#and that as much as that person wishes they had

[collectivelysillysoup]

Thank you for sharing this, op. It's clear that Lyra was well loved and cared for. 💕

Losing a pet is hard, it hurts for a long time and for some people it doesn't feel like it will stop hurting for a while. Hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself, I'm sure she would be so proud.

Things get a little personal up ahead, just a warning!

Soon it will be a year since we lost our own baby girl. Her name was Gia and she was a ragamese mix with a big personality; we had her for nearly her entire life and she was here for us for somewhere around half of ours. She was vocal, purred so loud, and she had a lot of little quirks about her. We loved her so much.

We unfortunately learned about her having cancer on valentines day, which has possibly ruined that day for us. We stayed up late that night and I remember so vividly just laying on the floor with her and petting her. I said I would see her tomorrow, that she would be okay.

When I woke up in the afternoon on the 15th, she was gone. She was 10 years old and the youngest of our two cats. She went into surgery and they found cancer everywhere, so she just... stayed asleep. She didn't have to hurt anymore.

I love you so much Gia, you were the sweetest little baby when you wanted to be and I still miss you to this day. Seeing your toy sitting in the living room still hurts, because I know you loved that thing and you never got to come back home to play with it again. I still wish I would have stayed up until you left, that I had just been with you as long as I could.

(I'm sorry the only images of her I have available to post at the moment are low quality ones I took while in school on a chromebook, but low quality and a few years old is better than nothing)

My sweet little kitten, I will never forget the impact you made on my life... 💞

Lyra, my beloved cat of 13 years, passed away this year on Father's Day. She's been by my side through very difficult times and was my little rock of steady and unrelenting love. I struggled a lot drawing this, and struggled a lot posting it, but I know I would've wanted to read a comic like this that validated my grief for her when I lost her.

Wherever you are, Lyra my little summer star, I love you always! Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: It's normal to feel insecure every once in a while. But what would Sylus think of it? You wonder if he'll think that you're too much but you still ask to look through his phone anyway. And he willingly lets you.

Warnings: Low self-esteem and self-doubt, insecurity, jealousy issues (thinking he has other girls), bad relationships (not with Sylus), mentions of stalking (done by Sylus to you), mentions of threat messages.

Author's note: Is this controversial. Idk. I think I'm overbearing, so this is self-indulgent but I hope that it helps if you can relate to it as well. This is based on one of his Destiny Café and affinity level up lines. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You had always been a little insecure of yourself. Comparing yourself to others, envying the life they have, wishing to be a different person entirely. All of this had been ingrained into you like heated iron scorching skin, branding itself onto the fragile fabric of your soul. It would be alright, if it didn't consume your being and take the reigns of your mind at the worst of times.

Previous partners always brushed you off when you wanted to speak to them about your troubles. Telling you that it was fine— that they could handle it. Lies. Maybe they would indulge you once or twice, but they would always end up angry at you for being... difficult. Your jealousy is out of control, your clinginess is overbearing, your need for reassurance is exhausting. Always too much, too high maintenance. It all ends sour.

But you can't help it. The need to satiate this overwhelming emotion withers you away. Your desperate want for someone to claim you as their number one— the only one—overrides rationality. Yet you have learned to bite your tongue. Force your words to die in your throat because you never want to be too much. Especially not for someone like Sylus. Sylus who has always been so understanding and patient and you are terrified that this might tip him over the edge.

Sylus, however, notices that you seem rather lost in thought. Although he has been on his phone for quite some time, nothing gets past him. Not your jittery behaviour or the sighs that escape past your lips as if they were the words you wished to convey but held back on. He sees you fiddling with a trinket, some gemstone he left lying around the base that Mephisto probably went for. Switching off his phone, he sets it aside in favour of staring intently at you, two fingers resting on his temple as he leans on his elbow.

“You seem quite fascinated with that pretty gem, sweetie. Has Mephisto influenced you with a crow's instinct?” Sylus teases you, an opening line for conversation.

You jerk, scowling at the man, “Don't compare me to that bird!”

He only chuckles, shaking his head.

“What's on your mind, sweetie?” The tone of his voice shifts, now noticeably softer. So are his eyes.

Sylus is worried about you, it seems. You glance at him, taking in the way he keeps his eyes only on you. Then briefly direct your gaze towards that damn phone of his before looking into his eyes. Vicious scarlet turned lovesick velvet; it engulfs you in safety. Your lip quivers, and you bite down to stop it from doing so. What would Sylus say if you asked to look through his phone? How irritated or annoyed would he be? But his eyes are so warm, and you crave the gentle adoration it drowns you in.

“Can I... look through your phone?” You ask hesitantly, breaking eye contact first.

Well. That was the last thing he expected you'd ask him. He stares at you a little dumbfounded, only briefly, before regaining his composure. He expected a favor, something grand or perhaps requested the impossible from him. Of all things Sylus owns, and you ask for his mobile device. With a quirk of his brow and small tug at his lips, he gestures for you to come closer. When you do, he sits you across his lap, pulling his phone from the coffee table with his evol and drops it off in your hands.

“Go ahead, sweetie. I have nothing to hide from you, only the authorities.”

Sylus is patient when you begin your... search. Throughout all the apps he has; social media, websites, albums, contacts. You find that most of it contains you and N109 business. Pictures of you that you don't recall him taking, candid ones looking away from the camera. Auction sites where he's betting on antique weapons and vintage wine. Messages to Luke and Kieran regarding missions, and sometimes about keeping an eye on you. Ominous ones from others that come in the form of—

“What do the codes mean?” The question tumbles out of you before you fully think it through. Damn you.

His hand envelops yours, scrolling through the messages with his thumb.

“This one, is a location. Some sort of trap, most likely. The one you looked at earlier was a threat. And as for this...” Sylus explains every single one, not even hesitating.

Once you're satisfied, you give him back his phone. There was nothing. No other girl, no secret lover, not a single piece of incriminating evidence. Shame and guilt immediately take root within you. Sylus is not that kind of person, you should have known that. Should have trusted him more and let it be. Why were you like this? Apologize. It's what you need to do now because maybe he thought you were doubting him.

“I'm sorry—” he cuts you off.

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. Didn't I tell you that you have access to all my resources? Including, but not limited to, my phone. You can take a mile if I give you an inch.”

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle. Even the tips of your fingers, and a final one on the inside of your palm.

“Next time, you don't need to ask. Just snatch it away from me if you think I'm giving it too much attention. I'll drop anything to show you how much I adore you.” He looks at you, gaze unwavering.

You will never be too much for Sylus. Everything that you have to offer, he will devour like a dog starved. He has been deprived of the intensity of your affections for far too long to be picky. If your love is tender, he will soften himself from metal to clay and be molded by your hands as best he can. And if your love is untamed ferocity he will embrace you with open arms, ready to be ripped apart. It will be alright— Sylus will stitch himself back together if that was what you needed him to do. That is what he will do to love you.

[mssorceressupreme]

Truth or Dare | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Fred realises his true feelings for you once you are dared to french kiss George during a round of truth or dare. Draco then forces you to kiss him instead, which only results in a brawl. You then take Fred back to the common room and help clean his wounds.

Warnings/tags: violence/fighting, jealous!fred, kissing, non-con touch, Draco being a git (sorry malfoy lovers 😭), cleaning wounds after a fight trope, reader isn't in a specified house here, spicy ending (if u squint)

———

The Ravenclaw common room had never seen a gathering quite like this. The enchanted blue flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a radiant glow over the room, which today, was packed with students from all four houses.

Luna had invited everyone over, claiming that a “spontaneous social gathering” would be a great way to pass the time and forget about your studies for a while.

The usual gryffindor group, Cedric and some hufflepuffs, the slytherin trio and Cho, all decided to partake in this gathering.

And so, there you all were, sitting in a large, chaotic circle on the floor, playing a game of truth or dare that had long spiralled out of control.

The rules were simple: if you refused a dare or a truth, you had to take Veritaserum and spill your deepest, darkest secret in front of everyone. No one wanted to risk that.

So far, Harry had been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room, which led to him—rather sheepishly—kissing Ginny, earning a gag from Ron. But moments later, Ron found himself a stuttering mess when Hermione had been dared to sit on his lap for two rounds, her face burning red while he struggled to keep his cool.

Neville, poor thing, had been forced to recount an embarrassing moment where he tripped down an entire staircase in front of his crush, which turned out alright anyway because they went to Madam Pomfrey together and spent the whole day chatting.

And now, it was your turn.

Draco, who sat beside you, leaned in with a smug grin. “Alright Y/N, let’s make this interesting,” he drawled. “I dare you to French kiss the person sitting across from you.”

You turned your head, your stomach flipping.

And there sat George Weasley, grinning at you like he had already won.

The room erupted into cheers, and George wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Well, Y/N, I won’t say no,” he teased, leaning back on his hands.

Your heart sank a little—not because George was a bad choice, but because you wished it was his twin instead.

Still, rules were rules.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and took slow tentative steps across the large circle, kneeling in front of George. “Alright Georgie, just get it over with,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

George chuckled. “Hey! At least pretend to be excited.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly, before leaning in, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back easily, bringing a hand to your neck, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, flustered.

George gave you a grin then winked, and you smiled back. He was one of your closest friends, after all; teasing you came naturally to him.

"Okay that's done!" Flustered, you rose up and hurried back to your spot next to Draco.

"You guys are adorable." Cho, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged you gently, and you laughed nervously.

Sure, George was handsome, humorous, and kind, but he wasn't Fred. To most people, they were pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole, but to you, it was different. There was something about Fred that you saw differently.

Speaking of Fred, you shot a quick glance in his direction, curious as to his whole reaction regarding the scene that just unfolded.

Fred hadn’t said a word.

He sat stiffly, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glared at his twin. Something in his chest twisted when he saw George’s smug grin.

But it wasn't entirely George's fault. You see, no one knew of Fred's secret crush on you. Would you call it a crush? Man, feelings were a complicated mystery to Fred, he never bothered going down that lane, it was foreign to him. Best avoid all that sappy stuff, y'know.

Draco, however, was unimpressed. “That was pathetic,” he scoffed, leaning closer to you. “You call that a French kiss? It had to be longer.”

You folded your arms, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t even say how long.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, then, two minutes. You can do it on me instead. Save you the hassle of walking over there again."

The room let out a collective “ooooh,” and your stomach churned.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Crabbe, Goyle and Dean chanted.

"Wha—I already did the dare!" You countered, raising your hands in defence.

"Hmm now that Draco mentioned it, it was a bit of a short kiss, barely a French kiss, more like a Portuguese kiss." Lee agreed, resting his hand on his chin.

"Portuguese kiss? That's not even a thing you git." Angelina chortled, throwing her head back.

Before you could react, Draco leaned in slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely grazed your cheek, but it was enough to make you shift uncomfortably. He patted your head, smiling like he was doing you some kind of favour.

You didn’t like it.

But Draco was your friend, and this was supposed to be fun, so you ignored it. You didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone so you forced yourself to tolerate it.

Fred, however, wasn’t ignoring it.

His hand was clenched into a tight fist in his lap, and his usually mischievous eyes were laced with something entirely different.

Draco leaned in again, wrapping one arm around you. “Come on, then,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Or do you want the Veritaserum?”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You didn’t want to kiss him. But you definitely didn’t want to take the serum, either.

Draco took your hesitation as an invitation. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

The crowd cheered again, urging you on.

Draco removed his arm then ruffled your hair slightly, "Don't be a wuss, I'll make it enjoyable for ya."

"Don't be scared Y/N, it's only a kiss!" Seamus encouraged, hoping to make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse.

Only a kiss? You wanted to save french kissing for someone special, not some ridiculous dare.

Draco leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hand brushed against your arm, he was so close that you could now smell his fresh scent. You leaned back instinctively, smiling awkwardly while brushing your arm.

Everyone was so caught up encouraging the two of you to kiss that no one paid attention to the speed at which Fred stood up from the floor and bolted to Draco, tackling him harshly.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as the two of them crashed onto the floor. Draco barely had time to react before Fred punched him, his face twisted in pure rage. The two of them were now in a brawl, wrestling each other on the ground. It was clear that no one was going easy on each other.

“Keep your hands off her,” Fred snapped, his voice low and furious.

Draco, stunned for only a second, sneered up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

"Fred! Oi! Stop, it's just a game!" Lee's attempt at stopping Fred with his words was useless.

Fred wasn’t listening. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy as he pinned Draco down, gripping his shirt harshly.

Draco’s smirk returned. “Merlin, are you jealous Weasley?”

Fred loosened his grip, blinking slowly, "I..."

"Called it. Bet you wished it was you getting to french kiss Y/N then. Why don't you let me finish my dare with her so I can show you how it's done eh?" Draco remarked, all too obnoxiously for Fred's liking.

Fred's eyes grew darker, laced with furiousness.

He lunged again, and in a matter of seconds, they were full-on fighting.

Gasps and shouts filled the room as they tumbled, fists flying, knocking over a pile of books and scattering cards from an abandoned wizarding chess game. The flood thudded heavily, as they continued their wrestling.

“Fred! Draco! Stop!” Voices pleaded, but they were drowned out as Fred was blinded by rage. How dare Draco force himself onto you like that?!

No one listened.

You watched them in pure horror as they fought; you joined the others in yelling at them to stop, but none of them listened.

Hermione immediately went to comfort you, placing a comforting hand on your arm and sending you an apologetic look. Was this all because of you? You felt like shit for causing this, bloody hell, you should've just french kissed Draco.

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, stop!” George tried pulling his twin back, but Fred shook him off, shoving him away.

Cedric attempted to pull Draco off Fred, but Draco pushed him aside, scoffing, "Not now Diggory!"

Draco, despite being an arrogant prat, was also a decent fighter, and he managed to shove Fred back, wiping a bit of blood from his lip.

“What the hell?!” you finally yelled, eyes darting from Fred to Draco.

Fred froze.

His furious gaze met yours, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he wiped some blood off his lips.

He swallowed hard. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the common room.

You hesitated only a second before running after him.

—

You found him on the astronomy tower balcony, leaning against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

The night air was cold, but Fred’s skin was burning.

You took a deep breath. “Fred—”

“Why don’t you go check on Draco?” he cut in sharply. “Or George. Your boyfriends.”

Your brows furrowed. “They’re not my boyfriends. You're being ridiculous now.”

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. “Really? You were getting pretty cozy with George back there.”

You sighed. “It was a dare, Fred.”

“Oh, and Draco just happened to be all over you?” He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw it—his bruised lip, the cut on his cheekbone, the faint traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, I know we're friends but I can handle myself." You assumed he was being protective as a friend, so you attempted comforting him, but failed miserably at doing so.

"Yeah, friends." He pressed his lips together.

You took a step closer wanting to reach up, but Fred’s eyes flickered elsewhere. “Don’t.”

You froze.

“I don’t need you feeling bad for me,” he muttered, turning back to the railing. His grip tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Fred,” you said softly.

Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the tower, whipping his hair slightly, but Fred didn’t move.

Your gaze drifted to his hands. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight.

Without thinking, you reached out, gently prying one of his fists open. He held his breath, glancing down at you.

Your fingers traced the swelling on his knuckles, your touch featherlight. “We need to clean this up.”

Fred didn’t protest. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, watching you. He released his breath, silently agreeing.

Wordlessly, you pulled his hand in yours, leading him down the spiral staircase, away from the cold, away from the fight, away from everyone else.

—

The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The common room was empty—everyone was either asleep or still in the Ravenclaw tower, talking about what had happened.

Fred sat on the couch, his arms resting on his knees, his head tilted slightly downward. He hadn’t said much since you dragged him back.

You returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth and knelt in front of him.

“Hold still,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the dried blood on his lip.

Fred flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his hazel eyes unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something, awe, perhaps. His eyes studied yours, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on cleaning his wounds. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you were the epitome of beauty in his eyes, a darling angel.

You focused on cleaning him up, biting your lip. The silence between you was begging to be broken, heavy with something left unsaid. But you chose to ignore it, shifting your focus to getting Fred cleaned up. You see, it was the way you were always so caring towards everyone, so kind, always selflessly giving your time away to help those who needed it. That was part of the reason Fred had fallen for you in the first place, your kindness.

Fred exhaled sharply as you pressed on his wound.

"Sorry..." you mutter, but he gently removed your arm, and rested it on his knee.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he said suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him. “Stop what?”

He let out a cheerless laugh. “This. You. Making me feel like a complete idiot.”

Your heart pace increased. “I—”

“Do you know what it’s like?” His voice was raw, unfiltered, a slight rasp as he spoke softly. “Watching you? Seeing every guy in that room touch you? Kiss you?” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my mind.”

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Never thought I'd admit it, but I’ve wanted you,” his voice low, almost trembling. “For so long, and I—” He broke off, exhaling harshly. “And then tonight, I had to sit there and watch it. Merlin, it drove me so bloody mad.”

Your hands were shaking. Was this it? The Fred you never thought would ever return your feelings, about to spew the words right out?

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, something desperate behind this gaze.

“I hate that you don’t see it,” he muttered.

“See what?” you breathed.

His lips parted, and for a second, he hesitated.

“That I love you.”

Your breath caught, inhaling as you paused.

Fred let out a rough laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Godric, I love you. I don’t just like you, I love you. And it kills me because I know you don’t feel the same way so I just thought I'd keep it to myself but here we are."

Your heartbeat felt as though it was pounding loud enough to wake up the whole dorm.

“You idiot,” you whispered.

Fred blinked. “What?”

“You idiot,” you repeated, your voice shaking. Then, before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his with all the emotion you've held back, the words you've been dying to say to him.

It was nothing like the kiss with George.

This was everything.

Fred let out a soft, startled sound before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. His lips moved against yours, desperate, breathless. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know how much he meant it.

And you did.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting up from kneeling and he pulled you onto his lap, now straddling him in the common room, to which you were thankful that no one was around.

A soft moan escaped you, as he sucked on your lower lip, your hands tangled themselves in his fluffy hair, tugging lightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Fred let out a quiet, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You better.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, and he grinned.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, kissing him again as if there was no tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss, desperately needing a round two with you, his Y/N.

[woniedarlin]

Hi! I actually absolutely love your fic of jungwon being down bad for tsundere reader so I was wondering if you could write something where the roles are reversed and jungwon is the tsundere one 🤍

Chasing a Tsundere

pairing: tsundere! Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You fell for Jungwon—hard. Unfortunately for you, he just had to be the grumpiest, most emotionally unavailable person ever to exist. He pushed you away, rolled his eyes at your persistence, and made it very clear he wasn’t the romantic type.

But giving up? Not an option. Because this is Jungwon we’re talking about.

author's note: Hello, my lovelies! This was so much fun to write. Big thanks to Anonie for the request—I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

caution: cursing and a bit of angst (tell me if there’s more!) , this story contains excessive tsundere behavior and a very persistent main character. Side effects may include secondhand embarrassment. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

You leaned over Jungwon’s desk with your brightest smile, holding out a bento box wrapped in a pink cloth. “I made this for you. It’s your favorite! I even cut the veggies into stars!”

"Tch," Jungwon dismissed. "I don't want that disgusting slop."

If only he could have tasted that heavenly creation at least once. I mean, imagine turning down a homemade dish made with such effort? Poor you, who only deserved so much more.

He barely glanced up from his textbook as his pen continued to scribble down notes. “Why would I eat food from someone who burns toast?”

You pouted and clutched the bento to your chest. “That was one time, Jungwon. One time! Besides, I didn’t burn this.”

"I don't want your germs. Who knows what kind of gross crap is in there," he said; in which you glanced around the classroom; a few of your friends sent pity looks on your way. No one understood why you were so smitten with him, but they respected it nonetheless.

A few of your classmates looked to be in a similar state of enchantment. Maybe you should try it with them instead of the grinch?

"What do I have to do to make you go away?” Jungwon's words sting a bit.

“I don’t know.’’

You weren't even slightly intimidated or bothered, which was amusing. Most people would have backed off, but you just stood there. It wasn't enjoyable but also somewhat impressive. Not that he'd ever admit that. A long sigh erupted from his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He slammed his pen down, causing a few heads to turn, but he cared little. “Sit. Down. Go bug someone else.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

”Please accept?’’ you showed the bento.

You were persistent with your efforts; he had to commend you for that, though he’d never admit it to your face. That would give you too much of an ego boost.

He eyed the bento in your hand, his stomach betraying him by growling quietly. He hadn’t eaten all lunch, so the aroma of the homemade food was almost too tempting to resist. But still, the stubbornness won out. "No. I’m not interested in your food. Why do you insist on wasting your efforts on me?”

“Please?”

Shit. He couldn’t help but think, “How can I say no to someone so sweet?”

He sighed, finally looking at you with that familiar, unimpressed stare. “Just leave it on the desk. I’ll think about it.”

A small victory! You quickly set the box down. “I knew you couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later!” You skipped away before he could respond.

He glanced between the bento and the door you’d disappeared through. His stomach growled once more, begging to be fed. With another sigh, he opened the bento box and slowly ate. “Not bad…”

☔️

The rain fell hard as you stood at the school gates, holding your bag to keep it dry. You sighed and watched the heavy rain, getting ready to run for it. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to you.

"You planning on running out in that weather? Do you have a death wish or something?"

Jungwon approached you, umbrella in hand. Before you could even respond, he thrust the umbrella into your hands. “Take it,” he said curtly, glancing at you for only a second before entering the rain, completely unprotected.

“Wait!” you called after him, holding the umbrella out. “What about you?” You extended the umbrella, an offer of protection from the relentless rain. Jungwon paused, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"I don't need it."

His face didn't reveal it, but the gesture touched him. He had been trying to push you away, to make you dislike him, but all you did was offer him shelter from the downpour when you needed it. He couldn't help but admit the irony.

“Don’t catch a cold, idiot.”

☔️

It was another typical day. The hallways were busy with students. But all you could think about was how warm Jungwon’s arm felt as you held onto him.

You had been walking together, but you wanted to be closer. So, you wrapped your arm around his and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt the tension leave your body as you relaxed into him. He was always warm, and being this close to him felt right.

You noticed Jungwon stiffen almost instantly, his eyes widening. “What are you—” he started, his fingers twitching slightly, unsure what to do, before reluctantly relaxing. Slowly, Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and the scowl that so often resided on his face faded away. You felt his arm loosen, “Weirdo,” he muttered.

For the rest of the walk, you were quiet. Strangely.

He led you through the crowded school corridors, expertly weaving around the students and making a ruckus. Eventually, he spoke up. " Are you okay?" he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“More than okay,” you sighed, a dreamy smile forming. “I’m in love.”

Jungwon scoffed. “Love? Seriously?” he retorted. “You fall too hard.”

Suddenly, a girl appeared out of nowhere, walking up to Jungwon and batting her eyelashes at him. “Hey, Jungwon,” she cooed, giving him a flirty smile. “You look so handsome today.”

Oh, the audacity.

You felt your grip on his arm tighten, and without thinking, you made a slight hissing noise under your breath. Like an actual cat. Because that’s totally normal behavior.

Jungwon looked at her blankly. "Uh, thanks," he said, shifting his weight to put some distance between her and himself. After a few moments of awkward silence, the girl caught the hint and excused herself, shooting you a dirty look before sauntering away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jungwon noticed and let out a long sigh. He reached over with his free hand, gently touching your arm. "Hey, hey, calm down, alright? I can practically see the green flames of envy raging in your eyes," he says with annoyance. "She means nothing. No one does."

He pauses, "Except you, I guess?" he mumbles under his breath, his voice so low you missed it.

☔️

You were hauling a heavy box of basketball equipment to the gym hours later when a sharp voice stopped you.

"You're an idiot to carry that much all at once. Hand it over before you collapse." Jungwon came out from the corner with a frown on his face. He eyed the box in your arms and rolled his eyes as he took it from you, holding it quickly. “This is what happens when you don’t ask for help.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you replied with a sheepish smile. “The team needed help—”

He shook his head. "There's helpful, and then there's being too nice. You've got to stop saying 'yes' to everyone. That was what? A 40-kilogram box of balls and equipment? Your back would’ve snapped in two by lunch."

Jungwon continued, "Besides, Do they not have arms? If you need help, ask me.”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated when you noticed his face, “I’m fine, really,” you reassured him.

"And that's the problem. 'I'm fine.' What happens when, one day, you're not? When you're tired or overwhelmed and still say 'I'm fine' while falling apart inside?" He scolded you, "It's okay to say 'no,' and it's okay to ask for help. Do you not understand? This isn’t a game, and you’re not invincible!"

He turned and walked away, his final words echoing down the hall.

"Don't wait for a mistake to learn."

You didn’t expect this from him.

☔️

For weeks, you did everything. You put in the effort that he rejects, but on rare occasions, he accepts it. Well, you force him to take it. After classes, you were sitting on the rooftop, watching the view. For once, you weren’t seeking Jungwon out; you were trying to gather your thoughts.

Were you tired of chasing someone who always seems to push you away? Absolutely.

Jungwon noticed you perched on the rooftop. He couldn't help but wonder, what's got her so down? He knew he was causing you heartache but he also knew that with every rejection, you came back with more effort. He wanted you to see him as what he truly was. A jerk. Someone not worthy of your devotion... but you never seemed to give up, that determination was something else.

He wondered if he may have gone too far…

“Hey.”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, walking closer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

You looked away, fidgeting with your hands. “I… I don’t think I should bother you anymore.”

Jungwon froze. “What are you talking about? Bother me? You’re not…” He trailed off, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’m an ass. I push people away and make it seem like I don’t want anyone’s company. But you… you never left, even when I wanted you to.” He sat down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance.

“I mean… you’re always annoyed with me. I just figured…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Stop saying that,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than usual.

“You think I enjoy acting like a jerk to everyone?“ He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes focusing on the horizon. ”The truth is, I am afraid to open up, to let people in because I know how easily they can break me.” He glanced at you briefly before averting his eyes again. “I’ve seen it happen to my parents and my friends. I don’t want to be another sad soul wandering the world broken.”

You hesitated before whispering, ‘’I’m sorry…’’

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in pushing you away that I didn’t even realize how much you were trying to get closer to me. I don’t deserve your attention, let alone your kindness.”

He continued, “You’re not… You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, sure. But if you stopped being around…” He trailed off, looking away as his cheeks turned red. “I’d probably hate it.”

“Jungwon…”

“What? It’s true. I don’t know when or how it happened… but my day feels..lacking if you’re not there.” He shrugged as though admitting that wasn’t a big deal. “So…don’t you dare think about stopping.” He added sternly. “I like you, alright?”

“Thank you…for liking me back’’ you said shyly.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t get all mushy on me. You make it sound like I’d run into a burning building for you. I like you, but it’s not like I would get matching tattoos or serenade you under your window.”

“But will you?’’

He scoffed. “Really? Of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focus on?” He shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes. “Fine. Yes, I'd run into a burning building for you. I’ll do anything for you. Happy now?’’

“Very.’’ You giggled, ‘’Come on, walk me home, boyfriend.’’

“Boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at your quick upgrade in the relationship. “You're lucky I like you cause anyone else suggesting that might've been laughed out of the school." He stood up, dusting off his pants and offering you a hand. "Well, come on, girlfriend.“

☔️

Days later…

You sat across from Jungwon at the small restaurant table, your heart doing little flips every time he glanced your way, even though his usual unimpressed expression hadn’t faltered since you arrived. The date wasn’t even bad—just, well, awkward. But awkward in a way that had you wanting to laugh every five seconds because of how seriously Jungwon took things.

Like now.

He's been staring at his menu for ten minutes. It's three pages long, and each item has a picture next to it. How complicated can it be?

"What's taking you so long?" you say, resting your chin in your hand.

"Shut up." He replies, never taking his eyes off the menu. “Do you want water?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Uh, sure?” you said, smiling awkwardly.

He waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of water. After all this careful deliberation, he's just ordering water?

He barely looked at you as he added, “Bring her water. Lemon water.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, which Jungwon noticed.

Jungwon blinked at you, tilting his head slightly. “What? You don’t like lemon?”

He looked a bit hurt at the rejection of his thoughtfulness. This was the same guy who'd throw paper planes at the teacher but couldn’t handle not knowing if you liked lemon in your water? You were so endeared that it took every ounce of self-control not to squeal.

“Oh, no, you’re adorable today,” you assured him, finally letting out a soft laugh.

“Cool,” he managed, cheeks turning pink as he looked down at the table.

“No, I mean—it’s just water,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll live either way.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just let me handle it.”

The corner of your lips quirked up. Why is he so serious about water?

The date went on, and the conversation flowed a little more naturally (after you decided to do most of the talking). Jungwon, though, still had his moments. “So, how much do you like me?” you teased halfway through your meal, grinning at him over the rim of your glass.

He choked on his drink.

He coughed, hitting his chest slightly as he cleared his throat. You didn’t think the question warranted that kind of reaction. But then again, you talked to the boy who spent ten minutes deciding whether he should get fries. “W-what kind of question is that?” he asked once he regained composure

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your palm. “I’m just curious. Am I your type?”

He met your gaze, his eyes softening slightly. It was the first time all evening he'd looked directly at you without an expression of mild annoyance.

“What, you think I’m here for the ambiance?” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’re… not that bad a company when you’re not talking about nothing.”

It is a backhanded compliment, but from Jungwon, it might as well be a love confession.

“So,” you continued. “How much do you think I like you?”

Jungwon avoided your gaze, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth to avoid answering. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking quite flustered. His eyes darted around, possibly seeking an escape route. No dice, he’s sitting opposite you in a relatively small restaurant.

He asked again, “What kind of question even is that?”

“A valid one,” you teased, grinning. “But you’ll have to pay me if you want the answer.”

He frowned, confused. “Pay you?”

“Yeah, like—give me, I don’t know... probably 500,000 won, and I’ll tell you all my secrets.” You held up your hands dramatically.

“You said 500,000 won, didn’t you?” he said, pulling out the exact amount and sliding it across the table with an entirely serious expression. “Here. Talk.”

He stared at you expectantly, looking like he expected you to take the money and answer. It was a ridiculous situation. Here you were, in a normal restaurant on a Friday night, with your new boyfriend, who had just put 500,000 won on the table, waiting to know how much you liked him.

It took every ounce of will in your body not to laugh. Oh, he’s so cute…

Your jaw dropped. “Jungwon, I was joking!”

He froze, the faintest flush creeping up his cheeks. “What?”

You could see the cogs turning in his head as if he was contemplating what to do with you now. The situation was getting more absurd, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. It was probably rude to laugh in his face when he just tried to pay you for the information he thinks is valuable.

Still, you laughed.

“I didn’t actually mean it!” you laughed, pushing the money back toward him. “I wouldn’t charge you to know something like that.”

He looked down at the table, “Yeah, well, you started it,” he muttered, returning the money. After a few seconds, he slid a 50,000 won bill across the table, looking slightly embarrassed. “Fine. But this will do?”

He looked up at you, his gaze uncertain. You smiled, tucking this little tidbit of information away for later. The Jungwon is willing to pay you to know you like him. What a night.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to pay me.’’

“Look,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “Just..” He huffed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Just take the damn money, okay? It’s not like I’m breaking the bank here.”

He nudged the money towards you again, his eyes holding a silent plea. Clearly, he didn’t know how else to go about the situation, resorting to his only known means of communication: his wallet.

“Uh…okay?” You accepted it with amusement.

He smiled, nodding in relief. “Good. Now what…what were you saying before?” He asked, trying to hide his embarrassed flush with a cough. “About how much you like me,” he mumbled, his words barely audible.

“You know, you’re too serious,” you teased, poking at his hand lightly. “But I still like you anyway.”

Jungwon looked away, but a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Hmph,” he finally said, flicking a sugar packet towards you. “You’re not so bad yourself. In small doses.”

☔️

The date continued similarly. You’d offer to split the bill, but he’d insist on paying. You’d reach for the menu, but he’d swat your hand away, insisting on ordering for you instead.

He was trying hard, and you couldn’t help but adore him even more despite the awkwardness.

Just as you finished teasing Jungwon, music began to play in the restaurant. The lively beat echoed through the room as the servers clapped their hands and started encouraging diners to join them in the center of the floor to dance. You perked up immediately. “Oh my gosh, Jungwon! They’re dancing!”

He glanced at the crowd gathering in the middle of the restaurant and frowned. “Yeah, I can see that. What about it?”

“Let’s go!” you squealed.

His brows shot up. “What? No way.”

“Come on!” You were already out of your seat, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He barely had time to protest as you dragged him toward the impromptu dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered, resisting slightly, but you didn’t let go.

“Well, you’re about to learn!” you declared with a grin, already swaying to the music as you pulled him into the crowd.

Jungwon looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, but he sighed in defeat as you started twirling. He awkwardly moved his arms, shuffling his feet in time with yours. “This is embarrassing,” he grumbled, his face heating up.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, beaming at him as you twirled again, laughing. “Come on, loosen up a little!”

“Loosen up?” he echoed incredulously. “I’m not a dancer!”

“You don’t have to be! Just have fun!” You reached for his hands, placing them on your waist as you guided his movements. “See? Not so bad!”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath, but his steps started to match yours. He tried to keep a scowl on his face, but the way you were laughing so freely made it impossible for him to stay annoyed.

“You’re smiling!” you teased,

“I’m not,” he argued, though the pink tint on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You are! Oh, Jungwon, you’re having fun!”

“I’m not having fun,” he deadpanned; his hands didn’t leave your waist as you swayed together.

“You’re lying,” you sang, twirling yourself and accidentally stepping on his foot.

“Ow—okay, now I’m definitely not having fun!” he groaned, wincing.

You gasped. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. But when you smiled sheepishly up at him, his chest felt lighter despite himself.

As the song ended and the crowd cheered, you clapped your hands excitedly. “That was so much fun!”

He sighed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but the faint smile never left his face as you pulled him back to your seats.

☔️

The evening had been fantastic, but it was time to say goodbye. The cool night air surrounded you as you reached your front door. Jungwon walked you home, although he hardly admitted that he liked it. Every second of it.

“Alright,” he said, avoiding your eyes as you stood by your door. “You should lock the door when you get inside. And… don’t forget to check the windows too. It’s late, and you never know.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how concerned he sounded, even though he tried so hard to hide it. “Got it, Jungwon. Thanks,” you said, already knowing how sweet he was, even if he’d never admit it.

He shuffled on his feet, clearly not ready to leave just yet. “I’ll… I’ll call you when I get home, okay? Just in case. And make sure you don’t open the door for anyone unless you’re sure it’s them. You’re… you’re too nice, okay? People could take advantage.” You could hear a slight shake in his voice as he talked on. “And, uh… make sure you stay safe, alright?” He finally looked at you with worry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was being. You stepped a little closer to him, surprising him with a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be fine, Jungwon,” you said softly. “And thank you. For everything.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately turned his head away, muttering something that sounded like, “I-I wasn’t doing this for you to kiss me, okay?” But his voice was quieter now, a little softer than usual.

You laughed, enjoying the moment, but before he could say anything else, you stepped back and smiled at him. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

He nodded quickly, still blushing furiously. “Yeah, I will. You—don’t—don’t worry about me!” he stammered, turning on his heel to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, he stopped and turned back toward you, his face hidden in his hands.

“I-I love you, alright?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed, and started walking briskly down the street.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, a broad smile slowly spreading. That was all he needed to say, and you knew exactly how much he cared. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, feeling your heart flutter as you watched him walk off.

“Love you too, Jungwon,” you whispered to the night air, knowing he wouldn’t hear. But somehow, it felt like the most perfect moment.

[Extra Scene]

Months later…

Jungwon lay on his bed with his phone resting on a pillow. He looked at you through the screen.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

You scoffed as you shifted under your covers. “We saw each other three hours ago.”

He hummed. “That’s three hours too long.”

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked while squinting at him through the screen.

He glanced at you and smirked. “What, I can’t smile?”

“Not like that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’re up to something.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as he turned onto his side. “Can’t a guy just admire his girlfriend?”

You scoffed. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, resting his chin on his hand. “You look cute today.”

You blinked. “…It’s a video call. You can barely see me properly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied smoothly. “You’re always cute.”

His door suddenly creaked open before you could even think of a response.

“Mom! He’s at it again!”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward the door, his face instantly turning sour. His older sister stood there, arms crossed, and seemed to be entertained at her brother, who was way out of character.

You burst into laughter.

Jungwon groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, wait—” She smirked, peeking at the screen. “Hi! Are you the poor soul who has to listen to his crap every day?”

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh. “Hi…”

“Oh my God.” Jungwon groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it toward the door. “OUT!”

His sister dodged effortlessly. “Okay, okay, lover boy! calm down.” She wiggled her fingers at you. “Bye, future sister-in-law!”

“Just saying! You’re embarrassing,” she said to Jungwon while backing out of the room.

‘’GET OUT!’’

The door shut, leaving Jungwon lying there, face buried in his pillow.

You were still giggling. “Lover boy?”

He exhaled sharply as he peeked through the screen. “We’re never talking about this again.”

You grinned. “Sure, lover boy.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I���m not,” he admitted and groaned.

[captain-acab]

I do not want to see Trump impeached. I do not want to see Trump die in office.

That might be weird to hear from an antifascist blog. But if there's one thing I really hoped the Left would learn from this election, it's that you have to play the cards you're dealt, not the ones you wish you had.

Do you know who becomes president if Trump is impeached? J.D. Vance.

And while Trump is a boorish, selfish, corrupt charlatan, he is ultimately motivated by greed. Vance, on the other hand, is an ideologue. Trump realized he could swindle the masses by going after Mexicans and trans people, but he doesn't actually care. Vance is much smarter, much more politically savvy, and much much more committed to advancing White Supremacy.

Vance wants to destroy the rights of women, non-whites, non-Christians, and queer people on principle, not just because it's personally profitable to him. His political views are farther right than Project 2025. Let that sink in.

However disastrous Trump's presidency may be, a Vance presidency would be catastrophically worse. This is our reality.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello Dorito!

Can you please write Bruce, Dick, Jason and Clark receiving a good luck kiss on the cheek from their crush before they go on a mission? I’m curious how they would individually react and what their thoughts would be. I thought it would be cute if it was pre relationship for some reason (*'ω'*)

Dick

The moment you kiss his cheek, dick just smiles softly.

‘What was that for?’ He’d ask, his thoughts going a mile a minute as to what this all meant in the long run of your relationships as he knew damn well friends didn’t kiss each other on the cheek…well unless they were close like that, but Dick typically knew it wasn’t and wanted answers before he left for the mission.

‘Good luck?’ You shrug.

‘Just good luck?’ Dick would tease, but on the inside he was hop in that this was going where he was thinking it was going, hoping he wasn’t reading anything you were putting down wrong as he didn’t want anything to be misconstrued or misinterpreted. He wanted this moment for so long and wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to having something worth coming home to; or someone worth coming home to after a long and intense mission.

Dick would look like he was confident and whatnot but on the inside he was more happier then he’s ever been in his entire life. He wanted to shout to the rooftops that he had been kissed on the cheek by the person he liked, but instead decided to play it cool and try to work his charisma into his favour with you in hopes of a date. He’s done being coy and dropping hints, the kiss on the cheek had to mean something to you as it did with him.

Jason

Blinks several times as his brain tries to accept that you did just kiss him on the cheek.

He reaches up to touch the cheek you kissed lightly as his insides were waging war with one another, he was glad that you made a move first as now Jason knew you had some liking towards him, especially if you were willing to go out of your way to kiss his cheek before he leaves for a mission.

This felt like something he had read out of many, many, many books that he never thought he himself would ever experience in his lifetime, and yet here he was being kissed on the cheek by the person who he had a raging crush on that felt like it came straight out of a movie. He’s aware of his crush on you, insanely so, but when you kissed his cheek he didn’t know whether it was with platonic or romantic intentions.

Jason wanted so badly for it to be romantic, his heart yearned for it like he yearned for you as long as he had, trying not to show just how he melted like putty in your touches and general affection towards him. Other people try to touch him and he hisses at them, but you? You could hold his cheeks and he’d be fighting to need to close his eyes and melt into your hands, feeling safe enough within your presence to do so then he ever had anyone else in a long, long time.

He knew he was fucked the moment he realised that he didn’t want to push you away but pull you in close. Jason knew he was fucked but in that moment he didn’t care because a life of love with you was a risk he was willing to to take, after all he was deserving of a sweeter aspect of life then the one he was already given.

Clark

Feels his cheeks burn as he rubs the back of his head, the feel of your lips still very much lingering on his skin.

The kiss was soft, it was sweet and innocent but it was enough to have Clark becoming a little flustered and a bit sheepish in looking you in the eye, but he managed to do so and it was obvious by the look in his eyes that it was something that would affect his mind for a long while; even when you were long from view you’ll still be in the forefront in his mind.

His voice was caught in his throat but his mind was filled to the brim with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, for as soon as you kissed his cheek and wishing him luck, you were already out of his line of sight with a knowing smile graced upon your lips upon your exit.

Clark knew that he’d have to have some words with you when he gets back, but until then he could only assume that you were both on the same page without having to speak words to one another, the attraction was clear but would need to be communicated clearly sooner or later.

Clark could only hope he wasn’t the only one feeling something between the two of you, he was hopeful that he wasn’t when you placed your hand on the s symbol on his chest and looked at him the way you did.

Bruce

Doesn’t show much change visibly but his eyes do shine in amusement and his posture seemed to straighten a little more, only the keenest of eyes would’ve seen that he had also leant into your lips when you kissed his cheek.

Bruce prided himself in being a well put together man, but the moment you kissed his cheek that collapsed in on itself, and he was left wanting nothing more then to ask for another kiss and so he did with a hint of mischief upon his tongue.

‘Do I get another one?’ He asks you.

You only shrug. ‘Only if you come back in one piece then you can have as many cheek kisses as you’d like.’

He may have made an entire playboy persona for public outings and such, but in that moment he felt like a teenager with their first crush again, wanting nothing more then to ask Alfred if engaging in a relationship with you was worth the risks. He is a smart man and knew what he wants and yet while he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t claim to know what you want and didn’t want to assume on your behalf when you didn’t say anything of substance.

Bruce knew that something was different between the two of you -outside of him having a crush on you of course- and knew that once he gets back to Gotham he’ll have to strike while he still could in hopes that you’d allow him to treat you right, and allow him to spoil you rotten once in a while, and keep you safe should you all him to have your heart by taking you on a date to your favourite place.

[evesedenramblings]

Highlights of the “In-Character” portion of the Project Eden’s Garden AMONG US stream in no particular order:

Damon introducing himself as “the Ultimate Debater. A prodigy among prodigies. Someone who simply can’t be outmatched.” And everyone going dead silent before making fun of his egotistical ass

Eva hiding in the corner of the waiting room

Diana going to the corner of the waiting room with Eva to keep her company

Kai being the reason the stream started late because he couldn’t decide the perfect look for his Among Us character

All their little characters matching them so well; Wolfgang in a little suit, Grace with bunny ears, Wenona with bear ears, Tozu’s goat horns, etc, and Eva just having absolutely nothing on

Wolfgang and Jean not knowing how to play video games and just doing their best

How utterly excited Tozu is that everyone is playing a killing game and he gets to play too

Damon yelling OH GOD DAMMIT so bad the mic reverberated after Wolfgang killed him

Wolfgang being imposter, killing everyone, and going “that was fun! 🙂”, followed by Jean going “I didn’t know you had it in you!” and Wolfgang replying with “I didn’t know I had it in me either 🙂”

Ulysses mention that apparently in-world he was supposed to attend but overslept (possible explanation that is why Wenona attended)

Wolfgang doesn’t know what tiktok is

Kai and Damon sticking together and doing tasks and everyone going “yeah okay”

^^^ My personal favourite is Cassidy telling everyone to come look at them doing tasks together on the cameras and Jean going “oh so those two were off canoodling somewhere”

Cassidy being the kind of Among Us player who bets everything on “you’ll be sorry” or “do it then” and expects it to work and is shocked every time when it doesn’t

Tozu dying early on in every game

Damon catching an imposter in a lie by saying he couldn’t have been the killer, because he was with “Kai, his very good friend”

Jean saying “a princess has to look her best” when Cassidy makes fun of Kai taking too much time in customization menu and then adding “welcome back princess” when Kai finished

Wolfgang hitting Damon with “it’s just a game” when Damon was locked the fuck in on busting Wolfgang as imposter

Diana going for Tozu first as imposter and still being an absolutely terrible liar

Cassidy correct guessing Damon as the imposter begging him loudly not to kill her in voice proximity, so he actually can’t kill her anymore, so instead he scoffs and goes “wish” before trotting off

Damon being revealed as imposter last minute and Eva yelling about how she trusted him. Kai also being there.

Grace and Wenona very clearly not knowing how the game works but refusing to admit it

Cassidy calling Wolfgang Grace’s boytoy

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO.

read the series here

THE EPILOGUE.

Seven years.

It’s been seven years since your world changed- since Matt became yours.

Sometimes, it feels like it happened just yesterday. Other times, it feels like a lifetime ago.

But no matter how much time has passed, one thing has never changed- Matt still looks at you like you hung the moon.

Your life together has been everything and more.

A Home, A Life, A Family

You graduated high school, then college. You moved in with Matt. You built a life together.

Matt always told you he’d take care of you, that he’d give you everything. And he kept his word.

Now, you live in a beautiful home, not too far from where you both grew up but far enough that it’s yours.

It’s got huge windows, a spacious backyard Matt swears he’s going to turn into a rink in the winter, and a spare room that- well, isn’t so spare anymore.

Because after four years together, you had your daughter.

She’s a mini Matt in every possible way- his beautiful blue eyes, his attitude, his ability to charm the entire world with a single smirk. But she has your heart- the perfect mix of you two.

And Matt? He adores her.

He’s the kind of dad that melts the second she so much as looks at him. The kind that lets her paint his nails, the kind that chases her around the house when she demands he play princess tag, the kind that refuses to let her go to bed without reading to her.

She has him absolutely wrapped around her little finger.

And your brother? He’s obsessed with her.

She’s his favorite person, the kid he spoils rotten, the one he brags about to literally everyone.

And of course, he’s already put her in hockey lessons.

Which Matt pretends to be offended about.

“She’s too young to be in a league!” he argued when your brother first signed her up.

“She’s four, Matt. She’s barely learning to skate.”

“Exactly.”

But despite all of his protests, he was still the first one on the ice with her, still the one tying her skates, still the one beaming with pride when she managed to stay upright for more than five seconds.

Matt acts all tough. But when it comes to her? He’s a complete softie. The same when it comes to you.

And now? Now, you’re expecting a baby boy. Your son. Matt is over the moon.

Talks to your belly every night, swears your baby boy is gonna be the next NHL star.

Which, speaking of- Matt’s doing what he always dreamed of.

He’s a defenseman in the NHL, drafted after years of hard work, pushing himself harder than anyone else, earning his spot.

And you? You made sure you could be by his side through it all.

You majored in sports management, now working alongside him, handling his contracts, sponsorships, career moves- everything.

At first, he wasn’t sure about it.

“You don’t have to do that, angel. You should do something for you.”

But you had just smiled, running your fingers through his hair, calm, certain.

“Matt,” you had whispered. “You are my something.”

And that was it. He let you in.

Now, you go to every game. You’re the first person he sees when he skates off the ice.

And after every win, every loss, every hard-fought battle on the ice-

He comes home to you.

It wasn’t always perfect, though.

It took time for things to heal. For your brother and Matt to repair what was broken.

For a long time, it was tense. They wouldn’t talk. Your brother would barely acknowledge him.

Matt was never bitter about it, but you could tell it weighed on him.

That he hated how much he hurt your brother, that even though he wouldn’t change a thing about loving you, he still wished it hadn’t come at the cost of their friendship.

But you? You weren’t going to let them avoid each other forever.

It took a lot of convincing, a lot of pushing, but eventually-

They sat down.

They talked it out.

And your brother- grudgingly at first, but eventually fully- forgave him.

Now, it’s something they joke about.

They’ll tell the story at family gatherings- how your brother nearly killed him, how Matt thought he was gonna be buried in the backyard, how it’s the one time in his life he’s ever been truly scared.

He teases Matt constantly. Says he should’ve made him sign a contract before dating you, should’ve put him through a background check.

But at the end of the day- they’re fine.

They’re better than fine.

Your brother loves you. Loves Matt. Loves your daughter.

Matt takes it in stride, lets him get his jokes in, lets him run his mouth-

Because at the end of the day?

Matt won. He got you. And your brother knows damn well he treats you like gold.

Matt proposed after three years.

He didn’t do some grand, elaborate plan- didn’t need a crowd, didn’t need some huge, over-the-top gesture.

It was just the two of you, the way it’s always been.

He pulled the ring from his pocket, his blue eyes soft, steady, full of certainty.

“Marry me, angel.”

And of course you said yes.

Now, you wear his last name, his ring on your finger, his kids in your arms.

And yeah, you're not as innocent as you used to be. Not after years with him. Not after everything he's taught you.

But in his eyes?

You’ll always be his angel. His love. His everything.

Still have that wide-eyed sweetness, that soft, trusting nature that drove him insane all those years ago.

And as you sit curled up on the couch, your daughter asleep in Matt’s lap, his hand resting on your growing belly, feeling your son kick beneath his palm-

You know.

No matter how much time passes, no matter how much has changed- you’ll always be exactly where you belong.

And every night, when he tucks your daughter into bed, kisses your growing belly, and wraps you up in his arms-

He knows.

He'd do it all over again just to get here.

Because nothing in this world is better than loving you and saying you've earned it, would be an understatement.

The End.

a/n: why am I emotional 🥹🥹 these are my babies fr. the end of an era. maybe when im missing them I’ll do an occasional check in on what there’re doing rn… maybe write a oneshot from time to time… cuz we all know ill never ACTUALLY stop writing them😭

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | smutty stuff | part 4 | part 5

it was merely sexual attraction. from the moment he saw you, he felt attracted towards you sexually. you were funny, witty, so you, and god, it hurt. he swore it was just sexual attraction.

it was a sick obsession. a throwback to his in-game personality that made him easily vulnerable to these situations. he just wanted to keep you with him all the time. but good lord, did it hurt him when you were down. he hurts for you. but he kept telling himself that it was just obsession, infatuation at least.

but the more he spoke with you, the realisation dawned upon him that he was down bad. you haunt him every night before he goes to sleep and bless him like food in famine every morning he wakes up. it was addicting. he wanted all of you and every part of you.

and it truly, absolutely, devastatingly hit him when his desire to be next to you increased tenfold. he needed you so much, it made him want to curl up into a box small enough to suffocate him and take him away from all the pain he was enduring being away from you.

so he decided to risk it all and come to you. he didn't realize he needed you that badly until that one moment when you were talking to him as usual, laughing by yourself while reminiscing something funny from your childhood. and during that time, a question popped up that made him wonder.

"you can't come here right? does that mean you'll go back to mc if this thing, you know, stops?"

and the answer was as clear as day.

he should.

but not a single inch of him wanted to. he only wanted to be with you. when all your life has been dedicated to loving someone against natural will, it crumbles in mere seconds when you find out it wasn't meant to be. and during that period of feeling inadvertently lost when you find someone who gives you a sense of self and structure to your meaningless life, you cling onto them.

you cling so tightly that the mere thought of finding someone else or going back to the life you used to have seems more scrambled than you'd expect. to caleb, it felt like a million puzzle pieces had been scattered everywhere and when he realized your existence, everything fell back into place.

but when he did try going back to his life, skyhaven, mc, and every other thing related to his past, it felt like something had ruthlessly ruined his puzzle, throwing around all the pieces left and right so he could never rearrange them.

this uncomfortable reality of his prompted him to escape, pull every string that he could and fight against the odds of time and space to reach you. it wasn't easy at all, but he knew it was worth it.

he watches as you laugh with your friend and sylus, and he wishes it was him in their place. the dull ache in his chest lingers as he notices how your phone remained untouched throughout the night, contemplating whether to text you or not.

the ache began spreading like wildfire the more he waited. and he decided it was time to stop stalling.

kale 🥬

go to your room

you spring up from your seat when you hear the sound of a notification, not expecting it so late at night. you look at andy who was passed out, and sylus was no longer visible on the screen.

your heart drops when you read the name of the sender, but it wasn't the time to wallow anymore.

you

what the fuck?

where have you been?

why are you texting me now?

you couldn't help the way your hands were shivering as you type. "what is wrong with you, caleb?" you whisper to yourself as your eyes well up again.

kale 🥬

im sorry ill answer everything but js go to your room please

you

fine

and you get up to leave the living room, ignoring the way your heart was pounding against your chest and a lump in your throat that made it difficult to breathe.

"hey," an eerily familiar voice greets you in the dark. you look around frantically only to see nothing but pitch black.

you flinch when a hand grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close to a body. a tall, lean, muscular body. you could feel his chest, a husky vanilla cologne filling your senses, overwhelming you and making you sensitive to everything around.

you try not to scream, and you didn't. everything felt oddly alright. nothing out of place, as if you were expecting it already, expecting someone already.

"did you miss me?" the damning voice whispers so close to your ear, sending a chill down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling. but at the same time, your body screamed to react violently, make it known that you were upset and angry.

and so, you turn around to face him, and push him by the chest. "what the fuck, caleb?!" you whisper-yell. he didn't budge at all, and your fingers lingered over his chest a little longer than you intended them to, but this was not the time to feel horny because you were freaking out.

you close the door behind you and everything becomes even darker. you locate yourself in front of him and grab his collar. "tell me what's happening. why are you here—no, how are you here? d-do you know how long i've waited for you to talk to me? not even a single text from you for so fucking long," you couldn't stop your voice from quivering as you punch his chest in anger, not impactful enough apparently with how he didn't wince at all.

he brings his hand towards your face to caress your cheek but you slap it away. "don't fucking touch me."

you gasp when you realise what you had just said, hands retracting to your sides. the pained look in his eyes made it so very clear. "i'm sorry, i-i didn't mean that," you quickly try to explain. nevertheless, he shoots a sad smile towards you and caresses your cheek. the warmth in his touch makes you lean towards his hand, closing your eyes to consume the sensation unconsciously.

caleb watches as you make yourself home in his touch, blushing at the hazy look on your face. 'control, control, control,' he tells himself, not wanting to take you then and there right in that moment while you were vulnerable. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to.......leave you. it took longer than i expected to figure out the way to reach your world," he finally gives you the explanation you wanted.

"is that why you couldn't talk to me at all?" your voice carried a kind of distress that made it very evident that you suffered in his absence.

caleb nods, making you sigh. "and here i thought you no longer wanted me."

he slides his arm around your waist and pulls you closer towards him gently. his thumb drew circles on your side. his other arms reaches out to your face and his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. though you couldn't see him properly, except that he was pale as fuck and practically a glow stick in the dark, you could make out his smile.

"i've waited for so long to hold you like this," he whispers softly. he could only wish that you didn't hear the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage as you snuggled into him. "mhm, me too," you mumble as you rest your head on his shoulder.

you flinch when you hear caleb wince as your hand slides around the back of his waist. curious, you let your hand wander around that area once more and you don't ignore how his body tenses up. choosing to not comment on it since you just met for the first time, you let it be for now. but you weren't going to let it go until you receive an answer.

[somerandompun]

I was going to put this in the tags but realized I have a lot to say on this.

Anywho, to begin, I am a modern-day Homestuck fan and My Little Pony FIM fan (yes, yes, I hear you, to be cringe is to be free or whatever) but my heaviest special interests rn are Bottoms, Ginger Snaps, and Wednesday, all of which either barely have fandoms due to low popularity at release (Ginger Snaps) or due to the fandom dying off (Wednesday, Bottoms).

I fuel my own fandom, essentially, writing pages upon pages of self-serving fanfic, making headcanons, etc, but I miss the type of fandoms I used to be in. Carmilla was popular when I was in middle school (lol, I'm 22 shush), and that was an insane time to be in that fandom space as it was so new, so full of life. There are still people who write for Carmilla today, though the fandom was never really "at large" due to the fact Carmilla was not very mainstream (YouTube series L).

Similarly, I do not see much of the Orphan Black or Orange Is the New Black fandoms today, both of which I also was a part of during their primes. Sure, people still write for them, but they similarly lack people who held on.

And then there's Bottoms and Wednesday, two fandoms I thought would hold on for a loooooong time given the content and all (everyone's fav nihilist and lesbian fight club), but they didn't. I still regularly read fics from both fandoms, make moodboards, the likes, but it feels hollow, no new content being generated like it used to.

I have a theory about this, mostly that most people stopped sustaining fandoms with the rise in disdain for fans in 2020, especially those viewed as "cringe," think about all the "cringe" tiktok compilations on YouTube, mostly involving kids just cosplaying as their favs. This rise in online bullying to in-person bullying sorta ostracized anyone who liked something "too much." To be quite honest, I was one of those kids in middle school, odd, strange, and "too much," and, at times, I feel like I cannot discuss my interests or share them due to feeling like I will be shoved aside and ostracized yet again.

Similarly, I think we lack heavy fandom spaces simply because people do not wish to or cannot focus that much energy on media anymore. For fucks sake, Yellow Jackets should be much more popular than it is, much like how OITNB was. Bottoms should have been a phenomenon. We MOST LITERALLY used to pray for days like these, days where shows and movies consisted of so much queer content, esp queer women! Do y'all remember how bad it was for a while? What, we had trauma porn show where everyone gets shit on or dies all the time (OITNB), lesbian killer shows (The 100), shows with toxic lesbian situationships/relationships (OB), web series (Carmilla), and fucking kid's shows (Steven Universe). Now, that's not saying those shows are bad (except for the 100, which I have a grudge against bc my Anya, MY SHAYLLAAAA), but God, I would've killed to have Bottoms or Wednesday around when I was still in school.

Anywho, all of this is just a long-winded way to say: please create content, be the change you wanna see in fandom spaces. Make that Pinterest board, be a fandom blog, post shitty fanfic, argue in the tags, make headcanons, watch and rewatch more things you enjoy, engage with things even if they feel cringy, please, fandom space depends on all of us and our passions! Do not bow to people who view creation and passion as cringe!

TO BE CRINGE IS TO BE FREE

personally I think it’s a shame how fandoms “died” too soon these days. I’m not talking in literal sense and I know there are people who stay passionate about their fandoms long after the hype is gone. I’m talking about the “popularity” and how people in general engage with a piece of media they like and how fast they let the hype die down? I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but what I’m trying to say is a fanfic or a fan art of a show that is recently released will get tons of likes, comments, reblogs which is great. but the engagement for fan made content about that same show usually drops drastically — and I mean drastically — once the show is no longer “recent”. and I’m not even talking about when the show is several years old. because you can see the significant drop of engagement a fanfic or fan art about that show receives once the show is like a month old or two. it’s discouraging how most people tend to lose interest and stop engaging with fanfic / fan art once its source material is no longer “new and shiny”.

especially when writing fanfics and creating fan art take time. writers and artists often receive less engagement / appreciation for their works if they take “too long” to create and the source material is no longer “new and shiny” and so people move on to something else that’s new and shiny. it’s heartbreaking to see.

obviously this is in no way to manipulate or guilt trip people into engaging with anything. because yeah you can do whatever you want. this isn’t to force, manipulate or guilt trip anyone into liking or reblogging a fan work or anything. this is just me hoping people will one day take things slower and enjoy things they’re passionate about longer like how we used to in the past.

[luvvictoria]

I hope you're okay

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, angst, hurt/comfort, soft but painful ending.

+ summary. Ghost never answers your messages. He never calls. He never promises to come back. But you still wait. And that’s what breaks him the most. One night, after another brutal mission, he reads your message—I hope you're okay. I’m waiting for you home. It should be simple, easy to ignore, just like the others. But it isn’t. It lingers, sinking into his bones, because you don’t ask for explanations. You don’t beg. You just hope. And he isn’t okay. He never is. But he locks the screen instead of answering — because he doesn’t deserve your concern, your patience, your unwavering faith in him. Yet somehow, he still ends up outside your house, gripping the wheel, staring at the light in your window. He shouldn't be here. Should’ve kept driving. But he couldn’t. Because no matter how far he runs, no matter how much blood stains his hands — He always comes back to you.

+song inspiration. Sper că ești bine - Sami G

+a/n. I was crying on this song so yeah, let's cry together

He shouldn’t have read it before the mission. Should’ve let it sit there, unopened, buried beneath all the other messages he never answered.

But he did.

Because his fingers had hesitated over the notification too long. Because the thought of you had curled too tightly in his chest, wrapping around his ribs like something alive, something hungry. Because, for one reckless, selfish second—

He let himself miss you.

So he opened it.

And the moment he saw your words, the moment he read that quiet, careful check-in—

Something in him fractured.

Sper că ești bine. Știu că ești plecat cu treabă, te aștept acasă. (I hope you’re okay. I know you left with work. I’m waiting for you home.)

A simple phrase. An innocent message. Just a handful of words typed out on a screen.

But it dug into his chest like a knife.

Because you didn’t ask where he was.

Didn’t demand answers. Didn’t plead for him to come home. Didn’t even ask if he missed you, if he still thought of you, if he still loved you—

You just hoped.

Hoped he was okay.

And he wasn’t.

He was cold. He was exhausted. He was covered in blood that wasn’t his. He was standing in the ruins of another nameless town, the air thick with smoke and the cries of the dying. He was watching bodies pulled from the wreckage, knowing that in a few hours, a few minutes, he’d add more ghosts to the ones already haunting him.

And you—

You were somewhere safe, somewhere warm, curled up in a bed too big for just one person, waiting for him.

Waiting for someone who never gave you certainty.

Never gave you promises.

Never gave you anything except the silence that stretched longer with each passing day.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He could have said something. Anything. A word. A reassurance. A lie.

"I’m okay." "Be home soon." "Miss you."

But his hands clenched into fists. His breath came sharp, shallow, uneven. His chest ached with something he couldn’t name, something he didn’t deserve to feel.

And instead of typing, instead of answering—

He locked the screen.

Shoved the phone into his pocket.

And let the silence answer for him.

Because he didn’t deserve your concern.

Didn’t deserve your patience.

Didn’t deserve the way you never stopped waiting for him, even when he left you with nothing.

He wishes he had answered.

He wishes he had told you.

Told you the truth.

No.

No, I’m not okay.

But God, I wish I was.

I wish I could be okay—

For you.

And now he’s here.

Parked outside your house, staring at the warm glow spilling from your window like a man watching the last bit of light before night swallows it whole.

His fingers twitch against the steering wheel. He should leave. Should turn the key, press the gas, disappear before he does something stupid.

But he doesn’t.

Because he’s already done something stupid.

He let himself come back.

And now he’s sitting here like a fucking coward, pulse thudding against his ribs, watching the curtains shift in the breeze and wondering if you’re inside thinking about him the same way he’s been thinking about you since the second he left.

But he doesn’t deserve to wonder.

Not after the way he left. Not after the silence he left you with.

He remembers it too well — the way you had stood in the doorway that last time, watching him lace up his boots, arms wrapped around yourself like you were holding yourself together so he wouldn’t have to.

You didn’t ask him to stay.

You never did.

Maybe because you already knew the answer.

Or maybe because you knew that asking would hurt more than the leaving itself.

So you had just whispered, “Be safe, Simon.”

And he had just nodded. Just turned around, just walked away, just disappeared like he always did—

And never answered your messages.

Never called.

Never gave you the closure you deserved.

But now — now —the door opens before he can think too hard about turning back.

And there you are.

Standing barefoot in the doorway, swallowed up in one of his old hoodies, looking at him like a ghost had just stepped into your world.

His chest tightens.

You don’t say anything at first. Just stare.

And he thinks — Christ, he thinks — maybe this is worse than being shot at, worse than any wound he’s ever taken, worse than the battlefield, because he knows he did this to you.

Knows he’s the reason for the hurt sitting in your eyes.

Knows that even now — even now — you aren’t slamming the door, aren’t telling him to fuck off, aren’t demanding to know why he never answered—

You just breathe in, steady, quiet, and whisper—

"Hey. You made it."

Like you weren’t sure he would.

Like you thought he never would.

And maybe, if things were different, he wouldn’t have.

But they aren’t.

And he did.

And now he’s standing in front of you, fucking ruined, heart in his throat, hands twitching at his sides because all he wants to do is reach for you—

But he doesn’t.

Because he doesn’t deserve to.

You don’t say anything at first.

Just stare at him, bare feet on the cold floor, swallowed up in one of his old hoodies like it still belongs to him. Like he still belongs here.

Fucking hell.

His throat tightens, something sharp and awful clawing at his ribs, because the sight of you shouldn’t hit this hard. Shouldn’t make something crack open in his chest like an old wound torn fresh.

But it does.

Because you’re real. Because you’re here. Because even after all this time — after all the nights he spent convincing himself that he was better off staying away — you still look at him like he’s worth waiting for.

And that — that — is the cruelest thing of all.

Then, quietly — so softly, like you’re afraid he’ll slip through your fingers if you speak too loud — say again.

"You made it."

And he stops breathing.

Tu vrei ce-i mai bine pentru mine / Mai mult decât vreau eu pentru mine… (You want what’s best for me / More than I want it for myself…)

You always have.

Even when he couldn’t see it. Even when he didn’t believe it. Even when he did everything he could to push you away—

You still wanted him.

Still held onto him like he was something worth saving.

His hands twitch at his sides, aching with the need to reach for you. To pull you close, to bury his face into the curve of your neck and feel your warmth seep into his frozen skin. To remind himself that he’s still alive.

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t step forward.

Doesn’t deserve to.

So instead, he forces his dry throat to work, voice rough and useless against the weight in his chest.

"Sper că ești bine."

I hope you’re okay.

And the words taste bitter on his tongue.

Because he doesn’t know if you are okay.

Because he knows he left you alone with silence and empty space where he should’ve been.

Because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s hurting the people who love him most.

And yet, somehow, impossibly—

You’re still here.

Looking at him. Still waiting.

And fuck, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to break your heart again.

But he also doesn’t know if he deserves the chance not to.

You swallow, blinking fast. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I am now."

Christ.

He almost drops right there.

Because that — that —is what breaks him. Not the gunfire, not the ghosts that follow him, not the bloodstains on his hands that never seem to fade—

This.

The way you look at him like he’s something worth waiting for. The way your voice trembles, but you don’t pull away, don’t shut the door, don’t turn your back on him like he fucking deserves.

You don’t demand answers. Don’t ask where he’s been. Don’t tell him to leave.

Because you already know.

Because you always know.

Imi vrei binele mai mult decât mi-l vreau eu, chiar dacă asta îți face rău… (You want what’s best for me more than I want it for myself, even if it hurts you…)

His breath comes sharp and unsteady, jaw clenching so tight it aches, because you shouldn’t do that.

Shouldn’t look at him like that.

Shouldn’t love him like that.

Shouldn’t keep putting him before yourself.

But you always have.

And he let you.

That’s the worst part — he fucking let you.

Let you hold onto him even when he knew he was slipping away. Let you reach for him even when he was already half out the door. Let you love him when he never once gave you certainty, never once promised you that he’d stay, never once did a single damn thing to make this easier on you.

And now, standing here, watching the way you breathe through the weight of him, the absence of him—

He hates himself for it.

Because the truth is, he never wanted to be someone you had to heal from.

Never wanted to be another wound you carried, another ache you learned to live with.

Never wanted to be the reason you stayed up at night, staring at your phone, hoping for a message that would never come.

But he was.

And you still chose him.

Even when it hurt. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he made it so damn hard.

And for the first time in a long time, Simon Riley doesn’t know what to do.

Doesn’t know how to fix this.

Doesn’t know if he even can.

But what he does know — what he feels in every aching part of himself — is that if you tell him to stay, if you whisper his name the way only you can—

He won’t be able to walk away this time.

Because God help him, he doesn’t want to.

He shouldn’t be here.

Shouldn’t stand in the amber glow of your porch light, casting long shadows of the man he was, the man he pretends to be, the man you think you love.

Shouldn’t let you look at him like this — like he’s something soft.

Like he’s something worth waiting for.

Și dacă plec mâine, știu sigur că nu mă uiți… (And if I leave tomorrow, I know for sure you won’t forget me…)

And that thought — that thought — kills him.

Because it’s true, isn’t it?

Even if he walked away again, even if he never answered another call, another message—

You’d still wait.

Still leave a light on. Still sleep in his old hoodie. Still keep his ghost lingering in this house, in this space, in you.

And he hates himself for that.

Hates that he let himself become something you have to live with. A shadow in the corners of your mind, a whisper in the quiet moments, a ghost haunting your bed at night.

But still—

He steps forward.

Still lets his gloved hands rise, lets them tremble just slightly as they cup your face.

Still lets his forehead press against yours.

And when you don’t pull away — when you let him hold you like this, let him breathe you in, let him exist in this quiet moment of almost—

He finally exhales.

Because maybe — maybe — he’s been holding his breath since the day he left.

Because maybe home was never a place.

Maybe it was always you.

Your breath fans against his lips, warm, steady, grounding. And then, barely above a whisper — fragile, pleading —

"Are you staying this time?"

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t have the words. Doesn’t have a promise he won’t break, a lie sweet enough to make this easier, a reason good enough to make up for all the nights you spent alone.

So instead—

He murmurs — so quietly, so desperately, that it almost gets lost in the space between you —

"Mă întorc mereu la tine." (I always come back to you.)

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his jacket, fingers curling into him like you’re afraid he’ll slip away. Like you already know he will.

And he thinks — God, he knows —that if you ask him again, if you say his name with that same thread of longing, that same quiet ache—

He won’t be able to leave this time.

His thoughts drown out the steady beat of his pulse, tangled with every regret, every what if, every night spent away from you.

Iți iubesc defectele, adică ești perfectă… (I love your flaws, that means you’re perfect…)

Because you are.

Every little thing that makes you you — the stubborn set of your jaw, the way your hands are always warm, the way you say his name like it’s safe in your mouth — is what keeps him coming back.

Every piece of you is a tether, pulling him home.

And for the first time, he doesn’t fight it.

Doesn’t run from it.

"O să-ți fac orice poftă vrei, tu în schimb să fii lângă mine, baby." (I’ll give you whatever you want, as long as you’re by my side, baby.)

The words slip out before he can stop them. A promise. Maybe the only one he’s ever kept.

And maybe — just maybe — he’ll finally be brave enough to mean it.

[jinisnuggets]

✧.* ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ?

INCLUDES | Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Sukuna, Toge, Yuta

READER | G/n

WORD COUNT | 0.5k (about 70 per character)

GENRE | Fluff, Headcanons

WARNINGS | Dirty jokes mention.

A/N | I hadn't noticed how long it had been since I last uploaded anything Jjk related.

➼ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ

Yuji

Yuji is an absolute sweetheart, he loves showering his partner with compliments and affection so they are aware just how incredible and meaningful they are. He knows his limits and is absolutely willing to surpass them if it means protecting his partner from any harm. He would be a bit obnoxious and maybe a little annoying at times, but he doesn't mind going shopping or doing other activities that you may enjoy.

Nanami

I genuinely think Nanami would be a pretty good partner. I think he would be a respectfully mature boyfriend/husband who would be affectionate at times and kiss you when stress gets the better of him. I think his partner would be his escape from the world and job, so he would treasure the time he gets to wrap his s/o around his arms and simply rest in safety and assurance.

Geto

Geto is an absolute tease, he would mock his partner because that's his love language. However, he will always assure no one makes you uncomfortable (and if someone does then we pray for that person). He will always be sure to let others know their boundaries whenever it comes to you, never letting someone take a step to close. When you feel upset, he will sit down and always listen to you.

Sukuna

Again, Sukuna is a tease and enjoys mocking his partner because that's his love language. Sukuna tends to be a bit more romantic with his teasing, often hitting you with things like “you know you love me” or the good old “Relax princess/prince.” He will sometimes (often) sneak in some dirty jokes. There's nothing he loves more than taking the initiative and seeing your flustered face whenever he gets the opportunity.

➼ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ

Toge

I think the reason Toge is here is obvious, due to his cursed speech, he is unable to speak his sentiments in a genuine manner. So I believe he'd like whenever you show small actions of care or interest towards him: things like brushing his hair, cupping his cheeks, kissing him on the forehead or cheek are all things he adores. He doesn't need much; he's content with small actions of affection.

➼ ʙᴏᴛʜ

Megumi

Fushiguro has been rightfully depicted as the “perfect man” of Jjk, so therefore he lands a spot here. He isn't a very physically affectionate partner, but he always shows he cares by listening to you attentively and assuring you with words of affirmation or advice if that's what you wish; in addition, he is very protective over his partner. I think he'd relatively enjoy whenever you take the initiative to kiss or hug him.

Gojo

Gojo can be a pretty immature person, so I think he'd be the type to show off his partner: introducing them as the great Gojo’s wife/husband, etc. Gojo would like giving compliments, but he'd also like receiving them to increase his ego. I think he'd constantly buy gifts for his partner and spoil them despite you asking him not to, but of course he likes whenever you stand up and kiss him or give him small words of encouragement.

Yuta

Yuta is another sweetheart of the series, so I think he'd always make sure to spend his time to the fullest whenever he's with you. He is constantly gone on overseas missions, so therefore, his time with you is limited. He'd spend that limited time with you and treasure it, whether it's by practice, or lunch. Picnics are common and he adores them, or other small things like drawing competitions. He doesn't care as long as you both are having fun.

[overadores]

જ⁀➴°⋆ Love Me Like A Friend

When Katseye’s main dancer, Daniela Avanzini makes her debut, no one is aware of her secret friends-with-benefits arrangement with chart-topping producer and singer Y/N L/N—a relationship they’ve kept under wraps due to Daniela’s strict no-dating rule. However, as rumors circulate about Y/N’s supposed affairs with other women, and her enigmatic song lyrics appear to reflect Daniela’s mixed signals, tension starts to build. With public speculation intensifying and jealousy brewing behind closed doors, their closely guarded secret is on the verge of unraveling, compelling them to face what they truly mean to one another.

chapter 37 - tsunami

Daniela had never been good at saying no. It was in her nature to say yes—to managers, to friends, to strangers who barely knew her name but wanted a piece of her anyway. It was easier that way, easier than disappointing people, easier than explaining why she hesitated when commitment knocked on her door.

But somehow, the one person she could never say yes to was Y/N.

Maybe because saying yes meant giving in to feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Maybe because letting Y/N in meant watching her leave one day. Maybe because Daniela had never been good at love, at holding on to something real, and she didn’t want to hurt Y/N the way she knew she would.

But she did anyway.

And now, Y/N was gone.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. They were never supposed to be serious—just friends with benefits, just stolen nights and unspoken words. But somewhere along the way, things got messy. Somewhere along the way, Y/N started looking at her like she was something more, and Daniela let her. She let her, knowing she could never offer the same in return.

And yet, when she saw the cold finality in Y/N’s expression that night, it was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Daniela wished she had just stayed in her room. She wished she had ignored the invite, had kept her phone tucked away instead of letting her face be captured in that one picture—the picture that ruined everything. She never knew how powerful the media could be, how a simple misunderstanding could tear her life apart. She had been caught at the park, someone was walking beside her, a guy reaching out to hold her hand, it was nothing, just a friend leading the way, but the internet didn’t see it that way. Neither did Y/N.

But it was never just about that one night.

Daniela had always known Y/N was patient—more patient than she deserved. Y/N had endured every whisper, every grainy instagram story, every moment that should have sent her running. Because Y/N believed in her. Believed in the unspoken explanations, the quiet reassurances, the idea that Daniela would always come back.

And she had.

Until Y/N had enough.

She had never felt this kind of loneliness before.

And the worst part? She hadn’t even realized how much she had been hurting Y/N all along. How every mixed signal, every hesitation, every night spent pretending their feelings weren’t real had chipped away at something fragile.

Y/N had always been good at understanding her. At waiting. But patience had its limits, and Daniela had taken too much for granted.

She didn’t even know if there was a way back.

Her fingers hovered over her messages, muscle memory tempting her to type out something—anything—that could fix this.

But Y/N wouldn’t see it.

Not anymore.

Maybe that was the part that hurt the most.

Daniela had spent so long running from the idea of love, convincing herself that keeping things casual meant she wouldn’t have to lose anything. That keeping Y/N at arm’s length would somehow protect them both.

But now she knew better.

Love wasn’t just about holding on—it was about showing up.

And she had failed.

The city outside her window blurred as she fought back tears, her mind looping the same memories over and over—late-night drives, shared laughter, Y/N’s hand on hers, the way she always knew when Daniela needed comfort without her having to say a word.

There was no one else she wanted.

No one else who made her feel the way Y/N did.

She had been a coward.

Daniela had spent so much time convincing herself she didn’t need Y/N.

Now, she wasn’t sure how to exist without her.

She let out a breath, shaky and uneven, gripping her phone tighter. Y/N was done with her. That much was clear.

But Daniela had never been the kind of person to give up easily.

And she wasn’t about to start now.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ masterlist next

taglist: @sunshinez4 @haerinkisser @altaroflux @kristalag@1luvkarina @p1hbrook @xochitlisbest @peanutbutterlover05 @goofymickeyr @ourlovesarang @meizinisnumberone @linnnsworld @bandaidss320 @meiphobic @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @chaepu @leotapes @gtfoiydlyj @ratzeye @cassiespoiler @wtfisthisnoclueman @bowforgodjihyo @skz-xii

a/n: very recommended to the song cuz it hits me in the feels while i was writing it.

[harmonysanreads]

Imagine Phainon with a sweet and caring and gentle lover… Him being the famous hero and everyone in Ampho is now used to the sweet girl following him around. But they don’t know, they aren’t aware of how protective he is around his little lover. Overprotective, to be more precise. Because you are so gentle and kind! He thinks you are the purest flower that has appeared in his life.

Maybe he is controlling too…

For a hero, what he must defeat is not his bane ; what he cannot part with no matter the wager, is.

Phainon wishes so often to relive every moment he's had the fortune of sharing with you again, but the day he met you for the first time might be the most prayed for. Still unaccustomed to the customs and dazzles of the Holy City he was and a blessing you were upon him, teaching him grace anew. The events that followed and gradually molded your bond, are enough to make him blush even amidst a fierce battle.

It is a story that earns much admiration and envy ; accounts dedicated to recounting your moments on the Web, forums that fawn over and wish for the downfall of this union simultaneously are evidences of it. They speak of how you two are blessed by Mnestia, a match that'd be celebrated in the heavenly realm of Aquila and many more claims you both found humor in initially.

Sweetness attracts more than just birds and bees and at the heart of every addiction, there is sugar. When so deep in love, he allows his heart to take the lead. As such, the subtle shift from chivalry to possession did not really register in his conscious mind, or, he simply didn't care enough to worry about it. What his worries were occupied with though, was you. One phone call that extended a bit too late into the night, what was supposed to be him sleeping peacefully with dreams of you disrupted with thoughts of your safety at such a time resulted him bolting to and guarding your home all night.

It was still harmless then, something you could wave off with as ‘cute’. You have always had such a pure heart, always choosing the best in everyone — even for a man like him, one with nothing but the shattered pieces of himself as offering. You never agree with the notion of the perfection he's supposed to embody, but assure him that his every blemish, every flaw makes him perfect in your eyes already — without lethargy. A Hero must be a beacon of hope for the hopeless, a sanctuary for the weak ; but even he must have a safe heaven to return to after a tiring day. Some people say you are lucky for having Phainon, but the truth is that, to say he thinks he's undeserving of you is an understatement.

His personal feelings aside, fate still brought you two together. If he feels inferior to you, it simply means that he has to treat you in a manner that is befitting of your station, your worth. For that, it matters little if he's seen as ‘lovesick’ and ‘overprotective’, if he starts bloody carnage over a few scratches, if he's always hell-bent on having your attention on him alone. He's aware of his position and he's grateful for it, but others are not like him. He could tolerate seeing Aedes Elysiae being destroyed once again, but he cannot withstand seeing you being disrespected, mistreated.

Phainon is not the best at keeping words to himself, his lips are particularly loose around you. His transparency softens your heart, but it kills him a little each time whenever you're so understanding. Even if he's shutting down the doors in others' faces, you'll smile at him. Even if he's locking you up in one place, you'll smile at him. Even if he cries, fingers trembling as his hand hovers over your leg, each twist and crack tearing apart his sanity, you'll smile — because you have as much of a bleeding heart as him.

If you sin, he'll worship it and if he sins, he knows you'll forgive him. Even if one day you refuse to look at him, he'll be fine with it, as long as the that scintilla of light he treasures stays lit.

[peace-hunter]

Question for baby prime Orion au: how do the rest of the gang take that Orion is the "lost" prime. Because here's the reaction I think they'll have:

D-16:oh primes my friend is a prime and I punch him in the face yesterday!?

Elita: oh primes, this trouble making bot is a prime!?

B-127: one of my new friends is a prime, this is awesome!!

"How well am I taking that one of my friends is actually a demi-god?" reactions from best to worst:

you're pretty much right with Bee. this has been the wildest day he's had since forever, he's very much just along for the ride and he's kinda just "this may as well happen :)"-ing through everything. he's also lowkey clinging to the one (1) good new he's gotten from this whole affair for dear life. like. he could freak out about the fact his entire life has been a lie and he's been working himself to death for a tyrant that's betrayed their entire race to their sworn enemies. or he could be happy his new best friend is extra cool now. so. y'know. glass half-full half-empty kinda deal.

Dee's reaction is,,,, complicated. obviously.

on one hand holy crap his friend is a prime that's the coolest fucking shit ever he's friends with someone directly related to megatronus prime-

on the other. this is just one more thing he's been wrong about for cycles. everything he thought was true is turning out to be a lie and even if this isn't a betrayal like sentinel's it's still something he has to accept is not what he thought it was. Orion, his best friend, the person he trusted the most, is not what he thought he was.

and even though Orion didn't know (which... is also a point of contention between them with Dee not being quite able to believe one could forget such a thing even as Orion swears over and over again he had no idea) there's still a divide between them that wasn't there before. now Orion is this almost mythological being directly created by their god for greater things while Dee is just... a miner.

now Orion is a Prime. and Dee has just found out what happens when you trust a so-called Prime.

and he also can't help but wonder, as he remembers all those times Orion ignored what he said and involved him in his crazy schemes with no regard for what he thought about it, if it's just in the nature of Primes to do as they wish without considering what it means for everyone else.

but the real victim here is elita who is experiencing a level of cringe that hasn't been seen in cybertron before nor will be seen again until maybe four million years and a war later during peace negotiations. pray for her.

baby prime orion au