#sure i can answer this in a single paragraph

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[inkedinshadows]

Lost in Submission

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: After you spend all day teasing Azriel, he grows very needy and very eager to be alone with you.

Warnings: smut, no plot, sub/dom dynamics, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: @callsigns-haze this one's for you <33 also, I didn't proofread it after final editing bc i was too eager to post so sorry if there are typos or anything else. This was originally a draft for kinktober but I had written only a few paragraphs then completely forgot about it lmao. I didn't want to wait till tomorrow so sorry for the late posting, now I'll go to bed cuz it's 1am ANYWAY enjoy babes love you all

You had been teasing him all day—heated glances in his direction, a brush of your fingers against his, purposely walking so close to his wings that he sucked in a breath every time. And when you sat on his lap after dinner, gathering in the living room with the rest of your family, Azriel didn't waste time wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck.

He didn't pay attention to the conversation. Mor and Cassian's banter, Feyre's quiet laugh and Amren's halfhearted complaints were nothing more than background noise. There was just the sweet scent of his mate and the soft skin where neck met shoulder, that spot he always liked to gently nip at.

“Azriel,” you murmured under your breath. “What are you doing?”

He trailed the tip of his nose along your neck, up your jaw, until he could whisper in your ear, “I want you.”

He didn't care if the others could hear, could see. You'd been driving him crazy all day, and now that you were in his arms, he wasn't sure he could hide how much he needed you. The proof of his desire was hidden from his family’s sight only because you were sitting on it.

“I know you do,” you answered sweetly, running your fingers through his hair. “But you'll have to wait, my love.”

Azriel almost groaned. “You've been teasing me all day.”

“That I have.”

Your sly smile made his cock throb in his pants, and by the way your eyes glinted with amusement, he knew you had felt it against your thigh. But as he opened his mouth to try to convince you, you shook your head.

“Pleading won't get you anywhere,” you said. Your voice was low enough that the rest of your family wouldn't hear it over the chatter, but your tone was firm, authoritative. “Now behave. Or I won't let you touch me tonight.”

It was Azriel's worst nightmare—having you lying next to him in bed, but not being allowed to touch you. Especially when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside you. So he nodded.

You just smiled, and focused again on the conversation.

Azriel tried his best to do the same, but he couldn't. Your scent filled his nostrils, your body pressed against his was a constant reminder of how much he wanted you, and then there was the way you would shift from time to time. To find a more comfortable position, you said, but Azriel knew your squirming around was another test, another torment.

Time seemed to stretch on forever until even his patience ran out. His hand on your thigh squeezed gently, and he brushed a kiss to your neck.

“Can we go upstairs?” he whispered. “Please, love.”

He felt your breath hitch as his lips touched your skin, but your voice was stern as you answered.

“This is not exactly what ‘behaving’ means.”

“I just… you're driving me crazy here.”

You sat up straighter, and it took all the self-control he had left not to moan at the pressure it applied to his aching cock. He was so desperate that he could spill in his pants like a little boy if you did that again.

“So it's my fault you can't wait a little longer?” you asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“You teased—”

Azriel drew up short as he realized his mistake. Of course it was his fault. If he grew restless in his desire to touch you, to kiss you, to have you, then it was his problem. But you didn't give him time to apologize.

“You know what happens if we go upstairs now, don't you?” you murmured, slow and deliberate. Despite your cool voice, the corner of your lips twitched upward, just slightly, a barely visible tick that was still enough to make Azriel's wings rustle in anticipation.

“Yes,” he whispered softly. “I do.”

Now your lips curled into a tantalizing smile. “Good. Then you can winnow us there.”

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t say goodnight to the others, he didn’t wait for you to do it. No, as soon as you gave him permission, Azriel’s shadows curled tight around the two of you and winnowed you away.

He was holding you in his arms when you appeared in your shared bedroom, and he gently positioned you on the edge of the bed as if worried you might break. Then he just stood in front of you, shadows gone and wings tucked tight behind his back, waiting for you to speak.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes lingering on the straining bulge in his pants. Azriel had to restrain himself from shifting on his legs in a useless attempt to create some friction. He needed your hands on him, your mouth, your whole body moving against his. But he had misbehaved, and he knew he was going to pay for it.

Your gaze finally met his hazel eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. When you spoke, your voice was low and teasing. “Touch or be touched?”

Azriel could only stare at you with wide eyes. He had expected you to tease him some more until he was begging for more, to give him instructions on what to do and maybe even tie him to the bed with his own shadows. But his usual companions had vanished the moment he'd winnowed you, and he hadn’t considered that you might make him choose between touching you or being touched by you.

He opened his mouth to answer, but immediately closed it again.

You gave him an amused look as you waited for him to decide.

Just a moment ago, he had been desperate for your touch and the release only you could give him. He still was. But when faced with the choice between his pleasure and yours… he didn’t care how desperate he was. He would always choose you.

And you knew it too.

Before he could try to answer again, you leaned back on your hands and spread your legs in a silent invitation. A command you didn’t need to voice.

Azriel dropped to his knees. His fingers found the button of your pants and quickly undid it. As he slid your trousers down your legs, you pulled off your shirt and tossed it aside.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as his hands rested on the back of your knees. You were wearing a simple set of black lingerie, but you looked ravishing. Your soft skin was so inviting, the swell of your breasts calling to him, but the scent of your arousal reached his nose, diverting his attention to the panties still concealing your sex.

He didn’t know where to start and which part of your gorgeous body to touch first, but he knew he couldn’t leave you waiting. He didn’t want you to risk changing your mind and denying him the chance to worship you.

Eventually, Azriel reached for your bra, swiftly undoing the clasp as his lips trailed along your collarbone. He felt your shiver, but before he could take one of your perky nipples into his mouth, you clicked your tongue.

“Not my tits, Azriel.”

He looked up at you, brows slightly furrowed. “But you said I could—”

“I never said anything,” you replied with a smug smile.

Azriel was about to reply, but he held back. You were right, of course. You hadn't actually told him to touch you—or where. And you had spread your legs, which meant that was where you wanted him. He should have understood it earlier.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, settling down on his knees again, scarred fingers already hooking into the waistband of your panties. “You're right, my love.”

You lifted your hips to help him take off the flimsy material, but just as his eyes settled on your cunt, you gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. “Now you're being a good boy,” you hummed. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

His eyes lit up, heart beating faster at the prospect of whatever you were going to give him. If admitting he was wrong and you were right was all he had to do to earn your praise and your reward, then he'd gladly be wrong for the rest of his life.

You tugged his chin forward, and he eagerly followed, leaning in just as you leaned down. Your thumb brushed over his bottom lip and his lips parted in response. He held his breath, wondering what your next move would be.

You held his gaze for a few seconds, enough to let anticipation build in his chest, and just as he was about to squirm, you finally kissed him.

Your lips were soft and warm, moving against him as they'd done a thousand times before, yet it sent a thrill through his body every single time. You deepened the kiss, claiming his mouth and brushing your tongue against his. Azriel couldn't stop the small moan rising in his throat at touch, the sound quickly swallowed by your kiss. But then you pulled away, leaving him breathless and wanting.

Your hand released his chin, yet he tilted his head toward you as if to chase your retreating mouth.

You placed a finger against his lips as if to shush him. “That's not how it works,” you scolded, though your tone was amused. “You have to earn it first, pretty boy.”

And earn it he would.

Azriel's gaze dropped to your pussy, the delicate flesh just begging him to lick it, to taste it until you were utterly, completely satisfied.

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed and hold you open. And then he dove in.

You gasped softly at the first stripe he licked up your slit, and he groaned as your sweet arousal coated his tongue.

From that moment, Azriel lost himself in you.

He was aware of every little twitch of your hips, every sigh, every breathy moan that left your lips. Your fingers tangled in his curls, stroking his hair back from his forehead so you could hold his gaze while he feasted on you. And fuck if he didn’t love the way you looked down at him.

He knew your body as well as his own—if not better. He knew you would breathe a little more deeply when he pressed the flat of his tongue against your core, that your delicate walls would pulse around it when he pushed it inside, and that your eyelids would flutter every time he closed his lips around your clit and gently sucked. And the little sounds coming from you… Azriel felt his cock throb in the restraint of his pants.

“That’s it,” you breathed, shifting slightly to rock your hips against his face. “Don't stop...”

As if Azriel ever would.

Your words only spurred him on, and his grip tightened on your thighs. He lapped and licked and sucked like he was starved and only you could satiate his hunger, every cell in his body craving more of your praises, more of your soft whimpers and of your taste on his tongue.

He flicked your clit a few times, and then there it was—his favorite moment. Your moans grew louder, your fingers twisted and pulled on his hair, and you leaned back on one hand to have more leverage and grind your hips more insistently. But your eyes never left his, your heated gaze meeting his adoring one.

“Azriel,” you called, your voice firm enough that he almost squirmed in anticipation of the upcoming command. “Be a good boy and make me come.”

He was your good boy. He wanted to be your good boy forever.

He'd been waiting for your permission, and now that he had it, his tongue was relentless. He teased around your slit before sucking on your clit, rolling it between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you squirmed in his grasp. He felt your body tense under his skilled touch, and he smiled against your skin.

A gasp and a whimper—the telltale signs of your impending orgasm—had him pull you closer still, and then you shuddered.

Your thighs quivered and tried to close, pressing on both sides of his head as he continued to lap at your dripping cunt, swallowing every drop of your release with a delighted groan. Your eyes fluttered shut, and as much as he missed the connection, Azriel couldn't help but admire your blissful expression—lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed.

He'd done that. He'd made you feel good once more, and he wanted to keep doing it again, over and over until you were thoroughly satisfied. Pride swelled up in his chest, but too soon, your body relaxed and you tugged on his hair in a silent request.

Though reluctantly, Azriel pulled his mouth away from you and licked his lips clean of any lingering trace of your arousal. When he met your gaze again, you were smiling down at him, eyes bright with amusement and lingering ecstasy.

You simply crooked a finger, beckoning him to lean closer, and when he did, you cupped his cheeks and guided him to his feet. Your lips collided once more, the kiss passionate and hungry as you pressed your body against his. The feeling of your breast brushing against his chest, even with his shirt still separating your skin from his, had him growing harder in his pants, his cock straining in its confinement and pressing against your lower stomach.

He’d been so focused on you that he had almost forgotten his own needs and desires, but now he was aching, growing more desperate with each brush of your tongue against his. He was tempted to start grinding against you just to create some much-needed friction.

But then your lips trailed up his jaw, each kiss burning against his skin until you whispered in his ear, “You’ve been so good for me, pretty boy. It’s time for your reward.”

“Yes, please…”

The words were out before he could stop them, but you didn't seem to mind. He felt your low chuckle skitter down his spine, and your soft nibble on his earlobe drew a quiet groan from him.

Your hands slid to his back, undoing the fastenings of his shirt around his wings, your touch only fueling the rising need inside him. He shuddered and gasped when your fingertips brushed the delicate membrane, his wings rustling softly behind him.

“My love…” he pleaded, though he wasn't even sure what he was asking for. For you to do it again, maybe, but properly this time, not just a fleeting touch. Or maybe to undress him faster and let him bury his cock inside you so he could finally find his release. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with how desperate you had made him. But he didn’t care.

“Patience, pretty boy,” you murmured, your voice as sweet as honey. He was trembling with barely restrained need as you placed a kiss just below his ear. “You’ll get what you need. I promise.”

As if to prove your point, you undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. Your hand hovered near the straining bulge in his underwear, and he had to summon every ounce of self-control not to shift his hips those few inches and lean into your inviting palm.

You were testing him, and he knew it. He wasn't going to ruin whatever you had in mind for him just for this. You had promised he'd get what he needed, and he had no intention of making you change your mind.

He swallowed hard but stood still, his gaze locked on the center of your forehead. He wasn't sure he could hold back if he looked you in the eye.

But it was enough for you.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you removed his underwear. Somehow, you managed not to touch his skin, just the fabric. It only made him crave you more.

Once he was fully naked, your gaze drifted down to his hard cock with a knowing smirk. “Someone's impatient,” you teased.

Azriel's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move. His skin felt too tight, as if his body couldn't contain the intensity of his need. A bead of precum welled at his tip, and he was about to beg you to please do something, anything, when you moved.

You placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing him back toward the bed. “Sit, my love.”

He did, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, right where you'd been until a few moments ago. He let his wings splay out behind him, resting on the bed like another set of dark sheets.

And then he held his breath as you wrapped your hands around his neck and slowly straddled him while never breaking eye contact. Yet he still gasped when you settled on his lap and his cock nestled between your slick folds. His hands instinctively gripped your waist, but he knew better than to shift his hips.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” you murmured, reaching down between the two of you.

“Yes… yes, fuck me,” he pleaded, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Please, my love.”

Instead of answering him, you closed your fingers around his cock, drawing a moan from him. You guided him to your entrance and kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly sank down on him.

You only bit your lip and sighed deeply, but for Azriel, the feeling of your tight cunt engulfing him was overwhelming. He groaned as your walls pulsed around him, warm and wet and so deliciously tight, and his fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh of your waist.

“You always feel so good,” you breathed. “I wish I could keep you inside me forever.”

He wanted to say it back, to tell you how good you felt around him. Good wasn't even close enough. And if he could stay inside you forever, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

But you began rocking your hips before he got a chance to say any of that, and the only sound that came out of him was a guttural groan.

You didn't hold back. You fucked him, just like you had promised.

You kept a hand around his neck and one behind you on his thigh as you alternated between bouncing on him and rolling your hips. Either way, your rhythm never faltered, nor did your gaze stray from his.

Azriel wasn't sure how much he could take. His groans and pants soon filled the silence of the room, accompanied by the sounds of your body moving on top of his. He tried not to squeeze you too tight, not to buck his hips and thrust up into you, but despite his desire to be your good boy and obey your every instruction, he was struggling.

Having you ride him was heavenly. Your breasts brushed against his chest with every movement and he wanted to reach out and either squeeze them or suck on them, but he needed your permission to do either of those things, and he was already too far gone to form the words he needed to ask for it.

Each time you lowered yourself onto his cock and took him, each time your pussy clenched around him, each quiet moan and small sigh from you brought him closer to his climax. His groans soon turned into whimpers.

“I… I need…”

You smiled at his struggle to talk, at the needy note in his voice. “What, my love?” you coaxed. “What do you need?”

Azriel fought to keep his eyes open and on you. “Come,” he mumbled. “Need to… come… please.”

“You need to come?” Your smile only widened, and your movements grew more insistent. “You want to come inside me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” He nodded desperately, feeling tension coil tight in his groin. He wasn't going to last any longer if you kept moving like that. “Please…”

You leaned closer to him until your noses brushed. “Then you can come,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. “Come inside me, my love.”

Azriel didn't need any more encouragement. As you rocked your hips one more time, his cock throbbed inside you one last time before he found his release. He groaned and twitched beneath you, white spurts of seed flooding your cunt as he closed his eyes, letting the waves of undiluted pleasure wash through his body.

“That's it,” you praised softly, slowing your rocking to a gentle grinding. “Let go, pretty boy. Give it to me.”

He shuddered and trembled as you milked him for all he was worth. Yet even when he was spent and his eyes opened again and his grip on your waist loosened, you didn't stop.

You still moved, slowly, almost lazily. You drew him in for a kiss—soft and tender compared to the passion of the previous ones. Azriel was still panting, his lips sloppy against yours.

“Don't think we're done here,” you said when you broke the kiss. You let him rest his head against your breasts and threaded your fingers through his hair. “I'm going to keep riding you until you're hard again.”

Azriel was still lost in the bliss of his lingering orgasm. His answer was just a low purr as you stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer as he buried his face in your tits, a quiet whimper escaping him when you shifted around his sensitive cock.

“And then you're going to fuck me.”

He wasn't going to argue with that.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd

[allywthsr]

WRONG PERSON | (l.norris)

summary: you send a sexy video to some tinder guy, until you realize you tapped Lando‘s contact instead, you both help the other to finish what you started

wordcount: 2.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, talking about toys, details about masturbation, phone sex, dirtytalk

notes: inspired by this!!! Tell me what you think, I‘m still scared to write smut, hope you all like this🫣

You were working for Quadrant, it wasn’t like you were some important boss or something, you mostly dealt with customers and sometimes got to plan a video, but Lando still took the time and got to know you. When the whole team went out for dinner, Lando talked to everyone for at least twenty minutes, he wanted to know who was working for him and his brand.

There was no denying you found him handsome, everybody thought he was pretty, but you needed to hide your excitement in your panties whenever he was near you. Not only did he make eye contact every time you two talked, but he also smelled delicious, you wanted to rip his clothes off, the whole time he was near you.

But back to where you were now, laying in bed naked, at almost one am, with your phone in your hand. You were single and desperate, texting with guys from Tinder, who were not worth more than a quick fuck, but you were young and had your needs.

With your phone in one hand, and your left boob in the other, you recorded a small video, where you were squeezing your boob and moaned slightly. You‘ve been snapchatting with a guy you met on Tinder, both of you were horny and needed a release, so why not help each other? You quickly wrote a text to the video, to make it more seducing, ’ You make me so wet…‘ and taped on the slot on Snapchat where he was for the last few snaps, before you could double check that you selected him, you hit sent and threw the phone next to you.

While you waited for his answer, your hand slowly made its way to your pussy, circling your wet clit. With a moan, you teased yourself and kept stopping the sensation in your most private area. When you heard the Snapchat notification tone, you took your phone in your hand and only saw that Lando send you a snap, it wasn’t unusual that he would snap you, you two were streaking after all, but at that time was a little odd, because you were kinda bored and waiting for your guy to reply, you withdraw your fingers from your wet cunt and opened Lando’s snap.

With a gasp, you threw away your phone, the first photo was a normal snap, a picture of his bedroom with some series on Netflix playing, but when you tapped on the screen to exit the snap, a new picture popped up. You could see his hand holding his boxershorts clothed dick, he was hard and big, long and thick. He also wrote a little text, you had to read it twice, making sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, ’was this meant for me, babygirl?‘

You didn’t know what to do, so you did nothing for a few seconds, you didn’t feel horny anymore, suddenly aware of the cold air hitting your still-hot pussy. Should you reply and apologize, saying how you accidentally sent your boss a nude, and look him in the eye at the next dinner? Impossible.

You thought about leaving the country and starting all over again, where no one knew Lando, but that wasn’t a solution either, you had to face him and say that it wasn’t meant for him. But how can you get rid of the image in your head of his dick, the only thing that was roaming through your brain right now was how lucky his future wife would be. With a dick like that, she sure would be happy for the rest of her life.

You excited the snap and took a deep breath, what were you going to say, sorry I send you a nude, but your dick looks nice? No. It took you at least two minutes to think about it and when you took a picture of half your face and started writing a paragraph of apologies, your phone showed you an incoming call.

Lando Norris.

Shit. Your whole body tensed, you couldn’t answer, you just had to pack your things and go, leave London and Lando behind, but something in you didn’t want that, and after what seemed like hours, you did answer the call.

”Hey Lando, look uhm, I‘m sorry I sent you that video, it wasn’t meant for you, obviously. B…But thank you for responding, I mean that picture was nice, but I don’t think that this uhm professionalism between us should be broken. If.. if you want me to leave Quadrant, I‘ll do that.. uhm I’m sorry for sending you that, and I-“

”Y/N, will you stop rambling?“, his voice sounded like he was out of breath, you started shaking when you heard him speak.

”I‘m sorry, for rambling and sending you the video.“

He chuckled, ”Don’t be, maybe you could’ve seen by my response, that I wasn’t mad about it. Sure having your employee suddenly sending you a video where she squeezes her boob and moans, isn’t something I‘d expect, but you have beautiful boobs.“

You didn’t know what to say, so the only thing that came out of your mouth was a: ”Thank you?“, you could hear your heartbeat in your chest, the silence on the other line panicked you.

”But, maybe this is unprofessional of me now, but you left me in a kind of hard situation, Y/N. I bet you’re still wet if your fingers would slide between your legs, aren’t you?“

Your breath hitched, was this for real? Was Lando Norris, your boss, dirty talking to you?

”I..I don’t know, it was a pretty big shock to see you replying, I‘m not as horny as I was ten minutes ago.“

”Then I want you to glide your hand over your boobs and stomach, down to your pussy, I bet it’s pretty, and then tell me how wet you are.“

With a small sigh, you did what he told you, gliding over your boobs and stomach to your pussy, you touched your entrance slightly and felt yourself pulsating, you may not be as horny anymore, but your wetness said otherwise, maybe a part of you already found it hot that Lando actually replied to you.

”Fuck, I‘m so wet Lando.“

You heard a moan from the other line and some sheet rustling, ”Baby, I want you to touch yourself like you would do without me. Finger yourself, rub your clit, do whatever satisfies you. I‘m hard as a rock baby, I need to touch myself too, I wish you were here to do it for me.“

You did as Lando told you, rubbing your clit in circles and feeling yourself come closer to the edge, this whole situation was so hot, it turned you on so badly.

”Please touch yourself, Lando, I wish I was there to help you.“

”I could eat you out until you’re crying and begging me to stop because you would be overstimulated.“

Another moan escaped your mouth and slowly you let your fingers slip into you, which was no problem due to your wetness, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more, thankfully Lando seemed to know what you were thinking when he heard your unsatisfied moans.

”Do you need more baby? Are your fingers not enough, you need my dick to stretch you out?“

You let out whiny and breathy ’yes‘, this situation was so bizarre but hot at the same time.

”Do you have any toys, Y/N? I want you to use a toy on yourself.“

”I..I do.“

”Show me.“

”Can we switch to FaceTime? It’s easier, and I want to see you.“

Lando hummed and muttered a quick goodbye before the screen with the call disappeared, the only thing you could see on your phone now was the picture you took a few minutes ago, and before you could do anything else, the FaceTime call from Lando came in. You answered without thinking about it and you were greeted with a big and girthy dick, and your mouth watered a little. You held the phone up, so he could see your face and your boobs, which he commented with a quiet ’fuck‘.

”Show me your toys, baby.“

You quickly got up and propped the phone against your lamp that stood on the nightstand, while you looked under your bed to fish out the box with your toys. It wasn’t like you were some pornstar and had thousands of toys, but over the years you had collected a fair amount of little helpers.

By now Lando had switched back to his face, so you could see his little beard and his eyes, he kept biting his lower lip, while watching you.

You opened your box and grabbed the first toy you saw, a standard dildo, it was skin-colored and a bit longer and thicker than the normal ones. You showed it to Lando and he groaned, tilting his head back, ”Is that your favorite?“, he asked.

You shook your head and pulled out a pink satisfyer, it was a mixture of a vibrator and dildo, but it also had a clit sucking element. That one was your favorite, you had spent hours with this beauty, and it never left you hanging. ”This is my favorite, you don’t know how good this feels.“

”Tell me about it.“

”It’s so fucking good, Lando. This clit sucking thing? It feels like heaven, it gets me there within a few minutes, the fastest I‘ve ever had an orgasm.“

”I bet I could get you there faster.“

That statement left you with a smirk, only the thought of Lando going down on you, made your head spin, you needed that.

”I can see that you’re imagining it right now, I bet you taste amazing, I would finger you, while lapping at your clit, you would be so full.“

You shut your eyes, and whined, your pussy clenching around nothing.

”What else do you have in there?“

”I have a wand“, you lifted the typical wand and dropped it on the bed, ”I also have a rabbit vibrator, and this“, you lifted another pink vibrator, but this one was smaller.

”You know what this is for, Lando?“

”I‘ve seen it in porn“, he smirked, ”have you ever let someone control it while being somewhere public?“

You nodded, it was a vibrator that you would insert into your pussy and it could be controlled with an app, you‘ve only used it once with someone.

”I was on a date with someone from Tinder, and we‘d been sexting for days and I gave him the app and he controlled it over dinner, it was an experience and I loved it.“

”I want to control it in our next meeting, seeing you tremble over some video ideas is going to be fucking hot.“

Another wave of pleasure rushed through your body, you couldn’t believe you were talking that way with your boss, unbelievable.

”I want you to use that rabbit on you.“

You chuckled, and held the rabbit vibrator into the camera, ”This one?“

Lando nodded eagerly, with a smirk you opened your mouth, dared your tongue out, and licked a long stripe over the part that goes inside of you. After a few licks, you put it fully in your mouth and started sucking it.

You could see how Lando started touching himself again, his eyes closed every now and then and he let out small whimpers. This was your sign that you needed to touch yourself too, so you laid on the bed and flipped the camera to your lower part, where the vibrator was circling your clit. Lando also flipped the camera and you saw his dick that was already leaking pre cum, he moved his thumb over his tip every now and then while moving his cock through his fist, collecting the white fluid. Due to your wetness, the vibrator slipped inside of you with ease, you turned it on and gasped when you felt the vibrations.

”Do you like that? Having your pussy stuffed.“

”Yes, Lando, yes. I need you here next to me.“

”I need you too, wrapped around my cock, you would be screaming and keeping up the neighbors all night.“

With a loud moan, you could feel yourself getting closer to a release, the tip edging your clit made you almost scream and the way you moved the vibrator in and out of you, made you see stars. Lando also was about to cum, he saw that your pussy got wetter and wetter, your fluids squeezing out of your cunt every time the vibrator left it.

”I’m about to cum, Y/N. Show me your face, are you cumming soon?“

You moaned loudly again and flipped the camera, just like Lando did, “Yes, Lando, I wish it was you filling me so well.“

With a loud moan and a lot of curses, Lando spilled his cum all over his hand and stomach, he quickly flipped the camera again, now showing you the mess he created, “That’s all for you, baby, I wish it was inside of you instead on the stomach. Cum for me Y/N, let go.“

While he said those words to you, you felt yourself falling over the edge, with moans and grunts. Lando was sure he never heard something so sexy, those sounds alone made him horny again, he needed to feel you close.

When both of you came down from your highs, you two let out a laugh, realizing what you just did, you had phone sex with your boss, but it felt right and good, and the way his cum sat on his stomach, made you horny again, you needed him.

“You feeling better now?“

“Lando, you’ve no idea, so much better than the weird Tinder guy the video actually was for.“

“I bet, but I still need you, Y/N.“

“Are you in London?“

He hummed.

“Well, my bed is cold without you in it, if you want, my pussy is ready for you, Lando.“

“Send me your address, I’ll be over in ten minutes, you better not start without me, or you’ll get punished.“

Part two

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg

[uconnic]

Everywhere, Everything - Pazzi

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

summary: paige helps azzi navigate through her rehab process and they finally meet up again in person. not sure if this was what everybody was looking for in this chapter, but it felt needed for what's to come. it's a bit short and sorry for the wait but hope you enjoy!!

part 1 part 2

word count: 2.2k

Everywhere, Everything: Part 3

They Got Their Own Thing

Paige didn’t answer right away.

She reread Azzi’s message – twice. Then a third time. The words blurred slightly, as if they were something sacred, not meant to be consumed too quickly.

“Thank you, Paige. And of course I remember you, superstar. How could I not? 💗”

She let the phone rest on her chest, staring at the ceiling of her darkened bedroom, heartbeat uneven. It was ridiculous – how a single message from someone she barely knew could make her feel like she could finally exhale.

She typed, deleted, typed again. Eventually, she sent a picture.

It wasn’t one she normally showed people. She was waist-deep in a therapy pool, hair slicked back, visibly crying behind a pair of fogged-up goggles. It was raw. Unfiltered. Taken by her mom on a particularly brutal day in month three of her recovery.

Attached was the message, “that was me. 7am hydrotherapy. my knee throbbed so bad i couldn’t see straight. i think i told my mom i hated her that day. still feel bad about that.”

It was a strange way to start a conversation, but Azzi didn’t hesitate. “I’ve thrown a resistance band at my physical therapist twice now lol. He still says I’m his favorite tho 😂”

Paige smiled. It wasn’t long before their messages turned into conversations – real ones. Long, meandering, sometimes vulnerable, sometimes simply stupid. They talked about knee braces and scar cream, about which podcasts made rehab tolerable, about their least favorite exercises (Azzi hated wall sits while Paige hated – well, apparently everything).

But it didn’t stop there. They talked about everything.

Sleep. Or lack thereof. Paige confessed that she hadn’t had a full night of rest in over a year. Azzi admitted she sometimes stared at the ceiling for hours, her mind replaying every play, every jump, every pivot – trying to find the moment it all slipped. She would take melatonin just to quiet her own thoughts.

They talked about pressure. How the second you were “the next big thing,” everyone stopped treating you like a kid. Paige told her about the time a scout cornered her after a game and asked if she was “finally ready to stop being cute and disrespectful to opponents and start being a leader.” Azzi said someone once told her her smile would “only get her so far” in the sport.

“Do you ever feel like people are waiting for you to mess up?” Azzi wrote one night.

“yeah. like they want you to fail. just so they can say they were right about you.”

There was a pause. “Same.”

The texts became a lifeline. Whenever the world felt heavy, they reached for each other. And slowly, something shifted. Paige noticed herself waiting for Azzi’s messages. Checking her phone more. Feeling lighter every time her name lit up the screen. She hadn’t meant for it to happen – whatever this was. But she also wasn’t fighting it.  

Two weeks after their first message, Paige hesitantly sent her number.

“texts are easier than dms. unless you’re one of those people who still uses android 😬”

Azzi grinned at her screen. “1. I’ve never been more offended in my life and 2. What took you so long?”

Their texts naturally became imminent parts to their daily routines. Sometimes Paige would wake up to a two-paragraph rant from Azzi at 3am and respond hours later with a photo of her breakfast and a caption like, “you’re insane. also you’d think i would have mastered smoothie-making by now. this tastes disgusting.”

They talked about everything vulnerable to do with rehab. Azzi confessed she was scared to push herself too hard. That every time she landed from a jump, she couldn’t help but hold her breath and brace for the worst.

“What if I just… never feel like myself again?” she asked once.

Paige sat with that message for ten minutes before responding. “then we find a new version of you. an even better version than you already are. one who doesn’t have to be fearless all the time.”

Another night, Paige admitted something she’d never said aloud. “i think i used to judge my own worth by how many points or assists i put up in a game. like if i didn’t hit 20, i wasn’t enough. that no school would want me and nobody would take me seriously. i hated that.”

Azzi responded almost instantly. “I think I still think that.” There was a long pause. Then: “Or at least… I did. Until you started texting me.”

The vulnerability hung between them like it was the first time the had ever admitted these things aloud, and it was.

For months, while texts and phone calls came often yet, they hadn't yet FaceTimed. Not until one night – three months after their first exchange. Azzi called. No warning, just a ring.

Paige answered, expecting a joke, a meme, something stupid. Instead, she saw Azzi’s face on the screen, eyes wet, lips quivering. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible. “I can’t find my rhythm,” she whispered. “It’s like I’ve lost everything. I shoot and it doesn’t feel right. Like my body’s betraying me. I can’t even pivot without overthinking it.”

Paige blinked, sitting up straight in bed. “Azzi-”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” she choked out, wiping her face furiously. “I go to the gym, I do all the right things, and it’s like… nothing clicks. Like I’m going through the motions just to prove to everyone else that I’m trying. My parents think I’m improving… And maybe I am. But it never feels like it.”

She stopped. Lowered her eyes. “But I’m not okay, Paige. I’m really not okay.”

Paige didn’t speak right away. She just watched Azzi cry – like really cry – for the first time. Unfiltered. Vulnerable. Completely lost in who she was meant to be. 

Paige comforted Azzi for the rest of the night. Knew exactly what to say every time Azzi countered with another cloud of doubt. Talked her down until her breathing steadied again. Whispered, “We’ll get through this, I promise” until Azzi eventually fell asleep. 

And as she watched her friend through the screen, something inside her moved. Without thinking, she whispered, “Good night, Azzi" and ended the call.

Thirty seconds later, she was texting Katie Fudd.

“hi Mrs. Fudd. i hope this isn’t weird that i’m texting you. i know we’ve talked on the phone a bit before, but this is a first. i don’t want to overstep, but i don’t think azzi’s doing okay and i know what that looks like because i’ve been there. i wanted to ask if you would would be open to me visiting? just to stay with her for a few days or a bit longer to be there for her. i really think i can help and that she just needs someone who understands. if not, i completely understand. we haven’t even met in person before so it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Katie responded five minutes later.

“Paige, if your parents are okay with it, we would absolutely love to have you here any time. You’re a good kid and I know how good of a friend you’ve been to Azzi. Let me know when you book your flight and I’ll be sure that Tim or I can free up our schedules to pick you up from the airport.”

“will do. thank you so much, i’ll see you soon. also, could you maybe not tell azzi? kind of want it to be a surprise.”

“Of course, Paige. See you soon.”  

------

Three days later, Paige landed at Ronald Reagan National Airport with a backpack, duffel bag, and a stuffed unicorn that she picked up from the gift shop. 

Katie and Azzi was waiting for her at baggage claim. Azzi was about to start complaining about why she had to come with her mom to the airport (she was told they were just picking up her grandparents) when she and Paige locked eyes. Smiles bloomed on both of their faces. There were no cameras. No fanfare. Just two teenagers who had grown impossibly close without ever really sharing the same space.

They didn’t hug right away. They just stood there, staring, both of them a little awkward and breathless.

“Hey,” Paige said, adjusting her backpack and handing over the unicorn. "I saw this at the gift shop and thought you'd like it."

“Hey,” Azzi replied, looking at the stuffed toy. "I love it, thank you."

Paige laughed softly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re shorter than I remember.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “And you’re exactly as annoying as I expected.”

Then they hugged. And something settled. That week changed everything.

They trained every morning. Paige designed mini workouts tailored to Azzi’s comfortability – closeouts, spot-up drills, form shooting, balance exercises. They watched film together, breaking down footwork frame by frame. They talked late into the night. About fear. About the mental part of recovery. About the anger of being forgotten, the resentment toward teammates, coaches, and schools who moved on too fast and too easily.

Paige didn’t try to fix Azzi. She just listened. And in turn, Azzi stopped pretending.

Slowly, the rhythm returned. Not perfectly. Not every day. But in moments. A clean crossover. A fluid step-back. A jumper that didn’t just swish, but sang for the entire world to hear. The two learned everything about one another on the court. Began to notice each other's tells, knew exactly where the other wanted the ball to end up. Paige made perfect passes to spots on the floor before Azzi even got there. Azzi screened for Paige as she curled around perfectly for a midrange. It was as though they had studied playbooks of each other beforehand for an exam and had passed with flying colors. 

By the second week, Katie and Tim found them on the driveway, playing one-on-one at sunset, both of them laughing so loud it echoed across the yard.

“First to eleven,” Paige said, spinning the ball on her finger.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Loser has to do dishes for a week.”

“Neither of you ever does the dishes,” Katie chimes. 

“Fine. Loser starts doing the dishes.”

“You’re on.”

They were tied 10-10 when Paige hit Azzi with a hesitation step, then drove left. Azzi cut her off perfectly and stripped the ball away. Paige didn’t care, because in that moment, she saw a glimpse of the same Azzi she was mesmerized by all those months ago at North Tartan. Not just in the way she moved, but in the way her eyes lit up from making a good play.  

“God,” Paige gasped, shaking her head in awe. “You’re back.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just smiled, raised an eyebrow, and nailed the game-winner right in Paige’s face. 

Paige threw her hands up in surrender. “Okay, Fudd. I see you.”

Tim and Katie watched with soft smiles from the porch as they saw their daughter’s love for basketball creep back in. 

Later that night, Azzi sat on the couch with her knees folded under her, head resting on her arms. Paige sat across from her. “I was really gonna quit,” she said softly, tracing circles with her finger on the carpet. “Like… I meant it. I was done.”

Paige didn’t say anything.

Azzi looked up to meet Paige's eyes. “But then you messaged me... You saved me, Paige. Probably more than you’ll ever realize. And I'm gonna sound so stupid for saying this because I wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for my injury, but I keep thanking God that it happened to me because it brought you into my life.”

Paige’s eyes were glassy, but her voice was steady. “You saved yourself, Azzi. I just reminded you who you were. Plus, I was just being selfish. You really think I was about to let the best shooter in the country go out like that? When I hadn’t even gotten the chance to play with her yet?”

The silence settled between them, a thousand words unspoken between them and yet, an understanding of one another deeper than they ever thought possible. 

—--- 

A week later, an envelope arrived at the Fudd house. Azzi read the first line and screamed: “USA Basketball invites you to try out for the 2017 U16 Women’s National Team.”

The whole house seemed to shift as they jumped in celebration. Her parents, brothers, and Paige celebrated as though it were their own major accomplishment. It was a letter that nobody had expected in the mail. It wasn’t that Azzi wasn’t good enough, but given her recent absence from competition, it had kind of become the safe assumption that she’d have to wait another year for her opportunity to prove herself again. 

Azzi barely had time to process it before Paige’s phone buzzed. A text from her dad, sent with a photo of the same invitation she had just received back in Minnesota. The house shook again – and it was funny really. The Fudds, who had really just met Paige a couple weeks ago, celebrated her news like she was one of their own.

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, stunned.

Azzi spoke first. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Paige smiled slowly. “That the universe might want us on the same team?”

Azzi’s eyes sparkled. “No,” she whispered. “That it already put us there.”

[allisluv]

blurb idea!! your children (two girls one boy) plan a dinner date for you and finnick! they have a table set up on the porch and a whole menu (5 and 7 year old’s handwriting) of gourmet meals (grilled cheese and tomato soup) for the both of you. they dress up in their nicest clothes while they play chefs and waiter. i can imagine desert just being two scoops of ice cream and a chocolate chip cookie 😭. but nonetheless, the children receive all of the earned extra cuddles and kisses before bed for their effort🤗.

grilled cheese and tomato soup.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship (duh), finnick and reader have three children (kai, cordelia and marina), set post war, not edited, minor angst at the beginning but it's only for like three paragraphs i promise, other than that, it's just pure fluff <3

word count: 1.4k

Summers are always warm in District Four, and beads of sweat roll down the back of your neck as you sit at your vanity table and slowly but surely add the finishing details to your latest project for work. The window is cracked open to let a breeze in, but even that in itself is warm.

Finnick is folding laundry and putting it away into the wardrobe. As the two of you work away in silence, you can hear the occasional giggle or squeal from your three children, reminding you that they’re fine in the other room.

You’re the first to notice that their laughter has seemed to fizzle out, and dread fills your veins as you pluck the pen from between your teeth and set it down on the table. “Finnick.”

He must take note of the panic in your voice, because he immediately stops what he’s doing. “Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowed as he maneuvers around the king sized bed and stops at your side. He tilts your head in his direction and coaxes you into looking at him when he tips your chin upwards. “Talk to me.” His voice is steady and even, and it helps ground you.

“I can’t hear them.” You choke out, pressing a hand over your heart. Every single instinct in your body tells you to move, but your feet are rooted to the floor. “The kids. I can’t hear them anymore. I can’t hear them laughing.” You gesture to the bedroom door that leads into the other rooms.

Finnick strains to listen, and he realises that he can’t hear them, either. Still, he remains calm; he knows that freaking out will not prove to be any good for either one of you. “It’s okay. That’s more of a mischevious silence that anything.” He teases, mentally reminding himself that everything is alright. Coin and Snow are both dead. There are no more games. They’re safe now. “Come on. Lets go see what those three are up to.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and grip his hand. Finnick squeezes once then twice, a silent reassurance that he is there with you.

When you don’t move an inch, he puts a steady hand on your lower back and steers you out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. The sound of childish whispering meets both of your ears and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in the first place.

Finnick offers you a small smile as he slowly feels the dread being pulled out of his body. “There. See?” He presses his lips to your forehead. “It’s all okay. I mean, they might burn the house down if we don’t go see what they’re up to, but they’re okay.”

You laugh and lean into his touch as he cups your cheek in his hand. He presses another lingering kiss to your forehead before using his hip to push open the kitchen door and stepping inside.

“Daddy!” Your youngest, Cordelia, screams, and abandons whatever she was doing in favour of running through the length of the kitchen towards her father.

Finnick lets go of your hand to catch Cordelia when she throws herself at him. Hoisting her onto her hip, he boops her on the nose, and grins when she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “What have you three been up to, hm?” Cordelia buries her face in the crook of his neck instead of answering, and he lets out a hum. “Something mischevious then, I’m assuming.”

You shake your head fondly and peek your head around the corner, where the twins, Marina and Kai, are wearing their best clothes and arguing over the George Forman maker.

“I should do it!” Marina protests, cocking her hip out.

“I’m older!” Kai retorts with just as much overexaggeration.

“By, like, three minutes! And you’ve never used the grilled cheese maker before.”

“Then show me!”

“You’re seven.”

“So are you.”

You laugh from where you’re standing and their little heads whip around so fast that you wonder if they gave themselves whiplash. “Technically speaking, neither of you should be using that. It’s too dangerous. And get off that chair before you break a bone, please, Mari.”

Marina does as she was told and uses her brothers shoulder to steady herself as she clambers back down with a huff. She stirs a pot with something inside of it, while Kai tries his best to distract you with his award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

Kai tugs on the bottom of your sweatpants. “Mommy.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Come with me.” He demands. You raise a brow. “Please.” He adds, and you relent, letting him take you by the hand and lead you out of the kitchen. He collects Cordelia and his dad on the way to the back door, and then he pushes down on the handle and opens it, pushing both Finnick and you out onto the patio.

Golden fairy lights have been poorly strung up around the wooden bannisters that allow you a bit of privacy and a linen tablecloth has been draped across the patio table. Two chairs are perched on either side of the table, instead of the usual five, and an unlit candle is positioned in the middle.

Cordelia’s chewing on her fingers, but takes them out of her mouth long enough to say, “Ta-da!”

You look around incredously, trying to take in the transformation of your back patio. “What’s all this for, hm?” You ask as Kai pushes you to sit in one of the chairs and then moves to do the same with his father. Finnick laughs but goes willingly, settling in the seat opposite you.

Kai stands up straight before shooting his little sister a pointed look and gesturing for her to stand up and get off of their father’s lap. Cordelia pouts but does as asked, sulking next to Kai. “We have made you dinner.” He announces.

Finnick arches an eyebrow and glances at you from across the table. You shrug, instructing him to go along with it. “Is that so?” Kai nods earnestly. Finnick leans forward in his chair, rests his chin in the palm of his hand, and indulges his son. “So, waiter, what’s on the menu tonight?”

Kai pulls a crumpled pad of paper out of his pocket and you stifle a laugh into your hand. Kai looks at you, not impressed in the slightest. “It is not funny, Mommy.” You school your expression and nod to let him know that he has your full attention. Finnick snickers. “We have tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

You gasp dramatically. “No dessert?”

Kai rolls his eyes, ever the moody one. “That’s a surprise, Mommy.” He says as if it was obvious.

“Oh, yes, silly me.”

Kai pretends to look at his non-existent watch. “I got to go.” He takes Cordelia’s hand and leaves without another word.

You and Finnick break into hysterics the second your children are out of earshot and you reach for his hand across the table. He brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses your wedding band. “Well, at least we can’t say they never did anything for us.” He muses.

You laugh. “No, I suppose we can’t.”

The both of you sit in a comfortable, loving silence until Kai, Cordelia and Marina come out with a bowl of tomato soup and a bread roll for each of you. Cordelia sneaks back onto her dad’s lap, robs his bread roll, and munches away on it happily.

Kai pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters under his breath about how, “Its impossible to find the staff these days,” before marching back into the kitchen.

“I swear, that kid is an old man reincarnated,” You giggle.

Finnick hums his agreement and blows on a spoonful of soup to feed Cordelia.

As promised, the next course is a grilled cheese sandwich that is practically as hard as a rock and disintegrating in your hands. Nevertheless, both you and Finnick reassure Marina that you prefer it that way.

Cordelia spills the secret on dessert, but the two of you promise not to tell Kai and Marina that you know. Both of you put on your best surprised faces when two scoops of vanilla ice-cream and two chocolate chip cookies are served, and the kids are none the wiser.

Finnick gives the three of them a well-deserved massive slice of chocolate cake and a mug of hot cocoa each for their effort. You and Finnick take them to the beach to burn off some energy, and when you come home, they crash out, but not before getting the cuddles and forehead kisses that they earnt.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Around 8 months ago (I can't believe its been that long either) you answered an ask about what Arthur Lester and his 3 bf's ideal positions were (top/bottom/switch), and, just out of curiosity, have you changed your mind at all about your answers? Or is John still a top, Oscar still a bottom, and Noel & Arthur both switches?

ITS BEEN THAT LONG ?!?!!?! good god oufghc anyway anyway- I think that has changed a bit and I’ll put my ramblings under cut bc well. there’s probably a bit more detail than you want out on your tumblr dash

okay Arthur hasn’t changed, he’s still a switch in my heart. I think John is still mainly a top, but he dabbles in switching positions. Like if someone realllllyyyy wants to top he’ll be like “okay :)”

Noel is definitely just a top, and he tried being the bottom once and was content to not try it again (even if Oscar was patient and gentle). Although he does top, he’s not much for penetrative sex. He has some problems getting like, physically aroused (also aforementioned preferences- he’s a bit of a voyeur, he’s got those monsterfucker tendencies, whatever the fuck he and the butcher had going on) and therefore likes to get creative with it. He definitely likes to have a bit of control during sex, not being possessive but just being in the lead.

Oscar is mainly still a bottom but I think he can switch it up if he wants because he’s hot like that. Im pretty sure this might directly contradict my earlier statements, b u t- it took him a while to be comfortable being the top, because he’s had very negative connotations with that position. He didn’t like the idea of the power imbalance during sex it could make, and that he’d be the one creating it. With enough patience tho he was willing to give it go with someone he trusted (Noel probably, and although that didn’t do much for Noel he was still great at giving pointers). Annddd I think that’s why I like bottom John and top Oscar together bc they’re going against their usual preferences and trusting the other to give them something they don’t usually get.

I feel bad for writing whole paragraphs for Noel and Oscar and jarthur just gets to share a single sentence um OOPS- uhhh o k a y

John! a switch with top preferences! he gets really aggressive with Arthur but that’s just because Arthur matches his energy. I think he also talks a lot during sex, mainly giving affirmations and praise. With Noel tho- if he’s still human then they’re just having a teasing match. Noel likes to bring out the flirt and get under John’s skin, and John is trying so hard to keep up without just being an ass. Monster John and Noel tho? all bets are off and they’re getting real freaky with it. John still makes sure to be careful and check in often incase he does something that might hurt Noel. And Noel’s like sweetheart I don’t caarrrrreeee pleaassseeee get those tendrils around me. And with Oscar he’s verrrryyyyy careful. Like he could most definitely get more rough with him, but he doesn’t want to do something wrong and have Oscar never want to be near him again. So he’s real gentle, placing more emphasis on foreplay and closeness than actual sex.

and Arthur! the guy I think about the least somehow! sorry king! a switch that is a horny little freak at heart. He’s up for a lot of things and will be down to try anything if his partner thinks they’ll like it. He’s definitely got more of a dominant personality, and I think that’s verryyy evident with, surprise surprise, Parker! Those two had some wweiirrdddd dynamics going on and thought of flirting and sex like some kinda secret game they both wanted to win. Arthur gets manipulative sometimes, but only if he knows the other person would enjoy it. I think since he’s aro, he’s got less romantic attachment to sex, and thus just really likes having sex to unwind or have some fun.

OUG I RAMBLED TOO HARD SORRY I’ll leave

[xxsabitoxx]

"Satoru, enough." you sound exasperated, tired eyes glaring at your laptop screen as you try to find another peer-reviewed article for your essay topic. However, you had to admit nothing was getting done and it wasn't only because of your boyfriend. "Satoru, enough~" He practically sang back to you, that same shit-eating grin plastered to his face. His hands were finding their way to your thighs again, only stopping when you would reach down and swat him away with one of your signature death glares. So, you repeated the motion again, slapping his hands off of you but not bothering to look at him.

"C'mon, sweetheart you've been glued to your laptop since you got home from work." He somehow managed to sound just as exasperated as you had. "Because I have things due, Satoru." It wasn't a lie, but the essay wasn't due for a few days. You could certainly afford to hold off on it for another day, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. "Yeah, well, I'll pay off the professor. I want your attention," he whined again, this time flinching when your hand came down to grab his wrist before he could touch you. "And I am busy, go bother someone else." the bite in your tone didn't bother him at all, if anything it made his cock twitch.

"You wound me." Satoru's hand came up to splay over his heart, head falling back dramatically as he looked at you. "Good." was all you uttered, the tension in your shoulders only adding to your aggression as you fought the urge to throw your laptop. Nothing you had tried to read in the last twenty minutes registered in your brain and one single paragraph was glaring back at you on your Word doc. Now add Satoru teasing the shit out of you every fifteen seconds... you were going to snap or self-destruct, it depended on Satoru at this point.

"Just take a damn break, you're getting bitchy." He smirked at you, watching your entire body tense as your neck nearly snapped with the force you used to turn your head. "Do you have a death wish, Satoru?" your jaw was clenched, if looks could kill, Satoru would be dead four times over by now. "I do, but that's beside the point. You couldn't lay a finger on me and have it cause damage." he sneered, trying to ignore the blood flow to his dick as you got steadily worked up. He wasn't sure if it could be classified as a kink, but Satoru got off on you being pissed. He craved your hand slapping his skin and your nails digging into his scalp. He would do whatever it took to get you mad just to see that adorable pout on your face.

You knew this by now, and it wasn't hard to miss the strain forming in his sweats. "You're sick and twisted, Satoru." You refused to close your laptop, giving your boyfriend one last disinterested look before your eyes settled on a random point on your screen. You wouldn't give in to his games. "You fucking love it." he moved closer, hand resting on your thigh and squeezing harshly when you couldn't move fast enough to slap him away. You gasped, body shivering at the sensation before you recollected yourself and tried to swat him away. "I'm serious, Satoru. Leave me alone." but Satoru was smarter than that. "You haven't typed anything worthwhile on that word doc. Let me take care of you, I can clear your head real fucking fast."

Your answer was rolling your eyes, earning a low rumble of laughter from your boyfriend. That was the nail in the coffin, you could only yell in protest as he snatched your laptop off of your lap and tossed it over to the chair beside your couch. "Satoru!" You squeaked, heart dropping to your ass as he flung the object. "Relax." was all he said in return, catching you while your guard was down and pushing you onto the couch. You let out a string of curses, awkwardly pressed face-first into the cushion as Satoru grabbed both of your wrists and restrained them behind your back. "Just relax."

[dastardly-imbecile]

TENEBROSITY

TW: suicidal ideation, depictions of death and grief

wordcount: 1.3k

masterlist, ao3

something something reader who dies. Doesn't particularly matter if she was a soldier or a civilian, if it was the blur of battle or the quietus of an accident, if it was a bullet or a blade or the cruel hand of Fortuna. Out with a bang, out with a whimper.

What does matter is that Simon, predictably, takes it not well. Worse that Price puts him on leave, and he has nothing to do but lay spread-eagled on the bed you once shared, stare at the ceiling and quietly thinks about the knives in the kitchen, about the pills in the cabinet. Not with any real sort of action behind the notion, but just the everpresent reality that they're there, that he can take the kind way out. The only thing that stops him, really, is that he knows if there is an afterlife, he sure as hell isn't going where you are.

Between the team's sporadic visits, Kyle's attempts to set him up with a therapist and Johnny's attempts to cheer the grief out of him and Price's attempts to have a normal conversation - as if normalcy exists, anymore - he takes to scrolling through your old messages. Little lines of text: years of love encapsulated in a single bubble, such small things. Messages that he once only spared a seconds' glance before responding, he now spends hours poring over, trying to find the secret to mortality etched into those pixels.

Still has your phone, too. Leaves your search tabs untouched, leaves your apps opened just as they were, just like your products still litter the bathroom counter, just like he put your half-finished leftovers in the freezer, cold and permanent as the dead.

It's not healthy, but he's never been healthy. Not a moment in his life: not his childhood, not the military, not now, in which there was not something, someone, searching for the best way to break him; best way to put those pieces back together and shatter them again. The only difference, this time, is that both are him: something about Ouroboros, something about Sisyphus.

He starts texting you again. Long, incoherent paragraphs about how much he misses you; simple love yous, all the hundreds that he never got to say. He could have told you ten times a day, for a thousand years, and he would still have so much more. Calls your voicemail, just to hear your voice once again, so he can pretend you're just out of the house, that you'll truly call him back 'whenever I'm able'.

Imagine his surprise when, one night, he sends a succinct, goodnight dove, and you reply.

I love you.

Of course, he's pissed: someone gets your number by some means, not only uses it - if they'd told him, fuck off, who are you, stop texting me - he could have has a modicum of respect, at the very least. But no: they imitate, they paint themselves in the image of a Goddess; something about Exodus 20:4, something about the Viceroy butterfly.

It pushes him into overdrive for the first time since you died - he pulls up the old software, hooks the phone up, tries to triangulate the location of the sender. All he gets, though, is a jumble of letters and numbers that apply to no coordinate on earth.

And then, you call him. Your name popping up drives into him an anguish deep enough to burn, moreso when he checks your phone, sees it just as inert since the day you died.

He shouldn't, but he answers.

When you say, "Simon," he's thinking about how he'd most like to kill these people: sure, get a number, hook up some voice changer, real convincing. It's going to fall apart when you beg him to send you a couple thousand dollars, or when you dig into him for some bit of intel: he won't be tricked, won't allow grief to break his last bit of dignity, sell his soul for a bit of false love.

And then, you tell him the last words you ever said to him. Same voice, same tone. Murmer more, as he sits there, shock dripping down every vertebrae in his spine. All the things you would whisper to each other in the dead of night. End your speech with a short, "It's me. I love you. I found a way..."

So for a week or two, it's almost enough: he spends every waking hour on the phone with you, sends you all the pictures he can think to take. It's fine that you never respond with any of your own. It's fine that, sometimes, on those phonecalls, you sound scared or sad or start halting, unfinished sentences with, I wish, or, if only. He can pretend that you're off on a trip, that this is some temporary fever.

Only, he can't, not really. Something about truffle pigs, something about pitbulls: something about the desire to dig, to sink his teeth into the meat of the matter and rip until bone is caught between his jaws. Whenever he asks you about how, or where, or, can I ever see you, you sound like you're crying while you deftly avoid answering.

Really, you have only divulged two things: one, you dying won't help. Two, when he visited your grave for the first time since your death: I'm not down there anymore, Simon.

A fantasy grows, some reversal of the five stages of grief, denial come last: he imagines that maybe you aren't dead, that maybe you were captured by some nebulous force of evil, are currently holed up in some dark basement. Got your hands on a phone somehow, sure, if it doesn't make sense then it will when he rescues you, when you explain it to him between kisses.

He gathers the rest of the task force at his - your - house, despite your pleas not to. Tells them. Almost relishes in Johnny's look of disbelief, in Price's evident concern - because he'll be proven right. Right, when he clicks the call button, when...

When it rings, and rings, and rings, and goes to voicemail. He swipes to your messages, but all are gone, all your responses wiped away to apepar one sided.

He's not a stupid man. Anticipated something like this, maybe - but the screenshots he took are nothing but black space, and the recordings of your voice carry naught but the sound of his own breathing, and before he can do something, anything, to prove this, Price has a hand upon his back and Kyle is saying something and he tears away, shuts himself in your room. Calls you four times, while they talk quietly outside. It's not until the fifth - after the front door closes - that you pick up.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I'm sorry, Simon, I... I came back for you, just you, came back..."

The wave of reality ebbs, flows. It's not all bad, eventually. Some days, he spends curled around your old pillow - which smells more like him, than you, at this point - while you whisper filthy words through the tinny speakers, rutting into the fabric. He tries to do the same to you, but you never make the same sounds you used to, and when he tries to ask about your body, your pleasure, you devolve into low notes of grief.

Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's worse. Something about the carrot and the stick, something about Tantalus, ankle-deep in water.

Something about the inability to move on: about you, stuck wherever you are, ephemeral, blind and senseless but for your voice. About him, hand perpetually upon the phone, ignoring the calls of his team, caught upon the half-death he's able to live.

About a hunger and a pinprick of light and the world as it darkens, the crepuscule of existence.

[i-cant-sing]

You know it’s kinda a good thing Baldwin and Salauddin didn’t live in the modern day with Tim traveler reader. cause can you imagine those two with cell phones?

Baldwin would be non stop texting. Every minute with new things to say to her. And it’s never paragraphs. No he’s texting single sentences at her.

Salauddin would be the worst to text. Like reader texts him a long paragraph about her feelings and he just comes back with “k.” And if she sends him pictures or anything he takes half the day to respond and even then it’s a dry one word answer.

ACCURATE😭😭😭😭

Cause imagine being in class or at work and your phone's just buzzing nonstop with Baldwin's texts, and you'd think it's because he has an emergency or in danger or something, but it's just him messaging you that he saw two pigeons today and they were cannodling and it reminded him of you, but then he got too jealous of the birds so he threw bread at them to scare them away. And there's a picture of him with the birds cuddling with the the text "aww! Miss u babe!🩷🩷" And then its followed by a video of him throwing bread canon balls at them with him laughing manically in the background and he texts "hurry up and get home before I destroy more animal couples🥰"

And then there's Salauddin and he's the driest texter ever. My brother could not for the life of him, keep the convo going and you could just be telling him the JUICIEST GOSSIP and he'd respond "Ok." And you would think that he just doesn't care about you enough to read your messages but in reality, you could actually quiz him and he'd tell you every detail to the T! He reads into your body language, the way you text, your tone, he studies you obsessively which is why he doesn't need to respond the way normal people do, lest you try to read between the lines and decide you don't like him. He just doesn't wanna give himself away. It's not that he's not good with words, in fact, he's an excellent poet! Salauddin would write the most loving poems for his beloved, but that's something he's saving for a special occasion, like... a wedding anniversary.

I also think that with phones and the technology, Baldwin for sure would keep tabs on you at all times! He's good at hacking, excellent at cyber security and breaching it. Besides, it's just sooo easy to get into your accounts, be just needs to make sure no creep is taking advantage of you.

As for Salauddin, while yes, he could have someone hack into your phone, he prefers to keep you safe by actually having professional bodyguards/assassins that are excellent at hiding in the shadows and being invisible to keep you safe from all the creeps when he's not around to punch them. Even when he takes you out on dates, that fancy restaurant is actually a safehouse of sorts. All the other customers there are hired professionals and their main job is to detect anyone who could target you or him. He has snipers on nearby buildings, ready to take care of anyone who tries to enter the closed off street to the restaurant with suspicious intent.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Hi! Firstly, thank you for creating this blog and helping all of us out! Secondly, and sorry if this is such a silly question, but how do you write an engaging summary?

I find my own fic summaries are so… lackluster… and not even I’m interested in reading it — so how I can I expect others to be? Even if I like my story, when I write the summary in the start of my fic/in my masterlist, I’m like “Wow… this is not even remotely interesting! 😭”

So yeah, I was wondering if you had any tips/advice for that? 😭 Totally fine if not, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks and have a great day/night! 😘

HOW TO WRITE AN ENGAGING FIC SUMMARY THAT WILL DRAW IN AUDIENCES

Summaries are the bane of many writers’ existences, including my own. It’s already hard enough to get the words down on paper for the actual story, and now people want you to convince them to read it with something more than “I WORKED REALLY HARD ON IT PLEASE IT’S GOOD I PROMISE!!!!”

Squishing a ton of context into a small blurb seems impossible, but I promise it can be done!

Obviously everyone goes about things differently, and a lot of these tips may not work for everyone, but nevertheless, here are some tricks on how to write an engaging summary!

Here’s a simple template I like to use, which will be the focus of this post:

Hook (Draw the reader in!)

Context (What are the core elements of your story?)

Cliffhanger (Introduce a question/scenario that the reader will want to click to know more about!)

1. Start With a Hook

Just like with the first sentence of a story, the first sentence of your summary should immediately spark the reader’s interest.

A bold statement! A good (short) quote from your fic! A shocking discovery! A cool word definition/the definition of your title!

I always like to put the hook of the story on its own line/paragraph, just to emphasize it.

Examples of a hook (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "It all started when Character A puked on their Uber driver." - "War was inevitable." - "Character A would be dead by sunrise. That’s what Character B vowed." - "By the time they got to the city, it was too late."

Your hook is probably the most important part of your summary; someone will know within milliseconds whether or not they will continue reading.

Once you’re past that initial hump, it’ll be easier to convince a potential reader to skim the rest of the summary. Giving something that jumps out at them will set your story apart from others and ensure it gets that click you deserve!

2. Give Some Context

For shorter one-shots, sometimes a single hook is enough! But if your fic is longer, with a bit more moving parts, you might want to choose a few highlights. Get the essence of your story on paper.

This can be super hard, so don’t feel discouraged if you feel like you’re not getting it. I’d suggest keeping your context to about 1-3 sentences depending on the length of your story, so make sure they count.

Buzzwords are a key factor in getting the main points across. Use ones that relate to your main plot to your advantage! 

For example, if I were to make a short summary of Game of Thrones for someone who has never watched it before, I would definitely include some of these buzzwords: - Dragons - Conquest - Succession - Revenge - Slaughter - Betrayal

Using powerful words (i.e. slaughtered instead of killed) can help draw in your audience!

I can't dictate exactly how you should write your context, since every fic is different and shouldn't be brought under an umbrella of the same rules, so it might help to find inspiration from other people’s summaries.

3. Pose a Question the Reader Will Want the Answer To

The biggest point of a summary is the “so what?” factor. You have all of these tags, but how does the fic make use of them?

A summary shouldn’t be giving all of the answers, but it should still leave crumbs for the reader’s imagination! This doesn’t mean that you literally need to put a question in the summary, but rather pose an unresolved scenario/problem that the reader will want to click to know the solution to.

Here are some example sentence templates that pose an indirect question, often put at the end of a summary to spark interest (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "Everything changes the moment Character A makes a choice they can't take back." (What is that choice? How does it affect the other characters?) - "As the truth comes to light, nothing will ever be the same." (What is the truth? How does it change things?) - "A dangerous game begins, and only one can emerge unscathed." (Who will be that person?) - “It’s the first time they meet, but it won’t be the last” (What will be these next instances? How do their worlds collide?)

4. Some General Advice

If you don't think the above format works well with your fic, here's just some general advice that can help you out!

DON'T MAKE IT TOO LONG

The biggest mistake I see writers making when posting their work is having a giant four-paragraph summary for their story that takes up half of the feed.

Unfortunately, in an age of fast swiping and instant gratification, a reader may skip over a super long summary simply because they don’t feel like reading all of it.

(The reason why long summaries work for books is because people are more patient when they intend on paying to read something; they’ll take more time considering investments than they would with a free read, since they want to make sure it's worth their money. It’s not fair, but that’s kind of how it goes.)

In my opinion, a fic summary should be no more than one short paragraph, two or three sentences max for a one-shot and maybe five sentences for a long fic.

This isn't exact. It really depends on the length and complexity of the sentence, because no matter the how many you use, if there are enough words to make folks comprehend it as a big block of text, then they’re going to be more likely to skip it.

People looking for long fics will be more patient (since they’re making an investment with their time, rather than money) but if you want to appeal to a wider audience that may be casually browsing and stumble across your fic, definitely consider a more brief route.

PROOFREADING MATTERS!

Because summaries are often an afterthought, many writers don’t put as much effort into it as they would the rest of their story.

I wouldn’t recommend this; people are basing their ENTIRE initial opinion of your fic on this small blurb.

If you rush it and make spelling or grammar errors, people will assume that the rest of your fic is also riddled with errors and scroll past!

Make sure to proofread!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[signanothername]

How do you see Nm's and Ccino's relationship? Is it different from canon?

Ngl didn’t expect people to be this interested dhdhhdhdh

Kay so, ngl, i’m still kinda refining how I interpret Ccino and his Au as a whole, so what imma say is just a few paragraphs of the gist of how i think of it so far dhxghxhxh

Nightmare found out about fluffytale and by extension Ccino through doing research of different AUs, as Nightmare has a tendency to study AUs to understand how they work and how he can apply it in his own plans/take advantage of them

The reason Fluffytale even caught Nightmare’s attention at all, was for 2 reasons:

1- the Au no longer has any Alternative timelines as there only seems to be one single timeline left, meaning, it’s the one singular unique Au, single main Au with no copies that illustrate different events, and the code of the Au seems completely corrupted, meaning the very concept of new timelines being created is impossible

Nightmare isn’t completely sure why every other timeline seems to have been erased out of existence and why the code is corrupted, but he guesses it’s Error’s work

2- the Au has a cafe which is open to host whoever in the multiverse, regardless of who they are, whether infamous for violence or known for their kindness, whether they are a person who’s part of another Au, or an outcode, it welcomes everyone, including his twin, and by extension himself

Not only did Nightmare see potential in having another set of eyes on the outside world and a great source of info, but even as a source of negativity considering the misery in that universe in general

Nightmare eventually visits the Au himself and watches the cafe from afar for a few weeks before actually visiting the cafe himself

Obviously, with the intent to make a “deal” with the owner of the cafe (Ccino)

Ccino is completely unaware of the state of his Au, thinking that other timelines do exist, and by extension, having a bit of courage to refuse Nightmare’s “offer” at first

Nightmare being the bitch who never takes “no” for an answer, threatens Ccino that he will destroy his Au, and kill his family, and let him watch it happen, which again, Ccino is fine with (lie) as long as he knows there are other timelines in which they live peacefully (he’s not actually fine with it, he’s terrified of Nightmare and his threats, but the idea of other timelines existing gives Ccino a little bit of hope that even if he dies, another version of himself and his brother are out there happy and safe)

And that’s when Nightmare tells him about the state of his Au, and even proving that there’s only this one timeline, and that crushes any sort of hope and confidence in Ccino, and well, Nightmare takes that as a chance to manipulate Ccino into a deal

The deal Nightmare’s trying to entrap Ccino into is for Ccino to be an outside source of info on the multiverse and what happens within it, considering his cafe is open to anyone out there, and an active info source at that, so if Dream were to visit the cafe, Ccino is to report that to him immediately, if anything happens within the cafe that could be good info that might benefit Nightmare, Ccino is to report that to him, if Nightmare were to visit himself, he expects a full report of what’s been happening out there when Nightmare’s been busy with his own nuisances, however Ccino isn’t allowed to provide info about Nightmare or his gang to anyone else

Ccino however, wouldn’t just accept Nightmare’s deal without his own terms, so he tells Nightmare that if he were to provide info, Nightmare’s forbidden from harming his Au or anyone in it (including people who visit his universe from other universes, no matter who it is, even if it’s Dream) which Nightmare (reluctantly) agrees to, and so the deal is made

So now, Ccino acts like an outsource spy to Nightmare without anyone’s knowledge, so an innocent Dream who thinks he can tell Ccino whatever thinking Ccino’s a good confidant would have the shock of his life if he ever found out anything Ccino was told went to Nightmare

Ccino obviously, finds no joy in this, and he even tries to keep somethings from Nightmare, it’s just hard to do that when your soul starts beating fast and fear grips his nonexistent throat and Nightmare catches his fear and starts questioning him :)

Ccino carries a lot of guilt for it, but just like any victim under Nightmare, Ccino is forced to do shit he isn’t proud of or want to do, it eats away at him and is just making his mental health worse than it already is

Ccino hears from Dream about how much Nightmare means to him, and so, since his job is to “provide info” he also relays those sweet conversations to Nightmare, hoping it might stirr something inside his cold soul, Nightmare barely twitches at such comments tho (further crushing whatever false hope he may have)

I plan for Presso (Fluffytale Paps) to also have a big role in the story and how it all connects to Nightmare, but I’m still working on that part so uhh nothing to say about that for now zhxhhdhdhhs, all I know is that I want Persso to also fall into making a deal with Nightmare shshhs

Ngl been working on a comic with Nightmare’s and Ccino’s “deal” but i’m far from done dbbdbxbx here’s a lil snippet tho

[spleenthecat]

huh? what do you mean its almost been 2 entire months since i did an unnecessarily long post about stan twin headcanons? ....okay, fine. stan twins food preferences. you want this about autism? sure. why not. do whatever you want. its canon anyways and we all know it. stan likes: any kind of greasy, unhealthy, and downright heart attack inducing food. not only is it cheap and affordable, but its also very comforting. you just gotta stuff your face sometimes. he especially likes burgers and tacos because you can just kinda shove whatever you want in them and it will still taste great. an honorable mention is also seafood. he would eat it every meal if it was more affordable, but the fish from the lake is good enough. toffee peanuts. we know this already, but i would be burned at the stake if i didnt mention it. "oh but he has trauma because thats what got him caught by ford when he broke the project" shhhh. shut. that is probably the last thing he was focused on during that entire time. comfort candy is comfort candy and i think that would be hard to actually ruin for stan. do you get what i mean. his favorite icecream flavor is anything with caramel swirls in it. ford likes: simple foods. things like eggs and toast. plain burgers with nothing on them. while this should in theory mean he eats healthier, it does not. he could eat so much biscuits and gravy its actually insane. tolerates fried food as long as its completely pat down and dry on the outside. he loves anything with absurd amounts of sugar in it. as long as its not too many flavors at once. things like pudding and cakes without frosting. he could probably eat an entire cake in one sitting as long as it doesnt have frosting on it. jellybeans. again, we know this already. but it felt important to mention. he constantly carries jellybeans on his person, no matter where hes going. he also really likes rock candy and those chocolate pebbles or whatever. he just really wants to eat rocks and those things scratch the itch in his brain really well. his favorite icecream flavor is strawberry. its a good balance between rich and refreshing. stan dislikes: stuff like pudding or oatmeal is just. gross to him. the texture is all the same, and.. well, its basically just the texture. in general, hes not very picky with food, but unless its soup or icecream, he doesnt like non-solid food. also, weirdly enough, he doesnt really like plain chocolate. it has to be in or on something. i mean who can blame him. what kind of weirdo fills up a cup of chocolate chips and eats them in bed while writing about gravity falls. and its not even milk chocolate, its dark. i mean what. whatd i say. ford dislikes: weirdly enough. pizza. you may be thinking "how does a guy from jersey not like pizza" and the answer is that. he will eat pizza, hes just very, very, very picky about it. if he doesnt like it, he gives it to stan and scarfs it down. so pretty much all of the time unless he actually makes it himself. the crust needs to be soft, but not chewy, and it cannot be soggy. the cheese needs to stick to the crust without sliding around after a couple of bites. the outer crust needs to also be covered with sauce. now. the best way to go about these specific criteria is infact to put the sauce over the cheese. i know. its horrific to those who give a single shit about this topic. but its true. so what im saying is whenever they go to a pizza place he gets cheese breadsticks and dips them in marinara. he prefers that over normal pizza. i blacked out and woke up to an entire paragraph solely about ford pines' pizza preferences. what just happened. anyways he doesnt like stuff with too many toppings. too many textures at once. ok so i knew this post was gonna be long but. i think i wrote twice as much for ford than i did stan. and half of that was about pizza. uh. whatever. hit post.

[7ndipity]

How They Text

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What the members texting habits would be like with their crush or S/o

Warnings: slightly suggestive 

A/N: thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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Jin: Jin I think is a very simplistic, but teasing texter. He’ll ask for your opinion on random things like “What should I get for lunch?” only to quip back like two minutes later with “wrong answer, I’m ordering chicken”. If you’re just in the flirty/crush stage, he tries to leave a bit of time in between texts, but once you’re dating, he texts regularly throughout the day about whatever he’s doing or thinking of “Do you think I’d look good with purple hair?”

Yoongi: I think Yoongi texts quite frequently, tho sometimes it’s only a *thumbs up emoji* He’s a man of slightly fewer words, and his texts reflect that, most of them being single word messages like “Dinner??” “Morning” “Missyou(intentionally written as one word like he’s mumbling)”. Every now and then tho, you’ll get one of his 2am, multi-paragraph messages about how much he cares for you and how much you mean to him🥺

Hobi: Hobi is consistent, responding quickly to all your messages, regardless of where you are relationship-wise. He makes sure to text you everyday, even if it’s just “Good morning!😊” and “Goodniiiiigt😘” so you know that he’s thinking of you. He also sends lots of playful selfies of his daily routine with teasing little captions like “bet you wish you were here” with a pic of him getting coffee or hanging out at rehearsals. He also randomly sends sweet little notes about how he’s thinking about you or how he misses you, especially if he’s traveling/on tour.

Namjoon: I think he texts a little inconsistently. If he’s home and in his usual routine, he texts you multiple times throughout the day, but if he’s busy or traveling, he tends to lose track of time and forgets til you text first. I think he prefers talking on the phone or in person, so he mainly texts to send updates abt his day/schedule. I feel like he texts a lot when he’s needy/horny, so if he’s suddenly really quick answering your messages, you know what’s up👀

Jimin: Jimin is a very cutesy texter, with lots of “<3”s and “smooch”s following whatever he says. He sends lots of lil reminders to look after yourself like “It’s cold today, don’t forget your jacket” or “I know you’re busy w work/school, but pls make sure to eat dinner”. He likes to play hard to get now and then, sending flirty little comments and then intentionally leaving you on ‘sent’ for a lil bit just to try and make you antsy, but if you do the same to him, he will get soo sulky 

Taehyung: I see Tae being semi-inconsistent with his texts. He’s the type to send you multiple texts in a row, but then once you respond, it takes him like an hour to reply back with just a“Yea”😑 He tends to get somewhat needy/sentimental in the evenings before bed, sending cute lil comments and scenarios like “we should buy a house somewhere by the ocean, that way we can go for walks on the beach whenever we want” “My bed’s not nearly as comfy w/o you to cuddle😔"

Jungkook: He’s a famously bad texter, leaving everybody on read constantly or taking half a day minimum to reply, but I like to think he would be more attentive if it’s from his crush or S/o(getting prompt answers from him is definitely a partner privilege) He tends to mostly send memes, but when he’s drunk, he texts a lot, rambling about how much he likes you and things he wants to do with you. They’re mostly innocent, but there’s definitely a few things that are a bit spicier too😳

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[lovelyahoy]

Dr. Stone: One-shot.

Word Count:5,705.

Warnings: Happy ending angst(?) question mark because I suck at angst and I didn't plan on it, then I realized what I had written uhm yeahhh, maybe way too OOC Senku, my writing is a warning itself, might feel (very) rushed, has a few triggers involving mental health issues, mention of suicide.

Summary: Senku's always logically thinking brain is steadily corrupted by something he can't seem to solve, the girl who barely seemed to take part in the world.

Pairing: Senku Ishigami x Fem!Reader.

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[Y/N] was a science he couldn't decipher.

Were they friends? He couldn't tell. She lingered here and there but never long enough to spark a conversation, her [E/C] eyes never changed from the blank stare—face frozen in a stone-cold expression.

Most classmates assumed she wasn't interested in making friends, focusing on her studies to remain in her position as the second-highest-ranked student. Senku thought the same for the longest while, over time she naturally drifted from his usual thoughts. Despite that, [Y/N] managed to make appearances in his head whenever he'd stumble on a psychology article, or social media posts asking for advice on friendships and getting to know other people.

During one of his rare lazy nights, he scrolled through his phone, scarlet eyes landing on a particular question.

"how can i find out if my friend is okay without being it obvious?"-posted 30 minutes ago by alo_mistx11

25 comments +

He sighed, when did it start bothering him this much? The leek-haired boy clicked on the plus sign, eyebrow raising at how the replies were lengthy paragraphs of others trying to give real advice, he sped-read most of it.

"I'm going to use my personal experience to try and give you some idea, I noticed a while ago that my friend's mood never seemed to change, not when he did something he claimed to like or something he mentioned hating. I started by asking simple questions like, how was your morning? did you enjoy lunch today? what do you think of this x thing? His typical answers were short, direct and lacked details—but the more I asked, the more I realized they started changing. He added a few more comments every time, slowly but surely my friend opened up, the 'It was fine.' turned into 'It was nice.' the 'Yeah, I did.' was now 'Not really, my curry didn't have enough flavor.'

The point is, to focus on their answers and go from there. Words are complicated, they can mean multiple things at once or nothing at all. Be patient.

Senku woke up the next morning with a mission to work on, instead of his usual seat in the middle of the classroom he swapped to sit next to a stiffly sitting [H/C] haired girl who didn't spare him a glance.

Why wasn't he sure of their status? Because he met the girl back in the third year of middle school, ever since then she always silently chose him as her partner for any assignment that needed to be worked on in pairs, sitting next to him during school trips and not to mention lingering in the science club—something she still did to this day in high school. Halfway through the second year of knowing each other, he realized maybe the reason wasn't her but him, thinking she silently made an effort while he didn't.

Weirdly enough he couldn't recall a single time she spoke, did she even at all? Was she mute and he didn't notice? Senku would ramble his points during their work, not caring if she paid attention or not. However, he knew she did, [Y/N] writing exactly what he had just said and using it for their presentations.

"How was your morning?"

A brief pause in her movements, a nod, and nothing else.

So he tried right after lunchtime, making his way back to the classroom he noticed her standing by an open window. Senku slid next to her, careful to not invade her personal space. Taking a moment to admire how the sun's rays gave her [S/C] skin a glow-like effect, even as her face expressed nothing her body was relaxed.

"Did you enjoy lunch today?"

Once again, a quick nod and she walked away.

Nearing the end of the last lesson, their teacher bid them a good day and left them to write down the homework scribbled on the blackboard. Senku zipped up his bag before catching up to [Y/N] who was already halfway down the hallway.

"What did you think of today's topic?"

Oh, she stopped walking. Her head slowly tilted over her shoulder to show him her usual face, [E/C] met a curious scarlet. She shook her head.

It wasn't exactly a huge progress, but it was something. He kept a notepad solely to write down her responses, day after day it stayed the same, a nod, a shake, or nothing at all. Senku's curiosity turned into something more, like a desperation to understand just what or who [Y/N] really was.

It gnawed at him that nothing he tried worked, repeating himself like a broken record and possibly annoying the girl—if she could feel annoyance anyway. But science took time, he knew that, Senku needed to up his effort.

So he decided to drop the questions he took from the post, scribbling consistent things she indulged in. Sadly, reading books was the first and only thing he noticed she did regularly, or well read one book, Senku realized after a short while she always re-read the same one.

Walking behind her while leaning over her seated figure, squinting his eyes trying to catch a glimpse. Pointing at a random corner in the classroom and reaching his hand over to move the book closer when she looked away. Even going as far as to lie to [Y/N] that a teacher was looking for her.

And every single damn time, the book was too far away for his eyes to catch anything. The cover closed over the pages whenever she'd look away from it, and the worst one of all, she carried it everywhere. Leaving no room to snatch it in her lack of presence.

Two weeks later the perfect opportunity set itself up for him, or so he thought.

While they were paired up in groups and loud chatter filled the room, the teacher asked [Y/N] to quickly fetch some assignments he forgot in the staff room. The scientist took this chance to pull out the book from her bag, there was nothing written on the cover. Senku flipped through the pages, feeling his face scrunch up as he read the words—this wasn't a story like he initially thought, no, it was more of a diary.

Entry #27

She started kicking a lot today, the first few times made me feel so giddy! But now I can't pick up my paintbrush without her causing me so much pain, can she stop?

Entry #28

I'm so sorry, I don't want her anymore. I'm scared, so goddamn scared…

Senku stuffed the book into his bag in a hurry when he noticed the top of her head peeking through the door's window before opening it. [Y/N] handed over the papers she was sent to get and took a seat next to him, picking up her pen and continuing to write.

On the outside, his composure could rival that of an actor, inside? Oh lord, inside he was screaming at himself, why the hell did he panic? He didn't know how he could return her book before she noticed—he's screwed.

[Y/N] reached into her bag, sitting up straight when her hand came up empty. Scarlet eyes widened in absolute fear surprise when the grasp on her pen tightened hard enough to spill ink out of the blocked end. Small plastic shards fell onto her open work notebook alongside droplets of crimson red, she hardly seemed fazed by the injury and wiped the blood away with a handkerchief.

He felt like he fucked up. Big time.

Senku started to lecture her to ease his worry in a familiar way, "Plastic might seem harmless to most people, but if microplastics enter your bloodstream it could cause cell damage, inflammation and not to mention an increased chance to develop diseases." he gently took the cloth and wrapped it around her hand carefully, tying a knot to secure it from moving. During his ramble he could feel her [E/C] eyes burning into his forehead, he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

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[Y/N] walked into the classroom on a cold Monday morning, she made the mistake of showering before checking the weather—leaving her body shivering while she waited for the bus just a few moments prior.

Like always, she tuned out the lively talk and sat down at the very back. Senku was already there writing down a list of things he'd need for an experiment, or so she assumed. Lately, the boy had been weirdly talkative to her, he always entertained her with random science facts but now he'd been asking questions out of the blue.

"Good morning." She wanted to part her lips and greet him back, but the grip on her bag tightened when she nodded instead and sat down.

With the book gone, [Y/N]'s routine had drastically been reduced to nothingness for hours. Her hand was now wrapped with clean bandages, there wasn't a chance in the world she misplaced the book. That meant someone had purposely taken it, her brain recited the pages to fill the void, word by word.

Entry #76

The doctor said I needed to be careful, [Y/N]'s very fragile. Was this my fault? I should've taken care of myself more, what if she never gets better? Sorry…

Entry #102

What's this? I don't know, I can't tell. Voices. There are voices everywhere and no one else seems to hear them, they happen when I'm around her…is this [Y/N]'s fault? Making her mother suffer this much, what have I done to deserve this?

"Pigeons have five color receptors in their eyes, while humans only have three." The feeling of something falling on her shoulders and the scrapping sound of a chair broke her trance.

Her closed eyes fluttered open, head tilting over her shoulder as if questioning Senku's random fact and act. [Y/N] observed the slight red tint his ears got, looking away while she slipped her arms through the sweater's sleeves.

"I saw you petting a pigeon Friday after school."

'You look cute like this.' is what she wanted to say, a twinge of pain in her chest brought her back from her thoughts. Why was he observing her so closely nowadays? Senku was completely out of character. His questions, thankfully now dropped, unsettled her at times—reminding her of the twice-a-week therapy sessions.

"Would you like to come over? Taiju and I are going try and send another rocket into space."

'Huh, another?' It was so…Senku coded…that her surprise melted away quickly, it sounded like it could be fun but unfortunately, she couldn't head anywhere other than home. Her dad who worked from home never let her out of his sight besides school, not even to go to the corner store. It used to feel suffocating, but now she mindlessly went along with it, fighting was a waste of time.

When you're the cause of someone else's despair, it's only fair to stay quiet and oblige them.

The boy sighed softly at the shake of her head, denying his invitation. Senku wasn't one to give up, his mind dead set on everything having a solution and while humans were complicated beings, a science he typically had no interest in—he wanted to know about [Y/N] no matter how long it took. When he started something, it was almost impossible for him to stop.

A note slid onto his desk, the pinky stuck in his ear stopped moving, and Senku felt his heart skip a beat. There laid her first words towards him, on the ripped-up corner of her notebook page.

'Sorry, have fun for me.'

That single note had changed everything, a huge leap in progress. Taiju questioned him on the number of packs of post-it notes he carried in his bag, only to get brushed off by the ecstatic scientist. Senku would stick a blank note on her desk every day since that Monday, and without fail, it would be on his after a few minutes of asking her stuff. It was a wonder how he didn't feel impatient at her vague words and quick sentences, but they were far better than the nods.

"I'm sure the next one won't explode."

"Good luck."

"Your club member dropped off this box."

"I'd like to know more about pigeons."

Senku breathed in shakily reading the newest piece of paper he got, eyes borderline burning imaginary holes into the only note he kept safe. The rest were thrown out after their 'conversation' ended, but this one? He couldn't bring himself to do the same.

Unfortunately, after this breakthrough, his only obstacle to moving forward was the book still stuffed in his bag. Logically theorizing her reaction, ten billion percent it would end with her killing never speaking to him again. Guilt overtook him whether he liked it or not, it felt wrong to just place it on her desk when she wasn't around. Senku was sure [Y/N] knew someone had taken it, he needed to come clean.

Oh boy.

"Uhm, are you sure about this, Senku?" Yuzuriha waved her hands frantically, she tagged along for a few minutes when the leek-haired boy asked her to help look for [Y/N]. The crafts member was horrified when he admitted to being the culprit behind the book's disappearance, Yuzuriha hung around the [H/C] haired girl on the daily—with them being in the same club.

"Nope, tell Byakuya to stop crying like a wimp when I go missing." The brown-haired girl could see Senku smirking smugly, however, he couldn't hide his trembling body from the thought of how this could all go down.

Waiting behind the corner, they noticed [Y/N] finally walk out of the nurse's office and head towards them. Senku tried to take a step back, only for Yuzuriha to send him an encouraging smile and push him forward. Her friend was going to get her book, no matter what.

Senku stumbled forward almost bumping into [Y/N], he huffed out an annoyed sound and fixed his lab coat. He wordlessly grabbed her wrist in a gentle grip and guided her to the rooftop. Really he was just trying to buy more time to compose himself, these feelings were beginning to become an illogical mess.

Illogical. Feelings were nothing but illogical, that's what he always said to himself and others. It was bothersome to realize that once they overtook you, it was hard to push them away.

[Y/N] walked behind him without struggle, eventually settling near the railing of the rooftop. Her eyes noticed his hand reach into the bag, grasping something and hesitating to bring it out. She had a vague idea of what it was going to be. Suspicions floating in her head were confirmed when her mother's journal entered her line of sight, she made no move to grab it, only raising her head to stare into his wavering eyes.

[H/C] hair was hit by a soft breeze, she lifted a hand to brush it out of her face.

"Why?"

Feeling like his brain malfunctioned, Senku nearly dropped the book at her voice. It was soft—so soft that if he wasn't paying attention, he would've missed it. He couldn't tell if she was mad or upset, face staying neutral.

"I'm sorry." He wiggled the book, trying to encourage her to take it and be done with it. Senku felt sweat build on his forehead when she stayed still. "I wanted to know more about you, I got too into my head and took it."

"Know me as a person or did you see it as an experiment?"

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] finally grabbed her belonging, tracing a finger over the smooth cover. "Did you..?"

"Read it? only two entries." He didn't know if that would help him save face. "I couldn't bring myself to read further without your permission." He watched her flip through the pages, still standing in front of him with what seemed like zero interest, before he could utter another rushed apology she spoke once again.

"I'm not allowed to talk, not at school or home." She paused, trying to think of a good reason to keep talking. Senku, from the beginning, sparked hints of emotion she thought she had lost forever ago. It was an occurrence she wanted to keep happening, and while she couldn't ignore the slight anger bubbling right now—she would suppress it, not wanting to lose him.

Maybe, just maybe she could get this off her chest. Knowing the boy would never gossip or spread rumors about her, Senku wasn't that type of person, and perhaps that's why he drew her in so quickly.

"My dad says I sound too alike to my late mother, he hates it. I'm not sure when exactly I stopped talking altogether, but before I knew it, my voice felt like a distant memory." [Y/N] sighed softly, continuing when she realized he had no intentions of interrupting her. "It's not that I hide my feelings like everyone claims, I just don't feel them anymore. Not as strong anyways."

"Your cute science rambles gained all of my attention, ever since middle school. Something about your passion and love for it made me feel warm inside, the strongest feeling I'd get was all because of you."

[Y/N] took another, much longer pause this time. Slowly thinking back on her words, he'd probably think she was confessing to him. Before she could rephrase, the bell rang loudly. Senku gave no indication that he planned on moving, taking a step forward and stopping her.

"Finish what you were saying."

"Senku…"

"You were right. At first, the way you acted did feel like science I wanted to figure out, over time It became more about…you…as a person." His scarlet eyes kept their focus on her, refusing to break contact. "So, please [Y/N], tell me everything, every detail possible—I ten billion percent assure you I will do whatever I can to help you."

Seconds later she pushed the book into his chest gently, leaving him to hold it while walking back inside. He stood there feeling conflicted. Fuck. Was this really okay?

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Click. Clack. Click.

The sound echoed throughout the room, the culprit? Newton's cradle settled on her therapist's desk. The older man knew it bothered her, why he kept it moving was a mystery she wished would disappear.

"It's been years [Y/N], why do you still come back?"

"Because you suck at your job."

"Cheeky shit." Dr. Bernard poured himself a glass of whiskey, swirling the liquid around before downing it in one go. "Your mom died, get over it."

"You know what your real problem is? You. You're the issue. You self-destruct whenever you feel any hint of happiness, feeling guilty about it." [Y/N] stayed quiet, these words had been thrown at her by the man since forever ago. "Your mom hated you, not because she wanted to, or because you did something. Being happy isn't going to make her mad, [Y/N] she's fucking dead."

"Can we end this early? I just needed your signature."

She dusted off her school skirt, taking the waving paper from Bernard's hand. He didn't let go, forcing them to engage in eye contact. "I hope you find something that brings you so much joy, you stop taking these shits."

For a drunk, rude, and lazy therapist, Bernard had been the best possible match. He'd been trying for years, since [Y/N] was a mere eight-year-old crying hysterically whenever her mom came up as a topic. Why was he the best in her eyes? Well, it came in the form of his prescription notepad. At first, he hesitated assigning any further treatment, however over time while his life went to shit, he stopped caring about his job and patients.

"I didn't understand at the time, why she was so unresponsive. Taking a nap…what a joke.."

"It must've been heard to learn the truth, [Y/N]. However that's why you're here with me, I'll be helping you."

Even when he got back on track, he couldn't fix the addiction he created within [Y/N]. Trust him he fucking tried, she always managed to get the pills one way or another, even if it meant getting involved with shady third-party sellers. So he kept agreeing to sign for them.

While [Y/N] laid in bed waiting for her medication to settle and lull her into sleep, a few blocks away a certain scientist was doing intensive 'research'.

Postpartum psychosis. A mental illness that causes a mother to lose their grip on reality after giving birth, hallucinations, and deep confusion are the main symptoms. Senku was approaching the middle of the journal when he realized the extent of it, putting pieces together from each entry. Some were lengthy, others were single sentences.

Entry #123

[Y/N] made paper flowers for Mother's day, gosh she looked so adorable with those messy pigtails she insisted on doing herself. Lately, I've realized my thoughts have been jumbled in a way, I don't even remember writing those weird entries that keep appearing. Maybe [Dad/N] was playing a prank on me? Anyway, leaving this cute memory here.

Senku traced the glued-on picture, a smiling [Y/N] hugging her mother's leg while shoving the fake flowers into her hand. They looked extremely happy.

He couldn't help but intensely stare, a part of him wanted her to smile like that for him. Subconsciously making it a goal in his head. Senku yawned looking at his clock, a little past two in the morning, he was too focused to stop.

Entry #268

Something's wrong. Yesterday I had a vivid dream where I nearly killed my baby girl, it felt so real. From the sound of her crying to the blood that gushed out from where I cut her….it was horrible. I tried to cater to [Y/N] all day, giving her treats and playing dolls until sundown. Why do I feel so guilty, if it was only a dream?

The clock continued to tick, flipping another page Senku's eyes began to droop. It was extremely illogical for him to tire himself out like this, fully knowing he could finish reading tomorrow—the book still remained in his grasp.

He couldn't begin to imagine what [Y/N] had lived through, typically postpartum psychosis lasted for weeks, sometimes months, and in bad cases up to three years. It seemed [M/N] never got better, slipping between her mental illness and reality constantly for eight consecutive years. To hear and see your mother love you so profoundly one day only to hate your existence the next, must've been awful.

Entry #311

This will be my final entry, I've hurt you so much already and I can't continue to allow it. Remembering is becoming harder and harder with each passing day, but I know I love you [Y/N], so very much. Take care of [D/N], he'll get a bit lonely without me.

I'll leave this book with you, hoping you finish filling its pages. Please be strong my little pigeon, I know you asked me to stop calling you that but I couldn't help it. Will you allow just this once? I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry darling, promise me that you'll live life to the fullest, for both of us.

-[M/N] [L/N]

His fingers lightly traced the darker spots around the page's surface, lips trembling when he realized some of them were dried-up blood instead of tears. Senku noticed the pages after this last entry were all written by [Y/N], hesitating for a good while until he remembered how the girl had entrusted him with it.

Entry #46

Dr. Bernard couldn't answer my question, I didn't expect much to be honest. He's been drinking heavily every session, his wife died? or was it his kid? Perhaps both. I wonder when I stopped caring, where is the real me? Neither of us knew.

So with an energy drink he'd been avoiding till now, cracked open and set onto his bed stand he was ready for an all-nighter. Future Senku can deal with tiredness.

Entry #88

I didn't take any medication today, I met a boy who wouldn't stop talking about how rockets were made and operated, I was too immersed in his passion to notice my alarm telling me to take my pills.

Senku? Yeah, that's his name. I think I'll stick around him more, still have to take my pills even if he makes me feel like they aren't necessary in the moment.

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"What are you doing?"

[Y/N] watched Senku search for her bag, they were alone in the science club, and she wanted to hurry home but the boy insisted on giving him a quick minute.

After a few seconds, he found what he was searching for, the two antidepressant pill bottles with different labels. He shook them in front of her seated figure, a frown etched on his lips.

"Taking Prozac and Zoloft together isn't doing you any damn favors, [Y/N]. It doesn't result in better efficiency, harming you faster than you could ever outheal it." [E/C] eyes barely reacted to him dumping the pills into a vial filled with some sort of acid, the disintegration took only mere moments sizzling up before the liquid settled back to its original composition.

"It doesn't seem like you suffered with serotonin syndrome, no, you got a severe case of emotional blunting. You noticed and continued to take them regularly." Senku scratched off the labels before throwing the empty bottles in the trash, people didn't need to find out who they belonged to. "Remember the response you gave me, [Y/N]? When I asked if you minded my science talks?"

He took steps forward, stopping when he was right in front of her. Scarlet met [E/C], head tilted up to observe him.

"If you ever feel the itch to take a pill come to me instead, I'll fill your head with the brightest colors."

It was easier said than done, the confidence he felt when saying those words settled into raw embarrassment. It was the first time he ever heard her huff out a noise close to laughter, trying to pry his hands away from blocking the red faced scientist.

Senku studied up as many pigeon facts as he could, he truly underestimated how badly [Y/N] was hooked on the medications, asking to hear his voice around every hour. When she needed some science talk, he'd immediately do it, even going as far as sending her constant audio texts throughout the day and night—it was logical, right? Just in case she needed them while he wasn't physically there.

A few more weeks later, her lips would slowly twitch up into very brief smiles, [E/C] eyes gained a small spark, one he noticed in a heartbeat. [Y/N] greeted him and other classmates in the morning, shocking even the teacher when she raised her hand to answer a question. From an outside perspective, it looked like a teen finally coming out of her introverted shell and fitting in more snuggly with her peers.

For Senku? He never thought he'd ever feel this sort of third-party heartbreak, her cries being muffled by his chest, tears streaming down her face and onto him. Yeah, she was healing, but being healed meant all of her suppressed emotions came back in harsh waves. He had been the one to throw out her remedy, so he would ten billion percent be the one to help her get through it all.

"Your mom's last words, weren't they asking for a promise? To live for her and yourself?"

Was a question that had completely broken the thin barrier that remained between them, it was the hardest she cried and honestly, it scared him. Trembling words that were spoken in a hoarse voice letting him know, that in fact, that wasn't the last promise she had asked of [Y/N].

"While she wrote her last entry, I was in the room. I didn't understand why mom had a rope tied around the ceiling fan, or why there was a stool just underneath it." Senku's arms around her tightened, body felt heavy against his as they were seated on his bedroom floor. "I was so excited for her to finish because she told me it would be mine. I didn't know I was practically beaming with happiness that my mother was about to die."

"In her last moments, she was no longer my mom. Screaming at me for ruining her life, for being born…then…then she asked me to promise to take my own life." Hiccups interrupted her words, taking deep breaths to compose herself long enough to tell Senku the memory that haunted her above everything else.

He pulled her head closer to his chest. His eyes began to sting at her words, he regretted bringing up that question.

"When she realized I didn't understand what it meant, whispering a 'like this.' she pushed the stool away. I tried, I tried so hard to stop her legs up while she twitched but I was too weak. My mom died hating me Senku, and I know it wasn't her, but in the end, it was still a part of her." [Y/N] wiped at her face uselessly, the tears kept getting replaced by fresh ones. "If I hadn't been born, she'd be living happily with my dad."

"Mommy…?"

A croaking noise left the woman's body, natural instincts kicking in to try and pry the noose away from her crushed throat. Feet harshly kicked around narrowly missing a frantic [Y/N] who managed to finally wrap her small arms around her mother's legs.

"What's wrong? Mommy?"

Silence enveloped the room, the small girl kept her grip on the now-still body. [Y/N] trembled with tears running down her chubby cheeks, she was scared. Never did her mom ever make any sounds like that.

"Are you sleeping mommy?…goodnight, don't let the bed bugs bite." The small girl sighed in relief, from what? She didn't know. She stayed there for an hour, frowning when her mom was getting cold. [Y/N] turned to the bed and struggled to take the thick blanket, she froze hearing a loud thud, and her head whipped seeing the body sprawled on the floor.

Dried up blood stained the woman's neck, a result of her nails having dug into her neck when desperation caved it. [Y/N] dropped the blanket over her mother, running over to the bathroom, and grabbing a first aid kit.

"You need to be more careful mommy…" [Y/N] closed the wide dull eyes staring right at her, wiping the wounds with the light hum of a lullaby her mom used to sing whenever she healed her up.

Eventually, sleep won her over, the child huddled up to the corpse with a smile on her face. She hadn't cuddled with mom in a long time.

What [Y/N] never could've known, was that her mother, in the truly very last moments had regained full consciousness. Clawing at her cause of impending death, desperate to push her child away from seeing this.

Wait…I…I don't want this anymore please god…not yet..[Y/N]….[Y/N]….

"The if doesn't matter. not anymore." His words were sharp, trying to get them across loud and clear to the girl having a breakdown in his arms. "Her mind hated you [Y/N], not her heart."

"The real her loved you so much, cling onto that." Senku's arms slowly unwrapped her figure, instead raising his hands to cup her puffy face, eyes filled with new tears. The pads of his fingers caressed her cheeks, lightly wiping right underneath her eyes.

"Learn to remember only the happy memories, bad ones will only continue to hurt you and…..I don't like seeing you sad."

He mumbled the last part, despite this very weak attempt he knew she heard it. [Y/N] giggled seeing his face turn a bright red, feeling the heavy chains around her heart disappear bit by bit. Like a fresh breath of air, she had found happiness in Senku.

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"Hurry up, slowpoke."

The morning was too chaotic for Senku, his damn alarm didn't go through, leaving him with literal seconds to get ready.

[Y/N] yawned buttoning her school sweater, she regularly slept over at her boyfriend's house—even learning to deal with Byakuya gushing over how cute they were to him.

Grabbing her backpack she headed out first, leaving the scientist to stumble about still getting his last items. Stuffing the lab coat into his bag he raced for the door, before closing it he glanced at his computer.

There, on the corner of his main monitor, was the post-it note he refused to throw out. It dangled softly with the wind coming from his slightly opened window, scarlet eyes filled with adoration recalling the writing. Words engraved into his brain and heart.

"Do you mind me talking this much about science? Is it okay?"

The question lingered in the air for a brief moment before the note was placed on his desk.

'It's okay, the brightest colors fill my head when you speak."

Taiju and Yuzuriha were excited to hear they were dating, the former teasing him and backing down once his best friend threatened to expose his crush on the brown-haired girl.

[Y/N] finally said her goodbyes to Dr. Bernard, smiling gently when the older man cried his eyes out, apologizing and saying how proud he was. Slowly but surely, the strings that attached her to the past were snapping.

Dad's string was the hardest, she didn't want to get rid of it, only untangle the knots. It was rough, but with time and patience, he agreed to attend therapy and changed to work in the office instead of at home. Relationship getting stronger with each dinner night together.

"Stop spacing out dumbass." Oh right, with a romantic relationship came deeper trust and a back to normal Senku. His hand outstretched waiting for the chemical he asked for three minutes ago, [Y/N] sent him a pout, giving him the requested item.

"You were much nicer before."

"Do you reeeally mind it?" He leaned over to quickly peck her lips, turning his head back to his experiment. "Even when I do that?"

"Dumbass, was it? yeah, agreed."

Senku huffed out a cackle, partially from her comment and the chemical reaction going perfectly. They watched the foam-like substance pour out of the vial, he had already explained what it was but she was too busy focusing on his cute concentrated face.

Her fingers wrapped around his hand, squeezing tightly and letting her head fall on his shoulder.

"My dumbass though." He sucked at mumbling.

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3700+ years later he created post-it notes for her, receiving that beautiful huge smile he longed to see. (He melted on the spot, not caring about Kohaku or Chome's eyes bulging out their heads from his reaction)

Walking into his lab in the mornings and seeing her words scribbled with encouragement. Yeah, feelings were illogical, but she made it worth it.

To keep herself conscious, [Y/N] recited her mother's journal, only the happy pages this time though.

Upon awakening she slapped Senku abruptly, covering herself with her hands and yelling out. She didn't realize it was him, forgive her.

-

[Y/N]'s last entry before petrification:

Entry #211

I found someone very precious to me. I'll probably follow him till the end of time, hope you don't mind waiting longer for me mom.

and mom?

Rest easy please, I'm not afraid anymore.

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When y'all write any 'sad' stuff, does it make you sad when you read it? I know I'm not good at angst, but reading back to edit it I was stoned faced, so my head was like, yeah no one is gonna give a fuck if I don't. 👩‍🦯

[hattersarts]

hi! ;_; i come to you seeking wisdom: do you know of any f/f ships featuring mothers/mother figures? I know persephone/nyx or hekate/selene but i was trying to find others and can't think of any. There's no way there's only two. So i thought I'd ask you since it sounds like something you might know about?

Hi!! sorry this took so long to respond, i wrote the answer out once and then my web browser refreshed on me and i lost all my paragraphs 💀💀💀💀💀

Im going to assume you mean strictly mother/mother pairings (i don't know hekate/selene so don't know what those dynamics are)

Emma Swan/Regina Mills (Once Upon a time) These guys were the top f/f ship on ao3 for years for a reason, they literally share a son BUT ARE MORTAL ENEMIES AS DECREED BY A MAGICAL CURSE. AND THEN THEY HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER. the show is often batshit insane but when you get 13K fics that cover a massive range of plots and are so well written i cant complain. s1 is recommended watching to get into the fic but honestly even just the first half of s1 is probably fine and then a plot summary of the rest. Grace Hansen/Frankie Bergstein (Grace & Frankie) i mean am i not supposed to root for the two women who's husbands cheated on them with each other to then get together?? fic pool has a lot of established older writers in it so the quality is so good and grace is the best non-canon comp het character to ever exist (yes even within the the text of the show, some of the things she does are CRAZY) lmao i guess i can also suggest alicent/rhaenyra from House of the Dragon, but the depends on if you enjoy GoT/HotD things (its milfs with shared history i enjoy them a great deal)

I've a few others that are very minor (lol Queen Lillian/Fairy Godmother anyone) but these are the biggest mother/mother pairings that come to mind that have somewhat of a fandom. I've a few that are single mother/single character that have kids as an important part of the ship but not sure if thats what you're looking for.

[backtothefanfiction]

Nicknames

Summary; explaining where you and Felix get your nicknames for each other from.

Warnings: fluff, tragic backstory, neglect, sibling bullying

A/N: the whole point of the Summer at Saltburn shorts is that you can read them in any order and they make sense but this is probably one with the most context as to why reader lives/spends their school holidays at Saltburn.

Summers at Saltburn Masterlist

You can’t remember a single summer you haven’t spent at Saltburn. Even as a kid, before your father ran off to South America (when he came under investigation for embezzling company funds), you had always spent some time at your Godfather’s house; because his kids were the same age as you. You were the youngest of four, a “happy” accident 6 years after your older brother had been born. He was supposed to be the baby of the family, not you and the age difference between you and them (they all had only a year or two between them) made them cruel.

Felix had started to call you Daisy in response to hearing your older brothers and sister refer to you as Oopsy at one of his parents parties.

“Why do you call her Daisy, my darling?” Elspeth had asked her son when she realised he’d started to refer to you exclusively as the small yet resilient dainty flower.

“Because her family call her oopsy, as in oopsy Daisy.” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Oh how horrible. Is that true darling?” She says turning towards you. Elspeth had always treated you as if you were one of her own and the thought of people being so cruel to you made her blood simmer under her collected exterior.

You paused before saying “yes,” unable to look her in the eyes.

“Well,” she said, patting your hand that lay resting on the table between the two of you, “I much prefer Daisy, because you are. You are beautiful and strong and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

——————/////—————

You had taken to calling Felix “Fix” only a few summers back, when he finished secondary school and brought his first school friend home for the summer. It wasn’t until another 3 summers later and Felix brought Oliver home for the summer that he finally asked you why.

You had decided to hide yourself in the field in hope of actually trying to get through one of the books you’d brought with you to read this summer. You actually hated the field. It had a very specific rule, if you were going to lie out in the field, you have to do it naked. It wasn’t the rule itself that made you hate it, but the fact you always seemed to get bit by something hiding in the long grass.

You’d managed to sneak away and remain undetected for all of 30 minutes (which was a new kind of record because searching the whole house for someone could take up to an hour at times) before Felix came stalking across the field towards you.

“Clothes.” You called out from behind your book.

He was silent as he stripped off his polo shirt and shorts before stomping through the long grass towards you. He remained silent as you continued to read but his fidgety fingers and legs told you there was something he wanted to talk about.

“Just say it.” You say, your eyes pausing at the end of a paragraph to make sure you wouldn’t lose your spot, hoping his question would have a quick answer and you could go back to the novel in your hand.

“Why do you call me Fix?” He says.

It’s not a question you were expecting and find yourself dropping your book into your lap to turn and look at him. “I thought it was obvious.” You say, peering over the tops of your sunglasses at him.

“Well apparently it’s not.” He replies.

“It’s because you like to fix people.” You say, lifting your book back up to your eyes, figuring it was answer enough, but alas, Felix protested.

“I don’t like to fix people.” He scoffs and as you look over the top of your book at him, you can see the small scowl forming on his face around his furrowed brow.

“Oh yeah?” You say before you both get distracted by the sound of another pair of feet making their way across the field towards you. You look to see Oliver making his way towards you both and it’s like the god’s have just handed this to you on a plate. “Ahhh look,” you say, seizing the opportunity, “here comes exhibit C.” You say to Felix, before shouting a reminder of “Clothes!” At Oliver.

Felix doesn’t say any more about it that afternoon, but when he corners you that evening before dinner, he has to ask. “Okay, so if Ollie is exhibit C, I’m assuming Michael was exhibit B…” he pauses as he waits for you to give him a small nod of confirmation before he asks, “Who’s exhibit A?”

“Me.” You say, as if it’s obvious. One look at his face tells you that you’ve stunned him into silence. Your face is calm and confident as you make your way into the dining room, leaving him alone in the hallway to ponder his thoughts.