#I really wanted it to actually be simple but like

[aetheryi]

I… alright. I dont wanna get into an argument about this, particularly with a mutual, but that just doesn’t make any sense. Hear me out, please.

The simple fact that so long as our bullshit 2 party system is still there, there will never be a perfect leftist candidate that has a realistic chance at actually winning. At some point we just need to make concessions and realize democrats are just an easier enemy to fight, nobody thinks they’re our friends, they’re just easier to pressure and wont destroy the country in the meantime. But just, to put that all aside for a moment, what really angered me about what you said is this:

In what way is republicans winning realistically better for us, like in what way does that actually help anyone? It hasn’t helped the Ukrainians at all, in fact their much worse off because of it, doesn’t help the Palestinians any, doesn’t help the countless people now being detained in death camps, and it wont help the countless trans people in america when trumps bullshit study comes out and its used as an excuse to take their hrt away. If we’re really wanting this fascist bullshit to to end, it feels like a lot more of a “losing strategy” to let the shit the republicans are doing slide because the democrats also kinda suck.

op turned off reblogs but i wanted this on my blog so i screenshotted it

[no-144444]

꩜ summary: your past relationship ends and you may or may not get with his rival...

꩜ pairing: ollie bearman x fem! reader

꩜a/n: cheating!

“What the fuck is this?!” you demanded shoving the phone in his face. He couldn’t have- no he wouldn’t have, right? “What the fuck did you do?” 

Pictures. Him. Another girl. Fuck. 

You were in love with him. That was the worst part. You were ready to do everything with him. Ready to give him your all, marriage, kids, growing old together, etc. All that was fucked, thanks to him and his inability to keep it in his pants. 

“Baby, come on, she’s just a friend,” he sleezed, thinking some sweet-talking and a smirk would smooth it all over. Absolutely not. You weren’t letting this go. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all those rumours?”

You did, because you knew they weren’t rumours. “They aren’t rumours, Gabriel, go fuck yourself. Don’t call me again,” you scoffed before walking out of there, for good. 

A few months later, and you were feeling good, better even. Healed, was probably a better word for it, but you didn’t want to label yourself with that just yet, it gave you less of an out when all of the dates you’d been going on have ended terribly. It made it more your fault. You had imposed rules though, 1) no more racing drivers, 2) no more racing drivers. Pretty simple, right? 

“Meet Ollie, please,” Paul begged. Paul Aron was one of the only people in motorsport that you’d kept in contact with. He was sweet, funny, and apparently attempting to set you up with Oliver Bearman. “I don’t date racing drivers,” you shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. The bar he’d dragged you to was some up-market (he was paying), hipster-chic spot that he’d dug out of some instagram travelers ‘best-loved spots’. It was nice. The alcohol wasn’t watery, but the drinks were expensive, and the group of dickhead businessmen that had been gawking at you for the past hour were annoying, but it would do for the night that was in it. You enjoyed the slow jazz playing lowly over the speaker, and the very obvious couple fighting at the table next to yours. 

Paul deflated in front of you, groaning. “Y/n,” he whined. “Come on, he’s super nice!”

“He’s a racing driver, and not only that, he’s in F1. I’d honestly rather get shot repeatedly in my hand with a nail gun,” you scoffed. 

“That’s graphic,” a voice from behind you smirked. You whipped your head around to see him standing right there, Oliver Bearman. The man, the myth, the legend. You face-palmed. 

“Fuck off Paul,” you groaned and a satisfied smile made its way onto his face. 

“I’ll leave you two to chat,” he smirked before getting up, and leaving you beached on a date you didn’t even want to go on. “My card is behind the bar!” he called after himself.

“Hi,” he smiled, sitting across from you. “I’m Ollie.”

“I’m Y/n,” you smiled awkwardly. 

As much as you wouldn't admit it to Paul, you liked Ollie. You liked his floppy hair and soft smile, you liked the way he gave you his full attention and didn’t dare talk over you, you liked how he made you laugh. Shit. You were falling for another racing driver. You groaned as you sat on your bed, Paul beside you. The night was meant to be wine and chatting, but it turned into a bitch session about Gabriel trying to contact you again, and then you ended up talking about Ollie… 

It was difficult not to when the last few months had been filled with going on small date nights, facetime for hours, and generally just being with him. 

“You like him!” he cheered, ecstatic. “I’m Cupid!” 

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “I do not like him, and you are most certainly not cupid.” 

“I so am,” he chuckled, pushing your hand away. “Come on, you like him, go for it! What the fuck is stopping you?” 

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “It’s… weird. He’s really nice and really sweet, but it’s like… a lot right now, alright? I’ve just gotten over Gabi, and now he’s texting me about getting back together again, and Ollie is there too, and I think he really likes me-” “He does,” “And that’s super nice and all, it’s just- yeah. It’s a lot.”

“Maybe you should just give him a chance,” Paul suggested. “Ollie’s going to be nice about it anyway, once you make it clear that you want to move slowly.” 

You huffed. “Why is romance so complicated?”

“Why ask me? I’ve literally never been in a relationship,” he laughed. You laughed. The weight on your shoulders lifted, it always did when you were around Paul. You thought about it for a moment and internally sighed, waving your white flag. 

“Hm,” you hummed after you both calmed down. “Maybe you are Cupid.”

The scream he let out probably could’ve been heard from space. It didn’t bother you much.

Ollie pressed his whole body against yours the second you opened the door to your hotel room. Australia hadn’t been the greatest, China had been good, and Japan had been too, but still, he had begged you to come to Bahrain, citing ‘performance issues’. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tight. Not really knowing what else to do, you hugged him back. He smelt like burnt rubber and his cologne, a pretty regular combo for him. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, pulling away from his chest and looking up at him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He sighed and shook his head, directing your head back to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, though his voice was muffled through your hair. “It was just shit. Fucking P20,” he shook his head, then pulled back, cradling your head in his hands. “You look beautiful though,” he offered a soft smile, and something about it made you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You look beautiful too,” you smiled. He softened slightly, and finally let you go as you led him into your hotel room. “Y’know, you didn’t have to get me another room,” you teased. “I could’ve just roomed with you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat up despite the nights you’d spent in each other's beds, but he chuckled all the same. “Didn’t want to assume.” 

“You’re very good,” you smiled, turning to him. 

“You’re very worth it,” he smiled back, wrapping his arms around your waist once again and pulling you in for another kiss. “Missed you,” he admitted, pulling back. The soft glow of your bedside lamps made his brown eyes look even bigger than they usually were, and you smiled. 

“Missed you too, I guess,” you taunted. He didn’t complain. He just kept looking at you with that same love-sick look. “Sorry I was bad luck.” 

He shook his head. “You’re good luck,” he demanded. “I’m going to get in the points tomorrow just to prove it.”

“You don’t have to make me-”

“I’m not ‘having’ to do anything,” he said, his voice stern but sweet. “I can’t have you believing something untrue, right?” 

“Alright loverboy,” you laughed. “Let's get some rest, yeah? You’re probably exhausted.” 

“Always sleep better next to you,” he admitted and both of you stilled again. You didn’t notice the cars driving past outside, the noises coming from the open balcony door, etc. You just saw Ollie. He just saw you. He was nervous, for some reason. You always made him nervous. There was something about you that he just couldn’t not want to impress. 

You smiled gently. “Well, I’m right here all night.”

He couldn’t argue with that. 

Building up the courage to walk into the paddock again was difficult. Gabi had basically disgraced you, and while that wasn’t your fault at all, it was weird to have the cameras and media label you as ‘Gabi’s ex girlfriend’. You felt the looks of sympathy as you walked in, everyone assumed you’d taken him back despite his scandals, but they were all stunned into silence when you walked into the Haas hospitality, finding a seat beside Thomas, Ollie’s brother. You’d met him once or twice, but Ollie didn’t even know you’d come in. You weren’t totally comfortable doing it yet, but Ollie needed support, and you had no other choice but to be there and show up for him. 

The race was tense, but staying true to his word, Ollie dragged that tractor up into 10th, and scored some more points for Haas. His dad got handed the radio, then Thomas, then you. You didn’t really know what to say, but you did know it would be broadcast to millions of people worldwide. 

“Hey Ollie, well done out there today, love you.”

It slipped out before you knew what you were saying, and you made a terrible realisation that you’d said that live on air. A few eyes turned to you and you genuinely wanted the earth to swallow you up. 

“Oh my god! Y/n! What did you just say?!” he laughed over the radio and you hid your face in your hands, Thomas patting you on the shoulder for moral support. It actually helped a little bit. “I love you too,” he chuckled. “This might be the best race ever!” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and smiled. His dad smiled at you too, pulling you in for a side hug as you both watched the screen turn to Ollie in the car. You chuckled. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Gabi demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “You break up with me, then you move onto my rival?” 

“A) you cheated, B) Ollie is so far above being your rival, you drive a fucking Sauber,” you shot back, hanging up the phone. 

Ollie watched all of this unfold from the comfort of your bed. He laid a hand on your lower back and sighed. “Alright?” 

“I need to kill him,” you sighed, cuddling into his side. “I cannot fucking stand his whole ‘woe is me’ shtick,” you scoffed. “I mean, how many people have the balls to cheat on someone, and then blame them for breaking up with them! It’s fucking insane.” 

“I agree,” he shrugged, wrapping his arms around you. “Not with the murder part though,” he added. 

You chuckled against his neck. “I don’t know, maybe he has a point. Maybe it was kind of shitty to get with his rival-”

“You said it yourself, he’s not my rival,” he shrugged. “He’s driving a Sauber, his biggest rival is his own career choices,” you both laughed out loud at that. “There’s no blood on your hands.” 

Well, maybe there was a little blood on your hands, considering you may or may not have posted some photos with Ollie, with the caption ‘Bounced back and found another, and he hates you’. 

You didn’t really mind.

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

[daegall]

☆ when the candles burn out.

➷ Jeno Lee has everything he's wished for, except for you.

pairing: best friend!jeno x (implied fem!) reader

genre: bff2l!AU (WE R SOOO BACK), birthday!AU, university!AU, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none, but feel free to lmk if you find any

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: happies birthday to the (officially titled!) birthday boyyy!!! wishing him the very very best and hope that he knows we're so proud of him and love him sooo much!!!! I've missed writing sm so this was soo fun to make!! sorry if i've been super inactive, i've still got a lot to do before graduation ♡ i hope you all enjoy!!!

If he was asked, Jeno would say his life is very fulfilling, and that he's completely satisfied with it. How could he say any differently? He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends and a steady side job to support himself. He shouldn't be complaining.

But he's lying to himself. He knows he feels empty inside. And he knows what could fill that void.

It's you.

Jeno always felt he was missing something—he figured he would fix it later in life. He never knew it would hurt this much, he never knew it would be this hard to fix it. Frankly, he wishes it was something else that would be the glue to fix everything in his life.

It's not that Jeno hated you, no, he loved you. So dearly—he's never ever felt anything so intense in his life. Every time he looked at you, it was like he was reading his favorite book, unable to peel his eyes off the pages. Every time he heard your voice, it was like listening to the soft chirping of birds in the morning—the breeze in the afternoon—the comforting sounds of the bustling city in the evening. And when you touched him, a hug, or even something as simple as a high-five, it's as if you're a fireplace in winter, keeping him warm, inside and out.

God, he wanted you. Bad. Jeno never know one could yearn so deeply. He was never one good with words, but you make him want to write thousands of poems and sing melodies dedicated just to you.

The echoing questions that all his friends constantly ask him haunt him.

'Why don't you tell her?'

'She doesn't know yet?'

'What's the worst that could happen?'

'Why are you so scared?'

That's what Donghyuck always asks him. Jeno can't begin to tell him, he doesn't know where to start, Donghyuck wouldn't understand the turmoil he feels.

Jeno's scared that he's not what you expect. That you have a completely different vision of him than who he actually is. Jeno thinks you need someone who is able to love you loudly, who isn't afraid to give you everything that you not only need, but want, too. Jeno is sure that he's not your ideal man.

Today's his birthday. 25th. He knows because Jaemin greets him the very first this morning, calling him 'halfway-50 year old'. Jeno only rolls his eyes at his usual strange antics, pushing him out of the way of the fridge to grab his yogurt from the fridge.

When Jeno checks his phone, he realizes that Jaemin isn't the first one to say happy birthday. He finds out with a mouthful of yogurt, and a heart full of love, that it was you. On April 23, military time 00:12, you left a long paragraph wishing him a happy birthday, thanking him for everything and for being a great friend, and wishes of love and luck.

"Friends don't send birthday messages that long."

Jeno barely catches on that Jaemin is shamelessly peeking at his phone, throwing him a pointed look. "Maybe she does."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise—a deadpanned look. "She sent me a sentence on my birthday. At 5pm."

"That's cause you gifted her a giftcard for her birthday."

"That's what friends do!" Jaemin retorts. "You gifted her animal crossing—that shit's expensive!"

Jeno has to admit, he's right. About one thing. Friends don't send an essay's worth of a birthday message.

Okay, yeah, saving up for animal crossing for you took some time, but Jeno would do anything for you. And he means everything.

Like meeting up at your place for a birthday celebration with others. He would much rather spend it with only you, but that doesn't seem to be an option, considering how you love to make a huge deal about his birthday every year.

Now here he stands, at your door, knowing full well that you've planned some 'surprise' party. Despite that, he'll still pretend to be shocked—just to make you happy.

Jeno only needs to wait about 3 seconds right after he knocks, before the door swings open, the music inside finally distinguishable and—oh, it's... you. Just you.

Nobody else is seen behind you in your apartment, the familiar living area he recognizes so easily dimmed with a low, warm light, the walls filled with handing streamers of red and green—his favorite colors.

Jeno's heart has never swelled this much with love, his head has never been so clear and unbelievably messy at the same time, his practiced surprised smile completely fading in an expression of shock, his jaw hanging lightly.

"Hello, birthday boy," You grin. God, Jeno might kiss you.

The way you can't seem to stay still in excitement, the anticipation on your face and the way you wear his sweater, something he's definitely left accidentally somewhere inside there—he adores it all.

He never thought his feelings could get even more eager and heartfelt, and yet here he is, feeling it tenfold right in his heart.

"Come in," You smile, grabbing and tugging at his sleeve gently.

You want to laugh at his surprised expression, your excited smile falling shy. "Surprise! I bet you thought it was like all the surprise parties I hosted, huh?"

Jeno should have seen it coming. The fact that you saw through him almost immediately. A soft huff of a laugh leaves his lips as he nods, growing more comfortable as he ventures deeper into the surprise. His eyes trail over the streamers reflecting the warm light from your lamp, his gratitude growing almost unbearable.

Finally, his eyes land on the cake. Unlike the usual ordered or store-bought cake you make Mark Lee get every year for the party, it's sloppy, and it's clear that you made it yourself. The icing barely covers the full surface of the cake, leaving blank, splotchy spots along the cake.

"I tried my best," You comment, noticing his gaze on your cake. You really did, practicing some nights and watching multiple videos to find the best recipe to use.

Jeno grins even more his gaze shifting to you. If you weren't mistaken... he looks at you differently. Well, he looks at you as he always does, with a twinkle in his eyes and with utmost attentiveness, but tonight... it's different.

You think—and this is a big assumption—that he's looking at you with love. You could only dream that he would admit it.

"I love it," He reassures, slowly approaching you. "thank you, Y/N, I love everything about this."

Your cheeks feel sore from all the smiling, but you can't seem to stop smiling, pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. "I'm glad. You deserve the best, Jeno."

Jeno holds you tight, his nose burying into the depths of your hair, eyes shutting to savor the moment as long as possible. His hands are warm, you can feel it through his sweater that you wear, one hand on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades.

It's as if his hands have burnt through the fabric, because you feel every single movement his hands make. The way his thumbs rub gently up and down—the way his palms tensing up as he holds you closer—this feels better than it should.

When you pull away, the warmth finds it's way to your heart, beating faster suddenly and soaring, as if it was searching for his own to entangle in.

When you lead him to the couch to finally blow out the candles (with he candles now about a third of it's original height), Jeno has never felt happier, leaning in close to the cake.

He laughs when you suddenly panic, halting him to search for your camera.

"Why do you even need to film this?" He chuckles softly, it's a rich sound you find yourself enjoying more than you should.

You roll your eyes, finding the camera on your messy study desk, hidden behind a stack of books you never seem to finish reading. "To remember this! I want to look back on this when I'm eighty and reminisce like a stubborn old lady."

When Jeno blows out his candles after an awkward minute of you singing him 'happy birthday' by yourself, he finds himself wishing that you'd be a stubborn old lady with him. He wishes with his whole heart that he'd be there, reminiscing with you, that'd your grandchildren would be gagging at your love story, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Jeno gives you the first slice of the cake, despite your protests, handing it to you with a stern look. His heart melts when you take it from his hands, a small playful scowl on your lips. "I wanted you to taste it first..."

"Fine," He sighs, picking up the two forks you prepared. "we'll eat it together, yeah?"

Jeno dismisses your objections, already stabbing the forks into the cake and scooping it up. He laughs heartily when your words die in your throat, offering the fork to you.

You stare at the piece of cake on your fork with intent. "If it tastes like shit, I'm sorry,"

Even if it did, he'd pretend it was the most delectable delicacy he'd ever eaten. He would believe so, with his whole being. Even if it was bad, your stunning smile would be sweet enough for it to substitute the taste.

You're surprised when Jeno brings his own fork up to your lips, blinking in shock. When you look up at him, he gives you an encouraging look. "I'll feed you, you'll feed me."

You don't think he's aware of how intimate this is. Not when he's looking at you with such innocence and care. But with the dim, warm lighting from the distant lamp, and the music that still plays softly in the background, this feels too romantic—too real.

You go along with it anyway, knowing that you'd do anything and everything for him.

As your lips come in contact with the cake, and your teeth clash just slightly with the metal of the fork, you realize the strawberry jam you used for each layer—it's sour.

Instantly, you gaze up at Jeno, to gauge his reaction and his opinion of your cake, only to see that his mouth is closed, lips stretched into a soft, loving smile as his face his dodged from your fork.

"Jeno, you—how could you!"

In a moment, both forks are on the ground as you lunge forward to grab at his shirt. On your lips is an embarrassed smile, your eyes shut as you shake him back and forth. "You ass! I made this for you..."

"Sorry, sorry!" Jeno laughs, his hands enveloping yours, holding on top of them as you continue to shake him. "You just looked so cute—all anticipated and excited,"

"Yeah! For you to taste it!"

"Fine, fine! I'll taste it! Just stop shaking me!"

When you scowl and release his collar, his hands don't leave yours, instead, he takes your hands in his, his fingers slotting almost perfectly between yours with ease. You don't shy away from this, it's normal for him to do this. It's a typical tactic he uses so you don't start fooling around once more—but this time... it feels different. His touch seems gentler, his thumbs rubbing softly up and down the sides of your palm. You have to admit, it has your heart in a twist.

"How are you going to try it if you keep holding my hands?" You smart him, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jeno's eyes search yours, his gaze deep. It's almost as if he's trying to look into your soul—trying to find the place you keep the thought of him. He should look into your heart, then.

His right hand suddenly leaves yours, and just as you think he's about to grab the fork once more, his hand inches towards your face. You don't dodge it, despite your shock, your lips parting in surprise, and Jeno knows that he's interrupted one of your sassy, smart retorts that he loves so much.

It's like instinct when his palm envelops your cheek, that you lean into his touch, your head tilting into his hold. As his thumbs rub at your cheek, his eyes search your entire face, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection. He searches, and keeps searching, only to find nothing. You want this. As much as he does.

"...so are you going to try the cake?"

"Give me a minute, you dork,"

You laugh, and he laughs when you laugh. Your laughter entangle in the air and echo, like a resonating song on repeat—the kind that no matter how many times you play over and over, you never get sick of it.

Suddenly, Jeno's nose is brushing against yours. His thumb gently caressing at your bottom lip. He searches your eyes once more, and at this proximity, he can finally tell what you feel. In your eyes, it's him. In his eyes, it's you. In your heart, is his. In his soul, is yours.

The tender exchange of affectionate looks screams only one thing.

I love you.

When Jeno's lips press to yours, you're not surprised. Instead, you welcome it warmly, reciprocating and leaning into it.

His hands travel, one to your neck, the other your waist to tug you closer. Your own find comfort in the hairs of the bottom of his neck, tousling the strands there. You feel his lips curl into a smile, as his neck cranes to find an angle to grow closer to you, if it were possible.

Jeno slowly and gently lowers you to your back, his hand protecting the back of your head as he settles you down on your carpet, hovering over your body. As your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue finds yours, tangling tenderly and lovingly, declaring his care and affection, all his feelings for you.

You smile against his lips as Jeno's laugh vibrates against your own, content and devoted, finding the whole situation unbelievable. Luck truly is in his favor, and he thinks he's one step closer to his birthday wish coming true.

When Jeno pulls away, his breath is warm against your lips, the tip of his nose grazing against yours.

"...tastes sweet," He finally elates, smiling. His eyes find yours, pupils dilated with love.

You laugh out, eyes squeezed shut, and head throwing back against his hand that still holds you protectively. You snort when he gives you a confused, almost lost puppy-like look. "The cake jam was sour, Jeno,"

"Oh," he hums. "must've just been you I was tasting, then..."

You push playfully at his shoulder. "Oh my god, you sappy idiot!"

"No, no," He retorts with a grin. "you taste sweet. I didn't get a single taste of sour,"

"Taste the cake, then!"

"Don't wanna, just want you,"

Despite his words, you make him taste the cake, laughing as his nose scrunches up. "It's—oh god—it's sweet! I swear!" He insists.

Finally, Jeno feels complete. He no longer feels an empty void inside of him, he no longer feels lonely or hurt when he looks at you—though he does feel his heart hurt, swelling with the amount of love he has for you. He can finally say wholeheartedly that he's satisfied with his life, that he feels fulfilled.

He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends, the best girlfriend he could ask for, and a steady side job to support himself and his girl, you.

Jeno is dead set on making his birthday wish come true.

[overadores]

⋆˙⟡ must be love.

⋆˙⟡ pairing: manon bannerman x 7th!member reader ⋆˙⟡ about: it’s supposed to be a simple trip—just you, the snow, and a board beneath your feet, but then manon joins and suddenly, the air feels warmer. the silence feels louder. she says she wants to learn, but you’re starting to wonder who’s really teaching who. ⋆˙⟡ genre: fluff fluff fluff ⋆˙⟡ wc: 1.2k ⋆˙⟡ tune in: must be love by laufey ⋆˙⟡ a/n: as promised a fluff! not my best one tho, but i tried to make one T-T. I'll make another one cuz im not really satisfied with this. oh and i'll try to start on my smau hehe, and try to make a sabrina or jenna fic :D

It started with a Weverse post.

Just a photo of the chalet, half-covered in snow like powdered sugar dusted over gingerbread, with a lazy caption that barely hinted at anything: “Back home for a bit. Time to fall on my face snowboarding again ⛷️❄️”

Meant as a joke. Meant as a “don’t forget I exist” kind of thing.

I didn’t expect the flood of comments, or the stream of DMs from our fans. But most of all, I didn’t expect Manon to come knocking on my door five minutes later—literally, not metaphorically—still in her pajama pants, holding her phone like it had personally offended her.

“You didn’t think to invite me?” she said, pouting like I’d just eaten the last cookie.

I blinked at her, rubbing my eyes. “Invite you where?”

“Switzerland. Snow. Boards. You. What do you mean ‘where’?”

I laughed, thinking she was just teasing. But Manon wasn’t joking. She crossed her arms, stubborn. “You’re gonna teach me how to snowboard. That’s what’s happening. You promised once. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me.” “I’m dead serious,” she said. “You promised”

“I did?” I asked, still groggy.

She nodded, determined. “You did. On the tour bus. In Tokyo. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me how to snowboard.”

Of course she remembered. I vaguely did too. I probably said it in passing, like I always do when I’m too tired to filter myself. Still, I didn’t think she’d actually take me up on it.

But now she stood there with her bottom lip sticking out and her eyes all wide and serious and a duffle bag already packed behind her.

So I said yes.

The flight was quiet, save for the moments she kept humming the melody from one of our unreleased songs, except for the moment Manon fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled a little bit , but I didn’t mind. I kind of smiled to myself, tugged the blanket higher over her, and let her sleep. Switzerland in late winter was pure magic. The kind of cold that wakes you up without hurting. 

My family’s vacation home sat tucked away in the Swiss Alps like a secret. The house was warm with pine-scented candles and the fireplace my mom insisted on lighting even if it wasn’t that cold inside. My brothers dropped by to say hi, and Manon charmed them within minutes, laughing at their jokes, stealing bites of fondue, slipping into our little world so easily it almost hurt. I watched her make my older brother laugh until he cried. That was new.

She always had this way of doing that. Blending in, but somehow shining just a little brighter than everyone else.

We hit the slopes the next morning.

“Okay,” I said, strapping on my board and tightening my gloves. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

Manon looked up at me from where she was awkwardly trying to balance on her board, an innocent expression plastered across her face. “Not really, no. I mean, a little. I went skiing once. Does that count?”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s slippery snow things. Same vibe.”

“Right.” I laughed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

It wasn’t, though. Or rather—it was, but in the best way.

Manon pretended to be clueless, but I caught her adjusting her stance just a little too well. And every time I gave her advice, she already seemed to know what I was going to say. She let herself fall a lot, though. Mostly into me.

“Oops,” she’d say, her laugh muffled against my jacket.

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“Nooo,” she’d drawl. “Never.”

But the way she looked up at me from the snow, grinning like a devil in a beanie, told me otherwise.

After a few hours and a lot of falling—real or otherwise—we collapsed near the edge of one of the quieter trails, just past a ridge where the snow dipped into soft rolling hills. The sky was blushing pink, the sun slow and syrupy as it slid behind the peaks. I pulled off my gloves, breath fogging in front of me, cheeks flushed.

Manon flopped beside me in the snow, still laughing from her last fall. “Okay,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. I only almost died three times. That’s a win.”

I chuckled and stretched out next to her, watching the sky change. Everything was quiet up there. No fans, no cameras, no pressure. Just cold air and the smell of pine and the sound of her breath beside mine.

She turned to me, her hair a mess of curls escaping her hat.

“You really love it here,” she said softly.

I nodded, squinting up at the sky. “It’s the only place that doesn’t feel loud. It’s quiet without being empty. You know?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

We were quiet again, the kind that feels full instead of empty. I watched the sun kiss the snow golden. Manon was watching me.

Then she said it.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just—

“You’re really pretty when you’re not paying attention.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She sat up fast, panic flashing across her face. “Wait, I didn’t— That came out weird. I just meant— You look…happy. Here. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

I laughed. “You’re rambling.”

“I know,” she groaned, flopping back down. “Ignore me. It’s the altitude.”

But then, quieter: “I think I might be in love with you.”

The words were soft. No drama. No buildup. Just a quiet, accidental slip. Like she’d said it a million times in her head and finally forgot to keep it there.

I sat up slowly. My breath caught. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I did, but not like this. I know we say ‘I love you’ a lot in the group, but I don’t mean it like that. I mean—”

A pause.

“—not in a friendly way. I love you, and I didn’t plan on telling you, but you looked like that and it just sort of happened.”

I stared at her. My heart was thudding like a drum line in my chest.

She was looking everywhere but at me now, cheeks red—but maybe from the cold, maybe from everything else. I sat up slowly, brushing snow from my coat.

“Manon.”

She groaned. “Don’t. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just—”

“I love you too,” I said finally.

Her head snapped up. She blinked. “Like—?”

“Like,” I added, shifting so I was facing her directly, “not in the group, we’re-besties kind of way. I think I’ve been trying not to think about it. Maybe I didn’t want to mess things up. Pretending it was something else. But it’s not. It’s you.”

Manon blinked. “Oh.”

For a beat, neither of us moved.

And then we were laughing again — breathless, snow-damp, joy bubbling up in our chests like we didn’t know where else to put it..

She leaned in, slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay.

I met her halfway.

Our lips were cold, noses red, teeth clinking a little from nerves and cold. But it was still perfect. It was real.

Somewhere in the distance, the sky melted from pink to lavender. The stars were just starting to wake up.

Later, when we walked back to the chalet, Manon’s glove slipped into mine. 

We didn’t say much. 

We didn’t need to.

She leaned her head against my shoulder as we trudged through the snow.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the need to post about it.

Some things, I think, are just for us.

[forget-me-nights]

Okay so I don’t know if you actually wanted an answer but since I’ve been on both ends of this thought and conversation this is what would’ve helped me in either position :

Make clear WHY we’re having this conversation again.

Cause what can make such repetitive conversations genuine exhausting is usually not the repetition itself but the frame it takes place in.

It may sounds annoying or unnecessary or even like you’re “ruining the mood”. But if you make the “WHY” clear it gets easier to respond…if you want a response at all.

What I mean by that is: Make it clear if you just want to vent. If you actually want advice. If you just want someone to be angry/happy etc. with you. If you want someone to make counterpoints.

A simple “hey you give great advice but I’m just angry about x again and need to tell someone so pls just listen if you can” goes along way. So goes “okay I cannot promise I will act on it but I could really need some advice or just another perspective on this conversation.” Of course you can word it in your tone and language but the point is that it

1) gives the other the option to say “not right now but when I get home and had dinner I will have time and energy to given advice” etc.

And 2) gives them the right expectation of their role in this conversation. I’ve had several conversations where one of us just wanted to vent but the other started to give advice that we both realised wouldn’t be taken at best and at worst made us both angry and frustrated for putting in unreciprocated energy. I’ve had conversations where we both only had energy to listen until we realised that there was actually a problem to solve.

Expectations are everything. So set the right ones and make clear if they change!

How to vent about the same problem multiple times without people wanting to beat you to death with hammers

[xazse]

HEYY GOING FERAL OVER LOSER GOJO❤❤❤❤❤❤ can you write more loser gojo pookie? Where reader is like ignoring him cuz she needs to focus on her studies and didn't have time for toru to give him that sweet relief and when he can't take it anymore he comes to her whiny and all needy. So reader stops her studying and rides gojo out?? And he's a total mess underneath, moaning, whimpering, and him digging his nails on readers back and reader is like disgusted and starts to regret riding him but keeps riding him anyways?? Lol idk. Just loser toru makes me go feral.

(Feel free to ignore this z!❤ ily n ur writings especially loser toru you inspire me to also write smut but i suck at writing lol and fear that if I do it would be so shitty n I don't want ppl to judge me lol. I love you, take care of urself z!

♡´･ᴗ･`♡)

(P.s. I'm actually obsessed with ur writings 😍)

More loser!gojo x female!reader

Notes: I know you submitted this awhile ago but omg this was tew hot to let go, thank you for your sweet words I love that you love my writing.

Don’t be afraid to start writing I was as well but I simply threw something out and it got love and that made me want to continue writing, you might not get a lot of love the first few posts but eventually you’ll have dedicated fans who’ll love anything you post!!

Annoying… that’s all that filters through your head as Satoru rambles about whatever the hell he’s been talking about for the past hour, you zoned out the minute Digimon came out of his mouth and that was within the first minute!

Everytime you attempted to let him know that you had a pretty big test coming up and needed the silence and solitude he would promptly shut up for a good ten minutes then start up his motor mouth, how was someone who was top of all his classes not pick up on simple social cues!?! It drove you insane when he did things like this.

Drowning out his voice was nearly impossible with the loud boom that came from his vocal cords when he’d get excited about a certain something. Regardless you know Suguru is too busy to keep him occupied so you’re the next best thing. You press your pen to your paper and focus… focus and even more focusing.

But Satoru is needy, extremely needy.

He doesn’t like being ignored so he does his next tactic by being in your space, he pulls up a stool next to you and hovers over your shoulder, leaning down to look at what you were writing, he even goes as far as to correct a mistake you had made during his endless torture of a mouth.

You’re about to light him on fire but notice his fingers trailing lightly up and down your side, fingers sticking and popping your tank-top, he’s obviously not even looking at the paper anymore but instead down at the flimsy material you call coverage, oh…

You hadn’t even realized how long it had been since that last time you had sex with Toru, he looks so lost with those hazy blue eyes that require attention, he’s probably been touching his poor cock just off pure flashbacks, you feel bad for the man: but not really, you’re curious as to how long it’ll take him to finally break and ask you.

You wanted to play and mess with him for a little longer but not even five minutes pass before he’s guiding your hand to his erect cock, it doesn’t take much to get him aroused so you’d bet he’s been like this for a while. He leans his head down to rest in the crook of your neck, hiding his reddened face.

“You’ve been… ignoring me.” He whispers more to himself than you, the way he drags it out makes it come out as desperation on his tongue.

“I’ve been busy Toru, you know that.” You bring yourself to your feet, sliding your chair into your desk and making your way to the bed. His eyes follow your figure and they land on you roughly patting the bed prompting him to slip in front of you, seated nice and pretty.

“Well? Take it off, all of it.” Snapping at him gets him to start undoing his belt but of course he’s clumsy and unorganized so it takes him a while.

He’s completely nude and sitting at the top of your bed, relaxing against your lush fluffy pillows. His cock hasn’t calmed down at all, still an angry red crying for your soft hands around it, you give him the gift of jerking him a few times, his sensitive dick reacting quickly along with his body thrusting forward.

Within a few seconds precum has started leaking and pooling inbetween your fingers, it’s gross really. You’re thinking about just getting him off, washing your hands and going back to your studies but something sinister grows in your belly, it’s been a while since you’ve had some so why not jump at this opportunity.

First before you even think of connecting with Satoru for the first time in a while you have him beg for it, beg for your cunt around his nasty cock. Just the pathetic excuse of a man he is, the pleas roll off his tongue with ease, he starts cruising low on his tongue, even telling you how much he loves you and how pretty you are.

You think you’ve collected enough of his juices, the loud squelches every drag of his cock is more than enough proof.

Riding his cock is an entirely different story, he’s sat up, face drowned in your chest as he cries out even more pleas.

“Feel’s so goodd” he slurs out as best as he can but the clench of your pussy doesn’t help at all, it’s wet and obscene the way your juices mix with his, a nasty concoction being made. You bury your fingers in his hair pulling him out of your chest every now and then to stare at his ruined snotty face, he’s crying just like the baby he is. The things your pussy does to him make him not himself, the way your walls fit so snuggly around him, or the way you press your hips against his drives him mad.

You bounce on his cock purely without his help, his stamina clearly not being all there he’s practically being used as a sex toy, and you make sure to tell him that, that’s all he is to you, something for your pussy to get off with. Of course he nods along and confirms everything that comes out your mouth, yes he’s a disgusting loser, yes he doesn’t deserve pussy this good, and yes he’ll buy you whatever bag is trending right now.

His sharp untrimmed nails dig into your back, Satoru is so clearly a bitch in heat, what kind of man is the one leaving marks in the woman’s back?

You’re not able to think about the nails not when you feel something leaking down your chest: his drool, you’re about to get off him and leave him high and dry but the way he whines for you, cries out your name has you second guessing.

So you continue riding and chasing your own high, he can cum as many times as he wants but you aren’t through yet, not even when hes flopping on the bed, spent and exhausted are you stopping, you chase that spark that sits and festers up.

[xoxojisu]

"I LOVE YOU."

synopsis: in which kenma quietly realizes he's completely, utterly in love with you.

notes: it's like THE MOMENT he realizes yk. AHH i love this trope. @suniix my fellow kenma lover <3

you’re sitting on the floor, legs tucked beneath you, bent over his switch case like you’re disarming a bomb. you’re not, but you might as well be. you were focusing on organizing his many games, something he never asked you to do but clearly needed. there’s a small crease between your eyebrows and your tongue is poking out slightly in concentration. you're humming something that sounds like a mashup between 'kiss me,' 'uptown girl,' and the animal crossing theme song. he can’t tell if it's a song he's simply never heard of, or if he's actually correct. he thinks he is.

kenma’s on the couch, curled into himself on one end, a blanket you got for him draped across his lap and a drink in his hands that you made exactly the way he likes it. it's ice cold and disgustingly sweet. he hadn’t even asked. you just knew.

kenma realizes that you know quite a lot about him. you know of his drink preferences and his chronic coldness. he knows that you've noticed how when he lies, his eyes get shifty or he'll start fidgeting. you know he can't open packaging on snacks for the life of him and automatically hand him a knife, because you can't either. you know how bad he is at asking for affection, so you curl your fingers into his scalp at the first sign that he wants it.

they're random and unimportant details, but undeniably and utterly him. and you see all of it. he thinks it's nice.

the room is softly lit, a couple lamps illuminated the space. no overhead lights. he doesn't like how fluorescent they are, and they can sometimes overstimulate him. of course, he's never mentioned this, but you figured it out on your own. the curtains are half-drawn, and the tv’s still on the menu screen of the game you were supposed to start an hour ago, forgotten in the warmth of just simply existing next to each other.

he doesn't really know why, but he has now put down his game in favor of watching you. really watching you.

not because you’re doing anything extraordinary. you're just… being. sitting in his hoodie, sleeves slightly rolled, hair thrown lazily into something of a bun. fixing something for him that he didn’t even realize was broken. and smiling, every now and then, to yourself. like it’s enough just to be here.

and that’s when it hits him.

he doesn’t feel his chest tighten like the air has been sucked out of him, or his stomach flutter with the intensity of a thousand butterflies. it’s not cinematic or dramatic like those shojo animes you like to watch where the music kicks up and the camera circles around them in riveting and exciting motions. it’s quiet. like a single domino tipping in slow motion, or a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

“oh.”

he says it out loud, though barely audible, like a secret meant for no one but himself. it sounds stupid as soon as it leaves his mouth, so he coughs, trying to cover it up, hoping you didn’t hear.

you glance up.

“hm?”

he shakes his head a little too fast. “nothing. just… forgot something.”

you blink, noticing the way his eyes shift, but then go back to your organizing, humming that random tune again.

he watches you for another beat, then looks down at the drink you made for him. he sips it slowly, even though it’s cooled down a little. still sweet. still perfect. still him. still you.

and in the back of his mind, something settles. quiet. simple.

"i love you."

masterlist

[hhhhunty]

Redwall Piece supernovas lineup! I am going to yap about them under the cut, but if you want to enjoy just these drawings that's fine! 😊

Okay okay! So, some of these we've seen before but honestly I didn't talk a lot about my assignments and I want to and you know what it's my blog and I should indulge myself! I'll go in order :)

Alright there's fox hawkins, who I've posted before! My reasoning for this one is pretty simple - foxes in redwall are tricky, yes, but they also tend to be seers and fortune tellers! I felt that suited Hawkins' vibe very well. Honestly his is a pretty simple assignment.

Next is Zoro and Luffy and I'm partial to them so here's a picture of just them. Zoro is a badger, and Luffy's a weasel.

Zoro's was the biggest no-brainer of all time. Even if you don't know Redwall I think badger suits him as an animal. In redwall they're generally immensely powerful, somewhat solitary, and most importantly some of 'em have got a very fun affliction called bloodwrath, where when they get very angry in the heat of battle their eyes turn blood red and their vision is overtaken by a red haze and they go totally berserk! Yay! I really like that for Zoro. There's the fun stress revolving around loss of control along with his intense need to protect his friends. Also, his stripe is green. Why? Maybe he rolled in grass. Maybe it's mold. Maybe he was born that way. Yes, Sanji makes fun of it.

Now, Luffy. Luffy's a weasel, and in Redwall the creatures have... archetypes, sort of. There are "Vermin" and there are "Woodlanders" and for the most part these roles are bad and good respectively, with very few grey characters, or characters who break this mold. Weasels are always, always, evil. Now I'm not an elementary schooler so I'm rejecting that, to an extent. Luffy's more textbook selfish, here, and probably a bit more of an asshole, too, but he hoards his friends just as obsessively as in canon! He's less sympathetic towards people he doesn't know, too. Also, I can just imagine him flopping down and twisting and running circles around all his friends and I think that's very cute.

Killer and Kid!!!

So, originally, I had intended to make them both rats. However it was brought to my attention Killer is based off a yokai called kamaitachi, which is a weasel with sickle claws. I liked that a lot, so I sort of channeled it here. His punishers don't spin, but still they're fun. I made him look much more like a stereotypical cartoon weasel than I have for any other mustelid I've drawn, because I really liked the vibe for him.

As for Kid, he just makes a fantastic Massive Rat. Rats, of course, are pretty much fully evil in Redwall, unless they're too stupid to be evil, which happened one time across 22 books. That's fine because Kid is pretty evil. Pirates in redwall are all vermin, so I felt making these pirates vermin wouldn't be so bad.

Drake and Law!

Honestly Drake was mostly just my gut instinct. He's a redhead. Squirrels are red. Squirrels also make pretty brave warriors it seems. They're also "good" creatures, which I think works well with Drake's whole SWORD deal. That blue looks very nice with his orange fur in my opinion. I adore how he turned out.

Law I've drawn before. He's just such a great ferret. Yes, ferrets are evil. But Law's a little evil too so that's fine. I actually gave him his hat this time, good for him!

Bonney and Bege!

Bonney is a hedgehog. Why? I liked it. I think Bonney being able to roll into a spiky ball is fantastic. Hedgehogs are "good" creatures, of course. Also I love her i love her so much. Her spikes are pinkish because well I wanted them to be. Whoever guessed Bonney and Kuma were the badger father and adoptive hedgehog daughter yeah you were right. I'm normal.

Bege's a shrew! Most shrews are "good," with a handful of exceptions. They usually run in groups of a bunch of shrews, generally on rivers. I also took some inspiration from that one shrew from zootopia because that felt somewhat similar.

Lastly, Apoo and Urouge!

Apoo I've drawn before, he's a goose! Some geese have funny poofy feathers on their head. He has that. The brown is not feathers, but rather something kind of like hair extensions, made from... I dunno. Something brown, obviously. Apoo honks at people and chases them and he's really annoying.

Urouge was.... hard. He's the only supernova without much screentime. I wanted him to be a bird but my options were limited... so I settled on a sparrow. Why? I dunno. They're pretty good warriors so he has that going for him. I think visually he turned out cute even if his species choice feels the weakest.

That's about all I have to say thank you. Any questions or comments or suggestions? Send me asks!!! I never shut up!!!!

[revelboo]

Your stories of TF x human remind me of this

🤣 I love this.

Everything this Megs does just backfires completely on him

Broken Arrow Pt 20

TFP Megatron x Reader

• “Do you know what you just did?” He growls, a big hand over his face, his other hand fisted in your harness and you tense. Consider elbowing him in the face and running for it even though you know there’s no where to go. What’s he going to do to you now that he has what he wanted? Now that you’re no longer amusing to him? You were just so tired of resisting him, trying to keep him at arm’s length when you actually kind of like him, maybe even love him as awful as he is. And you freeze.

• “Fuck,” you breathe and he lifts his arm to stare at you. Registering your wide eyes. Figured it out then? Laughing bitterly, he tugs on your harness to send you sprawling on him. Had wanted everything, all of you to fill in those jagged gaps into himself. To not be alone and when you finally submit, you do this to him? Spark him? And you immediately shove at him, hand splayed against his face. Trying to get away.

• You don’t really love this asshole, do you? Struggling as he refuses to let you get away, he’s laughing again. Completely unbothered. He’s a jerk. He’s mean for no reason sometimes. He freaking bites you like a dog. Stuck you in this stupid, glittery harness. And he’s also touched you so gently like you’re made of glass. Clung to you like you’re all that keeps him afloat, keeping him in check. You saw his truth when you bonded with him, the injustices and hurt. Theybetrayals that forged him. And anger had resonated through you at how he’d been treated. Groaning, now you’re covering your face with your hands. What the heck is wrong with you? Cause you do love him.

• “Feeling guilty about sparking me?” He growls and you stare at him through your fingers, expression utterly blank. Like you have no idea. Going still, he stares back. But. You’d accepted his bond fully. Accepted when he’d coaxed you to let him spark you. ‘I what now?’ You ask and he bares his denta, features twisting in fury. Hope backwards are humans to not even understand something so simple? To have no clue what he’s been asking? Because if you didn’t understand, you hadn’t really accepted him.

• Love or not, you know that look. That’s the expression he had when he smashed that poor Vehicon face first into a console. Smacking him in the face, you roll off of him and shriek when he rolls and drags you back by your stupid harness, biting your arm when you try to shove his head away and he’s not breaking your skin, but he’s snarling like a rabid dog the entire time. And he’s trying to drag you to him for a kiss when you bite his lip as hard as you can.

• Mouth crashing against yours, tasting energon, he shifts to straddle you, head lifting, he swipes his lip with a servo. Sees his energon smeared on your own lip. “You’re going to a terrifying carrier,” he growls, trying to ignore the fact that technically he’s the carrier as impossible as it should be. “Our sparklings are going to be feral, vicious things.” And you’re just breathing heavily, eyes narrowing as he lazily straightens your harness. Defeated for now. Do you have any idea how much he loves that fire and resistance? How much he adores you and the challenge of winning you over? Cupping your cheek, he slides a servo against your bottom lip. Not at all surprised when you bite him again without hesitation.

Previous

[illiteratekat]

talking about life with skz ! ♡︎

(hyung line)

chan :

“where do you think we’ll be 40 years from now?” chan looks at you. he looks at you with those stupid iloveyouweshouldkiss eyes. the eyes that you fall in love with every. single. time.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean what i said. where do you think we’ll be 40 years from now?” he looks at you again. and all of a sudden he just looks so insanely beautiful. “will we, you know, still love each other the way we do now?”

you sigh, lifting your hand to hold his head from right behind his ear. “we better.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, baby.”

“now we kiss?”

“now we kiss,” you confirm, pressing a sweet smiley kiss to his perfect lips. the lips you’ve memorized with years of lingering touches on your skin.

.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to stop loving you,” he sighs, although a smirk is being lazily toyed with upon his lips. you smile right back. “you better don’t.”

minho :

“what’s your favorite color?” you ask him. it’s such a… regular, normal, average question, so much so that he doesn’t expect it. “excuse me?”

a smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “what’s your favorite color? you know, red, blue, yellow—”

“i know that dumbass. i just mean, why? why, all of a sudden, do you want to know my favorite color?” he looks so genuinely confused. and if it weren’t for your usual degenerate and borderline perverted behavior, he probably would understand it. but he clearly doesn’t. so you elaborate a little.

“i know all about you. i know all your ins and outs. i know that you love soongie, doongie and dori more than you love dance—which to be honest, would’ve surprised past me—and i know that you would never hurt me.

“but i don’t, however, know the simplicities. for example,” you punctuate. “what’s your favorite color?”

“oh.”

“oh?”

“yeah. oh,” minho pauses, his mouth still open. “it’s purple.”

you aren’t shocked, but you press on. “why?”

“it reminds me of you. that’s what i like it. it’s not simple, it causes complex emotion—like when i first met you—and it’s breathtaking. it’s beauty in every form it takes.”

“minho,” you sigh dramatically, causing him to raise his eyes to meet yours. “i love you so much.”

“did you know that one too?”

you raise an eyebrow. “what ‘one’?”

“that i love you.”

“yeah. yeah, i did.”

changbin :

“hey sweetheart,” changbin greets you. it’s clear he’s had a long day, so you opt to stay quiet. that isn’t how he likes you, though. he likes it when you’re loud and boisterous, like a horny teenage boy. so, when you sit down on the couch to relax a little, he slings an arm over your shoulder.

“what’s wrong, babe?” he looks at you with surprising concern. you raise a brow. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, whats bothering you?”

“nothing, just didn’t wanna bother you when it’s been a long day.”

he blinks once, long. “you never bother me. it’s the highlight at the end of my day, actually. coming home to see you and laugh, see you and do anything. it’s what makes my day a day.”

you look at him, and all you can see is a loving man who you’d never want to leave. who you’d never leave. ever.

“if that’s the case, then maybe we should be watching impractical jokers right about now!”

he chuckles. “yeah. yeah, i think i’d like that.”

hyunjin :

hyunjin paints. he paints all day, every day. it’s his job, but he couldn’t ask for a better one. but his favorite muse has got to be you. he loves it when he can paint you with his eyes, just squeezing every little bit of you into his mind. and it’s like his hugs. he won’t let go.

it’s like a little secret of his, that he won’t ever tell you. “hwang hyunjin.”

oh.

he clears his throat, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. “yes, dear?”

“why are you staring at me like that? it’s weird.”

he doesn’t really know how to bring it up. it is, in fact, pretty weird. “i just… i mean… you’re so beautiful. you’re the prettiest painting a god could have ever created. i just want to remember it.”

you swore your heart literally stopped beating for a moment. “what?” your voice cracked. “wait like actually? you think i’m pretty?”

he deadpans, smacking a hand against his forehead. “yes! of course i think you’re pretty.”

you smile lazily at him. he smiles back. you both kind of just smile at each other for a moment, letting the loveliness of the moment sink in.

“thank you for loving me.”

“thank you for letting me.

[hedwig221b]

Have you ever read “You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would” by alice9?

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51306448) it’s an absolute favourite of mine and I wonder whether you know any fics similar to it?

Also recommended by @avabean24 ❤

It's been 84 years, and I didn't really get what recs you wanted, bc this wonderful fic has so many tropes. I focused on secret relationship, so here we go, I guess?

You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would by alice9

The Hales didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either. And for fifteen years he made it a point to have as little interaction with them as possible. It comes as a shock then, when Derek Hale turns up at his door one night, screaming baby in his arms, asking for help.

Operation Girl Scout Cookies by katsu_kiri

After a minute Derek looks back up, his lips puckering in thought, “so…we just…see each other in secret. Then in November after local elections we can see each other for real?” “We are seeing each other for real! It’s just us who know about it for the first few months,” Stiles corrects. “Okay.” Stiles holds his breath, eyes widening, “okay as in okay let’s secretly date?” “Yes,” Derek adds his tone a little less bitter as if he is just now warming up to the idea. “Awsome! Holy shit, dude we’re mates,” Stiles beams. Or the one where both Talia and John are running for mayor of Beacon Hills and their sons end up being mates. Enter a secret relationship, a dash of smut, and a way too involved Laura Hale.

Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Pry Him From My Cold Dead Fingers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"So they’re coming for our Emissary because they lost theirs?” Derek asked, somewhat angrily. “It would appear. The McCall-Hale Pack’s reputation precedes itself.” “Don’t worry,” Scott said, “we won’t let them touch you.” Deaton turned to him, offering a private smile before inclining his head slightly. “Very comforting, Scott, thank you. But,” he looked between them, “I’m not the Emissary they’re coming after.” Derek frowned and shared a look with Scott, who looked as confused as he did. “What do you mean?” Scott asked. “What other Emissary is there?”

Operation Get Derek Laid by Kikileduc

There's pining, misunderstandings, confusion, a little jealousy… Stiles and Derek have a nice thing, no one knows, yet. The issue is, the pack wants their alpha to get lucky at the werewolf seminar, and well Stiles thinks Derek wants that too…

Mismatched Match by LadyDrace

Getting to date hot senior jock Derek Hale should be cause for shouting from the rooftops, frankly, but life is a little more complicated than that. Until it isn't.

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by standinginanicedress

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb. Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn't even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record. The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great. Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin' Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again. Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

Until Sunrise

"You told me I would have time,” Derek said, simmering with anger. “You promised to leave the choice to me.” “The court is starting to talk,” said Peter. “We do not have a stellar reputation as it is, and your ventures into the world of simple pleasures do not go unnoticed. You do not care, of course. But you are, pardon me, too loud for it to remain discreet.” “You think if I were to have a wife, I would stop fucking?” Peter cringed his nose. “No. It would make you a proper, civilized man. You are getting too old, nephew.” “Fine. But I’ll choose.” “No,” Peter smiled. “I shall choose.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Peter did not let him. “We both know you will continue to fuck whomever you want. None of us will be able to stop you. Let me have a pick of a proper spouse to placate the court. That’s all I ask.”

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | feral Stiles | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles | somnophiIia |

[literaila]

✩‧˚ FLUSHED

nanami kento x fem!reader

a/n: so i've decided that it's all worthless and this is now a collection of one shots. so this can be read as a standalone. love ya and whatever i'll make a masterlist some day

you’re leaning against a wall when he finds you, hands idly fiddling with a wrapper you left in your pocket.

by this point you’ve torn it to shreds, piled the shreds together in a deformed, sad looking ball, and separated them once again.

all of this to say—you’ve been waiting for far too long. but there’s not a set time for these meetings. just pure observation and prayers to a heaven that you’ll never be apart of. he isn’t even sure to show up—it all just seems to work out, in that strange, synchronistic way.

“nanami,” you smile, easily, scrunching up your nose at him. it makes you a bit dizzy. “funny seeing you here.”

“i had a meeting. have you been waiting?”

“oh, no, just… leaning against this wall. i like it here. it’s cozy.”

“hmm.”

it’s not completely untrue, though it is extremely lame. you really do like this corner of the street, the glow of the light from the street signs, the shadows that hide your face just enough. it’s nice.

you move towards him, carefully observing his face and torso for any clues about his day.

he’s not going to tell you, obviously, because nanami has trust issues. and because you’re certainly not to be trusted. but he leaves just enough clues for you to guess at least somewhat accurately.

his hair is uniform, slicked back and perfect, his sleeves are already rolled up—like he was preparing. he’s wearing the blackish-blue loafers today, to go with his shirt, so he probably got a decent amount of sleep.

not that you’ve ever seen him with mismatched socks, or anything of the sort. but he has a color scheme, and, slowly but surely, you’re picking up on it. the day you crack it completely will be celebrated.

not by nanami, of course. he thinks he’s sneaky.

the most important part of his attire, though, is that he’s looking at you like you’re the least interesting thing that he’s ever seen. but what else is new?

“i like the blue,” you tell him, reaching out to tug at his collar. nanami makes a face—probably because you have no boundaries, or means of respecting them—but doesn’t push you off. “it makes your eyes pop.”

he frowns at you, tastefully. “my eyes are brown.”

“hence the pop.”

and you’re grinning at him, leaning forward like you might be able to trick a smile onto his face, but nanami’s frown only seems to deepen.

it usually does. you’re nothing if not determined, or just completely foolish.

“are you hot?” he asks you, suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

“no? it’s kinda chilly out, actually.”

“you look flushed.”

his words only make you want to flush more. suddenly the curious look on your face feels like a curse.

it’s irritating, really. you’ve spent half of your life perfectly in control of your emotions, of your physical reactions, and it only takes one grumpy businessman to ruin it all? to break through your hard composure and perfectly formatted smiles?

nanami kento isn’t even that charming, really. he’s kind of a stick in the mud. he never laughs at your jokes, he doesn’t say anything that hints at him wanting to be here, with you, and he just simply points out your mistakes with absolutely no regard for your ego.

he’s an asshole, basically, and for some reason you still like being here. you still show up early and wait for him because you know he hates waiting around even more than you do.

and it’s fucking cold outside. you shouldn’t be flushed, or nervous, or twitching like some flirty schoolgirl. you shouldn’t feel flustered from a simple, obvious observation.

“oh,” is all you say—once again, despite the years of perfected politics and smooth talking. “that’s… strange. this jacket wasn’t cheap though. anyway, are we going to stay here, or do you have a—“

nanami reaches a hand to your face, the back of his palm pressing on your cheek.

you have absolutely no qualms about getting in his personal space, or touching him like he’s just some teddy bear you found on the street but—he’s never reciprocated.

you just barely stop yourself from jumping back, though you do lean away. “um. you alright there, handsome?”

“you’re warm.”

you squint, trying to determine what the look on his face means. “uh, yeah, big fancy jacket. glad we covered that. i think—“

“you have a fever.”

you snort. “no i don’t.”

“you’re burning up,” he tells you, curtly, because he has no time for this. “how do you feel? headache? any nausea?”

“you have a business degree, blondie, not a medical one.”

“…i don’t actually,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

you grin despite yourself. “i don’t get sick. you dont need to worry about it.”

“you need to check your temperature. when was the last time you had any water?”

you sigh, looking at the wall. “are you going to keep asking pointless questions, or are we going to learn something tonight?”

kento reaches down to grab your hand, a firm scowl on his face. “you’re shaking.”

“no, i’m—“ you look down to the hand that isn’t in his. then you abruptly steal your hand back from him. “it’s just cold outside.”

“and yet you’re sweating,” nanami tells you, blandly.

you turn to the side, crossing your arms so he can’t see your hands and their obvious betrayal. “will you stop looking at me like i’m a lab experiment? i don’t get sick.”

nanami shakes his head, like you’re an idiot with no self preservation—which is… mostly true—and he can’t believe that he has to deal with you. then he looks down at his watch. “everyone gets sick.”

“i don’t. my immune system is made out of non-porous material. nothing can get in, and nothing does. nothing, nanami. you’d have to chip at it for a month to make even a dent.”

and however fever-crazed and in denial you may be, you still notice when nanami’s lip twitches and his eyes shine with just the faintest hint of amusement.

if you weren’t actively trying to step away from him, you would take a picture.

“i think bacteria is known for chipping,” he tells you, just a hint too smooth to be a joke. “i’m not going to teach you anything when you’re sick. is there someone you can call to pick you up?”

you tilt your head at him, “not unless you want to make friendly with a drug dealer slash ex-assassin.”

nanami crosses his arms.

“what? you hang out with me.”

“i didn’t have much of a choice in that,” he responds, checking his phone. “i can take you to a hospital. it’s not too late.”

“i’m not going to a hospital to waste their time, nanami.”

“they have medication, and a safe place for you to sleep. that doesn’t seem like a waste to me.”

“it’s a waste because i’m not sick,” you frown, re-crossing your arms just to mock him.

he’s not a child, though, so he doesn’t react. “you can’t walk home by yourself. you’re already stumbling.”

you groan. “no, i’m not.”

“you’re being stubborn,” nanami shakes his head again. “i can walk you home. is it very far?”

you take a breath in, attempting not to let any noticeable reaction slip onto your face. “it’s… far.”

“how far?”

you look away from him, hesitating. “i—“

nanami scoffs, shaking his head for just a moment. and then he nods. “alright. you can stay with me.”

you look over at him, shocked, though your face is cool. he shouldn’t be drawing conclusions, you think, he shouldn’t be noticing anything.

you’ve tried hard enough to keep him away from anything personal about you. if nanami doesn’t trust you, then you don’t even know him. pleasantries and meetings are fine, but he can’t fall any deeper, any harder into the abyss with you.

and he shouldn’t be inviting something he knows nothing about to stay at his house.

“are you crazy?” you ask, before you consider the words. “it’s—it’s fine, nanami. i’ll walk home. i’ll even schedule a doctors appointment, if it’ll make my mother hen feel better.”

you give him a short smile, feeling the adrenaline you’ve felt for weeks around him course through your veins.

nanami is never amused, but especially not now. “you can’t walk home alone in your condition.”

“what condition—“

“if i can’t take you there, then you will have to come with me. i’m sure you know where it is already, anyway.”

“nanami—“

“no. you have a fever, and…” he looks down the street, jaw tense. “i don’t trust you by yourself right now.”

you watch him—just a second longer. he’s not lying. he’s never really lied to you about anything. nanami is very straightforward, even if he keeps his cards tucked in his sleeve. he doesn’t hesitate, and he isn’t nice just because.

he’s kind. you’ve known him—seen him—long enough to know all of that.

but it’s still strange when it’s directed at you. it still makes you falter—just to think that he might be comfortable, with you. that he’s not afraid, like you both know he should be.

you lick your lips, looking down the street with him. “are you going to nurse me back to health?”

“if you accept that you’re sick—then, yes, i will.”

you look over to him, lips twitching. “are you going to make me soup?”

“i can, yes.”

“are you going to spoon feed it to me?”

nanami meets your eyes, and he’s not laughing, but he’s not frowning either. “i can, yes.”

“why would you do that?” you ask him, softly, just because you know he won’t lie.

“somebody has to.”

cruel, trained liar, skillful manipulator you may be, but your chest still twitches at the words.

and then nanami wraps his arm around yours, allowing you to lean against him. he’s warm, even through your coat, and his hold is gentle.

“it’s not far from here,” nanami tells you.

you grin at him. “i know.”

[lilysmiles11223345]

I’ve had to learn to teach myself that my thoughts don’t make up who I am as a person, it’s not easy— and I’m not even done doing that. With ocd it’s just even worse.

But what a lot of people don’t realize or understand is that you can have terrible thoughts and that doesn’t mean you yourself agree with them, infact, often for people with ocd the reaction of pure fear and anxiety we get from those terrible thoughts show that we aren’t agreeing with them. Which is dangerous because not only do people with ocd not understand that easily (it’s so hard to) but PEOPLE WITHOUT OCD don’t understand that.

You don’t need to be a terrible person to think of yourself kicking a puppy, being a terrible person is actively wanting to kick that puppy, not a passive thought of it, and definitely not an active fearing thought of it.

Even without that though, the whole thing with the internet’s cancel culture and purity culture is very dangerous for everyone. People don’t always know when to stop and realize humans aren’t always perfect. And that usually comes with them doing bad actions sometimes, and sometimes we aren’t doing anything bad at all and we are just doing stuff that not everyone agrees with or likes but isn’t really bad or harming anyone (something as simple as oc x canon can be listed here). It doesn’t mean we’re all terrible people, it just means we’re people.

Consequences for an action is different than active bullying people for a reason that’s not even good and kind of hypocritical. We need to stop and actually think which ones we’re doing as a whole because it affects everyone terribly— including those with OCD.

Please don’t be mad if people don’t always actively do “good things” or make mistakes or for goodness sake— just do something you don’t always agree with. We need to learn to be more neutral again too.

tumblr: constantly be aware of your own privilege. constantly be aware of your capacity of be evil. hey i know you really like that new piece of media but make sure you're aware of all of the problematic elements all the time. hey i noticed you reblogged a post from a designated Bad Person so please make sure you do a thorough background check on everyone you reblog from to make sure they're not bad, otherwise people might get the wrong idea about you. always be aware of everything bad that's happening in the world all the time because silence is violence. i see you not reblogging this post btw. activist burnout is a privilege so be aware of that. xyz people are required to reblog this post. if you're not constantly fighting against designated Bad People you are inherently complicit and therefore a Bad Person.

people with ocd:

[cimmerian1275]

hey there! Just wanted to pop in and say your art is amazing. Your anatomy is like really insane and you draw it so well with the turtles! Like how?? Your colors and Oc design and don’t get me started on your dragons. So cute.

You’re incredibly talented!! Have an amazing day/night

💖💖💖 Thankyou :D

Honestly wanna know how i draw tmnt so well? DRAGONS! xD

I explained this to a friend yesterday so i can word dump a bit here:

Ive drawn dragons in tons of weird angles/perspectives… a good 2+ years worth spent just practicing drawing drakes and dragons and creatures, and going a little crazy with challenging myself to get experience over a large range of draconic things!

SO, when i started drawing tmnt i was like... "these guys are basically a dragon, but with a shell and WAY LESS DETAIL", and i really mean WAY. LESS. DETAIL, like holy crap i never actually realized how complex dragons were until i drew a turtle and asked myself why i chose one of the most insanely complex things to draw my whole entire life. They have so many limbs, unique anatomy unlike anything IRL, i had to study cats and dogs and horses and birds and then combine that to make up something totally new just to draw ONE dragon because each one has unique anatomy 😭 when i draw dragon shoulders i get so much ptsd from that learning curve /j

Ive studied complex dragon anatomy so much that when i took a look at humanoid shoulders and drew them, they were scarily easy to draw compared to a dragons shoulders. Same goes for legs.

But oohhHHH HANDS, no ones brought it up but i love rambling about how fun it is to draw hands. You can probably tell really quick that i went with dragon-inspired hands for the tmnt, i love giving em claws >:) I draw my dragon feet like theyre just hands used for walking, and ive drawn ALLOT of them. Taking away a few fingers and giving them to a turtle was really simple C: (although i should probably try out drawing them without claws, im kinda curious if i can)

Human arms are a little harder to learn how to draw, but still incredibly similar and it hasnt been too hard to adjust to the subtle differences i need to change when i draw them.

⬆️ Im still working on drawing humanoid arms, the muscles and perspective for humanoid arms are different from what im used to so im still in the middle of that learning curve.

I actually havent been drawing tmnt long, i posted my first fanart Feb 19 this year 👀 and id never drawn a turtle before then.

Your gonna be watching in real-time as my artstyle/experience grows as i keep drawing them, but i am DEFINITELY still practicing and learning! Im hoping when i finally settle with a quality of art im happy with and ive had enough experience to feel confident enough, i really want to make tutorials for how i draw so i can share my knowledge with others <3

[ovaryacted]

Even though I know it’s all intentional, I truly hate how we’ve become forced to normalize AI. I do think that the manufacturing of Artificial Intelligence was not done with malicious intent and has the capabilities of actually doing good, but time and time again ai is being used in literally everything for the worst reasons and getting its getting harder to escape.

From AI being used to scrape people’s hard work all over the internet, to giving predators and abusers more power in fabricating porn of strangers, to being used to strengthen racial bias in surveillance technology and aid in the development of weapons of war and mass destruction against marginalized groups of people…it’s just too fucking much. It’s so exhausting wanting to live in a world where we just didn’t need or have any of this shit, and it wasn’t like this a few years ago either. But now you can’t step outside without seeing something about AI, or a promotional ad for a new system to install. You can’t engage online anywhere without coming across AI software, and literally every single device in our present day implements AI to some degree, and it’s so fucking annoying.

I don’t want to keep worrying about the next idiot that’s spoon feeding my work into their AI system because they lack humanity and imagination. I don’t want to have to manually turn off AI detection on all of my apps and my phone just to use something. I shouldn’t have to be more mindful about the media I consume to distinguish whether or not it’s original or just more AI slop. I know it’s all intentional since we live in a hyper-capitalist world that cares more about profit margins & rapid productivity. But I really do vehemently hate how artificial intelligence has become such a fundamental aspect of our day to day lives when all it does is make the general population dumber and less capable of thinking for themselves.

Sincerely fuck AI. And if you use AI, I really do suggest you read up on how the data centers built to manage these AI systems suck up all of our resources for a simple prompt input. Who cares about answering a question in ChatGPT, entire communities don’t have water because they’re too busy cooling down the servers where people ask what 6 + 10 is cause their brains are so fried they can’t fire a single fucking neuron.

[dragon-flies-72]

I think the thing that really made me realise how much I love Dr Stone was Senku saying something along the lines of

"Chemisty is all about adding and subtracting"

And it straight up shifted the entire way I viewed Chemistry like actually altered how I thought about the subject, especially helpful since I was doing awful in it before