#Not the best thing for making sense or keeping things short

[ilium-ilia]

have this short, unedited ghost x reader drabble thing that hit me violently in the head.

tw: drugging, non/dub-con, somno, implied breeding kink

He comes to you in dreams with heady breath that bleeds through black cloth to brush against your face like a lover's kiss.

But he is no lover, nor man.

Only monster—you call him Ghost.

Ghost arrives when you're in the slick, airy stage between slumber and consciousness, where everything shines too bright and yet is shrouded in a numbra so thick you swear it will choke you. Nothing but tendrils to morph and dance in your vision as you look up at the wide mass before you.

Each time he visits, he wears a mask. Black, with a chalky skull outline along his nose and where his mouth should be—only his eyes are visible. Pools of water darker than the lowest depths of the ocean, ready to drown you. Ready to feel the way your pulse quickens when held beneath the waves that have consumed him long ago.

He never speaks. Not to you—only to himself in deep growls that your fuzzy brain can scarcely make sense of. When he first came to you all those months ago, he stood at the edge of your bed—foreboding, looming taller than any beast you've ever seen or have yet to see since. You were only able to keep your brain awake long enough to make out the way his jaw dances beneath his mask to murmur the word perfect.

You think nothing of it until you start to wake up sore. It's more than odd bruises along your hips that sting when you poke them—it's the pounding in your head when you rouse, and the swelling of your cunt. Your lip is torn; split down the center. A curious tongue pokes at the blood that oozes from the crack, and it tastes suspiciously like love.

The next time he appears, he is on top of you. Hips pinning yours to the bed, hands on either side of your head, your body jostles. Every shockwave ripples through your body, shaking the fatty tissue along your thighs and stomach—you feel each thrust in your throat.

You groan, and he shushes you.

"Soon," he hisses. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, darkness consuming your vision, but not your hearing. "It'll take soon."

Countless nights pass like this. He comes to you, body joining with yours, murmuring things that aren't meant for human ears—that aren't meant for anyone corporeal. Each time you attempt to speak, you find your vocal cords painfully paralyzed. They die in your throat. Shrivel into useless tissue. All your questions bleed through your tongue to fester, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth when you wake.

He's not real—your little Ghost. Only the most concerning reoccurring dream you've ever been plagued with.

You tell your friends about this dream. About this strange man who haunts your psyche when you can't quite get your bearings. You speak of his mask, and how he pins you with his gaze alone; how real his hands feel on you. Embarrassment forces you to omit the sensation of his cock and how it pummels you, but share the odd wounds you wake up with. Bitten lips, raw skin.

Their gazes shame you, and you do not speak of it again.

Some childish part of you had hoped that these dreams would cease the moment you spoke them out loud, but Ghost is persistent. He comes again, and again, and again. Hot breath wheezing. Tight throat growling. Firm hands squeezing.

Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon.

There is one night when your dream verges on the edge of reality, finally granting you the opportunity to talk to him.

Your Ghost.

Body rocking, legs bent and hips widened, your chest heaves as you force your eyes open as your question expels from your throat:

"Real?"

Ghost freezes. He stares down at you with the same, dark eyes he always does, and you try your best to keep your gaze locked on him. A shaky hand rises off of the bed, fingertips kissing his clothed cheek as you groan.

"Are you... real...?"

Ghost shrugs your hand off of him. "Sleep."

Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you follow his order. Eyes fluttering shut, breath sighing from your nose, you allow slumber to capture you in her fickle grasp.

Though, you swear you feel clothed lips on yours and dull teeth piercing into your mouth before she can fully pull you under.

When Simon is finished with you, he stands at the edge of your bed like he usually does. Everything is tight. The knots that dot his back, the tension at the base of his skull—but everything feels quiet when he looks at you. There, in bed, ruined by him. Sleeping soundly, unaware of the apparition who's been taking you as his own for all these months.

Before he leaves, Simon pats the pocket of his jumper, and reminds himself to add more Benadryl powder to your sleepy-time tea mix before he leaves.

He can't have you asking questions like that again—not when he's too busy trying to make you his.

[joelsrose]

Stay

just something short and sweet before I go to bed ☁️

The room was dim, the last slivers of daylight bleeding through the boarded-up windows, casting long, jagged shadows over the battered walls. It had been a shit patrol. Not because of the infected—you’d handled that fine—but because of him.

Because of the way Joel never seemed to trust your calls, always thinking he knew best, always overruling you like you were some rookie when you’d been doing this just as long.

The disagreement had bled into everything, into the way you ignored him on the walk back, into the way you moved around the safe house now, stiff with frustration, jaw tight.

And Joel, of course, was as relaxed as ever, lounging back against the old couch, legs spread, arm slung across the backrest, watching you with that unreadable expression.

“Sit,” he commanded as you walked past. Just that. No softness in his tone, no coaxing. Just an order, like he expected you to obey.

You didn’t. You kept walking.

But before you could take another step, his hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist, strong and sure. The next thing you knew, the world tilted—your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled, his pull drawing you down before you could resist. You landed against him, awkwardly but undeniably, his arm already looping around your waist to steady you, keeping you there as you found yourself perched sideways on his lap.

His thigh was firm beneath you, the heat of him bleeding through the layers of fabric, grounding you, overwhelming you. Your side pressed against his chest, your hand instinctively bracing against his shoulder, but the tension in his hold left no room for escape. The scent of leather and wood smoke—so distinctly Joel—washed over you, making your thoughts scatter, your pulse quicken.

“Joel,” you breathed, the word shaky, your fingers twitching where they rested on him. You tried to push up, tried to create some distance, but his grip only tightened, his arm an iron band around your waist.

“Stay,” he said, his voice low, firm, and completely immovable. “And talk.”

Your heart stuttered, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once—the way you were perched awkwardly on his lap, his arm a solid weight around your waist, keeping you there like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could feel the warmth of him through every point of contact, the steadiness of his chest beneath your palm, the unrelenting grip of his hand on your hip. It was overwhelming, distracting, maddening.

“Joel,” you said, cheeks burning as you gestured to yourself, to the utterly inappropriate position he’d pulled you into. “Like this?” Your brows furrowed, incredulous, trying to inject some sense into the madness. “You want to talk like this?”

“Like this,” he repeated, his tone unbothered, calm, like he didn’t see a single thing wrong with it. If anything, there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his voice, as though he enjoyed watching you fluster and scramble for control.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, avoiding his gaze as you felt the heat climb higher in your cheeks.

“Like this,” he said again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he was daring you to challenge him, to push back against the closeness he’d so unapologetically created.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your words were lodged somewhere in your throat, your mind too clouded with the way his arm hadn’t budged, the way his voice seemed to settle low in your stomach, curling like heat.

“You seemed so angry a minute ago,” he murmured, his voice rough, steady. “Now you can’t even look at me?”

“I am angry,” you shot back, though the words sounded thin, wavering, even to your own ears.

“Not convincing,” he said, and damn him, he had the nerve to smirk. That cocky, lopsided smirk that made your stomach flip in a way you absolutely refused to acknowledge.

You bristled, heat flooding your face as you pushed against his chest, trying to get up, trying to put some distance between you and the unbearable tension simmering in the air. But his arm tightened, holding you in place like it was nothing, like you weren’t even trying.

“Joel,” you warned, voice sharp, though it faltered just slightly when his gaze pinned you, unrelenting and far too steady.

“Hmm?” he drawled, the sound low, infuriating, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you and didn’t care in the slightest.

“Let me go,” you said, though the words came out softer than you intended, betraying you.

And then, just as you opened your mouth to argue, to tell him off, he leaned in—slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you fall apart.

The air thickened, charged, and you froze, your breath catching as his face came closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint crease of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze flicked down, grazing over your parted mouth, and you knew—you knew—he was going to kiss you.

And you didn’t stop him.

His lips brushed yours, soft but deliberate, testing the waters in a way that made your pulse stutter and your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or hungry. It was worse.

Slow, tantalizing, a kiss that was all heat and restraint, one that made the tension in your stomach coil tighter, higher, until you swore you’d snap. The hand on your waist shifted, his fingers pressing firmer, pulling you just a breath closer as he deepened the kiss—not too much, not yet—but enough to leave you spinning, enough to steal the breath from your lungs and replace it with nothing but him.

And just as you started to lean in, as your body gave in without hesitation, he pulled back.

Your breath was unsteady, lips parted, cheeks burning as you blinked at him, stunned. And he had the audacity—the nerve—to look like that. That achingly tender smile curved his lips, boyish and mischievous, like he knew exactly what he’d done to you. Like he knew you’d play this moment over and over again in your head long after it was gone. It didn’t match the hard edges of his face, the weathered lines carved by time and grief and everything else that made him, him. But it was there, soft and devastating, and it made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

“Still mad?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, that smirk deepening as his hand caressed your waist, keeping you rooted firmly in place.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat felt dry, your heart a chaotic drumbeat in your chest. All you could do was sit there, flushed and silent, because you didn’t trust yourself to answer—not when your body had betrayed you so completely, melting into his as though it belonged there.

He didn’t need an answer, though. His gaze dropped, taking in the way you sat pliant and breathless, the way your fingers had curled instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like you didn’t want to let go.

His smirk softened, just barely, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist in a way that sent another shiver racing down your spine. “Didn’t think so,” he murmured, voice rough but warm, his gaze lingering on your face for just a moment longer before he finally leaned back, that maddening smile still tugging at his lips.

[apartmentsmoke]

"It's okay if it grows a little," Buck called.

Tommy flashed him a grin and hollered back, "That's what he said." Buck's lips opened, ready to retort that he likes it best when things grow a lot, but the sound of his mortal enemy made the words die on his tongue. Ever since they'd gotten back together, since Tommy had cautiously extended the invitation to his place more often and Buck had grabbed it with both hands, Buck had learned a few more things about his boyfriend. Namely, that he would pit Tommy against any suburban father in a World's Best Lawn competition. He was thinking about sending out fliers and charging for admission. Tommy loved his lawn. Buck had endured several lectures on what led to his choice to plant bahia grass, namely its drought-resistant qualities and ability to thrive in poor soil conditions. Every second Tuesday morning, like clockwork, he took out his lawn equipment and began a multi-hour routine that would have made his drill sergeant proud. The lawn was boring, and if Buck heard another word about humidity conditions and what that meant for the grass, he'd poke out his own eardrums. But it did have one notable benefit, one Buck could enjoy with his other senses. Tommy liked to do all his lawn work shirtless.

Buck's eyes followed a bead of sweat running down Tommy's arm, highlighting the sun-warmed skin. Damn. He'd already run off Mrs. Troutman from three doors down once this month, and he was gearing up to it again. Though she'd made some killer snickerdoodles at the recent neighborhood block party, the first one Buck had been to. Maybe he'd trade her some Tommy ogling for the recipe. He followed the drop all the way down to Tommy's fingers, curled around the handle of the power edger. Wished they were curled around his cock, but not even the idea of sweet, unhurried morning sex could keep Tommy from his lawn. Maybe after. Buck's eyes dropped to the flex of Tommy's ass in his pants, how each muscle expanded and contracted as Tommy pushed the mower along. If he'd had his way, he'd be between them, tongue pushed up against muscle, tasting each movement. And then there was the small of Tommy's back, the dimples there made for Buck to press his thumbs into. When he'd woken, he'd seen the faint impression left by the last bruises he'd made there. Couldn't forgot Tommy's spine, either, each knob of it. The ones he held tension in, the ones he liked to hinge when Buck told him to present himself. They all offered opportunity. For Tommy to contort himself just so, for Buck to mouth at or run his cock down before he reached the cleft of Tommy's ass. Buck glanced around for neighbors and adjusted himself in his shorts.

When he looked back up, it was to the sight of Tommy's front, his chest on full display. The sun brought out the pink in his nipples, Buck thought, and he wanted to suck the color right out of Tommy's skin. As Tommy walked his way, going over his work, Buck's gaze trailed the length of hair that ran down Tommy's stomach, watched as Tommy's movements changed how it was presented to him. Each minute motion made Buck's fingers twitch. He was desperate to run them down that path, claim the treasure it advertised.

Tommy's approach drawing closer, Buck began to make out his individual freckles, the ones he'd made into constellations with his tongue. That damn edger, Buck thought wildly, it was the one keeping him from Tommy - aptly named machine - "Join me in the shower after I put this up?" Tommy called, holding the edger on his shoulders like a mountain man held an axe. Buck ached to lick between his pecs, the valley shiny with exertion. "Be right there," he said, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting up in his eagerness.

[pukefactory]

Astro x Reader headcanons please :]

Thank you!!

Certainly! I hope all you Astro fans enjoy these.

──✩₊⁺⋆ LATE NIGHT DELIGHT ⋆⁺₊✧──

⏾⋆.˚ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Astro as your boyfriend

⏾⋆.˚ Character(s): Astro Novalite (Dandy’s World)

⏾⋆.˚ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⏾⋆.˚ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✦ Astro is naturally a solitary toon, but after meeting you, he gradually started to open up, especially in your presence. Even if you’re not particularly outgoing yourself, you bring him a sense of comfort that makes him more willing to be honest and expressive. When you’re around, his anxiety feels less overwhelming, and the world becomes a little less daunting. For that, he is endlessly grateful, even if you never realize just how much of a difference you make. Your presence alone allows him to feel more at ease, making conversations with others feel less intimidating.

✦ If you struggle with insomnia, Astro has an almost magical ability to help you fall asleep effortlessly and stay asleep for hours. He insists he doesn’t have any special talents in this regard, but you strongly disagree. On restless nights, he will lay beside you, humming gentle lullabies that lull you into a deep, peaceful sleep. His voice is soothing, and combined with his countless soft blankets and the cozy atmosphere of his room, it doesn’t take long before you drift off. Once he knows you’re asleep, he isn’t opposed to pressing a light kiss to your forehead, a quiet gesture of affection.

✦ Since being with Astro, your dreams have become significantly more pleasant, and you have no doubt that he’s the reason. Your nights are filled with warmth, love, and familiarity—most of your dreams consist of simple yet meaningful adventures with him, sometimes even mundane, but that’s exactly what makes them so special. For Astro, joy is found in the little things, and with dreams like these, sleep no longer feels like an obstacle but rather a comforting escape.

✦ One day, Tegan casually mentions that Astro loves iced tea, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You eagerly ask Tegan to teach you how to make it, determined to surprise Astro with his favorite drink. It takes a few attempts to perfect the recipe, but learning from the best (and doing it for someone you love) keeps you motivated. When you finally get it right, you present the drink to Astro, who looks both surprised and touched. The moment he takes a sip, his expression softens in pure delight. As you recount your efforts—how you learned of his taste, how Tegan guided you—you swear you catch the faintest hint of a deep blue blush behind his shy smile. It’s clear that this will become a new tradition.

✦ Iced tea isn’t his only favorite drink. On occasion, you’ve noticed him sitting alone, quietly sipping a cup of hot cocoa, lost in thought. Inspired, you decide to make some for both of you, and thanks to your training with Tegan, the result is nothing short of perfection. This quickly turns into a cherished ritual—sitting together under a shared blanket, sipping hot chocolate, and gazing at the stars through Gardenview’s glass ceiling. You don’t speak much during these moments, but words aren’t necessary. The comfortable silence says everything.

✦ Astro has an aversion to being photographed, and you respect that boundary without question. Still, you find yourself wishing for keepsakes—memories you can revisit in a tangible way. So, you get creative. Regardless of your artistic skill, you begin drawing moments you’ve shared together in place of traditional photos. When Astro discovers what you’re doing, he chuckles softly, clearly flustered but also deeply touched by your effort to preserve your time together. Before long, he joins in, helping you color and decorate the sketches, occasionally even drawing a few himself. Eventually, your collection of drawings grows too large to keep in one place, but Brightney comes to the rescue, gifting you a photo album to store them in. You often find yourself flipping through it alone, reminiscing on the countless memories with both love and amusement. However, what you don’t expect is to stumble upon a hidden drawing tucked inside—one that you didn’t make. It’s a picture of the two of you, surrounded by crudely drawn hearts, in what appears to be a marriage ceremony. The realization sends your heart racing. It seems Astro has been thinking about your future together more than he lets on.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Psst, hey

Doey and/in the snow

Do something with that

Also it's obviously gonna be platonic with reader

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

Sypnosis [Many kinds of fun exists, but it can rank even lower on the list for Doey when it comes to snowy fun.]

Character [Doey]

Note || aweee, this is cute :3

The morning air was crisp as you and Doey stepped outside of the house. The cold seemed to blanket everything in a soft, calming quiet, a welcome relief after the months of turmoil. It was the first snowfall of the season, a light dusting of white that kissed the earth gently, as if the world itself had exhaled, weary but at peace for the first time in a long while. Doey, with his plump, colorful form and his signature blue bowler hat, looked as though he were made for days like this.

You had been looking forward to this moment. The factory, the horrors that lay within, seemed a world away as you found a sense of solace in the simplicity of the present. And now, the decision had been made—today was for fun. No tasks, no survival strategies, just a day of playing in the snow with Doey.

Actually, just no chaos or violence anymore. Which was a major relief.

"Let's make the best of it," you said softly, feeling the weight of the world lift slightly from your shoulders. Doey, his light blue face brightening with a wide, carefree smile, gave an enthusiastic nod.

"Snow! Snow is fun!" he said, his voice filled with that playful, youthful enthusiasm that had long been a comfort in this strange new world you had found yourself in. He clumsily waddled beside you, his stubby red legs making a little squeaky sound in the snow with every step. His long arms swayed to and fro, the orange left arm and yellow right arm creating a strange rhythm in the otherwise silent landscape.

You couldn't help but chuckle as he kicked at the snow with his short legs, sending tiny clouds of it into the air. It was such a simple, innocent thing, but it made your heart feel lighter to see Doey enjoying himself. He was a survivor, much like you. In a world full of uncertainty, days like today reminded you that there were still fragments of joy to be found.

As the two of you walked deeper into the snowy expanse, Doey stopped suddenly and looked around, his eyes—just holes on his face—shifting curiously.

"What's that?" Doey asked, his voice shifting from playful to a more cautious tone. You followed his gaze, seeing the distant shapes of trees, their branches weighed down by the snow. Nothing seemed out of place, yet something about the stillness of the landscape seemed almost…too perfect.

"It's nothing," you replied, your hand instinctively tightening around the strap of your bag. The weight of your past decisions always seemed to hover just out of sight, but today, you pushed it aside. Today was for fun.

Doey smiled again, nodding in understanding. He waddled ahead, his arms swaying behind him as he broke into a run, his stubby red legs barely able to keep up with the motion. You chuckled and followed, catching up quickly. You both reached a clearing where a small snowbank had formed, and Doey wasted no time in making a mound of snow with his arms. He stopped and turned to you, grinning widely.

"Snowman!" Doey exclaimed, his voice gleeful. "Let's make a snowman!"

You laughed again, the sound echoing in the quiet world around you. "Alright, let's do it," you said, kneeling down beside him.

And so you both set to work, Doey's arms moving with surprising dexterity for such a strange shape, piling up snow in little clumps and patting them into place. Together, you created a rather odd, but delightful, snowman—Doey's creation, complete with a makeshift blue bowler hat and an oversized smile.

Doey stood back and admired his work, his orange and yellow arms folding in an exaggerated, self-satisfied gesture. "Perfect!" he cheered, his voice ringing with pride.

You grinned. "It is perfect," you agreed.

But as you both stood there, a slight breeze stirred the snow, and the peaceful quiet that had filled the air seemed to shift. You glanced over at Doey, who was now standing still, his long arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"Doey," you said softly, your voice taking on a more serious tone. "I know we're having fun today, but you know there's still a lot of work to do, right?"

The work in question was moreover the fact that it was getting the toys acquiesced to living in your house, which wasn’t necessarily a means of the biggest luxury in existence; but it was yours, and now—

The toys as well.

He nodded, his smile flickering for a moment. "I know," he said in that surprisingly mature voice of his. "But sometimes, we need to remember the good things too. We can't just focus on the bad... or the hard parts. We need to remind ourselves that there's joy in the world, even when things seem dark."

His words struck a chord with you. It was easy to get lost in the weight of everything—survival, the factory, the toys and experiments that still roamed the halls of that cursed place—but Doey was right. Even in the darkest of times, there was light. And it was in these moments, with him by your side, that you were reminded of that.

"You're right," you said softly, feeling a weight you hadn't even realized you were carrying begin to lift. "We can't forget about the good things."

Doey beamed. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Snow is good. Friends are good. Fun is good!"

You laughed, and for a moment, the world felt as it should—simple, pure, and free from the chaos that had long defined your existence. The snow fell lightly around you, the soft flakes drifting down like whispers of a better world, a world that, for this one moment, felt like it could be yours.

As the day stretched on, you and Doey played in the snow—throwing snowballs, making snow angels, and running through the cold, the chill never seeming to bother either of you. Doey's laughter filled the air, a sound so pure that it made the cold seem warm.

In the distance, you could hear the faint whisper of the wind, but it was nothing more than a background hum. Today, it was just you, and Doey, and the snow. For the first time in a long time, the world felt safe. And for a brief, shining moment, you could forget everything else.

And as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snowy landscape, you knew that no matter what the future held, you had this moment—this day with Doey—in your heart. It was enough.

[bravo666]

insecurity

price x reader

you don’t really get why he picked you.

it’s not really his fault that you’re confused. when you manage to ask why you—letting insecurity fizzle up and rise like ginger beer in your stomach—john tells you all the right things, the things that you would expect: you’re beautiful, a sight for sore eyes, his one and only. “oh, sweetheart,” he says, and his soft brow furrows with something that brushes close to pity, his only wish for you to see what he sees in you. you look into those blue eyes and try to catch the curve of your own reflection.

it’s good. really, it is. his murmured praise and whiskered kisses make that insecurity die down and grow flat for a time. john loves you. you hold fast to that.

but, sometimes, you just can’t make sense of it.

something else that isn’t his fault: john’s a certain kind of man. a man’s man, one might say. being a military captain has that effect, though you can almost imagine a newborn john price coming out of the womb gruff, bristled, and with bad knees. he’s the type of man who has opinions on alcohol and cares a lot about how his favorite football club fares this season. his ideal future involves a dog, a yard, and a run of children, and he’s not shy about it.

you’ve known men like that before. moreover, you’ve known their wives—and it always is their wives, not partners or anything as newfangled as that. they’re not all the same—nice women, rude women, pretty or plain—but there are certain qualities that they all share. housewives in spirit, chins raised. pampered. manicured. best in show. knows when to nod and smile and give her man a knowing look. the missus.

it’s safe to say that you don’t quite feel like you measure up to the mold. you have edges, hard and frayed, that don’t fit into the soft mold of the person you feel that john wants. it’s just not very you. your anger, your anxiety, your hard-headedness, your tears: none of these feel like something cute—so why does he coo over you like it is? it’s not even that john wants something else; from the warm spot you occupy by his side, you can see the way the road maps out before him in his eyes, contextless and spit-shined.

(dinner burns in the oven. he says it’s okay, that you’ll get it right next time. these things happen. don’t get upset, sweetheart, i’m not mad while he holds you round the middle.)

you labor over these thoughts, rolling them between your hands with the biscuit dough you knead out. the question remains: why, exactly, did john price pick you to lay his head down besides when the world is teeming with more eligible candidates?

an answer comes when you meet his team for the first time. they arrive for dinner after john and them have been off on a short deployment—you promised john a roast when he got back because a little extra motivation for him to come home in one piece can’t hurt, and one of them must have overheard it turned into them inviting themselves over—and soon you’re putting faces to names that have lived only in john’s all-too-brief stories. you greet them all as they arrive at the door to john and your’s home: handsome kyle and boisterous johnny and quiet, intense simon. normal men, you think—well, barring the balaclava simon won’t take off, but at least you were forewarned about that. normal soldiers.

but then the five of you sit down to eat, and—well, it’s still normal. except it isn’t. It’s impossible to explain, and you’re sure that if you tried to talk to john about it, he’d laugh a little and say i don’t know what you mean, lovie, but you’re quietly sure you see something in the way they all lean their shoulders to your john. a deferential quality, even subconsciously, one that stretches beyond what you think is typical for a commanding officer to hold with his subordinates. it’s in the way simon pauses and flicks his eyes to john, waiting for a tiny nod before he rolls the bottom half of the balaclava up to eat, or how kyle sits on john’s right and keeps passing him the food first, or even the way johnny straightens his spine a little when john nods at something the lad said mid-story, the sergeant all puffed up with pride.

and when the boys break the scotch out near the end of the night and the lips get looser, it’s not hard to guess why.

“price picked me. i felt like my hands were tied in my old life, and he gave me a new one.”

“‘e’s a good captain. not many other men can see past all the shite and cut to the ‘eart of what matters.”

“aye, the captain? ah’m wi’ him all the wey, the surly bas’. made me the soldier ah am today.”

you sip your own glass and the room feels just a little bit smaller as the boys banter on. they owe him their lives, they say, before segueing into hey remember whens and ribbing laughter. your boyfriend catches your eye across the table, your place among his boys, with a smile.

he’s a man’s man. good with his hands. you should have realized that he had a knack for fixer uppers.

(after dinner, he slides an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your hair. “thank you for dinner, love,” he says, and when you’re pulled into his chest like this, the rumble of his voice tucks itself away into your bones.

“of course,” you say, and then, “john?”

“yes, lovie?”

“why… why did the boys invite themselves over?

he chuckles like you’ve told a joke, and you’re half expecting him to say silly rabbit. but instead, he just leans back and grants himself enough access to smooth down the back of your shirt and gently re-tightens the strings of your apron, his favorite of the ones that he’s gotten you.

“well, love,” john hums, “what can i say? they all just wanted to meet the missus.”)

[glowettee]

the secret to taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖°

hey lovelies! mindy heree <3

for this post i'm superrr excited to share a guide on taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖° trust me, i know how overwhelming it can get when it feels like you're stuck in the middle of endless textbooks and dry lecture slides (honestly, we all have those days). so, let's transform your note taking into something delightful, empowering, and totally reflective of your unique self.

✧ finding your vibe first things first, bestie: the key here is to make your notes feel personal and inspiring. rather than sticking to a rigid system, i suggest mixing a little structure with a whole lot of creativity. here are some steps to help you set up your perfect note taking vibe:

choose your medium: even if it’s a cute pastel notebook, sticky notes, or a digital app with fun themes, pick something that sparks joy and invites you to open it up. i personally love notion + remnote + coda

establish sections: break your notes into clear sections. introduction, main points, and summary. this not only boosts organization but also gives you a gratifying sense of progress every time you finish a page.

add your signature touch: doodles, small illustrations, or even a decorative border can make a note feel less like a chore and more like a mini art project. i love using aesthetic symbols for my digital notes <3

✧ creating a study ritual i believe that great notes come from a relaxed and focused mind. try integrating these rituals into your study sessions to set a positive tone, this is really important if you want to make note-taking fun:

begin with a short breathing exercise or a moment of gratitude (think of it as your pre-study pep talk).

play some light instrumental music or your favorite lo-fi beats, or playlist. something to keep your mind in a creative zone without distractions. (i have a great playlist i made that i use for tackling assignments here: 𝒸���𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀! <3)

grab your favorite beverage (i’m a fan of herbal tea or a cute iced coffee) and make sure you're comfortable. a little self-care goes a long way!

✧ structuring your notes for clarity a well-organized layout makes reviewing notes less daunting and more interactive. and obviously so much more fun, consider using this format for a balanced + demureee approach:

start with a title and date: it grounds your notes and gives you a quick reference.

write a brief summary of the topic: in your own words, capture the essence of what you’re about to learn. just summarize it as best as possible

list key points: use bullet points, numbered lists, or even headers for different subtopics. tip: use cute symbols for bullet points

highlight examples: it can be a quote, a definition, or an application concept, mark these with a star or a cute icon.

close with a reflection: jot down any questions, what you found most interesting, or even a mini action item related to the topic. this is your space for self-talk and reflection.

✧ turning notes into interactive canvases (cause we need it) notes aren’t meant to be static pages floating in an endless binder. make them interactive to truly boost your study sessions:

include thought-provoking questions: ask yourself things like “what would elle woods do?” (lol, we love her <3) or “how does this connect with real life?” to spark critical thinking.

add mini quizzes: at the end of each section, write one or two questions that challenge you to recall key points.

leave room for updates: as you learn more, come back and add extra notes, doodles, or even inspirational stickers (yes, just like in a scrapbook!).

✧ personal tips from mindy because i want you to shine in every note you take, here are my totally secret, fun tips to elevate your note routine:

secret tip #1: color with purpose choose a color palette that not only looks cute but also maps out different themes in your subject. use one color for definitions, another for examples, and maybe a sparkly tone for key takeaways. over time, these colors will trigger your memory (i promise, it really works!).

secret tip #2: integrate affirmations studying can be stressful sometimes, so why not lace your notes with a few tender affirmations? write a quick pep talk (like “i got this, bestie” or “every detail counts”) in a corner. it might seem small, but these little lines can boost your confidence when you need it most. and it's just so freaking cute <3 affirmations from you to you, is like a love letter to yourself, so just try it

secret tip #3: try mind mapping if you’re more of a visual learner, create mind maps instead of linear notes. start with the main topic in the center and branch out with related ideas and details. this not only makes your notes dynamic but also helps you see connections between concepts (ever notice how some subjects just click with a visual flow?).

secret tip #4: use digital tools creatively if you’re leaning towards digital note taking, like me, experiment with apps that support drawing, voice notes, and even embedded links. add images that resonate with the topic or short videos for a quick concept refresher. making your digital notebook interactive can really keep boredom at bay.

secret tip #5: schedule weekly note reviews set aside a bit of time every week to revisit your notes. treat it as a mini self-study session where you update, add reflections, or even reorganize sections for clarity. this habit not only reinforces your learning but also lets you see your own progress over time, like looking back on how far you’ve come.

✧ action items for the week (it's homework timeee) to wrap things up, here are a few steps to try:

pick one class or topic this week and redo your notes using one or two of these tips (maybe add a mind map or a quick quiz).

experiment with color coding: choose colors that resonate with you and assign them to key points or sections.

schedule a 10-minute review session at the end of the week to refresh and reflect on your notes.

share your progress with a friend or even a study group to celebrate little victories. accountability can boost your motivation!

note: note taking is a creative process that should feel as refreshing and inspiring as a new day. keep experimenting until you find what truly works for you. i hope these tips help you get excited about every page you write on.

xoxo, mindy

I made this amazzinggg playlist (as mentioned earlier in the post) and its specifically made to help you complete homework + assignments. i curated it to make sure its soft music to help you focus <3 love from mindyyy 🩷

don't forget, if you need personal advice, submit it here and i'll answer it as a detailed tumblr blog post <3: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[icallhimjoey]

I miss poppy and mark still and I miss that version of joe (and always bookstore joe) but that joe please he was such an idiot😭 I miss him and this is all your fault (said with so much love bye going to reread everything (again))

ok so it took me a good second, but, here you go bby <3 to the girls unfamiliar with poppy and mark: maybe have a look here Wordcount: 2.3K

---

Won’t Say It Until You Will

Sometimes you still don’t quite understand how you’ve gone literal years thinking Joe couldn’t fucking stand you.

You’d gotten so used to his stand-offish demeanor. To the arrogant smirks you’d catch just before he’d bite them back, just in time for Poppy or Mark to notice. To his overall unapproachability, and the heavy judgment that would drip off of him.

For years you thought you didn’t like Joe, simply because you were convinced Joe didn’t like you.

Didn’t like you as a person.

As Mark’s friend.

As someone that, through Mark falling for Poppy, was going to be in his life now.

You think you’re still adjusting to the sudden change. And the change was definitely sudden. Learning that, actually, Joe was trying to keep as much distance as he possibly could for the exact opposite of what you thought had been quite the shock. You might be adjusting for a while longer, still.

Which makes sense.

It is all quite the adjustment.

Joe used to be so weird around you, and you were always left to figure out why all by yourself.

The big difference now, though, is that every time Joe sees that you doubt yourself in whatever interaction you have with him, he’s quick to set the record straight.

He’s not allowed to say I love you yet.

You have to say it first for it to feel normal. Granted, barely anything about how this started feels normal to begin with. But this is something you hold onto. You tell him to shut up all the time, because you have come to know this look Joe will throw you.

This soft, adoring sort of dreamy stare Joe has a hard time containing. It’s truly quite something to be looked at like you’re the single best thing in current existence to someone. Like you’ve got shimmery diamonds and liquid gold where your heart should be.

It’s a shame it makes you frown the way it does.

“Shut up.” You’ll warn before he’s even gotten the chance to say anything.

And Joe used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

That has since changed to a very dopey, a very smiley, “Okay.” that makes your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will, no matter how many times the words will pop into his head and will beg to be released into your ears via his mouth. It’s nothing short of agony, because there’s moments where you’ll look at him like you used to. Before. When he kept his distance and would say the wrong thing, crack an unfunny joke that accidentally hurt your feelings, and – God, if he could just say those words and put your mind at ease the way the so desperately wants to...

He’s found different ways.

Has had to find different ways.

If you can’t hear the words, that’s fine. He’ll make you feel them just the same.

When you get into bed, one night, over at Joe’s place, you suddenly pause, halfway in.

“What?” Joe asks, already sort of smiling at your expression as he slides his legs under the covers on his side of the bed.

“Remember when...” you start, and immediately Joe’s aware that this can go one of two ways. You could either end up a giggling heap underneath the covers, or he’s going to end up kissing you silly to reassure every doubt from your mind.

You glance at one of his wardrobe doors and squint your eyes a little.

Joe’s scared it’s going to be the latter of the two options.

“I’ve actually never seen you wear that shirt again– have you...” you don’t finish whatever you were about to ask, and instead walk around the bed to check something. To see for yourself.

“What shirt?” Joe asks, sat up in bed, both hands in his lap over the covers, tongue pushing into his cheek as he watches you open the wardrobe.

You’re met with a meticulously well-organised row of shirts, jackets– Joe’s even got all of his trousers and jeans folded over hangers. All pressed and ironed, ready to make Joe look far smarter than he’ll feel.

You used to fall for it all the time, but you’ve since learned to see through most of it.

“How often do you get rid of clothes?” you ask, hands filtering through.

“All the time,” Joe says a little sheepishly, and jokingly adds, “You know I really only like... three things.”

Joe watches you filter through hangers at lightning speed, metal wire gliding over the rod and clanging together in your search.

You’re looking for something specific. Unsure of what made the thought pop into your head, you’d just remembered a specific shirt Joe wore once and wanted to see if he still had it. If there was maybe a reason why you hadn’t seen him wear it ever since that one night.

And, morning.

“Hmm... it’s not here.”

“What shirt are you even talking about?”

 You throw Joe a look over your shoulder, eyes squinted, and for a moment you look like you’re contemplating something. Like you’re milling something over.

Then, suddenly, Joe gets it. He knows exactly what you’re looking for, and is immediately embarrassed.

“Oh. Yea, no. Do you mean the white– my white button down? I, um… that shirt, it’s… you’re right, it’s not– it’s not there.”

Joe stutters through a bad excuse, and for an actor, he’s a fucking terrible liar. You shove aside some of his jackets, and then…

“Come back to bed, please.”

There it is.

The white button down shirt you were looking for.

You grab the hanger and pull it out, ready to happily show Joe you found it, but as you move the fabric into the light, you notice it.

See it.

“Found i– oh, my God…”

This is the shirt Joe wore to Mark and Poppy’s wedding shower. The one he said he’d get dry cleaned after he wiped your face with the sleeve, after he dabbed both your make-up covered cheeks. The one of which he’d pulled the cuff into his palm to get the fabric real close under your eyes to get rid of the wet mascara that had traveled there through tears.

You’d shown him the brown and black marks right after he’d done it, and he’d said he was going to get it dry-cleaned.

“Joe, what the…”

You’re holding a dirty shirt.

Had this stains not come out?

Clearly not.

You’re both looking at a dirty shirt. At old make-up stains that… well, this shirt is ruined. Your eyes quickly glance at the tag in the collar, and you wince.

That is too expensive of a brand for a shirt to be ruined like this.

This is the reason why you hadn’t seen Joe wear it again.

You’d ruined his shirt.

God, and you had even told him that next day, that next morning, that a regular cycle in a machine wash was going to get the stains out fine.

Obviously, it hadn’t.

Because you’re staring at caked blotches of bronzer and dark streaks of mascara and– ... you can feel how you shrink in on yourself, stood there, in his bedroom, with a stupidly expensive badly stained shirt he’d been hiding from you because he hadn’t been able to get it clean and–

Upon the sight of your face dropping, Joe gets out of bed, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Um.. I’ll have that.”

Two slow hands come into vision and carefully take the hanger from your grip.

“Thanks.”

The shirt, in all its dirty glory, gets gently put back in its place, hidden behind Joe’s jackets, before Joe closes the wardrobe doors entirely.

“Sorry,” is all you can think to say, voice small, a little wobbly. “I’m sorry, I thought… I ruined your shirt. That should’ve come out in the wash. Sorry. I will– I’ll replace it. I’ll–”

“No you won’t.”

You drop both your shoulders just as Joe grabs hold of both of them. His grip is strong enough to bring you into the room a bit more.

“And don’t look at me like that. I didn’t… that’s… I’ve never washed it.”

What?

“You didn’t ruin the shirt. It’s just unwashed.”

Joe softly chuckles at your face and you get lead back to bed as you try to puzzle together what you’ve just been told. What that even means.

There had been plenty of whispered conversations, late at night chats in the dark, where Joe would reassure you that he had never hated you. The outward dislike had always been an awful way to hide how he really felt, and Joe was going to be kicking himself until the end of time for how that had always make you feel.

Joe is never going to be able to make it right, he thinks.

But he can fucking try.

“That’s…”

“Disgusting? Yes. Absolutely.”

He’ll die trying.

“Why haven’t you…”

You’re scared to finish the question because you fear you already know the answer.

“Didn’t want to. So don’t worry about it.”

You get tucked in as your worries easily get dismissed, but it’s difficult to make your confused frown disappear.

Joe sighs when you keep looking at him like that, sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and goes, “You’ll make fun of me. But... that’s the… that’s what I wore when you slept in my bed for the first time. It’s not ruined. Washing it would ruin it, actually.”

Everything about that is confusing and will take a minute or two for you to process. Now, here, in the moment, it just makes you grimace with horror, and that in and of itself makes Joe laugh. Makes his eyes twinkle as he bites into his lip, head titled back and to the side a little.

He can’t really help it.

“To be fair... you were never meant to find that. Can you not tell Poppy?”

“Okay. I won’t tell Poppy.” You easily agree.

“But you’ll tell Mark?”

“But I’ll tell Mark.”

Joe drops his head forward in a silent laugh. Of course you will tell Mark.

And, that’s fine. Because it’s a memory he’ll cherish forever, even if you were violently drunk that night, and your hair still smelt of vomit even though Mark’s mum had really done her best to rinse most of it out. You had found Joe’s bed on your own, and had pulled him in to nap with you and– ...he doesn’t think that it was the exact moment where things changed a little, but it was a moment momentous enough to want to keep a souvenir.

It’s why he never washed the dirty button down shirt that proved to him he hadn’t dreamt it up.

He’ll never tell you how he also still has the empty yoghurt carton he had found in his kitchen after you’d left the next morning.

And he’ll also ignore the weird fall out you had after when he lied to Poppy about it. That’s not part of the memory.

Only the good stuff.

Like how he’d barely slept at all.

How he’d gotten to stare at you all night long.

How he’d finally, after hours of collecting courage, had softly let one of his fingertips stroke along the skin of your arm.

How that made you hum contently in your sleep.

If he thinks about it for too long, he could easily make himself cry. Looking at you now, all relaxed into the pillows of his bed, he could make himself cry.

When Joe looks at you a little too long without saying anything, dopey grin and all, your frown only deepens.

“Shut up.”

Joe knows it was bound to be said, but it still tickles him and he lets a throaty laugh escape him before he turns faux-serious.

“Ah. It’s made a return.” Joe scans your features and talks like he’s in a film, speaking to a villain. “That face. Are you even aware of how powerful it is? Makes me feel how much my soul wants to escape my body.”

That gets a little grin out of you, and it’s cute enough for Joe to want to tell the whole entire world how much he loves you. He wonders if you know how much it pains him. How often he can feel the scratch of the words in his throat, the violent urge to just let them free ever present.

But he won’t.

You’d just told him to shut up, so he will shut up, and instead will let those three words seep out in other ways. Through his hands that wander up to your neck. Through his fingers that swipe under your jaw, tipping your head back a little so he can easily kiss you.

You happily accept his kisses, because even though you’re still adjusting to all these little changes in your truth, it all ultimately means that Joe really, really likes you.

Really, really, really likes you.

And of course you know it’s more than that to Joe.

And that he really wants to tell you already.

But he’s not allowed.

Not yet.

Which is fine. He can just kiss you. And he will. Like he’s doing right now.

Joe still can’t quite believe he’s kissing you in his bed, and he can’t believe there was ever a time where he wasn’t.

When he pulls back, still sat on the side instead of under the covers with you, he hovers over you a little. Gives you a quiet moment, just in case you want to tell him.

And you will.

With time.

But not now.

“Shut up.” you repeat, giggling now at how lovesick he looks, and Joe can’t help grin in the way that he does.

He used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

Instead he says, “Okay.” and goes for another kiss when he sees your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will.

---

The Taglisted

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Add yourself

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY NINTH; side b — secret love song - little mix | r. cameron x maybank!reader

w; intended to be s1 rafe — but also can be any season you’d prefer for this, this doesn’t follow any events of outer banks (just the characters and the pogues vs kooks thing), maybe a bit ooc!rafe? i’m not sure, slight mentions of john b & reader as well, cheating 😔, this is a bit short — not sure how i feel about this one </3 !! i always try to use few to no pronouns or descriptions for r — can be adopted or half sibling! whatever you'd prefer <3 an; love this song and i also thought of rafe and then bam it came to me.

mixtape here!

John Booker Routledge had been one of your favorite people ever since you had been younger — besides your brother. 

The three of you attached by the hip, the three troublemakers you had been so lovingly called. And knowing him since you were all little tots, only to blossom into a young adult, it was only normal to develop a small crush that had JJ gagging every time he noticed where your eyes lingered. 

And it was only normal for him to be your first kiss. 

It was strange. Not that he wasn’t a decent kisser, it just felt…void of something. You weren't sure why it had felt that way, especially when you felt a small amount of jealousy whenever he tended to stray his attention away from you and to Sarah instead. 

It was confusing as much as it was aggravating. 

But, Rafe Cameron, the one person who had made everyone’s life worse just by looking at them with baby blues and a smug smirk, took you by complete surprise. 

In the sense that when he kissed you, it never felt null of anything. Even after he had pulled away, you could still feel the phantom of his lips brushing over your own. 

It also took you by complete surprise because you’re both supposed to keep a distance due to ‘image’ — something you’d always thought was ridiculous, but also never really breaking away from the hate you’re supposed to have for Kooks. 

For Rafe Cameron. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, or even show him an ounce of faux hatred even if you tried. 

Midnight was your favorite time. Because exactly when the numbers turned to 12, there would be a small tap at your window. Because if he were to knock on the door at this time, Luke would have probably shot him, or JJ would have no problem throwing punches and taking them. 

It was best to stay a secret, even if you hate it. And even if you want others to see the love you both have for one another. 

The tapping catches your attention, a small smile tugging on your lips when you close your book and crawl off the bed and quietly make your way towards the window, pushing the sheer curtains back before unlocking the window and pushing it up. 

Glancing back at the door to keep an eye out, you allow him to grip your arms as he slips inside your room as quietly as possible — he’s gotten better with sneaking in — before turning and closing your window slowly. 

His hand is a bit cold when it wraps around the side of your neck, causing you to gasp and shiver as you look at him quickly. “Rafe!” You whisper sharply, trying to push at his arm. He smirks slightly, pulling you closer and pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. “Why are your hands so cold?” You mumble. 

“It’s freezing outside, sweetheart. What do you expect?” He snorts quietly. You smile a bit, taking his hand from your neck, sandwiching it between both of your own the best you could. His eyes are soft as they watch you. “You coming tomorrow?” 

“Hm?” You look up at him. “Oh, yeah. JJ wanted to go,” You shake your head slightly, reaching for the other one. “Figured he would anyway when he heard about it.”

Rafe nods a bit and pushes away a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You wanna lie down?” You nod and pull him towards your bed, scooting close to the wall as he slides in after kicking off his shoes. You scoot up a bit, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to you the best you could. 

He hums and lies his head against your chest, ear placed over where you heartbeat, slipping his eyes closed and melting into the bed when your fingers begin to scratch against his scalp. His fingers rest against your side, twitching every so often. 

It’s silent for a while, except for the beat of your heart, loud and comforting, in his ear. His eyes then slide open and he pulls his head away from your chest to stare down at you instead. 

Your eyes are pointed upwards at the ceiling and he can tell by the small scrunch of your brows, you're worrying yourself sick over something. You flinch at the sudden touch of his fingertips running over the lines that had been between your brows. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers softly. You glance over at him and tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you think of what to say. Tracing his finger down the slope of your nose before pushing his fingers into the strands of your hair, he gives you a slight worried look. 

“You can tell me whatever is on your mind, you know that, right?” 

Nodding, you sigh quietly. “Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Is what always going to be like this?” 

“You and I. This. Us,” You say as if it’s obvious because, well, it is obvious. “Having only a short amount of time together, or having to…rush date night and act as if we’re with someone else,” You shake your head. 

“It’s…I love you and I want to be able to love you freely — not privately and only a certain amount of time.” 

He frowns and drops his forehead against yours gently, nudging your nose against his. “You know I love you, right?” Your eyes drift away from his. He frowns when he notices your eyes become wet with tears. “Right? Hey,” 

Your eyes hesitantly drift back to his face. His thumb drags over your cheekbone softly. “I do love you. A lot,” He nods. “We’ll tell people. But now is not the right time.” 

“When will it be the right time?” Your brows pinch together as you stare up at him. 

His lips press into yours — a soft kiss, and a gentle hold with his hand — before pulling away slowly, his thumb pressing gently into your chin. “Soon.” He whispers against your lips. 

Which is why, when you look for him everywhere (just for a quick, shared look), you're confused when you see him pressed close to some brunette. 

Even more confused when they both laugh together and she presses a hand against his chest. 

 Now you’re frozen when he’s leaning in and kissing her — a bit too fiercely for a party in front of people. Your eyes and they drift down towards the coffee table in between the spread out teens. 

There’s some substance on some type of gold tray with other various items around it on display. Your eyes quickly look back up, watching as he finally pulls away from her, smirking as he leans back and looks ahead. 

His smug demeanor drops when he sees your face. Rafe is quick on his feet when you turn away from him, pushing past people to get outside and find JJ, John B, and Pope and leave. 

You hear his voice calling out for you, anger thrumming through your bones. Once you step outside, Rafe is suddenly closer than you realize, his hand brushing your arm. 

You turn and smack him before you could catch yourself. The sound catches the onlookers from outside, lifting some brows.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Rafe. I swear—”

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what—”

You cut him off with a crazed laugh, pushing him by his chest. He allows you to push him around. “You didn’t know that you were making out with someone else?! What, you thought it was me, huh? Is that your excuse!” Your brows are furrowed in anger, your cheeks flushed and wet with tears as you stare up at him. 

He opens his mouth to speak, shaking his head, but someone is cutting in, calling out your name. “You okay?” John B. 

“I want to go home,” You turn towards him. Rafe calls out your name, eyes wide and desperate. “JB, please. Take me home.” Your voice is raw and it eats away at Rafe’s heart. Because instead of you turning to him, you’re turning back to John B to comfort you. 

All because he was an idiot. 

John B glances at Rafe, a small look on his face has you stepping closer to him, shaking your head, glancing over your shoulder at him. “He’s not worth it,” Rafe’s jaw clenches as he stares at you. You look away and pass by John B, walking towards where he had parked. 

JJ had gone somewhere with Pope, more than likely crashing at his place after. John B had decided to stay with you until you had calmed down, allowing you to talk and get everything off your chest. 

He listened and never once judged you. 

So, why is it when you kiss John Booker Routledge — again — you feel null of any emotion?

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sereneera — @dearestjune — @sstar-ggirl

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[drabbletron]

Domesticity and Other Distractions: Hound x Reader fic (PART 3)

|| Another short one, but the next part will be longer and focus on how friendship turned into romantic inclinations for reader and Hound. I really do love that mech lol ||

p fluffy under the cut

mentions of a sucky ex

“Looks cozy,” Hound takes a moment to step inside where the carpet sinks beneath him. It’s like walking around in a meadow after a fresh rain and the earth is soft and malleable. He moves through the space and inspects every inch he can and just finds more and more things that fit your personality. The little trinkets that line your bookshelf, the wall art and posters, the color of the curtains and the things that hang from the ceiling. All of it is so undeniably you and he can’t get enough of this place, so alien and yet so like his own space. A thought flashes in his processor: would a house with you look like this too? How would your stuff and his stuff look sitting on the shelf side-by-side? Would fresh flowers be something you’d be interested in keeping in the kitchen or in the living room? Well damn, maybe he should just ask you to move in? You’d never have to clean up after others, you’d have more space for all your stuff, and the two of you could spend so much more time together!

But he couldn’t ask that of you. The two of you have only really been serious for a couple months now and have barely graduated past kissing and hugging, and even all of that is so sparse with him being a scout. Plus, it’d be much too dangerous for you to just waltz around the base where any bot could accidentally squish you. Maybe he’s crazy for wanting that with you, at least so early on. Best let you take care of the pacing. Whatever you decide is fine with him as long as you’re together.

Hound turns back to you and sees you folding down the bedding and fluffing the squishy pillows at the top. He knows that being in this holomatter body isn’t the most ideal, and it can be a bit tedious to pilot, but he’s thankful for the ability since it’s likely his actual body, even with mass displacement, would crush the little berth you sleep in. He makes his way over and helps himself to climbing into it with you, careful to get rid of the boots on his avatar. When he first laid with you on the couch you made mention that putting feet coverings on furniture was frowned upon and even seen as disrespectful to some. Since then, he does his best to make sure to keep his off of anything even remotely furniture like, especially the soft kind.

As he lays beside you a sense of peace washes over him, and the moment is only enhanced when you cuddle up next to his side in the crook of his arm. You drape a hand over his chest and a leg over his hip to snuggle deeper into the blankets.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laid with someone like this. Your last relationship wasn’t much of a cuddler and seemed to always have “something come up” when you’d brought up the idea of staying over.

They hardly seemed to give you the time of day when it was something you wanted, but when they wanted something, it was all sorts of important. It never mattered if you were busy or your plans conflicted with theirs, if they wanted something they did their best to get it. Guilt tripping was their favorite thing to do, almost a second hobby to them, and ‘If you love me’ was a popular staple in their vocabulary. You never told Hound about them. It would be too upsetting for you to talk about anyway, and you doubt he’d want to hear about why you were so hesitant to let him in when you two first started this relationship.

You’d known Hound for a good year and a half before either of you made any sort of movement towards the romantic, and that first moment you realized he cared like that terrified you.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam doesn't know how Lucifer did this every night, check all windows to be sure they are locked, check front and back door for being locked and then make sure the security system was working.

And if he leaves the house for any reason, do it all again. But this was only something he did at night.

Adam liked the guest room, surprised a little that Lucifer even had one but maybe it was just to fill the room. The bed was so comfortable, he practically melted into the bed.

When morning came Adam felt so good, that bed did wonders for him. Going down he nearly started to laugh a little, he's never seen Lucifer with his hair messed up sticking out at odd angles and some drool dripping down his chin.

Poor guy must have really needed the sleep. But something about him looking like that endeared him even more to Adam.

Cute.

Lucifer started to wake up, he felt so good when he opened his eyes he was confused as to why he was in the living room.

Oh yeah. Broken leg.

Not his first one but still. He's lost track of how many things he's broken......

Adam: Morning Lu!

Normally he'd panic, but seeing Adam standing there in pajamas, hair messed up and a wide grin on his face made him stay calm and his heart fluttered at the sight of him.

He stayed.

Lucifer smiled: Good morning Adam, did you sleep okay?

Adam: Best fucking sleep ever! Okay, so how do you normally start your mornings?

Lucifer: Well..... Normally I'd just, make my bed, clean myself up and then eat.

Adam: Okay sounds good!

He brought Lucifer everything he needed, he opened specific curtains to let the right amount of light into the house.

Adam made him breakfast and they ate together. It was so nice.

Lucifer got him to get a change of clothes from his room, just a pair of shorts for on the bottom just the thought of trying to put pants on with this cast would be a nightmare.

When Lucifer changed his shirt Adam couldn't help but nearly drool at how nice he looked without one. He wasn't just some small thin guy there was some muscle there too.

Lucifer: It's just very odd not getting up and doing everything myself.

And he was likely not going to do anything too much for himself for a couple months.

Adam: I'll try and make everything be as if you did it!

Lucifer: A-and you're sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?

Adam: Pfft, no. The only thing I have is work and my boss is super understanding.

Apparently his boss Sera was quite familiar with Lucifer being brought into the hospital. He used to be a frequent flyer.

Maybe Adam will have a peak at his medical record. Just to get a sense of how bad things really were.

Lucifer: I-I-I don't want to burden y-you.

Adam smiled and gently took Lucifer's hand in his: You're not a burden. As my neighbor and friend, you matter to me more than you know.

Luicfer's face warmed and his heart fluttered, he mattered? His eyes teared up a little, no one's told him that before.

Adam hugged him as he cried a little.

Lucifer: I-I'm sorry

Adam: Shhh, it's okay let your feelings out.

That made him cry more, he's never had someone validate his feelings. Always forced to keep them to himself and God forbid if he didn't.

They broke apart when he stopped crying.

Adam: I just gotta go next door and grab a few things okay? I'll be right back.

Luicfer: O-okay.

He flushed as Adam wiped his tears, he was too good to him.

-

Alastor sat out on his deck reading the morning paper with his coffee when he heard the door open.

But Adam didn't come out of his house, rather he came out of Lucifer's of all places. He gripped his mug, that charming little bastard even when he's in his fucking house all day he pulls people in.

He made a promise to Lilith that he would keep Lucifer's life Hell and it was one he intended to keep.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[nights-nonsensical-ramblings]

Hi :) got any knuckles headcanons? (or sonic hc in general)

Alright, buckle up cuz I’m about to live up to the third part of my name

Knuckles may have a short temper but He’s super chill and calm most of the time, Sonic is just exceptionally good at pressing his buttons.

He may act all rough and tough but he’s a huge softie and once you get to know him you’ll see his kind and gentle side.

he’s so good with small creatures and knows how to restrain his strength so he doesn’t hurt them.

Chao really, really like him. He grew up around them and know how to look after them.

It is not rare for Knux to end up in a pile chao. Especially on colder nights.

Since he can sense chaos he’s able to recognize all of his friends chaos signatures and he can tell exactly who’s on Angel Island. (It is possible for him to miss someone in the same way you can miss someone calling your name if you’re really focused on something)

It also means he gets an early warning for any chaos based moves and attacks.

His strong connection to chaos also leads to him being a target for things like ghosts.

He’s able to sense them, but they’re able to sense him. Malevolent ghosts will attack him first most of the time and ones without any true goal will follow around after him.

Knuckles’ Guardianship starts to apply to the people he cares about and anyone who hurts them will have an angry Guardian to deal with. (But he’s still willing to beat his friends up for fun because that’s a way sonic characters bond.)

He plays the aloof card, but he gets super worried when a friend is injured. Being a protector is a huge part of him and he doesn’t like to see what he protects in danger.

Less of a headcannon and more of an idea I like. (Although, with the Master Emerald this is possible.) But Knuckles with healing powers speaks to me, him being a skilled warrior who most people only see when he’s riled up for a fight, but also a gentle and kind healer that very few people ever get a chance to see.

and the idea of him being a grumpy healer who will yell at you for getting yourself into danger has plenty of entertainment value.

I love it when Knuckles get to have echidna traits. They’re such a cool animal an I think that should be acknowledged. Knuckles has big long claws like a real echidna does perfect for digging.

digging is a relaxing activity for him and he’s accidentally scared his friends many times by popping out of the ground with zero warning.

Also Since he’s an echidna he’s electroreceptive

the first time he was in a modern house he was so confused. He could sense electricity everywhere but no one else had any clue what he was talking about.

thats also another reason why he hates wearing communicators. He’s constantly able to feel electricity moving through it and it feels uncomfortable. (Tails is working on one with a lower electrical output for him)

It also means he’s the go to for finding faulty wiring. Tails just points out a room and asks him if the electricity feels weird.

The Master Emerald raised him and used its power to guide and teach him.

His ability to glide has a level of m.e influence to it. I’m not set on how much, but his gliding working the way it does can’t be 100% natural.

knuckles’ connection with the Master Emerald means that if he chose to fully tap into the Master Emerald’s power he’d have the potential to be one of the most powerful and dangerous creatures on the planet. The Master Emerald has been able to mess with time and space like it was nothing. It breaks the rules of gravity on a daily basis. It can make the chaos emeralds useless.

But Knuckles doesn’t believe the power is his to use and believes he is only there to guard it.

a situation would have to be truly, truly dire for him to choose to wield it.

Okay I still have a lot more than this, but I’m gonna cut it off here before I go on forever.

[iamhereinthebg]

The clocks keepers are so important to me in the little ways they show care for each other in the last chapters.

Mirai enters a new personality while meeting Nene and Tsukasa and introduces herself as the second ranking clock keepers.

She does an absolute 180° to her personnality, proving that she is indeed an old supernatural and deserves her title.

But once Akane is back with them, she goes back into her child like personnality and using the name he gave her.

It's really clear that they need all clock keepers to be here, and Mirai always refers to Akane as 'Akane'. Never as the lowest ranked clock keeper like the Owl (Kako) may be doing.

Kako has always had a more authoritarian/professional/parental figure to the other two. Akane is always looking for his confirmation during the trial and all the times where Kako is with Mirai in the previous chapters, he is always carrying her with him.

And of course, we have how Akane reacts when he sees Kako getting destroyed. His face isn't one of fear like when he saw Teru beaten up by Number 6 in chapter 88, it's one of absolute anger. He even has his gavel out, ready to fight.

The last time we saw Akane angry like this, was when he learned that Teru lied to him about Aoi and his first reaction was to punch him. I don't know if Akane would be able to have any logical reaction after this (freeing the others right away for example) or if he will go straigth up into action.

It's a funny thing to see, especially when Akane insists so much on how he is forced to be here and to do his duties. He is forced to do this trial and he clearly doesn't like it so why is he reacting so strongly to Kako being destroyed?

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[lifenconcepts]

wanted to just chime in as someone who had a complicated relationship with specifics terms and stuff and also a so-so understanding of some coherent religion, but I have a deep connection to the divine, and through spirituality and something akin to a religious gaze (but not quite so) tend to view the world in a rather more mystical sense, tending to assume the role of a guide through the energy as I have a touch of mystical knowledge within me that I just can’t bring to claim is anything other than something angelic or divine. I understand entirely the displeasure of your own beliefs being met with individuals who don’t seem to exactly share the same views on a topic as you, but you must get this - there always will be those which tend to use the easiest term they have at hand simply because they don’t know what else to use, or find comfort in being seen one way but truly being something else, and it’s hard ofcourse to come to terms with something that makes your very being and soul feel icky .. but it’s just impossible to have everyone comply to the same rules as you deem is right. I’m not saying that trying to educate others isn’t at all worth it, but rather that sometimes you simply don’t feel good about a category of interests or identity - and that is fine.. but rather than forcing yourself to interact with that side of the world, simply to turn a blind eye. They’re not harming anyone, and you have the choice to also not bother anyone, and let’s live in a world where everyone is just trying their best to be happy and fulfilled - no matter the way it seems to present itself. Doesn’t that seem nice?

In short: if you don’t like it, then dont stress your mind over it and pretend it doesn’t exist! Ignorance can be pleasant when you turn a blind eye to it, especially when it’s something in relation to something as widespread as IDENTITY. It would be impossible (and quite morally wrong) to try police or control it in any way, and so we simply must accept what’s beyond our control and try not to take it to heart. Our souls are tender, but for what is pleasant for someone, may not be good in another’s eye, but it doesn’t mean it’s inherently bad - simply a matter of perspective and different minds/souls/individuals. There almost always exists those which go against our beliefs, and my greatest advice is to just tolerate it at face value and turn a blind eye.. because you won’t be able to change a thing, and I’m sorry, even if it truly seems not right, but the only options are either destroying another’s self and joy while also disturbing your own and the universe’s peace, or to learn to handle it in whatever way you might - and you deserve to keep whatever beliefs you feel are right, but society likely shall always continue to use ‘angels’ and ‘demon/devil’ as these vague concepts? Those little men with horns and beautiful creatures with purpose - it’s defined in different ways by different people (and non-people), from whichever day and age you look at it to, and if you are offended by angels in the internet simply being what feels like their true self, then I suggest you run away into the woods in Halloween because there are plenty of costumes that get angels and demons horrifically wrong. Even with the scriptures we hold.

And still - if angels existed, do exist, and will exist - doesn’t that mean their self will constantly be rewritten time and time again? We can’t stick to the only thing that was written down some long time ago, because just like people believed women to be demons and the common cold to be caused by devil’s hatered and the only solution be cocaine, maybe some things about the divine is outdated.. but I’m not willing to open that can of worms now, but just bringing out the fact that these things sometimes need to be rewritten with newer information. Also, love all the writings of those above my post! <3

I'm a religious otherkin having difficulty sorting my feelings out about angelkin. I feel like beings should identify however they feel best, but I can't help but feel frustrated sometimes because so many portrayals just...aren't angels. Idk it just seems wrong bordering disrespectful sometimes. I'm scared to post about this because the otherkin community seems really hostile towards Christians and I don't even fully know how I feel about it myself. Idk just putting this out there I guess, if any angelkin could weigh in with their experiences please do because I really do want to understand! Please help me figure these feelings out!

🌌

[orcelito]

So the funny thing about my veilguard game is that I'm almost definitely overleveled. I just went and fought the blighted dragons in the wetlands, and... eh. Before this id already fought and killed the revenant dragon in the crossroads, which was a bit of a challenge. I even needed to use 2 potions for it. But I still killed it no problem. The wetlands blighted dragons were pretty easy in comparison.... though I Will say, fighting *two* dragons at once was a fun, unexpected surprise. Kept me on my toes a bit!! I still didn't need to use any of my potions, though