#so i really love this batch of pictures

[illiana-mystery]

Is it a fine Sunday, or is it just him?

[sanshinexx]

Family portrait with the Dad Bad Batch

[chuluoyi]

✎ wife

- gojo satoru x reader

in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher's wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

genre: fluff, crack, gojo being a silly little menace as always, yuji and nobara are confused, an attempt at humor, lovesick gojo, mention of breastfeeding

note: it’s so silly but i had fun writing this! based on a request by anon (thank you!) but i tweaked it a bit and partly inspired by this fanart. reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high and has a baby with gojo—loosely a continuation of protect

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Take that off immediately!"

"Kyaaah~! Yuji is here, you pervert!"

Yuji was a laughing mess. Megumi and Nobara collectively sighed. Nanami attempted to retrieve his once-immaculate suit, now a crumpled mess, from the one and only Gojo Satoru, who found humor in stealing his signature attire and impersonating the stern-faced Nanami in front of his fresh batch of first years.

"He is incorrigible," Nobara grumbled, her eyes slitting. They said that he was a strong sorcerer, possibly the strongest there was, but she found it really hard to believe.

Megumi threw her a deadpan stare. With many years of putting up with this kind of antics under his belt, he pitied her for not knowing that this was far from the worst. "Yeah, he is."

"How does anyone ever put up with him?"

That was actually a good question. "We don't..." Megumi paused, recalling each and every occasion where he tried to do so. "His wife is probably the only one who can."

Nobara sputtered, spinning towards him. "What the—wife? That annoying man has an actual, living, breathing wife?"

"Who? Gojo-sensei?" Yuji chimed in, jumping into the conversation, leaving the supposedly two adults in their catfight. Nanami was still clawing to get his suit back, and Gojo continued to giggle and evade him, playfully running away.

Nobara scoffed. "I bet the woman just married him for the money. He comes from prestigious clan, yes? That must be it."

Yuji felt his eyes would pop out of its sockets. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki!? What woman—"

"Shut up, Itadori! Don't be too loud!"

Nobara and Yuji's unharmonious ruckus irritated Megumi to the bone, and he decided that the best course of action now was to leave them all in the dust. With a glare and a shake of his head, he stalked away.

And thus the two new first years were left with half-truths that would lead them into a major misadventure later that day—

—which happened when they spotted Nanami with you, whom they were still unfamiliar with.

They were convinced that Gojo’s wife must be some sort of boring tramp eyeing his wealth and not this positively radiant, mature woman, and so ruling that possibility out, they positively swooned at the sight before them.

"He's irresponsible, egotistical—" snippets of Nanami's frustrated words conveyed enough to paint a picture of Gojo's character. He was definitely ranting about Gojo to you.

"Is that Nanamin's wife?" Yuji mused, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "She is so pretty..."

"They... look cute together," Nobara hummed with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Yuji sharply. "And yes, she's indeed pretty, but know your place, Itadori!"

"I know!"

Based on how the two of you interacted, they concluded that you must have been close, with the way Nanami visibly relaxed around you, and not as formal as he was with anyone else. They highly suspected that the two of you were married, as you wore a ring, which was the ultimate sign.

"And how's the baby?" Nanami asked then, directing the question to you with a smile on his face, prompting surprised gasps from both Yuji and Nobara.

You were glowing, to say the least, and when you let out a small giggle at his question, even both students couldn't miss the way your expression exuded pure happiness. "He is well. Ah, I really wanted to bring him along too, but he was a little messy after eating so I left him at home. You can see him later…"

Yuji gaped. "So it's true..."

"Oh my gosh... and they have a baby." Nobara almost squealed.

And that sealed it. The headline of the day: Nanami is married to this stunning woman wandering the school grounds.

So imagine their utter shock when the second time they found you, you were with Gojo, and he was shamelessly snogging you in the hallway.

“Why are you here?” Gojo was breathless after the soul-sucking kiss he smothered you. His tone remained playful yet carried a clear undertone of concern. "You're still on maternity leave. I'll make sure Yaga knows that."

“Satoru,” you whined, and the use of his given name made Yuji and Nobara gasp in disbelief. “I’m perfectly okay and I don’t need to breastfeed anymore. I should start getting back to work.”

Nobara seemed to finally understand the implication. But Yuji didn’t. His mind flitting from one scandalous idea to another—

Gojo-sensei seducing Nanamin’s wife? Nanamin’s wife cheating on him with Gojo-sensei?

In the brief period he spent with Gojo, Yuji realized that he didn't exactly have a reputation for decency. So despite himself, he could only muster up this one word: “Homewrecker. Homewrecker!”

Yuji’s shriek took all three of you by surprise, and now both you and Gojo were aware of his presence.

“You absolute idiot,” Nobara hissed, face-palming.

“Oh, Yuji? Nobara?” Gojo genially asked, his concern towards you quickly dissolved into a meaningful smirk on his face. “And what do you mean by—?”

Yuji yelped. “You! You are! You’re trying to seduce Nanamin’s wife!”

Silence. Gojo’s eyes twitched beyond his blindfold. You blinked. Nobara wanted to save herself from the second-hand embarrassment. And his loud voice caught the attention of Megumi too, who was close by.

“You seem to be mistaken. First of all, Nanami isn’t married,” Gojo said with a strained voice, maintaining his smile. He then gestured at you, showing you off with pride. “And this here, is my wife.”

“Y-your wife?!” Yuji exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “H-how?! I saw her with Nanamin! Talking about a baby—”

“That would be my baby.”

“But how?!”

“Yuji, do you want me to give you a crash course in baby-making—”

“Satoru!”

You sent him a glare and turned to the young first years with a smile. "You must be the new first years? I’m Y/N, and I’m in charge of the second years.” You gestured towards your husband. “And please, ignore most things he says. He’s a bit crass, and if you ever feel he's harassed you, don't hesitate to report it to me."

“Wifey! How could you!”

“Shut up, Satoru! You’re embarrassing yourself!”

“What are you doing here?” Megumi inquired with a deep frown, getting between Yuji and Nobara as they stared at Gojo in total bewilderment.

Yuji exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at you. “Fushiguro! Gojo-sensei’s wife is a beauty!”

“…I know that already.”

Nobara whipped her head towards him. "You knew?! Since when?!"

“They… took me in.”

“THEY WHAT?!”

Gojo grinned at their chorus of surprise. “And what a fine boy he turns out to be, eh?”

Megumi scowled, but Gojo wasn’t bothered at all. If anything, what offended him was—

"What makes you think my dear wife here belongs to Nanami instead of me?" he joked with a mock scoff, earning an eye roll from you.

Nobara and Yuji blurted out their thoughts simultaneously.

“They look good together?”

“Nanamin is dependable?”

Gojo gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his mouth. "So, not only do I not look good with her, but I also don't seem dependable enough?" He turned to you with the most aghast expression. “Tell me that isn’t true—”

You shot him a withering look, deadpanning, “Actually, you might be.”

And Gojo clutched his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

Epilogue

“Satoru… come on, you know I was joking.”

Your dramatic ass of a husband had his head on your lap, hugging your torso tight. The pout on his face hadn’t faded a bit ever since he was done with his class, and now on your marital bed, he was clinging to you with all of his might.

He shook his head petulantly, clicking his tongue. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my students. You’re so mean!”

You sighed. “I’m sure you have made a fool out of yourself far often. This is insignificant.”

“Hmph! How could you say that?! I don't care if it's me, but I can't believe that it's coming from you! I shower you with my undivided love each and every day!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Somehow seeing him like this made your heart lurch. He reminded you so much of your baby boy who was sleeping right in the next room that you couldn't resist smiling and pinching his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. My husband is handsome, looks good with me and definitely someone I can rely on,” you relented, and like a lightbulb going off, Satoru suddenly beamed so wide that you were certain his cheeks hurt.

“That’s more like it! Now, now, there’s only one way that can prove how responsible I am! Let me just fill you up with another baby—”

You smacked him on the head.

[feralforfrank]

drabbles i found in my notes - instead of posting part two of the christmas thing i wrote 😖

simon riley x fem!reader

you're on the couch, mindlessly watching a tv show when the front door unlocks. simon walks in, and you barely lift your hand to greet him. he'd gone for a run almost an hour ago, claiming he didn't want to waste a perfectly cloudy afternoon. you opted to stay under your warm blanket.

you hear rustling as he shuts the front door, and that's what draws your attention. takeout is your first thought, but you would've smelt it, and you already have leftovers from lunch.

lifting your head curiously, you only see simon's broad back in the kitchen table. you can't figure out what he's doing, but you're too lazy to get up and find out, and so you stay planted on the couch, head turned in a weird angle to catch a glimpse.

when he finally turns to face you, your mouth opens, surprised eyebrows rise in curiosity. there's a batch of lilies on your kitchen table and another colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"brought you flowers," is all he says when he approaches the couch, sitting by your feet.

he offers, and you grab them, bringing them to inhale. "why?"

he shrugs. "were pretty, and i thought of ya."

-

taking riley out for a walk is one of your favourite things, especially when it's just snowed. she loves running around the snow as much as you do. simon just likes tagging along because the park right next to your flat is empty and peaceful.

she's an obedient girl, listening to her dad and not tugging at her leash while you're walking. but as soon as you arrive at the snowy park and unclip her leash, she becomes the devil of tazmania.

you play tag with her, running around the trees, bushes, and the small playground. simon opts to stay seated on a bench hidden under some trees and watch you, occasionally snapping pictures of you — particularly when riley trampled you to the ground.

he's paying attention to his phone when an idea lights up your eyes. the snowball hits him square in the face and you cheer, not even trying to hide the fact that you're the perpetrator (not that there was anyone else in this park, moreso in his vicinity).

simon's beanie and mask are covered in snow, as are his eyelashes. his glare is non-threatening, yet intimidating as fuck. you smile innocently, but it falters when he stands up at once.

"yur gonna pay for tha', love."

fifteen minutes later, you're returning home, your jacket, gloves, and lower body are soaked. you sport red nose and cheeks and a prominent scowl, while simon looks smug under his mask. riley is just happy to be there.

"c'mon rudolph, i'll warm ya right up when we get 'ome."

-

playing monopoly with simon and his buddies is the worst thing in the world. torture, really. they all cheat! yes, even captain price, although he thinks he hides it well by putting on his thinking face.

kyle and johnny sit on the other side of your coffee table, price sits on the loveseat and simon next to you, peaning back against the couch. he has a huge arm over your shoulders, playing with the hem of your shirt every time you get upset with their shenanigans.

"come on, garrick! i'm not fucking stupid - you said a hundred and twenty the last time i came around. now you say it's a hundred and eighty, like i won't notice!"

"i'm not cheating! you're just hard if hearing!"

your eyes widen, mouth drops in shock.

"ha!" exclaims johnny with a laugh.

you point at him. "you should not even be in the game - you went bankrupt like three times!"

"uh, 'scuse me, bonnie, but as you can see i have money right here." he points on the spot in front of him. he has barely enough to last him a round.

"that's because price has been sneaking money to you. i'm not blind! simon, back me up!"

he takes a drag of his cigarette and shrugs, barely able to conceal a smile at your flushed cheeks. your jaw drops, again. that fucker is in on it.

"you dick! you're letting him rob the bank! you are the bank! ugh." your head falls on the table with a thud.

you hear price chuckle.

"you're all terrible," you mumble.

"you'll live," replies kyle.

you're stubborn enough to finish the game and be at least not the first person to lose. johnny ends up losing after you catch price red-handed giving him the money - you turned to sip on your drink for one second. simon is the next to go, but you end up losing to kyle. you shake hands, promising threatening to play again next time you visit his house.

[luvsupa]

tags: neighbour!nanami x fem!reader, fluff-ish, crack, reader is in mid 20s and nanami is mid 30s, readers obsessed with nanami w.c: 800

you peek through the blinds in your living room, squinting for a better view of your neighbour. a frown crosses your face as you notice a gathering of children and mothers around his front door, which is beautifully decorated for halloween. you watch as the mothers twirl their hair and giggle in unison, but you still can’t see what your neighbour is wearing. you feel like a creep, lurking behind the blinds just to catch a glimpse of the new guy.

your heart races when you finally spot nanami. damn, he looks incredible in his costume—a vampire. you’ve heard whispers about the mysterious man who just moved in, and even the married women have been known to stand outside early in the morning just to greet him.

“do i seriously have to dress up?” you retreat from the window as you hear your nephew whine while entering the living room. you burst into laughter at the sight of him squeezing into the ghostbusters costume he wore a few years ago- the sleeves barely reach his wrists.

“well, yes!” you reply, snapping photos of him as he glares with frustration. in one picture, he slightly raises his middle finger, and you gasp, realizing he’s picking up on your habits. oops.

“i’m too old for trick ‘r treating! i don’t even wanna stay here,” he grumbles, his temper flaring as you giggle at the photos and send them to your sister, his mom, just as he threatens to rip off the costume.

“can you just behave? i’m trying to meet the love of my life,” you say, putting your phone away to prevent him from ruining your plans.

“he doesn’t even know you exist, dummy.” your jaw drops at his bluntness, and he starts pointing at you, laughing like a little brat.

“tch, you’re laughing a bit too much for someone who lost his girlfriend to a stuffed animal,” you retort, laughter spilling from your lips as he shoots you a ‘really’ look.

“at least i was in a relationship! dunno about you, hag,” he fires back, leaving you choking on a laugh. seriously, who’s teaching this kid all this at twelve years old?

you don’t say anything as you pull him toward the front door, making him put on his shoes and grab his trick or treat bag before stepping outside. your gaze is fixed on nanami’s house, now swarming with kids and mothers.

i know why you mothers are here…

“ow, let go!” your nephew winces, pushing your hand away from his shoulder as you realize you’ve been gripping him too tightly. you both end up in a long line in front of his house because these mothers won’t leave! impatience gnaws at you- you just want a chance to see him.

finally, you reach the front of the line, and you scold your nephew to behave before giving him a gentle push toward the door.

“trick or treat.” he says in an unenthusiastic tone, while you stand behind him, practically buzzing with excitement. nanami steps outside with a fresh batch of candy, smiling at your nephew’s costume. when his hazel eyes shift to yours, your breath hitches.

he definitely wants me.

“your son is so adorable,” he says.

what?

oh hell no.

“son? n-no, he’s my nephew! he was dying to come to your house,” you stammer, and he chuckles, revealing his fake fangs.

“what? you forced me—” your nephew starts, but you quickly cover his mouth to prevent him from ruining everything, sharing a warm chuckle with nanami as you stand awkwardly on his doorstep.

“d-do you have any kids?” you ask, hoping he says no. your heart would shatter if he did.

“ahh, no, i don’t—though i do wish to have a family of my own someday,” he admits, and you nod, intrigued by his almost wistful tone.

“yeaaa, i want a family with you—of my own too!” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words as his smirk widens, and your eyes practically sparkle with embarrassment.

“she stalks you everyday,” your annoying nephew pipes up, and you feel your face heat up as you wish you could disappear. nanami quirks his brows in surprise, bursting into laughter, while you stand frozen, your eyes twitching. seriously, someone needs to watch for this kid.

“heh, she’s not the only one,” he replies, and you swear you must be dreaming. nanami quickly grabs something from inside his house, scribbles on a notepad, and attaches it to your nephew’s bag of candy before handing the candy directly to you.

you’re so starstruck you can’t move as your nephew tugs on your arm, dragging you away while the interaction feels surreal. you walk past the mothers, who scoff at you, and hear him wish the two of you a happy halloween.

you glance down at the notepad he gave you:

I’ll be waiting for your call, stalker

nanami kento

you gasp, noticing his phone number written beneath it. you just bagged the hottest man alive and these mothers didn’t.

“you two are a buncha freaks,” your nephew comments as he pulls you back toward your house. honestly, you don’t care—you’re just so thrilled that you’re the one he chose.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Snow Angel

Summary: Steve suggests a snowy drive through Hawkins that gets heated at his favorite overlook.

This is COMPLETELY self-indulgent, because for me, Christmas doesn't feel very festive this year. It's soft and sappy with two people very much in love. This is for anyone that needs to feel something a little extra for the season. ❤️ And since I couldn't get those pictures of that truck out of my head, enjoy some smut!

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: No use of Y/N. Pet names (angel, honey, etc). Fluff. Soft Smut. Slight fingering. P in V. Creampie.

WC: 4K

Snow fell softly, adding to the already six inches or so that blanketed the quiet little world of Hawkins. The forecast called for at least six more overnight, but you hadn't minded. With Christmas a few days away and nowhere to go, it was easy to busy yourself making dozens of fresh baked cookies for your friends and loved ones.

He finally swung open the front door in the early evening, with a shiver but his senses were delighted with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafting through the air. Ever mindful, he quickly undid his boots and toed them off at the door, sitting them alongside yours and hanging his coat on the small rack.

A soft smile pulled at the edges of your lips when you hear him enter, taking the last batch from the oven before setting them on the cooling rack. He leaned against the door frame, with a low whistle, eyes roving over your frame.

“Have you been baking all day?” He asks with a grin, cheeks and nose tinted pink from the bitter cold, the soft knit beanie you had gifted him a few weeks ago sitting atop his head.

Turning to face him, you grace him with a beaming smile to match his own. The “kiss the cook” apron, dusted with flour hung haphazardly around your neck made a breathy chuckle escape him as he took a few more steps toward you, holding out a bouquet of red and white roses.

“What's all this for?” Removing the oven mitts so you could take them from him, lifting the flowers to your nose, inhaling the fragrant blooms.

“Just saw them and thought of you.” He shrugs, moving closer, until his hand reaches out to rest on your hip, pulling you into him.

You quickly maneuvered the flowers to the counter to wrap your arms around his neck. He was warm despite the frigid temperatures he had just come from.

“Steve, they're beautiful.” You comment, knowing that he hadn't just seen them. They weren't just supermarket flowers, venturing you to guess he had gone to the square to stop at the flower shop on the way home in this dreadful weather.

“Beautiful flowers, for my beautiful girl.” He smiles, wrapping his other arm around your waist and leaning in, until his nose nudges yours. You wrinkle at the chill, as your lashes flutter across your cheeks before his lips find yours in a soft, tender kiss.

He tasted of peppermints, the same ones he stuffed in his pockets every morning before heading into work, wrappers pushed back into those pockets that you had been emptying every time you washed his jeans.

You hummed, fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck as he pulled away, leaning his forehead to yours. Slowly you open your eyes to see his golden brown, mossy infused orbs staring back at you.

“Got any plans, gorgeous?” He asks, fingertips running up the length of your spine and back down.

You giggled at the question as you answered, “Just spending the evening with you. Why?”

“How about…” He smiled, gently swaying you to some invisible song he alone seemed to hear. “You and I take a little drive. We can look at Christmas lights, and you can sit really close.” His voice dropping seductively at the last part.

Ever since Steve had brought home that shiny new truck, he had insisted you sit right next to him on the bench seat, making sure you were pressed into his side. His hand would either be on your thigh or slung over your shoulders at all times.

You were hesitant to say yes, eyes drifting to the window, worried the two of you might get stuck out in the cold if the snow continued to come down at its current rate. As if he could sense your trepidation, he cradled your jaw, thumb running soothingly along your cheek pulling your focus back to him.

“I'll make sure it's warm and toasty for you. Want to make some hot chocolate to take with us?” Eyes wide with a mix of reassurance and excitement, awaiting your response.

And how could you say no to that puppy dog look? The pouty lips and pleading gaze did you in each and every time.

Sighing softly, you nod, and he grinned immediately, kissing your forehead and reluctantly pulling back from your warm embrace to fish his keys from the front of his jeans and make his way back to the front door.

As he got dressed, you began making the hot chocolate, opting for instant because you knew Steve would be eager to head out. You left the water to boil, hanging the apron up and padding down the hall to your shared room to change into warmer clothing.

Flannel pajamas were exchanged for wool socks, jeans and a sweater, red to match his. You momentarily stop in front of the mirror to wipe a smidge of flour from your cheek and swipe on some lip gloss before returning to the kitchen just in time for the kettle to whistle.

He returns a few minutes later, waiting by the door, cupping his hands against his mouth to warm them up as you emerge to greet him with a thermos full of hot cocoa for your little adventure.

“Here, my little snow angel.” He says softly, setting the thermos down on the small table in the foyer to grab your coat, helping you into it, then taking your matching beanie and pulling it over your head, ensuring it was snuggly in place.

“Ready?” He asks, with a warm smile that reaches his eyes, grabbing onto the thermos once more.

“Ready!” Parroting with as much enthusiasm, as he opens the front door to the awaiting winter wonderland.

The snow was still falling, large powdery flakes landing all around the two of you as winter's cold embrace fought against your warm attire. The blue and white Chevy Silverado sat idling in the driveway, a warm safe haven ready to welcome you in.

He jogged ahead to get the door for you, waiting until you slid into the seat handing you the thermos before shutting it, briefly illuminated by the headlights as he crossed the front to hop into the driver's seat.

“Shit.” He breathes out, slamming the door against the frigid cold, watching a few flakes melt into the fabric of his jacket. “Warm me up, angel.”

He sweeps his arm around you, tugging you over and gently tucking you into his side, not a space between the two of you to be had. A giggle escapes you as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, icy nose brushing against the underside of your jaw before his warm breath follows.

A few moments pass, before he sighs, placing a kiss where his lips rest against your exposed skin as he reluctantly pulls himself away. Utterly and hopelessly head over heels for the boy in front of you, hoping he can see it conveyed on your face when you lean in, pressing a soft but brief kiss to his lips. A dopey, lovesick grin graces his features when you break away.

“I love you.” He hums, squeezing your waist.

“I love you too, baby, but we can't see these Christmas lights if we sit in the driveway all night.”

He sighs again, knowing you're right. This was his idea after all but being this close to you always makes him feel dizzy. He pulls his arm away from you to put the truck in reverse and slowly eases out of the drive. As soon as he's on the main road, his hand is firmly planted on your thigh.

He throws the windshield wipers on high, fighting against the onslaught of pelting flakes melting on contact. The streets are empty, peaceful even, as the headlights shine a path ahead cutting through the snowy landscape. He takes it slow, rightfully so, as the plow trucks have turned in for the foreseeable evening since no one else seems brave or dumb enough to be out in this weather.

You turn off of your street and head north toward Loch Nora, the wealthy neighborhood that Steve grew up in. It holds both special memories and times he would like to forget but they always knew how to decorate for Christmas.

It's a quiet journey for the most part, passing the hot cocoa back and forth, listening to the radio at a reasonable volume, letting soft rock or the occasional Christmas song fill the comfortable silence. It wasn't long before he turned off into the subdivision, twinkling string lights illuminated the sign as you entered.

Bright, sparkling bulbs of all colors could be seen up and down the sleepy street, as he eased to a crawl, allowing you both to bask in the soft glow and nostalgia. Seeing all the houses lit up paired with him by your side, made your heart leap with an immeasurable fondness.

He rolled to a stop in front of a home tucked away at the end of the cul-de-sac that he recognized all too well. White lights in abundance, clean and crisp, not a strand out of place. Much like the sterile environment he had grown up in. Mrs. Harrington would rather die than ever have the gaudy multicolored lights. Calling the neighbors absolute fools for the mismatched catastrophes.

Your heart aches at the way his eyes drift over the exterior, with a heavy sigh. Christmas was a touchy subject with Steve for a long time, though it was still his favorite holiday. He was never allowed to help decorate the tree, it was a showboat, much like anything else the elder Harrington's did.

The first Christmas with you had brought the magic back for him. A fresh, live tree was picked out and brought into your home, decorated with mismatched ornaments from your childhood, multicolored string lights and tinsel. He smiled and laughed the entire time until his cheeks ached. Now that you shared a home, he enjoyed it even more, spending every evening curled up with you on the couch the entire month, watching a different Christmas movie when you could.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers, as you look back over to him, catching the way his small frown transforms back into the smile he carried before, bringing your hand up to his lips for a kiss.

He eased back into a slow drive, leaving that house in the rear view, making an exit out of the neighborhood.

“I've got one more place to show you.” He states with a hint of softness to his voice. “It's not far from here.”

“I'll go wherever you take me. We've got plenty of hot chocolate.” Holding up the thermos for emphasis.

You ease back into a comfortable silence, your thumb rubbing soothingly across his hand where you still grasp it. The road gets a little more snowy and the trees more dense the further he goes. The path winds and travels up until he reaches a small clearing, parking it with practiced ease and shutting off the headlights.

Out beyond you lay the town of Hawkins. It looked like a snow globe, lit up from the streetlights and jolly decorations as the snow fell.

“How beautiful!” You gushed, leaning forward in the seat to gain a better look, eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the dash.

“Beautiful.” He uttered, looking at you instead, placing his arm back around your shoulders as you melted back into his embrace, kissing your temple then leaning his head onto the top of yours, muttering “I love you” into your hat.

“I love you too, Steve.” You echo, pushing away from him slightly so you could see his face, taking in the way the moonlight partially illuminated his best features. The angular slope of his perfect nose, the soft lines of his pouty lips, and the curve of his sharp jaw all stood out. His eyes drop as you take your lip between your teeth, studying him as he studies you.

He untangles his hand from yours to find your cheek, his thumb grazing along your bottom lip when you release it, causing your breath to hitch and your heart rate to tick upward as if you hadn't kissed him a hundred times before. Steve always had this effect on you, and you hoped right then and there he always would.

You both lean forward, noses grazing as he tilts your head just right for your lips to meet, closing your eyes. It was sweet and tender, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as if you might pull away but you reach up, gripping the front of his jacket to pull him in.

His tongue parts your lips, as you softly moan, melting further into him. He takes the lead, deepening the kiss, as it becomes hungry and heated. That familiar spark of desire shoots through you. His fingers trailing lightly down your neck finding the zipper on your jacket, tugging it down smoothly until your sweater comes into view. His hand snakes down, finding the edge of the woolen fabric, running his palm across your soft stomach, causing you to shudder, before ultimately landing on your hip.

His free hand comes to cradle the back of your head, as he pulls away to kiss a path across your jaw, nipping at your earlobe and finding the little spot below your ear that makes you gasp. He grins against you, sucking a little harder at that spot, his tongue then licking across your skin in a soothing manner.

“Steve.” You say, in that breathless way that makes him moan against your heated skin. You tug at his beanie until it comes free, running your fingers through his already disheveled hair to hold him in place.

His cock is already painfully hard, tented and straining against his jeans, groaning when you palm at his erection, hips grinding upward, pushing himself further against your hand.

“Need you.” He whispers, voice needy and strained.

“Need you too.” Replying as he parts from you momentarily to remove his jacket, watching as you do the same, tossing them both with reckless abandon into the floorboard.

He immediately grabs you by the hips, pulling you into his lap, chests flush, legs straddling either side of his.

He nips at your top lip, then your bottom lip, pulling back with a sly smirk, leaving you a little breathless and wanting before you roll your hips into his as he gasps, gripping you a little tighter to hold you in place.

“Not fair, angel.” He whispers, a soft mumble against your lips before crashing them into yours. You move in tandem, a slow and steady build, tongues dancing and gliding together in a messy crescendo of need and desire.

The cab of the truck is hot, suddenly feeling cramped with far too many layers of clothing between you, breaking the kiss to come up for much needed air you quickly ease off his lap, much to his dismay.

His pout turns into another grin, when you toe your boots off and he sees you unbuttoning your jeans, he starts to do the same. His buckle clicks open loudly, his deft fingers popping the button before unzipping and pushing them down his hips, leaving him in his very festive red and green checkered boxers, as you discard your jeans and panties with the growing pile in the floor.

Turning his head back to you, he sucks in a sharp breath, easing his hand down to rub against himself.

“Eager, are we?” He teases, taking your hand to help you back into his lap, taking up the same position as before, only the thin fabric of his boxers separating you. He presses himself up against your already soaked folds, hands at your lower back as his hips grind up, eliciting moans from the both of you.

His touch becomes more possessive and frantic, easing under your sweater, dancing up your spine and along your ribs, teasing the underside of your bra as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He watches with hooded eyes as your back arches you further into his touch, breath becoming more erratic with each passing second. He roughly pulls your bra down, cupping your breast with his large palm, kissing back down your neck. Your hands grip the front of his sweater, throwing your head back as pleasure begins to course through your veins, when he pinches your nipple between his thumb and finger a moan, louder than the one before is ripped from your chest.

“That's it angel, love to hear those pretty sounds you make. S'just us out here, you can be as loud as you want.” He says in-between peppered kisses across your bared throat, easing his hand down between your splayed legs.

His fingers slide across your slick lips, teasing your entrance. The moment his thumb brushes across your swollen clit, your hips jolt, eliciting another high-pitched moan from you.

“Need your Steve!” You cry out.

“I'm right here, honey. Right here.” He curls his arm tighter around your waist, inserting a finger.

“No!” You breathe out, as he stills his movements.

“No?” He asks, looking up at you with furrowed brows.

“Need your cock.” Pushing at his boxers, with a whine. He chuckles, removing his hand from you to grab your wrists but who was he to deny you? Not when you were perched on his lap looking like a literal ethereal being.

“Okay, angel.” He kisses your forehead. “Ease up for me.”

You do so, allowing him to push his boxers down his hips, his girthy cock standing at attention.

“Ready, angel?” He asks, taking in a ragged breath of his own, before you nod.

“Good girl.” He coos, lining himself up at your entrance. “Just take your time. No rush.” His hand eases up your thigh.

You start to sink down, jaw going slack, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes when his thick tip breaches, stretching you open in the best possible way.

“Relax, relax.” You hear him say, hands gripping his shoulders, releasing a deep breath, taking him a bit further into your tight heat. “That's it.”

You continue to ease down his length, with gentle praises mumbled breathlessly against your skin, until you're fully seated on his lap.

“That's my good girl, taking me so well.” He hums, wrapping his arms around you, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Ahhhhh! Steve!”

“I know, I know. You feel so good, angel.” Coming out slightly muffled, letting you go at your own pace, though it's killing him, cock twitching inside you as he groans.

Your pussy flutters around him, finally taking it as a cue to move, lifting your hips at an agonizingly slow pace, feeling every inch of him dragging against your inner walls, pausing before dropping back down.

“Oh, fuuuck.” He moans out, gripping your hips, as you start to set a more pleasurable pace, adding rolls with your movements, catching that wave of pleasure each time that thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubs deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The outside world fades away between frosted glass and panting breaths. It's just you and Steve inside the cab of his truck, safe and warm wrapped in each other's arms, connected in the most intimate way. Your bodies slot perfectly together, melding and molding, crashing into each other again and again in perfect rhythm.

Your tempo falters the closer you get to the edge of release, but he's there to catch you. He's always there. Your thighs begin to shake as broad hands start to aid in moving you up and down his length.

His lips part, watching as he disappears into your tight heat over and over, on the cusp of coming undone himself but holding back to see you fall apart for him.

Heated skin finds the frosted glass behind his head, shuddering as the cool pane meets your palm, leaving a perfect print before your continued movements drag it in indecipherable patterns, but a pattern that anyone outside would recognize.

“Gonna come for me angel?” He asks between labored breaths, feeling you tighten slightly around his shaft.

You quickly nod, too far gone to find your voice in the throes of passion. His thumb finds your aching clit, moving against you with measured precision.

That familiar heat rises up through your core, behind your navel, pressure building and building. Your whines get more high pitched, hands grasping at his sweater, wringing it between your fingers to the point that your knuckles have turned white.

He watches, with bated breath, steady praises stream from his lips, falling on deaf ears, your brain no longer registering the words. He sounds so far away but he's right here, beside you, under you and inside you.

The tension finally reaches a fever pitch, like a cork exploding from insurmountable pressure, your orgasm crashes into you with a blinding force, knocking you senseless. You clench and tighten around him, legs finally giving out, ceasing their rhythm entirely as you come undone.

He grips you, bruisingly so, holding you in place as he takes over, thrusting up into you only a handful of times before he's spilling hot and heavy inside of your needy cunt, giving you all he has to offer. He holds you to him, grunting out as his cock twitches with the last of his sticky spend.

Your chests heave, back and forth, shared breaths in the space between you as your heart rates return to normal. No words were spoken, your bodies doing more than enough to convey the feelings you both have.

A lazy, dopey smile finds you when he finally lifts his head. Cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes sparkling with pure adoration as a soft “hi” escapes him.

“Hi baby.” You grin, with a breathy laugh. The absurdity of such a simple greeting after a complete out of body experience. Your lips find his, soft and slow, relishing in the afterglow for a few more moments.

He hums, pulling back, still breathless.

“We should head back.” He muses, eyes drifting out beyond the window, the snow still falling heavy around you.

You ease off of his softening cock, redressing in the quiet space, the radio playing lowly in the background. You take your place, pressed right in beside him as he eases back out onto the main road, snow already covering your tire tracks from before.

It was a slow ride home but neither of you seemed to mind, huddled together in the warm cab. Conversation flows, making the drive pass in the blink of an eye.

Once the truck was parked safely back in the driveway, he immediately hopped out, turning back to extend his hand to help you out, sliding his fingers between yours, guiding you both into the house.

Coats and boots were shed, outer gear exchanged for matching fleece pajamas. You emerge from the kitchen with an array of baked goods and made from scratch hot chocolate just in time for It's a Wonderful Life to start playing, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

“C’mere, honey.” He scoots over, patting the space beside him, lifting the edge of the blanket for you to slide in. And you do, handing him a mug, taking your own and leaning back into his embrace. The perfect end to a perfect night.

He brings the mug to his lips for a long sip, leaving behind a faint chocolaty mustache across his top lip, making you softly giggle before he turns, licking it away, his gaze settling on you.

His dulcet, sincere smile makes your heart flutter against your ribcage. Here in the twinkling lights and glow of the TV, a picture of what the future might hold was clear.

Steve had similar thoughts swirling around and come Christmas morning he hoped you would say yes right there in front of the tree.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Logan Howlett, the man you are. (Headcanons!!)

Minors, do not interact.

A/N: Y’all. I’ve been in a writing rut, but something about Logan- and Huge Jackedman, by extension- regaining his moment in the spotlight has gotten me back at it. Hugh was 1000% the reason I found out that I have a thing for dilfs, and let me tell you, I ain’t mad about it. To quote one author, who I can’t remember off the top of my head but wrote a KILLER breeding kink fic for Wolvie, “before there was Jensen Ackles, there was Hugh Jackman.” If you know me or my work, you know I’m a Jackles girl, but Hugh? Hugh will always get me going, whether he’s a ringleader, a robot shadow boxer, or otherwise.

TLDR I’m so in love with Hugh/Logan again. I always am, but I’m really on fire rn. Don’t worry, I will be continuing the 2SC series, but I needed this.

As always, all interaction, especially your words, is so very much appreciated!! I hope you like this one! Also, thank you for 120 followers! This account is maybe three months old, this is an insane milestone.

CW: it’s really just soft with a side of spice, the most flavorful being daddy/breeding.

-first of all, this man is a the biter.

-and it’s not always in a sexual sense

-he’ll just walk up to you and gently graze his teeth against your exposed shoulder or neck

-especially at night, after sex or not. He’ll be holding you close- you’re the little spoon ofc🎀- and just nibble on the juncture of your neck and shoulder while you cuddle into him

-honestly, it doesn’t hurt. And he only leaves marks if he wants to, ie when he’s balls deep inside of your little cunt OR wanting to remind the world who you belong to

-he’s just got a bit of an oral fixation is all

-speaking of which, he could be between your thighs for the rest of eternity and he’d be fine with it. He LOVES when you tug on his hair as he makes you squirm, only needing one strong hand to hold you down

-he goes feral when he sees you wearing his shirts

-loves to throw you over his shoulder and to play fight

-he’s interested in anything you’re interested in

-mans can’t cook to save his life but adores watching you and “helping”

-aka being all up in your business when you’re literally just trying to chop an onion

-he can be clingy. Not in a whiny way, in a playfully annoying way.

-will always find a way to make you late to anything. Sometimes it’s for the sake of a quickie, other times it’s because he wants one more kiss or to see the last five minutes of whatever show you guys watch together

-if you’re into daddy, he’s into daddy. Especially if you’re significantly younger than him

-he likes to squish you- your boobs, tummy, ass, wherever. He loves your body for what it is and loves you

-this man is so in love with you, by the way

-he’s old as hell but if you teach him how to text he’ll text you sporadically throughout the day. Sometimes it’s really blurry, almost impossible to decipher, pictures of things that remind him of you, other times it’s “When will you be home?” even though he’s already called you to ask four times. That’s mainly on his days off though- if he’s not doing something or you then he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

-that’s not to say he’s not always thinking of you. On missions, wherever, you’re the first thing in his mind. Give him a locket with a picture of the two of you and chances are he’ll wear it forever

-oh back to the other one he totally texts like an old man. If you try to use slang, or even just use “u,” you’ll confuse him so bad that he’ll think he’s in the future or that you’re speaking a different language. He also doesn’t like emojis, unfortunately 😞

-he’s got a sweet tooth. Loves to bake with you- he can’t cook but he can make a mean batch of snickerdoodles. No one knows why, and he’ll never offer any explanation.

-speaking of sweets that’s why he loves eating you out so much, because you taste so sweet to him

-and all of his nicknames are sweet based- sweetheart, sweets, sugar, etc- with the exception of darling which coming from him would put anyone on their knees immediately

-speaking of being on your knees he loves when you do it. Not as much as he loves eating you out, but he does enjoy a solid blow once in a while

-he’s a sucker for cockwarming, even if it’s barely sexual. Just as a way to be close. If you don’t mind him smoking he’ll smoke a cigar while you do so, and get into a nice soft headspace

-the kink of his that annoys him the most is breeding. He doesn’t want kids (unless you do, which is its own conversation. Personally I don’t so works for me haha) but when he’s balls deep, pushing you into the mating press, it doesn’t matter. Especially if you’re in a place where he can fuck you raw all the time- ie you take the pill, have had a hysterectomy, etc- then he will, and he will always spill his seed deep in you, mind filling with pictures of you all round and swollen and cute even if it’s impossible

-however it is hot when he gets in that headspace regardless of if kids are in the question or not

-hang on I thought of something else and then I forgot it

-uhh

-oh that’s it. Praise. Loves getting it, loves receiving it. If you’re more receptive to degradation he’ll give you that, but he loves telling you what a good girl you are

-also has a blast with brat taming

-anyways back to the soft stuff

-he loves domestic life. Curling up with you on the couch with fluffy blankets and snacks, watching rom coms and other cheesy movies

-he’ll rest his head in your lap if you’re drawing, crocheting, reading, etc

-he loves being petted. Your hands in his hair, tracing his muscles, whatever. It makes him so happy and it’s soothing for him

-and we all know how he’s mr gruff n tuff, right?? Well if he’s really eepy and lying on his lap while you stroke his hair, there’s an ever slight chance you can get him to purr. Don’t tease him about it, though, or he’ll get super self conscious

-if you like to workout he’ll work out with you

-he really likes to box to blow off steam, but if it’s with you and you’re not a fellow mutant it’s more play fighting than anything, but it’s still fun

-he’s a sucker for cheesy dates

-call him ‘Lo’ or ‘Wolvie,’ or any nickname that fits him. He thinks it’s adorable, and owns it. He also gives you like fifty nicknames of his own.

-he loves long walks on the beach if it’s accesible, hiking’s also fun to him

-he’ll never take his anger out on you, ever

-he loves reading with you, just sitting in comfortable silence with your respective books

-that’s all for now!!

If you have any ideas for ficlets or headcanons, my asks box is always open!! Xx

[littleredwolf]

Home for Christmas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve at the Avengers Compound and you and Wanda are busy making festive cookies for the team to enjoy upon their return from a mission.

Warnings: none. This is pure fluff/cosy Christmas content.

Words: 982

A/N: I wanted to have a go at something fluffy and festive, so I hope this ticks all the right boxes! Merry Christmas!

--

The snow fell in gentle cascades, blanketing the compound in a glittery shimmer that added a touch of magic to the view. Inside, the compound had been transformed into a festive haven, every corner adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, while Christmas music played softly over the sound system, mingling with the rich scents of sugar, vanilla, and freshly baked gingerbread. It was like a scene straight out of a Christmas movie, so cosy and picturesque. 

“I think we may have overdone it,” Wanda mused as the two of you stood at the counter to admire your afternoon's work. 

The kitchen sides were covered with trays filled with cookies of all shapes and sizes. There were snowflakes, gingerbread men, Christmas trees, candy canes, Santa, stockings, and even some questionable looking reindeer. To anybody else, maybe it was a little too much, but with a team full of superheroes to feed, you wondered if maybe it wasn't enough.

“I don't think that's possible,” you replied, straightening one of the cookies on the tray closest to you. “The super soldiers alone will get through most of these between them.” 

“I'm surprised you haven't made Bucky his own personal batch,” she said with a teasing smile.

At the mere mention of his name, your cheeks flushed and your chest tightened. 

It had been nearly three weeks since you'd last seen Bucky, he and a few other members of the team had been away on a mission, and while he'd sent a few texts and the occasional picture (one particularly adorable shot of him and Sam looking begrudgingly festive in Santa hats), you missed him more than you’d like to admit. 

The compound had felt strangely empty since he'd been gone, you'd missed his dry humour, his quiet strength, and the way he always managed to put you at ease simply by being there. Your bed had felt too big without him in it each night, and the absence of his arms around you and gentle kisses to soothe you to sleep had thrown your sleeping pattern completely off balance. 

The excitement of his imminent return had been bubbling all morning, making you so impatient and restless that Wanda had insisted you do something to keep yourself busy, hence the cookies.  

Now you were finished, however, the nervous excitement was returning, and you couldn't resist the frequent glances out the window to see if you could spot the quinjet through the snow. 

“You really love him, don't you?” Wanda smiled as she began to tidy everything away, sending the dirty utensils to the dishwasher with a wave of her hand. 

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating her words, then slowly nodded. Although neither of you had used the ‘L’ word yet, there was no denying how you felt. 

“Yeah, I do. It's different with him, Wanda - I can be myself around him without feeling like I have to dilute any part of my personality. I never thought I'd find someone who just accepts me as I am - even the messy, broken bits! He’s just, so damn perfect, you know? I feel like pinching myself sometimes because it feels too good to be true!” Your tone was light, but there was no hiding your insecurities from Wanda Maximoff - she knew you better than you knew yourself most days. 

She reached over the counter to squeeze your hand, smiling softly. “He feels the same way, you know. Anyone can see it.” 

Before you could respond, the compound’s security system chimed, announcing an incoming quinjet. Your heart leapt -  they were home! 

“They’re here!” you exclaimed, abandoning your work and rushing to the window. Through the snow, you could just make out the sleek shape of the jet landing on the pad outside. 

Wanda laughed as she trailed after you.“I think you’re more excited about this than Christmas itself,” she teased.

You turned to her with a thoughtful expression. “I'd say it's a draw,” you smirked, and she shook her head with a laugh. You turned to the window again, but the snow was so thick now that you could barely see a thing. 

“What are you waiting for? Go and greet your man!” Wanda urged, giving you a gentle nudge. 

You didn’t need to be told twice - you slipped on your shoes and dashed outside, forgetting to even put on a coat in your rush. The icy wind bit at your cheeks, but you hardly noticed as the quinjet’s hatch opened and the team began descending the ramp. Sam was the first to emerge, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Merry Christmas!” he called, waving as he approached and pulling you into a bear hug. “Now, where are the cookies?”

“It’s good to see you too!” You laughed, giving him a playful shove as you sent him on his way, your attention snapping to the next figure emerging from the jet. 

Bucky stepped out into the snowy evening, his eyes scanning the landing pad until they found you. His face softened instantly, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he hastily made his way down the ramp. 

You didn’t wait for him to reach you. You ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck as he caught you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of him - leather and something faintly metallic - wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“You’re freezing,” he gasped, brushing his gloved hand over your cheek. 

“I don’t care,” you replied, smiling up at him. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin mirroring yours as he cupped your face. “I’m home.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, filling you with so much warmth that it instantly melted away the agony of the last three weeks. 

Out of all the gifts you could have received for Christmas, being back in Bucky's arms was by far the best one.

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.

[dinogoofymutated]

Hello, I love your writing!! And the Kurt taking care of an overworked lover really melted my heart 🫠💕 could I ask for a similar prompt with Logan? He's my #1 X Men man. If this ptompt is too specific no worries, feel free to make it work within your own parameters- but I live with chronic pain/illness, so maybe it could be someone with a condition that flairing up and they refuse to rest/ask for help, making things worse, and Logan finally steps in, maybe scoops them up in his big arms and lovingly forces them to take a break? Logan has such a big protective heart under all his gruffness, and I think we need to see more of it in the Fandom.

💖 Love and Bless You 💖

Wolverine/GN!Reader UGH I love this request!! I hope it's okay that i didn't write about a specific illness, but describe a general chronic pain/mobility difficulty due to it. I need to write soft logan like this more often UGH- also, I was picturing the flirty Logan from Wolverine and the X-men here. He's infected my brain and I need more versions of him like that lol. TWS: Chronic pain/illness. flareups.

If there's one thing anyone knows about Logan, it's that's he's crazy observant, especially with that sniffer of his.

Sure me might not be able to smell when you're in pain, but I 100% thing that he just -knows- when something is off. It's like a sixth sense. Like you move in a particular way or eat your "fuck I hurt" food and he's on you like a goddamn bloodhound.

It doesn't matter how much you protest, or how much you fight him on it, he's not willing to budge when it comes to letting you rest- and if he can sneak in a few extra cuddles, or more time in bed with you, it's just a perk.

    Today has been a rough day since you woke up, and you knew it would most likely get worse. 

    You were having a bit of a flare-up. Well, you say a bit, in all actuality, it was an uphill battle from here. There was just something off the moment you woke up. Your joints were stiff and painful, everyday actions became a chore, and you were hurting much more than normal. But, if there was one thing about you everyone knew, it was that you were certainly stubborn. 

    You’re in the kitchen currently, resting at the table after popping a batch of cookies in the oven. Jubilee had been begging you to make her some sweet treats, and with her coming home from a rather long mission tomorrow, you decided to surprise her. Your body’s timing was… unfortunate, but there was no stopping you now. You were exhausted after making the dough, and rolling it into balls. After you had popped them in the oven you had painstakingly walked to the fridge to put the rest of the dough inside, muscles protesting each and every step. You had collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning your head back with a sigh, which is where you are now. You let your eyes drift closed as you wait for the timer to go off, relaxing into the seat.

    “Hey~” You jump at the sound of the voice, opening your eyes to see a smirking Logan, his arms draped across the back of your chair. You let out a huff, smiling at him. 

    “Hi Logan.” You say sweetly. One of his hands reaches down to run through your hair, and you feel like a cat as you eagerly lean into the touch.

    “How are you feeling?” He asks. You hum, grimacing at the question.

    “Fine?” You respond, an unsure tilt in your voice. Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Don't bullshit me, sweetheart. I know somethings off.” Logan rumbles. You make a face, sitting up from the chair as normally as you can as the timer for the cookies goes off.

    “It's just a minor flare-up. It's fine, I'm fine. I have to finish baking these cookies for tomorrow anyway, so I don't really have a choice.” You say. If he sees the way you stumble a little, he doesn’t comment on it. Logan watches as you take a moment before you open the oven, resting against the counter. You realize that you may have gotten up from the chair just a little too fast as stars spot your eyes. After a minute of rest, hyper-aware of Logan’s eyes on you, you go for it. You barely crack the oven door open before Logan grabs you by the waist.

    “Alright, that's enough.” He says. You yelp as Logan drags you away from the oven. He takes the cookies out quickly before he turns around and immediately throws you over his shoulder. Your yelp is more of a screech this time.

    “Logan! Let me go- what are you doing?!” 

    “I'm not gonna stand back and watch you do this to yourself. I'm taking you to bed.” Logan huffs. He’s already walking you out of the kitchen and into the other parts of the mansion as you hit your palms against his back, trying to convince him to put you down.

    “But- I- the cookies!” You cry out. Logan has already gotten to your door opening it as he carries you inside.

    “I got it. Now just- relax.” He says, plopping you down on the bed. The action has you a little dizzy, and Logan leans in to kiss you on the forehead before he tucks you under the covers. 

    “I'm going to go get you some water and vitamins. Stay. Here.” You don’t have time to protest before he’s gone, having shut the door behind him. You want to get up and chase after him, tell him that you don’t need any special treatment and that you were fine on your own, but you’re not sure you can really run right now- and the comfort and warmth of your bed and covers are calling you like a goddamn siren song. 

    You drift in and out of consciousness in bed until Logan is back, with a glass of water and vitamins as promised. He hands you a flintstone gummy as he sits on the bed, and you can’t help but snicker. Logan rolls his eyes, still having delivered vitamins as promised.

    “What did you do about the cookies?” You ask as Logan peels back the covers to lie in the bed with you. He pulls you close as he settles in, rubbing his hands soothingly across the parts of you he knows tend to ache the most. 

    “I put a new batch in the oven. I’ll smell them when they’re ready.” He says. You roll your eyes at him, resting your head against his chest. 

    “Thank you, you know. Not just for the cookies, but… for caring.” You whisper. He huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you on the lips this time.

    “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Just rest.”

[dreamingunderacloudysky]

Hello!!! Nice to meet you here!!

Requesting separate HC's for Anya and Curly with gn!reader who miss them so much even for 5 minutes that just make big plushies verison of Anya/Curly to cuddle with

S/O That crochets their partner while they're gone Anya, Curly.

A/N: Interesting prompt, I shall do it! Thank you for the request! Gave it an interesting spin!

For context, the reader crocheted both themselves and their partner so you tow have a crocheted of eachother.

Curly

Is super flattered when you email him a picture of a crocheted version of himself. He'd originally thought you just crocheted a little you for him when he went on the Tulpar.

You send him pictures of little Curly on top of your shared pet with a cowboy hat on, which makes his heart swell with joy.

Every time he has a meeting with the Tulpar crew, he'll use the meeting projector to show all the silly pictures his partner sends to him of mini curly.

One picture is Crochet Curly on the dog against a bunch of mini dinosaur figures set up in a formation; another picture is of the Crochet double with you and it on a swinging bench in your back yard.

Swansea and Jimmy scoff at it, but a small smile curls on each of their lips. Daisuke is asking to help Curly with photography ideas with his own Crochet setting the doll various places on the ship. Anya silently enjoys the little pictures and sketches some of them into her note pad.

When he's alone he'll go through and look at the photo war you guys have between your two crochets.

He really misses you

Anya

Before she boarded the Tulpar, you rushed up and pressed the crochett of you into her hands before leaving a kiss and running back down the railing.

Anya spent the entirety of Tulpar's launch carefully holding the little you in the palms of her hands.

Anya herself may not crochet, but I can tell you that she would be a killer at origami, and she folds little Tulpar coveralls for your crochet to wear.

When the first batch of emails from home came in, Anya clicked on the file you sent and had to hold a hand over her mouth as hot tears welled in her eyes.

Seeing a little version of herself in crochet resting between your fingers, in a little lab coat with a stethoscope around its neck. She wished she could take it all back and be with you instead of this space delivery.

Like curly, Anya takes silly pictures at work of your crochet doing various things like holding the butterfly needle while drawing Swansea's blood or posing dramatically next to the 'Yimpy' sketch on her board.

Anya has made little cartoon comics of adventures your two crochets would go on fighting aliens or the declarations of love that Anya herself could not say out loud.

Her favorite picture is you holding the Anya crochet while in bed with a bag of Wendy's watching terrible reality TV. The Anya Crochet is holding a fry in a chocolate Frostee, a habit that mirrors the nurse's guilty pleasure.

She knows the moment she comes home, she'll tackle you out of your shared bed and not let go for a good while.

A/N: I actually had such a BLAST writing this one! It definately strayed from the original prompt but I hope you enjoyed!

[illiana-mystery]

Sunday Funday!

[leoremin]

WOW HAS IT BEEN A COUPLE OF MONTHS!!! TAKE MY MALEVOLENT MEMES BC IM STILL OBSESSED!!!!

(based off that one CaseOh meme with him holding up the fanmail mug. Also, hope you like the new John design, I think this is one I'm gonna stick with bc I really like it :D)

I have no comment for this one except for that this stupid fucking meme has to be my favourite out of the batch.

I ALSO FOUND A NEW ARTHUR DESIGN!!! I looked up Clark Gable and based him off of that. Also yes, he's a blond, but I have a really cool reason for that, I'll post the comic later

Eh, not the biggest fan of this one, but it's alright I guess

ALSO!!! Have some W359 and TMA memes thrown in there too I guess.

(Sometimes I think I'm a comedic genius...I'm not...)

TMA if it were American.

Anyways, sorry for the disappearance. Not a great time but THIS TOO SHALL PASS!!!! WE'RE GOING ON GUYS!!! WE'RE DOING IT!!! LIVING ANOTHER DAY!!! WE'VE GOT THIS!!!! WE'VE ALL GOT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Literally all the original pictures are on Pinterest, except the Texas one bc I made that up...I'm truly sorry.

Anyway, I hope everyone's Christmas/Holidays are going well. Hope you've had lots of hot chocolate or tea. Anyways, now I've gotta type the tags for this so...wish me luck I guess.

Have a lovely day/night!!!

[snapewife-divorce-lawyer]

counting down the top 10 sexiest droids in star wars.

i’m 100% serious btw. this is based solely on my memory so if i forgot your fav, feel free to comment

#10

this guys from a new hope! now i must somewhat shamefully admit that this is based entirely on looks. but i mean come on look at it. instantly clocked it as a freek

#9

these annoying fuckers from clone wars. this goofy ass attempt to make battledroids more intimidating did at least produce a droid i wouldn’t mind coming home to every night. these guys are huge brats too. excited to see how that plays out in more intimate settings

#8

it’s just something about it. i can’t put my finger on. its so resolute and sinister, and yet it is not unlike a a wild rabbit. it’s delicate hands and big eyes make me want to care for it. i want this thing to call me mommy.

#7

the ferryman from the mandalorian. he is so dutiful. a powerful aura. he looks like he could hold me tight in those big strong arms

#6

i could fix him

#5

look we all knew this was coming. he’s powerful sexual presence it’s simply undeniable. the baddest bitch in star wars just barely beating lando. i’ve chosen the sexiest picture of him that i could find. enjoy.

#4

battle droids but specifically the ones with paint on them. i think these would have the closest analogue to human intimacy of any on this list. and even then, kissing them is an exciting geometric chalenge

#3

sexiest picture in this post by far. oh my god these look inside books. should i be tagging this as nsfw? this diabolical baddie even deploys one of my favorite droids ever. making her the only droid milf that i can think of.

#2

gonk droids. but specifically gonky from the bad batch. i think this one is probably the most indescribable. i can say little details like how he kinda reminds me of 80s computers and i love 80s computers, or how the simplest shape can sometimes be the best, or how cute it is when he kicks his feet in the air while he is being used for weightlifting, but none of it really adds up to how i feel

and the number one sexiest droid in star wars (and it’s not even close) is:

chopper. obviously.

dilf dot com. this guy has such an attractive personality. beyond words how wonderful his design is. one of my favorite star wars characters and one of the best droid designs

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[library-ghoulette]

Headcanons: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x reader who loves to bake

SFW, gender-neutral reader

Some cutesy fluff that I haven't been able to get out of my head all week. Because we've seen him go to town on that whipped cream in RHRN, we know this man has a sweet tooth.

He finds out about your hobby when you bring baked goods to a staff meeting or a Ministry potluck. "Who brought these cookies?" "Er, I did?" "So good... Did you get them at that little bakery in town?" "Oh no, I made them!" "You made them??"

He would never outright ask you to bake for him, but he can't help bringing up those cookies every now and then. Just... wouldn't it be nice if there were something sweet at the budget meeting next week? People would probably like that?

You bring a batch, plus a little box with a few set aside especially for him. You pass it over to him in secret so that no one gets jealous, and he falls for you, hard.

He becomes your go-to person to test new recipes on.

Loves to hang out in the kitchen while you bake, chatting your ear off the whole time and stealing little tastes of batter and handfuls of chocolate chips.

Wants to help, but you always end up banishing him to a stool a safe distance away from whatever you're baking. It's not that he's a fuckup, but he gets nervous when he's outside of his comfort zone, and that's when you get chaos in the form of dropped eggs and tablespoons confused for teaspoons.

Asks questions about what you're doing and seems genuinely interested even if he doesn't really get the technical aspects.

Yes, of course he wants to lick the beaters. And the spatula. And the bowl. Yes, it does send your mind to filthy places every single time.

Prefers brownies and cookies just slightly underbaked and gooey, warm out of the oven. He's impatient and hates having to wait for anything to cool down.

He's definitely one of those people who make nigh-pornographic noises when they eat something delicious. Exclamations and expletives, moans, praise.

He has so much confidence in your abilities that it borders on delusion. This is a man who will see the most heinous challenge on GBBO, one that reduces the contestants to tears, and scoff, "Heh! You could do that, easy!"

He's careful not to take your baking for granted or make you feel unappreciated. He knows what it's like for people to constantly demand more and more, and he's not going to do that to you.

Realizing that sometimes you get a sugar craving when you don't feel up to making anything for yourself, he teaches himself a simple recipe for those occasions. Yes, it's just a chocolate mug cake made in the microwave, but he's so proud when he makes it for you. He always adds a generous dollop of whipped cream and some of whatever sprinkles he finds in your stash, usually Halloween ones.

If you find some expensive piece of equipment or fancy ingredient or novelty cake pan that you want but can't justify buying for yourself, he won't rest until you let him get it for you. Or, if you protest too much, it will just show up on your doorstep one day.

The first time you make a birthday cake for him--pulling out all the stops with luscious fillings, homemade buttercream, fancy piping tips--he tears up. Just stares at it for a moment in shock before blowing out the candles. Barely wants to cut it. Insists that you get good pictures of it before he does. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him, and it makes him feel so, so loved.