#Genuinely let me know if you liked this I might have to do it for more episodes

[shina913]

A Very Patient Man | LJH

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: F2L; FWB; smut; pwp

Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; PIV sex; riding; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 4.6k words

Summary: You’re frustrated because it takes you longer to reach an orgasm during sex. This has made you feel insecure, and you started to accept the fact you’d never meet someone patient enough to give you the attention you need. Your friend, Jihoon, casually offers a solution.

A/N: Idk. I slipped and fell onto my keyboard and all this horny word vomit spilled out. Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs 🤣

This is also un-beta'd so...it is what it is.

Anyway! Here’s something filthy to end the year! 💜

It started innocently enough at Jihoon’s studio. You were sitting on his couch, venting about your dating life, and as always, he listened attentively just as you do when he shares his own experiences.

However, today’s visit was different. He’s letting you ramble on about a very specific topic.

“I feel like there’s an invisible time limit on foreplay.”

Jihoon’s chair creaks as he leans back, laughing at your incredulous claim. “No, there isn’t!”

“But I really think there is!” you argue. “My last date got visibly impatient, even though I...” you inhale through your teeth, “clearly asked him for more time down there. Instead, he just said, ‘It’s been five minutes, it’s my turn now.’” You huff in annoyance.

“Well, that sucks. Did you get rid of him?”

You grimace before replying. “Please don’t judge me. He was cute, so we still fucked. My vibrator finished the job,” you admit guiltily. “I blocked him on the app afterward though.”

He sighs, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “You shouldn’t compromise on your needs. If you want more time, say so and stick with it.”

You huffed wistfully. “I just take too long. I get all panicky when someone’s been down there for longer than 5 minutes.”

“You can’t rush pleasure,” he comments.

“I know that, but now, it makes me think—how long is too long before you come? Is there a play clock winding down on the field? Do I need to call out an audible?”

He doubles over again, laughing when you start using sports metaphors.

“How can some women summon an orgasm—” you snap your fingers, “just like that?”

His laughs subside, turning more serious now. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to other people. Everybody’s different.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” you remark sarcastically.

He turns away to face his screen, adding more edits to a track he’s working on.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, shrugging in defeat. “I guess my vibrator and I are destined to spend the rest of our lives together. Might as well reserve matching burial plots.”

Jihoon snorts. “You just haven’t found the right partner. A really patient one, I might add,” he says, half-joking.

You smack him on his bicep, and your hand stings from the unexpected firmness under his oversized shirt. Has his arm always been this solid? When was the last time you touched his bicep? Wait—why are you even thinking of his bicep?

You and Jihoon have been close friends since college, maintaining a purely platonic relationship—never a hint of romance or sexual tension between you. On rare nights out, you even act as each other’s wingman, helping one another find potential dates. You two simply click on a different level—easy and no complications.

He looked up from his mixing board, turning to you with a slight smirk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I happen to be very patient.”

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. It was the kind of tone he used when chatting up potential conquests on your nights out.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t you dare use that Joey Tribbiani move on me.”

“It’s not a move.” He keeps his face serious, looking genuinely hurt by your comment. “You’re my friend. I wouldn’t do that to you,” he says softly. “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to try, I’m game.” He tilts his head, giving a casual shrug. “No judgment.”

You stare at him, stunned, as his offer hangs in the air. You try to laugh it off, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

Was he seriously proposing that you two—nope! You refuse to go there. Jihoon is a great friend, and although you trust him, you’re not sure you’d be comfortable with the idea of...

You shake your head. You can’t even finish the thought. You glance at your watch for no reason at all.

“You know, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh? I thought you wanted to grab dinner?” He’s surprised and confused at your sudden change of plans.

“It’s getting late.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that late. You feel guilty lying to your friend, but you need to escape this conversation—and this situation—as quickly as possible.

“I just got a notification from work. I need to come in early, yada-yada…You know how it is.”

He looks disappointed but doesn’t push. You gather your things, slipping your puffer jacket on, despite the room feeling several degrees warmer.

“Alright. If you’re sure—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. That came out more tersely than you initially intended. “I’m sure,” you add with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes to try and make up for it.

He rises from his seat when you do and moves in for a hug—just like he usually does. But this time, the hug feels different; you’re suddenly hyperaware of his touch, your skin tingling all over. You return his hug stiffly, without your usual warmth, then hurry out of his studio and immediately tear off your too-hot jacket.

That night, your dreams were filled with visions—his hands tracing paths across your skin, his dark head dipping between your thighs, his intense gaze meeting yours as you hovered on the edge of unbridled pleasure. The dream felt so vivid you could have sworn you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t until your alarm began blaring, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat, that reality came crashing back.

********************************************

A couple of days passed, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Jihoon. This wasn’t your usual “hope he remembered to eat lunch” thoughts or impulse to send him funny memes that popped up on your algorithm.

After your NSFW dream about him, you started noticing little things about him you’d never paid attention to before—the adorable way he’d scrunch up his nose while concentrating on work, how his muscles moved when he reached for something, or how the warm red studio lights perfectly highlighted his features.

You shake your head. It’s not that deep. Jihoon’s suggestion was only practical. There’s no reason to go down this rabbit hole.

Still, you can’t deny the growing curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind. You hadn’t expected his offer to affect you this way, but it does.

After days of avoiding him, you decide to invite him to dinner at your place. Maybe if you discussed this with him, the dreams and inappropriate thoughts would stop.

The moment he walks through your door, everything falls apart. You become hyper-aware of his every move. You catch yourself stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking, and you flinch whenever he gets too close.

Finally, he’s had enough.

“Okay,” he says firmly. “What’s with you? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” you lie, your heart racing. You reach for your drink and take a hefty gulp.

“Have I said or done something? You’ve flaked on me the last couple of times I asked you to go out, you’ve left me on ‘read’ more than you’ve responded...”

You felt guilty for avoiding him, but you needed that space to sort out your thoughts. Though you wanted to have this conversation, you couldn’t find the right moment to broach the topic.

“Then you invite me over, barely talk—” he continues to rant.

“It’s... it’s really more of a me-problem,” you stammer.

“Just talk to me! I can take it.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

You inwardly groan, before finally coming clean. “Remember the last time we were at your studio? I was whining about...something.”

He squinted for a bit, then you could see the recognition slowly dawning in his eyes before lowering his voice. “You mean, how you take a long time to reach an orgasm?”

You shut your eyes, mortified when he articulates it. “Yes…”

“What about it?”

“It’s not exactly about that, but it’s more about what you said after. You know—your offer to help?”

His face visibly relaxes, prompting you to continue. “Okay.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, but you push through. “Did you mean it, or were you just messing with me?”

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head, the corner of his lips quirking up. “The offer still stands, if you want it.”

You sit there chewing the inside of your cheek, feeling torn. Your brain tells you to be careful—fucking your best friend could make things weird. But your body has other ideas. The warmth pooling between your legs makes it harder to think straight.

“Are you considering it?” His voice is gentle, giving you space to choose.

You deflect, buying time to sort through your tumbling thoughts. “I’m curious... have you thought about this before? About us?”

“The idea has crossed my mind from time to time.”

His candor sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“What about you? Have you thought about us...doing things?”

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be equally honest. “I never thought of us that way before you mentioned it. But now...” you trail off, unable to verbalize how his suggestion has shifted something between you.

He inches closer, but maintains enough distance to keep you comfortable. His expression grows serious, earnest. “Listen, I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. You’re one of my best friends, and that matters more to me than anything else. If I’m out of line, just say the word and we won’t talk about it ever again.” The sincerity in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart ache. You’ve always known him to be considerate of your feelings.

“You weren’t out of line.” Hearing you say this was a huge relief to him. “But you can’t really un-ring that bell,” you add wryly.

You also couldn’t get past an earlier comment he made. “So…you’ve thought about us before?”

He takes a moment before answering. “Yeah. I mean, you’re beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you?”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment.

Your best friend has always had this effortless way about him—you’ve seen firsthand how easily he charms people during your nights out together.

Your resolve crumbles, and honestly, you’re tired of fighting it. “How are you so chill about all this?”

He laughs. “It’s sex, not rocket science.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Things won’t get weird afterward, will they?”

“Afterward? So...you’re saying you want to have sex? With me?” His eyebrows raise slightly.

You already knew the answer to that question the moment you asked him to come over. “I guess I do,” you say softly with a nervous smile, “for science?”

His sexy, throaty laugh echoes through the room.

********

You sit nervously on your couch facing each other. Since this is completely new territory for both of you, you know you need to take things slow and make sure you’re both comfortable. Gathering up the courage to agree to this experiment is the easy part, but actually getting into it?

“Just to be clear—this is a one-time thing, right?”

“Of course,” he confirms. “This is purely for educational purposes. And your pleasure.”

You scrunch your nose in protest. “That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.” The idea of him seeing this as one-sided doesn’t sit right with you. “Shouldn’t this be mutually beneficial?”

“I never said I had to get something out of this. You want to experience an orgasm from foreplay alone, without mechanical assistance, right?”

You nod.

“Okay. So, let me focus on making that happen for you. You don’t need to think about anything else.”

You didn’t want to be selfish, but his offer was difficult to refuse.

“This is about you, not me,” he insists. His decision is firm and he wasn’t budging.

“Okay,” you relent. Fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt, you take in a deep breath and release it before muttering, “How should we do this...”

When Jihoon doesn’t immediately offer any suggestions, you think of the most natural way to start.

“Maybe we could start with kissing?”

“Right, good idea.” His voice wavers slightly, betraying that he’s just as nervous as you are despite his attempts to stay composed. Oddly, this puts you at ease—knowing you’re both on the same page, figuring this out as you go.

You both move in closer together, and time seems to slow as he leans in. Your eyes flutter shut, then his lips meet yours. They’re exactly as you’d imagined—soft, warm, and unexpectedly gentle. The kiss starts tentatively, but as your lips find their rhythm, everything feels natural.

When you break apart for a moment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re a good kisser.” You barely finish the sentence before being drawn back to his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against your lips as you both laugh, the sounds melting into your kisses.

Your kisses grow more intense, your mouth sucking on his top lip while his tongue traces delicately along yours, building a warmth that spreads through your entire body. You fist at his shirt, bunching the fabric between your knuckles, while his hand cradles your neck, his thumb gently stroking along your pulse point.

Gradually, his kisses move from your lips, following a path along the curve of your jawline, down to the slope of your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation.

He instantly pulls back, a worried look on his face. “Sorry, are you not into that?”

“No, no—I mean—Yes, I am into it. I’m just a little bit ticklish there, that’s all,” you explain.

“Oh... okay. Do you want to keep going?”

You nod, and as he leans in for another kiss but pauses when you place a hand on his chest. “You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this because we’ve been friends for so long, but I have to admit that I like it.”

“Yeah?” A smirk plays across his lips. “Tell me what else you like.” He nips at your jawline. “Or show me.”

Desire spreads through you like wildfire. This was the point of no return. You take his hands and guide them under your shirt until they cup your breasts.

“What do you want me to do?” He murmurs through your lips.

“Play with them.”

His lips capture yours again as he squeezes your breast gently.

He eases you down onto the couch, his lips trailing from yours down your neck to your sternum. When he lifts your shirt to your chest, you feel constrained and pull it off completely, tossing it aside. He follows your lead, removing his own shirt.

His skilled fingers unhook your bra and takes a nipple into his mouth while his thumb teases the other, drawing a sharp breath from you.

You run your fingers through his hair as his kisses trace down your stomach, making your back arch at the sensation against your skin.

His hands glide down your sides until they reach your jeans, where he carefully undoes the button. You hook your fingers into your waistband and start pushing your bottoms down. He helps slide them off, his touch remaining gentle but with a hint of urgency as he pulls the fabric from your legs. As the last piece of clothing falls away, the cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shiver.

One of his hands pushed between your legs, making them fall open shamelessly. His other hand continued to massage your breasts, making them unbearably sensitive. You can’t believe how slick you’d gotten in a short span of time. To think he hadn’t done much to you yet, apart from kissing you and squeezing your tits.

His gaze traveled down your body, lingering where his fingertips teased your sensitive folds. His feather-light touches made your inner walls clench with need. This only heightened your arousal, making you squirm beneath him, silently begging for more.

He slid one finger carefully into you. Your eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by your friend, kneeling on the floor beside you. “Don’t think…just feel.” You keened as Jihoon pulled out and thrust gently back into you with two fingers. You couldn’t hold back a moan.

It’s probably been a few minutes now, you’re not sure as you’ve completely lost track of time. You blink furiously in a mild panic and stare down at him, still leisurely finger-fucking you. What he was doing felt so good, but you weren’t even halfway to your peak yet. By this point, other partners would be coming up for air, wanting you to return the favor or just ready to stick their cock in to get their fill.

“Relax...” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh. Each deliberate dip and languid curl of his skilled fingers inside you made you wetter, gradually coaxing your muscles to yield. “It’s not a race,” he reassured you softly, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll keep going until you come.”

His words of encouragement sent waves of arousal coursing through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Kiss me,” you choked out, needing to feel his lips against yours. Without hesitation, he obliged, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep kiss that made you dizzy.

Your fingers clutched desperately at the edges of your cushions, knuckles turning white from your grip as you felt that familiar sensation between your legs. “Right there. Don’t stop,” you gasped between heavy breaths, your hips bucking against his steadily thrusting fingers. The pleasure was building to an unbearable level, making you feel like you might shatter to pieces if he didn’t push you over the edge soon.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things—words you’d never heard him say to you. They revealed previously unspoken fantasies that ignited your body and overwhelmed your senses. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if this was his usual bedroom talk. But that thought slipped away as his words and actions consumed you completely. Before you realized it, you were peaking.

“I want to see what you look like when you come,” he purred. “Do you look as pretty as you do right now?” Everything tightened in your core while he kept up his ministrations in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming…”

“Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he urged.

You let out a strangled cry, your mind far beyond the depths of euphoria to care about being quiet or demure about this. He was mesmerized, unable to look away at the sheer pleasure that washed over you. Before you could even process what just happened, he’d already hooked your leg over the back of the couch and covered your cleft with his mouth.

He stroked your clit with his tongue, fluttering over it, building your hunger back up again. He teased your slick folds, taunting you with the promise of another orgasm—something you thought impossible to achieve so soon, yet your body responded eagerly. When his fingers pushed inside you at the same time, you had to bite your lip to stifle a scream.

You came again, your thighs trembling, tender muscles pulsing around his touch. His growl vibrated through you. You didn’t have the strength to push him away when he returned to your clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…but now you wanted more. You needed to feel him.

You manage to sit up and squeeze his shoulder to get his attention. He peers up at you from between your thighs.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Already?” He smiles, teasing you with painfully slow strokes of his fingers. “Pretty sure I can get another one out of you,” he says cockily.

“Lee Jihoon—I. Am asking you. To fuck. Me,” you punctuated. “Will you do it or not?”

He sits up, turning sheepish all of a sudden. “I, uhm…didn’t expect us to be doing this, so I didn’t bring any condoms.”

It’s not like he was some random guy. Although you appreciated his caution, you just wanted him inside you. “I trust you,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to him.

After he settles on the couch, you shift unsteadily to straddle his hips, pressing your bodies together. Reaching between you, you fumble with his jeans until he helps, lifting his hips in a fluid motion to pull them down just enough to free himself. Bracing yourself, you let him guide you as you slowly sink down onto him. Your lips part with an involuntary sigh that turns into a soft moan as he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

When you begin to roll your hips, the friction sends sparks of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, your pussy feels good,” he breathes out roughly, his fingers digging into your hips before worry suddenly crosses his face. His cheeks flush as he stammers, “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You giggle at his compliment, causing your muscles to clamp around his length. “I’m not mad at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel really good, too.”

“Yeah?” His brow quirks. “You like when I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you moan, dipping your head to his lips in another kiss as you find your rhythm together.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer as you rock against him with increasing urgency. Before this, you’ve resigned yourself to never experiencing an orgasm from penetrative sex, and yet here was another brewing and there was nothing you could do but let it happen.

You gasp as his hand makes sudden contact with your ass, the unexpected sting making you freeze in place. You stare at him dumbfounded.

“What are you going to do about it?” he challenges. Before you can answer, his hand comes down again with another firm smack that rings through the room. “What?” The sound of provocation in his voice makes your pulse quicken.

You hover over him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer. Through gritted teeth, your voice emerges as a heated whisper. “Harder.”

“I thought so.” He smiles slyly before your lips crash in a fierce kiss that leaves you both breathless.

With a firm grip, he holds your hips still as he thrusts into you with deliberate, measured strokes. You clutch at him, the rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jihoon buries his face between your breasts, his rough groans reverberating against your flesh.

You whine helplessly, overwhelmed by the building pressure as the familiar coil of tension in your belly winds impossibly tight. Your thighs burn as you teeter on the edge of release.

“Yes...d-don’t...stop...hm...so close,” you pant.

He slows his movements to an agonizing pace, drawing out each thrust to drive you insane. He pulls out completely before sinking back into you with one deep thrust that makes you see stars. Your jaw drops, unintelligible sounds tumbling out your mouth as you come hard.

You hold onto him for dear life, your nails leaving a trail of crescent marks on his skin as he picks up the pace once again, his own rhythm becoming more erratic as he chases his own orgasm. A deep groan rumbles from his chest as your walls pulse and clench around him.

“I’m close,” he warns, his usually calm and collected face now twisted with agonizing need.

“Don’t pull out,” you manage to choke out between strained, ragged breaths.

“You…s-sure…?”

You nod eagerly. With your permission, he thrusts deeper and harder, making your neck loll in ecstasy. He draws you back into a rough, hungry kiss that muffles your shared moans as he reaches the end of his rope, his hips jerking against yours while he spurts inside.

Pressing your sweat-slicked forehead against his, you wait for your heart rate to return to normal. There’s no doubt in your mind—no previous partner could compare to Jihoon.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sigh. “We’ve been missing out all this time.”

He laughs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “It was worth the wait though!”

********

After a quick shower and a necessary trip to the pharmacy down the block, you and Jihoon return to your apartment with bags of late-night snacks. All that sexual activity had certainly worked up an appetite, and you found yourself craving something sweet. An ice cream waffle cone hit the spot for you.

“Are you okay?”

You smile, endeared at his worrying. “You know, you’ve asked me that same question multiple times now, and I’ll keep giving you the same answer—I’m fine. Great, actually!”

“I know, I know,” he responds sheepishly. “I just hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel awkward about any of this at all,” you respond with complete sincerity before facing him to find out if he felt the same way you did. “Do you?”

He shakes his head, tilting the bag of Skittles into his mouth. “Nope,” he answers between chews. “To be honest, I thought that was fucking mind-blowing!”

You inhale sharply at his candid comment, nodding in agreement. “Same. Absolutely no complaints from me!”

He gets up from the couch, takes out a small box from the shopping bag to set it aside, and stuffs your discarded candy wrappers into it before heading to the kitchen to throw them away.

When he returns from the kitchen, your eyes linger on him. “Thanks, Jihoonie,” you whisper. “For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a wink before sinking back into the couch beside you.

This turned out to be the complete opposite of your initial fears. Not only did this one-off experiment exceed all your expectations, but it seems your friendship remained the same. Though you never would have guessed that your best friend would end up giving you the best orgasms of your life.

As you continue to enjoy your treat, you notice Jihoon’s eyes fixed on your tongue as it swirls around the chocolate ice cream. His dark eyes watching you with the same intensity as when you came undone with his touch earlier.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Quit staring at me like that,” you cautioned, though your tone suggested otherwise.

“Then don’t ever eat an ice cream cone in front of me,” he responds with a chuckle as he subtly adjusts himself beneath his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling a warmth between your legs again. “You know...” you clear your throat, reaching for the box of condoms he left on the coffee table, “I wonder if these things really live up to the ‘raw’ feel.”

He clicks his teeth dismissively before responding. “I think it’s false advertising.”

“You think so?”

He takes the box from you, examining the label. “I mean, we do have a perfect point of comparison,” he reasons, a smile ghosting his lips. “Should we find out?”

You stare at each other for a moment before breaking into grins and exclaiming in unison, “For science!”

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Thank you for reading!

Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎

[neptilius]

I feel like a lot of people write gojo when he’s being playful or sarcastic but could you write moments where he’s serious or he’s genuinely having a heart to heart with the reader?

yesss i love these concepts! in my opinion i think he’s sexier when he’s more serious because we rarely see that side of himmmm 😛

“i quit.”

satoru froze in the middle of adjusting his jacket, the sound of your voice cutting through the quiet in the room.

he turned to look at you, his brow furrowing as confusion painted his features.

“what?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. his eyes narrowed as he studied your face, trying to make sense of what you just said.

“i quit,” you repeated, your voice steady but quiet.

you were done. done with the constant pressure, the constant fear of what might happen next. done with the world you had found yourself in, a world of curses, jujutsu sorcery, the thought of losing yourself completely, of dying before you even had a chance to live, had become too much to bear.

satoru’s eyes softened, but the confusion never left. “babe… you can’t just quit. not like this. not when things are tough.”

“and why not?” you shot back, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“why do you think i have to keep doing this? why do i have to keep risking my life, getting dragged into these fights, and walking away with more scars every time? i’m just… tired of almost dying.”

your words hung heavy in the air between you two, and for a moment, the room felt suffocating.

“you’re not the only one who’s tired,” he said softly, but there was a firmness beneath his words that didn’t match the softness of his expression.

he took a step toward you, like he was trying to reach out to you in the only way he knew how. “but quitting isn’t the answer. when things get tough, you don’t just quit.”

he didn’t understand. how could he? he was Satoru Gojo. nothing fazed him. he was invincible, or so it seemed. but you weren’t like him. you didn’t have that same untouchable strength. you were just human, and your body was starting to feel the toll of everything you had been through.

“you wouldn’t understand anyway,” you muttered, barely able to meet his gaze. “i don’t know why i even bothered telling you.”

the words felt like a slap in the face to him, and you immediately regretted saying them. his eyes hardened, but the anger didn’t burn, not the way it normally would when he felt disrespected.

“don’t say that,” he replied, his voice low, almost too gentle.

“i may not understand what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean i don’t care. i’m not gonna let you throw everything away just because it’s hard. if you quit, you’re just letting the world win.”

“maybe that’s what i want,” you shot back, the bitterness slipping out before you could stop it.

“maybe i want to stop fighting. i’m exhausted, satoru. fighting, training, always putting myself in danger for some cause that doesn’t even feel like mine. all i’ve done is survive—barely. and for what? to risk my life over and over again? i’m done.” you exhaled sharply, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill. “i just don’t care anymore.”

satoru’s expression shifted. there was no anger, no frustration anymore, just a deep sadness. he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two until there was barely any space left. he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt.

“i get it,” he said softly, the words so different from the usual brashness of his character. “i get that you’re hurting. but you can’t quit. not like this. not because it’s hard. i won’t let you give up on yourself. i can’t.”

he paused, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes locked onto yours, as if searching for something.

“look, i don’t know what it’s like to be where you are. i don’t know what it feels like to be on the edge of giving up, but i do know this: you matter to me. a lot. and i’ll fight beside you because i care about you. i care about you more than you know.”

the sincerity in his voice cut through you like a knife, and despite yourself, your heart ached.

“i’m not letting you quit,” he continued, his words steady. “if you want to stop fighting, that’s fine. but you’ll have to do it with me. i’m not going anywhere.”

you could feel your chest tighten, the weight of your emotions threatening to break free. you had been so consumed by fear, by exhaustion, that you had almost forgotten the one thing that truly mattered. not the curses, not the missions, but the people who cared about you. and the one person who was always there, even when you tried to shut him out.

you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. “i just don’t know if i can keep doing this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “i’m scared.”

“i know you are,” he replied, his hand gently cupping your face.

“and that’s okay. but you don’t have to be scared alone. i’m here, and i’m not letting you go through this on your own.“

you stared at him, the weight of his words settling in your chest. maybe you couldn’t quit. not like this. not when you had someone who would stand by you, even in your darkest moments. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep going.

[litnerdwrites]

But even then, he only shows her respect when he didn't gain anything from not doing so, or if Rhys ordered him.

He didn't respect her choice when the IC decided to lock her up. He didn't even ask what Nesta might prefer, or offer alternatives that might help her in the same way they (Feyre) hoped training might, like dancing as a form of exercise instead of training.

He was amused as he asked if Cassian pushed her down the stairs, which doesn't imply that he'd even do anything if he did push her.

Oh, and his willingness to push Nesta into scrying, despite the very thought clearly being incredibly distraught at the thought, just because 'Elain shouldn't be exposed to that kind of darkness' when one of them is clearly adjusting better than the other, and actively volunteering.

Speaking of, Amren admits that they used Elain to manipulate Nesta, which Azriel didn't voice any issue with, but the fact that they were willing to approach her after letting Nesta try, implies she was willing and able to do it from the start, in which case, A) Why approach Nesta to begin with, if she's as 'difficult' and 'wretched' as they say she is? And B) Azriel undermines Elain's autonomy by doing so, based on what he thinks is best for her. Much like Cassian and the IC do to Nesta throughout ACOSF.

He's the one who packed her bags to send her on that hike, without ever asking for her side of the story, or making an attempt to understand why it clearly distressed her.

There's also the bonus chapter for HOSAB, in which Azriel, much like the rest of the IC, was quick to turn against Nesta when she did something they didn't like. When Rhys went behind everyone's back to sell out Velaris to Kier, and make a deal with Eris, his actions were forgiven within the chapter, even by Mor and Azriel. However, when Nesta handed over the mask, taking an understandable, calculated risk that with an item that, for all intents and purposes, belonged to her, and gave it to someone she made the informed decision to trust. Yet, Azriel was just as quick to turn against her.

If you asked me a year or so ago, I might have agreed that Azriel was the safest of the IC, but since I started looking deeper into the books, I'd argue that he's just as bad, if not worse. He's only 'safe' for so long, and will go behind your back to undermine your autonomy if he feels like he knows better, or his High Lord wants him too. Much like Cassian, he's incredibly loyal to the Rhys, and while he may argue a bit more, he seems to back down pretty easily, as we saw when Rhys told him to stay away from Elain.

Ultimately, Azriel is only decent when he there's nothing to gain by not being. His moments of concerning behaviour, especially during times when Nesta isn't necessarily around to see it, make the rest of his less concerning actions less genuine. His actions, when looked at from this perspective, also seem more manipulative, which ends up making him just as dangerous as the rest of the IC, in my opinion. Arguably worse, cause I feel like it's much harder to spot it in him, than in the others.

the inner circle sucks so hard that azriel gets glorified for literally just showing basic respect to nesta. free her please.

[pedrospookie]

it seems that the eldest daughters of tumblr all want Joel Miller to come and take care of them (dear god, please please please, my soul needs it). this inspired me to start writing a couple of little Joel tales but until then, i thought this might tide us over.

someone (I think it was @itsokbbygrl ) said in the tags that Joel is a fixer and is def into parental issues and i literally cannot stop thinking about that— cause you are RIGHT.

it’s not my best work but alas!

Joel Miller x eldest daughter!reader imagine

nothing wild, mostly fluff! Joel soothing an eldest daughter’s nervous system one day at a time.

Joel would wash the dishes every night just because he knows how much you hate washing the dishes. It’s the least I could do, darlin’ he’d praise, taking immense pride in seeing the relief fall on your face.

Joel would kiss you just to kiss you; in the comfort of your home as you pass in the hallway, or out at the stables while caring for the horses, even at the bar in front of all the folks who know you. It was his small way to show his unconditional love and appreciation for you. He’d spend all day kissin’ you if he could.

Joel would take the time to rub your feet and ask about your day. His genuine curiosity about the townsfolk you encounter or the adventures you have brought a warmth to your chest as he works on the knots along the arch of your feet. He would always remember the little details of where you’ve been or what you’ve seen, or the names of the people you mention in your stories. Joel wasn’t perfect and would often get confused between Jess, Jessica and Jessa, but he certainly would do his best to keep it all straight.

Joel would listen and hear you. If it was important to you, it was important to him. He didn’t care if it was about how you admired the pretty pink colour of the flowers you passed by on patrol or how you had to remember to mend your socks later. He listened and cared. So much so, that whenever he could, Joel would bring home a small bouquet of said flowers for you after his patrol.

On bad days, Joel would be there. He would hold you through your big, ugly feelings, and tell you that it is okay and that he’s got you. Joel would force himself to stay calm and to speak softly to you, keeping his own panic and worry at bay. He would tell you that he was proud of you and your “smarts”, and that the only thing that matters is that you made it back home to him. He would slowly and gently wash your body and hair clean of all the blood and guts from the nearly failed patrol, and would mend every scrape and wound, sealing each one with a kiss.

And on the nights where you were plagued with terrors, the kind that woke you in a panic, the cold sweat glueing your hair to your neck and forehead, Joel would be there. To hold you and coax you back to sleep, rubbing soft circles on your back, and softly murmur that it is okay, that you’re safe.

In the mornings, you always woke to the smell of coffee wafting it’s way into your room. Joel always made sure to wake up before you, to let you have those extra few minutes in bed because he knew you needed them. He’d greet you with a big smile and a kiss, the kind that made you feel like you were back in the early days of your relationship. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, he would say as he placed your meal in front of you. Joel never let you leave the house without something warm in your belly.

Joel knew that you were more than capable of caring for yourself. Hell, you had survived 20 years in that hellscape overrun by infected, raiders and god knows what else. You had told him time and time again, often through gritted teeth, I’ve got this. I can do this myself. I do not need your help. Can you just let me handle this, please!

Slowly, yet surely, with patience and kindness, Joel slowly broke down your walls until you were ready to let him in. To accept the peace and love he had to offer. Joel is not a perfect man, but he tries. Which is more than most. He tries his damnedest every day to keep showing up for you the way he knows you deserve. To show you and make you feel the love, peace and respect that you deserve. And that? Well, that makes Joel feel a deep sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in years. He will gladly do it until his dying breath and that is a promise he will never break. The easiest job he’s ever had was lovin’ you.

tagging some folks who may like this (if not/tags aren’t your thing, just tell me to buzz off! I wont be offended!): @slimybeth69 @itsokbbygrl @mrsmando @evolnoomym @sanarsi @marilovespedro @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

[jeonscatalyst]

Whenever I see people scrambling to dismiss the possibility that Jimin and Jungkook might be more than friends by resorting to arguments like “They’re brothers” or “Jimin said Jungkook is like his brother,” I can’t help but feel perplexed.

It’s genuinely baffling to me because, what did you expect Jimin to say? “Jungkook is my lover”? The lack of awareness in such arguments is striking, and honestly a little disheartening especially when it’s clear that many of these people haven’t taken the time to understand even the basics of queer history, the reality of being closeted, or the necessity of concealing relationships to protect oneself and loved ones in the face of societal prejudice.

When people bring up these points, I find myself asking the question “When did Jimin and Jungkook officially come out as a couple?” The answer, of course, is they haven’t. So why would anyone expect them to act in ways that are only possible for people who are openly out? If our (Jikookers) speculations about them are correct, it’s likely they are still closeted and may even be hiding their relationship from close friends and family.

This opinion might be unpopular, especially among jikookers who believe that if Jimin and Jungkook are together, their families would undoubtedly know. But I don’t think it’s that simple. In my experience, coming out isn’t an easy or universal process. It’s deeply personal and often influenced by cultural, familial, and societal factors, particularly in environments where homophobia is pervasive. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty of why I think their parents and families might not be looped in because for many, unless you’ve lived it, known someone who has, or experienced such societal pressures firsthand, it’s difficult to fully grasp the complexities involved……..So I truly don’t see them letting their parents and families in on things as easy as many people believe it would be.

I think Jimin and Jungkook present themselves to the world as they believe the world sees them: bandmates, friends, and “brothers” from the same town. This aligns with public expectations and offers them a layer of protection. So how else would people expect them to describe their relationship?

Some might argue that they could avoid using terms like “brother,” altogether but let’s be realistic here……it likely doesn’t bother them. They know they’re not actually brothers and probably don’t view each other in that way. What’s more, I doubt they have any desire to let the public into the deeply personal aspects of their lives. While there may be a part of them that wishes to be accepted and loved for who they truly are, they likely understand that this isn’t a viable option right now.

The fear of opening a Pandora’s box of judgment and backlash likely keeps them from revealing anything beyond the surface. If calling each other “brothers” or even something as absurd as “father and son” ensures the safety of their bond, they’ll do whatever it takes to protect themselves and their relationship. That, unfortunately is what closeting sometimes entails so before you rush into my inbox thinking you’ve got a gotcha moment, remember this.

I hope people come to realize that this situation is far more complex than it seems. It’s easy to oversimplify or underestimate the challenges Jimin and Jungkook and other closeted people in homophobic societies might face but it’s crucial to remember that not everyone shares the same privileges or cultural realities. Not every society or culture is as accepting as yours might be. Not everyone has the opportunity to live their truth openly and without fear. You may not understand their choices, and you might not even relate to their struggles, but that doesn’t give you the right to dismiss or minimize them simply because their experiences don’t mirror your own.

Empathy and understanding are essential. Respect the fact that their journey, whatever it may be, is shaped by circumstances most of us can’t begin to imagine.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Wrong Start

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (with a twin)

Summary: You're arrested for a crime you didn't commit. After you point Officers Bradford and Chen in the right direction, Tim decides you got off on the wrong start and wants to make it up to you.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, discussion of mass murder, estranged family

Word Count: 1.1k+ words

A knock on your door at midnight wakes you long before you hoped to, making you reach for your phone. Los Angeles is dangerous enough with a mass murderer still on the loose. Your neighbor has watched the story closely, and though you’re not overly interested in the reporters’ version of the crime, you know it pays to be vigilant. When you see two police officers standing at your front door, you grip the phone tighter and pull the door open.

“Good evening, officers,” you greet.

The male officer says your name, and you nod. You spare a glance at the woman beside him, and she grimaces nearly imperceptibly. It’s fast, but something in her eyes tells you this night will worsen.

“That’s me,” you tell him. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re under arrest,” he states. “Please step forward and turn to face the door. Slowly.”

Your brows furrow even as you step forward and begin to turn. “For what?”

“Murder,” the woman supplies. “Fourteen counts of felony murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and domestic terrorism.”

“Whoa, what?!” you exclaim, pulling away from the half-secured handcuffs.

“Don’t,” the man warns lowly, gripping your wrist and pulling you toward him. “Trust me, you don’t want to make this any worse than it already is.”

“But I didn’t kill anybody!” you argue. “You have the wrong person!”

“That’s not up to us to decide. You’ll get your day in court, but the warrant says you are the person we need to arrest, so stop resisting.”

You fall silent as the man reads you your Miranda rights, and for a brief moment, you’re struck with an unwelcome sense of attraction. The officer is undoubtedly handsome, but this is not the time to develop a crush. You haven’t killed anyone, and there is absolutely no reason they should be looking for anyone even remotely like you!

At that thought, you stop on the sidewalk less than three feet from the police car. The handsome officer nudges you forward, but you feel like your shoes have been filled with cement.

“You are under arrest; do you understand that?” he asks.

“Why me?” you question.

“What do you mean?” the other officer – whose name tag you now see says Chen – inquires.

“Did you find fingerprints at the scene?” Neither of them answers, so you say, “DNA then.”

“It’s on the warrant, might as well tell her,” Officer Handsome but Grumpy rumbles.

“Yes, we found DNA at the scene of the murder,” she explains. “Yours.”

You exhale slowly. “I… I have a twin. Estranged, but we have the same DNA. How did you even connect it to me?”

“Short answer, trash is public property once it’s on the curb,” Officer Bradford explains.

“Okay, okay,” you mumble. Speaking up, you say, “I’ll go with you. But please look for my twin, I-I know I didn’t do it, so if you found my DNA…”

“Blaming a twin,” Bradford muses. “That’s a new one.”

“Tim,” Officer Chen whispers, cutting her eyes toward yours.

He hesitates, watching your eyes as you fight tears and stare at a crack in the sidewalk. Then he places you in the back of his cruiser and drives you to booking.

“She claims she has an estranged twin who had to have done it,” Tim tells Angela. “I don’t buy it.”

“That kind of devastation is hard to fake,” Lucy argues. “She seemed genuinely distressed that her sibling could have done this.”

“Or she was distressed that you didn’t seem to believe her,” Nyla offers. “I’ll look into her family, see what I can find. If she actually has a twin…”

“Let us know,” Lucy requests.

“Timothy Bradford,” Angela greets as he and Lucy return to the station. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Pass,” Tim says.

“You can’t pass.”

“Pass.”

“Uh, Tim?” Lucy interrupts. “Who is that?”

“Looks like your murder suspect,” he tells Angela. “What changed?”

Lucy flinches as the handcuffed woman jerks back before attempting to kick a passing officer as she less-than-politely asks for his handcuff key.

“That,” Angela begins slowly, “is the twin.”

“I told you.”

Tim turns quickly, and his shoulders drop when he sees you standing behind him. You send him a small smile and wave with the folder in your hand.

“You did,” he concedes. “Sorry.”

You smile as Angela pulls Lucy away from Tim. “No hard feelings, you were just doing your job.”

Your twin begins yelling your name, and you pull your lower lip between your teeth as you look down. Tim lays his hand on your arm and directs you away from the bullpen. Out of your twin's sight, you laugh wetly and thank him.

“I guess this is better than being wrongly convicted, but it’s…” you begin before shrugging.

“It doesn’t make this part any easier,” Tim adds. “Finding out someone you love is responsible for something like this isn't easy. I’m sorry you had to get pulled into it.”

“You’re much nicer when you feel guilty,” you muse with a smile.

“You’re just as annoying,” he counters with a matching smile that lets you know he’s joking. Mostly.

“And to think, I was going to tell the jury that you were nice to me!”

“You don’t have to testify,” Tim reminds you. “You were estranged, you didn’t know.”

“No, but I’ve seen enough to believe it. It sucks, but it’s the least I can do. Family or not, justice needs to be served. Dozens of families have been changed forever because of one decision.”

“Well…” Tim looks around before he decides, “Never mind.”

“Well, what?” you press. “You already arrested me for fourteen murders, this isn’t the time to get nervous to talk to me.”

Tim’s eyes widen in surprise, and he says, “You don’t have to say yes.”

“I don’t know what I’m answering, though.”

“Will you go out with me?” he asks quickly.

You hesitate to answer, and Tim immediately begins backpedaling. You place your hand on his arm and shut him up immediately.

“I wasn’t going to say no, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that. I thought I’d have to do it, and then get rejected,” you explain. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as I was when I arrested you.”

“That is not funny!” you exclaim with a laugh.

“Look, we got off to a really bad start-“

“The worst.”

“Sure, the worst start, but… you’re kind of great.”

“Kind of? I am amazing, and yes, I would love to go out with you.”

Tim nods, smiling as he offers his phone to give him your number.

“Promise not to arrest me again?” you request.

“Or?”

“I’m not going to threaten you, a few hours in a smelly cell was more than enough.”

“I’ll try to make it up to you.”

You smile and take several backward steps, then call, “First I’m arrested, then I’m annoying, and you’re expecting to make that up with one singular date night?”

“It’s a start.”

[zhelin-thames]

Disowned by Vlad, Adopted by Bruce

prompt idea

@silverblueglitter

Danny leaned back in his chair, staring at the clock as it ticked down. It was becoming unbearable, and his coffee was long gone. He needed something to take his mind off the pressure. So, naturally, he decided to take a break with a call to his old "father" figure.

"One second," Danny muttered, holding up a finger to Bruce, who was standing nearby, watching him with an amused look. "I need to make a call."

Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Danny picked up his phone, hitting speed dial with practiced ease.

The phone rang a few times before a familiar voice crackled through the line. "Danny, what is it this time?"

"Dude, I need you to disown me or something," Danny said bluntly, letting his shoulders slump as he leaned back in his chair. Bruce shifted next to him, clearly interested but not saying anything.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Vlad’s voice came back, a little more strained. "What do you mean ‘disown you’? I don’t think that’s how this works."

Danny exhaled dramatically, flipping a pen between his fingers. "Look, I found a much better billionaire. Even his basement is cooler than yours, and his mansion doesn't give me the creepy ‘don't go near the basement’ vibe. I’m just saying, this Bruce Wayne guy is kind of a step up from whatever mess you’ve got going on. You’re interfering with my ability to fantasize, Vlad."

From the other end of the line, there was an offended sputter. "What—Bruce Wayne? You can’t be serious. That man is—"

"Yeah, well, I might just call him Dad," Danny interrupted, a smirk pulling at his lips as he looked over at Bruce, who was now watching him with wide eyes. "Who knows, maybe he’s better at this ‘parenting’ thing. I mean, you’ve been busy being a creepy ghost villain, and Bruce... well, he’s got a cool cave. You should be jealous."

Bruce froze. His posture shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion and... something else. Something a little less amused. Danny was too wrapped up in the call to notice the shift.

"I don’t care if you find a ‘better billionaire.’ I’ve invested time in you!" Vlad yelled, his voice thick with indignation.

"Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for an upgrade," Danny shot back, crossing his arms. "Your mansion is a total dump compared to Wayne Manor, and it’s kind of embarrassing now. I might just take up Bruce's offer to adopt me. He seems way more competent, and, honestly, I don’t know what you’ve been doing in your creepy lair all these years."

At this point, Bruce was visibly processing the situation, his mouth slightly open as he tried to piece together what was happening. He hadn’t heard Danny mention wanting to be adopted by anyone—especially not someone like Bruce Wayne. His heart rate had picked up a little, though he quickly masked it with a forced casualness.

"I don’t need your drama, kid!" Vlad shouted in response.

Danny shrugged, his attention drifting back to Bruce. "Don’t worry, Brucie. I’ll come over sooner or later. Your mansion’s way cooler, and your kitchen has better snacks."

Danny could practically hear the steam coming out of Vlad’s ears on the other side of the call as the ghost finally cut the connection with a harsh click. Danny stared at the phone for a moment, then tossed it onto the desk.

Bruce was quiet for a long moment. "You... You really want to be adopted by me?" His voice was even, but there was a slight edge to it—a crack that betrayed something beneath the calm façade.

Danny shrugged, not meeting his gaze. "I mean, I could think of worse things. You're rich, you have cool gadgets, and, honestly, it'd be nice to have a family that doesn't involve ghostly vengeance, y'know?"

Bruce’s posture shifted again, and this time he didn’t hide the brief moment of genuine surprise. Then, ever the composed figure, he let out a slow breath, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t exactly offer you the freedom you seem to want, Danny... but if that’s something you want to discuss, I’d be happy to have that conversation."

Danny met Bruce’s gaze, and for a second, just a second, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter.

"Yeah," Danny said softly, leaning back in his chair again. "I mean, I guess it's not the worst offer."

Bruce’s expression softened further, though he quickly masked it again. "Good. Let’s talk when you’re ready."

The awkward silence settled between them, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. Danny could see it now, just barely. Maybe Gotham wasn’t such a mess after all.

Maybe it was just starting to look a little more like home.

[icarusredwings]

This only fits into my idea that Wolvie is demi. Sure he knows someones hot when he sees them but he dosn't really... feel anything.

He's been alive so long that people doing stuff to him just feels... kind of annoying at this point? Like yeah, okay, in Logan the drunk wife girl flashed her tits at him and he snorted, and rolled his eyes all embaressed but I don't think this counts as "hot and bothered." I think this counts as "omg lady calm down lol im just the driver lol" he did think it was a nice gesture but its an empty gesture and thats why it dosn't really do anything for him.

I think this is why he and Kurt get along so well (HERE ME OUT) Because one of kurts biggest "flaws" is that he is extremely touchy, and while the other x men cant touch logan much or lean on him, sit on him, etc, Kurt can full pearch on him and Logan dosn't care. Actually he does care. He's glad. He's happy that Kurt feels this safe with him. Happy that he feels comfortable enough to be around "the angry guy with claws". Happy that Kurt openly gives him affection without there being this weird "okay now we have to fuck" silent agreement. Logan is so tired of trying to get to know someone, cuddle them and hug them, without them immediately expecting them to sleep together. (*JINGLES KEYS* Stay with me!)

And i mean... no.. hes not sex repulsed clearly but it dosn't feel right in his chest. To fuck someone and then they leave. Wolverines mate for life so I think the thing is, what gets him hot and bothered is proving youll stay. Sticking it out with him through all times, telling him you're never going to leave him.

Then- Oh good golly then? Everything is horny worthy. You could just be sitting there and he'd get all pissy because now hes horny and mad about it. You could cassually bring him food and say you thought he might be hungry and he'll let the food get cold because hes too busy fucking you, and then eat the food after to show gratitude and appreciation.

Logan is not meant for hook up culture. He is made for "Our souls are so intertwined that seperating us would put a tear in the universe."

He could see someone whole ass naked and just blink and ask where their clothes went. You could tell him that you want him to do the dirtiest things and he'd probably just blush and think you have alternate motives.

I like to think that he does sometimes finally accept a hook up here and there simply because A. Why not. He hasnt been held in awhile and B. Why not he's literally gonn live forever might as well get some tail if they're offering.

But if and when he finds that person(s) he's locked in. Theres nothing no one else could do that would make him all hot and bothered. Someone could literally give him a lap dance and hed probably just sit there confused as hell, tell them stop, or just leave. It doesn't do anything for him at all.

Now litsen (at least in Finding Home Au, cause theyre married) Wade could come slip into bed with him, very gently rub his arm, kiss him goodnight, then cuddle into his back and Logan would automatically sit up and glare at him cause now hes hard.

"Why do you keep doing that?! Stop!"

And wades all confused "stop what?" Cause hes genuienly tired, but too bad cause Wolvie puts that baby to sleep a different way. (Best sleeps of his life btw)

Morph too, I feel like in 97 morph gets a lot of passes for jokes and touchiness. I also feel like that for the first week (maybe a month idk logan is dumb) or so logan thinks moprh is joking and dosnt actually care about him in that way, so morph starts saying more genuine and sensitive things to him and Logan now is actually blushing, still in denial but is catching butterflies, hoping that morph isnt lying but is too scared to make a move, worried their friendship will end.

Man idk what to say about storm. Logan was hot for storm the first time she punched him in the face. Idk what to tell yall, hes a simp for that woman and I am too so like I get it. Id be terrified to fuck storm though if I was litTERALLY MADE OF METAL like bruh he has more balls then me cause id be scared shed kill me after I ate her out by electrocuting me with my skull crushed between her thighs. ANYWAY

🫡🫡GLORRRY GLORY WHAT A HELLUVA WAY TO DIE 🪖🪖💪

I think Logan would be very difficult to get hot and bothered. Like. He's been through so much yanno?

Like flash a titty at this man and he'll probably be like, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Can't you take me to dinner first?"

[nauticaltrain]

is the way you interpret the stex characters, are they robots or a mix? since they don't feel pain, but bleed oil etc. what is the lore? are they built at a young age or are they built into adults? (p.s your art is delicious too look at !!)

ohohoho boy, the lore i have for you, strap in

(brief note, this is all my personal interpretation and is definitely not the word of god lol. I genuinely love every interpretation and believe that headcanon variety is vital to a healthy fandom ecosystem)

So, this is something I have thought a lot about and still continue to think about. I'm pretty sure I've nailed it down but it might still be a little nebulous so bear with me.

In the most basic sense, my interpretation of Starlight Express, and all of its characters, is that they are real world pieces of rolling stock that have the ability to shift between a train form (primary configuration) and a human form (secondary configuration). Not an uncommon idea in this fanbase.

However, I'm an overthinking bitch, and I love going in-depth on things like this, so let's expand a little.

There are three main phrases that I use to define my interpretation (headcanon? au? lore?) and to keep myself on track when developing ideas. Sort of layers, if you will. They are as follows:

Fabricated manifestation of psyche - This is rolling stock's appearance in secondary configuration, or what we see in the musical. Their human bodies are a cosmetic representation of their will. A psychological trick. It reflects their personalities, their jobs, their mental age, the demographics of the region they serve. There about a million different factors that go into how they look, and like us, they can't control it. (well, except for CB, but he's another story) It's important to note that this is a manifestation. They are not Transformers. Secondary configuration is not 1:1. There are certain things that get muddled in the changeover. Wheel arrangements being different, missing certain parts, changed color palettes. You could open one up and see parts but not in any sort of similar arrangement to their blueprints. I mean, who can honestly picture every single part of their body in perfect detail and then reinterpret it into a new shape? (this is in part my answer to discrepancies between the real costumes and my lore shh shh)

Counterfeit reflection of humanity - This is their minds. They are our copies. They experience everything we do. They work, play, socialize, fight, fall in love. You could talk to a piece of rolling stock and have a fully human conversation. They are people. However, the longer your conversation goes on for, you may notice certain...oddities. Gaps in their knowledge, speaking in rhythmic sentences, constant repetitive movement. Someone copied humans and didn't do the most perfect job. Like looking at human culture through a lens. Many a train has pondered the simultaneous existence of being machine and being alive.

Physical incarnation of industrialism - Now this, is the origin of all of this. The humans did not create trains to be the way they are. Every piece of rolling stock is designed as they would be in the real world: vehicles to transport people and goods from one place to the next. No one designed Greaseball's slicked back hair or big, studded belt, they designed an EMD E7 built for pulling fast passenger trains. My point is, at the advent of industrialism as we know it, the trains manifested their secondary configurations themselves. They are the offspring of humanity, sired by ingenuity and innovation and birthed from the overturned earth of the Industrial Revolution. No one knows how or why, they just are.

So, in summary, they're sort of robots? Sort of a power of the mind situation? Sort of my own self-reflection on the nature of being alive?

Bonus facts!

Indeed, they do not feel pain. In fact, much of their sense of touch in general is limited. It ranges from same sensitivity as human flesh (hands, face, wheels) to just registers contact (shoulder boxes, hip plating, couplers). I have a diagram of the exact distribution somewhere lol

They bleed? Kind of? If parts are pulled off or damaged, they sort of…leak. Also, if their fleshy bits are "injured", the wounds only heal when the actual machinery is repaired. Also also, if you remove a human part (arm, leg, head, etc.) it will turn back into a train part!

Their temperature resistance is notable too. Comfortable is between -10 F to well over 500 F. Anything above or below that, and they start to complain. Wooden rolling stock have a harder time than steel ones.

They're afraid of deep water and tornados.

In addition to their nails being painted in relevant colors (which I believe is a semi-popular headcanon already), their mouths are the same. Some more unnatural colors include, black, yellow, and blue!

Tall! Generally between 12 and 17 feet. Loosely correlates to their height in primary configuration. Some are the same height, some are taller, some are shorter. Really depends on personality. I contemplated once to have their heights be the length of their primary configurations, but that would result in some pretty awkward height differences and they would be too big for their loading gauge.

They always manifest as adults, or at the very least, late teenagers. They kind of age? Sometimes? Momma started out a bit middle aged, but Rusty has spent like 50+ years looking 25. Really depends on the person, workload, environment, etc.

[mylovesstuffs]

Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

A/N: Sorry, I got carried away and made it too long TT.

Joshua isn't just a sweet talker, he’s a menace with his words. Imagine him leaning in with that soft smirk and his warm eyes as he whispers, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” and you’re not even dressed up—just in sweats. You’d roll your eyes, but your heart? Oh, it’s flipping. And don’t even try to sass back.

Always using terms of endearment like, darling, love, babe.

He's the boyfriend who somehow always wins every argument you guys ever had.

This man would curate the most soul-melting playlists just for you. Love songs, sexy R&B tracks, even songs that remind him of you.

Don’t let the gentleman image fool you. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he gently tugs at your shirt collar, brushing his fingers against your skin as he adjusts it. And the way he smirks when he catches you staring? He’ll lean in and say, “Like what you see?” in that voice, making you combust on the spot.

You’re craving snacks at 11 p.m.? Joshua’s already putting on his jacket. He’ll hold your hand as you wander through the store, teasing you about your odd snack combinations but still buying them all anyway.

He’s the ultimate cuddler. Joshua will rest his chin on your head, his arms securely around your waist, and murmur little nothings that make your heart feel all warm and squishy.

The Protective Gentleman™: Someone dares to make you uncomfortable in public or even in private? Joshua’s usually gentle demeanor shifts in an instant. He’ll place a hand on your waist and give the offender a look so cold they’ll apologize themselves without a word.

Look, Joshua is a giver and overachiever in the bedroom. He’s the type to ask, “Do you like this?” in that deep, husky voice while holding eye contact. And when you can’t even form words? That’s his cue to smirk and go harder, exactly the way he knows you like. He’s all about making sure you’re the one who’s utterly wrecked by the end of fucking.

Joshua is the boyfriend who insists on holding you close whenever you’re cold.

“You’re so smart.” “How do you look this good all the time?” “I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He’s not over the top, but his compliments are so genuine that they leave you smiling for hours. Even if you’re having a bad day, Joshua’s words have this magical way of lifting you up without fail.

He remembers everything. Your coffee order, your favorite way to fold socks, the random anecdote you told him months ago—Joshua stores it all like it’s precious treasure.

Joshua will absentmindedly play with your hair all the time. Whether you’re watching a movie or lying in bed, his fingers are threading through your strands, gently tugging just to make you look at him.

Joshua looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He’s the boyfriend who says, “I want to grow old with you,” and you know he means it.

He might be soft-spoken, but the second you start pushing his buttons? You’re done for. His voice drops an octave, and he’s gripping your wrist with just enough pressure to make you stop in your tracks. “Keep testing me,” he’d say, with that calm, terrifying tone that sends shivers down your spine. And when you do, let’s just say you won’t win the next round...

Picture this: Joshua in an apron, trying his best to follow a recipe while sneaking bites of whatever you’re making. Flour ends up on both your faces, and he’s laughing so hard that you forget you burned the cookies. “Let’s just order pizza,” he’d say, pulling you into a hug that makes everything better. (Queue this)

If you’re ever upset, Joshua knows just what to do. He’ll hold you close, his voice will be soft as he reassures you. He doesn’t rush you to feel better; he just stays by your side, offering quiet support and the kind of love that makes you feel safe no matter what.

Joshua isn’t afraid to be goofy with you. He’ll make silly faces, sing off-key just to make you laugh.

Well, he's got the whole church-boy aura, but let’s not be naive here. That glint in his eyes when he’s pinning you against the wall during a heated makeout session is pure sin. He’ll whisper something like, “What would people think if they saw you like this?” just to watch you squirm. And don’t even think about trying to outplay him—he thrives on seeing you flustered.

At concerts, he’ll sneak little glances at you in the crowd and smile like you’re the only person in the world. HE IS UNREAL.

Joshua is the type to trail his fingers over every inch of your skin, memorizing the way you react to his touch. He’ll tilt your chin up gently, his thumb brushing your lower lip before kissing you like it’s his last day on Earth. It’s slow, intense, and leaves you aching for more.

He’s not flashy, but he’ll keep his hand on your lower back or entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly whenever he feels like it.

He doesn’t even need to try to make your knees weak. He’ll be casually helping you grab something from the top shelf in a grocery store and lean down to say something, with a grin that’s way too innocent. Sir, is this a grocery trip or a personal attack?

Late at night, he’ll play the guitar and softly sing while you’re lying on his lap, and boom—you’re gone to heaven.

After he’s made you lose your mind with those sinful kisses, Joshua transforms back into the fluffiest boyfriend. He’s wiping the smudges off your lips with his thumb, kissing your forehead. The duality is WHIPLASH, but are you complaining? No.

When he looks at you, it’s not just attraction; it’s pure adoration. And when he holds you close, you’ll realize that being with him feels like coming home every single time.

Joshua’s the kind of boyfriend who makes you believe in love songs again. His actions, his words, his everything—all of it screams, “You’re my world.”

Yeah, Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend, and honestly, you’re done for. Congratulations on never recovering.

[minnlahzz]

Alain Relationship Headcanons.

requested.

alain, alain... i hate french people, but ig he gets a pass because his pokemon are sick!! sorry for the delay of this request, procrastination gets the best of me

alain isn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. he’s reserved, almost to a fault (dangerously nonchalant 😔🙏) and it takes time to understand how he shows affection. he’s not one for grand declarations, but his loyalty and quiet care speak volumes. you might not get a lot of words from him, but his actions leave no room for doubt.

alain would never confess first–not because he doesn't care, but because he's too cautious. (also because he doesn't know how he would talk to you about this, considering he's still young and doesn't want to look like a fool infront of you) you guys have a great friendship already, why ruin it with all that mushy stuff? even if it's obvious you like him back, he's not quick to make assumptions and sees this as your 'friendly gestures,' which definitely killed you as he ignored all your signs BLINDLY. so realistically you would have to confess first.

when you confess to him, he just zones out trying to process what you said. almost like he didn't believe that you liked him back. It would go something along the lines of this.

you weren't planning on confessing, and especially not today. it just slipped out of your mouth while you guys were hanging out. “i think i’m in love with you,”

alain blinked, turning to look at you like you’d just spoken gibberish. “what did you just say to me?” he heard it loud and clear, he just didn't understand why you said that.

“nothing!”

“...you’re terrible at lying.” (he likes you back)

for him, actions speak louder than words. that's why his love language is 100% acts of service. he’s not great at expressing his feelings, but he’ll go out of his way to do it for you. need help with something? already done. forgot your umbrella? he’s there with one even before it started getting cloudy.

alain is okay with pda, as long as its not excessive or like frequent. holding hands? sure, why not. hugs? yup! kiss? sure, but only on the cheek.

he’s very observant and notices things about you that even you might overlook. if you’re stressed or upset, he’ll pick up on it right away, even if you’re trying to hide it.

alain can be quite protective, but not the point of being overbearing. he trusts that you can handle yourself, but if ever someone tries to mess with you, they're going to face alains charizard!!

arguments with him are rare, but when they happen, they’re intense. he’s not the type to yell or lose his temper, but his stubbornness can make things drag out longer than they need to. he hates conflict, so he’ll sometimes shut down instead of addressing the issue right away. it’s frustrating, but once he’s had time to think, he’ll come back to make up.

dates with alain aren’t traditional, and honestly, they might not even feel like dates at first. like a walk through the streets of lumiose city or spending time at a Pokémon Center while Charizard gets checked up. it’s less about the activity and more about being with you in a way that feels natural to him. he tries his best though!!

he's not that romantic let me make that clear, but his silliness is somehow charming in a way. he does hilarious things without noticing, and he'd just stare at you confused on what you're laughing about. he's the type of guy who would give you flowers randomly and then say "it was on sale..."

one time, you walked in on him mid-rant about how the weather was today, and charizard was just sitting there nodding like it understood. when he noticed you, he got all defensive: “what? it’s not weird.” yeah, okay, whatever you say alain...

rating time!! 8/10 he's actually really fun to be around despite his cold demeanor and nonchalant dread head energy, he's dependable and genuinely cares for your well being, but his communication skills are through the floor because its almost non–existent! goodluck showing him to your parents...

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 26

Personal Development Tools and Resources

Yesterday we talked about creating accountability plans, and today I want to build on that momentum by sharing some amazing tools and resources that have genuinely transformed my personal growth journey.

Think about the last time you scrolled through your phone, looking at all those self-improvement apps you downloaded but never really used. We've all been there! Today, I want to share what's actually worked for me.

The Simple Tools That Work Wonders

First up, journaling! But wait, before you roll your eyes, hear me out. I'm not talking about writing novels every morning. Sometimes it's just a quick brain dump while having coffee, or a few grateful thoughts before bed. (Quick tip: if you're new to journaling and self-reflection, you might want to check out my free Self-Worth Mini Workbook, it's got some really gentle prompts to get you started!)

Digital tools have been game-changers too. I absolutely love:

Notion for organizing my entire life (seriously, it's like having a second brain)

Insight Timer for meditation (the free version is amazing!)

Goodnotes for digital journaling.

Creating Your Sacred Space

Something that's really helped me is creating a dedicated space for personal development. It doesn't have to be fancy, mine's just a cozy corner with:

A comfortable cushion

My favorite journal and pens

A small plant (because why not?)

A few inspiring books

Speaking of books, these have been life-changing:

"Atomic Habits" by James Clear

"The Mountain Is You" by Brianna Wiest

"You Are a Badass" by Jen Sincero

View the full list here

Making It Work For You

The key is finding what naturally fits into your life. Maybe you:

Start with just 5 minutes of morning reflection

Use your commute time for personal development podcasts

Set up a simple evening routine for goal review

(By the way, if you're ready to dive deeper into creating sustainable personal growth practices, my Inner Glow Bundle has some amazing tools for this, but let's focus on getting those basics down first!)

The Power of Community

Never underestimate the power of connecting with others on the same journey. Some great ways to do this:

Join online communities (like this one!)

Find an accountability partner

Share your journey on social media

Participate in group challenges

Remember This, the most powerful tools are often the simplest ones. Don't get caught up in thinking you need the fanciest apps or most expensive programs. Start with what you have, where you are.

What's one tool or practice you're excited to try? Let me know in the comments below! I love hearing about your journeys and learning from your experiences too!

See you tomorrow for Day 27!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

A Dash of Sweetness

Sanji x reader (she/her)

English is not my first language

It's my first time writing for Sanji, and honestly, I struggled. I changed the idea a few times before finally settling on what you're about to read. I hope I did him justice 🤞

Ficmas masterlist

Main masterlist

The sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the Thousand Sunny in a warm golden light as you stood in the kitchen, nervously dusting flour off your hands. Sanji’s kitchen was his sanctuary—strictly off-limits to everyone else. Yet tonight was different. Tonight, he had let you in.

You’d been hesitant to share the story about your grandma, about the cookies you baked together every holiday. The memory was deeply personal, almost too special to put into words. But when you finally did, telling him how much it meant to you, you hadn’t expected the famous Straw Hat chef to stop, think, and let you bake on your own.

Now, as the crew munched on your batch of cookies around the dinner table, laughter and compliments filled the air. Chopper grinned with crumbs on his nose, and Luffy was on his fifth—or maybe seventh—cookie. Everyone seemed happy. But your gaze kept darting toward Sanji. His approval was the only one that mattered.

Unlike the others, he didn’t dive in right away. Instead, he picked up a cookie with his usual grace, studying it for a moment before taking a deliberate bite. You held your breath, your pulse quickening as you watched him chew thoughtfully. Every second felt like an eternity. Then, at last, his lips curved into that familiar smile—soft, radiant, and effortlessly charming.

“Amazing,” he said, his voice as warm as his gaze, which met yours and lingered. “Pure delight. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The tension in your chest melted away instantly, replaced by a rush of relief and quiet joy. Your smile broke through before you could stop it, your heart doing a little flip as his words sank in.

Later that evening, as you wandered the deck, a low murmur of voices drew your attention. Sanji and Zoro? They weren’t shouting, which was odd enough, but the topic of their conversation was even more surprising.

“Just tell her you don't like it,” Zoro said bluntly.

“I can’t do that!” Sanji’s voice was sharp but not angry, as though the idea genuinely appalled him. “Do you know how much effort she put into those cookies? How important they are to her?”

“You’re hopeless,” Zoro snorted.

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer. “What are you two talking about?”

Both men turned sharply, Zoro shrugging nonchalantly. “None of my business,” he muttered, brushing past you and heading below deck.

You turned to Sanji, raising an eyebrow. “What was that all about?”

He hesitated, slipping a hand into his pocket and glancing away, avoiding your eyes. “It’s nothing, really—”

“Sanji,” you pressed, crossing your arms, your tone firm enough to leave no room for excuses.

He sighed heavily, like a man resigned to his fate. “Fine. I… I don’t actually like the cookies that much. But I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. They mean so much to you.”

Your chest tightened, though not from hurt. “Why didn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to fake it.”

His gaze softened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Because I’d rather eat a hundred of those cookies than say something that might take away that smile of yours.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you glanced down, flustered. “That’s… really sweet,” you murmured, your voice softening. “But if you don’t like something, you should just say so. Honestly…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I remember them tasting better, too. Maybe I got something wrong.”

Sanji chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Well, baking’s an art. Sometimes the first try doesn’t hit the mark. Happens even to the best of us.”

You looked up at him, the determination sparking back to life. “Then I’ll get it right. But I’ll need your help.”

His eyebrows arched in surprise. “My help?”

“Yes, you. I need to figure out how to make them better, pleasee.” You gave him your sweetest smile, and he couldn't say no.

The two of you set to work, the kitchen quickly filling with the hum of conversation and the comforting scents of butter and sugar. Sanji moved effortlessly through the space, measuring and mixing with a precision that was mesmerizing to watch. But he let you take the lead, only stepping in to offer a tip or adjust an ingredient.

Sanji’s usual flirtations were dialed back tonight, and instead, he seemed... genuine. Every now and then, his fingers brushed yours when handing over a utensil, and you caught him watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your cheeks warm.

Finally, the cookies were in the oven, and the two of you leaned against the counter, waiting.

“So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence. “What made those cookies so special to you? Besides your grandma, I mean.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I guess… it’s more about the memories. Every holiday, we’d bake them together. She’d tell me stories while we worked, and it was just—simple, you know? A little moment that made everything feel... right.”

Sanji nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. Food’s never just about the taste. It’s about what it means.”

The timer dinged, breaking the moment. You jumped up, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the tray. The cookies looked golden and perfect; the smell alone made your heart lift.

“Well?” you said, holding one out to him as soon as they were cool enough. “Moment of truth.”

He took a bite, chewing slowly, his expression unreadable. You waited, your heart pounding.

Finally, he smiled—soft and genuine, a look that was just for you. “Now these... these are perfect.”

You couldn’t help it; you grinned. “Really?”

“Really,” he said.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Sanji treated you differently than everyone else. He wasn’t just polite or chivalrous—there was something gentler, something more genuine in the way he watched you. It wasn’t just tonight, either. Little moments like these, where his usual grand gestures gave way to something softer, had been piling up in your mind.

Maybe it was your imagination. Or maybe it wasn’t.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without your help,” you admitted.

Sanji stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “Maybe. But I think you’ve always had the recipe for something extraordinary.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The warmth in his eyes and the weight of his words left you feeling vulnerable but also… seen. Finally, you managed a soft laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing, then.”

“Good,” he said, a teasing lilt returning to his voice as he reached for another cookie. “But you should know if it means I get to spend more time with you in the kitchen, I don’t mind tasting every single batch.”

You smiled, a little wider this time, and for once, you felt certain—you weren’t imagining anything.

[theocddiaries]

Stone: Shadow, we’re not going to the planetarium anymore. Shadow: Oh… That’s fine. May I ask what I did wrong? Stone: Nothing. In fact, you do everything right. That’s why… [hands him a box with a telescope, adorned with a red ribbon]: …here’s your own telescope with triple magnification so you can watch the stars whenever you want! Shadow [takes it hesitantly]: This… is for me? I… thank you… uh… what do I have to do to earn the right to use it? Stone: …Nothing? It’s… a present. Shadow: Oh… What are the guidelines I need to follow to avoid having my rights to use it revoked, then? Stone: …None, Shadow, sweetheart, it’s a present for you. It’s yours forever. Shadow: …? Stone: Well, you could give me a hug if you’re comfortable with that. Shadow: Reasonable. Stone: Come here, sweetie… [hugs him tightly] Robotnik: Wow, you’re absolutely smitten with the kid, huh? If he were a normal, you’d probably even take him out and show him off with pride. [sighs]: Watching you two makes me feel just a tiny, tiny bit less disgusted by the idea of parenthood. In fact, I think I’d make a great dad. Since apparently, I wasn’t a good son, by that logic, I should be a great father. Shadow [snorts]: You? Allow me to sarcastically add a “ha.” Ha. Robotnik: A good smack is what my grandpa should’ve added to your face back in the day. Stone: Ivo, for God’s sake! How can you say that to him?! Robotnik: What? You’re not going to take his side, are you? Stone: Well, I can't when you spout such things… Look, to be a good father, the first thing you need is to be responsible-- Robotnik: Hey, hey, hey! What are you trying to say? That I’m not responsible? The nerve! When the TV disappeared from the house, you were all quick to say I was responsible! Make up your minds! Shadow: Sometimes, trying to reason with you is like trying to reason with a protozoan. Robotnik: Blah blah blah, always the same know-it-all garbage… Maybe you're right, though. If I had a kid like that, I swear I wouldn’t know what to do. Stone: Hm, it's true that kids aren’t always what you want or expect them to be. Shadow [stares at him] Stone: Not you, my boy, you’re perfect. [to Ivo]: This reminds me. There's another thing: you need to respect your children. Be patient. Robotnik: Are you saying I’m not patient either? When I had my appendix removed and the doctors were shouting, "We’re losing the patient!" who were they referring to, then? The stretcher?? Stone: I mean with kids. Robotnik: What can I do if they didn’t put me on their floor? Oh, wait, you mean tolerating their bullshit and whining… Stone [sighs]: Yes, their 'bullshit' and 'whining'… Robotnik: Oh, here we go with the sighing and staring… Are you going to teach me to be a good father? Stone: No, that’s not what I meant. Let's forg-- Robotnik: No, no, I’m genuinely asking, will you teach me to be a good father? Stone: …Look, you know I’d do anything for you, but with Shadow here, I don’t have 24/7 to give you all the attention anymore… Robotnik: Ugh, that stupid hedgehog always in the mid-- Wait! No, no! My brilliant mind has solved this frustrating equation! I’ll do things with Shadow, that way I'll show you both how good of a parent I can be! Stone: Uh… [sees Shadow looking at him, shaking his head pleadingly]: Ivo, I don’t think-- Robotnik: And I’ll do such a great job that people will stop celebrating 'Father's Day', celebrating 'Ivo's Day' instead. Who knew being a good guy might help me more with world domination than being a jerk? Funny how life works, huh?

[604to647]

Holidays in the 604

Hope everyone has been having a good holidays so far, however that looks for you or best suits your sensibilities 🥹🥰🫂🎄🎄

I started to write write some HCs for what the holidays might look like for the couples in a few of my series (Safest with You, The Rockford Portfolio, etc.) but for reasons below the cut, haven't had much energy or motivation to write (no need to read, it's a bit of a downer and kind of rambly!) - I'm hoping that I can find a little bit of both in the next few days and maybe get some thoughts down to still post.

For those same reasons, I haven't been on here much, to my detriment if I'm being honest - this place is a source of escapism for me and not being able to come on here for more than a few minutes a day has felt a bit offputting. I feel like I've missed a lot of amazing holiday stories that would have likely boosted my spirits a bit - I'll try to go back and find them but if you have or read any that you wish to recommend/share, please do let me know!

Similarly, thank you to everyone for your tags/mentions/asks - I want to get to them and maybe still participate in a few tag games if it's not too late when I muster up some energy. Thank you for thinking of me!! I truly wish that you all continue to have a lovely holiday season and look forward to ringing in the new year! You're all such a welcomed presence in my life and I'm grateful to each and every one of you for being here! Hope to see you soon 🥹 KISS KISS 😘😘

Ok, now as to why Emily has a bit of the holiday blues this year:

I didn't grow up with a lot of hard set Christmas traditions, celebrations around the end of the year didn't go much beyond the commercial and the holiday season was mainly appreciated for being time off (from school, work), a time to rest and relax. There was cheer and joy, but as the kids say these days, it wasn't that deep. I've since married into a family that puts A LOT of pressure on Christmas - with an emphasis on physical togetherness and adhering to traditions/customs, that (to me anyways) can feel at times more performative than enjoyable; I totally understand the comfort in doing things the way they've always been done, but a lot of times it feels like people are just checking things off a list rather than genuinely enjoying (for example) baking the Christmas cookies, you know what I mean? Couple that with my priorities for my kiddos' Christmas, the way we spend Christmas now can feel a lot like a season of obligation. Depending on what the particular plan is for that year, it can also be incredibly hard, draining, and not all that jolly for me.

This was one of those years.

I hosted the big Christmas dinner at my house and also had those from out of town staying with us for a week. I'm a Virgo who thinks of her home as her sanctuary, am a bit fastidious about her things, and sees value in being forthright. It's a lot for me to have people taking over my house, making messes, and pushing/crossing boundaries that I've tried to set due to previous visits, all while maintaining a certain level of holiday cheer and slapping on a facade of "it's fine" when I definitely don't feel that way. I'll admit I wasn't always successful this past week.

Mr. 604 is very supportive and knows his family can be a lot, but at the end of the day a) he's just a man 😂 (and not a miracle worker) and b) they are his family and he himself has had to "grin and bear" a great many things over the course of his life, so he has more practice at it but doesn't necessarily have any advice to impart on how to better cope with the chaos.

It makes me feel like a curmudgeon for not being able to suck it up more and pretend for the sake of the kids, or even to help maintain this performance of "family togetherness" that seems to be the whole point of whatever the heck everyone was doing. So this holiday season has thus far been exhausting, filled with guilt, and left me feeling a bit empty.

I am okay and recovering now, it will just take a few days I think. If you read this far - thank you! I just needed to rant a little bit - I don't feel much like myself these days and that in itself can be depressing, especially at a time when I'm supposed to be experiencing the opposite. Here's to some rest, some quiet, some peace in the last few days of 2024 for myself, Mr. 604, and anyone else who needs it! 🤞🏻🥰

[redmiser]

choose you

pairing: taylor swift x fem!reader

warnings: angst with happy ending, argument, blood (cut hand on glass), crying

synopsis: taylor's fame has never posed a problem to you, but taylor doesn't seem to believe that.

word count: 1.2k

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 　

when you started dating taylor, you were very aware of the fact that any wishful attempts for privacy were futile. you knew that the cameras and fans were ever-present wherever she stepped, but your preconceived ideas were still no match for the real situation.

that is why instances like these are still so outrageous to you. they truly did come out of nowhere—what seems to be a million of them. one second it was one fan, and the next it was a mob—a suffocating, endless mob.

“keep up,” she whispers lightly, moving past everyone with an agility only acquired after many years of practice. you giggle as she pulls you along; this is strangely romantic. she is clasping your hand as if you would dissipate if her fingers left yours for an instant.

“i’m trying,” you whisper back, still chuckling to yourself like a little girl. you look up at her face, expecting to find an expression akin to yours, but it seems to be quite the opposite.

she finally spots the black suv up ahead and thrusts you in front of her, throwing an arm around your waist and continuing to push you along. “don’t trip,” she practically barks at you, but you shrug it off. the novelty of the situation is very amusing to you, but you can understand why doing this for 18 years might cause it to lose its luster.

you arrive at the vehicle, and she hurriedly opens the door and shoves you inside. she wastes no time in following suit and closing the door. you sit in what seems like the quiet afterglow to you as the chauffeur drives away, only breaking the silence when you’ve regained your breath.

“guess we have to beat them off with a stick next time,” you joke as you pull out your phone to check your makeup. taylor doesn’t respond immediately, so you try again. “we could get a nerf gun and just—”

“this is what you signed up for.”

you turn to meet her gaze, genuine indignation etched on her face. you lick your lips and chuckle, not wanting to fully process what she said. “it was a joke, tay,” you shoot back, trying to ease the tension competing for air in the now seemingly cramped backseat.

“it’s not a joke to me. this is the reality of the situation,” her words are laced with a certain coldness you’ve never noticed before. your eyebrows furrow as she speaks; you can’t understand how you merited this reaction.

“i know, taylor. it was a joke, not that big of a deal. i don’t actually care.”

she scoffs at your response. “yeah, right.” she looks out the window to try dismissing the conversation, but you don’t accept that.

“yes, right. you’re making a big deal out of nothing, tay.”

you’re genuinely growing somewhat bitter by this point; you don’t understand why this is such a huge ordeal.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. i don’t want to talk about this anymore.” she takes your hand to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of it. when she lets go, she tosses her head back and closes her eyes. you decide to respect her wishes, but you can’t quite shake off the new strain on your shoulders.

you try to forget about it the rest of the ride to taylor’s house, but it is still fresh on your mind when you walk through the front door. you both toss your bags on the couch and continue to the kitchen, where taylor grabs a glass of water and you a protein bar. you blurt out your next words without thinking, just trying to get her to give the earlier conversation a satisfying ending.

“the day they invent invisibility suits, you need to invest in one, desperately.” as soon as you complete your thought, she slams her glass down on the counter, causing it to break.

she clenches her jaw, and you both realize that her hand is bleeding at the same time. “oh my god!” you rush to her side, but she swipes her hand away. “taylor, what the hell?”

she lifts her head, and she genuinely looks livid. “i told you to stop talking about it!” you can hear the pain in her voice, but it doesn’t seem to be stemming from her physical injury exclusively.

“well, i don’t understand why this is a problem! i’m just cracking a few jokes.” she snaps back in a mere second, shouting at you.

“because one day you’re going to stop thinking it’s funny!” she takes a sharp breath before continuing, quieter this time. “one day you’re going to realize it’s too much, and you’re going to leave.” her voice breaking with the last few words leaves matching scars on your heart, ones that you didn’t expect to gain today.

you brush her hair out of her face and force her to look at you with your hand.

“taylor, i’m never going to do that.”

a tear rolls down her cheek, making your own tears swell up in your eyes. “you are the love of my life, taylor alison swift. i want every bit of you. i will endure anything if it means getting to endure it with you.”

the tears are streaming down her face; the sight of her now bloodshot eyes finally makes you break, and you join her in crying. she grimaces and inhales before speaking again.

“what if you change your mind, y/n?” she chokes back a sob that breaks her sentence. “my biggest fear is you changing your mind.”

you wipe a tear from her face, to no avail, as more keep falling. you take a second to stare at her with a bittersweet smile on your lips.

“i’m never going to change my mind,” you kiss her. “do you want to know why i know that?”

“how?” she inquires, gazing into your eyes with a look you hope to never notice in her expression again.

“i know because i’ve experienced life without you,” you answer softly, your voice trembling, “and it is the single most unbearable thing i can think of.”

her expression softens at your words, and you instantly feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“there’s nothing in this world that would ever make me want to go back to that. not a single camera or fan can make me let go of you. i don’t care if everyone watches our every move. i don’t care if it’s hard. i don’t care if we’re the subject of every headline. if it means getting to be with you, i will go through it all with a smile on my face. i will choose you every time, taylor. i love you.”

her tears have partially subsided by this point as you gently stroke her face. she takes your hand and plants a kiss on the back of it like she did earlier.

“i love you too, but are you sure?” she presses her lips together and furrows her brows lightly.

“i’m so sure it hurts,” you smile, wiping away the last of your tears before kissing her. you both seem to have forgotten her still bleeding hand until she winces and looks down.

“oh shit,” she exclaims, and her eyes widen.

“oh shit is right.” you bring her hand closer to your face and examine the cut. “let me take care of this for you.”

you look back up at her, and you lock eyes for a few seconds, exchanging a silent vow as the corners of her lips turn into a smile.

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a/n: sorry it took so long to put this out, finals were crazy. anyway, all of that is over now and i'm on break, so i'll try to get out some more stories before going back to school. i hope you guys enjoy!