#I don’t. actually have names for these two yet

[purinfelix]

── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now. 

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are. 

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down. 

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door. 

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly,  almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much. 

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve. 

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before. 

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him. 

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time. 

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you. 

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily. 

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness. 

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.” 

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?" 

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing. 

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?" 

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-" 

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone. 

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car. 

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel. 

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel. 

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate. 

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you. 

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow. 

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.” 

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering. 

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh. 

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways." 

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something. 

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you. 

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest. 

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you." 

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex." 

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped." 

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me." 

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours. 

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm. 

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far. 

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm. 

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do. 

[httpsserene]

hi can i please send a request for the kink list rating? for franco, oscar, charles, lewis and carlos with begging. also congrats on 3k!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. this one is a lil shorter but i think it's actually better quality? don't ask mehow i wrote this in the middle of my 9 am lecture...i'm not proud of that either. happy 3k🤍 lovely !!! tysm for requesting xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 ���𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!black!reader x cl. 16 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | cs. 55 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

implied bdsm dynamics. teasing. overstimulation. hinting at the existence of a safeword in carlos'. charles' praise kink. oscar is a lil weird maybe. sir kink for lewis...my fault y'all, i can't help it.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Franco’s not going to give you what you want until you beg for it. He loves to watch you grow desperate, your voice whiny and eyes watery as he begins to tease you with the faintest brush of his thumb on your clit after he’s been shallowly thrusting two of his fingers within you nowhere near long enough to satisfy himself but for what feels like forever to you. Franco’s aiming to bring you to the point where his name becomes a synonym for please in your thesaurus. The purpose of his teasing behavior is to make you delirious with pleasure when he chooses to give it to you in full force—your orgasms are substantially more satisfying when he makes you earn it.

Carlos thinks there are very few things more attractive than you begging. He finds you endearing as you push at his chest, your voice slurring as you plead for him to give you a break, that you can’t take what he’s giving you. He knows you don’t mean it though, not yet, at least—because while your hands are half-heartedly trying to bat him away, your legs are locked around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed inside of you to disallow him from slipping away. Carlos gathers both of your wrists in one hand, pinning your arms above your head as he continues his deep grinding rhythm, muffling his rumbling groans into the crook of your neck—you know what word to use if you need him to stop. In the meantime, he’ll keep basking under the sound of your overwhelmed begs.

It depends—Charles doesn’t have sex with the intention of having you beg for him most times. Honestly, he prefers to make you forget how to speak during sex, he wants to hear you gasping for breath as he fucks the air out of your lungs. If you are going to say anything, let it satisfy his endless desire for praise. Tell him that he’s doing a good job, that he looks hot with his head between your legs—his praise kink wins over his begging kink any day. Occasionally, there are days where Charles is going to make you ride his thigh and keep you on the edge, your throat will ache from the amount of times you beg for him to let you cum—but, he’s not in the mood for that often.

Oscar doesn’t consider his particular affliction as a begging kink. With him, it’s more of a kink for good manners. It’s not like he’s making you ask his permission to do anything, no—it’s how you stare up at him with deceivingly innocent eyes right before you say, “Can I suck you off, please?” Or, “Oscar, I wanna ride your face, please?” It’s not like any man would deny any of your requests, but it’s how the word please sounds rolling off of your tongue—it has Oscar ready to do anything you ask of him. You think his arousal stemming from politeness fits his personality perfectly; he can only think it’s kind of embarrassing. 

You’re going to be happy with what Lewis gives you. There’s no reason to beg because you know that he has your best interests at heart. Doesn’t he always deliver? You don’t have to worry about what you want because Lewis is going to give you what you need—your focus is to sit pretty while he handles the hard work. Let him eat you out to his heart’s content, let him mold your walls to the shape of his cock through numerous rounds of sex—All he wants to hear from you while he does it is, “Yes, sir,” and, “Thank you, sir.”

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[seumyo]

I saw you wanted some requests!!

Could I request kissing Idia all over his face? I just feel like it’d be so funny to see his reaction

I hope you have a lovely day!!

idia shroud who’s doomed with lots of kisses.

Idia was losing. Badly. And it wasn’t his fault—it could never be his fault—his teammates were just outright incompetent.

“Seriously? Who runs straight into the enemy’s trap without checking the map first?” he grumbled. “Do they even understand the concept of positioning?”

You were just lying on his chest, your body nestled comfortably against his as you watched him play. Your arms were wrapped around his torso, your face just inches from his, and you hummed a quiet tune to entertain yourself.

You were so close. Too close.

And yet... Idia didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked it.

He still couldn’t believe you two were like this now—so close, so comfortable. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of letting someone into his room, much less on his bed. But now... it was his favorite thing in the world.

Especially when it was you.

Well, you were always the only exception to him whenever it came to almost anything.

Idia tried to focus on his game, his eyes glued to the screen as his character dodged another poorly timed attack from the enemy. “Are they... are they actually feeding the enemy team?! Oh my Sevens, I’m going to spam report them with all of my accounts.” He let out a dramatic sigh, his hair flickering with frustrated flames.

“Amateurs... all of them.”

“You get so worked up over your games,” you tease, your voice warm and affectionate.

He huffed, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “I-It’s because they’re so bad! I mean, seriously, who rushes into a 1v4 without backup?! Do they even know how to play?!”

You just smiled, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his chest. He wore his teal hoodie, the one you got him just because you can. “You’re cute when you get all frustrated.”

“They’re just... so ugh. It’s like they’ve never played a MOBA before.” His fingers moved with practiced precision, his character launching a series of attacks that wiped out two enemies in quick succession. “See? That’s how you do it. If I weren’t here, they’d be doomed.

You didn’t respond, your eyes still focused on him. Idia’s heart raced when he noticed, his fingers faltering on the controller. You were looking at him with that expression again—that sweet, adoring look that made his stomach burst with butterflies and his mind go blank.

He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on his game, but it was impossible. You were too close, too warm, too... loving.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“You look cute when you’re focused.”

He scoffed, his face heating up. “I don’t look cute. I look serious. Intense. Like a soldier.”

“You’re cute,” you insisted, laughing. “Very cute.”

His heart skipped a beat, his fingers faltering on the controller. He narrowly avoided an incoming ultimate skill, his character’s health dropping dangerously low. “H-Hey, don’t distract me!”

“But it’s fun.”

Idia rolled his eyes, sighing. “You’re supposed to be my co-pilot. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me win?”

“I am helping. I’m boosting your morale.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right. Some morale boost...”

Before he could say more, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin.

Idia’s heart stopped.

His body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. Your lips were warm and soft, lingering for just a moment before you pulled away as if it was the most common thing to do.

His character died on screen, the revival countdown flashing in bold white numbers. Idia barely noticed, his mind reeling from the sensation of your kiss.

“[Name]...?”

“I told you it was a morale boost.” How could you casually shrug this off?!

Idia stared at you. How did you two get here? How did he get to the point where he was lying on his bed with his girlfriend, cuddling up to him, kissing him like it was the most natural thing in the world?

More importantly, how did he get to the point where he was okay with it? Did he actually want you to be this close?

Your lips brushed his cheek, softer this time, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down his spine. Idia’s breath hitched, his fingers clenching around his controller.

“W-What are you doing?” His voice was embarrassingly weak, his heart pounding in his chest. God, how pathetic he sounded.

You, however, didn’t answer, your lips trailing along his cheekbones. Then you kissed his forehead, his nose, and even the little mole on his temple.

Idia’s hands trembled, his controller slipping from his fingers and falling onto the mattress beside him. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his body moving on its own.

“I like watching you play,” you admitted quietly. “You get so focused. It’s adorable.”

He groaned, his head falling back against his pillow.

“You’re... evil...”

You laughed. “You’re just realizing that now?”

“You’re worse than players who don’t know how to cast their character’s ultimate combo.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You then leaned in and kissed him again, this time on the corner of his mouth.

His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. You were so, so close now, your face just inches from his.

He swallowed hard. “You’re... really close...”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

He never thought he’d get to this point—never thought he’d find someone who accepted him, who cared for him, who wanted to be close to him. Someone who could understand him and make him feel as though he deserves to be loved unconditionally.

And yet, here you were, lying in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, your presence filling every corner of his heart.

“I... really like you.”

He likes saying it when he feels as though he needs to say it, which isn’t often, so it holds sentiment and tenderness.

“I like you too, Idia. Really, really like you.”

Idia was doomed. Completely, absolutely, undeniably doomed... and he never wanted to be saved.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[rollingeevee]

Hello @dawn-sky-collective! I apologize, it wouldn’t let me write a reply to your ask so I took a pic and tagged you instead. Hope that’s ok ^^;

I have not answered this yet, so let’s get into it!

Shadow Milk has things all over the Spire for his darling to do. One thing he is really good at when it comes to a darling is providing them with ways to stimulate themselves. There’s all kinds of tools to engage oneself in creativity, such as art supplies to be used for various mediums; journals and writing materials, canvases and paints, sketchpads, needle and thread, sewing machines, and more. There are dolls and puppets in your room to allow for games and plays. Cards, board games, and other such manners to entertain oneself occupy your room and the spaces you’re allowed. There’s also like- a ton of books, seeing as he was formerly known as the Fount of Knowledge before his corruption. While lies are spread all throughout the non-fiction books, the fiction ones, meant more for enjoyment than education, remain untouched. There’s also the many creatures who lurk around the Spire, some of which take a liking to you, unaware that they should fear their Master’s jealousy.

Mystic Flour’s darling I can see making a hobby of gardening and possibly cooking. Taking care of a lovely array of plants around your Beast’s domain, marveling at their beauty as you cultivate them. Cloud Haetae also loves it when you join them in the kitchens to make buns and other treats. Speaking of Cloud Haetae, they love to play with you, if you allow them.

Burning Spice primarily entertains himself through destruction and fighting, so that’s unfortunately the most his darling can find to do. If you’re lucky, you might find a scroll or two for reading, but that’s about it. Your best bet is to ask the Wild Spices to spar with and help train you (something the Great Destroyer does allow).

Eternal Sugar’s darling likely occupies themself with cooking, cleaning, and, of course, napping. Your Beast loves the food you make and often insists you cook everyday for her and yourself.

Silent Salt’s darling is another incredibly lucky one when it comes to this. Their darling practically wants for naught, as the Beast offers them just about anything they ask for. If they don’t have it, they get it. Books, games, art supplies, musical instruments, you name it. If you want it, it’s provided for you.

When it comes to what darlings are allowed to keep from their previous life, most things are actually allowed. Clothing, hobbies, trinkets, memorabilia. At least… as long as it is on your person. If these things are at home and your Beast is not the jealous type, you might be lucky enough for them to send a minion to fetch the things you wish to have from your home for you. Silent Salt is the best when it comes to this, since, as stated before, their darling wants for naught. The primary thing you are no longer allowed is, of course, your freedom.

[sinmartini]

"feels so right but it's just so wrong." // red!clark kent

notes: MDNI 18+ summary: clark kent is usually such a nice guy. what's gotten into him? wc: 1714 warnings: red!clark, face fucking with fingers, implications of oral (m receiving), clark being arrogant, pet names, fem!reader, not proofread.

“You are being so annoying,” Red!Clark told you, rolling his eyes as he tucked himself further into the couch settled in the loft. He had been acting so strange all day, completely unlike the best friend you knew and loved. There was a slight attitude in his tone, irritation radiating off of him, and pelting you with nearly everything that had come out of his mouth. It was almost like you were a human punching bag today; if an unkind thought passed through his head, he was more than willing to say it to you.

“What?” You snapped at him, finally nearing the breaking point. Your eyes pointed up at him, shifting your head in his lap to get a better look at you. It wasn’t uncommon to lay your head on his lap, the rest of your body taking up the other end of the couch. Actually, Clark typically liked it when you two did this together. Even though you were just best friends, there was an intrinsic need for you two to be in touch all the time. Hand holding, platonic cuddling, hugs that lasted a minute too long. Today, though… Today he looked frustrated by the way you were clinging to him, the physical touch he had once loved from you be damned. 

Not only had you just experienced something completely terrible, with Clark swooping in to save you at the last minute yet again, but he was being such a jerk.

“I just never realized how needy and clingy you are. What you did back there was dangerous too. Don’t you have any inkling for self preservation?” Clark’s words were one thing, but his actions were indicative of another as he gently stroked his fingers through your hair. 

Was he wrong? Not really. You were needy and clingy when it came to him, but that’s how it’s always been with the two of you. Hell, he was just as clingy most of the time. That’s what came along with knowing his secret; being one of the only people who actually knew the real Clark Kent. 

“Clark, you know I’d do anything for a story. The Daily Planet isn’t going to promote me if I only write boring headlines. I thought that’s why we work so well together? I can bust a crime ring and you’re always there to swoop in.” You were trying to reason with him now, get to the bottom of what was really going on inside of his head. Ever since this morning, it was like Clark had been stripped from all his inhibitions, most of the qualities that made Clark… Well, Clark, had somehow disappeared.

“Good writers can make a story out of anything,” Clark noted, his fingers still stroking through your hair. “They don’t have to put themselves in constant danger and despair to write a think piece.”

“You don’t think I’m a good writer?” You asked him, trying to lift your head from his thigh, needing to create some space between you and your best friend before he could say something that might kill your spirits all together.

“You could be better,” Clark shrugged, his shoulders lifting and collapsing in one cohesive motion as disinterest flickered across his face. You could tell he was done with the conversation now, dishing out that he didn’t think you were that great at what you do, then ready to move on like you weren’t going to have more questions for him.

It wasn’t often that you cried in front of Clark. On the off chance that you did cry in front of him, it was for good reason, and Clark had never made you cry. Until now. The tears that threatened the corner of your waterline were mortifying, and the more you tried to blink them away, the quicker they began formulating. 

Once more, you tried to move yourself off of his lap, but Clark held you in place. Finally, he looked down at you, his facial expression shifting from disinterest to amusement when he saw the tears spilling down your cheeks. There was no way you could have missed the way his lips curled up, just enough to show he enjoyed the sight of you messy on his lap. And there was absolutely no way to miss the way his eyes shimmered with delight, darkening at the sight of your bottom lip quivering.

“You’re crying? C’mon, it wasn’t that mean,” Clark scoffed as his hand found its way from your hair to your chin, holding your face between his thumb and his forefinger. Vulnerability flooded through you as Clark examined every aspect of your face with such intensity, you wanted to shrink under his gaze.

As you opened your mouth, trying to find the words to let Clark know he had been hurting your feelings all day, it wasn’t just this offhand comment that was contributing to your tears, a small sob released from your chest. The words didn’t come out, only heavier breathing and more tears.

“So fussy,” Clark said, his voice sultry and thick as he gently stroked his pointer finger from your chin to your mouth, placing it between your lips and forcing you to open up. You didn’t know why you were being so compliant with it, but Clark pushed his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth, pressing harshly on the middle of  your tongue and you couldn’t help the moan that stirred. “Let me pacify you.”

Your moans were vibrating off of his fingers as he worked them in and out of your mouth, his gaze fixated on you in a way you had never seen before. It wasn’t just lust that filled it eyes; it was carnal desire, like in this moment he needed you as much as you needed him. At least, that is likely what he wanted you to think.

There was something intrinsically hot about the situation as a whole— you laying there, crying on his lap as he hushed you with his fingers in a way that could be written in an erotica book. Nothing about it felt right, but it didn’t feel wrong either, and you could tell Clark felt the same way by the tent growing underneath his jeans, the length of him pressing against the seat of his pants.

Your mouth salivated at the thought of it, creating more lubricant to slide his fingers in and out of your mouth. His eyes traveled to where you were looking, curious as to what had stopped your tears in their tracks and distracted you. A chuckle, deep from his chest sounded, as he realized how desperate you were for it. Part of him had to know, this whole time, that you wanted him in a way that was less than platonic, right?

“Feels so right but it’s just so wrong,” Clark said, reading your mind as he pushed his fingers in deeper. The tip of his finger hit your gag reflex, causing your head to lurch, but he pushed you back down in his lap. The disinterest that flooded his features less than five minutes ago had completely evaporated, now replaced with sheer and utter amusement.

You were so wet, it was uncomfortable. Your core was dripping with desire, soaking into your cotton panties and clinging to you just enough to overwhelm you. With furrowed brows, you tried to talk around Clark’s fingers, and that prior expression of annoyance had returned once more.

“You’re not supposed to be talking, bunny, that’s the point of this. I want you to shut up.” Clark moved his fingers against your tongue once more, pressing and pushing on the insides of your cheeks, carefully grazing the gag reflex every so often in a teasing gesture. He couldn’t help but taunt you, just a bit.

You made a muffled noise, a whine mixed with a moan. Even with his fingers in your mouth, you were still being fussy.

“What?” Clark asked, his tone full of mockery as he offered a sympathetic expression that you knew to be just another one of his taunts. If you weren’t so turned on, you would be trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him, but right now you were too blinded by desire to care— even if that meant Clark was going to mock you the entire time. “You want my cock in your mouth instead? Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Your eyes widened and you frantically nodded around his fingers. He didn’t need to see more before he was unbuttoning his pants as you gently lifted your head to allow him to kick them off.

But as soon as Clark’s pants were off, his expression had shifted completely. The mocking expression was now laced with confusion, the evidence of what you were about to get into pressed against the hem of his boxers. 

It was hard for him to look you in the eyes, and you weren’t sure why the sudden shift in demeanor until he asked you, “can you empty out the pockets of my jeans?”

You moved off the couch, picking up his jeans and shuffling through the pockets, feeling silly with the dried tears on your face and Clark’s seeming lack of interest in you now. In the very bottom of his right pocket, there was one ruby earring. You placed it in your palm, showing it to him and that’s when it hit you both.

“Red kryptonite,” Clark said definitively and you thought you could melt right there. His behavior had a reason behind it, yours was driven by pure desire. “I thought it was a ruby earring. I found it at the Talon and was going to turn it into their lost and found.”

“Oh god,” you said, dropping the earring on the floor of the loft. Your feet were moving down the stairs, bolting for the exit before your brain could catch up with you.

Clark stood at the top of the stairs, his half hard dick still swinging in his boxers, “Wait! Let’s talk about this. Please.”

Slowly, with one hand on the door, you turned around to look at him, avoiding looking below the waist. Maybe you two could work things out. In more ways than one.

[zeropro]

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 

happy valentrine’s day!

[leneires]

knives & confessions suguru geto ᥫ᭡

pair. owner! suguru x cat hybrid! reader | genre. fluff, slight dead dove if you squint, established relationship, suggestive smut, oneshot, hinted sadist & masochist | warning. hinted knife play, one time mention of the word ‘papa’ so block if you don’t like that , very mild dark themes. | 1,006k. words

۶ৎ synopsis. Suguru comes home to a valentine’s day surprise prepared by his one and only sweet girl after long hours of working. ⤿ inspo !

Droopy eyes and a quivering lip. She stares at the sheet of envelope. Draped in the dusty rose of her kissed imprints. Her fur tuft tail twitches. Perked ears hanging low. “Suguru.” she murmurs. The name despite it’s familiarity still feels foreign to her tongue when saying it. She neatly writes the name, a crisp expression tracing the corners of her lips once finished. ‘Suguru Geto’ it displays. Embedded in cursive. What if he were to discard her letter ? laugh at her foolish confession and mock her otherwise. A heap of stickers adornes the envelope. She had taken extra time to dedicate each piece of sticker based on his favorite colors.

However, Suguru & her weren’t alike. He was human. And she wasn't. An eager kitten like her living under his roof did have it’s perks though. He was her doting owner after all. Lavished in his tender kisses nonstop with his coarse hands giving her fluttering ears the scratches she’d oh so love to her heart’s content. She stares at the pint sized polaroid tucked within the envelope. A photograph of her perched atop his lap while her canines, not so sharp nor strong enough to pierce a single barrier of skin. Remains in Suguru’s cheek. Two wide toothy grins exchanged between them as his hand grips her chin, facing the camera. The initials ‘s’ & her's are scribbled at the bottom.

Valentine’s day, an occasion of heartfelt romance. Bouquets and chocolates served for their soulmates, loved one’s included such as a friend or relative. Never has she tried partaking in the tradition. Neither did Suguru. Yet as the years prolong, from being a feline stray wandering around the dumpsters for any scrap of food to being welcomed in his arms for a warm home she’s never asked for nor expected. Her stomach then coils, butterflies erupting at the reminiscencing thought. “Yes. I can surely do this.” She reminds, irked at the fact she’s talking to no one in particular than herself.

As long as it eases her then it’s no big deal. She seals the letter closed & positions it on the handmade bouquet. lilac, his favored color. Making crochet flowers was the closest to an actual one. Embarrassment fuels her. Despite having unlimited access to his credit card, she isn't just a little girl needing his guidance at all times. No matter the amount of times Suguru coddles her daily and coos at her for trying to mirror his way of living. Even though she loves it in secret, a fraction of her independence is still there.

Treading towards the doorway. She hides the bouquet behind her, in a few minutes or seconds. He’d announce his arrival. The rush of excitement blended with her fidgety tail & ears emerges. Three loud knocks are delivered. Followed by an exhausted grunt & a pair of jingling keys.

Her tail wiggles in return. “There’s my girl.” Suguru is quickly dragged by the arm once locking the threshold. Collapsing on the arm chair, straddled by none other than her. Loud purrs resonating in the air while nuzzling her head at the crook of his neck. He strokes her temples , gently shoving a digit on her drooling mouth. Never has she been this clingy, Usually, he‘s accustomed to her meek demeanor. Too cautious of initiating handsy gestures, not unless he does it first. Suguru scoffs at her and gives her tongue a light hearted pinch. “What’s gotten you so worked up huh ?” The drool coating his fingers doesn't faze him when he pulls them away.

“Please close your eyes, promise you won’t open them.” she cages his torso, thighs draped on both sides of the seat with her arms hooked on his shoulders. Suguru rubs circular patterns on her rear that’s only adorned in a sheer skirt, coated in soft pink. One of his favorites too. He hums in response as he follows her instruction. “Anything for you.” His pupils are closed with a prying chuckle.

Her heart drums. Each beat is erratic, irregular. “It’s okay baby.” Suguru pats her head, ruffling her twin braids in reassurance. Flustered, she quietly nods in response. With a relieved sigh slipping pass her lips. She takes a hold of his palm and gives it a squeeze. Suguru opens his eyes. The glimpse of her shaky hands holding a bouquet, handcrafted with a glimpse of an envelope laid at the bottom instantly melts him. His sweet girl, his one and only little girl. Suguru fully knows he’s won the lottery, wholly.

“Do you like it? I—I’m sorry. I just, just…” she takes a deep heavy breath when Suguru stills her trembling ankles, both of his grasps firmly pressed on her knees to lull the wary look on her poor little expression. “I just…like you” she trails off. Her tail freezes, pointed ears rising at the sudden burst of his laughter. Suguru throws his head back and shoots her an amused glance. “You were nervous over a confession ? we’ve been dating for a while now, baby. You really are full of surprises.” he shakes his head at her.

“I like you too.” Suguru places a kiss atop of her head, a polished dagger bundled in a pink bow handed to her. He guides her wavering clutch near his jawline. The steel knife brushing his scarred flesh. “You know what to do.” Suguru taps her temples, urging her to go ahead.

She carves her initial on his skin, her tail eventually snakes around his forearms. Delighted purrs and giggles chiming in the walls when the crimson beads of blood splatters on her temples. “I love you lots papa!” Suguru can’t help but groan at her giddiness. He briskly tugs at her tuft, grip tightening around her limbs when the blade pierces him. He automatically throbs. Fuck.

“Atta girl. I fucking love you more. “ Of course, Suguru also has a surprise prepared, long before Valentine's day started. Except it’s in their bedroom. The visible bulge on his slacks tells enough.

[ready-to-read7]

Prompt #11

Okay I have recently discovered the wonders that is the creepy Vlad misunderstandings teen dad Danny  whatever, I don’t know if there is a proper name for it or not but anyway I also like the idea of Constantine being Danny’s dad) (also I do not believe that Mattie would  cheat  on Jack so I’m going to say something else happened ) ( also to make this more dramatic say Danny is trans,) ( also I know this would not  make any sense  but I’m going to say Constantine cannot sense beings from the infinite realms more specifically the ghosts unless he tries very hard so imagine how much more difficult it would be to sense a ½ ghost, so a.k.a. he does not know Danny is half ghost, yet)

 John Constantine had never had kids as far as he believed and knew and if he did they would be like half demon kids that were immediately taken away and  used for something horrible like a sacrifice or something so he never got to watch them grow up or build a connection with them but there was one exception, John Constantine did not really know about the boys existence for the first 10 years of the boys  life but somehow he learned of Danny and despite never interacting with him personally only keeping an eye on him occasionally he felt a connection one  sided connection mostly but a connection, he would never admit it but he loved his son

So imagine his shock and absolute rage when he finds his son beaten, bloodied and clutching his stomach/chest like it was his last life line. John had not checked up on his son in slightly over two years last time he came to check on his son it was a few days after his 14th birthday ( a.k.a. before the accident) because things became too busy.

So John  would immediately take him to the house of mysteries to heal him and one of his cursed/possessed/living objects told john  that there was more than one person that he brought into the house, John will be confused by this and would then use a bit of magic to search for the other person only to realize that the other person was a baby inside of his son.

John obviously knew his son was trance and he really did not care, Once again he would never admit it but he loved him and based on the amount of bruising cuts and probably a few other things John Constantine would come to the conclusion that his son was assaulted and this would truly make his blood boil.

(what actually happened was Elly was destabilizing and she needed to be incubated to save her life so Danny took her core into himself and because she is still technically have human a small body started forming inside of him making him technically pregnant, but due to his parents figuring out about his ghost half and not having a very good reaction to it they captured him and kind of tortured him they didn’t get to a vivisection yet because he was too scared they would destroy Ellys core, so he used his remaining power to create an explosion of some kind and escape and then pass out a couple few kilometres away from town.)

After Danny woke up John would explain who he was and that Danny was now safe, obviously his life would be a bit weird now but John would try his best to protect him.

John  would obviously ask Danny if he wants to keep the baby and Danny would say yes, and John would leave it at that not really happy that his son will have to become a teen dad but he wasn’t going to push it.

[losernb]

Valentine's Day Surprise

Sevika’s never experienced  this before. Valentine's Day is a Piltover holiday, there’s no time for stuff like this in Zaun. She never would’ve known about it if she didn’t decide to take you and the girls out for a fun day last week.

Valentine’s Day:

“Look over there!” Jinx points, drawing Isha’s attention to the giant sign. It’s bright pink, covered in a bunch of hearts, and it reads:

Valentine’s Day Sale- All the chocolate, flowers, and plushies a girl could ever want!

Isha’s face lights up with excitement as she reads it. Candy, flowers, and a new teddy bear?! I want them! She signs eagerly towards Jinx.. 

“You gotta ask Sevika, she’s the one with the money.” Jinx says with a laugh.

Without hesitation, Isha dashes over to where you and Sevika are talking, tugging insistently at Sevika’s sleeve. Sevika looks down at her, brow raised in confusion.

“What’s wrong kid?” Sevika asks, voice hinting with confusion. Isha points to the sign, causing both you and Sevika to turn and look at it. You laugh a little, knowing why she was drawing your attention to it. 

“Looks like we know what we’re buying today.” You laugh and pick Isha up, settling her down on your hip and kissing her cheek. She giggles and throws both arms up, letting out a victorious squeal. Sevika rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, “Alright, c’mon girls let’s go see what this is about.”

The four of you walk into the store, taking in the assortment of flowers and the piles of plushies. Isha and Jinx are mesmerized. Before you can blink, Isha wriggles out of your arms, grabbing Jinx’s hand and dragging her toward the stuffed animals.

“The hell is ‘Valentine’s Day’ anyway?” Sevika asks you, never having heard of it before. You grew up in Zaun as well so you had no clue. 

“Maybe we can go ask?” You suggest, walking up to the first worker you see. It’s an older lady who smiles when she sees the two of you. “Hello, what can I do for you lovely ladies?” She asks, smiling warmly.

“Hi, I just wanted to ask what Valentine’s Day is, I saw it on the sign outside.” You reply, offering back a small smile. 

The woman lets out a small laugh, “Oh dear, you’ve never heard of Valentine’s Day? Are you new to Piltover?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually. We don’t really have fancy holidays in Zaun—just birthdays and anniversaries, mostly.”

Sevika shifts beside you, resting a hand on your back—a habit of hers whenever she senses something’s off. You glance at her, noticing the subtle furrow in her brow.

Then, the woman’s smile fades. Her expression stiffens, her warmth turning to something colder.

“Oh,” she says, voice suddenly clipped. “Well, it’s a day to celebrate loved ones.” The words feel forced, like an afterthought. “Excuse me, I need to go.” She turns abruptly, walking away without another word.

You turn back to Sevika and understand the look now, she caught the lady’s shift in attitude before you did. You kiss her cheek, as a reminder that everything’s okay. “Cmon Sevi, lets just get our girl and go.” Sevika nods, jaw tight, but says nothing.

You make your way over to Jinx and Isha, who are still enthralled by the plushies.

“Pick out anything you like yet?” You bend down to ask Isha. She’s holding a little brown bear and Jinx is holding a bunny. This one! She signs, putting down the bear to free up her hands.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to see a small man, his posture stiff, a name tag reading Manager pinned to his vest.

“Could you please leave?” His tone is polite, but his expression is anything but.

You don’t need to ask why. The woman from earlier must’ve told him where you’re from. Zaunites aren’t banned from Piltover stores, but some people—especially in places like this—act like they should be.

You sigh, standing up and gently gathering Isha into your arms.

What’s happening? Isha signs, confusion flickering across her face.

“We gotta go, kiddo,” Jinx says with a sigh, patting her back.

Isha deflates against your shoulder, small hands gripping your jacket. Her excitement, her joy—gone in an instant.

Sevika sees it, too. The hurt in Isha’s expression. The way Jinx looks away, lips pressed into a thin line. And something inside her snaps.

She steps forward, towering over the manager. “Yeah? And what exactly is the reason we need to leave?” Her voice is steady, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

The manager swallows, visibly intimidated. “I—I just think it would be best if—”

“Best for who?” Sevika cuts him off. “We were minding our own damn business.”

His gaze flickers between her and you, then to Isha in your arms, her little brown bear still clutched to her chest. He hesitates, but the damage is done.

Sevika clicks her tongue. “Tch. C’mon, let’s go,” she mutters, turning on her heel.

Jinx nudges Isha. “Keep the bear, kid. They owe you.”

Isha nods hesitantly, tightening her hold on it as the four of you leave.

Surprise Set up:

A week had passed since that incident, and Sevika had mostly put it out of her mind, believing it to be a thing of the past. Little did she know, while she was busy in Piltover handling her Councilor duties, you and the girls had been hard at work planning a little surprise.

While you baked the cake and prepared the dinner, Jinx was in charge of the decorations and Isha sat at the table, her tongue poking out in concentration as she scribbled on a card.

“Isha! The cake is done cooling, do you wanna help me decorate it?” You called out to her.

There was no verbal response—just the rapid pat-pat-pat of Isha’s little feet racing toward the kitchen. She crashed into your legs at full speed, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Whoa—!” You let out a startled yelp, catching yourself on the counter.

“Slow down, you little tornado. Almost made me drop the cake.” She just nods in understanding before grabbing the stool, the one that was exclusively hers since she was the shortest, and drags it over. 

You leave Isha to do her own little thing, knowing it’ll be messy but heartfelt. With her focused on the cake, you wandered into the living room to check on Jinx’s progress.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Jinx had outdone herself—balloons, streamers, and paper hearts covered the room. Candles flickered on various surfaces, their soft glow giving the space a warm, golden hue.

“You seem to really enjoy this, huh?” You nudge Jinx’s shoulder. She chuckles, admitting, “Yeah, its fun to be asked to spice up a room instead of just vandalizing it.” You grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. “It looks amazing. She’s gonna love it.”

Jinx smirked but looked away, pretending not to care too much. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Once everything was set, you plated dinner and let the girls eat even though Sevika wasn’t home yet. You knew better than to wait—whenever she had meetings, she always came home late.

After dinner, you put on a movie, intending to wait up for her. But before it even reached the halfway mark, the three of you had melted into a sleepy pile on the couch—tangled together in a mess of limbs, warmth, and slow breathing.

Sevika’s Arrival:

The front door creaked open softly. Sevika stepped inside, moving quietly in case you and the girls were already asleep. Sometimes, she found you curled up on the couch, waiting for her with a book in hand.

That was what she’d been hoping for.

Instead, what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Balloons. Candles. Paper hearts covering the walls.

She blinked, wondering if exhaustion was playing tricks on her. But no—it was real.

Slowly, she walked toward the dining table. A full meal sat waiting for her, along with a very wonky-looking cake and a single handmade card.

She already knew whose handiwork the cake was.

With a quiet chuckle, she picked up the card and opened it.

Inside was a drawing—your little makeshift family. Jinx and Isha in the middle, Sevika on the left, you on the right. It was messy, colorful, imperfect, and completely perfect.

At the top, in bold, sloppy handwriting, it read:

Happy Valintinez Day!

Sevika swallowed hard, her chest tightening. Her vision blurred slightly. She hadn’t expected this. Not after the way that stupid Piltover store had turned you all away like you were less. Not after she’d spent years thinking she wasn’t someone people would celebrate, let alone love.

A quiet sniffle escaped her. She tried to muffle it, rubbing at her eyes, but the sound must have woken you.

Blinking groggily, you lifted your head from the couch, scanning the room until your eyes landed on her.

Sevika stood frozen by the table, her back to you, shoulders trembling just slightly.

You nudged the girls off you gently before getting up and walking toward her.

“Hey,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her from behind. “What’s wrong, love? Shitty meeting again?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned around, cupped your face in her hands, and kissed you—soft, slow, and deep.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled, brushing away the stray tears that clung to her lashes. “Oh, you big softie,” you teased, tugging her toward the couch. “C’mere.”

You shifted Jinx and Isha just enough to make space, then pulled Sevika down with you. Isha stirred slightly, snuggling into Sevika’s side while Jinx grumbled in her sleep before draping an arm over both of you.

Sevika sighed, her arms instinctively wrapping around the girls, keeping them close.

“I love you guys so much,” she whispered, like it was something sacred. Something she’d never dared say before.

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting your head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

“We love you too,” you murmured.

Sevika glanced down at the small, sleeping faces tucked against her, at the mess of decorations still scattered around the room. Her heart was full in a way she didn’t think possible.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before letting sleep take her, safe and warm in the only place she’d ever truly belonged.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this T^T. I would've posted this earlier but I had to go to work lol

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY POOKS <3

[maxdibert]

Personal view, as someone who grew up in an abusive environment and is hyper-reactive to seeing children in distress or being mistreated by adults, including in fictional depictions, I never felt the kids in Harry Potter were in any danger from Snape. He’s bitchy and snarky, yes. But no more so than other teachers in Hogwarts. And from what I’ve experienced in the fandom, a lot of Snape fans are abuse survivors in some shape or form. He’s a complex character, and unlike a lot of fictional abuse survivors, he can actually be angry and rage. It’s very cathartic for people who have had to mask and suppress their negative emotions in real life.

It's curious how most Severus fans tend to be survivors of bullying or people who see themselves reflected in him because they went through similar experiences in school, or people who have experienced violence at home. Meanwhile, the haters are simply kids who have a terrible teacher and project that onto Snape, so they hate him.

If we're going to play the "I had terrible teachers, so I know how it feels" card, then I can use that too. Not only did I have terrible teachers—so bad that what they did was absolutely reportable and punishable—but in university, I even had professors who LITERALLY made students cry with their critiques. And yes, I’m very angry with those teachers. Even though I wasn’t always a direct victim, thinking about the teachers from my old school fills me with rage. And yes, whenever I’ve run into some of them on the street, I’ve made sure to say something to them in a super passive-aggressive way.

But the thing is, I don’t see any of them in Severus. Not a single one.

Severus has always reminded me of a literature teacher I had in my last years of school. He was a guy who taught classes to make some money while finishing his university doctorate—clearly, his goal was to be a researcher or teach at a university level. And you could tell from a mile away that he HATED having to teach teenagers. But hey, the school paycheck was good, right? I’m not going to blame him for that. The thing is, he had a degree in Philosophy and Literature and had a level way above that of a regular high school teacher.

I remember he was young. At the time, he seemed like an old man to me because when you're 16, anyone over 20 seems ancient, but he probably wasn’t even 35 yet. The thing is, he had no patience for nonsense. He hated childish antics in class, got annoyed by dumb questions, and if he explained something and someone asked the exact same thing two minutes later, he would clearly get irritated. I remember once a kid told him he had just read the latest Dan Brown novel, and this guy, with the most cunty smirk, said, "Well, I wouldn't know about that, Mr. X. I don't read mass-market literature." And it was like… lol why so mean? But I found it hilarious.

He was the only teacher who called us by our last names and never used informal speech, which was shocking to us because it never happened with other teachers. He rarely attended staff meetings or team dinners (a teacher who was actually abusive and spent entire classes physically humiliating 15-year-olds used to complain about that a lot). You almost never saw him interacting with other teachers because, honestly, I’ve always had the feeling that he thought his colleagues were idiots—and I don’t blame him. If I worked with that bunch today, I’d think they were idiots too.

Now, this guy was strict. Very strict. If you got a 4.9, he wasn’t giving you a 5, because you didn’t get a 5. He wasn’t going to be nice to you unless he thought it was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to be warm, he wasn’t going to be friendly, he wasn’t going to be funny. He despised mainstream literature and bestsellers, believed certain books were absolute garbage, and thought people who only read that kind of stuff didn’t actually understand literature and lacked the braincells for it. You could agree or disagree with him, but his behavior wasn’t abusive.

Was he sometimes too blunt? Did he have incredibly sharp, sometimes unpleasant responses? Yes. And, funnily enough, this teacher was widely disliked precisely because he was one of the strictest ones. He was hated even more than the guy who groped female students or the one who called kids fat, gave them weight-loss tips, and told girls they dressed like prostitutes if they wore certain tops. But those guys used informal speech, gave you a 5 if you got a 4.6, and weren’t that strict, so people didn’t hate them as much.

That’s why Severus always reminded me of this guy. Ironically, I really liked him because I appreciated his sardonic, sharp humor, and he appreciated that I had read One Hundred Years of Solitude at 12 lol. But above all, he liked that, even though I never paid attention in his classes because I physically couldn’t focus on a lecture for more than 10 minutes, I never disrupted anything. I never got caught talking, never caused trouble—I was just drawing my stuff or reading things unrelated to the lesson, but I wasn’t bothering anyone.

And honestly, I think that’s all Severus wanted from his students: for them not to be a pain in his ass. And if he was an even bigger jerk to some, it was precisely because they got on his nerves the most.

The Weasley twins were total chaos and constantly acting like fools, yet they never have a bad word to say about Snape throughout the saga besides that he was kinda mean sometimes. Why is that? Maybe because they didn’t put the whole class in danger? Maybe because, while they were insufferable in the hallways, they knew they had to tone it down in Potions?

Only two people have a real problem with Severus as a teacher throughout the saga: one is Harry, who disrespects him from day one, constantly challenges him, talks back, breaks the rules, and does exactly the opposite of what Severus tells him. The other is Neville, who basically exists to give Severus seven consecutive nervous breakdowns in a single class.

That doesn’t make you an abuser—it makes you an adult who is sick to death of two pain-in-the-ass kids.

[asthedeathoflight]

Hey guys its been a while and i really missed the blorbos so heres a fic from my drafts I've been sitting on for. A long time.

- - -

“I’m gonna go smoke.”

The silence still hangs in the air. The silence into which someone could have - but didn’t - say Ajax’s name. It’s been like this since That Night. The specter of Ajax haunting the conversation, Rembrandt pulling on her boots and zipping up her jacket and out the door again. It’s been weeks, and all Mercy has managed to learn about the Warriors’ tagger is that, based on the look Cleon gives her each time - half pleading, half disappointed - before That Night she had been trying to quit. She’s not trying now.

“Wait up! I’ll come with you.”

Swan shoots her a concerned look as Mercy pushes herself off the couch. It’s a don’t-do-anything-stupid kind of look. Mercy smiles her winningest and most reassuring smile back at her and hurries after where Rembrandt is pointedly not waiting for her.

Mercy catches up to her in the hallway, halfway to the stairs to the roof. It’s cold. Mercy didn’t grab a sweater. Rembrandt is wearing an oversized hoodie that Swan had mentioned in a late-night impassioned rant was actually Ajax’s.

So that’s the second thing Mercy knows about Rembrandt: that she smokes in Ajax’s jacket. Spite, Swan had called it. Ajax was never going to get the smell out, and she liked that jacket. Mercy isn’t so sure.

Rembrandt doesn’t shut the door to the stairs in Mercy’s face, which Mercy counts as basically an invitation. This is progress. The last few times Mercy has tried this, Rembrandt had turned a corner and vanished into thin air. The fact that Mercy can hear her footsteps in the stairwell - even if she’s taking them two at a time and quickly outpacing Mercy - means Mercy is getting through to her. Probably. Hopefully.

At the top of the stairs, Rembrandt is holding the door open. This, too, is progress. Mercy hasn’t figured out how to jimmy it yet, even though Swan has demonstrated the trick to her a few times. There’s a stormy look on Rembrandt’s face, like she’s considering letting it swing shut before Mercy gets there, but she keeps holding it open until Mercy’s made it through. They’ll be the best of friends in no time.

Rembrandt leans up against the railing, lighting a cigarette from the pack she keeps in the pocket of the hoodie. (This, Mercy has heard from Swan, too. Ajax was always throwing out Rembrandt’s cigarettes, Swan said. Nobody has been brave enough to start doing it in her absence.) She takes a long drag, and seems to deflate slightly on the exhale. Wordlessly, she holds the carton and lighter out to Mercy.

“Thanks,” Mercy says as she lights up. “For waiting for me.”

Rembrandt shrugs. “Did I have a choice?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re not gonna quit followin’ me.”

True. Mercy suppresses a smile as she blows out smoke. “Still. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Me being here.”

Understatement of the century. Rembrandt narrows her eyes.

“And with Ajax-” Mercy understands why the others let the silence hang. Rembrandt kind of perks up when she says Ajax’s name, like a hunting dog that’s scented prey.

“What about Ajax?”

“Nothing! I just thought it might help, you know. Talking.”

Rembrandt is silent for a long time. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno, I just- I know about the others but I don’t know anything about the two of you. I thought you might like talking about her. The two of you are so… different.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Mercy can tell as soon as she’s said it. Something in Rembrandt’s expression shutters, goes dark.

“Different,” she echoes.

“I just thought you might-”

“Might fuckin’ what? Might wanna gossip with you while she’s away? Tell you all her secrets so when she comes back you can think you know everything you need to know about her?”

Mercy is momentarily stunned into silence. Rembrandt looks between them in disgust.

“What, because we’re the fucking girlfriends?” she spits. “This isn’t the Orphans, Mercy. I’m a Warrior. I’m not gonna talk about my crew behind their backs just ‘cause you’ve got some idea that me and you are on a team.”

They are on a team. They should be on a team. That’s what it means to be a Warrior. From the way she’d said girlfriends, Mercy doesn’t think Rembrandt totally agrees.

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re not sorry,” Rembrandt scoffs, “You got caught.”

“Don’t I have a right to want to know about the people in my crew? I’m just curious, that’s all!”

“And I’m tellin’ you I got nothing to say! You wanna know so bad, go ask Swan!”

Mercy has asked Swan. In her more peaceful moments, Swan can be cajoled into telling Mercy stories about the Warriors, Before. Mercy has heard the stories of Swan and Cowgirl’s initiations, how Cochise and Cleon met, even a few small snippets about Fox before Swan’s voice fails her. But every time Mercy tries to bring up Ajax or Rembrandt, Swan just gets sad. They’d been together awhile, is what Mercy had gotten out of her. It was good that they were together. The unspoken corollary: it’s bad that they’re apart.

“I just wanted to get to know you better, you don’t have to defend her from me-”

“Of course I do! God, why doesn’t anybody get that?” As Rembrandt raises her voice, there’s a growing edge of desperation to it. “I chose her. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t-”

“Everyone always thinks if they want to know about Ajax they should come ask me. Like I’m not-” Rembrandt cuts herself off in frustration. “I’m not gonna sit here and gossip with you like I’m not on her side. I’m always on her side. I don’t know why everyone acts like that’s surprising.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much she means to you.”

Rembrandt laughs humorlessly. “You have no idea. You’ve been with Swan what, a month? I’ve been with Ajax for seven years.” Rembrandt’s voice breaks. She has to take a breath before she can keep talking. “Do you remember what you were doing seven years ago? Where you were? Who you were with? I do. I was with Ajax. And I’m still-”

Her voice fails her. Mercy doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s not fair,” Rembrandt says, much quieter. “Nobody gets it.”

Mercy tries to remember junior high, imagine her homeroom crush still standing next to her after all these years. Tries to imagine her and Swan, close to thirty. Rembrandt is right. She can’t do it.

They’re quiet for a long time. After a few minutes, Rembrandt sighs.

“We’re not different, you know,” she mutters. “Everyone is always sayin’ that, but it’s not true.”

Mercy raises her eyebrows wordlessly.

Rembrandt scoffs. “Everybody thinks we’re polar opposites just ‘cause I get scared and she gets angry. But it’s not true. They just don’t… I don’t think they really see her.”

Mercy knows what that’s like. She lives with that every day, walking down the street with Swan, knowing that whatever the passersby are seeing, it pales in comparison to the real thing. She can’t imagine it coming from her own crew.

“Of course we act different,” Rembrandt says darkly, “Everyone fuckin’ treats us different all the time. Even when we’re the same. If I don’t wanna look people in the eye I’m just shy, but Ajax is disrespectful. If I can’t sit still I’m nervous, but she’s not paying attention. Everyone treats her like she’s doing something wrong just for existing. It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” Mercy says, and she really means it, but Rembrandt isn’t having it.

“How can you be sorry? You don’t know her. You got to see her for a few hours when she was scared out of her mind. You don’t know me. You just won’t stop fucking following me because you can’t take a hint.”

“I’m-”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Rembrandt asks. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because my girlfriend’s in love with you!” It’s not what Mercy means to say. But it’s the truth. She’s not blind. She’d seen it That Night too, for just a second, the hurt that flashed over Swan’s face when she looked at Ajax and Rembrandt, curled into each other’s space on the subway. She’d thought maybe she was imagining it. But whenever Mercy looks at Swan, Swan is looking at Rembrandt. Talking about her jacket and her smoking habits and her houseplants in the middle of the night. Rembrandt has to know. She’s not stupid. Mercy likes Swan, but Rembrandt is going to be alone for a long time. She knows how her odds stack up if Rembrandt gets tired of waiting.

But Rembrandt is just looking at her, a little bit confused. She makes a little “hah” sound of disbelief, and it bubbles up and over over until she’s got her head thrown back, laughing. It’s not mean. She sounds genuinely amused. And, the thing is, it’s not like Mercy can’t see it. Especially right now, with the halo of gold in her hair from the streetlights. Rembrandt has always been beautiful in a kind of gloomy, morose way, but for a second Mercy can see what she must have been like, Before. So, like. She gets it.

Rembrandt leans back heavily against the railing, subsiding into giggles. “Oh my god,” she says, half to herself, “Oh my god, no wonder you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not-”

“It’s Ajax,” Rembrandt interrupts her, still smiling. Has Mercy ever seen her smile? She doesn’t think so. “Swan is in love with Ajax.”

Mercy’s look of disbelief sets Rembrandt off giggling again. “Of course you don’t know. Who would have told you? Hi, new girl. Have we mentioned your girlfriend is in love with somebody else? No, no, don’t worry about it. It’s old news.”

“How are you so… casual? About this?” Mercy knows she doesn’t have much of a right to get jealous after only a few weeks, but she can’t imagine ever laughing about something like this.

Rembrandt gets a little bit more serious looking at Mercy’s face. “Seven years, remember?” she says, a little softer, “I’ve always known. At the beginning, maybe, I thought she’d get over it, but-” She shrugs. “Swan isn’t built like that. She just grew around it.”

“Doesn’t that… worry you?”

Rembrandt looks at her in equal bemusement. “Worry about what?”

“Ajax changing her mind.”

Rembrandt blinks. “Ajax doesn’t do that. Besides, she and Swan- they were never gonna work out. Even before I met them. Ajax can’t love anyone who won’t run. Swan’s not a runner.”

And Mercy remembers, suddenly, that moment in the park when everything went wrong. Swan, rooted to the ground, not even looking at where Rembrandt and the others were fleeing. The way Mercy had needed to drag her away.

“Ajax needs someone who would leave her behind,” Rembrandt says simply. “And I would, and I did. No point getting poetic about it.”

“You had no choice,” Mercy says.

“Sure I did,” Rembrandt says, “I made the choice Ajax needed me to be able to make.”

“That’s morbid.”

“It’s just the truth.” She pauses, looking at Mercy like maybe she’s seeing her for the first time. “You’re not a runner, either. I can see why Swan likes you. You’re a lot like her.”

“Really?”

Rembrandt rolls her eyes. “Don’t sound so excited.”

[charliedawn]

HUNT THE FREAK

Eddie Munson x Teacher!Reader

Part 4

You were grading papers at the bench you had first met Eddie when you felt someone watching you. Glancing up, you found Eddie sitting there in front of you, an easy smirk on his lips and—was that your sandwich ?!

You blinked. “Are you seriously eating my lunch right now, Mister Munson ?”

Eddie took a huge bite, groaning dramatically. “Mmm, man. This ? This is art. You sure you’re in the right profession ? ‘Cause I think you might’ve missed your true calling.”

You stared at him. He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “If you wanted a sandwich, you could’ve just asked. I would have made two.”

You then looked back down at the papers you were grading and shook your head.

“Oh, I know,” he said through another bite. “But where’s the fun in that ?”

You exhaled, putting down your pen. “Eddie. Why are you really here ?”

He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Well, I figured since you haven’t ratted me out yet about the drug stuff, you’re either the coolest teacher I’ve ever met or you’re really bad at your job.”

You gave him a deadpan look. He held up his hands and chuckled.

“Kidding ! Kidding. You’re great. Phenomenal, even.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And ?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the table. Then, with an uncharacteristically sheepish look, he muttered, “I might need help with, uh…English, and Philosophy, and Maths…and actually—everything ?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mister Munson. Are you asking me for tutoring ?”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t make it a whole thing, teach. You don’t have to. Just wanted to shoot my shot…just in case.”

You stared at him for a moment before a slow smile crept onto your face. “Alright, Eddie,” you said, leaning back. “I’ll help you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wait—really ?”

You nodded. "Yes. How about we start tonight after school ? I will help you with English, Philosophy and History. However, we will need other people to tutor you in scientific subjects and sports."

He raised an eyebrow and a smile extended across his face. "Tonight ? Damn, you really want to get started immediately, huh ? I thought we’d start all that next week or something. And uh…I dunno of any smarty-pants my age who’d wanna help with the nerdy subjects. Definitely no one I know who’s good at sports, though."

You started thinking about it. "…We need someone who is notoriously good at sports. Do you know anyone who might want to help you ? I mean…I would ask Jason, but I am not sure you two are on very good terms."

The mention of Jason immediately made Eddie scoff and roll his eyes. "Yeah, me and the king of Hawkins High ain’t exactly best buddies, so I’d rather not ask him. He’d probably tell me to piss off."

He thought about it for a few seconds, trying to think of someone who could help with sports before he seemed to find a name. "…Maybe Lucas Sinclair ? I’ve seen him play basketball, he’s pretty good—"

You smiled. "Great. And I guess I might ask Mrs. Kelly Schmidt for the scientific subjects. She is retired, but as she is my aunt—I might ask her for her help."

He nodded once, taking note of the names. "Lucas Sinclair, Mrs. Kelly Schmidt. They sound like a good choice. But…I gotta warn you. I’ve probably missed so much stuff that it’s gonna be like starting from scratch. Can’t promise you I’ll learn everythin’ as quickly as you hope. I’m gonna be pretty slow…if you could even call it learning. I doubt I’ll even be able to learn anything at all."

You took his hand. "Mister Munson. You will succeed. I promise."

He had to fight back the urge to smile as you grabbed his hand. The moment felt…weird, but also nice. He’d honestly never had anyone support him so much like you did. He wasn’t used to it, but he kinda…liked it. He nodded at your words, trying to keep his cool. "I sure hope so, teach. I don’t wanna disappoint you."

You smiled. "You won’t."

He wasn’t completely convinced, but your words somewhat reassured him. He wasn’t used to having anyone have such blind optimism towards him. But for some reason, he believed that you’d be right, that he’d actually succeed.

He nodded. "…Alright, I’ll trust you. So…English, Maths and Sports. Those are my worst subjects, anyway."

You nodded and smiled. "So…see you tonight at the library at 5:30 pm, Mister Munson ?"

He smiled back and nodded. “Sure. Library, 5:30. I’ll be there. See ya later, teach.”

You nodded back. "Well, run along now."

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’.” He stood up and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He put down the sandwich to leave, but couldn’t help but turn back around to look at you one last time.

“Hey, teach…”

You looked at him. "Yes, Mister Munson ?"

He hesitated before saying. “I just…wanna say thanks. Y’know, for putting so much effort into all this. Never had a teacher so invested in me and my education like you are. It, uh…it means a lot.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you nodded. "Thank you for your kind words, Mister Munson. I will see you tonight."

He nodded once, a small smile on his face. “Yeah. See you then, teach.”

With that, he finally headed out of the class, disappearing into the hallway. Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight before your smile faltered slightly. You sighed before getting rubbing your eyelids. And just like that, your life at Hawkins High got a whole lot more interesting.

…

That night, at exactly 5:30 PM, you sat at a table in the Hawkins High library, a neat stack of books in front of you. You glanced at the clock, half-expecting Eddie to be late—or not show up at all. But, to your surprise, at 5:29 PM, the library doors swung open, and in strolled Eddie Munson, looking a little out of place but determined.

He dropped his bag onto the chair opposite you, flopping into it dramatically. "Alright, teach. Hit me with your best shot. Let’s see if this brain of mine can actually hold onto something that isn’t song lyrics or D&D rules."

You smiled, handing him a notebook. "Let’s see where you’re at, and then we’ll go from there."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Alright, but if I start crying, you better pretend not to notice."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No promises, Munson. Now, let’s get started."

And with that, the tutoring sessions began.

“Now, is there anything in particular you’d like to start with ?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I’m failing everything, so it doesn’t matter where we start. It’s all the same.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in your eyes, but you quickly pushed it aside, offering him a reassuring smile.

“That’s perfectly fine. How about we start with English ? You read Of Mice and Men. What did you think ?”

Eddie slumped slightly, considering the question.

“It was…good,” he admitted. “A lot of the fancy writing stuff went over my head, but I liked the story. It was real sad, though—all that stuff with Lennie and…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “Didn’t like the ending.”

You nodded, leaning forward. “That’s fair. What about it didn’t sit right with you ?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It just felt hopeless. I know that’s the point, but I hated how it all ended like that. What’s the point of fighting for something if it’s just gonna blow up in your face ?”

You studied him for a moment. “So, you think George and Lennie deserved a happy ending ?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said without hesitation. “They went through all that crap together. They were the only ones who really had each other, y’know ? They deserved better. They didn’t deserve to end like everyone else.”

You caught onto something in his voice—something bitter, something personal. You smiled and tilted your head quizzically at him.

“...Like everyone else ?” you asked gently.

A dry scoff left his lips. “Yeah. ‘Cause let’s be real—how often does anyone actually get a happy ending ? People either fail, get left behind, or end up alone. It’s all just—” He gestured vaguely. “Empty.”

You hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a dark turn, but you could work with that. You knew that Eddie had been raised by his uncle and that it made him lonely to some extent. He thought happy endings didn’t exist—and who could blame him ?

“I don’t think it was about the end,” you said carefully. “I think it was about the dream itself. About hope.”

Eddie frowned. “Hope ?”

He eyed you skeptically, arms tightening over his chest.

“How does hope matter if everything just ends in failure and disappointment ?”

You shook your head.

“Not all dreams end badly,” you said softly. “George’s stories gave Lennie something to hold onto. Something to believe in. And even in the end, George made sure Lennie died thinking about that dream—about their little house, the rabbits, a future where he belonged.”

Eddie’s expression flickered, just for a second, before he masked it again.

“I guess…” he muttered. “Still sucks, though. Would’ve been better if they actually got their happy ending.”

You smiled, though there was sadness in it.

“But would it have felt real ?” you asked. “Steinbeck wrote about people fighting for something, even when the odds were against them. That’s why it resonates with so many people. Because even if their dream didn’t come true, Lennie believed in it until the very end. And that belief made him happy.”

Eddie was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he huffed a small, reluctant laugh.

“You make it sound way deeper than I did.”

You grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Eddie sat in silence for a moment, mulling it over. A part of him still felt like the whole thing was cruel—like the writer had dangled hope in front of people just to rip it away at the last second. But at the same time…he got what you were saying. And, if he was being honest, you had a point. Lenny died happy. George was sad to have to kill him but…Lenny died happy."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before nodding.

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right, teach. It’s just—” He exhaled sharply. “It’s just sad, y’know ?”

You nodded, your voice soft.

“It is. It’s heartbreaking. But think about it—two men, poor, unemployed, one with a disability, fighting on until the very end because of that dream. That little ranch, the rabbits, that life they believed they could have.” You smiled, though there was sorrow in it. “That’s beautiful.”

Eddie considered that. And, yeah…he couldn’t deny it. George and Lennie had held onto hope for as long as they could, even when the world gave them every reason to let go.

He hesitated, debating whether to say what was on his mind.

“…Miss G ?”

You raised an eyebrow at the nickname but played along. He had already called you that before and you didn’t want to correct him. He seemed to have grown attached to the nickname.

“Yes, Mister Munson ?”

He took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if he even wanted to ask. But the words were already forming, and something about talking to you—someone who actually listened—made him feel like maybe he should.

“Be honest with me, teach…Do you think people can actually make their dreams come true ? Their hopes, their wishes…?” His voice trailed off, eyes dropping to the table. “That it’s not just…y’know…”

You rested your chin on your palm, offering him a small, knowing smile.

“Well…I think it depends. On the person. And the dream.” Your gaze softened. “You do have a dream, don’t you Mister Munson ?”

He nodded, slow and hesitant. It felt strange to even admit it out loud—only his uncle really knew. He never talked about it with anyone else, never gave them the chance to shoot it down. But for some reason, right now…he wanted you to know. He had given you his essay, but maybe talking about it would help.

He swallowed hard, fingers tapping restlessly against the table.

“It—it’s kinda stupid,” he muttered. “Not like it’ll ever actually happen, but…” He took a breath, steeling himself. “I wanna make it big. Be a star. Play to sold-out crowds, have people actually pay to see me. And my band—Corroded Coffin.”

The words hung in the air between you. You listen attentively. And for once, Eddie Munson wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear someone else’s opinion—or if he was terrified of it.

You sat in silence for a moment, studying him.

“Do you want my honest opinion, Eddie ?”

His stomach twisted slightly as he nodded, bracing himself. He fully expected you to laugh, to tell him it was a foolish dream, that guys like him didn’t make it out of places like Hawkins. But then you smiled.

“I believe you’ll make it. I believe you’ll graduate. I believe you’ll leave Hawkins. And I believe I’ll be holding the very first ticket to Corroded Coffin’s first real concert.”

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped. Of all the responses he’d imagined, that one hadn’t even crossed his mind. He stared at you, wide-eyed, struggling to process what you’d just said. For a few seconds, he was completely speechless.

Then, finally, he managed to snap out of it.

“You—wait, what ? Are you serious, teach ?”

You chuckled.

“Did I stutter, Mister Munson ?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish.

“Uh…no, guess you didn’t. But do you really think I can make it ? Really ? With Corroded Coffin?”

Your smile softened.

“Well, I don’t know much about metal—or Corroded Coffin, for that matters—but yes, Eddie. I believe in you. And I believe that, given time, you’re capable of great things.”

Eddie was stunned for a moment before a wide grin crept onto his face. A warm sense of pride swelled in his chest. Someone believing in him—truly, wholeheartedly believing—almost too good to be true. He suddenly wanted to give you a high-five, maybe even a hug, just for saying that. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt this way.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he absentmindedly toyed with one of his rings.

“Damn, teach…if you keep saying stuff like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me or somethin’…”

Your amused expression immediately flattened into something unimpressed.

“Mister Munson. Please. Do not be ridiculous. Now, let’s focus back on Of Mice and Men before I start getting gray hair from this.”

Eddie let out another chuckle, nodding.

“Relax, teach, relax…I’m only kiddin’. But yeah, yeah, Of Mice and Men, right…”

He glanced down at his open book, pretending to study it for a few moments before snickering to himself.

“But y’know…I just know you’d look real good with gray hair. I can see it now—” A slow smirk spread across his face as he imagined it: you, years from now, shaking your head at him, strands of gray streaking through your hair, all because of the stress of helping him graduate.

You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Mister Munson. Book.”

His grin widened at your reaction, but he nodded, flipping through the pages.

“Right, right, book. Got it…”

You shook your head with a small smile before resuming the lesson. You then went over some key elements for the tests and you explained to him some key moments in history—trying to make him remember the dates and the places. He took notes and smiled. It wasn’t bad. Once it was over, you stood up, gathering your things.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Munson. Try to rest. And maybe—maybe—attend all your classes ?”

Eddie stood as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. No promises, though—there’s only so much chemistry a human brain can take in one day, y’know ?”

As he gathered his stuff, he glanced at the door, then back at you. That familiar, mischievous grin returned.

“Hey, teach ?”

You turned as you walked toward the library doors.

“Yes, Mister Munson ?”

He trailed behind, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As you both stepped into the hallway, he leaned down slightly, voice lowering to a playful murmur near your ear.

“Can I ask ya somethin’ real quick ? Just a lil’ thing I wanna know.”

You arched an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“You are full of questions, aren’t you ? Too bad they’re rarely about the curriculum.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, teach…not every question has to be about school.” That signature smirk of his grew as he tilted his head, eyeing you with that teasing glint in his gaze. “This one’s not, by the way. Just one quick question. Pretty please ?”

You sighed, already sensing trouble, but humored him anyway as you both walked down the empty corridor toward the exit.

“One.”

A triumphant grin spread across Eddie’s face as he stepped just a little closer, clearly enjoying this little game.

“Alright then…This one’s real easy. Just a fun little question…”

He paused when you reached the entrance, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked onto yours with unmistakable amusement.

“Do you…have a boyfriend, by any chance ? A husband ? Or a girlfriend ? I am not judging if you do. Just…wondering.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, arching an eyebrow as you looked at him. You blinked. That was definitely unexpected. He seemed to sense your discomfort and quickly added.

“Not to be weird or anything but…I was just wondering if you didn’t have a family to take care of ? Wouldn’t want you to miss on fun family bonding time because you’re tutoring lil’ old me, you know ?”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

"Now…why would you be asking that ? Why do you care, Mister Munson ?"

Eddie shrugged, still leaning lazily against the wall, tilting his head slightly.

“Just…curious.”

With that, he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. That ever-present smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze locked onto yours. His hands remained tucked into the pockets of his jacket, but the way he stood—just a little too close for a casual student-teacher conversation.

You let out a hum and placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

"…Sorry, Mister Munson. But I am not interested in answering that question. It is of an intimate nature. Ask another one—or remain silent."

He let out a small scoff at the push but didn’t resist, allowing himself to be moved back slightly. He shrugged, though the smirk never left his face.

“Come on, Miss G…”

He stayed quiet for a beat, still standing a little too close, before humming under his breath.

“Fine, fine…one other question, then.”

Then, without warning, he took another step forward, closing the distance between you once more. His eyes darkened slightly, that cocky grin growing as he leaned down, just enough to angle himself over you.

“Do you…have any interest in dating someone younger than you, by any chance ?”

You stared at him for a long moment, unimpressed. No shame whatsoever.

"Mister Munson. That is another inappropriate question. Now, I believe it is time for us to go our separate ways. See you tomorrow, in class." And with that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the school.

Eddie sighed, rocking back on his heels as he watched you go. He supposed he’d have to settle for the small bit of fun he’d managed to squeeze out of the moment. But just before you disappeared from view, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called after you, his voice filled with unhidden amusement.

“Alright, teach ! See ya tomorrow—and sweet dreams !”

You simply raised a hand in a wordless wave, never looking back as you got into your car.

He watched as you drove off, his smirk lingering. A small part of him was annoyed that you hadn’t given him a straight answer. But a bigger part of him ? Yeah. He definitely liked messing with you. Besides, it was just mindless teasing. He knew he had no chance whatsoever. He was just curious. Maybe he’d just have to try again another time to have an answer. Chuckling to himself, Eddie shoved his hands back into his pockets and started walking away.

[blossomzip]

realized i could not fit all my screaming in the tags—and because you took the time to compile thirteen poems you deserve screaming for all thirteen of them!! (actually this is highkey incoherent but......hay)

Isn't Every Love Poem an Unfinished Love Poem?, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz — from seungcheol

“praise the caps / of your shoulders, my lips / pressed against them.” is sooooo work song!csc coded and im on my knees. Love that art would stop in its tracks for when it appears. HELP ME. (AND THE WAY THE POEM JUST CUTS OFF W ONE LINE AT THE LAST STANZA LIKE ITS UNFINISHED RAHHHH)

If I Had Three Lives, Sarah Russell — from jeonghan

“to remember what skin feels like / when it’s alive.” quoting kae, is this not yjh!!!! this poem feels like the evil twin of better half, esp: “And I’d wonder sometimes / if I’d ever find you.” (when I come after u kae I too know your govt name and where u live WAG AKO)

True Love, Sharon Olds — from joshua

Again, this feels like ur hozier js fic (worship in the bedroom) (I love the u/ylangelegy cinematic universe!!) oh to love a joshua who is also your best friend, to be so comfortable with all aspects of life, spiritual, carnal, romantic, etc. “I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.” Because this is everything already!! The most blessed time of [his] life!!!! (dont even get me started on the religious implications of that word choice vis a vis christian boy jisoo)

February & my love is in another state, José Olivarez — from junhui

The way this got me gagged from the first line—“when I walk down the street, I hold hands / with the wind.” JUNHUI MY SWEET MAN……. “sky so honey, I could almost taste it.” [wailing] JUNHUIIIII……. jun giving you a poem with “stay with me.” BYE I CANT DO THIS RN. in love & in solitude.....my wen junhui.......

Variations on the Word Love, Margaret Atwood — from soonyoung

Imagine ksy giving u this poem and it’s your first read ,, youre like 😦🙁 at the first half LMAOOO my guy is gonna be like JUST HEAR ME OUT— until u get to the second half. (Then there’s the two / of us.) ;; Ohhhmylord: “this word is not enough but it will / have to do.” “in wonder / and pain, a breath, a finger / grip on a cliffside.” Fall, but not into fear; into love. my ksy who stands tall in the face of fear etc

The Leash, Ada Limón — from wonwoo

a jww x ada limon poetry alignment with “I want to say: Don’t die.” and “Don’t die, I say,” SHOULD BE A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. WHAT DO U MEANNNNN. KAEEE WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!! “Perhaps we are always hurtling our body towards / the thing that will obliterate us, begging for love / from the speeding passage of time” IF JWW GAVE ME THIS POEM I WOULD SOB. oh to love with eyes wide open, to see disaster in the world yet remain tender. (intrusive thought: apocalypse au jww)

You Do Not Have To Love Me, Leonard Cohen — from jihoon

LJH AND LEONARD COHEN DO U WANT ME TO DIEEEEEE. imagine a songwriter gifting you a poem from another songwriter I WANT TO DIE (2). the title alone is so jihoon. “while I am still / the many men who love you” oh my ljh you are both one of a kind and a man of multitudes. “I prayed that you would love me / and that you would not love me” STOP IT RNNN!!!! why is this so in the mood for love coded. 

Watching you talk on the phone, I consider the empty space around atoms–, Rhiannon McGavin — from seokmin

lsm + domestic intimacy in the kitchen. so u want me to pass away. “I am enough / of you to warrant this flavor of intimacy” hit me harder than it had any right to YES YOU ARE ENOUGH OF ME LEE SEOKMIN MY LOVELY SUNSHINE BOY…..the last three lines (YOU’D CREATE ANOTHER UNIVERSE) has me running laps cos when will I get an everyday kind of romance…..bonus: w lee seokmin……..[nurse may baliw po]

O Small Sad Ecstasy of Love, Anne Carson — from mingyu

First of all. KIM MINGYU AND AN ANNE CARSON POEM HAS TO BE A CRIME. “I did a road trip / all over my mind and heart / and / there you were” is so uklg “all journey is return” coded . WITH YOUR LITTLE TOOLKIT / FIXING SOMETHING. Stop It . mingyu being both the clumsy type and one who shows love by acts of service (cooking, cleaning, helping his members etc) ++ THIS. all journey is return and I will find you quietly building and rebuilding and repairing!!!

The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel — from minghao

in my head this is the lost in translation couple coded u cannot argue w me. the title alone?!?!!?!? hao saving his words for his most precious person…I rmr thinking of him as the most mysterious member even at the start so this is just Doing Something for me… being gifted a poem by hao with “I slowly whisper I love you / thirty-two and a third times.” (firm believer that his last word would be YOU—not i or love but YOU!!!! bc u are his love [wails])…… oh my xu minghao you are so dear to me…..your love is as steadfast as the sunrise

A Walk Round the Park, Sandra Lim — from seungkwan

“I laugh, because the pleasure was earned // yet vouchsafed, / and I made room for what was dead past and what // yet didn’t // exist.” MAN. what a line for bsk ,, oh to love and fast forward to the good part, knowing that you have endured the hardships!! “I was not always kind, but I // was clear.” IS SOOOO HIM !!! #1 communicator bsk (who will always try to be kind but will not always succeed, but oh he tries to clarify himself always)

Guilty of Dust, Frank Bidart — from vernon

LISTENNNN i love the thought of Vernon gravitating toward contemporary poetry—esp the more experimental ones in format. AND THIS POEM CHOICEEEEEEE!! kae I love your brain. “forgetful of my very self so often I / desired to die to myself to live in them” is this not chwe vernon coded. the thought of vernon gifting WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE and you are each other’s love (and therefore fate) bye I rly cant do this.

First Date, Megan Williams — from chan

A first date poem for chan are u kidding me. also the imagery of this is reminding me of that one time he was on a show n he met up w and drove (?) a carat as part of a segment and . im not okay. “The bridges in this city are famous & / terrible. My love is too.” + “All my / life, I’ve been pivoting to emptiness.” LEE CHAN GET BEHIND ME…… but the thought of chan gifting you a poem w “I want the warmth of your gaze to / convince me that living is worth the / discomfort.” + “…is a small price to pay for a hand in mine.” is SOOOOO…!!!! love in the every day…to bear discomfort, not to say it disappears with a lover's presence, but simply that discomfort is made worth it.....dont touch me rn.

svt & love poems they'd give you.

★ footnotes: decided to marry the two halves of my heart this valentine's: svt and poetry. this is unashamedly inspired by the brilliant @heartepub, whose constant intersection of svt x poetry inspires me to no end. viv, you are an entire poem in itself; i would give you all the pretty words in the world, if i could. + happy carat day, everyone!

seungcheol ★ Isn't Every Love Poem an Unfinished Love Poem?, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

Praise the caps of your shoulders, my lips pressed against them.

Praise the poem I was trying to finish when you showed up

at my door.

jeonghan ★ If I Had Three Lives, Sarah Russell

If I had three lives, I'd marry you in two. The other? Perhaps that life over there at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing—a memoir, maybe a novel or this poem. […] I'd walk the beach at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks water makes in sand. And I'd wonder sometimes if I'd ever find you.

joshua ★ True Love, Sharon Olds

I quietly call to you and you come and hold my hand and I say I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.

junhui ★ February & my love is in another state, José Olivarez

stay with me. while the sky is still golden, hold the ladder so i can climb, & from the highest rung, i can scrape away a drizzle of light to wear around my neck. alone

is the star i follow. in love & in solitude: alone is the home with the warmest glow.

soonyoung ★ Variations on the Word Love, Margaret Atwood

This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear. this word is not enough but it will have to do.

wonwoo ★ The Leash, Ada Limón

But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing like a rusted-over garage door, and I can still move my living limbs into the world without too much pain, can still marvel at how the dog runs straight toward the pickup trucks break-necking down the road, because she thinks she loves them, because she’s sure, without a doubt, that the loud roaring things will love her back,

jihoon ★ You Do Not Have To Love Me, Leonard Cohen

I wrote all these songs for you I burned red and black candles shaped like a man and a woman I married the smoke of two pyramids of sandalwood I prayed for you I prayed that you would love me and that you would not love me

seokmin ★ Watching you talk on the phone, I consider the empty space around atoms–, Rhiannon McGavin

To make my birthday cake from scratch, you wouldn’t just plant strawberries: you’d create another universe. I wanted you

warm and close as fresh laundry and here we are, Tuesday. Of course you love me, you’re wearing one of my socks.

mingyu ★ O Small Sad Ecstasy of Love, Anne Carson

I did a road trip all over my mind and heart and there you were kneeling by the roadside with your little toolkit fixing something.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

minghao ★ The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel

Late at night, I call my long distance lover, proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond, I know she’s used up all her words, so I slowly whisper I love you thirty-two and a third times.

seungkwan ★ A Walk Round the Park, Sandra Lim

We did not say much to each other but

we grinned, because this love was so good you sucked the

rib bones

and I licked my fingers like a cat.

Now I’m omniscient. I’m going to skip past

the hard

parts that go on for a very long time.

vernon ★ Guilty of Dust, Frank Bidart

the voice in my head said

LOVE IS THE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND WHAT YOU LOVE

WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE

chan ★ First Date, Megan Williams

I want the warmth of your gaze to convince me that living is worth the discomfort. That other people can like me. That the bottlenecked bridge full of squealing tires & suckers who can't merge is a small price to pay for a hand in mine.

[xgoldenlatiasx]

I’m not even gonna apologize you all already know how reincarnation trope makes me feel

[itspileofgoodthings]

idek why but this is Peak Romance(TM)

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

last post for the night i swear

the real tragic part about the whole science fair incident is that perpetual motion is impossible to achieve

ford’s machine would have never worked, regardless of whether or not stan had interacted with it

(warning i accidentally wrote an approximately 30-tag dive into ford’s character in the tags don’t click see more if you don’t want to read that)

anyway!! good night everyone ❤️‍🩹