#they either make me uncomfortable or I just… Don’t Like Them

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: a return | poly!marauders

#4

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, marlene, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism

a/n: if you’ve requested to be on the taglist but didn’t get tagged, check the taglist at the bottom to see if your account is unlinked, and if so check your settings to make sure i can tag you! i added everyone’s @ even if it didn’t let me tag an account to it. also i don’t have it in me to proofread 17 times anymore sorry for any errors

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

When you approached the girls, who were seated around their usual Gryffindor table after class for a study session, you were immediately thrown by the unfamiliar face among them.

“Y/N! Come sit!”

Lily’s usual excitement shone through as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. You tentatively sat down, hoping someone would introduce you to the unfamiliar person, but she was occupying the group too much to even take notice of you.

“And they call the bin a trash can. I mean talk about being literal, right? I swear, if one more person over there called something by the exact descriptor of what it was, I would have thrown a book at their head.”

The table chuckled at her story.

“Marlene, this is Y/N,” Lily chimed in once the girl was done speaking.

Marlene turned her head toward you, scanning the visible portion of your body before landing on your face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, flushed and uncomfortable.

“So you’re a part of this group now?” Marlene asked completely unprompted.

You were slightly taken aback. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Well you either are or you aren’t.”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to act. You had never met this person, and now she was snapping at you. “I am.”

Instead of responding to you, Marlene turned to Lily and said, “I thought this was a set thing? Since when do we let new people in?”

“God, Marls, it’s not like there’s a rule book,” Dorcas said.

“We literally all agreed, Dorcas,” Marlene bounced back.

“And we all agreed to include Y/N,” Lily smiled, refusing to include herself in the tension of the conversation.

“I didn’t,” Marlene responded, leaning on her elbows over the table in a confrontational stance.

“You weren’t here,” Dorcas fought.

Marlene took a deep breath before grabbing her books and standing up. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, exiting the Great Hall in a huff.

You looked around in hopes that someone, anyone, would explain to you exactly what just happened. Instead, the table stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge any of it as they continued studying.

You were too nervous to ask, so you pretended like nothing happened as you pulled out your books.

The next day, in between classes, you ran into Sirius in the library. You were met with two consecutive free blocks, which allowed you time to study. Sirius, on the other hand, just didn’t feel like attending charms.

“Aren’t you usually in class right now?” he said, catching you browsing through the shelves of books.

“Mhm.”

“You’re skipping?”

“I have it free today.”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he studied your face. It was unlike you to be so dry in your answers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, engrossed in your own thoughts about Marlene and her reaction to you. You hadn’t realized how you were speaking to Sirius.

“Wanna sit for a second?” Sirius said, nonchalant as if your answer wouldn’t phase him.

“Sure,” you shrugged, approaching a nearby table.

Sirius sat across from you, studying your face as you tried to arrange your books. You peered up at him for a second, noticing his gaze but pretending you didn’t.

You thought about speaking, but weren’t capable of acting as though you weren’t bothered. If this person was part of the group, surely Sirius knew her already, so you decided to test it out.

“Marlene’s back, you know,” you said, as if you were completely in the know about everything regarding this mysterious new person.

“I know,” Sirius responded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You waited to see if he would elaborate any further, but he simply sat there, smoking his cigarette, staring at you.

“I didn’t even know she existed until this morning,” you said, “is there a reason no one told me? She was pretty cold to me.”

“That’s just Marlene,” Sirius brushed it off. He seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing it.

“Where has she been? I’ve never seen her before,” you asked.

Sirius sighed. “She spent a year at Ilvermorny.”

You were getting frustrated from how little information Sirius was giving you. He was strategically only answering your exact question, and only doing so in the most concise way possible.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Wanted a year away,” he said.

You sighed. “Sirius, you’re not giving me much.”

Sirius sat upward, leaning his elbows on the table and smiling in amusement at your interest. “Why so curious?”

“Just wondering what happened is all.”

Sirius saw the intrigue on your face and caved. “She took a year away from here after a bunch of drama happened. She was falling pretty hard for someone in our group and that person wasn’t really the monogamous type. They got in a huge fight, the whole group was there- it got really messy. She couldn’t take it anymore and decided to transfer schools. Guess she’s back now,” he finally explained.

“She wasn’t supposed to come back?”

“I have no idea. She only told Dorcas she was leaving. That’s the only reason we all knew.”

You nodded your head, flipping through the pages of a textbook as if this new information meant nothing of importance to you.

“So she left the group?”

Sirius sighed. “She left the school, Y/N. I don’t think anyone expected her to show back up.”

“So she never officially left the group.”

“Why would it matter?” Sirius smiled, “you jealous of her or somethin’?”

“What? No,” you said, “I just didn’t know this person existed and she was a real bitch to me earlier. Just wondering why.”

Sirius leaned an arm over the table and put his hand over yours. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

The gesture was unlike Sirius, but you appreciated it nevertheless, and you smiled at him to show it.

────── ☾ ──────

“So you’re in this now, hm?”

You, startled by the sudden voice, whipped your head around to see Marlene McKinnon jogging to catch up to you in the hallway.

“Yeah,” you said as you continued on your route to class.

“What’s so special that you’ve got Sirius Black asking for you to join? You that good of a lay? The whore of Hufflepuff?”

You stopped on your tracks, wiping stray hairs out of your face as you huffed, “what?”

“I just mean, Sirius isn’t really one to pick and choose,” she said, sizing you up, “you must have gotten a glowing endorsement from someone. Let me guess, Remus?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you brushed her off.

“Sirius Black wouldn’t invite a lower-year virgin into our little group,” Marlene said, “he just wouldn’t. So fess up.”

“This is insane,” you said, turning forward and beginning to walk again.

Marlene stepped in front of you, cutting you off as you nearly walked straight into her.

“I have class,” you stated dryly.

“You won’t last, you know,” Marlene started, “once the shiny new toy gets played with a few times, they’ll get bored and throw it away.”

“What’s your problem?” you said, surprising yourself with your confrontation. Being in this group was making you more confident in yourself.

“Don’t have one,” Marlene said, “just trying to get the scoop, since I was so rudely left out.”

“I have class,” you repeated.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you, but I should warn you that those boys don’t tend to stick with the good girls.”

“That’s too bad, since I’m already in the group,” you fought back, sick of her insults.

“For now,” Marlene said, smiling triumphantly and she stepped to the side.

You shot her a look before walking off.

────── ☾ ──────

When you’d confided in Dorcas how Marlene had been treating you, you didn’t anticipate that she would become quite so enraged, pulling you around and collecting all the members of your group until you were all together.

Fuming, Dorcas finally took a seat.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asked.

“A good ol’ Dorcas summoning,” Evan joked.

Dorcas sat in silence, nostrils flaring as she stared at Marlene.

“Well?” Marlene said, legs and arms crossed, “what is it?”

“Have you been threatening Y/N?”

Marlene immediately threw her hands up. “What am I, on trial? Fuck this.”

She began to stand, but Sirius stood as well. “Sit down,” he said, and she sighed, but did as she was told.

You were taken aback by how serious he was being. You hasn’t even told him what Marlene said to you.

“I didn’t threaten her,” Marlene said.

“So you didn’t tell her she’s a toy we’ll all get bored of playing with?”

The heads in the room all turned to Marlene. “Why does it matter? If she can’t handle being part of this, then she shouldn’t be a part of it.”

“You can’t just bully her out because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Dorcas? Hm? The fact she’s in the goodie two-shoes house?”

“Guys,” you tried to chime in, but it got lost in the tension.

“Oh, you know what,” Dorcas spat.

Dorcas and Marlene both stood, their voices growing louder and louder.

“No, I don’t. Tell me Dorcas, what the fuck do I have to be jealous of? Some young little girl who doesn’t even know how to fuck?”

“Guys,” you tried again.

“Why did you even come back, Marlene?” Dorcas retaliated.

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

“One day you’re my best friend, and the next you just leave a note like ‘oh! I can’t do it anymore and I’m transferring to America, bye!’ and I’m just supposed to jump up and down in joy when you suddenly decide we’re worthy enough to have you back?”

Marlene plopped back into her chair. “This is bullshit, I’m not doing this. Did you really call us all here just to yell at me in front of everyone?”

“No,” Dorcas said, “I called us all here to vote you out.”

The room stilled for a moment before Marlene scoffed. “To vote me out?”

“Guys!” you finally yelled, and it caught their attention, “can we please calm down?”

“You wanna vote me out? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding you.”

Marlene and Dorcas stared at each other, intensity in their eyes as Remus finally tried to calm the situation down.

“Marlene, things are a little different than when you were here before,” Remus said, “I think it’s only fair that you’re either okay with that, or you’re out.”

“Oh yeah?” Marlene replied, “and what’s different? Besides the Huffle-slut.”

You threw your hands in the air, exhausted of Marlene’s inexplicable hatred toward you.

“Well, for starters, are you over him?” Remus asked.

Marlene stared at Remus blankly, almost as if she was trying to think her way out of answering, but couldn’t.

You looked around the room, but everyone was too focused on Marlene’s answer to provide you with any explanation. You couldn’t help but feel left out of something.

“Yeah,” Marlene shrugged.

“I don’t believe you,” Dorcas said.

“Go cry about it,” Marlene spat.

“Stop, fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed, “are you or are you not okay with Y/N being here?”

“Clearly I’m not, mom.”

Remus huffed and stood up. “Well, fuck this, I’m done trying,” he said, walking over to the ashtray and flicking embers off the butt of his cigarette.

The room stilled, everyone unsure of what to do.

“You guys shouldn’t have agreed on anyone new without me,” Marlene spoke up.

“Bloody hell, you were gone, you fucking idiot,” Dorcas said, “and we had no reason to think you were coming back. What were we gonna do, send an owl? Fuck off.”

“Can she even fuck?”

“Give it a rest, Marlene,” Sirius spoke up.

“No, I wanna know. Can you fuck?” she said, turning to you.

Your eyes widened. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” you stated.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can fuck like a big girl.”

You looked around the group in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Pick someone here, and prove it.”

“Marlene, come on, shut the fuck u-“

Sirius was cut off by Marlene pressing on, “pick someone and let’s get on with it, Hufflepuff.”

A feeling shot straight to your core at the thought of having to fuck someone in front of the entire group. You were too worked up.

You looked up at Remus, who had been your obsession and your safe person thus far, and waited to see his expression. Marlene noticed your attention turn to him.

“Remus it is,” she said, moving the coffee table away from the center of the room, “hurry up. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think-“ Remus started.

“You know what? Fuck you, Marlene,” Dorcas said, rushing over to you.

Dorcas leaned down and kissed you hard, the kiss full of intensity and fire and anger. You were startled, but quickly started to kiss her back. This was your group, not hers anymore. If she wanted to see you fuck, she’d get a good show before she was kicked out.

Dorcas dropped to her knees in front of you. She propped one of your legs up against the armrest on the side of the couch.

Dorcas propped up your other leg and pushed it toward James, who was sitting right next to you. “Hold her, will ya?” Dorcas said.

James nodded, taking hold of your right leg.

With your legs widespread, your skirt bunched up at your waist.

“You consent?” Dorcas asked.

You nodded your head yes.

Dorcas wasted no time pushing your underwear to the side and diving in, flattening her tongue against you and moving up and down.

Your head tilted backward as you sighed, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried not to focus on the several pairs of eyes on you. You leaned onto James, trying to somewhat hide your face in his neck,

Dorcas was someone you’d always assumed would be rough in the bedroom, and she was angry and worked up over the Marlene situation, however, you were surprised by how soft and gentle she was being. You knew it was intentional for you.

She was in no rush, moving her tongue slowly against you. You thought of something Lily had told you previously: Girls give better head because they know what truly feels good.

You whimpered each time Dorcas swirled her tongue particularly well, and James lightly rubbed his thumb across your leg, comforting you on top of the pleasure.

“Jeez,” Evan spoke from across the room.

Marlene slouched in her chair in a huff, her eyes fixed on everyone else in the room, trying to gage their reactions to you.

You let out a light squeal when Dorcas began to trace around your hole with her finger, alerting you of an oncoming intrusion.

She slowly slipped one finger inside of you, again in no rush as you softly moaned at the sensation. Her mouth never detached from you as she began to pump her finger in and out of you.

James stroked your thigh with his fingers as he watched Dorcas eat you out, occasionally kissing the top of your head to remind you that you were okay. He also just wanted the validation of feeling included. James liked to feel needed.

Everyone was watching intently, turned on by the sight in front of them. Marlene was focused on everyone else, and Sirius took a drag of his cigarette every time James leaned in to kiss your head.

“Shit, I-“

You spoke so low that only James could hear it. James tapped Dorcas to warn her that you were about to come, and instead of following through, she stood up and backed away from you.

You instinctively closed your legs, remaining in your comfortable position against James.

“That wasn’t shit,” Marlene said, “you really want that in here?”

“Who said we were done?” Dorcas spat back.

Dorcas grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him over to the empty space on the rug where the coffee table used to be.

Remus looked at Dorcas expectantly, but she just raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the floor.

Remus threw his hands up. “Yeah, it’s a nice rug.”

Dorcas sighed and pushed his shoulders until he was kneeling on the floor.

“You could have just fuckin’ told me where you wanted me, damn,” Remus said.

“Y/N?”

You were still slouched into James, trying to calm your breathing despite your core being on fire from the abrupt stop to your pleasure. “Mhm,” you vocalized.

When you didn’t receive an answer, you forced your eyes open to see the entire room staring at you.

“Think you’re needed down there, angel,” James whispered to you, nodding toward Remus.

You took a deep breath. You dropped to your knees and sat in front of Remus. He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kissed your cheek before he adjusted himself to a lay, sprawled out against the rug and waiting for you to sit on him.

You adjusted your legs around his waist, grateful Dorcas didn’t take your skirt fully off. You were still clothed and modest to the group.

“Remus doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Marlene said.

“Don’t you speak for me, I’m doing just fine down here,” Remus said, placing his hands behind his head as he watched you in amusement.

You blindly undid Remus’s belt, pulling it off of him as you began to unbutton his jeans. Remus pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already hard cock.

You began to pull your underwear to the side, but a voice stopped you.

“No no,” Marlene said, “fuckin’ amateur. Don’t you know Remus needs a little something first?”

You knew she was just messing with you and trying to prove that she knew everyone better than you, but you felt like you knew Remus above everyone in the room.

But, if she wanted a show, you’d give her a show.

You slowly backed up on your knees until you were between Remus’s legs. You remained on your knees, allowing your ass to stick upward and your skirt to fall onto your back, exposing your backside, as your hands found Remus’s cock.

You looked to Lily, who had taught you the little you knew so far, and she nodded at you so as to say “you got this.” Her approving nod gave you confidence.

You licked a stripe from the base of Remus’s cock to the tip before sinking down on the entire length. Remus was large, too large to fit entirely in your mouth without deepthroating, but you didn’t care. You were running on pure lust, anger, and adrenaline.

Remus was looking down at you, but when his tip hit the back of your throat, he slammed his head back against the floor, a satisfied moan leaving his lips.

You pulled away almost entirely before sinking back down again, deepthroating him once more.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed.

You swallowed in uncomfortability at the feeling of his cock in your throat, which only added to his pleasure.

“Bloody hell, you can see him in your throat, Y/N,” Lily said, “do that again.”

You looked up at Remus, who looked down to see what Lily was talking about. You swallowed again, and Remus could see the slight bulge of his cock in the top of your throat.

“Holy fuck.”

You pulled away and began to suck him normally, maintaining a steady rhythm. You couldn’t taste all of him without deepthroating, so you used your hand to account for the base of his length.

You looked up at Marlene, who scoffed and looked away as you kept your gaze on her, evidently showing her your confidence and ability as you sucked off Remus.

Marlene looked around the room and saw everyone’s eyes trained on you. Sirius adjusted his position in his seat, and James was nearly salivating.

“Okay, enough, get to it then,” Marlene said.

You pulled off of Remus, making a show of wiping your lower lip as you moved upward until you were sitting on top of Remus.

His hands found your waist without hesitation. He was lost in pleasure and lust, eager to feel you again.

You pushed your underwear to the side and held onto Remus’s length with one hand, positioning it at your entrance.

You slowly sank down, watching Remus’s face for any uncomfortability, but he was immediately just to happy to be inside of you that he pushed his hips up.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of a thrust, and Remus snapped open his eyes and looked up at you.

“You okay?”

You leaned down and kissed Remus. “Fuck me, Rem.”

Remus used one hand to hold your hair as he pulled you back into a kiss, and the other hand gripped your waist to hold you in place as he began to fuck up into you.

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, and he held your head there, happy to have a few moments where he was the only one who could hear your small whimpers and whines. James was right: he did enjoy being special to you.

Dorcas knelt beside your bodies and wrapped her fingers in your hair, pulling back until you were seated up. She tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your head. She then unclasped your bra and pulled the straps off of your arms.

She hungrily kissed you, keeping you sat up so that your body was on full display for everyone in the room.

She kissed down from your neck to your breasts, sucking on your nipple as you threw your head back in pleasure.

You felt a sudden pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly gone as you looked to your right. Alecto was pressing her legs together for dear life, Evan was holding a pillow between his legs, and Sirius was staring you dead in the eyes.

You stared back for a moment, matching his eye contact. He coughed on cigarette smoke, something he never did as a veteran smoker, but continued to look back at you.

Your attention was pulled by Dorcas, who kissed you again as Remus’s thrusts grew harder and faster.

You moaned out as you threw your head back, trying to lift your hips in rhythm with Remus, but he was thrusting a little too fast for you.

Dorcas noticed, and she crawled behind you, kneeling on the floor as she held your body against hers, ensuring you remained seated upward and on display.

She kissed the side of your neck, sucking on a sweet spot as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasure. You tried not to think about Marlene or the voyeurism, but just to be present in the moments of pleasure.

Your moans grew higher in pitch until you began to clench around Remus.

“Fuck, Remus, I- shit, I can’t-“

“No fucking cop outs,” Marlene said.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Saying it was hard. “I- I’m-“

“Merlin, Y/N, please say it,” Remus spoke through erratic breaths below you.

You took a deep breathe. “I- I’m gonna come, Remmy, please-“

Remus snapped his hips hard, hitting your sweet spot and causing you to come with just a few more thrusts. Dorcas held you through your high, causing your legs to shake and your body to nearly convulse from the intensity as Remus came in succession.

You blinked your eyes open, trying to catch your breath as Dorcas kissed your temple and stood up.

You wiped sweat from your forehead and looked down at Remus, who put his hands behind his head again and smiled up at you.

“Stay there as long as you like.”

You giggled and leaned down to kiss Remus as Dorcas gave you back your shirt.

With Remus still in you, you pulled your shirt over your head and looked at Marlene, eyebrows raised.

“Good enough for you?” you grinned.

Marlene shrugged, clearly bothered. “Nothing I couldn’t do better.”

“I beg to differ,” Remus sighed, “not a lot could top that.”

You leaned down and kissed Remus before carefully lifting your hips and sitting back on the floor. You knew better than to try to stand.

Remus took a moment before covering himself back up, and you both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch. No one said anything.

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter, but fuck was I wrong,” Evan said.

“Are you always the horniest one in the room?” you joked.

“I don’t know, is he?” Marlene said, turning toward Sirius.

Sirius flicked embers into an ashtray. “Meaning?”

Marlene’s voice was not as confident as before. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”

“Oh, come on, Marlene, don’t start shit right now. You got what you wanted, you saw her fuck. You in or out?”

Marlene looked around the room, and everyone was focused on her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I’m already in. I never left the group,” she said dryly.

“One more shot,” Remus said, and Dorcas tried to speak up in protest, but Remus shushed her. “One more shot, but if you pull any shit, you’re out.”

Dorcas threw her hands in the air. “You come and suddenly you’re in a nice mood?”

“Y/N?” Remus said, looking to you, “that seem fair?”

You looked up at Marlene. She was clearly insecure about someone in this group, and if she left right now, you’d never find out who. Regardless, you didn’t feel like drama. If she stayed, whatever.

“Whatever.”

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @alixmarauders @riddlemenottsluttyslytherin @twilightlover2007 @hcqwxrtss123 @queerndepressed @prongs-wolfstar-marauders @flowersarcute @remussbitch @ch4rlotte35 @alwaysanundertone @urfavhanna @donovorita28 @randomcreator-09 @joey-hoey @chronically-sh-ana @pinksmellslikelove @blvebanisters @aaronhotchswife @roseblack1864 @chaevvonders @champomiel @the-flaminhos @ilovesugurugeto69 @sammyreid @treefairy-28 @aza-writes @made-for-oliverwood @kaileygirl444 @livslifeonline @hi172826 @greyeyedmockingbird @prettylittlewrites @st0rmzi3 @butterchicken06 @yarri0 @camslut7 @ilovewhiteboysforlife @bibblemiluvr @moonyxstars @charlxzagzy @maxinehufflepuffprincess @yejiswifex @maverickgalathynius @bmyva1entine

[revelboo]

I was going to dm you but I’m shy, so I’ll just ask here- I’ve been refreshing the “transformers x reader tag” since last night, and nothing new is appearing even tho you and other writers I follow have posted stuff under the tag??? this is so weird-

I just tested it and same. I can’t see new stuff under the tag either, so I’m guessing it’s a Tumblr issue.

Oh, pretty sure they’d hate it. The sound reminding them how fragile human bones are.

Weird Human Stuff Headcanons Pt 2

Various Transformers x Reader scenarios

TFP Ratchet

• Stiffening as you shift your weight and your knee pops, his denta grind. Because he’d made the mistake of flinching the first time you’d absently done it and you apparently delight in making him uncomfortable. Those little pops unsettling, because he knows how little your bones are, how fragile. “I’ve told you that’s bad for you.” Looking at you, he watches you smile up at him. And shift to pop the other knee. Primus, give him strength. “Don’t come crying to me when your joints hurt later.”

Waspinator

• Legs pinned under your clingy, giant alien wasp you fidget with your hands and absently crack your knuckles. And his head comes up, optics wide and antenna back. “Don’t,” he hisses, wings buzzing slightly. Staring at him in speculation, you deliberately crack your knuckles again and he flinches back. Wait. Wait, that freaks him out? Popping your thumb to confirm it and watching him recoil. A wicked part of you can’t help but grin. “Please,” he whines, ruining your fun at his expense, because tormenting him is like kicking a puppy. As tempting as it is to use this new knowledge to drive him off to get some space, you know you won’t no matter how annoying he can be.

TFA Starscream

• Freezing when you pop your knuckles, he stares as the mini-con nearest you flinches away with a startled chirp. “Did you just break your own hands?” Growling in incredulous horror, he hooks a servo around your waist to tug you closer and then to touch your tiny hand, trying to examine it. “Why would you do-” Anger faltering when you wiggle your fingers at him, looking sheepish. Some strange human thing? “Don’t do that again.” Because for a moment, his spark had constricted painfully with alarm that you were not only hurt, but that you’d hurt yourself on his watch.

Metroplex

• “Stop,” he growls, voice pleading as he catches your hands in his drone’s and separating them, he vents as you just smile up at him in amusement. Like harming yourself is no big deal when he’d heard those tiny bones crack and it hurts him. “Don’t ever do that again. Please. I’m here.” And you just look puzzled, not even trying to pull free as he feathers his servos over your hands, looking for damage. Finding none, he tugs you closer, resting the drone’s chin on to of your head, but not releasing your hands. Understands being frustrated or lonely, but he’s here and he can’t allow you to hurt yourself.

[extinctlesspains]

plzzzszszs write fluff for thanos 🙏🙏

A/n: YAYAYAYYA I've been waiting for a Thanos request 🙂‍↔️♡

𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 [𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠]

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏs (ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ 230) x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ғʟᴜғғ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟ sǫᴜɪᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇs, ᴛʜᴀɴᴏs ᴏғғᴇʀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʀᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss, sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇɪɢɴɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪs sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ʙᴜᴛ sɪɢɴɪғɪᴄᴀɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ғɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘᴜʀᴇ ғʟᴜғғ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The main room was dimly lit, the faint buzz of the old fluorescent bulbs the only sound. You sat in the corner, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the floor. Each game took another piece of you, leaving only scraps of hope behind.

The room was mostly empty, contestants scattered in their own corners, each dealing with their fears and grief in silence. You were so lost in thought you almost didn’t notice someone approach.

“Mind if I sit here?” a deep, gentle voice broke through your fog.

Looking up, you saw Thanos, Player 230. He was tall and broad, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting. His features were rugged, a scar tracing his cheekbone, but his brown eyes were warm, and his purple hair was goofy. You managed a small nod, shuffling over slightly.

He lowered himself beside you, sitting with his legs stretched out and arms resting casually on his knees. The quiet stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his voice softer now.

You shook your head, your chin trembling. “Not really,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, considering you. “Figured as much. No one’s really okay here.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”

Thanos smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but still felt genuine. “Still. You’ve made it this far, haven’t you? That’s no small thing.”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “Feels like luck more than strength.”

“Luck’s important,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s not everything. It takes guts to survive here. And you’ve got that. I can see it.”

His words caught you off guard, stirring something in you that you hadn’t felt in days: belief. You wanted to dismiss it, but his steady gaze made it hard to argue.

“Why are you being so nice?” you asked softly.

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall as he thought. “Because I know what it’s like to feel alone,” he said simply. “No one should have to go through this without someone watching their back.”

His answer made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, with a sincerity that felt rare in a place like this.

After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of candy. “Here.”

You blinked at it. “Where did you even get that?”

“Been saving it,” he said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Figured I’d need it for a rough day. But looks like you could use it more.”

You stared at him, the gesture so unexpectedly kind it left you speechless. Tentatively, you took the candy from his outstretched hand, unwrapping it carefully as though it were a precious treasure.

The sweetness melted on your tongue, and for the first time in days, you felt something other than despair.

“Thanks, Thanos,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Stick with me. We’ll get through this.”

You wanted to believe him. In this place where betrayal and cruelty ran rampant, someone like Thanos was a rarity.

“Why are you so sure we’ll make it?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

He shrugged. “You don’t survive by giving up. Besides, if anyone’s got a shot, it’s you. You’ve got fight in you—I saw it in the last round.”

His confidence in you was disarming. You weren’t sure if he was just saying it to keep your spirits up or if he actually meant it, but either way, it worked.

For a while, you sat there together in comfortable silence. The world outside the break room seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a small beacon of hope in the unlikeliest place.

“You’re not bad company, Thanos,” you said eventually, managing a small smile.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth fighting for.

[ventismacchiato]

17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms. 

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while. 

But he promised he wouldn’t. 

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago. 

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing. 

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find. 

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that. 

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it. 

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops. 

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her. 

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him. 

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word. 

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him. 

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed. 

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it. 

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool. 

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort. 

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead. 

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. 

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice. 

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?” 

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended. 

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are. 

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here. 

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours. 

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening. 

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch. 

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did. 

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap. 

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued. 

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him. 

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise. 

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back. 

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him. 

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea. 

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability. 

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something. 

He feels the precipice you're both on. 

He wants to jump. 

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him. 

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too. 

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. 

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness. 

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it. 

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind. 

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[writemekpop]

Babymaker | Lee Taeyong

Summary: You're trying for a baby, so you have to have sex with Taeyong even when you're furious at him.

Genre: Suggestive, Husband!Taeyong, Angst

Word count: >1k

“Edgar?” you scoff. “You seriously want to name our baby ‘Edgar?”

Taeyong huffs. “I didn’t laugh at any of your baby names.”

“Yeah, because none of them were dumb,” you reply.

Taeyong rolls out of bed and stands up, his face turning bright red. “That’s it. I’m going to sleep in the spare room-”

He is suddenly interrupted, because your phone alarm goes off.

“Oh no…” Taeyong groans.

“Yep,” you say grimly. “Time to make a baby.”

You and Taeyong have been trying to get pregnant for the last three months. You are on a strict sex schedule. You haven’t missed one session yet, and you’re not about to start.

“Does it have to be tonight?” Taeyong says.

“It’s my last day of ovulation,” you say. “This is the best chance we have of getting pregnant for the rest of the month.” You sigh. “Look. I don’t feel like it either, but…”

Taeyong glares at the wall for a long moment, then sighs. “Fine. Let’s just get the damn thing over with.”

He gets back into bed. Instinctively, you smooth your hands over his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

Suddenly, he pulls back.

“Look, I can’t keep kissing you,” he says. “I can feel that you’re still… judging me.”

“You can feel this, can you? With your spidey sense?”

“There! See? Judgement!” Taeyong says.

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You know what? We won’t kiss. Let’s just move on.”

Taeyong starts unbuttoning your pyjama shirt, but you swat him off. “No need for all that!”

Both of you quickly remove your trousers and underwear, and then the quick, mechanical work begins under the covers.

Despite your annoyance, the sight of Taeyong’s shining back, the muscles of his arms working under the skin, and the way his shaking breaths still manage to turn you on.

You hate that your body still answers to his. You still want him, even though you also want to slam the door in his face.

Taeyong huffs. “Why are you looking at me like that? So judgemental…”

“Fine, I won’t look at you at all. I’ll look at the ceiling,” you say.

Taeyong huffs. “Judgemental, judgemental, j-” ‘

“If you say that word one more time, I swear I’ll-” you say.

Taeyong looks pointedly at you. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll… I’ll…”

An intense wave of stimulation from Taeyong’s body is making it hard for you to remember what your point was.

A moment later, you both groan, as, almost painfully, you reach your climax.

You are both panting for breath, your bodies uncomfortably entwined together.

“Judgemental,” Taeyong mutters.

You shove your shirt and trousers back on and storm out of the room.

-

After an hour of aggressively pacing up and down the living room, you finally feel calmer. You can hardly remember why you were arguing in the first place. Edgar or no edgar, it doesn’t matter. You’re not even pregnant yet - there is no baby to name!

You pad back up to your bedroom, and knock lightly on the door.

“Honey?” you say.

“Uh-huh?” Taeyong calls back, but his voice sounds strange, so you push open the door.

Taeyong is sitting in bed, his chin between his knees. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s spent the last hour crying.

You crawl in to bed and wrap your arms around him. When he rests his head on your shoulder, you let out a sigh of relief. He’s not angry at you.

“What’s the matter?” you say, as you stroke his soft black hair, breathing in the scent of his cherry shampoo.

“I think… that was the one,” he says.

“What?” you say.

“I think we just got pregnant. I know it sounds stupid, but I have a feeling it just happened. And, like an idiot, I let it happen when we were arguing…”

His voice trails off. You hug him more tightly. Your body fits effortlessly into his, like a key finding its lock.

“What are we going to tell our kid when they ask how they were conceived?” he says, wiping his eye with his palm.

“Have you ever met a teenager?” you say, grinning. “Trust me, they don’t want to think about their parents having sex.”

Taeyong laughs despite the tears still running down his face. “Are you sure?”

You look at him. “Do you know how you were conceived?"

“Eww no, of course not!” Taeyong says.

You both start to laugh uncontrollably. It is a snotty, tear-stained laugh that comes right from your bellies.

Taeyong pulls you to him and kisses you with so much passion it leaves you lightheaded.

Taeyong looks at you under his lashes, toying with the top button of your shirt. “Did I mention that my girlfriend looks incredibly sexy tonight?”

You laugh. “How could you possibly be ready to go again?”

Taeyong bites his lip to stop himself from laughing. His fingers slip down your shirt and to the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. “I am not ready to go again, but you on the other hand…”

You pull him in for another kiss. “Ahh yes. The pleasures of not making a baby.”

Taeyong nods. “You understand my point precisely.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[ponkydraws]

BBC Johnlock rant;

What? A rant on a show that was popular in 2014 tumblr in the year of 2025? Yes, I’m an autistic queer 16 year old with a passion for literature and art, what else would I get up to?

Here’s a couple things that have been itching at me and I feel like I need to scream into the void seeing if anyone will listen. Yes, this is Johnlock.

Spoilers ahead, obviously.

1. Sherlock’s attraction to Molly and Irene. Now, I see a lot of fans of the show under the impression that Sherlock is attracted to either Molly or Irene, and personally I think the show made it very clear that’s not what’s going on.

Molly - Sherlock possesses the ability to mimic romantic attraction at need (see Janine), although even in those cases he won’t go any further than kissing, i.e “waiting until marriage” despite being an atheist. Molly’s attraction to Sherlock is evident from their first encounter, Sherlock seems to be aware of said feelings but actively and purposefully refuses to acknowledge them. When Molly asks if he’d like coffee he simply takes advantage of the wording of the question to reject her proposal without directly addressing the actual question - “black, two sugars please”.

He tries to use Molly as a John substitute but finds that he cannot stop thinking about John anyway, and even in that situation he makes Molly appear more like John rather than keeping her acting like herself. In The Final Problem Sherlock is forced to make Molly say the words “I love you” or she (allegedly) blows up. This is a manipulation tactic of Eurus’, where she exploits her brother’s emotional attachments. But the challenge is meant to upset Molly - not Sherlock. Sherlock is distraught because despite having a different set of emotionality he doesn’t want to hurt his friend. He breaks her casket because he is upset he has hurt his friend. And despite having only 3 minutes to make her say “I love you”, he buffers for an unnecessary long time to actually say it himself. This is because he DOESN’T mean it.

He feels bad for having to reopen a wound of Molly’s because he is not telling her the truth, he is being forced to taunt her with a flicker of hope that’s not there.

Irene - this is just my own personal interpretation of their relationship so you don’t have to agree with me but I found it quite clear that Sherlock is not attracted to her romantically. He strives to impress her. He feels intimidated and fascinated, he’s so keen on their conversations because he has found an equal and he’s testing her intellect (and she’s doing the same to him). Irene uses seductive techniques to try to throw Sherlock off his rhythm, and successfully so. Except it appears that she’s using them for shock factor, not to actually seduce Sherlock. Again; throwing him off his rhythm. He is still objectively trying to deduce her and even says “if I wanted to look at naked women, I would borrow John’s laptop” implying that he doesn’t want to see her naked, but the situation is what it is.

There’s a clear difference between Sherlock’s reaction and John’s reaction to Irene being naked. John feels exposed and uncomfortable because he recognizes the situation as sexual. He immediately looks down, either out of embarrassment, shock or because he doesn’t want to be caught staring down a naked woman. Even when she directly addresses John, he seems to make a point to look her in the eyes. Sherlock, despite understanding the motive of her method, is still viewing her from an objective perspective. He is looking everywhere, not because of attraction, but because he is trying to understand what she’s doing. When trying to deduce her, he finds that he can’t find anything out - so he switches back to John and has no trouble deducing him at all.

Sherlock is not comfortable around Irene, but he is drawn to her intelligence. He feels a need to prove himself to a fellow genius, and to detect what she’s got in return. Even Irene points out how John and Sherlock supposedly are a couple, insisting she’s right even when John denies. Later in the show, John brings up Irene a couple of times in an attempt to peak Sherlock’s interest but it still seems like John is more interested in the relationship between Sherlock and Irene than Sherlock actually is.

All of these women acknowledge either Sherlock and John’s relationship or Sherlock’s lack thereof with them

“You look sad. You look sad when you think he can’t see you.” - Molly

“Somebody loves you” - Irene to Sherlock, and looks at John, “we’re not a couple” “yes you are” & “I’m not actually gay” “well I am. Look at us both.”

“I wish you weren’t…whatever it is you are.” - Janine to Sherlock

Even John’s girlfriends acknowledge how John prioritizes Sherlock over them, i.e “you’re a great boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man. No, it’s heartwarming. You’ll do anything for him.”, “don’t make me compete with Sherlock Holmes” and even Mary taunts both John and Sherlock for their clear affection towards each other - “I don’t shave for Sherlock Holmes” & “see, neither of us were the first”

In conclusion, Sherlock can be manipulative when it favors him and he can mimic attraction if needed, but it is not genuine. In all of these cases, the care displayed for them was directly tied to a case, as to where the affection he displays towards John is unwavering and unaffected by whether or not there is a case. Why? Because he doesn’t view John as a tool, nor does John view him as one.

John makes a difference in Sherlock’s life because he is not getting anything out of him other than genuine human connection. He praises Sherlock when he’s impressed and scolds him when he does something wrong. Sherlock, who is clearly not used to being addressed as a regular person, is obviously surprised by this behavior as displayed in the first episode, i.e “fantastic..” “are you aware you’re doing that out loud?” “Sorry” “no it’s…fine..” & “that was…amazing” “really?” “Of course it was” “..that’s not what people usually say”

John treats him like a person, he doesn’t tiptoe around his intellect worried he’ll do something wrong, no, he grabs him by the collar and redirects him when he’s not acting properly. And John is the one to uncover his flaws. Sherlock prides himself on being this genius detective whose intelligence cannot be penetrated by the weak forces of emotions - but that’s not right. He’s very emotional. Both John and Mrs Hudson are aware of the fact that Sherlock is emotional, and acts emotionally. “Not Sherlock, no, he’s more…emotional, isn’t he?” - Mrs Hudson

What emotion does Sherlock display when John gets married to Mary or talks to his commander? Jealousy. He’s obviously distraught about the whole marriage thing, so much so that both John AND Mary are aware of it. When John meets his old commander, Sherlock seems skeptical of him and doesn’t like how John is acting around him. Mary says how “he’s the most unsociable man he’s ever met” to which Sherlock replies “HE’S the most unsociable man he’s ever met? Well that explains why he’s prancing around him like a puppy” which kind of implies that John finds himself drawn to unsociable people - and that Sherlock has actively noted that trait because he does it around him, too. He also leaves the wedding early, and like Molly says, he looks sad once John is not looking at him.

Another case of emotional behavior is when Moriarty tells Sherlock “I’ll burn the heart out of you” to which Sherlock replies “I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one”. Moriarty counters with this with “oh, we both know that’s not quite true.”

And what happens a few episodes later? John ends up in a bonfire. “I will burn the heart out of you” and then the show tries to burn John. Hm. This can also be tied to Sherlock’s previous statement of “funny how fire exposes our priorities”.

Moriarty is aware of how much John means to Sherlock and actively uses him as a tool to manipulate Sherlock. He tries to make Sherlock feel bad by telling him how many people will be upset by his death, but Sherlock does not react until John is mentioned. He tells Sherlock how his friends are in danger and Sherlock immediately goes “John!”.

In the final problem, Mycroft tries to manipulate Sherlock into making shooting him a lot easier, so he starts berating John. Not Sherlock. John. He tries to rile up Sherlock enough to get him to pull the trigger so he insults John in front of Sherlock. Sherlock recognizes the technique which means that he’s well aware that Mycroft is using his relationship with John in an attempt to manipulate him.

Romantic or not, Sherlock clearly loves and values John more than anything or anyone, even more than his own life. He would die if it meant John could live. I can easily write like 15 of these but I’ll start with this bite sized analysis. Thank you.

[taissaswifelowkey]

test and recognise

a/n: horror girlies deserve peace. especially skye riley my girl was stressing give her a break 😭 i was inspired by edits of smile 2 and i saw one with “test and recognise” and wanted to write something about it (i have to find this edit again) i tried to stick to the plot but sort of altered it so it doesn't really stay true to the story? but since reader was involved i had to mix it up a bit. the ending is ambiguous. idk i wanted to try something new, maybe it should have stayed in the drafts. minors, ageless blogs dni please, drop feedback if you have any, enjoy reading let’s gooo

w/c: 2.3k words

warnings: allusions of self-neglect, issues differencing reality? basically, the whole plot of smile 2 but i didn’t do it much justice. proofread but i might have left mistakes behind, let me know if i missed anything else!!

You hesitantly knock on Skye’s door, having been told beforehand by her mother and Joshua that she’s been “uncharacteristic”. He looked nervous, his usual polite smile and engaging presence toned down to a shaky voice and hunched posture. You look down at the paper bags held in one hand. A few of Skye’s favourite snacks as well as her favourite takeout. Maybe that would comfort her? Or maybe she’ll just send you off.

You’re not even sure why you’re here.You don’t recall the last time you’ve talked to Skye in person. Maybe it was after her fall out with Gemma. Who also happened to be your friend, and you would always be together along with Skye. You were then in an awkward position and did not want to fuel the already disastrous atmosphere. Of course you still texted and called her whenever you could, when you weren’t on press tours or scheduled to be on carpet interviews. That of course lasted for a little while, your calls and messages soon went unreturned. But even after hearing about her personal incidents, you passed your best wishes for her to her mother and left a note. It was the least decent thing to do.

The door slightly creaks open, a wild pair of eyes flickering between yours. Her blonde hair falls messily in her forehead and you catch a glimpse of dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Skye?”

She stays still for a minute, eyes squinting at you before she opens the door a tad wider, confusion written all over her face.

“What are you doing here?” She grumbles, her voice low and hoarse, a tone of accusation nearly ripping through her utterances.

“I’m…”

Saying that you’re here on the behalf of her mother and assistant doesn’t sound like the most appropriate response. Nor does “I thought we’d catch up”. She waits, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Did Gemma send you?”

“No…?” You trailed off, not sure as to how you should handle the painfully uncomfortable situation you’re in.

“Was it my mom?”

Not being the best at hiding your emotions, you purse your lips mouth opening and closing to give an answer when she huffs and opens the door.

She doesn’t look back or wait for you to come in, presuming you’d do it on your own like you had many times when you and Gemma were invited for sleepovers. You close the door behind you, following her to the kitchen. Placing the bags down at the counter your brain is wrecking to come up with words instead of being left in this blank haze.

“What’s that?” She points the contents with her head, only registering them now.

“Just something I thought I’d get before stopping by.” It’s a progress, you think. She hasn’t kicked you out yet.

“Was that under my mother’s advice too?”

You feel like you have to tread the line, judging by her questions and current state. You don’t want to be overbearing. But you don’t want to make it seem like you don’t care about her either. Even though she has progressively cut you off through the years.

“You know I never come empty handed.” You attempt to smile, nervously clearing your throat. It was the truth. Though its reminder had no effect on Riley. She just stares blankly at you, before leaning on the counter, dropping her head in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a while and you feel an uncomfortable and almost murky aura creeping through the room again.

You do wonder why Skye’s mother chose you out of all people to check up on her. This is something that needs to be handled professionally and not just friendly care.

The bag rustles. Skye holds the plastic bag and crushes it, her knuckles turning white before she releases it, gradually.

“Is it real?” She whispers, not looking up at you, her hands going to crush the plastic again. Your silence makes her look at you. Truly look at you for the first time since you’ve gotten here. A look of examination, not a fleeting one.

“What…?” You hesitantly murmur, not wanting to ruin whatever it is that was happening. She holds onto the bag again, this time ripping it piece by piece.

“Is this real?” She repeats, not bothering raising an octave. What’s the use? This could be her lucid dreaming again. In a couple of hours she’ll wake up alone in her apartment. You’re just something present at the back of her subconscious. Maybe it’s the rot playing with her again. Or her brain guilting her into talking to you and Gemma. Her eyes bore into yours again, trying to memorise every single detail. From the way that you dress to the subtle furrow in your brow. This is the closest thing she’d ever get to normalcy.

Her words and actions worry you more than it is confusing. She chews on her lips, frantically running her hands through her hair. You’re afraid she’ll rip her scalp with how rough she’s being.

“Skye…” You slowly raise your hands up, then face your palms down, taking a deep breath. In all truth you don’t know what you’re doing. But you don’t want to see her like that. It pains you more than anything.

She looks down at your hands, her eyes tracing the lines of your palms. Her hands itches to touch yours, anything to ground herself in this reality. Or in this dreamlike reality. Anything. She lets go of her strands, a few fragments of her hair whisking away, before dropping her fingers to the counter. You don’t move your hands away, leaving them as it is.

She slowly reaches for them. She wants to take her time in this reality, in this world, where it does not feel like terror. This is the peace that she’s been wanting.

Her fingers start with the skin of your wrists, tracing your veins. They’re not delicate but do not stop your breath from hitching. She presses down on your pulse and you hope she cannot exactly feel how fast it is racing. She then movies to your palms, tracing its individual lines, and does the same with your fingers. The position is a bit awkward but it doesn’t stop her from lightly pressing on to them every now and then. She feels the monster taunting her, whispering mocking words

You’re going to wake up soon, Skye.

“This is real. I promise you.” You don’t dare raise your voice above a breath, letting her hold on to you. It’s painful but you endure it.

Your hands were so warm. She could melt at how delicate and soft you were. She never wanted to let go. She caught on to what you said. She just couldn’t take it into account. Not with her tears slowly brewing her eyes, blurring everything. You gently let go of her, causing her to raise her head in panic, but you join her behind the counter. You slide your hand towards her again, speaking earnestly.

“I promise you.”

Don’t believe what you see. It’s only a matter of time before she leaves.

She takes your hands and collapses in your chest, letting her tears escape. She didn’t want to feel terror anymore. She didn’t want to feel this weird pressure on her chest again. She wanted to start over again. Back to where everything was simple and easy.

You let her hold on to you, her hands clutching your clothes in a visceral grip. You can feel her tears damping them. Her makeup stains silk probably leave traces behind. And yet, you hold her close, impossibly close to you. She can feel the thrum of your heartbeat, the fabric of your clothing. You still wore your signature scent, sweet and subtly woodsy.

“Are you real?” She sobs, taking a risk to pull back, not caring if she’ll wake up anytime soon. Or if you’ll go away.

Instead of answering her, you reach for her fingers, tracing them to your wrist until she can feel your pulse. You hold her free hand and trace her wrist until return, before feeling her own pulse.

Wordlessly, she crashes into you again. Though she is calm, her body is still wracking with tremors.

“I don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to go back.” She babbles over and over. You still don’t understand, but you figure that the last thing she needs is to be alone.

“I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Not again, you wish you could say.

You repeat soothing words until her tremors die down. You don’t know how long it has been since she’s been in your arms, but you still repeat the same words until she’s completely slack. Much to her protest, you guide her to the couch, promising that you’ll be back.

You go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You make sure to come back quickly, not wanting to leave Skye alone.

“Here.” You murmur, placing the glass of water on the table. Before you can ask anything else, she gulps down in one shot.

“Do I need to bring another glass?” 

She shakes her head, pulling you down to sit with her.

“No, just…stay. Please.”

“Do you need me to heat up the food?”

“No, later. Right now I want you to stay with me.”

And you do.You stay for as long as she needs. She leans into you, dropping her head to your shoulder. It’s a comfortable silence, not the dreading kind that she’s been used to.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You know I’ll always be here for you–”

“I know, I know. And that’s the problem. I…look, I haven’t always…I have not been a good friend. Not to you, not to Gemma. I had shit to deal with and instead of being honest I closed up on myself. And now it feels like it’s ruining me, everything. I just feel…rotten. Like I’m decomposing every minute.” She rambles. She doesn’t know why she’s saying this to you. probably because she knows this is the only place she feels safe.

You bring her closer to you, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them, encouraging her to speak.

“I’m lost. So lost. And it feels that at every turn it feels like I’m being pushed back.” her voice wavers, tears threatening to escape her eyes once again. “It’s like there’s this weight pulling me back. And I don’t know what to do. Like…like…like it’s always coming back for me again to pull me back again.”

You rub soothing circles in her back, fighting back your own tears. If you knew how she felt, you would’ve done more than just sent her mother messages. You would’ve reached out sooner, let her know that you’ll never leave her. 

But would it make that much of a change?

“Do you think I’m insane?” She mumbles against your shoulder, tracing the patterns of your hands. “And be honest with me.”

Your furrow your brows, taking her hands in yours, lightly squeezing them.

“You’ve been through a lot. For you to be standing here…it takes a lot of effort. You’re stronger than what you think you are, Skye. And you’re valid for feeling this way. You’re not insane, Skye. If anything, I think you’re brave.”  You try to keep your voice level, making her eyes meet yours. “And I can’t imagine half of what it’s like to…to go through so many things. But you’re not alone. There are people who care for you.”

For a long minute she questions if you’re just saying that to make her feel better. But by the look on your face, the same serious and gentle expression she’d come across with multiple times, she knows…or hopes, you are being truthful.

She lays in your arms again, her eyes closing as sleep slowly takes her whole. She tries to fight it, not wanting to escape. You notice, and grab a nearby blanket, comfortably draping her in warmth. She can’t fight it back anymore.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.”

She falls asleep right after that.

°

You’re not here anymore. She does not have a real idea of how long she has passed out, but she cannot feel your warmth anymore. Her blanket is still draped around her, she can still feel the ghost of your arms. She doesn’t dare speak out, in fear of this rot to come back at her.

It was the first time since she has had a dream that was not a nightmare. At least she can count herself lucky.

You had to wake up eventually, the rot mocks in its gravely voice.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, passing a hand over her face until it reaches her hair, wanting to rip off her strands. She cries, swearing into the emptiness.

She looks down at the reflection of the glass table, looking down at the glass of water along with a little note

in case you wake up, i’m in the kitchen

She grabs the note, looks at it confusedly. She can’t hear the rot mocking her anymore. Or she can, but it’s…weak? It’s like it’s dying.

Her phone is on the table, there are messages of her mom and Jacob. It must be an illusion.

“Skye, what’s happening are you okay?” You rush in the living room, you don’t even have time to finish your sentence before she crashes into your arms, nearly toppling you over.

“You’re here. You’re here.” She babbles, over and over, not letting you go.

You hug her back, softly whispering soothing words.

“I’m sorry, I just went to get some food for you–”

“No, no, it’s okay. You’re here.”

You don’t question her, letting her speak. Her arms laces your waist, smiling in relief at your warmth, your scent, the feel of you.

She pulls back to meet your eyes, holding your hands to her cheeks. The rot is fighting to make an appearance, yelling, screaming, roaring insults. You wipe her tears with your thumbs, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll always be here.”

Her knees buckle, her entire body feels lightweight. Her mouth feels dry, deprived of water. You’re quick to catch her in your arms, sliding down to the floor.

“You’re here.” She laments, her eyes fluttering close, missing how you reached for your phone to call for help, drowning in silence and emptiness.

[squid-bunny-msi]

Boundaries list (PLS READ)

Hello! With the new year coming, I want to start better and fresh, and with that comes a need to open a bit. To be honest, I have the problem of being a big people pleaser, which led me to not set boundaries before and want to start with a change. This is my first time managing a fandom account of this size, so I’d like to set a few boundaries. This is long as hell but better to be explanatory than to leave things up in the air. I hope you can take the time to read through them and understand that I’m doing this for my own comfort, please don't feel bad😿

Please, I’m not a teenager anymore. I don’t have the free time or energy of one. I’m an adult with low energy. I was surprised when I heard that I was “gone” for a long time when, to me, it just felt like a short while. I think I fit more in the category of those artists who post one thing then dissapear for some time lul.

Don't feel anxious when I don't reply to you: This is just an MSI fan account, I do other things and have other interests, I just want to stay on topic. While I’m away or not active here, I’m usually just drawing/doing other things that interest me at the moment. If I don't reply to you, I'm not replying to anyone because I'm not online, please don't feel anxious.

Please keep DMs to a minimum. I love chatting with mutuals, but I receive at least 25 chats from different people each week and each with multiple messages. It’s unsustainable for one person to manage, and that’s the main reason why I take so long to respond. I don’t want anyone to think I don’t want to talk to them anymore, but I don't want to burnout either.

If you message me, I’d really appreciate it if it’s for something specific you want to share with me rather than random shitposts, videos of things I don’t know, or content in languages I can’t understand. I don't want to sound rude but you can skip all of that.

Please don’t talk to me with touching/grooming/edgy/SH/sexual jokes/content towards myself. If that’s your way of communicating, that’s on you, but I ask that you don’t bring it to me. It makes me uncomfortable.

If you're a minor don’t talk to me about sexual content involving YOU in any shape or form. I DON'T want to hear it. That also goes to "Me x You ship" jokes in general. These are only okay with adult mutuals if I’ve expressed that I didn’t mind.

Reposts are allowed with credit on other platforms. PFPs with my art are allowed and credit isn't obligatory but always appreciated. Tracing my art and posting it when I didn't give permission is not okay. Art style inspiration is good.

If I stopped following you, it's because I found something in your account that makes me uncomfortable, but please don't take it to heart nor ask me to follow back again.

My Discord is only for clients and close mutuals to keep everything organized. If you want to chat with me, you only need my Tiktok or Tumblr.

With this, I don’t want managing this account to feel like a chore because I started it for fun. This year, I want to share as much MSI art with the fandom as I can, but that can only happen if I’m comfortable and in a good mood. Apologies in advance if any of this makes you feel bad or guilty. I hope we can still be great mutuals/oomfs 🤝

[leafiatheneko]

There are two types of artist when drawing godly Sephiroth art methinks

— the fellow simps out there (50/50 chance they have oc x canon w him or self ship w him (me real except I can hardly draw him))

— dare I say sefikura shippers

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking sashisuri thoughts ………

[butnotbubblegum]

Thinking a lot recently about the fact that within a wider group of friends there will be people you don’t like. And this is fine and normal and you just get on with them because that’s what you do. But when it happens in a smaller group which is tighter knit, what do you do then? If you try and do the same it comes across weirdly. Because the level of closeness with the rest of the group is on average higher than in a big group.

[marshmellowtea]

the more i read about cozy horror the more i understand why people fucking hate the idea of this being considered a “genre”

[tariah23]

Hi I hope this question makes sense but how would I call out friends use of what might be aave? Im worried about being wrong and it not being aave/sounding like a white knight but I dont want to ignore it.

Hi! And no, you’re fine. If you’re not black, it’s always best to look up terms and listen to what black people say to begin with, that’s the most important thing and if you’ve seen black people talk about a specific term that you might recognize as being aave, simply let your friends know that they shouldn’t really be using such terms in the first place since at this point, viewed as antiblack and micro aggressive because Black people have grown tired of having to talk about this same problem over and over again. Especially when they use such terms directed at Black people. If they continue to use the terms despite being told not to, then you already know what they are.

[fandom-fae]

honestly. on one hand. i really really really like the version of peter pan from once upon a time, in the way that the actor does a phenomenal job, the character has great dialogue and is just overall really really enjoyable to watch imo. but then i remember how he kept wendy in a cage for like 300 years and like

i stan him but that is so. AGSJDHJDHDJ. like i feel SO BAD for wendy there. this poor girl honestlyyy. like. that’s so disturbing honestly. like i can’t imagine much things that would mess with someone’s psyche more than that. like if he had just kept her on the island then fine, but constantly in that tiny hanging cage??? big OOF.

like i’m sure she’d need like permanent therapy afterwards and even then how would you even begin to unpack that in therapy???? like??????

[northwestofinsanity]

There’s suddenly been a lot of hush-hush, angry, passive-aggressive, no-names-but-lots-of-side-eyes gossip in the student lounge at school this week, and I really don’t like it…

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay I’m adding two more resolutions for 2025. I am exclusively mood-reading books, which means no TBR and no regimented planned reading, and I am also refusing to wear anything I don’t want to wear