#the dot of the j fell off

[nefja]

Arts and crafts and sleepy supervisior.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

interaction with mama or papa leech (or both) please!

yuu was walking down the hallway along with jade and floyd, exchanging stories of recent happenings before it was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out to them.

"jade! floyd!"

by the looks of the twins' excited expressions and the occasion of family day, they connected the dots that it must be their parents and swiftly hid behind one of the brothers before the person came into view, trying to remove their own presence. although jade had clarified that they had a normal family business, they can't help but get nervous and perhaps a bit frightened, especially with how the leech's definition of "normal" is quite... questionable. maybe if they're lucky, they can make a run for it before they start to take notice...

(i hope i did this right!)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Mother and father.”

“Mom!! Pops!!”

You hesitantly peered out from behind the twins. Two lanky figures towered over you, as imposing as skyscrapers.

Mr. Leech was stone-faced, skin slightly grooved like a rock carved by the crashing waves, teal hair streaked with black slicked back with gel. His eyes were like beacons of light searching in the night--sharp, discerning. He wore a smart pinstriped suit, polished shoes, and gloves, reminding you of an older Jade.

Mrs. Leech's lithe form was wrapped in an off-the-shoulder sun dress, the slit of it riding halfway up her thigh, skirt spilling into a waterfall of gathered tulle. A string of creamy pearls--simple, understated--drapes across her collar. Her wide brim hat shaded her face, but you could still admire how she had expertly painted her lips and eyes, how her hair fell in a loose wave over one shoulder. She was like Floyd, mixing an impeccable fashion sense with a slight hint of danger.

When Mrs. Leech spotted her sons, she charged at them at a speed that was shocking for a woman in high heels. She threw her arms around Jade and Floyd, pulling them in for a tight hug.

"My babies!! I've missed you so much, darlings," she gushed. "How are classes? How are clubs? You must tell me everything...!"

“It’s wonderful to see you as well. We have much to catch up on.”

“Ehehehe~ Mom? you’re squeezin’ me so hard! Watch out, cuz I’ll get’cha back!!”

Mr. Leech cleared his throat. "Pardon the interruption, but..." His eyes cut to you—no longer concealed by the twins—and you froze, pinned in place by his stern gaze. “It seems we have a stranger in our midst. Jade and Floyd's... friendly acquaintance, I presume."

Mrs. Leech released her children. “Just a moment, dear!!”

The giantess appeared before you, her shadow larger than life. You managed a single shaky step backwards before her claw-like nails dug into you.

“Ah, mom went right to work,” Floyd said in a singsong.

“Do stay still,” Jade advised you. “It will make the process go by much more quickly.”

J-Just what is going to happen to me?!

Mrs. Leech’s hands ran the length of your body and its crevices. She never lingered in one spot. Pat, pat, pat, then onto the next area.

A full body pat-down?!

“All clear,” Mrs. Leech called to her husband.

“Excellent. That is a relief." Mr. Leech adjusted his tie and offered a wane smile. "Excuse us. We're in the habit of running through a series of safety protocols before receiving guests. Unfortunately, it's terribly inefficient to carry out in a public setting." He paused. "... How do you feel about signing nondisclosure agreements?"

"N-Nondisclosure agreements?!"

"Honey, you're going to terrify the poor thing," Mrs. Leech tutted--but she was giggling faintly as though she had just heard a witty joke. "Don't worry. My husband can be a very gentle man."

D-Don't that imply he also has the capacity to be very ungentle?!

"E-Erm..." You worriedly glanced at the twins, who were smirking (but, you had noticed, not actually intervening).

"What does your family do, anyway?" you once asked Jade.

He had taped a finger to his lips and mysteriously answered, "They simply run an independent business that dabbles in a bit of everything. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you."

"Some help here, guys?" you whimpered.

"Sorry, not much we can do," Floyd responded with a (very unhelpful) shrug. "Dad's got his stuffy processes. No one can get in the way of those."

"I-I'm not going to be roped into making as blood pact, am I?!"

"Blood pact? My, what an active imagination you have." Jade chuckled. "I believe I have informed you before that our family business is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Frankly, I'm not sure I believe you anymore!"

"Oh my~ Did you hear that, dear?" Mrs. Leech grabbed her husband by the arm. "It sounds as though Jade and Floyd's friend doesn't trust us."

"Indeed." He was smiling, but it did not fully reach his eyes. "It would be a shame if we allowed them to walk away with the wrong impression of our happy little family."

"Fufufu... We'll have to correct that, won't we?"

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because I'm rewatching Wild Life

Scar: Hey Grian, check out this funny .GIF I found! Grian: It’s pronounced “jif”. Scar: Huh? Grian: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Scar: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Grian: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Scar: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Grian: It’s exactly the same! Scar: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Grian: Gentrification. Scar: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Grian: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Scar: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Scar: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Grian: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Scar: Huh. Didn’t know that. Scar: You’re still wrong, though. Grian: You just hate me because I’m right. Scar: I just hate you in general. Grian: You mean in “geh-neral”? Scar: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Grian: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Scar: loads shotgun I got this. Grian: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

Scar: Okay, Grian, you were right! I was… Less right!

Scar: Grian, wake up! Grian, half asleep: Five more minutes… Scar: You’ve been in a coma for two years! Grian: … Grian: Okay, two more minutes…

Grian: Shut it Scar, I only shook your hand because I had to. We will NEVER be friends. Scar: Lets survive this together! Grian: I HOPE YOU DIE.

Scar: What’s your biggest fear? Grian: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Scar, under their breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Grian: chokes on something Scar: Jeez, Grian, don't die on us. Grian: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

Grian and Scar are texting Grian: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Scar: What did they change my name to? Grian: Chosen One. Scar: Don’t change it back. Grian: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Scar: I’m the chosen one.

Scar: Are you mad? Grian: No. Scar: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Grian: Alright, listen up you little shits. Grian: Not you Scar. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Scar: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Grian: ���I was hungry.

Grian: Don’t you have any dignity, Scar? Scar: Uh, no.

Grian: Do you want this handful of moss? Scar: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Grian: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

Scar: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Grian: I’ve got plenty of common sense! Grian: I just choose to ignore it.

Scar: I’m serious! They’re watching me! They’ve even got an agent following me! Don’t you believe me? Grian: Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you… It’s that I don’t believe you and I don’t care.

Scar: Grian keeps forgetting which WiFi network they're supposed to use. Scar: So I renamed ours to "Grian, use this one" to help them out a little.

Grian: Please, Scar, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Grian: I’m sorry Scar. Grian: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Scar: It has to be done. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: Places +4 Uno.

Scar: Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad single life? Grian: It actually does.

Grian: Amazing! Scar, your just like Sherlock Homeless! Scar: IT'S HOLMES!

Grian: I taught the dog a new trick. throws ball Fetch! Dog: just stands there Scar: He didn’t do it. Grian: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

Grian: What the hell is wrong with you? Scar: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Grian: Do you have a superpower? Scar: Yep! It’s hindsight. Grian: …that’s not going to help us. Scar: Yes, I see that now.

Grian: You’re giving me a sticker? Scar: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Grian: I’m not a preschooler. Scar: Fine, I’ll take it back- Grian: I earned this, back off!

[wh1sp3rr]

arkham knight + [2.4k wc]

🏷️ tags: sfw, hurt & comfort, angst if you squint, black fem coded reader, not proofread

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

His throat burns from how much he’s screamed—ordered his troops to obey. Heart heavy and weak in his chest from its arduous pumping, full tubes of blood throughout his cut body: a gnarly gash on his upper bicep he has yet to notice once the adrenaline wears off: small yet viciously deep. Full lungs bursting to the brim of expansion from the deep, laboured breathes he takes, pants really. His mind cloudy and vision fuzzy, missing the warm image of home: you.

He owns a small apartment just along the outskirts of Gotham, most locals wouldn’t even call it that, which he actually prefers: a little distance from the brutal world of the city he once died in. He also feels reassured that it’s where you basically live now too. It was never an official agreement for you to move in, though it never needed to be. Your own little home where you could live, and eat, and sleep and cuddle and study and read and sometimes skip uni to stay in with him.

He liked that you had a normal life. That even though he enjoyed the days of you two fighting side by side as Robin and Batgirl: two teenagers hopelessly in love, soon to have almost all their firsts with each other: love each other, lose each other—even though he misses them a lot, [how he holds those memories so dearly in his heart] he’s still so grateful for finding out that you retired, and how you thought there was more to life.

He still remembers the day his stupid, utterly obedient and absolutely acquiescent troops tried to kidnap you. Scared that you had witnessed whatever atrocity it was that they had committed under the Knight’s order. Jason told them simply that he’d handle it—took you away to some lonesome park you used to visit as kids once their backs were turned marching away, heavy guns perfectly snug in their arms, and stood frozen in front of you, mouth already wobbly from how much he missed you.

It was raining. He remembers that because your mascara was smeared in the corners of your eyes, and your hair was frizzy. You were wearing a turtleneck, he remembers that too because he always thought you looked like a sexy teacher he’d have a crush on in grade school. Glasses were on as well, only helping your case. And your books! Gosh your books were getting soaked in your little tote bag, [it’s no secret how much he adores literature] it pained him.

He took his helmet off first, even though he badly wanted to touch you: cup your cheek, stroke your face. But he didn’t want to startle you because he was still a stranger to you. Not the boy whom you were madly in love with. Not yet anyway.

He didn’t even speak until his helmet was completely removed: didn’t want the Arkham Knight’s grating modulated voice to hurt your ears [too ashamed of this new identity] and you just stared. Stared into the glassy, hyper-tech screen that had dotted lights glow and blink and fade. Over and over till he pressed a button (you think) and all was revealed.

It was difficult. There was a lot of crying—too much almost, your heart had never hit your ribcage that rapidly before [it never will again], language was too insufficient to capture your emotions that talking felt obsolete.

His name though. God, his name and the way it fell from your lips. He hadn’t heard anyone say it in so long. It felt like he was born again. And when you touched his face, soft hands that his own could never compare to were cushioning the tough parts of his jaw and cheekbone.

His heart sank when you touched the ‘J’ on his cheek. Tracing it up and down, side to side, like each time you rubbed it [a magic lamp] you gained a little bit of knowledge on what had happened, what that J really meant.

“Did he do this to you?” Your voice had quivered.

He could only take your hand by his cheek in his and nod: hum a small sound and let the tears meet your palm. You sighed, a breathy one laced with heartbreak: crestfallen, and said his name in that whispery, soft almost exasperated way he always loved.

You guys eventually sheltered from the rain, clothes and armour both sleek with the precipitation, a sad hug that couldn’t last forever. He couldn’t take you with him to the base, he wouldn’t dare even think it, and he obviously couldn’t go with you anywhere no matter how badly he wanted to until he changed out of his armour. So though it killed him to be apart from you even for a mere hour, he needed to be tactful, immediately assuming protection over you, and asked you to meet him in this little diner he knew that was open round the clock in two hours.

And so you did. You wanted to kiss him goodbye, hold his hand a little bit longer [a little bit forever], smell his scent a little bit clearer away from this rain and never leave his side again. But life is unfair; life is cruel [that is its very nature] and you agreed. Somehow, you [shakily] got yourself home to your parents’ place (your body refused to take the train back to your dormitory, stayed a little longer, desperately missed your usual stop) and cried in your room for an hour straight.

You waved your parents off by saying you didn’t do well in an exam (half-truth: you didn’t do great but you weren’t upset by it) and cried even longer till you watched the clocks click, heard the church bell croak and made your way to the diner [fresher mascara failed to conceal your ballooning, soggy eyes. outfit (still simple, an all grey matching set) barely saving you, hair forcefully brushed back].

As for Jason, he was nervous. Tense. Also shaky. His heart (just like your own) was creating music so poignant from hitting itself against his bones [too fast: it became a hum] and put his second-in-command in charge (the night was quiet, still the responsibility remained ever demanding). Boots the only part of what he wore unchanged.

He drove there. Parked his car a mile away so no one in that diner (it was empty besides the janitor and employee) could say they saw the Knight’s real face [unbearably paranoid, this car was completely different from the one the Knight drove]. Walked in the lighter, spitting rain for a short while, thinking about everything, until he arrived and his heart pounded again.

It was a long conversation. Lasted at least a few hours. And there were touches and movements and signals that were for anyone (besides the two of you: a true couple) too much to bear. The few times he made you laugh, the few times he could smile again, he realised how badly he truly needed you, realised how much easier it was to breathe with you next to him.

It killed him to ask you about the years he missed. It killed you to answer. And that’s when you confessed, came straight out with it to break a small silence, you had retired your line of work, danced around the ‘Batgirl’ title so not to give away anything too personal to the general public [now just the one employee: very sleepy, on her phone occupied].

And he was so glad you did. Glad you told him. Glad you did it. Selfishly, it meant he could sleep a little easier knowing you’re not risking your life every day and he isn’t there to protect you.

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. You respected it. Said only one thing about how much he misses him, and how he’s never been quite the same.

But only that, just that. Jason was [is] still quite sensitive. He was holding your hand and rubbing your fingers, trilled your knuckles like a xylophone with his thumb.

And eventually after a few weeks of long talks that soon became easy banter [tears sandwiched between] he asked you to stay the night. Which turned into you staying every week or so. To every week. To Mondays and Thursdays and Fridays. A few weekends from having sex the night before. Then summer came around and you never left, and you’ve been living there ever since.

To now. Where the Arkham Knight is limping, straightens his back any time he sees a squad of his troops to not appear weak—to leaving in his sleek black trimmed car. Drives home to you. A routine now.

The soft white noise of keys jingling is what perks you up, makes your ears twitch and flick and turn like a rabbit’s, curious and alert. You were up late studying for an exam you were meant to be retaking, but your revision was foggy and holed, your bed cold without Jason beside you.

The brim of your oversized shirt was riding up as you moved, immediately relieved as to hearing the door open so slowly and gently (Jason always assumed you were asleep, though you never are. Still he doesn’t want to startle you) and his heavy combat boots fee-fie-foe-fum in.

He’s dressed in all black, tight compression shirt he’d often wear underneath his armour, keeps him warm, protects his skin. He’s already kicking his boots off, and propping them up before moving to your shared room, immediately alleviated with your elegant and graceful presence coming out through the doorway. Sweet silhouette he’d always miss.

“Hey.” You say with a soft smile, dimples creeping in ever so slightly, head leaning against the frame.

“Hey, baby.” He says, voice dropped in a low hum only you were familiar with. He honestly shocks himself from how starkly different his voice is with you in comparison to how it is when he’s the Knight. Instantly, he walks toward you, kisses you warmly and holds your forearm. “Whatchu been doin?” He asks.

You stay looking up at him [he was quite a few inches taller than you] and your eyes are blooming with love, thin ring of colour in your eyes as your pupils expand. “Just been studying. Well—trying to at least. I hardly got anything done.” You confess.

“Why? What’s been goin’ on?”

You drop your head briefly [slight shame] and walk over to your bed as you speak: “I don’t know. My head’s just…not in the game. I can’t focus without scrolling on my phone or—I don’t know—taking hour long breaks doing nothing.” You look up at him innocently from your bed, stare at all the books and pens and sticky notes splayed about. Bite your lip anxiously, not wanting to be judged.

Here you are, complaining in your perfectly comfortable setting about your incredibly privileged opportunity to even be studying at a decent university whilst your boyfriend is out fighting tooth and nail against Gotham’s worst. You sigh, try to change the topic, “Sorry, I just—“

“Don’t apologise. Why you apologising for?” He sits down next to you, carefully moving some of your notebooks out the way, bed creaking slightly as he puts his weight down firmly.

You pull your knee up to your chest, stroke your calve up and down a bit, slightly hide yourself with your arm: “Cuz it’s dumb. I’m complaining about stupid shit whilst you’re literally fighting fucking—I don’t know—Harley or some shit.” You gesture at his entire body.

“Not even. You stick with it,” he taps at your open notebook, “And I promise it’ll work out.” He guarantees.

“Easy for you to say,” you smirk, putting your leg down, let it sway like you’re on a swing, “You used to get straight As in school.”

“That was a long time ago.” He reminds, still flattered by the compliment you were insinuating.

You shrug, “It’s still you.” You hold his gaze for a few seconds before your eyes wander down and catch his seeping blood, immediately sucking your teeth in feeling a phantom pain near the same bicep area before barely touching it with your fingertips.

Jason whines a bit, so lightly that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not have been sitting right next to him as you were now. “Jesus, Jason,” you say like a nervous mother, still inspecting the deep thing.

“It’s not that bad.” He firmly states [lie]. You look up and meet his eyes, immediately acknowledging the falsehood before dropping your gaze back down to the cut.

“I’ll get the first aid kit.” You say, quickly standing up.

Jason clicks his tongue and groans, he doesn’t like feeling like some sort of burden to you—especially when you shouldn’t be staying up this late.

“Don’t.” You say, glaring at him before leaving the room.

He hears the opening of the bathroom cabinet and the slight, almost out of ear shot rustling before you return, kit in hand.

“Arms up, lemme help you take your shirt off.” You instruct.

“I can take my own shirt off, Y/N.” He says, annoyed: nervous.

You sigh and brush off his petulance, “Don’t be like that, Jay.”

He sighs, out his nose, not his mouth, and apologises, “Sorry. I just hate doing this to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me, Jason. I want to help. If I wanted to go to sleep, I would’ve been snoring away by now.” You sit down.

“But I’m not. Here,” You help him out and pull the black shirt over his head, finger where the tear is. “Gonna have to tailor this.” Immediately your attention is drawn to the wound, dried blood splatted onto his white skin, little bits of the healing process already evident. You gently press around it seeing if it’ll bleed anymore, it does.

“Fuck, that’s really bad.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s only a little cut, I’ve survived worse.”

“Oh, I know you have,” You joke lightheartedly, give him eye contact when you say this and he smiles. You press again and he actively sucks his teeth in and groans. Your eyebrows crease and your mouth slips into a small frown. “I’m sorry.” You rub the skin by his cut in attempt to soothe him, small miniature circles with the pad of your thumb.

You stare at the cut, really hone in and analyse its little intricacies before coming to your conclusion based on the on-the-spot prognosis. “Jay, I think I’m gonna have to stitch this.”

He looks at you then lets his eyes drop down to the cut, “Alright. I trust you.”

You search through the first aid kit and take out a cotton pad and an antibacterial spray bottle before dosing the thick pad with it, watching its tone darken and it’s thickness disappear as it soaks and deflates. You bring your hand just above the cut and warn him, “This is gonna sting.”

He jokes, a little strained: “Do your worst.”

You can’t even smile at the joke with the concern that paints your whole face. Jay told you how much he hated being the Arkham Knight. How he admired your courage to retire and how he wants the same for himself too. His words. So why doesn’t he?

He hisses at the contact and you immediately apologise, “I’m sorry, baby. Just a little more and it’ll be over.” He nods, eyes wrinkled from how tightly shut they are. And again, a wince and a hiss from the stingy contact, hot and tinged.

You swipe your thumb over the cut, cleaning complete. “Okay, done. Good job.”

“Thanks.” He says. It makes you smile, and though you don’t look up at him, he notices this soft upturn of your lips that he quickly emulates, just sweetly content.

You take out the needle and thread. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to do this. “Now for the fun part. You ready?”

“Nah,” he casually throws.

“Okay,” you nod, a little nervous, perhaps more than he is [wrong: you were both equally scared.] You bring the sharp, glinting thing to the broken skin, just above even, and insert: pull it through and hear his little grunt. “Sorry,” you squint out of sympathy, before piercing the skin again: rinse and repeat.

As you continue to suture him, hear the odd thump of pain he sounds, you can’t help but left your mind run a million miles, eyebrows semi-permanently creased as you focus on the task at hand, but also how you hate to do this. Hate that this even has to be a thing. Why couldn’t you guys get to be normal? Normal boyfriend and girlfriend. Go to the movies, or a study date or whatever.

You notice how quiet he is, not that it was unusual, you actually enjoyed the silence but…you didn’t wanna be the one to confront the situation. Feels like you’ve done that enough times.

“Jason.” You say, [few more stitches left to go.]

“Yes?” He clearly replies.

You stay silent for a bit, let the absence of language speak for you. “You…” you start, then sigh, hone in on the final few pulls.

“What is it?” He asks, gently.

Your mouth frowns, you feel your lip quiver, the new company of tears in your eyes that you’re all too familiar with, fat drops collect and fall. He hears you sniffle and stays watching the carpet, too ashamed too face you, your tears a reminder for how he needs to quit this vigilante business asap. If not for him, at least for you.

He feels you kiss his newly sutured skin, then the way your thumb tenderly rubs back and forth, admiring your work but also caressing him, very very slightly. Painful, inside and out.

You grab a bandage and wrap it round a few times, Jason moves to accommodate, looks at you once then internally winces at the pain. Hurts more to see your sad face than a thousand stab wounds.

When you finally finish, put back the first aid kit that leaves the bathroom cabinet more often than not, you slump down next to him. Don’t even look at him when you speak, “I don’t think you understand how painful this is for me.”

“I think I do.” He says softly, looking at you. Your side profile, the way your nose looks so cute to him, and how pretty your lashes are. You pout again, try to hold back the heavy waterfall your eyes give. “C’mere.” He motions for you to sit on his lap, and you do, heavy heart anchoring you to the ground, makes your movement sluggish and slow: begrudged almost.

He smooths your hair by your ear, traces your jaw with his knuckle till he pinches your chin, tilts it up a bit, hurt by the red on your nose. “Don’t cry.” He says in a way that reminds you of your mother, or a beloved teacher at school after you hurt your knee from tripping up in the sandbox. It only makes you want to cry more, and you do, it kills him to watch your expression break into desperate heartbreak. “Oh.” He brings you into his embrace, hugs you and rubs your back, your hair, doesn’t even notice the sting from his arm.

You grab him hard, sob so innocent and kind, “I just don’t want you to die.” He kisses your neck, makes himself comfortable against you.

“I won’t.” He calmly says.

You pull back, face wet and shiny with tears. Tears that Jason wipes away, as he usually does: unfortunate routine.

“I’ll stop.” He grabs your hands, rubs your knuckles, kisses them like Prince Charming: respectful. “I promise you.”

You’re doubtful, but hold onto the little bit of hope you have left.

“I’ll go back to school or get a job, I don’t know, but I promise you, I’m done. Now can I see you smile?”

You give him a sad one, “I don’t think you mean that.” You honestly say.

He kisses you, a quick reminder of his love, “Baby, I swear. Love you too much to lie to you.”

You’re left in open-mouth surprise, give him a smile, and break into a sweet laugh. Genuine music to his ears [one of his favourite sounds, next to rain, and your moans] and you kiss him, gleefully, let that tiny hope bloom into something more, something grander, something bigger, before breaking away and hugging him tightly. “I love you, Jason.”

“I love you too.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[riaki]

santa claus and his treats | satoru gojo x f!reader pt.1 of christmas event! wc: 3.4k oops i went overboard | cw: petnames, literally j pure fluff ur both STUPID in love, he’s the cutest! happy birthday pretty boy 🧸

"'toru?" you called, voice filling the dimly lit room as you peeked your head in through the door. the curtains were drawn, the iridescent green tinsel dotted with soft yellow lights framing the doorway of your bedroom scratching your neck as you spotted the white-haired boy sitting on your shared bed, picking at something on his lower lip.

you took a moment to drink in the sight— his soft white hair that fell over dazzling sky-blue eyes, the color of the lake dotted with fragile crystalline snowflakes that melted into fresh spring streams that fed nature with new growth and fresh flower buds, a tangible warmth when his gaze fell on you and an easy smile stretched across his pink lips. a little too easy, you think. easy enough for you to miss the way he swipes a coffee brown crumb from his cheek; the smile has too much sugar and cream for you to buy it.

your eyes slowly drift from his charming grin to the rest of the room. there's a forest green tuft of leaves hanging from the ceiling on a thin golden string; you recognize the crimson red berries and waxed leaves with spots of pearl dotting as a bunch of mistletoe, hanging right over the mattress. clearly, he thought ahead.

you snuff the flush from your cheeks as he perks up at the sight of you, straightening his back. "hey, baby! you must be my present from santa this year," he laughs, holding his arms out, an invitation for you to crawl into his arms and curl up on his lap like two warm cats by the fireplace. you almost gave in— until you remembered why you were looking for him.

"you're getting coal this time, satoru." you said, huffing as you walked over to the mattress and put your hands on your hips, attempting to come off as intimidating in front of your boyfriend as you leaned over and stared down at him. he just giggled that sweet, boyish laughter of his, scooting closer and capturing you between two strong arms to tug you onto the bed with him. the sheets were soft, and they smelled like him as he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you like a life-sized plushie, all warmth and soft comfort that he craved so much.

"aww, really? but it's my birthday today," he sighed loudly, shaking his head as he firmly planted his hands on either side of your head to prevent you from worming away and planting a loud smooch on the top of your hair, before laughing as you pulled away from his grasp and gave him a glare. “besides, you’re anything but a bad gift.” he smiles.

“don’t sweet talk me, ‘toru. you’ve been naughty this year.” he wiggles his eyebrows at that, and you shoot him a sharp glare which just earns you a light scoff, but there’s a smile mirrored on both of your lips.

(maybe they’ve met so many times in the past that they know how to copy the other flawlessly.)

"but you're already here, my love. lookin' all pretty like the angel on top of our tree." he hums, crossing his legs and holding his ankles as he rocks back and forth; the teddy bear he won you from the arcade on your first date is face planted into the pillows by his side, donning a festive red santa hat. the white fluffy pom pom looks like satoru's hair, and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

"how kind of you, satoru." and you mean it— he looks like his own christmas angel; snowy hair and pretty blue eyes clad in a loose black tee with cheap printed red and green christmas lights over his chest. he looks unfairly attractive with those gray sweatpants on, too. you wouldn't mind wrapping him up in yellow ribbon and presenting him to your parents this year as your holiday present from santa, and then having your own fun with him later. you suppose you must've been perfectly good to land him; so pretty and fun, bubbling laughter that speaks of his care in volumes. and he’s their soon-to-be son-in-law, after all. and he’s a golden catch.

but it’s time for this white betta to be put in his place; he’s gone snooping where he shouldn’t have— or rather, scavenging would be the more appropriate choice. and he’s about to be skinned for entering the lion(fish)'s den. your matching red-green plaid pajama pants won't save him this time.

"sorry, baby, but you can't talk yourself out of this one." you said firmly, scooting closer to him as you sat back on your knees and gave him a look as pointed and narrow as the icicles melting on the frosted awnings. to anyone else, you might look like a wet, angry cat— but to satoru, it was enough to strike fear straight into the center of his heart. his fight-or-flight response kicked in (it only ever did with you)— and it was as if you could see the change in his demeanor. his eyes voluntarily softened, lids drooping as a lazy smile drifted over his lips like fluffy white clouds over a pale sun on a winter's morning.

"aww, don't be like that. my princess looks so much prettier when she's happy," he coos, all milk and honey as he reaches out and catches your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse beating beneath your soft skin as he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles. so he chooses to fight, and you almost fold— almost.

you twist your arm in his grasp, eliciting a whiny yelp of pain; getting him to let go of you as you quickly flick his forehead. even so, he lets you-- he never turns infinity on around you, even at the price of his own sanctity.

you sighed when he gave you a dramatic pout, sticking out his bottom lip as he hung his head low in defeat like a golden retriever being scolded by his owner, soft hair falling over his pretty blues. his hands come up to cradle his head, rubbing the spot where you'd knicked him. "don't play around, satoru. where are the cookies i baked last night?" you asked, reflecting his frown with a pointed glare. if looks could cut, he'd be a red christmas on the cloudlike sheets. you were tired of beating around the bush, especially when satoru had a knack for making it utterly exhausting. nevertheless, it went on.

"maybe santa came early," he quipped, giggling at his own joke. "you never know, huh? he's an unpredictable old geezer. likes his milk and cookies, or so i heard."

"didn't know santa claus had the six eyes." you deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest and looking him square in the eyes. "and he shaved his beard off, apparently." he feigns hurt, holding a hand over his heart in mock anguish.

"i'm no thief! it hurts me to know you think of me so low, sweetheart." he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. outside, the snowy wind howls in agreement. "besides, it's my birthday. you're suffocating the spirit, honey." he drawls.

you just roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms and shifting to sit closer to him. you will your irritated expression to soften, and it's reflected in the way satoru immediately relaxes, shoulders sagging as the anxious look in his eyes vanishes like the wilting ghost of fall on a christmas eve, leaving behind the scent of bluebells and frost on the wind. he thinks you've forgiven him.

that's just what you need. for him to let his guard down so you can spring the trap on him. santa may be able to get away with his yearly trespassing, but satoru's entered the property of more than your heart this time, and it's time for his holiday retribution.

"give me your hand, satoru." you said softly, voice barely a breath above a whisper. he obliges almost immediately, scooting closer on the bed so that his knees graze against yours, and you hear him suck in a little breath at the contact as your hand finds his.

you take his palm in your own; his hands are considerably bigger than yours, but you still manage to run a thumb over the ridges of his knuckles, gently massaging the soft skin over weary bones. a sweet little noise leaves his breathless lips; it's almost like a purr, and when you glance up at him he's almost as red as the glittering velvet bulbs dangling from the primmed branches of your christmas tree. he looks away, a subtle pout weighing down on his lips as he coughs loudly, as if the amber sap of a pine tree has caught in his throat, scratchy like tree bark.

"what are you doing?" he whispers, voice rough and hoarse, like someone took a fireplace stoker and poked his throat. almost a protest.

but you can feel him melting into you, and soon enough, he’s sandwiched you between his warmth and the fluffy blankets, the scent of apples and cinnamon weaved between the strands of his soft white hair as they tickle your flushed skin. his lips are soft and pliant and warm against your own; he's all over you, hands finding your wrists to trace tender, wobbly circles over your thrumming pulse with his thumb. he's robbing your lungs of air, needy in the way he cages you between his lanky limbs, lock and key with his free hand threading through your hair. he can never get enough of you, and he throws his inhibitions to the frostbitten wind if they mean learning to resist you.

it's spread around you like ripples on the surface of a misty lake, and when he draws away to stare down at you, eyes blown wide with a certain shine in his eye that reminds you of glowing embers, jumping from the lively blossom of fire on the grated dark metal of a hearth, there's a cheeky lopsided grin on his glossy lips. his fingers are slender, pale and callused, a gentle flushed at the tips.

"there was a mistletoe," he says breathlessly, as if that'll excuse him. as if he needs an excuse to kiss you. you just laugh, reaching up to trace his jaw with a finger, and he shudders despite the heater inside your room. the bunch of green leaves and red berries hanging above you sways in agreement.

but you can't focus on the dreamy look on his face; that lazy smile that dances over his lips and illuminates his features like twinkling christmas lights catching on each edge of a carefully cut snowflake, the sky's jewels. every time he looks at you as if you've crafted each intricacy of his world; patched the colors together and taught the light to reflect, you feel as though there are bubbles in your throat, and you have to cough them away when they're accompanied by a familiar rush of heat to your face.

it's all overpowered. strongly, by the rich taste of cinnamon. rich, sweet, distinctly festive, mixed with brown sugar and cookie batter; flour on the matching aprons satoru bought for the two of you, except the 'he' on 'he cooks' has been messily crossed out and replaced with a scribble that says 'she', and vice versa. it's on his tongue, his lips, the little dips on the corner of his mouth that makes him look like a kitten every time he grins. it tastes like wearing matching christmas sweaters, sampling sweet treats fresh out of the oven and laughing cheerily in your little cozy kitchen of warmth when he burns his tongue, a sour look on his face that wrinkles his nosebridge.

but, most importantly, it tastes like condemnation.

you sit up, briefly (and painfully) knocking foreheads with him when he's too slow to mirror your actions, but the complaint that's ready to stain the air like chimney soot dies on his tongue when he sees the look on your face. you look the same as you did the first time you found out he'd forgotten to pick up megumi and tsumiki from school. in other words, pissed.

"hey, pretty girl. you should smile; you look less like an ogre when you do—" he hastily starts, laughing nervously as he runs his hands through his messy hair. you've noticed that whenever you neglect to toy with the silky soft strands when you're tangled with him, whether it be kissing, cuddling, or... something else, he'll do it afterward as if to emulate the feeling of your fingers in his hair, even if it 'screws it up'. apparently, his skyscraper ego is too fragile to ask for headscratches.

"just a minute, satoru." you cut him off through gritted teeth, lips that should be stretched in a wide smile pressed together in frustration. your eyes narrow as you straighten up, sitting back on your ankles. "you ate them, didn't you?" your fingers dig into his skin, pinching his cheek. if his skin wasn't already stained crimson with boyish excitement, it would be an angry red now. you give killer pinches; he knows firsthand.

which is why he should've thought ahead and listened to the angel on his shoulder when you were knocked out earlier, curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, snoozing away. what was he to do? the cookies you'd made were calling his name. and it was for his birthday, and they were made for him. so why couldn't he indulge?

this was why.

and you know you've pinned him with your accusation like a throwing dart on a cork board; the way his gaze bounces around the room and his smile turns a hint sheepish and a handful guilty speaks volumes enough before he can even protest. but he can feel your wrath like an entire mine's worth of coal in his stockings, so he quickly throws his hands up, shimmying away from your angry pinch. the sheets bunch beneath him.

"listen, sweets, i just thought that— well, i'm sorry, baby, they just looked so good. and i only ate a few! i swear." satoru says solemnly, getting on his knees and throwing himself before you. he knows you're unamused— sitting there, crosslegged, looking down at him as if he's some chewed up gum you found on the bottom of your shoe. he might as well be. blueberry flavored, maybe? or mint, he's fine with that too—

"so you did." you just sigh, flicking his hunched shoulders, before you go soft again, and he sees pink. you reach forward, fingers creeping beneath his chin to tilt his face up. his skin is soft and warm beneath your skin, thrumming with a life and heat the poor overworked radiator in your room could never measure up to. and when he does look up, his starstruck gaze meets your own; you look ethereal in the warm light, and he wonders why he hasn't put a ring on your finger or started a family with you yet. maybe that can be the last gift to top off the cake of your overflowing knitted stocking, hanging from the kitchen counter; a mahogany box with golden hinges who's shine pales in comparison to the diamond ring in the center of the velvet.

he tucks the idea into his mental notes and grins, a cheeky flash of teeth. "so you forgive me, right?"

wrong. he should know better than to push his luck. especially when it comes to you.

the hand beneath his chin creeps up his face to squeeze his cheeks together, forcing his lips to pucker like a fish out of water as he tries to escape to no avail. you glare down at him, all needles. not at all in the holiday spirit, if you ask him. his face is squishy as a pillow beneath your fingers, and a smile resurfaces on your lips after a long struggle to keep it submerged.

he opens his mouth, no doubt to wail like a newborn, and you quickly withdraw, knowing better than to continue your assault. "geez! okay, fine. sorry. i ate them, you grinch." he grumbles, rubbing his squished cheek as he pouts and looks away, shrinking in on himself. his shirt is bundled beneath his arms, slipping off one of his shoulders to expose a pleasant flush on his neck. "seriously! you're such a killjoy. there's no fun in waiting," he smiles mischievously, wiggling his toes and nudging you with his foot. the fabric of his fuzzy reindeer socks bumps against your thigh, and you make another face at the red pom poms on the crudely-knit rudolph face.

"apologize." you emphasize each syllable, letting them fall off your tongue. they jut into his side like blows to his ribs; he falls back onto the bed for extra dramatics, letting it squeak beneath his weight.

"oh, the horror! to think that i'd be reduced to such a state—"

"satoru."

"—that i, head of the gojo clan, the honored one—”

"satoru gojo."

"should be forced to bow to such pious customs at the foot of scrooge—"

"gojo!"

you reach over to threateningly pinch him again, and he rolls away, tossing a fuzzy pillow into the air and kicking it at you like he's playing some cursed form of tennis. you scowl, catching the cushion and tossing it back at him. it lands square on his face, and he whines, crying about how you've ruined his beautiful, youthfully full, gorgeous face; how is he ever going to pretend to be santa and let pretty girls sit on his lap now? —and that one earns him another pinch to his arm.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry, my love. you're not the grinch, or scrooge, and i shouldn'tve eaten the cookies." he sighs, excruciatingly slow as he inches towards you again, wary of but wanting your warmth all the same. it's too cold to be alone this morning, anyway.

"without me." you corrected, unable to wipe the light grin from your face, and you watch as his face lights up, like a kid seeing his dream christmas present in the window display of a bright shop, hidden behind frosted glass and cold air.

he sits up again, scooting close and opening his arms once more. this time, you oblige, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck. now he’s the one with his back flush against the mattress, soft as a cloud of cotton candy. he laughs, and it rumbles through his chest when his hands find the back of your head and he tucks your head beneath his chin, cradling your neck.

"without—" punctuated with a kiss to the top of your head, "you." satoru finishes, and you can hear the grin in his voice, cheery as a christmas carole. his arms snake around your waist, squeezing lightly as one hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt to gently rub your back. his fingers against your skin feels like the touch of a butterfly, wings like stained glass.

"how about this, pretty? we can make more together." he suggests, resting his chin on top of your head. you're smushed into his chest, the printed material of his christmas light t-shirt scratching your face, and the only thing you can manage to breathe is the cheap cologne you bought him (you don't understand why he uses it when he could afford the best of his own), but suddenly you can't bring yourself to mind. so you nod, and he chuckles.

"d'ya still wanna do cinnamon?" he asks softly, slipping his free hand into your hair to play with the strands, holding you close and cozy in his embrace. the burning heat of friction between your numb hands or a roaring fireplace don't compare to the warmth he brings you, soft and sweet and painfully human. and you can't really make yourself feel upset at the pretty boy with snow-white hair holding you anymore.

"nah. let's do peanut butter chocolate chip." you hum, muffled, and he laughs, hearty and full, the kind that makes his entire body tremble a little. and you can feel it, so you tilt your head up to peer up at him. there's a stray pine needle in his hair; must've been from your hazardously decorated christmas tree. he looks down at you and smiles, brushing your hair from your eyes and leaning in to kiss your forehead. it’s like a crimson wax stamp sealing his love letter to you.

he cuddles you close, tufts of his soft hair tickling your face like a tacky christmas sweater. "sounds unhealthy. but whatever you want, baby. santa's gonna give you all you ask this year." and this time, he doesn't use the mistletoe as an excuse to brush his lips against yours when you move to pick the pine needle from his hair. he smells like vanilla, swirled like espresso with a hint of cinnamon.

he may have enjoyed his cookies and milk without you, but there's nowhere else he’d rather be— no one else he'd rather share the rest of his time with, be it baking, decorating, or lazy naps in each other’s arms. after all, half the jolliness of the holiday season comes from being with you.

fish analogies went crazy… happy bday gojo !!! my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter six

| discontinued until further notice

| previous

masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

a/n: !! chapter warnings !! PTSD, unintentional s*lf-harm / It is NOT gonna get better for her XD!!!!

You woke the next morning to Layla scurrying around the room you slept in. You weren’t surprised to see the woman here. You knew she would’ve been hot on your tail the moment you left London. “Layla?”

You noted how hoarse your throat felt as you slowly sat up with a groan. The woman stopped in her tracks and quickly made her way over to you with a soft call of your name. “How are you feeling? I started to get nervous about whether you were going to wake up or not.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you shook the drowsiness away.

Memories of what happened the previous day came flooding back and you looked down at your bandaged hand. It was clear it had been cleaned and rewrapped but there was still confusion floating within your mind. “What do you mean you were nervous? I just slept through the night.” Layla sat at the end of the bed with a look of pity. “You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

A few beats of silence followed before you shot to your feet…almost pushing Layla off the bed in the process. “TWO DAYS?!” And as quickly as you got up…you fell down. All the blood rushing to your head, causing black dots to encase your vision. If it weren’t for Layla catching you, you would’ve fallen to the floor.

The woman hissed out your name with worry as she slowly sat you back on the bed. “The Scarab? Harrow? Marc?” His name left a bitter taste in your mouth as you dropped your head into your hands. You remembered what you said…what you did. Layla rubbed your arm silently. “I’m guessing Marc told you what happened?” You asked without lifting your head.

A small hum of confirmation left the woman’s mouth before she spoke. “He was lucky we were in the middle of a market, otherwise I would’ve punched him.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips before you raised your head. “I can’t believe I snapped like that. J-Just Marc simply saying ‘sorry’ and thinking that would fix everything sent me over the edge. And Steven.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you sighed. “I can’t even imagine what he must think about me now.” You turned to Layla with tear-filled eyes. “He probably thinks I’m an animal.” Layla slightly shook her head and allowed yours to fall against her shoulder as she began to speak.

“I can tell you one thing, Marc deserved everything you gave to him. What he said was disgusting and shameful. We know that man is not easy and I’m surprised it took you so long to finally snap at him…but I am surprised he said sorry. I mean…Marc never took accountability for his actions like that.” As Layla continued to speak, you had moved your hands to wrap around her arm. “But he did it with you.” You felt her shake her head.

“I am not saying that what Marc did was okay, but it is clear that he does regret it. He regrets it because he cares about you.” A small grumble passed your lips as you snuggled closer to Layla. “What has he been doing while I was asleep?” You questioned. “Mostly running around trying to find leads. He just left this morning chasing after another. He’ll probably be back later.”

A few seconds of silence followed before you whispered. “Also…I may have confessed to him.” Another pregnant pause filled the air as Layla took your words in. “WHAT!?” Now, it was Layla’s turn to almost knock you over as she shot to her feet. There was always an unspoken thing between the two of you about how you felt.

She never got confirmation about your feelings towards the man, but she always knew something was there. And she knew it went both ways even if you didn’t. Now, that once unspoken thing was gone as you spent the rest of the morning talking to her about everything.

-

“KHONSHU MAKE IT STOP!” Your pleas meant nothing to the god as he gazed up towards the moon. The full moon. “You know this is your punishment for what you did all those years ago.” He spat the words out with hatred. “You are nothing but a disgusting dog.”

Then he vanished, leaving you pushed up against a wall as you buried your head into your knees. You could hear them…calling you…cursing you. “–YOU MONSTER–HOW COULD YOU DO THIS–YOU KILLED US–IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT–”

You tried to scream back at them, but each time they grew louder and louder until you eventually found a spot curled against the wall. Knees to your chest whilst your hands covered your ears in a futile attempt to drown them out. It didn’t work.

“–YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF DEAD–BEAST–MONSTER–MURDER–” Wails tumbled from your mouth as you rocked back and forth. Mouth wide, spewing apologies that would never be heard…eyes snapped shut but still seeing what Khonshu forced you to see.

You slid along the wall until your head pushed into the ground. Now, fully on your knees you began to smash your forehead against the floor. “stop…please stop…” was all that left your mouth with each hit. That’s when Marc finally made it back.

The moment he stepped out from within the pyramid and saw the full moon he was quick to make his way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he was too late. By the time he got there you had already busted your head open, causing a small puddle of blood to pool against the floor. Your cries came out low and cracked as your throat grew weaker and weaker.

“stop…please stop…” A lump lodged itself within his throat as he made his way over to you. He wasn’t going to abandon you…not again. Slowly, Marc bent down and said your name. His hand ever so lightly brushed against your shoulder as he spoke.

With one final smack you went still and the room went silent once more. “A-Are they here?” Your words dripped from your mouth in the smallest tone Marc has ever heard. He muttered your name once more. “No…no one is here. You’re okay.” Steven watched from inside and his heart never felt so heavy. You carried so much. Suffered so much.

Steven could feel the guilt growing in Marc’s chest but he didn’t know it was because Marc blamed himself for being so late. If he got here quicker the night would’ve been easier. You wouldn’t have slipped so far to the point you believed what Khonshu made you see was real.

He watched as you slowly lifted your head to look at him…and when you did a fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes. Tears of relief. In a blink of an eye you had launched yourself into the man’s arms with sobs. “You came back!” You wailed. Despite the blood, tears and snot that began covering his shirt he held you as if you would disappear with the wind. “I got you. I got you.” And he did.

With effortless movements, the man pulled you into his arms and led you to the bathroom where he cleaned your head. Then he moved to the bed where he pulled the covers over your heads like a child would in an attempt to hide from a monster. All while you clung to him. “Don’t leave me, Marc.”

The warmth from your breath crashed against his skin and created goosebumps. Your head was tucked into his neck as you curled yourself into his body. Hands clasping handfuls of his shirt. His chest burned as he placed a feather-like kiss upon your head. “I’ll never leave you again.” Was the last words you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

The warmth he offered melted away the cold that seeped through your bones with each passing second. As you lay tangled within his arms, Marc heard Steven softly speak. “You love her…don’t you?”

-

You woke up during the early hours of the morning. The sun barley began peaking over the horizon, slowly changing the dark sky into one filled with hues of yellow and orange. With lazy blinks your vision steadied as you sat up, careful of the arm that fell across your stomach.

The day after a full moon always left you in a strange state. A state in which you almost weren’t in your body. Like bits of your being floated around…desperate to return to you. The pain along your head didn’t help with the feeling either. The only thing grounding you was him.

You looked over your shoulder to look at Marc…and Steven. Quickly, you shut your eyes to combat the sting of tears. You were embarrassed…ashamed at what Steven saw. Marc was used to the full moons. He helped you through them so many times…but not Steven. Because of your internal struggle you didn’t notice the bed sheets move until you heard his voice call out your name.

You kept your back towards Marc as he sat up, the warmth provided by his arm disappearing as he moved it away. “H-How are you feeling?” His tone was lighter than a feather, almost as if he was afraid to spook you with anything louder. Your mouth opened to say something but the only thing that came out was a soft sob.

Marc sat straighter and hesitantly brushed his hand across your forearm. Then he said your name again, causing you to slowly look at him. The moment your eyes locked he watched tears pool over your puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, Marc.” His eyes saddened as he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” That’s when his gaze dropped. “I should’ve been there sooner. If I had, it might've not gotten so bad.”

That’s when he started telling you about the meeting with the gods. “I know you’re upset with me right now, but you have to know that I would never leave you alone during a full moon.” And you believed him. You believed him, because since your first full moon together he never left you alone. Marc watched as you wiped your tears away and slightly moved so you could face him better before replying. “I can never stay upset with you, Marc.”

The man took note of the new look that swirled in your eyes. You inhaled deeply before you gently cupped the man’s cheeks. Your eyes never leaving his as your thumbs lightly stroked his five o’clock shadow. “I could never stay upset with you because…” A soft gasp left your mouth when you felt his large hand graze your thigh as he leaned closer.

His scent made your head spin as your mouth ran dry, making it almost impossible to say what your heart burned to say. “I know.” Marc’s words kissed your lips with how close he had gotten. Both his and your breathing grew heavy with each passing second. Then, in the blink of an eye, the tension snapped and your lips crashed into one another.

The kiss was different from the one you shared with Steven to save him from a panic attack. While that kiss was gentle, this one was rough and hungry. Teeth clashed together while hands wandered. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands gripped your thigh and cupped your chin.

Your bodies were so close it was as if you would mold together. Despite the words going unspoken, both you and him knew just how much you meant to one another in that moment.

-

a/n: Sometimes I find it hard to write romance because I've never really felt it before so forgive me if it's kinda bad. Also finished writing and posted this around one in the morning sO.

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099 / @peachyrue-777 / @queerponcho / @aristokatastrophy / @phoenixgurl030

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Bronze

@wolfstarmicrofic August 8, word count 662

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius sunk into their new sofa and seriously contemplated packing in the café altogether just so he could spend all day cocooned on this little bit of luxury. That was until James came barrelling in the front door with a glitter-covered gift bag. 

“No, no, no, no!” Sirius screeched when James plonked it down on the cushion and rainbow glitter showered from the bag and imbedded itself in the ridiculously soft fabric. “Remus!” He pleaded as he started to hyperventilate. Remus carefully picked up the bag and deposited it on top of one of their bills on the coffee table before grabbing the handheld hoover from the coat cupboard. Sirius didn’t think he breathed properly until every spot of glitter was diligently removed by Remus. “James Fleamont Potter, are you actively trying to kill me or have you been drinking again?” James looked at him confusedly. 

“Erm, what?”

“Brand new sofa!” Sirius pointed at the sofa. “Fairy dust from the pits of hell!” He pointed at the gift bag twinkling innocently on the coffee table. 

“What, it’s only glitter. I thought you liked sparkly things,” James held out his hands, not understanding where Sirius's rage was coming from. 

“Sweetheart, I think you’re forgetting that not everyone hates glitter the way you do and that the bag does in fact hold a gift,” Remus said gently as he stroked the back of Sirius’s neck, attempting to calm him down. 

“Shit, sorry James, it’s just a pet peeve of mine. That shit gets everywhere, and it just keeps popping up even when you haven’t had glitter in your home for months. Thank you for the kind thought though,” He said a bit sheepishly. 

“No worries,” James brushed it off. Sirius loved how easy his best friend was, he never held grudges and could generally be won back with a slice of honeycomb cheesecake and a good cup of tea. 

Sirius carefully opened the top of the gift bag, trying hard not to wince when a cascade of glitter fell off the bag when the tape snapped. He took out the rectangular item wrapped in tissue paper and stepped away from the bag, lest he get any of the shiny demon microplastic disks on his clothing. 

He tugged at the small strip of tape and unwrapped the gift. It was a wooden plaque. He flipped it over and etched onto a bronze plate were the words ‘Howlin’ at the Moon, owned by Sirius O Black & Remus J Lupin.’ With the outline of a wolf howling up at the moon. “James,” He said in awe. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” He brushed his fingers across the lettering, tracing each letter. He spotted some odd dots beside the moon and when he looked closer he realised it was his constellation. “Canis Major,” He gasped, looking up at James. 

“I wanted it to be something really personal for you guys to put on the wall of the café as an opening gift. The wall was looking a little bare.” James beamed broadly at them. Sirius and Remus wrapped their friend in the tightest hug the two of them could give.

“You giant goofball, we love you. Can we go put it up now?” Sirius looked at Remus hoping he'd say yes. 

“That’s why I bought my drill with me,” James patted the end of the power drill poking out of his pocket. 

They walked over to the café, using the side entrance so no one would think they were open, and watched James expertly put up the plaque. They stood together and admired the shiny plaque for a while until it got too dark to see without the lights on and went home for a cheeky takeaway, kept well away from the new sofa. Sirius volunteered to take the rubbish out to the wheelie bin after they'd finished and were tidying up. He snatched that god's forsaken glitter monstrosity off the coffee table and threw it out as well. 

Next part

[laurenairay]

I loved and I loved and I lost you - J. Hughes

Summary: Sometimes, relationships just end.

Warnings: Pure angst

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I don’t know even know what this is or where it came from, but here it is. Needed to get some angst off my chest in the healthiest way I could think of, and I feel so much better for it. Hopefully I’ll write something for Jack that’s not so angsty another time!

Title from Hurts Like Hell, by Fleurie

*

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

You didn’t know when the end had started. There wasn’t anything in particular that had triggered this downfall, this spiral that you’d been floating on for as long as you could remember. Parties had lost their shimmer, all the laughter and conversations feeling stilted and fake. Nights out clubbing had lost all their energy, the loud music and bright lights grating like they never had before. Date nights were rare, as were the random romantic surprises he’d dotted around in the first year or so. Watching him play hockey felt like you were just going through the motions, barely able to feel anything when you would once scream with pride. Even nights in together were lacklustre, as infrequent as they were, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa like the two of you were flatmates rather than lovers.

Somewhere along the line, your relationship with Jack Hughes had drifted into nothingness, and you didn’t know how to salvage it. You longed for his laughter, his love, his touch, but you weren’t sure you knew how to ask anymore. Gone were the days where you felt cherished and adored, all replaced with brief kisses in passing and half-hearted words that felt rehearsed. Everything inside you that used to bubble over with excitement and joy and wonder felt like an aching chasm, empty and depleted, nothing left to recover. Like you were trying to grab at frayed strings to hold onto, but it all just flickered out into smoke between your fingers. You wondered if it was the same for Jack too, although he’d never said a word about the obvious diminishing of the passion between you two. It felt like you were a ghost, drifting along at his side, just simply existing in a world that used to make you feel like you were on fire.

It was almost a relief when Luke signed to the team, moving in with the two of you.

And it helped you see that it wasn’t all just in your head – Jack had changed. The apathy he’d been showing you for longer than you cared to admit was nowhere to be seen when he interacted with his brother. That laughter you fell in love with years ago filled your apartment where it had been so quiet before. The rapid conversation, filled with energy and jokes, once again lit up Jack’s body like a livewire, the two brothers making the apartment feel like a home once more. Even the smile that had made you weak at the knees when you first met him had made its way back – and you couldn’t remember when he had stopped smiling like that at you to begin with. You had no doubt that you held blame in this crumbling relationship too. In a way, the fact you hadn’t noticed how bad everything had gotten was damning in itself. Your own blindsided realisations had to have come from somewhere, and you knew in your heart that Jack wasn’t the only one at fault for letting things get to how they are. It felt like you were just moving along in a fog, the public kissing and hand-holding some kind of act, and you knew you shouldn’t feel so empty, not like this. But you couldn’t stop any of it, couldn’t vocalise any of it, thoughts feeling like they were in slow motion while the rest of the world raced by. How had things gone from so good to so bad so quietly?

There was no anger, no burning need to confront him, no reason to hate him to any degree. He’d never cheated, couldn’t even fathom the thought, and neither had you. There were no lingering arguments, no irritations, no hurtful reasons for you to leave, not really. There was just…nothing. Nothing left inside that held any meaning, not like it used to. You felt nothing when you once felt on top of the world, consumed with joy and love and laughter, and knowing the difference? Knowing how much you felt before compared to how little you felt now? That cut you deep most of all.

It was all of this that made your decision easier than you thought.

When you thought about a future with him, all you could picture was an endless tunnel, taking steps forward each day with an interminable road in front of you. No journey, no destination, just emptiness. A void, if you will, and if nothing else that scared you. What was there to stay for, if there was no future you could envision with him?

Why stay?

It was only once that thought passed your mind that you felt a clarity for the first time in a long time. A beacon of hope out of the darkness that had taken over you so completely. Leaving Jack was your answer.

Leaving Jack.

Leaving Jack?

A different kind of ache filled your chest as your decision settled into your bones, the deep unnerving sadness of a life together that could’ve been wonderful if it hadn’t fallen apart. A swirling pool of missed opportunities, a life you could’ve had, all washing away down the drain like it meant nothing at all when it had once meant everything to you. Because it had been your everything, once upon a time. You’d loved Jack with your whole heart, body, and soul…but those feelings were gone, that love was nowhere to be found. It had all left you – and now you had to leave too.

While Jack was away with the team, you packed your bags. Years together had accumulated a lot of shared belongings, and in what felt like a haze you picked up only the things that you knew Jack wouldn’t claim as his own. Years together melted down into a few bags, a couple of suitcases, and half a dozen boxes. Everything that had once symbolised your life together, reduced to essentially nothing. Nothing. Staring at the pile by the front door only made you feel even more hollow, like you were cracked open without anything holding back the aching in your chest, and it was all you could do to retreat back to the bedroom you’d once shared, tearing a page out of a notepad Jack always left on his nightstand.

It didn’t feel enough, writing him a goodbye letter. It didn’t feel enough and yet there was nothing more you could do in this moment. You couldn’t call him – you knew he would be too busy to answer. And if he did answer, what good would that do with him down in California with the team? He couldn’t come back and you couldn’t bear the thought of him asking you to stay. Or not asking you to stay at all. Texting him felt too bland, even if it would be as impassionate as you felt right now. A sentence typed out on a phone felt too impersonal for all the memories you had together, the ones that you’d been clinging to longer than you could remember. Not saying anything at all would just be cruel, and as much as your relationship had reduced to wisps of air, he deserved more than that.

That didn’t mean it hurt any less to write down your thoughts on the page. As you struggled to write out the words that’ll end everything, all the missing emotions slammed into your chest, both stabbing and twisting in sharp agony, and overwhelming you like a tidal wave, leaving you stranded in shock as you struggled to breathe. A high keening noise filled your ears, and it wasn’t until you gasped for a jagged breath that you realised the noise was clawing out from your own throat. Tears trailed down your cheeks, obscuring your vision as your writing continued on, shaky in this final act to sever what remained between the two of you. Tears. These tears were the first you’d shed, and they felt like a river cascading down your face, dripping off your chin, stinging your eyes. An unending river draining your emotions from your body for what felt like hours, until you were left gasping for breath with a red puffy face, washed out and dried out like a husk.

But it was done. With your final words to him, you let your heart start to let him go, head swimming with the dull throb of losing the boy that had been your rock for so long, your safe space. Where were you supposed to go from here? What were you supposed to do without him? It was overwhelming, finally knowing what it was like to be alone, having nothing to hold onto. But you’d been alone for a while, in truth, and it took the last of your willpower to leave the note on your pillow for him to find, for whenever he returned home. With one last look at the bed the two of you shared, the ache in your heart almost too much to bear, you left, walking away from the life you once shared with Jack into a future that you had no idea what to do with.

But it was for the best. It had to be.

~

Dear Jack,

If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. I’ve loved you, and I’ve lost you. I don’t know when but it hurts like hell. What we had has been over for a while and I don’t think either of us knew how to change that. So I’m changing that for us. Someone has to, before we wind up hating each other and I can’t bear the thought of poisoning the happy memories we shared. I know you must hate me right now, but in time you’ll thank me for walking away when both of us should’ve left a long time ago I hope you find someone who makes you as happy as we once were.

Take care of yourself x

~

Tagging a few who might like this: @wyattjohnston @starshine-hockey-girl @senditcolton​ @fallinallincurls​ @thebookofmags​ @sorryjustafangirl @jostyriggslover96​ 

[baabaapinksheep]

Kendrick-Drake Beef Playlist

(Disclaimer: All accusations between the two artists are alleged. As of 5/9/24, there has been no formal investigation regarding allegations of sexual trafficking, abuse to minors, illegitimate children, or domestic violence. Viewer discretion is advised.) Out of the loop? Here's the track list of disses in order:

1) Control (Big Sean ft. Kendrick Lamar & Jay Electronica)

Infamous enough that former President Barack Obama was asked who would win a rap battle between Kendrick and Drake. He chose Kendrick Lamar.

Bout who's the best MC? Kendrick, Jigga and Nas I'm usually homeboys with the same n---a I'm rhymin' wit But this is hip hop and them n---as should know what time it is And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale Pusha T, Meek Millz, A$AP Rocky, Drake

2) First Person Shooter (Drake ft. J Cole)

First response from Drake after Control dropped, this time featuring J Cole who completed the ultimate trifecta of today's popular rap artists.

Love when they argue the hardest MC Is it K Dot, is it Aubrey or me? We the big three like we started the league But right now, I feel like Muhammad Ali

3) Like That (Future, Metro Boomin, Kendrick Lamar)

Second response after FPS. Kendrick refuses to share the crown with Drake and J Cole and challenges them for the top spot.

Think I won't drop the location? I still got PTSD Motherfuck the big three, n---a, it's just big me N---a, bum, what? I'm really like that And your best work is a light pack N---a, Prince outlive Mike Jack N---a, bum, 'fore all your dogs gettin' buried That's a K with all these nines, he gon' see Pet Sematary

4) 7 Minute Drill (J Cole)

J Cole decides to beef with Kendrick after being called out in Like That. He quickly disowned 7 Minute Drill and days later apologized to Kendrick Lamar during a live show. Allegedly, after hearing that the beef between Kendrick and Drake was serious, J Cole bowed out of the beef because he thought it was a friendly competition.

He still doin' shows But fell off like the Simpsons Your first shit was classic Your last shit was tragic If he wasn't dissin' Then we wouldn't be discussin' him

5) Push Ups (Drake)

While J Cole ducks for cover, Drake moves forward with the beef, though it's also a collective diss to Rick Ross, and Metro Boomin. This is also where he drops Kendrick's fiancee's name, Whitney and makes fun of his height. You won't ever take no chain off of us How the fuck you big steppin' with a size-seven men's on? This the bark with the bite, n---a, what's up? I know my picture on the wall when y'all cook up Extortion baby, whole career, you been shook up 'Cause Top told you, "Drop and give me fifty," like some push-ups, huh

6) Taylor Made Freestyle (Drake ft. Tupac AI and Snoop Dogg AI)

Second shot at Kendrick, this was released on IG. Drake uses AI for this track, using Snoop Dogg and 2Pac to taunt Kendrick. 2Pac's estate demanded that the track be taken down as it was an unauthorized use of 2Pac's voice. Drake eventually took the track down, but the damage was already done.

Dot, I know you're in that NY apartment, you strugglin' right now, I know it In the notepad doing lyrical gymnastics, my boy You better have a motherfuckin' quintuple entendre on that shit Some shit I don't even understand, like That shit better be crazy, we waitin' on you

7) Euphoria (Kendrick Lamar)

Kendrick officially warns Drake that he has dirt on him. Euphoria is also a hit show about troubled girls, which Drake is a producer of. This is also the infamous track where KDot demands Drake lose his N-word privileges.

I make music that electrify 'em, you make music that pacify 'em I can double down on that line, but spare you this time, that's random acts of kindness Know you a master manipulator and habitual liar too But don't tell no lie about me and I won't tell truths 'bout you

8) 6:16 in LA (Kendrick Lamar)

While waiting for Drake's response, Kendrick shocks the hip hop world with a second shot a couple days after Euphoria, exactly on 6:16am (PST). This track is meant to spook Drake. Kendrick gloats of how he got his hands on a mole in Drake's entourage and they're feeding him scandalous information about Drake.

But let me tell you some game 'cause I can see you, my lil' homie You playin' dirty with propaganda, it blow up on ya You're playin' nerdy with Zack Bia and Twitter bots But your reality can't hide behind wifi Your lil' memes is losin' steam, they figured you out The forced opinions is not convincin', y'all need a new route It's time that you look around on who's around you Before you figure that you're not alone, ask what Mike would do

9) Family Matters (Drake)

A few hours after 6:16, Drake finally responds to the beef. He ups the ante by taking shots at Kendrick's family and drops that Kendrick beats his wife. Drake also threatens other artists who may be siding against him. This is also the most he's said the N-word in his song, taunting Kendrick for revoking his N-word privileges in Euphoria.

When you put your hands on your girl, is it self-defense 'cause she bigger than you? Your back is up against the curb, you diggin' for dirt, should be diggin' for proof Why did you move to New York? Is it 'cause you livin' that bachelor life? Proposed in 2015, but don't wanna make her your actual wife I'm guessin' this wedding ain't happenin', right?

EDIT: This post on reddit believes that Family Matters was the whole reason for the Euphoria drop. This is pure speculation, however, so decide for yourself the validity of these receipts!

10) Meet the Grahams (Kendrick Lamar)

Not even 45 MINUTES after Drake drops Family Matters, Kendrick responds, robbing Drake of his temporary triumph. He straight up lays waste to Drake's entire family, offering to be Adonis' mentor because Drake's a deadbeat dad, calling out Drake's parents for raising him terribly, and revealing that Drake has another illegitimate child, this time a daughter he's been hiding for eleven years. He also warns the female listeners that if they like Drake, they're exposing themselves to a predator.

Dear Aubrey I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party But truthfully, I don't have a hatin' bone in my body This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game But you fucked up the moment you called out my family's name Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people? Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn't reach you

11) Not Like Us (Kendrick)

24 hours after Meet the Grahams, Kendrick drops a new diss track, this time actively calling for Drake's life, saying he has fake street cred, called the people in his entourage pedophiles, and releasing the track just before everybody hits the club on a Saturday night just to rub salt in the wound. He calls out Drake on behalf of 2Pac and promises he has at least five more diss tracks waiting, knowing that Drake hasn't had the chance to respond yet. He also mentions Family Matters, which meant he wrote his responding diss in less than 24 hours.

Let me break it down for you, this the real n---a challenge You called Future when you didn't see the club Lil Baby helped you get your lingo up 21 gave you false street cred Thug made you feel like you a slime in your head Quavo said you can be from Northside 2 Chainz say you good, but he lied You run to Atlanta when you need a few dollars No, you not a colleague, you a fuckin' colonizer

12) The Heart Part 6 (Drake)

Also 24 hours after Kendrick's last diss track, Drake finally drops a response. He addresses some of the allegations, including purposefully feeding info from the mole to Kendrick about a daughter that doesn't exist. He takes a few more shots at Kendrick's relationships, implying that his partner Whitney hasn't denied the accusations of domestic violence. He also clowns on Kendrick's sexual abuse as a child and blames that on his witch hunt to prove Drake was a pedophile. He ends the diss saying that he was tired of the whole beef and he didn't want to fight with an alleged woman beater. As of 5/9/24, THP6 has more dislikes than likes on Youtube.

My mom came over today, and I was like, "Mother, I— Mother, I—, mother—," ahh, wait a second Wait a second, that's that one record where you say you got molested Aw, fuck me, I just made the whole connection This about to get so depressing This is trauma for your own confessions

_____

This is the BARE BONES summary of the long, bitter history between Kendrick Lamar and Drake. This doesn't even cover it all. This is just about the disses. I recommend looking up the history between them for more context in other places.

It's 5/9/24 and 3:00pm (PST) as of this post. Updates will be posted accordingly.

[yiiyiiwrites]

More Bobby Maybank please 🫠

Summary: Bobby Maybank picking JJ up from the police station. Spiralling with these two brothers... short fic 765words

Halting in the hallway, JJ's gaze fell on his older brothers face through the glass divider. He released a shaky breath, he wasn't sure which was worse, his brother or father showing up to bail him out.

"Here, for Maybank." Bobby said leaning against the desk, he took the clipboard from the officer and scanned the document attached to it. "Yeah, I'm his older brother." He glanced up from the dotted line, JJ looking anywhere but to him. Scribbling his signature on the form, he tossed it back across the table.

Bobby nudged his head to the exit, JJ chewing his bottom lip. His older brother still in half his fire fighting uniform, heavy trousers and tight polo top tucked into the waistband. Red braces abandoned from his shoulders and hanging down from his belt loops. The chalky black residue of smoke stained his skin, sweat lines dripping down his sharp cheekbones.

The scent of smoke burnt JJ's nostrils, he didn't know how his brother could stand the smell. He trailed behind him, the familiar grey truck parked neatly between the rows of cars further down the street.

"Let's go." Bobby called over his shoulder, his body leaning against the open door. He rubbed the sweat from his forehead, blinking the burning sensation from his eyes. "I've only got twenty minutes till I have to be back for my shift."

JJ circled the truck and climbed in, he slammed the door shut wincing at the sound. His gesture met with a glare, Bobby Maybank had a strong attachment to his truck, the only thing he owned that was his own. "My bad." JJ mumbled staring out the window at the houses blurring by.

The static of the broken radio filled the silence, not a word spoken between the brothers as they pulled up to their house. Their fathers truck parked out front, Bobby exited first taking long strides to the door. JJ jogged after him, rushing in behind his brother and squeezed through the gap of the closing front door screen.

They both sighed in relief, their father passed out on the sofa and stereo blaring. Bobby nudged Lukes arm with his knee and fell back a step, satisfied that he wasn't easily woken. He stood over his father, fists clenched at his side, muscles shifting under his shirt.

"So uh..." JJ said scratching the back of his head, nail snagging in his knotty hair. "Thanks for bailing me out, bro." He made a step to leave, but his brother's hand planted on the wall above his head blocking his path to the safety of his bedroom. The downside of having a brother that was used to making the quick decisions and acting upon them, meant JJ was always getting caught. No way out, except if it was a burning building.

His head dipped to meet JJ's gaze, "You gotta quit with this shit, J." Bobby snapped, his brows furrowing. "Can't go around fighting everyone that pisses you off."

JJ scoffed and shouldered Bobby out of his way, but he stumbled back. His older brother taller and stronger, his stance not wavering. "Last time I checked, you were just as bad." A smirk pulled his thin lips, tongue swiping the cut as it re-opened.

Yeah Bobby Maybank was the worse of them, punch first and ask questions later. He was working on it, but his family didn't make it any easier for him to let go of that way of life. Bobby's hand slipped down the wall, grey stain smearing down the chipped paint. The tic in his jaw flared, blue eyes narrowing.

Placing his hands on JJ's shoulders, he anchored them to the spot. "Yeah that's because no one was around to give a shit about me." He squeezed his shoulders and let go, side stepping his little brother as if he hadn't just got deep with him.

The knot in JJ's stomach tightened, he watched Bobby swipe the empty beer bottles from the table and dump them into the bin. The usual tactic of making himself busy instead of talking about himself or his feelings. He stilled as their father groaned, hand hovered over the small plastic baggy with white powder in.

"I give a shit," JJ said kicking the junk in the front room, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Bobby checked his watch, cursing to himself before he made it for the door, he turned back to JJ and pointed his finger. "Good, maybe you should start with yourself then."

JJ laughed as his brother rushed back to his truck.

✨ A short fic for Bobby and JJ... Let me know if you have any other requests - Yiiyii (working on some other drafts and couple requests too, so not forgotten about the ones that have been sent in already)

Please do not take and post my creations, you may reblog/like but do not take and claim as your own.

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 358: That was Then, This is Now, p10

<Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!>

I was a hero! I’d just lifted the vending machine off of Mr., uh, Kowalstein, and he was going to be fine. My girls, surrounding us in the hallway, had been clapping, clapping and cooing, cooing and running their hands up and down my chest. They’d been praising my aplomb and clucking their concerns.

Dr. J that was amazing! Lakshmi sang. 

You’re just so strong! lauded Josie. 

Our big strong man! called someone else, maybe Randi. 

Others moved in. We’re so lucky you were here! Marisela gushed, ringlets of dark black hair falling fetchingly across her face. 

But are you okay? Aubrey asked. She was one of my younger employees, I think. My front desk girl along with - who are those two again? And the blondish girl?

Yes we need to make sure you’re not hurt, Shanette pressed, her hand doing the same, on my chest pushing me gently backwards. Girls were all around me, hands on my shoulders, arms and back and I felt myself suddenly being guided back down the hall. 

Girls, girls! I laughed, What are you doing?!

Mr. Kowalczyk’s going to be alright, assured Amelia - my resident glamor girl, she was like a Barbie Doll! But let’s get you back to your office, where we can check on you. 

Girls haha girls! I laughed, I’m fine! I’m fine! Just let me go see my patients and- whoah!

Giggling, all of them, I let them overwhelm me. They were all worried about me, and I figured I might as well indulge them. With their sheer swarming mass they swept me up, and I just let them take me. Before I knew it, there I was. Sitting on top of my desk as Lakshmi and Josie and Marisela examined me, checking for any injury. Amelia stood to one side of me, Aubrey on the other. Others looked on, in womanly concern. 

Dr. J you were so brave today! Aubrey squealed girlishly, now hugging my head to her maidenly chest. My first reaction was - in modesty of course - to pull away. But Aubrey held me tight.  As thin and lovely as she was, her bosoms were not those of a young girl! Wow! I was surprised at their size; even through her crisp pink blouse, polka-dotted in white, I could tell this girl was very developed. Large breasts, for sure, firmly mashing into my face. Urk! Well if it brought her joy to comfort me…who was I to complain! I allowed her to hold me, in her womanly way. She even pet my hair. I felt my eyes start to flutter as I drifted for the moment in and out of some reality. It felt like it was, now, just Aubrey and me. My head, her chest, the whiffs of her perfume and her warmth and heartbeat making her less like a girl and more a young mother. I could feel a firm brassiere through her blouse, and I snuggled into it.  

“You’re dreaming about us, aren’t you?” I heard her say, in a whisper that came from somewhere else. Was I dreaming? I felt strange, for sure, like I was taken from another time. My head swam, but her comforts made me safe, like I was afloat in a soft warm sea. Her hand pet my head, her chest rose and fell with her breath. How long I was there, held to Aubrey’s young bosom, I don’t know. 

Were there other girls here? Blondes, brunettes, redheads? 

Maybe they were on their way. 

===================================

thanks to RiF for his editing and inspiration

[sunbaby01]

Domecisity

Just JJ Maybank getting the normalcy he deserves <3

Living the life JJ did with his dad, domesticity wasn’t something he was used to. He was used to cold dinners and harsh words before going to bed in a pit of sadness. And then Sadie came along, quite literally being his light in the dark. It was like she was made for him. And him for her.

Sadie never liked to pressure JJ into talking about his home life and how it felt now his dad had left, if he did talk about it, it would be when and if he wanted to. But she still knew how bad it got, she hated knowing her love was all alone, going back to that house with those memories, so with zero hesitation she opened her door and he jumped at the chance. It’d only been a week since JJ had officially moved in and their nights had been filled with sharing the food she bought home from working with Kie and watching some funny movie on tv before sleeping, waking up, going to work and doing it all over again. Bliss.

But now she had the week off and with JJ out for a few hours she’d been grocery shopping, and buying a few extras to make their time together special. The fridge was now stocked with both of their favourite snacks and ingredients for tonight. Homemade lasagne using the recipe her mother had taught her. Pure comfort food.

She’d gotten to work the second she’d got home preparing all the food and popping it in the oven ready. She grabbed the pictures she’d printed and replaced the ones already there so pictures of them were dotted around their house, laid the table read for them to eat, lit a candle and placed his tiny wrapped gift next to his bowl.

Having just got the food out the oven and dished up, the door knocked. No matter how many times she said she’d leave it unlocked for him, he made her lock it for her safety. Secretly he loved being met at the door by her.

The moment the door was opened they wrapped one another in a hug both sighing at the contact, she’d swear that she could feel JJ’s tension leave his body.

“I have a surprise” she mumbled into his neck.

“Oh really?” he pulled back and quirked a brow looking down at her, thinking about the previous surprises he’d received from her.

“Stop it,” she laughed, “close your eyes”

“What?” He was confused now.

“JJ please close your eyes, I won’t let you trip, promise” she asked again and nodded sure of herself.

JJ warily closed is eyes and latched onto her hand allowing her to guide him down the small hallway and into the kitchen/living area. The smells that filled the air already had his mouth watering.

“Okay…open” she said nervously. He slowly opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. Looking around the room there were photos of them everywhere, their playlist playing in the background that they’d made for long journeys and then his eyes zoned in on the small table for two. A candlelit dinner, two bowls of fresh homemade lasagne sat waiting for him with a small gift too. He discretely pinched his leg. This was real?

His legs gave way and he fell to his knees bringing a worried look into Sadie’s face.

“J, are you okay? Do you not like it? Shit, I know it would be a bit much. I’m so sorry-“

Oof!

She was cut off by JJ shuffling forward and wrapping both of his arms around her waist and his head placed against her stomach. Tears stung his eyes and he held onto his girl feeling more at home in the last week than he ever had in his life.

“I love you…so much” he said sniffing slightly and looking up at her.

“I love you more J” she pressed a kiss to his forehead and holding him for a moment before helping him up and over to the dining table where he watched her every move as she stepped to the fridge and grabbed him a beer, scared this was still somehow all a dream. Until she bought it over to the table and pressed another kiss to his head before sitting down.

“It might be too much now but I got you this…” she nudged the gift towards him and with a shakey hand he picked it up, looking up at her through his eyelashes before opening it.

“I thought it was about time you had your own key to your home” she smiled gently and right then he knew this was the girl he was going to marry. She’d given him so much in one night, so much domesticity and so much normalcy that he wanted this with her forever.

“Did I mention I love you?” He breathed.

“Every time you leave the room”

[darkstar225]

Twice’s 10th member passes out/faints

The moment she left the stage, after thousands of photos each with a different pose for her lovely fans, she started to feel the effects of the poor night of sleep she had the night before. Sleeping for only 2 hours because of her excitement to go to this concert and talk to ONCE after so long turned out to be a bad -terrible- idea. Well, when she said this would be a problem for the future Y/N it wasn't meant to be this soon. A tingly feeling made itself known but she couldn't identify what were the consequences of it. Not wanting to be alone in case something happened the maknae went to the changing room where 3mix and the J-line were (the SMC ran to get something to eat together as soon as the manager said the ok to leave the place and head to the dorm).

Y/N - Unnies, I don't feel good...

As expected, the unnies started freaking out the moment these words left their baby's mouth. (mama bears mode on)

3mix - What are you feeling? What happened? When have you started to feel this way?

Thankfully J-line noticed that Y/N wasn't that aware of what was going on so they quickly helped her sit on the couch at the corner of the room. It was mostly Momo carrying her but this isn't the point, they just wanted to have her resting somewhere so she doesn't pass out.  

Y/N - Thank you unnies, I was having a kind of weak feeling, idk what happened, answering one of your infinite questions lol

Jihyo - Don't joke around Y/N L/N, this is serious!

Y/N - Ok, ok, I'm sorry. 

Jeongyeon - Fine, we're forgiving you just this time and only because you're not feeling well.

Y/N - Amen

Nayeon - That's right little miss. Anyway, what are you feeling babe?

Y/N - So, you know when you get when you're trying to stay awake but are too tired or that feeling you get right before you fall asleep when you're super drunk? Not that I've ever drunk but anyway- that's what I was feeling

Mina - We should put her legs up so we get the blood back to her brain.

Sana - Let me get some cushions, lay down lovebug.

Y/N - It's not necessary unnie, I'm feeling a lot better-

Getting up from the sofa was another stupid decision Y/N took that day, she felt her vision get blurry and the ground seemed to not exist. After that came the dizziness that made her stand still and voices full of worry from her sisters came from all around the room. However, her hearing and sight just shut off and the only thing she could see was the black dots that appear when you close your eyes very hard and everything turned into a mess of unclear sounds, almost as if she was submerged underwater.

Meanwhile, her sisters tried to talk to her and get her to lie down but she was already gone. When she fell while passing out, Sana being the closest to her, got her and helped her to the sofa with Jihyo who was holding Y/N's cheek taping it to see if she answered. 

Jihyo - Y/N, Y/N, Y/N... 

Sana - Come on darling, this isn't funny.

Nayeon - Wake up baby. 

After 10 agonizing minutes, Y/N started moving and the unnies all sighed in relief.

Y/N - Jihyo unnie...? What happened?

Pulling her child near her chest she whispered a small thank god and replied.

Jihyo - You fainted sweetie... Don't you remember?

Y/N - Not really *rubs eyes*

Mina - That's fine honey, do you think you can get up? Actually, never mind. Can someone take her to the couch?

Momo - Fine for me, let's go babe *groan*

Momo gives their maknae a kiss on the forehead and puts her down on the couch. Sana gets the cushions and settles them below their baby's feet, giving her a huge hug afterwards. 

Sana - You scared us sugar, what made you faint?

Y/N - I didn't sleep that well last night... Too excited to do so...

Nayeon - And you didn't go to one of our rooms because?

Y/N - I don't know... There was a lot on my mind and you're all sleeping.

Jihyo - Wake us up, I don't care boo. If we weren't here you'd fall headfirst on the floor and hurt yourself more.

Y/N - You're right captain *salute* lol

Nayeon - Pfffffffff- HAHAHAHAHHAHA sorry, Jihyo. That was funny.

Jihyo - I'll let it go, I'm happy to see you feeling better, doing idiotic jokes again.

Jeongyeon - Don't do that to one of my No Jam bros. Slay kiddo!

Y/N - Thanks unnie 😎

Mina - Drink this water hon, I don't wanna see a single drop in this glass. 

Y/N - Okay boss :P

Mina - Less talking, more drinking Y/N L/N.

Putting her hands up surrendering Y/N drank the whole cup and started sitting up since all the tingly vibe she was feeling went away with the care of her unnies.

Momo - Do you feel better?

Y/N - Yeah! Much better, maybe I just needed some sleep and my body did without my consent lmao

Sana - Don't joke about that! The first thing you'll do when we get to the dorm is lie down and sleep. Cuddling with me of course!

Jihyo - No way! It's my kid you're talking about.

Nayeon - What? She's gonna wanna cuddle with me!

Momo - Don't be silly grandma, she loves me more remember?

Nayeon - That's definitely not true, she said it to you first, that's it.

Momo - Screams volumes for me.

Nayeon - Shut up, pabo.

Momo - YOU'RE THE PABO-

Jihyo - SHHHHHHHHHH, she ended up falling asleep. Let's allow her to get some rest.

Jeongyeon carried her to the car and when they got to the dorm took her to the SMC room where everyone was sleeping in a puppy pile. It was adorable and she didn't wanna miss the chance to get there with Y/N after she took a photo and send it to the group chat which made everyone flood it with messages but their thought was the same. 

We love our dear maknaes. 

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

[clementines-writing-corner]

i'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack

Hello friends!

As I said in my last post, I’m back!! Many apologies for disappearing into thin air after the last full length post in January, things just got crazy with the Spring semester. I was taking my big Writing Seminar class for my History Major, and researching and writing my big final paper (which was required to be 22-25 pages long and which I turned in at 49 pages long of course). I simply did not have the time, space, or mental capacity to devote the level of effort required for developing my original story and for the upkeep of this blog. 

And even after the semester ended, I got sidetracked by starting an internship for my major as well as starting a new part time job over the summer and the pet project of creating a website for my Aunt’s small business. Unfortunately, writing for personal enjoyment fell to the wayside for me for over half a year. But now, with a new semester kicking off, I’m back! ᕱ__ᕱ

Some of you may be thinking, but Clementine! It’s the start of a new semester, aren’t you going to still be too busy with college for this blog? Well…yes, I will be busy with college (and all the stuff I have to do to prep for my graduation in December)! But also no, I won’t be too busy for this blog. There are a multitude of reasons for this. For example, the fact that I’ve been cracking down on my procrastination habits over the past year and have been seeing some improvement, or the fact that I am only taking four classes this semester. But the main reason I will for sure have the time to devote to this blog and my personal creative writing again is thus: it’s become an assignment for one of my classes again! 

(Hello again, Professor M! You’ll be sick of me and my rambles by the end of the semester I promise. ᕱ__<)

I won’t bore y’all with the details but basically I’ll be picking up right where I left off with this blog, except this time I’m going to: 

#1 -  Try to be more active on this account that just my weekly posts for class. (I finally downloaded tumblr onto my phone so I should be able to partake in some doom scrolling on here as well as instagram lol.)

And #2 - For my posts that are for class, I’m going to try to have a little more focus that I did previously. As I’ve discussed here before, worldbuilding is extremely important to me, but it is also one of the parts I dread the most about developing my original story. So, I’m using my class assignment as an excuse to force myself to do at least a little something with world building and/or the development of my original story’s magic system every week.

But, as many of you know, the best laid plans often go awry, so strap in folks. It’s gonna get interesting. (But that’s the fun part after all! ᕱ__ᕱ) Hopefully, I’ll see y’all soon!

Dot your j’s and cross your t’s!

~Clementine J. Quincey 🪷

Also PS. I have a writing playlist that I've made (which I will share at some point) and the song that inspired it was this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AUn3kNda0k

It's so beautiful and awesome and epic that I just had to share! That's all. ᕱ__ᕱ

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #201

For the first half of today, M and I played this new game called Grounded, and it's basically a survival game in which you are some teenagers who have been shrunken down to the size of little bugs. It's a lot of fun, even if some aspects of it are kinda janky (for example, the spiders don't even have to touch you in order to hurt you; it's kinda lame). I found a nice spot to build a base, and told M about it. And then J returned home from his overnight at Br's house.

A little while after J returned home, he and I went out for pizza and an unexpected walk. I took lots and lots of pictures for you of all the things I thought were pretty. I have over 200 pictures. But I can only share 30 of them with you in a letter. So I'll send along only the best ones, in a little bit.

Today was a very hot day. In addition to the Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I also have asthma that triggers in response to humid air, being overheated, or having a high heart rate. The asthma is the result of my mother not quitting smoking while she was pregnant with me, being born premature (my lungs were missing surfactant when I popped out, and there was a hole in my heart, and I had to spend a while in an incubator, and even then I almost didn't make it), and growing up for 18 years in houses full of chain smokers. I make the best of it, but on days like today, if I'm going to be outside, I have to move slowly so that I don't overheat and my heart rate is kept relatively low.

But... on days when the air outside is like getting smacked in the face with a hot, wet towel (it's not quite that bad out today), I can't go outside at all. My lungs close up immediately, and it's not long before the telltale navy-blue dots of oxygen deprivation start creeping over my vision. One of my most memorable instances of this was when I was in college for the first time. During one of the summer breaks, I went with my partner at the time to a place called Maryland.

Maryland is pretty far south of where I live - closer to the equator relative to me - and it's near the ocean, so the air is very hot and humid. I have a memory of trying to go to a grocery store called Wegman's (it is an AMAZING place), and it was only like 9am, and still I couldn't even make it across the parking lot because my lungs refused to cooperate. I didn't have any albuterol then, so I got dizzy and fell down, and my partner at the time had to carry me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder into the Wegman's, where there was air conditioning, and the asthma subsided after a while in the cooler air. Very unpleasant. -67/10 stars, absolutely would not recommend.

I'll be going back there at the beginning of August, to try to help you. I'm a little scared, admittedly. But I have an inhaler now. I don't like using it, because it makes me both twitchy and tired after the fact. But whatever I gotta do to get to the place, I'll do. If I have to crawl there on my hands and knees, I will.

But anyhoot. I'm sure I've prattled on long enough. You're looking forward to those pictures, right? So here they are:

The sky was especially lovely today:

And then we got pizza:

I found a feather after we left the pizza place. It wasn't there before. This one was HUGE:

Then, J and I got some ice cream. This one was vanilla with watermelon twist. It was REALLY GOOD. And I took some pictures in the general area.

We decided to go to a park after that.

We came across a bridge. If you look closely, I managed to snap a little bird as it flew by, over the grass; it's the black spot on the path.

...Hey, Sephiroth? What would it take to build a bridge strong enough to reach you? I wonder...

Along the way, I found another feather. This one is black, but it shines greenish-blue when the light hits it just right...

We also found a swing set:

Hey, Sephiroth? Have you ever been on a swing like this before? They're a lot of fun. And as long as it's high enough off the ground, you're never too old or too tall for it. If you haven't swung on one of these before, I'll suggest that you try it out.

I played on the swing for a little while. I took some pictures for you there, too:

J and I have since returned home. Pretty soon, I will probably play more Grounded with M.

I don't have anything really groundbreaking or profound to say today, so I guess I'll stop writing now. I just hope you can look at the pictures I took for you and remember how beautiful living is.

I love you. And I hope it comes out in the things that I write to you. I hope it is easily visible, recognized, and understood by you. Life isn't made only of suffering, if only because of the way the sunlight sparkles through the leaves of trees.

Please stay safe. Please think about the things I write and show to you. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[treevore]

Happy DFF Bestie!!!!! A little challenge: write a 300 word (triple) drabble about J/D…can be superpeaks if you want!

HAPPY DFF as we know I went Fucking Insane and actually did....three of these because superpeaks has me so bewitched

Putting these behind a cut so it's not super long on the dash

Dean ambled through the door of their room at the Pine View, a stack of envelopes in his hand. “Ran by the post office, the box was damn near full.” The room was a haze of cigarette smoke, common during the day when Sam was at school. With the weird case he’d been on, he’d been spending the days holed up in the hotel smoking cigarette after cigarette on Dean’s dime as he tried to draw connections between the dead girls - grasping at straws if you asked him.

John barely looked up as Dean threw the stack of letters on the table, fake names in barely legible scrawls, some of the envelopes floppy and over-soft from the sweaty hands that had sent them. “And?” He said, his voice a tired growl. He was deep in the weeds of the case bullshit.

Dean snatched the cigarette from his fingers as his dad exhaled a drag and put it between his own lips, smirking cockily as John looked up at him “How about you take a break?” He asked as he scooted John’s chair back the couple of inches he needed to sit on his dad’s lap. “We’ve got the time to answer some of those real quick, make some cash for your-” he paused to take a drag of his own, “habit here.” The smoke leaked from between his lips as he spoke.

He smiled as his dad leaned past him and grabbed the first letter on the pile and opened it, splitting the side of the envelope with one quick jerk. As John read the letter, a desperate plea to meet the luscious-lipped boy perched on his lap, Dean trailed smoky kisses across his jaw. He could feel his dad’s cock stiffen through his pants, pressing gently against his thigh.

The tacky lingerie thong chafed between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, the fabric painfully cheap. There hadn’t been a whole lot else at One-Eyed Jacks that was fit for a boy besides a couple of thongs that strained to fit his cock in them. He’d seen the thick fold of cash Laura had come out with the last time they’d been together, and she wore the ridiculous card-themed lingerie that the patrons were so obsessed with. So he’d wear the stupid thing, black satin with red lace, dotted with little heart and diamond beads around the waist.

The lights in the room he’d been shown to were dim, casting a dull golden glow over the red carpet, the wood panel walls, the over the top decor. He couldn’t believe anyone could get off to this, let alone enough people for the place to stay afloat. But old dudes had weird taste, he’d seen that firsthand.

Dean looked up as the door opened, his second patron of the evening. The first had been a quick blowjob, his knees still pink from the time he’d spent kneeling on the carpet. Old guy, weird french accent. He’d scared Dean.

John. His eyes slightly lidded, he’d been drinking, probably been gambling too. Dean hoped he’d won the money he was paying for this with, otherwise those were funds he'd gathered. “Never seen you in something like that before,” John said, his words just on the edge of slurring, “looks cute on you baby.” Dean gulped and nodded as John crossed the room and grabbed his chin hard, pulling him up into a rough sloppy kiss. “I don’t think-” he nipped at Dean’s lips roughly, prompting a shocked gasp from his son, “I mind paying for it if I get to fuck you in this.”

Dean heard the door to the bathroom open, the footfalls instantly identifiable as his dad. He sniffed the bump of coke off the motel room key quickly and followed it up with a cough, hoping John hadn’t heard him doing coke in the bathroom of the Roadhouse. 

“I know what you’re doing in there,” John said, still loud to compensate for the bar noise. In the silent room, it startled Dean. He dropped the key on the floor, a disappointing amount of powder still clinging to it as it fell. “That why you’re so okay with whoring yourself out, Dean?” John saying his name was an accusation, a pointer finger jabbed into his chest through the door of the lone stall in the bathroom.

“You’re one to talk,” Dean said as he bent to pick the key, sticking the dirty metal in his mouth to suck the stuck remnants off, “smokin’ me out of house and ho-” 

The door banged open, John’s eyes dark as he stared down his son. “What did you say to me?” Three steps and he had Dean back against the wall, looking down at him with rage and hunger in his eyes. “I’m your father, you little slut,” he said, voice a growl, “you oughta treat me with some respect.” 

Backed against the wall like that, Dean barely recognized his father. Since coming to Twin Peaks, there was a new darkness Dean saw in his eyes sometimes, not the usual simmering rage of having lost his wife, his life. This was hungry, a predator in the shadows, stalking Dean as its prey. He shivered as John leaned in and placed a wet kiss on his jaw, his father’s teeth on his ear prompting a high yelp. “What,” this John’s voice was different, even darker, more distant, “thought you wanted to play with fire.”