#genuinely just . civil conversation !!

[froggychair05]

Seeing Parkour Civilization rise in popularity all of a sudden is so funny because my little sister had us all sit down and watch the entire series when it came out and like. It was so funny and we all got genuinely invested in the plot. It made no sense sometimes and it was goofy as heck but that’s what made it so good.

And the ending? That was crazy.

[blackwaves]

u know that talking about how much friendship doesn't matter doesn't make u a better aro person right? like ur not being any better than the people who think romance is the most important kind of relationship one can have. saying pure friendships are worse, less interesting, and mean less than romantic or sexual or a mix of all those things is just aphobic. being aroace doesn’t stop you from being aphobic

i don’t mean that as hate btw. we all make mistakes and sometimes don’t realize. i just wanted to let you know i guess. it’s not meant to be an attack or anything

i mean this incredibly sincerely when i say. i think you are reading what i am saying in bad faith. incredibly amusing ask to get in some sense, though simultaneously frustrating— you can accuse me of being a bitch (sure. heart emoticon), and you can accuse me of devaluing friendship (incorrect), but i don't think you can accuse me of being aphobic for being someone who slots my relationships into different categories than broader western society does and for thinking it's more interesting to view fictional dynamics outside of the archetypical categories esp with regards to canons that don't prescribe to them.

the reason this post begins the way it does, i.e. with a comment about valuing platonic dynamics that is ultimately ironic, is because i very vocally do in fact care about platonic dynamics— i often prefer them to romantic, and i have spent a significant amount of time being meaner about romance than i ever will be the alternatives. feel free to drop another ask just to see me talk about how much i don't like romance.

in very patient words i'll say: i don't dislike friendship; i dislike categorization that scrapes away canon information about a dynamic in favor of pretending they're Normal About Each Other and friends who are located at a Safe Distance 12 Feet Away From Each Other— i think elimination of subtext that gets interpreted as romantic whether or not it actually is is frustrating; i think prescribing clear-cut labels of "this behavior is platonic, so they should and do engage in it" "this behavior is romantic, so they should and do engage in it" "this behavior is what siblings are like, so they should and do engage in it" is frustrating; i think the counterpart where specific canon behavior is viewed as off-limits for being too coded or filled with too many undertones is frustrating; i think saying "platonic relationships either have to be family or friends and are always normal and safe and exactly what you'd expect from them, nothing messier or more undefined than that" is frustrating. and i dislike it especially because it so often requires closing your eyes to what's present in a more interesting canon in favor of pre-conceived notions.

the points about sex are less about sex as something which inherently makes a relationship more interesting (i don't believe it does. xoxo.) and more about the specific kinds of sex-negativity that circulate around this behavior— again, sex (and tension/intensity often linked to it but not intrinsically attached to it, which people will exclude + leave out of their platonic dynamics in order to not be perceived as ship) as something that isn't sacred and isn't reserved between Two People Who Romantically Love Each Other, isn't elevated. it's less friendship-as-a-concept and more about the perception of aroace people as pure, wholesome, without sin, etc.

i don't think our points are inherently at odds. i think we could have an interesting conversation about how friendship can be interesting and good, and about what behavior gets associated with romance/sex and how it isn't intrinsically that nor should it be. that would require reading my words in good faith though.

[hazmatazz]

unpopular opinion: everyone should shut up :)

[faggotry-enjoyer]

one of my classmates is a messianic, post cancelled

hebrew 101 started today and my god is it a relief to finally be in a room of people who are Normal About Jews. saw quite a few magen david necklaces, i wasn't worried someone would be a dick about my bring them home dogtag, the professor said he's from israel and used to teach at tel aviv university when introducing himself and nobody was weird about it, class is off for rosh hashanah with nobody having to ask, he played us a song in hebrew and said it was made shortly after october 7th and the following silence was sad instead of awkward. i'm not even jewish yet but i didn't realize just how tense i'd been in most goyische spaces until i was in a jewish/adjacent one and it felt like i could breathe again.

[1random-starfish]

It’s getting harder and harder to want to be around my mother.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Sometimes I see people saying stupid things and I haven't physically fight the urge to say "when's the last time you talked to your family"

[psilliguykai]

I completely agree with everything on this post, but I do have a genuine question if you don’t mind: how do you think we should be tagging/labeling things, if at all?

I am somewhat uncomfortable with romantic jashipping for personal reasons. I understand what you’re saying about relationship hierarchies and I agree ! I don’t really view romance as necessarily “above” other relationships, it just specifically feels icky to me (again, not saying it’s inherently bad, just not for me personally). I really like having clarity on what the relationships being featured in what I’m viewing/liking/reblogging etc. are, and would really appreciate artists labeling their work with the intended relationship (or if there’s not specific intent, stating as such).

I’m very open to changing my views on this if you disagree with the idea of tagging relationships specifically, but was wondering if you think it would be reasonable to. Idk .. I guess try to popularize putting like. “platonic”/“queerplatonic”/“romantic” [insert ship name here] ? Or still using “jash/cjshipping” but following it with the type of relationship? [e.g platonic jashipping, romantic jashipping, etc.]

I don’t personally feel quite bothered enough by shipping to block tags, but having at least semi-universal labels for different types of relationships [instead of what I think we have now which is basically . “This is a ship” and “this is not labeled as a ship” which I feel is too vague for the complexity of the relationships expressed in this fandom] could help people who are severely uncomfortable with it block tags, etc.

Other people can jump in too, and absolutely no pressure OP to respond! Genuinely if you need me to delete this feel free to send an ask or smth, the last thing I want to do is cause more arguments. I’m just genuinely curious about this and I want to find a way to explore different relationships in this fandom while still keeping everything comfy and groovy n stuff :]

+ since it's aro awareness week, I'll finally unleash that rant on why the state of shipping discourse in this fandom bothers me

disclaimer that i am not saying you can't be uncomfortable with jashshipping!! I don't really like romantic shipping in this fandom either. this is just a commentary on the culture surrounding this discourse and fandom shipping in general. OK LET'S GO.

I've noticed this weird distinction people make between platonic and romantic art in regards to what gets the "jashshipping" tag added. it's also incredibly arbitrary what kinds of posts are considered "jashshipping" - is a qpr jashshipping? why not? they're in a relationship. why does it matter if it's romantic or not? why is romance the only kind of shipping seen as valid, either positively or negatively?

on a personal level, I feel this pressure to always clarify that I'm not talking about romantic pairings. qprs, close friendships and relationship anarchy in general aren't seen as jashshipping, and it feels like I need to preemptively devalue my queerplatonic ships by saying they "don't really count." I need to be careful about my work not being "too romantic" or people assume I'm "jashshipping." i just find it demeaning as a partnering aromantic person.

and this culture is why people who enjoy non-romantic pairings don't want them to be tagged as ship - because there's this implication that a ship HAS to mean romance. it shouldn't, but it still does. it would be great if we lived in a world where shipping meant any kind of relationship between two characters instead of just referring to romance, but we don't.

this is why I tag ship names without tagging it as jashshipping. because the nature of "shipping" in this fandom is always implied to be romantic in nature, which is what makes it the most taboo to discuss. so I don't tag it as jashship because that's only used for romance {or for what the fandom perceives as inherently romantic actions, which is another can of worms entirely}. but elevating a romantic ship to a higher negative standard is still placing romance above any other form of relationship. there's still a hierarchy in place.

I don't think ships as a whole {hah} need to be defined by romantic attraction. it's short for relationship, after all. to designate ships as ONLY romantic implies that romance is the only valid type of relationship. and to designate romantic ships as uniquely bad still implies romance is a unique type of bond.

{I also have an issue with the implication that dating what is essentially your headmate is selfcest by default, but that's another discussion}

TL;DR - I think the culture around what designates something as "jashshipping" should be viewed with more scrutiny. it's very amatonormative to assume pairings with any level of closeness is "jashshipping," and it implies a hierarchy of relationships even if that hierarchy is negative. jashship works as a content tag for anyone uncomfortable with romantic pairings, but to imply it's an objective judgment on what's considered romance is reductive.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various !

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: veritas, jing yuan, blade

side comments: dw i promise i'm working on the house of musica requests... i just wanted to do this for fun! also this is the first time I've written for jing yuan which is kinda funny. i liked writing for blade again. originally i had welt and aventurine in the mix but i wanted to post this hahaha.

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, mentions of marriage, aventurine jumpscare later favourites: blade word count: roughly 2,085+

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

WHO ARE THEY? I "So you're asking about my significant other? Are you shocked that I have a significant other? At the very least consider your question."

FIRST MEETINGS? "I met Professor ( Name ) when they barged into my lecture, they said they were 'lost'. Since then we had several heated debates academically. Have I lost in these debates? Several times yes, consequently making debating with them all the more... interesting. Especially considering that Professor ( Name ) has a well-rounded vault of knowledge in most subjects of academic and social relevance. Finally, a conversation worth my time.

GREETINGS? "Professor ( Name ) considers a good greeting the highest attribute. A curt smile and a cup of coffee suffice, thankfully they know when to remain silent. However, there are instances when they will talk relentlessly. Initially, I used my headpiece around them. Nevertheless, their conversations do occasionally convey subtle insightfulness and definite meaning. Gradually I have come to share some liking towards their rather pleasant 'small talk'."

PARTINGS? "A small kiss on the cheek: be it on my skin or the headpiece, that is all. However, I... have always preferred it on the skin."

ABOUT US: ART "Outside of ( Name's ) academic career, they share a peculiar fondness for art. Be it painting or sculptures they could very well get lost in a museum. When they discovered my fondness for sculptures and anatomy, they were... oddly quiet; tracing their hands over my sculptures- or my face to be exact. ( Name's ) admiration is always shown in silence, one of the greatest forms of praise.

ABOUT US: TRUE APPEARANCES "I have questioned how ( Name ) has perceived our relationship. Considering that we are both colleagues, it can lead to speculation amongst other *sighs* inappropriate comments. Hence, I prefer to keep our relationship known only to those who need to. I believe them to be devout and... undoubtedly caring. I hope my attitude towards them conveys a similar message.

CHAT: WORK "Although we teach different subjects, we occasionally mark or review the work of our students. You may call it a 'second opinion'. Thus, their opinion is one that I trust."

CHAT: SERVICE "( Name's ) actions can initially appear simple-minded. However, underneath simplicity, lies thoughtfulness beyond comparison in both work... and at our residence.

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Film is not an art I deliberately take part in or seek out for leisure. However, ( Name ) was quite adamant and passionate about film. Thus, we've watched a myriad amount of films and TV shows together, both acclaimed and disdained. I have my own varying opinions. I must admit, after a long bath, a film in bed is quite soothing. Considering that ( Name ) similarly enjoys the pleasure of a bath, our nighttime routine is undoubtedly satisfying."

ARGUMENTS: "One must always think before they speak for there is a price to pay. ( Name's ) silence is decisive, deliberate and painful; burning right through your chest. Debates are loud, quarrels are bitterly silent."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Solitude is the greatest gift to civilization and self: introspection enlarges the expanse of the mind. However, the pursuit of knowledge is not only found in discovery and text. It is through experience alone. I have found much knowledge in solitude and an equal amount through genuine companionship. Hence, I share my deepest revere. "

WHO ARE THEY? II "My lover. That is who they are to me and all you need to know."

EXTRA: AVENTURINE'S OPINION "I met Ratio's lover when I visited for business matters. But, all that went out of the door! I saw a lovely individual by his desk and thought, 'Who is this?' Ratio never, and I mean never, allows anyone to screw his desk up. Yet, here they were, seated at the edge of his desk toying with his stupid chalk greeting me with a bright smile. We immediately hit off. I suppose Ratio does have some luck in him, but then again, ( Name ) was the one who first asked him out. Less to do with luck, and more to do with destiny. In my opinion, destiny is not something I fully believe in, however, when I watch Ratio and ( Name ), it's difficult to imagine a universe where they aren't together."

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

WHO ARE THEY? I "You are looking for Commander ( Name )? Sadly they're on a business trip, however, I'd be happy to answer in their place."

FIRST MEETINGS? "( Name ) is an interesting soul. I've heard of their praised skills in combat and decisive thinking. Many assume I met them on the battlefield. Yet, I met them over a coincidental cup of tea."

GREETINGS? “I find it amusing how our everyday greetings have evolved. At first it was a salute. However, I find that a kiss on the cheek is a much more efficient way of greeting and brightening up the mundane tasks *sighs* of work.”

PARTINGS? “Why bid farewell when one hasn’t said hello? Partings have always been bitter. Yet, I find comfort in knowing that all things lead back from whence they came.”

ABOUT US: AGE “Time for long life species is fickle and plainly slow. Despite that, ( Name ) has constantly made time— less daunting and more fun. ( Name’s ) life span… is a touch shorter than that of myself. Hence, they have brought forth a new value in every passing year to which I cherish. This year I plan on doing something special for their birthday— though, don’t tell them that.”

ABOUT US: SILENCE "As much as ( Name ) glows in social settings, they equally enjoy stillness, if not more. There never is any obligation to fill the void when we're together. It is as natural of an act as breathing.

CHAT: PRODUCTIVITY "( Name ) likes to be on task. I, however, don't always find leisure in such activities. ( Name ) quote, 'holds me accountable'. Of course, there are moments in which I can distract them."

CHAT: FELINES "They are quite fond of Mimi. Unfortunately, Mimi is rather... aggressive when around ( Name ) and has been for a considerable amount of time. One time ( Name ) was attempting to bargain with Mimi for her favour. *Chuckles* What a sight.

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Master Diviner Fu Xuan would frown upon it... but I suppose napping on the Seat of Divine Foresight is considered a 'pastime' when done regularly enough."

ARGUMENTS: "I do not attempt to quell the frustrations of my dearest. It is not often they disclose them to me and it does pain me to be the cause of their anger. Nevertheless, if it means the two of us will grow closer, then I will gladly offer myself to the brute force of my dearest. Of course, the swelling of regret still stains the heart."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: I've lived one life yet many all at once. Companions scattered amongst the universe and enemies whose names I've gradually forgotten. Yet, underneath the breath of my dearest, I'm simply a man in his spouse's embrace. Nothing else matters."

WHO ARE THEY? II "My most loving spouse."

EXTRA: FU XUAN'S OPINION "When Commander ( Name ) came into the Seat of Divine Foresight to help the General... he grew all the more 'lazy'. A part of me feels sympathetic towards Commander ( Name ), imagine having your own spouse bully you into doing your work? Alas, it's not my business to speak about their marital life. Besides, the two go hand in hand, like a puzzle piece clicking together. Both can do well without, but when joined together, they are a force to be reckoned with."

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Their weapon may be thin, but it pierces holes even in the most... stubborn of enemies."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Elio's script is always followed. However, ( Name ) is a detail I did not anticipate or was foretold. My body met the tip of their spear before I saw their face."

GREETINGS? "Over time ( Name ) has grown close to the Stellaron Hunters- especially Kafka. Their presence is imminent despite not being a Stellaron Hunter themselves. ( Name ) smiles whenever we meet, it has always been more than enough."

PARTINGS? "My promised end will come, yet an absurd inkling of regret remains."

ABOUT US: THE BLADE "( Name ) believes the blade to be a form of art. They had said, 'The blade dances in air with undisturbed poise and precision, a kind of mercy not known to themselves.' I asked them why they chose a spear then. They replied, 'Because I could never dare replicate it's beauty.'"

ABOUT US: WOUNDS "( Name ) never wanted to be a traveller, rather, they opted to string fabrics together with a needle and thread. Perhaps that is where their skills come from."

CHAT: MIDNIGHT "The mara is like a ghost. Yet, ( Name ) is a fool. They embrace the ghost I can't seem to remember other than its bottomless spite and fear."

CHAT: SCARS "Their hands never 'keep to themselves'. ( Name ) prefers to trace their hands over surfaces and make shapes. They tend to draw stars... so many stars."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "When there are no missions, we sleep in silence. Under the guise of sleep and their warmth, immortality does not follow me."

ARGUMENTS: "When all is said and done, silence remains."

SOMTHING TO SHARE: "If there is life after death, then I wish to meet them in the same manner, again and again with that smile and spear."

WHO ARE THEY II? "The person who taught me how to breathe and pressed their lips against my skin."

EXTRA: KAFKA'S OPINION "Blade will never admit it. But, ( Name ) cares for Blade and Blade does too. The pair will never put a name to the push and pull between them. I caught Bladie once; staring out into the open universe searching for something with a spark of life that doesn't belong to a dead body. I wonder if ( Name ) put that there."

masterlist.

[ssahotchnerr]

omg could you maybe write something about reader going to one of jacks soccer games and all of the moms are jealous of her bc she’s with hotch

not so friendly competition

omg i absolutely can cw; fem!reader, jealous suburban moms, one tries to make a pass at aaron, established relationship, small angst?, pettiness, aaron being adorable <3 wc; 1.3k

from the moment you arrived - a hand clasped in aaron's, jack excitedly sprinting ahead the two of you - you could feel the target on your back.

the warm, refreshing morning suddenly felt quite stuffy. as if strangely enough, there wasn't enough air to go around. the feeling especially solidified when aaron gave you a sweet, parting kiss - him off to uphold his coaching duties, you off to find a spot on the grass to set up your chair.

you half expected it, the feeling out of place and self consciousness; this was jack's second season playing soccer, aaron's second season coaching, and most of the players had returned from last year. long story short, and entering a relationship with aaron only a few weeks after jack's season had concluded, you were the new face.

not only that, you were missing a common trait amongst the others. you weren't, by definition, jack's mom.

it was a silly, technical notion, and it was quite possible you weren't the only outlier, but you simply wanted to belong there just as much as the others. to feel as if you belonged.

and that's definitely not how you currently felt.

despite your perception - hoping you had falsely and quickly misjudged the atmosphere - you offered the moms a smile and a hello as you got settled. you got maybe one, two responses in return, before they resumed their ongoing conversation without you. any hopefulness that remained, deflated as you sat there silently.

and while you weren't exactly listening to them, you could still make out bits and pieces of their conversation. however, your ears fully perked up at the mention of aaron. which also brought you into the discussion.

"you're with the coach?"

her question wasn't based on genuine interest, a getting-to-know-type basis, a friendly conversation starter. but, it was rather accusatory, as if you'd done something detrimentally wrong.

you nodded, your eyebrows furrowing briefly in confusion. "yes?"

"like... with him?"

oh.

the standoffish environment wasn't due to you being unwelcome, or, at least not in the way you had previously anticipated. it was jealousy, plain jealousy. they must've spent all of last season ogling aaron, and here you were, getting in the way.

again, you nodded in confirmation. a few grimaces were produced amongst several faces, igniting something deep within you, suddenly feeling very protective of aaron and your relationship.

you casually shot back, relentlessly, "why, is that a problem?"

the mom shrugged, pulling her eyes from yours annoyingly, as if you'd done her an injustice.

she didn't stop there though, uttering something under her breath. while you didn't hear what it was exactly - the low tone definitely indicated she had just insulted you in one way or another.

and choosing to remain on the civil side, you held your tongue.

the whispers continued sparingly; as much as it stung, and as much as the red-hot feeling that had settled in your body was uncomfortable, why should you let it affect you? they weren't a threat, they were suburban moms - probably peaked in high school, probably relied off their husband's salary, probably thought they were better than each and every person they came across.

you could be annoyed, but you weren't worried. the bigger picture, you had what they wanted; you had aaron. you've already won, despite any fights they attempted to pick.

"i need to stretch my legs." the same woman abruptly said, loudly to gain your interest.

she promptly rose, walking towards the team's bench. or more specifically, right up to aaron.

she was quick to strike up a conversation with him - overdramatizing her already-shrill laugh, displaying open body language, the sweetest smile she could muster up.

what did you in, a 'friendly' touch to his arm before she retreated, whenever she finished saying whatever the hell was so important she had felt the need to interrupt his coaching for.

and throughout such, aaron appeared as his typical friendly self as he engaged with her, as expected. although a look of confusion did flash across his face when she graced his arm.

your jaw clenched in anger, but you kept reminding yourself: her actions were just to spite you, just to piss you off, and you refused to give her the reaction she seemingly so desperately craved.

so when she returned, with an awfully smug look plastered on her face and dropping into her chair with a sense of pure satisfaction, you kept your focus forward. you came to watch jack's game, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

but during the mid-game break, once aaron had finished talking with the kids and they sprinted back onto the field to practice some goals, did you approach him.

"hi sweetheart," aaron mumbled into your skin as he kissed your temple, one of his hands comfortably finding your back. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, offering him a timid smile.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing." you lied, tucking yourself into his chest. you took a deep breath and sighed, smelling the traces of light sweat and grass clinging to him.

"you don't think i buy that, do you?" he asked, a gentle, almost comical tone to his words - all to lighten up your present tension. "what is it?"

you shook your head, "i don't want to talk about it..." your eyes shot over to your new best friends, whose eyes were glued to the two of you. "here."

aaron glanced over at them, profiling immediately. "are they giving you a hard time?"

after a moment's hesitation, an annoyed huff escaped you. "let's just say they're not too happy that the coach is taken."

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly, his face scrunching the smallest amount in confusion. "half of them are married."

"clearly that doesn't matter, they're still over there undressing you with their eyes." you arched an eyebrow, the scowl on your face only deepening.

"c'mon, you're too pretty to make that face." aaron lightly teased, kissing your pout gently. at the touch, your face did relax, the ends of your lips itching to turn upwards into a smile.

"oh they're gonna hate that you did that."

aaron shrugged, kissing you again. "let them."

you surrendered yourself to your smile, but you still frustratedly crossed your arms in front of your chest. "it's ridiculous."

aaron was quick to untangle your hands, holding onto them and applying a gentle squeeze. "you know you don't have competition. you have me."

"i know. that's why i feel so stupid i'm letting it bother me." you gritted through your teeth. "what did that one woman even say to you?"

"truthfully, i couldn't tell you. i wasn't paying attention." he answered honestly, his eyebrows drawing into a line as he even attempted to mentally recall it.

you couldn't help but laugh, pressing yourself more into him. "you're insufferable."

"i try." aaron joked, but his expression switched tactics, to genuine concern as he moved in front of you, "in all seriousness, are you going to be okay?"

"yeah." you brought your hands to his chest, running your thumbs against his pecs affectionately. you already were. "i have you, don't i?"

"and you could always stay here with me." aaron playfully, but earnestly offered. "and be my beautiful, thoughtful, astounding, beautiful assistant coach."

"you drive a hard bargain," your eyebrows rose, feeling his chuckle underneath your fingers. "but it's okay. i'm not gonna let them think they're running the show, or that they can step on me like that." you shook your head. "and as needed, i might have to flaunt you around."

aaron grinned, proudly. "that's my girl."

[mamaclownhunter]

MXTX Trios is so funny-

Bc you have the disaster protagonist trio and like they get along fairly well. They are talking about cultivation, hunts, monsters etc. They are socially? Functional. But they are attracting a SHITTON of disaster. You have Wife plot SQQ, ‘The Chaos’ WWX and Bad Luck God XL. They might get kidnapped and held hostage in the middle of a civil war and end up getting involved….. I am just saying.

Then in the exact opposite corner you have the Husband Trio. The MLs I genuinely can’t see them getting along at all except for a passing truce to save the mentioned above Loves of Their Lives. Socially disasters. 0 conversations that don’t involve their husbands. They are the 3 husbands whose wives are friends and they are quietly sipping their drinks in the corner. They don’t hate each other but just aren’t that social. But??? They are most likely the ones decimating the civil war calling for the heads of the hostage takers and not wanting to get involved. Least likely to have issues happen to them.

BUT THEN you have the Demonic Trio and you know for a fact WWX is the social glue and tormenting the HELL out of LBH and HC but is also the only guy that will sit there and listen to them gush about SQQ and XL for the low low price of good booze. He will engage too!!! (Read: internally know LWJ is the hottest but stirring the pot and causing drama is too much fun) Then they three of them talk about demonic things for a few hours comparing notes and doing weird testing. They torment the hell out of each other but honestly they are having fun

Meanwhile the Righteous Trio are straight up sipping tea and listening to bird song. Tranquility Bay. SQQ is posing so hard but feels so cool. XL is elated to have cultivation conversations with 2 people who aren’t HC (who he loves he is so excited to talk to HC about this interaction when he gets home) or flinching away from him. LWJ is just relaxed talking with 2 people who also have demonic husbands and aren’t immediately trying to insult WWX. They are also proper and knowledgeable cultivators.

In these trios it is a toss up if there is trouble or not.

More than likely the trio’s separately would go searching for trouble one way or another.

[auteurdefeu]

I keep thinking a lot about Alastor’s wound from an angelic weapon… that’s not meant to heal on its own, and Lucifer knows it. Those things are meant to be fatal, and it’s by some unholy miracle that the Radio Demon is still standing and pretending that nothing was wrong. But of course, Lucifer knows. It’s hard to ignore when he reeks so strongly of angelic energy.

He swears to himself that any act of kindness he shows Alastor is to spare Charlie, but he’s noticed that most of the hotel’s residence seems to have a growing fondness for him, aside from maybe Husker. So perhaps it’s to spare them all the worry that he ignores yet another pointed comment on his height to instead call out the injury.

Alastor denies it. Not that he thinks he could convince the devil himself otherwise, but it was always fun to get under his skin, be as frustrating as possible. He insists he’s perfectly fine, that looking for his weaknesses would be a bad look on Lucifer if Charlie found out. As much as he hates his daughter being used against him, Lucifer reminds himself that he’s doing this for her to begin with.

Alastor doesn’t move when he steps closer, though, baring his teeth with his signature smile as his eyes narrowed in warning. Lucifer cocks his head to the side, eyes glossing over with a golden glow as he feels the remnants of a holy injury, how wide it stretched across his torso and how deep of a laceration. If it wasn’t so infuriating that Alastor thought himself better by just pretending to be uninjured, lying to the very girl that welcomed him in with open arms, it might’ve been impressive how long he stood in his current state.

When Lucifer reaches out, sharp claws wrap around his wrist in a warning, not yet breaking skin or pushing him away. Lucifer just stared back at the Radio Demon, knowing that no civil words would be said if either of them opened their mouths. They were both stubborn. Eventually, Alastor’s grip slackens and the King’s hand pushes closer until it’s pressed flat against his chest. Though bandage and cloth remained between, a light started to shimmer, seeping out of the sinner and into the fingertips of Lucifer, where it dispersed into his natural glow. Any further mending went unseen, but a well-masked tension seemed to have left Alastor soon enough.

Upon pulling away, there was an unspoken agreement that they weren’t to discuss what had happened here. Alastor having a moment of weakness and Lucifer showing mercy upon him were not narratives they wished to spread. If Alastor became just a tad less bitter in each conversation he shared with Lucifer after that, it could easily be blamed on the fact he was no longer bleeding out, rather than any genuine appreciation he might’ve had for him.

[cultven]

Hello! Can I request homelander x human reader? Maybe he has some kind of messed up obsession with a Vought employee that gave him a huge cupcake on his birthday but she is just completely blind to it. Like he's just obsessing constantly like "I swear if someone touches you I'll-" and she's just like "hm, he must be hungry" Id love to see what you do with this plot if you decide to use it. Obsessed x dense is such a funny kind of ship to me.

Strawberry Cupcake

Homelander X Reader

Content: Protective Homelander, Jealousy, he is obsessed! and you adore him too, some threats, lots of touching (in non-sexual ways), semi-harassment from a side character but not really

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Non-graphic threats

a/n: I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS GIF also I am currently watching The Boys for the first time and have not made it to Homelander’s birthday episode yet so I changed the request a tiny bit, ty

It began with a cupcake—such a small insignificant gesture for the sender, but a brain-rewiring occasion for the receiver. Homelander stood there, dazed, looking at the large treat on the seven-shaped desk, right in front of his chair. He was publicly celebrating “500 crimes prevented” recently, but the majority of it was just a PR stunt. They faked the last crime, making it extra flamboyant so that audiences had something to gawk over. Vought needed more interest so they threw together some tacky event with overpriced merchandise and a speech from Homelander himself. With a tentative hand, Homelander reached out and held the cupcake in his gloved hand. It couldn’t have been an outsider that gave this to him, no one steps into this room besides those he allowed. Examining it further, he noticed a pink slip on the table next to the cupcake. 

‘In celebration of 500 crimes! Thank you for protecting us. -Y/N’

A simple message, a display of gratitude he receives from strangers all of the time. So then why does this feel so different? So personal compared to the other thanks he gets? He licked some frosting. Strawberry, his favorite. He felt a smile grow on his face. Perhaps it was because you were the only employee to thank him for all the fake-heroic work he has done, or because you were observant enough to know his food preferences, but he needed to find just who you were. 

Immediately he went to Ashley and demanded she find who this Y/N person was. The first time he saw you he was instantly drawn to your demeanor. You didn’t seem scared of him, even though as a higher-ranking employee you should be at least aware of his capabilities. Homelander quickly shooed Ashley away and began to make a civil conversation with you, thanking you for the cupcake with a genuine smile. You happily mirrored a smile back, showering him with praise but also trying to make regular conversation. You didn’t want to seem like a fan or anything. 

The time you spent together was refreshing, humanizing. You treated him not as a machine like so many others before you had. You eagerly indulged in whatever topic Homelander brought up, sparking even more interest in the man. As the night concluded he decided to test you. 

“You do realize that the whole ‘500 crimes’ thing is fake, right?” He said it with a tone intended to make you feel stupid for getting the cupcake, despite his undying gratitude for the small gesture. He needed to know what your reasoning was, or if your pretty little face was just not paying attention to the work they do at Vought. 

“I know! But, I dunno. It still seemed like a cool thing to pretend to celebrate. Plus, I’ve been getting into baking and thought, why not make you something? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” You said with a soft smile and a sweet expression. You were so fucking oblivious to the fact he could snap you in half without a second thought it was adorable. But it also scared him, were you that dense in the real world to criminals? With even just meeting you he couldn’t bear the thought of you being injured. And thus began Homelander’s mission to be your guard dog in the shadows. 

He was always there, whether you knew or not, keeping an eye on you. He was horrified when he found out you walked home alone from Vought when your shift was over. Were you stupid? No, he knows that’s not the answer. You were just too kind to ever assume that there were people out there who could harm others without a second thought. It was honestly a miracle you’ve made it this far without his protection. But no need to fear now, he’s got your back. 

When he is making himself known he’s constantly obsessing over you, to the point where everyone else in the room can tell but you. One day Homelander brought you along for a promotional event Vought was hosting for a sponsor. He held your hand the entire time backstage, wanting to keep you close. For the moments where he was forced to be somewhere else God forbid anyone else enter your vicinity because they would have a very stern talking to later by America’s favorite superhero. 

“Y/N, just stay here okay? I’ll be back in a bit. If anyone tries to do something tell me, and I’ll fucking blast their heads off sweetheart.” Homelander looks at you with a serious expression, but you only smile at him back. You believe he’s always exaggerating with his threats, despite it being the exact opposite. If anything, the threats are always tamer than the punishment itself. 

“I know, I know. Anybody talks to me, you'll kill them.” You said with a smile, briefly touching Homelander’s nose with your pointer finger. “You’re so cute. Go get ‘em, tiger.” You shoo him away to Ashley, who is waiting with a bored expression. She’s seen this display a million times, of Homelander swooning over you and you not picking up a single hint. The times when he would make Ashley call you into his office just so he could rest his head on your lap at the end of a particularly long day. When you were running late once to a meeting and Homelander searched the entire city in under two minutes because his overactive mind convinced himself you were dead in an alleyway and he had failed you. When he returned disheveled and ready to burn the entire building to the ground he found you were just in the bathroom touching up your makeup and lost track of time. Somehow in his haste of panic, he didn’t think to check the building and immediately assumed the worst. Ever since that incident, Ashley has made sure you were on time for every event now. She was sure he even leveled a mountain for you once after you thought it had the perfect view for a picnic, but no room for a proper picnic blanket. 

Yeah, the dude was obsessed. This brought about some problems at Vought, but anyone would rather jump off a bridge than confront Homelander about his little obsession with you. 

It was another typical day, Vought had just begun filming for a TV show about The Seven. Naturally, they filmed Homelander’s segment first. You sat in said superhero’s dressing room and watched as he perfectly combed his soft blonde hair into place. You had a stupid smile on your face, gawking at the incredible man in front of you. “You’re gonna do great today! I’m so excited to watch your film.” Homelander looked over and saw you practically jumping in your seat with excitement. It warmed his heart to see you so genuinely enjoy him doing simple tasks like mindlessly talking to a camera for hours. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Homelander puts down his comb and saunters over to your chair, bringing you into a sudden hug. In truth, he can’t stand physically being away from you for more than an hour. He feels right when he’s with you, he feels like John, not Homelander. It’s such an overwhelming feeling of comfort he feels, he could cry each time you touch. If this is what true love feels like he wishes all his enemies feel it so he can rip it away from them. How excruciatingly painful that must feel shakes him in maniacal ways. 

“John?” You’ve become accustomed to using his real name with him by his request. The simple title shakes him out of his thoughts and brings them back to your shining face. “What’s the hug for? Not that I’m complaining but…” You trail off, arms wrapped around his torso reciprocating the hug. 

“Can’t hug my girl?” He playfully smiles, squeezing your small body with only a percentage of his power. We all know what would happen if he did it with full force. He leads you out into the hallway in front of his dressing room door. The expression he wore was akin to the face a puppy makes when it gets kicked. “I have to go film, but remember if anyone fucking touches you I’ll burn them until their unrecognizable,” Homelander said with a nonchalance that should have horrified you, but you simply smile when he pats your head, kisses your cheek, and leaves the room. As you turn to go your own way you see an intern for the television company standing there, mouth agape. Their expression was almost laughable. 

“He just must be hungry!” You giggle. 

As the day progressed Homelander became increasingly irritated over the fact he hadn’t seen you in hours. The underpaid employees were consistently getting berated and yelled at by the man. “Go find Y/N…” Ashley whispered to an intern after a particularly realistic threat spewed from Homelander’s mouth. 

Looking up from his tiny rampage, it was evident that Homelander had heard the request crystal clear. Deciding he was done with idiots for the rest of today he left with a grumble, “Don’t bother, I’ll find her myself.” 

Finding you wasn’t the problem, it never is with Homelander’s unique abilities, but finding who you were with was something else. Somehow a random D-list superhero had found its way onto the set and decided that you were the lucky girl who deserved his charm today. Unlucky for that man, Homelander’s already sunken mood had just become much more severe. He was clearly making you comfortable, backing you into a corner where you couldn’t escape. He wasn’t quite touching you, but he was only a breath away from being able to. The sigh almost activated Homelander’s eye beams right then and there. He felt animalistic, and territorial over you. 

With the best fake expression he could muster, which wasn’t very good, he casually walked over to the two of you. As the man next to you saw who was approaching his eyes lit up and his body seemed to forget you were there, so enthralled by the man in front of him. Wrong reaction. 

“Homelander, sir! Wow, it’s such an honor to meet you.” His hand stuck out, waiting for a handshake it would never receive. 

“Right,” Homelander’s smile was strained. “And what is going on over here?” 

The man seems taken aback by the question, not quite sure why Homelander was interested in what was happening. “Oh, um, me and girly over here are just chatting. Think I might get to home base tonight, if you know what I mean, haha.” He winked at Homelander, a disgusting and provocative gesture. Gauging your reaction to this comment, a look of fear in your eyes and a pleading look sent John’s way, he almost evaporated the man right then and there. But he kept his cool, he wouldn’t want you to see all the dirty work he has to do after all. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Homelander said plainly, making the other superhero, if he could even call himself that, cringe at himself. John stood there, eyes now locked on you. You looked so fragile in this position, like something he needed to protect. Sometimes he felt his abilities were given to him for that sole purpose; to protect you from the world. Even if that wasn’t the case he does so anyway. 

“Right, well, um…” The man stuttered out, embarrassed at the exchange. 

“What are you doing here? It’s surprising they’d invite a D-tier superhero to a Vought shooting.” Homelander questioned, changing the subject away from you. This seemed to bring the man’s personality back. 

“Ah! Well, they wanted to include a segment where you were helping smaller heroes, you know, to show you don’t care about status and everyone is equal.” 

“Well isn’t that nice?” Homelander’s grin toward the man only became increasingly artificial, smile lines dancing on either side. He turns to you. “We’ll be right back, sweetheart. Just going to chat about the show a bit.” He winks at you, before ushering the man away out the back. 

It was an hour later when Homelander came back, seemingly much calmer now. Ashley began yelling at him, scolding him for making them wait before he shoved her aside and beelined for his dressing room where he knew you were sitting all pretty waiting for him. 

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He cooed, walking over and taking you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo entering his system. 

You giggled. “Where have you been? Still talking to that one guy? I don’t really like him, he was being weird.” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He wasn’t a good fit for the show anyway.” Homelander wiped a bit of charcoal off his suit. “The team decided to fire him.” 

“Mhm, I don’t disagree with that notion.” You nuzzle into Homelander’s chest before noticing a small box he was hiding behind his back. “What’s that?” 

“Oh, this?” A wide smile played on the man’s lips. He presented the box, a red ribbon sealing the deal. “A present to cheer you up from earlier.” You thanked him before eagerly taking the box into your soft hands. With one fell swoop you managed to untie the ribbon to reveal one strawberry frosted cupcake that you then both shared. 

[traegorn]

Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

[jacquitries]

To Claim What's Mine | D.M.

Draco Malfoy always thought his arranged marriage to you was just another family obligation. But when the Yule Ball exposes how easily others are drawn to you, Draco realizes he might be the one at risk of losing something he never knew he wanted.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

The arrangement had been sealed long before you could walk. A union of two pure-blood families woven together by tradition and expectation. You had grown up knowing that Draco Malfoy would one day be your husband. It was a fact as ingrained as your connection to Slytherin and your family’s legacy. But to Draco, it had always felt like another responsibility, another box to tick off in the endless list of duties his father quietly demanded of him.

For years, Draco regarded you with detached civility. You were a Slytherin, sharp and composed, fitting perfectly into the mold your families expected. He didn’t dislike you—far from it. But he kept his distance, interacting only when necessary, carrying himself with the air of someone fulfilling a requirement rather than engaging with a person.

It was the Yule Ball that changed everything.

The moment the announcement had been made, Draco knew it was assumed you’d attend together. He hadn’t even asked. Why would he? Of course, you would be on his arm. Yet, as the ball approached, Draco noticed something unsettling. You had started attracting attention, and not the kind he could ignore. Ravenclaws, even a few Gryffindors, would linger in conversation with you longer than was polite. Theodore Nott teased him about how charming you had become, and even Blaise Zabini gave an approving nod in your direction.

Draco brushed it off at first, scoffing at the idea that anyone could challenge what was already decided. But irritation grew, festering into something he couldn’t quite name. He caught himself watching you too often, tracking the way you laughed at someone else’s joke, how your eyes sparkled when you were genuinely amused—a look he'd never bothered to earn himself.

On the night of the Yule Ball, you were radiant. Draped in deep emerald that complemented Slytherin's colors, you looked every bit the pure-blood princess your families expected. Yet, Draco couldn’t ignore how his chest tightened when he saw how others’ gazes lingered on you. You were his betrothed, but suddenly, that fact felt fragile, almost threatened.

Throughout the evening, Draco’s grip on your hand was just a bit tighter than necessary. He leaned in closer when others tried to engage you in conversation, his words laced with a possessiveness he couldn’t disguise. As the evening wore on, Draco found himself retreating into a quiet corner of the ballroom, watching you with an intensity that surprised him. You were talking to a group of boys from Ravenclaw, laughing softly at something one of them had said. Your smile was effortless, your presence commanding yet unassuming. The other boys were entranced by you, hanging on to every word you spoke. Draco’s jaw clenched as his grip on his glass tightened. Why did it matter so much?

He had always known this marriage was part of his duty. But tonight, seeing the way others looked at you, made something shift in him—something he hadn’t anticipated.

You had always been there, part of the plan. But tonight, you weren’t just a fact, a part of the family’s arrangements. You were you—someone who could stand on your own, someone others found irresistible, someone who could be taken away from him if he wasn’t careful. The realization hit him like a sharp breath in his chest: He didn’t want anyone else to have you. He wanted you for himself.

"Malfoy," a voice broke his reverie. He turned to see Blaise Zabini standing nearby, his expression calm, as always. There was no teasing, no smirk. Just a quiet, steady gaze. "You’ve been staring at her for quite a while. You should be careful."

Draco didn’t reply immediately. His eyes flicked back to you, who was now talking to Cedric Diggory, a friendly but obvious flirtation in their exchange. He hated it. He hated the way Cedric’s hand brushed against your arm, the way your smile grew wider when he spoke. Draco’s knuckles turned white as his grip on his drink tightened further.

"I’m not sure what you're getting at," Draco said, his voice more clipped than usual. He tried to dismiss it, but the unsettling feeling gnawed at him, refusing to be ignored.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, a subtle shift in his demeanor. He didn’t need to say more. His silent observation was enough.

Before Draco could respond, Blaise gave him a subtle nod toward you, then turned, walking off with his usual composed gait.

Draco stood there, his thoughts spinning. Blaise had always been direct but never rushed. The truth of his words settled in the air like a subtle pressure, leaving Draco with an uncomfortable awareness of how much he had been ignoring.

He couldn’t let this go.

"Y/N," he heard his voice before he even realized he was moving toward you. His heart was pounding in his chest, but his steps were purposeful, his hand extending toward you.

You glanced up, clearly surprised, but a soft smile curled your lips. "Draco," you said, your tone a mix of curiosity and amusement. "I thought you were busy observing the proceedings."

"Forget them," Draco said, his voice lower than usual. "Dance with me."

Your eyebrows arched, amusement still dancing in your eyes. "But I’m already with Cedric."

Draco stepped closer, his hand still outstretched. "Then stop."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and for the first time, Draco felt a weight to them. Something unspoken but heavy, something that made him feel more vulnerable than he had in years.

You hesitated, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. Then, with a soft sigh, you placed your hand in his. "Alright, Malfoy. Lead the way."

As you moved to the center of the ballroom, Draco was acutely aware of every movement, every step. His fingers brushed the side of your waist, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was simply going through the motions. The dance was effortless, your movements in sync, but it was different this time. It wasn’t just about appearances anymore. It was real.

The music swirled around you both, but Draco could only focus on the feel of you in his arms, your warmth, your presence. He had never really seen you before. Not like this. But now, with each passing moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

When the music softened, Draco took a breath, gathering his thoughts, and then he spoke, his words deliberate. "I don’t want anyone else to have you, Y/N."

Your gaze softened, your expression unreadable, but your voice was calm. "What do you mean, Draco?"

He looked into your eyes, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "I care about you, more than I realized. And I... I don’t want anyone else to take what’s mine. I’ve never wanted that. But now, I can’t ignore it. Not anymore."

Your eyes studied him for a long moment. Then, your lips parted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Draco, you’ve always had me. You just haven’t been paying attention."

The words sank in slowly, like a revelation. You had always been there, always so close. And yet, it had taken him until now to truly see you.

Without thinking, Draco leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and full of something more than desire. A promise, an unspoken commitment. For the first time, it wasn’t just about duty. It was about choice.

When you finally pulled apart, your faces still close, both of you breathless, Draco whispered, "What now?"

Your smile was soft, genuine. "Take me to Hogsmeade, have a proper date. And after that? We’ll see where this goes."

Draco’s heart was pounding, but he knew exactly what he wanted now. "And after that," he said, with a confidence that felt new and exhilarating, "I’ll figure out how to make it permanent. But for now… you’re mine."

Your smile grew wider, a sense of warmth radiating between you both. You didn’t argue, didn’t hesitate. It was an unspoken agreement, a beginning.

[terriblesoup]

Where the light lingers

A/N: k so ik that I said it would be a long fic but I think this is a perfect length for it, more and it would be dragging.

Pride and prejudice au, sfw, soft.

yall are gonna like because I like it and I'm picky as hell.

The first time Sylus met her, he was convinced she would be the end of his patience.

It was an evening drenched in golden light, the kind that softened the rigid lines of the world and made even the sharpest truths seem momentarily gentle. He had no use for such illusions. The estate’s gardens were lively with chatter, an unbearable buzz of pleasantries exchanged like currency, though he had long since ceased to care for society’s games.

And yet, there she was.

She stood apart from the usual crowd, not in the way one might expect. There was no air of careful distinction about her, no deliberate effort to outshine or impress. She was simply... at ease. Engaged in conversation with someone who hardly seemed worth her attention, yet she listened as though every word mattered. Her laughter, unrestrained and genuine, cut through the tedious politeness of the gathering, drawing attention despite itself.

Sylus was annoyed before he even understood why.

It wasn’t until they were formally introduced that he felt the first tug of something unexpected. Her gaze met his without hesitation, without expectation. There was no deference, no quiet acquiescence to his presence. If anything, she seemed... unimpressed.

He had long since grown used to admiration, to the weight of assumptions placed upon his shoulders before he even spoke a word. But she, with her measured look and easy smile, seemed perfectly content to view him as nothing more than a man she had just met.

Sylus disliked it immensely.

And yet, he found himself watching her more than he meant to.

The weeks passed, and by some wretched twist of fate, their paths continued to cross.

She had a way of drawing attention without meaning to. Not through grand gestures or loud proclamations, but simply by existing in a manner that defied expectation. She was clever, but not cruel; sharp, but never unkind. And, to his dismay, entirely immune to his carefully maintained distance.

They clashed more often than they spoke in civility. Not because she sought to argue, but because she questioned things others would never dare to. Where others nodded along to his statements, she countered. Where others shied away from his sharp words, she met them head-on.

Sylus told himself it was infuriating.

He refused to acknowledge the truth of it, that he was beginning to anticipate their meetings more than he should.

There was an evening when the air turned cold too soon, when the fire in the drawing room flickered low and restless. He found himself seated near her, not by choice but by circumstance. He told himself he would ignore her, that her presence would mean no more than any other person in the room.

And yet, she spoke to him.

“The sky is stubborn tonight.”

He glanced at her, drawn from his thoughts. “How so?”

She nodded toward the windows, where the last remnants of light clung desperately to the horizon. “It refuses to give in to the night. Look at it, it lingers, holding onto something it can’t possibly keep.”

Sylus studied her for a long moment. “Perhaps it knows the night is inevitable, but fights for what little remains.”

She turned to him then, something unreadable in her gaze. “Or perhaps it is simply afraid of the dark.”

A silence stretched between them, heavier than it should have been. He had spent years perfecting the art of conversation, of measured responses and effortless dismissals. But she was not the kind of person who allowed words to be meaningless.

For the first time in a long while, Sylus did not know what to say.

He did not want to care. He reminded himself of this fact often, as though repetition might turn it into truth.

But care he did. Against his better judgment, against every ounce of logic, he found himself watching her more often. Noticing things he had no business noticing; the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the quiet way she hummed when she believed no one could hear.

And worst of all, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He had spent so long believing himself above such things. Love, sentiment, attachment, these were burdens he had been raised to avoid. They clouded judgment, made men reckless.

He told himself he was not reckless.

He told himself he did not want her.

It was a lie he could not hold onto forever.

The moment everything shifted was not grand or dramatic. It was not the result of some catastrophe or revelation. It was simply an afternoon like any other.

She had been speaking with someone else, entirely unaware of his presence. The sun was bright, casting patterns of light and shadow across the garden. And then she laughed...

And Sylus knew.

It was not a sudden realization, not some poetic awakening. It was quiet, steady, something he should have known all along.

She had already unraveled him, thread by careful thread. He had been a fool to think otherwise.

But knowing was not enough.

There were still barriers between them, some spoken, others merely understood. She was proud, and so was he. But her pride was of a different kind, it was not arrogance, but certainty. The knowledge that she deserved more than what he had been willing to offer.

And so, he would have to be better.

He did not know if he was capable of such change. He did not know if she would ever see him as something worthy of her regard.

But for the first time in his life, Sylus was willing to try.

The courtship was unspoken, a quiet thing woven into the fabric of their days. He lingered in places he never would have before, listening when he would have once dismissed. She softened toward him without meaning to, the space between them closing in increments too small to measure.

Then, one evening, as she stood in the soft glow of candlelight, he found the courage to ask: "Would you ever consider loving me?"

She did not answer right away. Instead, she studied him, as though weighing something far greater than the question itself. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I think I already do."

Sylus, for all his certainty in the world, found himself entirely undone. And as she reached for his hand, fingers threading through his as though they had always belonged there, he thought, perhaps, for once, he did not mind being undone at all.

Their courtship in the days that followed was tender, filled with hesitant steps forward and secret joys too fragile to share. She turned toward him a second too late after he'd already looked away. He memorized the cadence of her laughter when she forgot herself. They spoke in half-sentences, unfinished thoughts that the other somehow understood.

They walked in the gardens, always keeping a respectable distance, yet every shift of the breeze felt like an excuse for their fingers to nearly touch. He found reasons to hand her books, each exchange lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. She sought him out in quiet moments, in drawing rooms and moonlit corridors, speaking of nothing and everything.

At times, neither dared to meet the other’s gaze for too long, afraid of the truths it might reveal. But when she caught him watching her, and when he did not look away, the world felt smaller, as though it had been shaped just for them.

The anticipation of what lay ahead, the promise of a future bound together was more intoxicating than either had imagined. And yet, beyond the formality of proposals and promises, there was the quiet excitement of simply knowing. That soon, she would no longer have to glance over her shoulder to see if he was there. That soon, he would have no reason to resist reaching for her hand. That soon, they would belong to one another, with nothing left between them but love.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission.

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: jungkook hasn’t had any drinks so far, but he’s the rawest he’s ever been.

alternatively, jungkook has three separate conversations while he’s at the club.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

Yoongi always finds some way to piss Jungkook off.

Your husband isn’t sure if he’s just that easy to piss off or if Yoongi really is an extremely annoying person that gets on everyone’s nerves (his especially), but regardless, your friend always finds some way to set him to the edge.

Jungkook almost bended a fork with his teeth when you called out baby along with your subsequent request for him to pass the sauce, but even before he could reach for said container, Yoongi (who was sitting on the other end of the table) dashes over to your seat to give you sauce and piss him off in the process.

He almost grabbed Yoongi by the hair that one time when you were on your last shot on your film camera and you wanted to take a photo of them, but right at the last second of you taking it, Yoongi told him there was a cockroach by his feet which immediately made it look like Jungkook was bowing to him. He’s already ripped up the picture as soon as you got it developed, but the anger at the seemingly surface-level tricks he pulled on him always ate at him.

Jungkook only texted Yoongi awhile ago, and while he wasn’t expecting an immediate reply given the time difference, he almost wished the latter didn’t even respond in the first place. 

you’re hwayoung’s godfather

look after her while i’m gone

The two of them have been civil, maybe even friendly at best, since yours and Jungkook’s month-long break before Hwayoung came along; Jungkook doesn’t expect much from Yoongi except for the bare minimum — the problem is that Yoongi himself wants to go above and beyond.

i know that

i don’t need you to be gone for me to look after hwayoung lol

Jungkook huffs at the insinuation, brows immediately knitted as he tries to focus his eyes on his phone that seems to be the brightest source of light in the dimmed, packed club.

?

He can admit to himself (to you too, but never to anyone else especially Yoongi) that he can sometimes go overboard looking in between the lines. It’s this nagging feeling in Jungkook’s brain that he needs to analyze everything from all angles when it concerns you and the people who are fond of you. It’s this irritating quirk of his that he himself hates because he can’t be placated at the thought of something, someone, getting in between the two of you.

Especially if it’s Yoongi, even if he’s already sworn up and down that he’s moved on from you.

Most especially Yoongi, who’s close to his family in more ways than one, now that he’s left for the meantime.

i’ll take care of y/n too dw :)

Jungkook seethes at that, his thumbs already moving on their own accord to type out a reply he barely has the consciousness to discern. He can’t bring himself to read in between the lines now; now, when he’s apart from you and Hwayoung and there’s neither a husband nor father figure at home, and now, when everything dawns on him that everything that’s happening now is real.

go fuck yourself

Everything in and out of Jungkook’s reach is real. The fight you had two days ago was indeed real, and what reminds him of that is your messages that only detail about Hwayoung and nothing else. Yoongi being h*mself which is an annoyance within its own, is real and is proved by the laughing reaction that he only attached to Jungkook’s very genuine, very offensive profanity.

Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to entertain the possibility that Yoongi’s only messing with him as per usual. He doesn’t have the energy to detangle the complicated knots in his mind that all point to him being the reason for his own undoing.

The only energy that your husband has at the moment is to switch apps, regulate his breathing, and head straight to the live footage from the security camera in Hwayoung’s room. Jungkook feels sane again (maybe even the feeling greater than contentment, but not more than happiness) when he sees the two of you pop up on screen, your laughs immediately drowning out the blaring music.

“My pretty girls,” he mumbles under his breath, his thumb twitching to switch between apps again and finally have the courage to actually talk to you about what happened and not just fawn over how Hwayoung’s breezing through her milestones while he’s been gone.

He hasn’t had anything to drink yet, and while he’s relieved at that, there’s a sense of cowardice that creeps up in Jungkook’s throat. He feels pathetic and unsurprisingly, characteristically weak when it comes to you.

Your husband settles for pushing the button that makes the security camera ding, indicating that he’s indeed watching you and Hwayoung, before he screws his eyes shut in fear that you’ll only scowl at him through the screen.

You don’t.

Instead, you only smile lightly. You’re tired and you’re filled with pent-up sentiments because you can’t exactly gossip to Hwayoung how her dad has been frustrating you to no end lately, and yet, you still smile for him because she’s watching.

There’s a knot that forms in his throat when you prop Hwayoung in front of the camera and coo at her to wave because he’s watching. There’s this unmistakeable sting behind Jungkook’s eyes because he’s reminded yet again that everything’s real; that unlike him, you’re not weak. 

You’re filled with so much love as evidenced by the way you look at Hwayoung with no fear at all of messing everything up, and it makes Jungkook choke over nothing. You have your fears too, but not one of them comes close to the degree that his doubts are in — perhaps you do have a fear of losing everything just like he does, except the resounding difference is that you’re not a coward like him.

Namjoon’s jostled him atleast three times for the past ten minutes and he’ll succumb to his friend sooner or later, but not now when Jungkook rethinks every word he’s ever said and how he misspoke, not now when he’s made the mistake of even calling Eunsu as his muse when he can’t even grasp the weight of the word when he calls someone else that in front of his wife.

Jungkook’s still a coward, with or without a drink, but he’s in the latter state when he brings out his other phone to finally call you.

He sees you flinch silently through the security camera, gaze averting from a napping Hwayoung on your lap to your phone that’s ringing. You purse your lips in hesitation yet you don’t quiver, accepting his call but not without looking straight at the camera before you do.

You’re neither unattached nor resigned with Jungkook — you’re simply stuck in the middle with him, even if the demarcation about who gets the shorter end of the stick is unclear.

“I didn’t mean anything I said last night,” he admits straightly, sparing no time as his chest tightens.

“You sounded like it,” you frown, absent-mindedly stroking Miso’s fur who just conjured out of nowhere at the exact time your husband called you.

“At the time, yes,” he sighs heavily, the knot in his throat refusing to unravel even if he’s already baring his truth. “But at that time too, I was beyond stupid a-and emotional. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I know me being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse,” Jungkook swallows, his hand cupping the air instead of a shot glass reminding him of his stupidity. “I was out of it. I couldn’t keep everything in check.”

Your voice remains hushed, but you don’t have it in you to discern if it’s only because Hwayoung is sleeping on your lap, or if talking to Jungkook lately robs you of your will to be on the same level as him.

“You could’ve told me as soon as you felt… that way, Jungkook.”

He sucks in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries not to cry rethinking about your fight. “I did try to, but as soon as you did, you asked me if taking care of Hwayoung felt like a chore to me.”

“Does it?” you ask again, ironically coinciding with Jungkook’s point that it makes him chuckle lightly. You were always so stubborn — almost always similar to his temperament.

“I respect you a lot, Y/N. You put a roof over over our heads, you put food on the table, you have everything figured out.”

“Jungkook,” you mumble, sensing the inevitable conjunction that separates the both of you further.

“But I’m the one who knows what I’m feeling the most, not you,” Jungkook sighs shakily, voice hushed even quieter than the way you look at him silently through the screen. 

He can see you, but you can’t see him. 

“We’re both parents to Hwayoung at the end of the day but in that— in that same day, you spend more time being the working parent while I’m the stay-at-home parent,” he confides, his tone gentle and slow unlike the way his drunken nature persuaded him otherwise. “Taking care of Young-ie isn’t a chore for me. Yes, it’s repetitive. I-it could be exhausting and draining but that’s what it comes with being a dad. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s with her. I’m bound to feel this way,” he pauses, breath hitching. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away for all the shit I said. I’ve been unfair springing all of this on you on such short notice.”

You look straight at the camera, bottom lip quivering as you wrap your head around Jungkook’s sober vulnerability.

“I’ve been unfair too,” you mutter, eyes downcast because even if you can’t see Jungkook, there’s a false image of him that floats in your mind, belittling you for not being enough. “I didn’t see it from your point of view.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, the noise of the club being expertly drowned out even through the distortion of the line.

“You can forgive me tomorrow or next week, even— but the sooner the better, of course,” Jungkook chides playfully after a few seconds, smiling to himself when he visibly sees the tension melt away from your shoulders.

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance, baby. Give me a little leeway,” Jungkook pleads, in between light chuckles and strained desperation that an honest, sober husband like him could give to you while you’re long-distance. “Give me a little time to figure out a balance. I-I can’t be the best husband and dad that I want— need to be if I can’t figure myself out.”

“I get it,” you nod, your thumb unconsciously adjusting the wedding on your ring finger that’s become slightly askew. “But you promise me that you’ll come home, Jungkook,”

“I promise.”

“You have to promise me too that there’s no one else.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook tuts warningly, his confused frown at you being genuine in nature as if you could see him in real time trying to digest your paranoia. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Promise me,” you repeat again with a short-lived whine, the stirring of Hwayoung on your lap making his heart soften and your call interrupted.

“I promise.”

Jungkook relaxes into his seat, eyes still fixed on the security app on his phone as he watches you rock his daughter to sleep, pointing to the camera every now and then to tell her that her appa’s watching. 

Namjoon and Eunsu come over with drinks, and as much as there’s a momentary wave of relief that washes over Jungkook because he’s seeing familiar people, there’s a dubiously-coated type of tension that replaces the knot on his throat.

“Ah, my pretty producer,” Eunsu hands him his drink, looking past the platinum wedding band that Jungkook hadn’t dared to take off even once the whole trip, along with his phone that displays his family in full brightness. “I believe we haven’t met properly.”