one-sided conversation with kisses to his father’s cheeks. Elliot returned the gesture, before placing him on the floor with precise instructions on what the next steps were. 

Lizzie hugged his legs and he bent to kiss her hair with a « Hi, pumpkin. Good day at the office? » which made her giggle. She nodded and made her way to the living area to do some reading, colouring or quiet playing until dinner time. Dickie followed behind, pretending to be a dinosaur.

He  finally greeted his wife with a kiss.

« Lizzie and her friend, Charlotte,  ended up coming to the soft play too » she explained.

« I’ll let you guess which one of our children did their homework quietly then sat and drew pictures or played in the pretend kitchen area and which one decided they will be retiring at the end of first grade and wanted to show everyone their pterodactyl impression » she continued, as she and her husband made their way into the family room.

Kathleen and Maureen were bickering, Dickie was running around, squawking loudly and Lizzie was carefully placing her rabbit family of Calico Critters in their tastefully decorated home. 

It was noisy, chaotic but full of love and laughter, and Elliot just loved it. He was looking forward to have Maureen back in her usual seat at the table and to hear her talking to everyone again. 

Maureen and her dad

Don't you understand? You're innocent, but the world, it's what I see day in, day out. You want to sneak out in the middle of the night, have a little fun with your friends. I end up picking up your body parts in the middle of Jersey.

SVU 1x06 Sophomore Jinx

[arcadequeerz]

Genuinely I have no motivation to keep Going anymore.