#i think this is the first time I ever used that tag

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

What are some words or phrases you feel like you overuse?

What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

Would you ever accept requests or commissions?

Coffee or tea while you write?

What is your favorite line/section from [insert fic]?

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

What makes a fic 'successful' in your opinion?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Do you have an 'official' creative writing background such as a degree or previous experience publishing?

What makes you happiest? New fic comments, kudos, bookmarks, user subscribers, story subscribers, or Tumblr asks?

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

What do you struggle with most when writing?

What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

How many WIPs do you have and how many do you expect to finish?

How do you get over writer's block?

Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

What stops you from writing more in your free time?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Which scene/theme was the inspiration for [insert fic]?

Are there any moments in [insert fic] that feel "blurry" to you? Is this a stylistic choice, or would you go back and clarify the descriptions if you were given the chance?

Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

Are any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Have you noticed your style change over time?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

A character you enjoy making suffer.

A character you want to protect.

What is your favorite fic to get comments/messages on?

Wild Card: Ask me something else!

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's the last day of Fluffebruary. My heart. Today's fill is: Marriage Proposals. I do reference the fills for days one, thirteen, nineteen (sort of), twenty-three, and twenty-six in this one. MCU has nothing on me. There's also switching POV, which I note by doing two lines of dashes. Time jumps within the POV are marked by one line of dashes. You can also read this on AO3 here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

Buck ambushes Bobby when he gets out of the bathroom, because he’s been trying to get Bobby alone all day.

“I need your advice,” he begs, and Bobby turns toward him with an expectant look on his face. “Is it ethical for me to get my boyfriend really drunk so he doesn’t wake up when I try to measure his ring size?”

Bobby blinks at him and shifts his weight to put his hands on his hips, his body language radiating exasperation and paternal disappointment. “Kid, what the hell do you think my answer’s going to be?”

He winces. “That I should’ve asked Chimney if I wanted a ‘yes’?”

“Probably.” He smiles and reaches out to squeeze Buck’s shoulder, jostling him a bit. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks,” Buck says, smiling and finally not feeling like he’s going to shake out of his skin for the first time since he woke up that morning. “Any ideas?”

“You guys don’t have the same size hands?”

Buck flushes. “No, ah—his are a little bigger. Broader. His fingers are—I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed how big they are.”

Bobby raises an eyebrow, his hand retreating from Buck’s shoulder. “Can’t say I have.”

“Really? It’s, like, the second thing I noticed about him,” Buck says incredulously, and Bobby’s other eyebrow goes up. “Right. Okay, yeah. Straight guys don’t usually notice other guys’ hands.”

“Not unless I need to,” Bobby confirms. “Notice anyone else’s hands that might be the same size?”

Buck thinks about it for a moment and then it hits him. “Actually, yeah. I think I have. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, kid. Good luck. Let me know if you need anything,” he says, turning and wisely exiting the situation. Buck probably shouldn’t have gotten all gooey about how big Tommy’s hands are. To be fair, they're big and his fingers are thick.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling out his phone.

Well, he might as well get a reference photo while he’s at it.

–

Sal slides into the booth across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Buck drops the beer mat he’s been playing with and looks around to make sure no one’s listening before leaning in. “What’s your ring size?”

He smirks and lifts his beer to his lips. “Why, Buckley, you know I’m a married man. You willing to fight it out with Gina or is this a side-piece situation?”

“Shut up,” Buck groans, sitting back as Sal cackles. “Also, Gina would gut me.”

“And dump you in a river,” Sal confirms. “You trying to make an honest man of our Tommy?”

Buck flushes and shrugs, picking up the beer mat again and running his finger along the edge. “Hoping to.”

“Good for you, kid. Thirteen and a half.” Buck’s head snaps up, and Sal’s got a real, genuine smile on his face. “But you can get ‘em resized pretty easy. What's yours?”

“E-eleven, I think?” he guesses, trying to remember the last time he'd looked. “Maybe a ten and a half. I don't really wear rings.”

Sal grins and holds out his beer. “Better get used to it.”

Buck feels a smile creep across his face and sighs, lifting his own beer to tap against Sal’s. “Hopefully.”

“I think you'll be okay.”

–

–

“Ten and a half,” Sal says, dropping onto Tommy's couch.

“What?” Tommy asks from where he's trying to get a pebble out of the tread of his boots.

“His ring size. Ten and a half, maybe eleven.” He puts his socked feet up on the coffee table and shrugs. “I'd go with eleven, it's easier to size down.”

The knife he's using slips and almost slices across Tommy's hand. “What? How—how?”

Sal smirks. “I have my ways.”

Tommy drops the boot and sits back on his heels with a heavy sigh. “Okay. So—I’m doing this. Am I really doing this? It feels soon, right?”

“Couldn't tell you. But from where I'm sitting,” he says, sweeping his hand across to gesture at the living room or maybe the house or just Tommy's entire life, “you two built something together. Just keep building. We don't usually get to live too long—if it's not a fire, it's a building falling on you or a bolt of lightning or cancer. And you're already middle-aged, Maso. You got your boy, he's not going anywhere. Just put it on paper.”

“You're right.” Tommy stands and shakes out the tingling that’s settling into his hands. “Thanks.”

“‘S why I’m here,” Sal says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And the free booze.”

Tommy snorts. “You thought it was free? Buddy, your tab’s been running for years. I’ll finally be able to pay off the mortgage when you settle up.”

Sal looks offended at that. “Hey, just for that, find a new best man.”

“I didn’t ask,” Tommy points out.

“Who the hell else you gonna ask?” Sal shoots back, getting to his feet. “Your other best friend?”

Sal comes around the table and engulfs him in a tight, back-slapping hug, which just turns into a hug.

“Thanks again,” Tommy says as they pull apart.

“Love you, brother,” he says, holding his face and pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek. He reminds Tommy of his Prozio Aldo so much sometimes, especially when he does shit like that. “Let’s go cut down a tree.”

“We’re just trimming it,” Tommy reminds him.

“Uh-huh.” Sal steps around him to grab his boots and starts walking toward the back of the house. “You say that now, but wait ‘til I get a few more in me. You’ll be lucky to have a yard by the time I’m done.”

–

He’s pacing outside the station until he hears Maddie call his name, and he whirls around to see her approaching with a tray of something. They’re doing a late holiday potluck, having passed Christmas and New Year’s, and Tommy had made sure she would be coming.

“Hey!” he says, folding her into a side-hug before taking the tray from her. “Can we, uh, hang out here for a second? Just waiting for Bobby and Athena.”

Maddie’s brows pinch together for a moment. “Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, realizing he probably looks like he’s going to pass out. “Yeah, I promise.”

Bobby steps around the corner, glancing over his shoulder, Athena close behind. “Hey. Sorry, kid’s trying to get my damn dry rub recipe again and keeps cornering me. What’s going on?”

Tommy looks between their expectant faces and wants to dive head-first into whatever Maddie’s brought, which smells like it could be something with apples and brown sugar. “I wanted to ask you guys something. I kind of thought maybe Howie should be here, but he can’t keep a secret at all.”

“He can’t,” the three agree in unison.

He exhales slowly, realizing he’s been barely breathing for the last few minutes. “I wanted to ask you guys something—”

“You already said that,” Bobby points out, and Athena elbows him.

“I know it’s old-fashioned,” he admits. “And kind of backwards, because it’s really his decision, not yours, but you guys are his family. But I am kind of old-fashioned, I guess.”

“Tommy,” Athena says firmly, catching his eye. “Ask us.”

He swallows and looks at the tray and then back at them. “Can I maybe have your blessing to—to ask Evan to marry me?”

Maddie’s hands go to her mouth as she lets out a gasp, and Bobby’s looking at him with a wide, knowing smile. Athena looks proud, probably having sussed him out the second he walked into the station earlier.

“Yes!” Maddie squeals, hugging him around his middle and almost upending the tray. “Yes, absolutely a yes.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agrees, and Athena nods.

“What’d you think we were gonna say?” she asks, and Tommy shrugs helplessly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” he asks, letting Maddie take the tray back from him.

“Oh, absolutely,” Bobby says, pulling him into a hug. “I think you’ll be fine.”

–

–

It’s been almost a year since they got back together. Buck doesn’t want to do anything too big, because then too many things can go wrong and there’s all the added pressure. He’s heard horror stories from people who got proposed to in big, public settings who felt obligated to say yes. He won’t do that to Tommy. Tommy melts under romantic gestures, but actually important moments tend to be smaller and quieter. They’d gotten back together in the privacy of a cockpit, they’d agreed to move in together while they were wrapped up in each other on a picnic blanket, they’d talked about marriage and kids in the privacy of their own house and cars and in corners at parties. He’s got no problem screaming how much he loves Tommy from the rooftops, but some stuff is theirs.

He asks Tommy if he wants anything particular for dinner, and Tommy surprises him by saying Miceli’s.

“You really want to risk it?” Buck teases.

“Hey, I like their food,” Tommy protests.

Buck nods. “It’s good. Good enough to risk us breaking up a third time, though?”

Tommy crowds him up against the bathroom counter and wraps an arm around his waist. “You really think I’d let you go again?”

The casual possessiveness does things to Buck, and he shakes his head, swallowing hard as his eyes flick down to Tommy’s lips. “Seven?”

“Six,” Tommy says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his throat. “I want to get home early.”

Buck shivers, and then he’s leaning against the bathroom counter alone.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

He licks his lips and nods. “See you. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Tommy replies, swooping back in for a quick kiss that turns into a long kiss until Tommy pulls his head back with a gasp. “Eddie’s gonna kill me if I flake on him.”

Buck finally releases his boyfriend and waits for him to leave their room and then listens for the sound of the garage door opening. When he’s sure he’s alone in the house, he goes to his duffel bag and digs down until he comes up with a drawstring bag containing a ring box.

“Alright, don’t Buck this up,” he mutters, kissing the box and shoving it in his pocket.

–

–

Tommy is going to have a fucking heart attack. He feels like he needs Valium on an IV drip. He and Eddie are skipping basketball so he can pick up the ring, because Tommy had been too nervous to keep it anywhere Evan could find it.

When he finally has the small bag in his hands, he climbs into Eddie’s truck and has to do box breathing so he won’t pass out.

“Dude, you flew into a hurricane,” Eddie reminds him.

“Uh-huh.”

“People used to shoot at you.”

“Yep.”

Eddie looks at the bag and then at Tommy’s face. “I mean, I get it, but maybe you should chill for a bit before we go to the next stop.”

They’re getting Tommy a new suit, because he has two, and one of them was worn to a cowboy’s funeral and the other one was worn to Maddie and Howie’s reception/anniversary party. Evan’s seen him in both of them, he needs a new one. He’s picked that out also and had to get it altered, because he always has to get suits altered or they hang on him weird.

“No, we gotta go,” Tommy says, trying to relax. “Let’s go.”

–

–

Tommy looks good. Tommy always looks good, but Buck loves seeing him in a suit. He’d loved getting him out of the last one he saw him in, he’s definitely going to love getting him out of this one. It’s simple—black jacket, trousers, and tie with a white shirt—but it’s form-fitting and makes him look like James Bond. He’s glad they’d joked about dressing like they were going to a Michelin-star restaurant, because this is a good look for Tommy.

Buck’s skipped the tie, going for a burgundy suit with a white shirt that Hen had helped him pick out. The shirt has a high collar with no lapels that he’s never worn before and doesn’t use a tie, but it’s also a little tight. Buck hopes he doesn’t somehow stop breathing. Wouldn’t be the first time on a date, and it would suck if it happened on this particular one.

“Look at you,” Tommy murmurs, slipping his arm around Buck’s waist under his suit jacket. “Wanna stay in and fool around instead?”

“Not a chance,” Buck teases, drawing Tommy into a toe-curling kiss. “I wanna show you off.”

–

They Uber to the restaurant, since Buck is too nervous to drive and Tommy says he didn’t get enough sleep. They also want to drink a bit, though Buck’s going to take it slow until he has something to celebrate or needs to soften a rejection.

Their table is a little toward the back, and it’s quiet near them with no one immediately nearby. It’s perfect.

They make it through most of a pitcher of beer and their entrees, and Buck starts to feel like it all might come back up. He taps rhythmically against his knee to ground himself and keep himself from just bursting out everything he’s thinking.

“Hey,” he says, and Tommy looks up from the dessert menu, as though he doesn’t already have it memorized, “so I’ve been thinking about some stuff. Nothing bad, I promise. It’s, uh, good, actually? I think. I hope.”

Tommy sets the menu down and looks pleasantly confused. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” he says, grinning and leaning in a bit, drawn to Tommy always. “I’ve just—there’s so much stuff in our lives that’s unpredictable, you know? Especially with what we do. We talked about this a while ago, I don’t know if you remember? The whole ‘safe haven’ thing.”

“Of course I remember,” Tommy says, smiling and reaching across to take Buck’s hand.

“Good,” Buck says, turning his hand over and wrapping his fingers around Tommy’s. “I’ve thought about it a lot. You’re this steadying force in my life, this thing I’ve been looking for since I can remember. Most of my days are unpredictable, some of them are terrible, and I have an eye in that storm and it’s you. You give me peace and love and comfort. You’re the calm and the safety that I’ve been looking for every single day of my life.”

Tommy’s face softens. “Evan, you’re that for me, too. You’re more than I ever knew to look for. God, I couldn’t have dreamed I’d ever meet someone like you, let alone be lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.”

Buck’s heart starts racing in his chest, because it’s time, and he pushes his chair back so he can get up and come around to Tommy, who looks thrown.

–

–

Evan is standing next to him and Tommy wants to grab him and put him back on his chair, but when he starts to rise, Evan’s hand presses on his shoulder.

“Just—I don’t know what else to say here,” Evan says, reaching into his pocket and lowering himself onto one knee. “I just want to know if you’ll marry me, Tommy.”

That—that’s his line.

Tommy feels like the air’s been vacuumed out of his lungs, and he doesn’t think he has hands anymore. Or feet. The top half of his head might be gone, too.

“Oh–I—oh,” he gasps when Evan opens the ring box he’s holding. His hands are shaking when he does it. “I—Evan.”

He pushes his chair back and reaches into the pocket of his own trousers before kneeling in the cramped space between this side of the table and the wall. Evan’s eyes are teary and a little confused, and then Tommy holds up his own box, opening it to reveal the ring.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, and Evan’s face crumples before he claps his free hand over his mouth to hold back a noise Tommy’s never heard him make. It’s like a laugh, a cry, and a sob all at once. Tommy's own eyes start to flood with tears even though he's also laughing, because this is ridiculous.

They grasp each other’s faces and laugh and kiss, and then they’re hugging. There’s noise near them—clapping?—and Tommy presses his nose to Evan’s jaw.

“That was a ‘yes,’ by the way,” he whispers, and Evan laughs against his shoulder.

–

–

He didn’t know. He’d been so focused on his own anxiety that he hadn’t noticed Tommy’s. But there’s a ring on Buck’s finger, and he can’t stop staring at it or the one on Tommy’s.

“How’d you get my ring size?” Tommy asks.

“Sal,” Buck replies, and Tommy laughs. “What?”

“That’s how I got yours.”

Buck remembers Sal asking him, hadn’t thought much of it because it was relevant to the conversation, and laughs. “God, he’s going to be—”

“Insufferable.”

“—the worst,” Buck agrees.

Tommy brushes his thumb over Buck’s ring and smiles. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked your sister, Bobby, and Athena for their blessing. I asked Howie earlier this week.”

Buck bites his lip and leans in to prop his chin on his free hand. “I asked Bobby if it was unethical to get you drunk so I could measure your finger.”

“It is,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes when Buck shrugs. “But—so everyone knew?”

“Yep.”

“And they still let us—”

“Yep.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh. “Bastards.”

Buck tugs his hand close so he can kiss his knuckles. “Let’s go home.”

Their server appears a few moments later when Tommy flags her down, and she places a bag on the table with a smile.

“Your desserts—packaged to go and on the house. There’s some extras in there, too,” she says, stepping back. “And your dinner was paid for by another patron. Have a great night, guys, and congratulations.”

Someone had already sent them a video and someone else sent photos via AirDrop, and Buck twists around to see if he can figure out who paid. The people who had sent the pictures and video were gone. No one else is paying them any particular attention.

It’s outside, they’re standing in the same spots they had almost two years before, but Buck has his arms around Tommy’s waist this time. This time, they have rings on their fingers, and they’re getting into the same car and going to their home. Where he imagines they’ll have intense celebratory sex followed by celebratory desserts eaten out of take-out containers while they drape themselves over their couch in their underwear.

“C’mere,” Tommy says, holding up his phone.

Buck smiles for the photo, holding up his left hand alongside Tommy’s.

–

–

In the Uber, Tommy sends the photo to the ‘Fire Family’ group chat with the message: We said yes!

There’s a flurry of emojis and congratulatory messages and questions about when the wedding is. He turns the screen off on his phone and links his hand with his fiancé’s on the middle seat.

“Think we can plan a wedding in under a year?” he asks.

Evan scoffs. “Give me a clipboard and a budget, we’ll be married in six months.”

Tommy smiles and leans over to kiss his cheek. “The sooner the better.”

“In a rush?” Evan teases, smiling at him in the dim light.

“To spend the rest of my life as your husband? A little. Kind of wish I could’ve done it a long time ago. Like, years ago, even though I didn’t know you then,” he admits, and Evan smiles, making a soft noise. “Hm?”

“Something Hen said,” Evan says, shaking his head. “‘You’ll go to bed and wake up every day wishing you’d found each other sooner. ‘Cause life is so damn good that everything before him felt like wasted time.’”

Tommy’s heart slams against his sternum. “Yeah.”

Evan lifts their hands to kiss the back of Tommy’s, tucking it against his cheek. “She said that, and I knew I was going to marry you. I didn’t hope I’d do it or think I’d do it. I knew.”

“I was sitting in a park and had just asked you to move in with me, and I knew I’d have eloped with you that day if you asked.”

“So about three weeks after I talked to Hen.” Evan chuckles and turns his head to kiss his hand again before lowering their hands back onto the seat. “You ever think we’re meant to be sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Tommy agrees lightly, and it’s his turn to kiss Evan’s hand, his lips landing right next to his ring.

[emilys-bangs]

heaven is a place on earth with you | e.p

Tags: shy!hotch's assistant!reader, soft emily, just fluff, first date, one singular use of honey because emily is down bad, first kiss <3, emily being an absolute GENTLEMAN, reader gets treated so right, no use of yn

Summary: Emily asks you out on a date and gives you the first glimpse of something new. Requested here.

Word count: 1.2k

You suspect that Emily Prentiss has a soft spot for you. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think—an even more ridiculous thing to believe—but most evidence you’ve gathered points to that exact conclusion. She gives you soft smiles and softer touches; more often than not, there’s a sweet nickname on her tongue to replace your name. Flirting is beyond her, thankfully—you don’t think you could handle that without turning into a ball of flame—but gentle teasing is not, her ribbing undeniably more tender than what she doles out to the rest of the team. 

And, the most prominent piece of proof:

“A date.” You echo softly. The thought makes your pulse speed up, thudding so hard beneath your skin you fear that Emily could hear it from where she leans over your desk. She nods, her face carefully smoothed out of any emotion, but her eyes give her away, the softened tilt of her lids turning them all the more doe-like.

“Yeah. If you’d like to.”

Of course you’d like to. You’d like to do a lot of things with her, most of which bring a flame to your cheeks. You’ve never felt this way before about someone, especially not someone like her, but it’s not her gender that scares you, nor what it means that you desperately want to feel her feminine soft curves up against your body. You’re just…achingly you, and she’s achingly Emily. Briefly you wonder if she’s messing with you.

“A non platonic date?”

Emily draws her bottom lip into her mouth, the soft pink of her tongue pressing it in before letting it go, shiny with color. “Very non platonic,” she confirms gently. Her eyes study you, no doubt taking in the hitch of your breath—and probably mistaking it for some other emotion, because she quickly backtracks. “I totally get it if you don’t want to, just say the word and we can just forget this ever—”

“I want to.”

Emily’s face clears. “You do?” She breathes, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. “Really? You’re not saying that just to spare my poor feelings?”

“Really,” you say, a hot glow warming you up from the inside. Emily is looking at you with far too much affection; you drop your eyes and fiddle with a random pen. “Besides, you don’t really spare my poor feelings half the time, why would I spare yours?”

Even without looking up, you hear the incredulity in her voice. “What? Honey”—your heart flutters at the pet name—“I have the highest regard for your feelings. Promise.” She says solemnly.

“You’re doing it again.” You mumble, looking up to catch her eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Oh. It’s the—?” She gestures vaguely with her hand. You nod, chest warming at her out of place awkwardness. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink, “I’m sorry—”

“No. Really, don’t, I—” You like it. You like her, and it makes your whole body thrum. Swallowing, you drop the pen, glad at least that this conversation is happening in the sanctuary of your office. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit softly, because it’s Emily. You’re safe with her. “A date, I mean. With…with a woman,” you shrug, not looking at her. There’s no doubt in your mind that Emily is well experienced in romantic affairs. The truth is, women or otherwise, you’re just not. A few tries, most of them mediocre, had convinced you to stop wasting your time. And besides, it’s not like people often ask.

When you chance a look at Emily, her mellow smile soothes the fast paces of your heart. Her voice is velvet smooth as she draws patterns on the surface of your desk, her fingertips occasionally skimming yours—ever so slightly. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?” She asks gently.

Not messing with you, you decide. Probably too late, but you can’t really care.

“No. Please don’t make me pick,” your tongue darts across your lips. “Anywhere is fine.”

Emily winks. You go boneless.

“You got it.”

____

She takes you to a botanical garden.

You’re more overwhelmed by her than you are by the flowers. The feeling has been steadily growing ever since she showed up at your door, tender gentility and a nervous smile and a bouquet of flowers, her voice lilting when she said, I think these might be a little too on the nose. You hadn’t known what she’d meant, but you were too endeared to try to figure it out. Now you smile. On the nose or not, Emily Prentiss is something else.

It hadn’t stopped there. There was her hand on the small of your back, her fingers around the car door handle as she pulled it open for you, her compliments shining down on you like the fading glow of a sunset. It’s not a side of her you’re entirely unused to, but the intimacy of an open setting with just the two of you made it hit hard on your cheeks.

“I thought you might prefer walking around,” Emily says when you stay quiet, trying to swallow the ball of emotion in your throat. “We could go somewhere else if you don’t want to—”

“Emily.” You cut her off before she can spiral. “Stop. It’s—it’s perfect. Really. Couldn’t have picked it better myself.” Your voice is soft with overwhelm, hands warming at your sides.

Emily’s smile is incandescent. “Okay,” she breathes out, clearly relieved, “if you’re sure.”

You nod, unable to help smiling back. When her hand returns to the small of your back you lean into it, both relieved and disappointed that she doesn’t reach for your hand.

She knows about flowers. Of course she does—murmuring in your ear about the symbolism of daffodils, the various meanings of all the colors of roses, the Persian legend of the red tulip. It takes the spotlight off of you, and before you know it you’re relaxing at her side, any tension broken as the two of you bend to sniff flowers, their scent sweet and fragrant under the sun.

When she offers you a fallen marigold, petals gently rumpled and bent, her smile hidden beneath its orange halo, you beam back unrestrained. She idly mentions it’s the October birth flower, and when you lean in, lips to her cheek, you surprise even yourself. You miss the mark by a bit, catching the corner of her mouth in your haste.

Emily’s eyes go wide. They glitter under the sun, crinkling at the corners when she grins brightly, dimples digging deep. She doesn’t mention it for the rest of the day out of courtesy for your poor nerves, but a smile never strays far from her lips. You take comfort—and a tiny swell of pride—at the way her cheeks color a light pink.

When you try again later that night, back to your front door, your mouth finds hers with careful precision. Emily smiles into the kiss, cupping your jaw with a reverent hand. You taste flowers on her lips.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

[sheepispink]

THE TRUTH. (super soldier au part 2)

cw: mentions of telling someone to commit suicide, threats, bullying

guys idk how i feel about this one but here u go 🙏

PART ONE

———-

Happy Birthday

freak.

A present stopped you from walking out at your usual time. It was a week until your birthday, and usually no one remembered other than those who had your file. Although that mostly consisted of blacked out paragraphs now.

It’s wrapped a little messily, not the worst, and you slowly pick it up, noticing a weight inside. You had never got a present before, much less more than a small timeframe to have some sort of celebration— not that you ever took that opportunity anyway. Most years you were too busy hung up with wires and drowning in your mind from drugs. Your thumb brushes over the paper curiously, looking for a name tag but finding nothing to mark the sender. Neatly, you rip a line through the paper which reveals a cardboard box. It’s blank, no branding or anything to attach itself to. When you open it though, you’re quickly greeted by a strange sight; a gun.

A handgun to be more specific, a Browning L941 if you wanted details. It sits neatly in the box, looking clean but you can tell by the small nicks in metal it’s not new. There’s a note beside it, typed— never handwritten.

“If your aim is as good as they say, surely you can prove it by putting it to your head.”

You’re not too surprised, at least more than the initial eye widening. After all, you did deal with the piece of paper on your designated breakfast table every morning. Your eyes flicker down, to the sentence beneath.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll just have to deliver the gift in person.”

That makes you blink, the implications of the clear threat not lost on you. It wasn't the first time you’ve heard them; enemies swore that they’d tear you apart limb by limb, Ghost promised he’d douse you in cold water the next time you caused a bloodbath and even the scientists taunted you with those syringes. The difference was, those were.. well threats you couldn't exactly avoid. Ghost would always get mad at you for making a mess, and you used to be far more rebellious against the scientists— or was that fear? Enemies threatening you was just a farce anyway, you’d have their bodies by your feet soon enough that it wasn't even worth thinking over twice. But this? Comrades, or well they’re supposed to be, who want to kill you? Teammates who would live happier knowing they put you to the grave. It’s no longer the opposing team, no longer the one Ghost points his finger at, no longer the ones that destroy humanity.

No, they only want to destroy you.

For the first few days, you tried to shake it, but you were feeling the weight of the words even more than usual. The stab of pain in your back when they threw the bread roll at you; that could be a bullet next time. Your shoes in the toilet could be your body next time. The fox who whines and whimpers would be you when you were deemed useless.

The truth was, you didnt care about the damn movie, or the cake you were promised, nor even the words “happy birthday” being said to you. It was an excuse, a white lie even, to get the Captain, or Ghost, hoping one of them would actually come into your room. Never have they stepped foot in since your first arrival, never feeling the need to either. The Captain only had time to care when you emailed him, but even that seemed too risky, what if he laughed it off and the surrounding soldiers heard? Ghost barely ever gave you time to talk anyway, and when you did get a moment, there were too many around.

So you invited them over, tried your best act as if you really wanted a birthday to celebrate with them. They’d come, you’d show them the note, the gun. If they laughed, it’d be fine, hidden in your room— you could find a solution before they told the others and it spread around the base. If they didn't laugh, you’d be safe, guaranteed that no one would really try what would happen on that piece of paper.

But you hadn't anticipated that neither of them would come at all. Your eyes brim with tears, unsure how that is even possible as you step into your room, a tenseness sinking into your bones and spreading across your body. With them completely out of the picture, you’re left by yourself until your end surely comes. Maybe you should’ve known, especially when you remember what soldiers call you— a monster.

But it wasn’t in your coding, in your genes or even near your thought process to harm those that threaten you— at least not first anyways, and especially when they’re not explicitly enemies. This was a moral dilemma your tampered mind wasn't capable of handling. Despite the sick growing in your stomach, you had a plan. There were outdoor training rooms, more specifically small cabins that were sometimes used to punish soldiers if they acted up too much.

The gift remains untouched on the dresser, a silent promise watching you at all times. It’s almost four o clock now, and the day isn't getting any brighter in the middle of winter. Opening your closet, your hands pass over the many uniforms there. That’s all they give you, uniforms, it’s why yours are always clean— your only purpose is to fight. So you grab the jacket in the furthest corner, the one usually saved for extreme weather conditions and slip that on. It disguises your figure enough and the hiking boots are exactly what you need to be a new person.

Your hand grazes the knives in your old belt, and you take a few, sliding them into the new holster behind the jacket. Just in case. There’s nothing else to take now, apart from your small radio that you sometimes keep on your person— you dont really use a phone either since it was seen to be a distraction. You’ll likely have to starve for the rest of the day, though with your knowledge you could probably find some sort of food out there. Just in case, you grab an MRE, a spare that stays around in the off chance you get dizzy from eating nothing all day.

Slowly you step out in the hallway, looking around for anyone before closing your door shut again. You didnt dare make it suspicious with a backpack, so your bottle is stuffed into your jacket pocket instead. Same for the untampered gift on the table, they’d assume you’d be back later to open it.

This was your best bet.

You head down the corridors, keeping a confident pace so people wouldn’t even try suspect you— that’s the key to everything, after all. Ironically, that wasn’t the situation at all, in fact they were.. friendly? A few soldiers gave you a nod as you walked past, which wasn’t the craziest thing but, considering no one’s ever done that before, it was exhilarating. You nod in turn, a mask hiked up to your nose but it just looks like you’re keeping your face warm for when you go outside— not that anyone here is phased by a mere mask anyway. Infact, a few soldiers who look particularly boisterous even go as far to fist bump you, likely thinking you’re someone they know. You don't care in the slightest; you’re just happy that for once you get to experience what your life should’ve been like.

The giddiness is temporary though, as you turn the corner to see Ghost stepping out of a room with two crates of drinks in his hands. You falter, stopping in your tracks as he closes the door behind him.

Is this really the right idea? Running away like this?

It’s only for the day, at least that was the idea, but what after that? What if they didn't stop at your birthday— what if it continued? You could tell him right now, pull the mask down that covers your face and confess every little detail running through your head. What would you do if he got in trouble for your foolish decisions? He had shown his stance when he chose not to show up at your birthday party; he clearly didn't care at all.. right?

“Do you need something?” He says lowly, clearly having realised that you’ve frozen in your tracks before him, and giving you a narrowed stare for that reason. Surprisingly, it’s less demeaning and more questioning, considering how harsh his eyes usually go when looking at you. It gives you a bit of hope.

”D-do you need any help with that, sir?” You’re not sure why your voice stuttered, not particularly wanting to think much about the matter either. Instead, you stare right back at him, your eyes widened as you stare in his pupils moving around like it’s searching you.

Did he recognise you?

“No, that’s alright.” It’s gruff, and harsh and yet far more nicer than he’s ever spoken to you before. You manage to force yourself to nod in response, giving a small salute before hurrying off down the corridor.

Trekking through the forest is a little bit of an effort but you eventually meet the small cabin that’s there. It’s almost never used in winter, but in the summer they might do their training in these areas and keep the lunch here. Slowly you step inside, recognising from the get go that there’s not particularly much. There’s a few bedrolls for wilderness training, albeit a bit torn and some dry firewood left discarded on the little fireplace. That’s good, at least you won't freeze anymore than you already have. It’s not like you can use it though— it’s too risky. If anyone sees smoke out here you’re bound to get caught in seconds, and possibly even by your predators.

You lock the cabin door, placing a chair beneath the handle as you let out a sigh and slump against the wall. This would be a long, painstaking night and you cant help but wonder if it’d been better to just defend yourself when they came. But what if you lost control? What if you seriously hurt someone? Even if they were trying to harm you?

The thought makes you shudder, even more than the thoughts you’ve been desperately pushing back. But when there is nothing else to do in this cold place, it’s hard to keep your mind focused. The only way you survived these past three months with Ghost is by not thinking about your situation— at all. It’s probably why he hates you. From how he reacts anyway, you’re more like a robot than you’ve ever been a human. You’ve been monitored all your life, since before you were born you were made for the cause. No clue of who your mother was, you were genetically modified as an embryo for all the traits they wished for you to have. Other children in the program had the same, of course, and for the first years of your life you were blissfully unaware. You didn’t understand that the kids you ran around and giggled with would end up being your own enemies, despising that you turned out to be the successful experiment and not them. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, but they complained, saying you didnt have to be sent away like they did, to be fostered and deal with the pain of the experiments for the rest of their lives.

That’s exactly what you had though. You were split from them altogether, coddled by scientists and doctors, personal trainers who felt more like drill sergeants than anyone that wanted to help you. Of course, you were tampered with too, drugged up on strange substances as they tampered with your nerves, always changing you to be better because you were never enough for them. They were supposed to enforce rationality within you by erasing anything that could get you worked up, and so your emotions became suppressed, pushed down and piled with the weight of responsibilities to keep them down. But it clearly wasn't successful, at least when you’re not on the battlefield. When you entered that place, it was like a switch had turned on in your brain, all morality slipping out as you only followed the orders of whoever the handler was. Your mind always enters a haze after you snap out of it and come back from hours of combat, leaving you feeling sick to the core.

But now, things are changing— too fast. You had cried, because they didn't come to your birthday party. For once, your stomach felt sickly with misery and your breath had caught in your throat when you’ve never stopped breathing before, ever. Your hand reaches into your pocket, pulling out a small fox toy. It was a gift from a younger scientist who had just been a mere intern. He had been put forward for the menial task of looking after your post-experimentation state, making sure your vitals were fine. You didnt get to talk to him that much, considering you mostly were deep in sleep, recovering from the new strain on your body. But he stayed beside you, making sure you were okay. When you left to get tested on the field with Ghost, he gave you a small plush, just the size of your hand.

“A little gift.” He chuckled, smiling gently as he rubbed your bandaged arm. “Don't give me that look. I know you’re not actually that unbothered, they just made you that way. You can say you like it, you know, that it makes you happy.”

You could only nod in return, it was the truth, you were very happy.

The sky was already growing dark and without the determination that kept your body distracted from your needs, you were actually feeling your hunger full force for once. The little fox is clenched deep in your hands, a natural predator and yet it’s more common to see them die out in the wild than thriving. Just like you. Your stomach growls, and so you reach for your MRE, eyeing the food within. You were probably supposed to warm it up first, but you’d just have to eat it like this for now. You rip the first packet open, and just try to scarf it down without thinking about the taste too much. It wasn’t the best to say the least. But you’re used to it now; you barely got proper meals apart from missions, and often had to eat one of these after an unsuccessful trip to the mess hall.

You’re about to inspect the other packet when a low scratching noise is heard against the door. Instantly, you pause, mind shifting into something akin to a battle mode already. Slowly, you approach the door, pressing your ear as your hand reaches in your belt for the knife. The windows were frosted up, so it’s unlikely they could see in when it was already pretty dark in here. A low whine echoes out and you realise who's actually stalking you, quickly removing the chair and opening the door. The little fox stands there, looking up at you as it slowly steps inside the cabin.

For once, you let your guard down and just sigh, closing the door and securing it again. “C’mere.” You rarely fear anything, and so you scoop the little fox up without a second thought, even as it squirms initially and its claws are sharp on you. You settle in the warmest area of the room again, next to your mre pack and grab the fork, scooping out some of the food. You didn't need the rest, but he could use it. The fox reluctantly eats the food, and you giggle when you realise it probably doesn't taste much better to him either despite being starving. You took it off by letting him drink half the bottle of your water, which he greedily takes along with a few fruits you packed.

“Your fur is matted, and you’re all banged up but you’re still adorable.” The thought makes you sniffle, a bittersweet smile rising on your lips. The fox rests its head on your lap as you run your hand over its fur, gently scratching every now and then. Why couldn’t people see the truth in you as you did right now? You’ve trained for so long, fought to keep all of them safe on their missions and all you got in return was a scared look, disgust and sometimes even anger. It hurt, more than you allowed yourself to feel.

But this is the first time you’ve been alone without the battlefield before you, or a supervisor staring you down. You could have a gun to your head tonight, and no one will find out until the morning, so for now you just begged that the soldiers were joking, for the sake of everyone involved.

You just wish Ghost and Price would’ve listened, so you could be safe and warm back there, at least getting an early sleep on your birthday. The scientist promised, he said it’d get better, he said there would be others who would care like he did. He said only the higherups were this bad; he lied to you. The tears drip again, unable to stop this time and you bury your face in your hands, mourning everything you’ve lost, and everything you’ve yet to lose. Dead or alive, you may lose it all.

————————-

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay

[macapunoz]

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older���going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets. 

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that. 

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months. 

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination. 

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week. 

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now. 

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered. 

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?! 

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol. 

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away. 

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers. 

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love. 

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart. 

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos. 

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store. 

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket. 

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun. 

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it. 

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name. 

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda. 

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

i love you, i’m sorry

── hockey player!rafe x fem!singer!reader

an obx au. obviously will not follow the plot of the show. no use of y/n EXCEPT for readers spam ig username. i do use she / her. no descriptors other than reader being shorter than rafe, and therefore all guys in the story since i don’t think any of them are short kings shdhsjdjxjs. irl drew starkey is 6’2” so… yeah.

this is just the preview / table of contents!

when you and rafe first announced that you were together, no one was surprised. fans had been spotting the 2 of you on outings together for awhile before you ever became official on social media.

but with you being one of the biggest rising singers, and rafe being the first overall pick in the nhl draft, it wasn't long before you were spending less and less time together. eventually, photos were quietly deleted and plans were no longer made, but what shocked people the most was that there was never any breakup announcement.

over a year later, you’re getting ready to release your first full length album, and rafe is preparing for the next season to start. when old photos and memories resurface (and not all of them are good), fans realize that the 2 of you have been close for a lot longer than you’ve said. now, rumors are spreading about why you really broke up. and you and rafe are forced to look back on the relationship you both now seem determined to ignore.

TABLE OF CONTENTS —

ONE (coming soon) ──

other socials~

john b ── public ig: johnb // spam ig: johnbisnotme

jj ── public ig: jjmaybank // spam ig: ynfanclub

pope ── public ig: heywardpope // spam ig: notarealpope

kie ── public ig: kiecarrera // spam ig: lostmykies

sarah ── public ig: sarah.cam // spam ig: idkausername

topper ── public ig: topperthornton // spam ig: alwaysontop

kelce ── public ig: itsmekelce // spam ig: notkelce

would like to dedicate this to @kissylec 💕 i know smau’s have been around for years BUT it’s specifically her story that made me want to get back into doing social media stories! go check her out and give her a follow if you haven’t already!!!

TAG LIST ── 5 out of 50 spots taken

@kissylec | @empath-bunny | @pillowprincess4him | @fieryghxul | @imtalkinnonsense

if you’d like to be added, let me know!

[h8aaz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

❝ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ ❞

during a hunt, the winchesters were brutally thrown by a witch; their weapons flailing out of their grasps.

one of the weapons that was used during the battle was ruby's demon knife. and it landed closer to the witch than intended.

the witch hummed before casting an odd spell, the knife suddenly turned into a young woman— a naked one at that.

she pushed her palms against the ground; lifting herself up onto wobbly legs as her hands slowly scoured across her body. the boys groaned as they sat up, eyes wide and jaws slacked at the sight before them.

the girl's hands reached up to her breasts, letting go quickly and making them slightly bounce while she turned to face the duo on the ground.

"s..sam? dean?" she rasped out before shakily running to them, falling multiple times on her way there; giving up into a crawl.

she reached the two and pulled them into a hug. "are you guys okay? what's happening to me?!" she spoke quickly and fearfully, a small choke of a sob cracking out from her mouth.

the brothers awkwardly patted and soothed her smooth, bare skin on her back with their bloodied, dirt-covered and calloused fingers; the girl on the brink of hyperventilating while the boys had steadied breaths of shock.

they looked up to see the witch was long gone before shooting each other knowing and exasperated looks. "dammit! c'mon, let's getcha outta here." dean grumbled as he began to push the frightened knife-turned-girl off of his figure.

sam let out an exhausted sigh, "what are we gonna do now?" he asked as he assisted the other two up after getting up himself.

"i don't know, sammy, our knife isn't a friggin' knife anymore!" dean exclaimed angrily as his younger brother took his jacket off and wrapped it around the girl, shielding her— very nice— body from the cold, dark chill of the night.

dean stormed off to the impala after gathering the rest of their weapons, which thankfully were still weapons.

the girl stayed hip-to-hip with sam, feeling more comfortable with him due to his and her past owner's 'relationship' of sorts; though dean's rage over the situation also put her off.

she looked up at the younger and taller winchester with the most innocent, yet absolutely terrified, look he'd ever seen. "sam? sam, what's going on?" she sniffled, her voice wavering as she spoke.

sam's gaze turned down to her, catching the way the moonlight illuminated her features. he'd never seen a woman like her before. she was absolutely gorgeous, her tearful eyes making her seem like a lost puppy rather than a previous object that had killed multiple demons and more.

"i don't know yet," he spoke softly to her, afraid that if he used any normal way of speaking, he'd upset her more. "but i'll find a way to fix everything, okay? i promise." he gave her a gentle smile, his dimples showing the slightest indent.

she returned the small smile with her own; and if sam hadn't fallen in love with her beauty already, he sure as hell did now.

nodding, she examined his features with a quick once over. "okay." she whispered, leaning into him as they walked to the car.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 .ᐟ

⛤ facts!

more coming soon . . .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . HI I MADE A NEW READER LMFAOOOO. i haven't even posted yet alone FINISH the first part of sweetgirl!reader but let's not focus on that rn, yeah? IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS READER!!

she's inspired by @daylighted's baby!reader, where baby the car gets turned into baby the girl. i absolutely love their series for her and it got me thinking about ruby's knife + the angel blade— which i have posted here!!

special tags!: @j2archives @sunsbaby @dulcescorderitas @deansbeer @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina

dividers were made by me!!

© 𝐇𝟖𝐀𝐀𝐙 — don't copy or repost without MY permission!!

[one-half-guy]

Thank you for the tag ^-^

Let's see...

1- & 2- Silver & Blaze (Who's which varies a lot, but it's always these two who are on the top)

3- Tails (Fox Boy got the bronze medal, in earlier times he would be THE Favorite... And I still love him a lot, so I'm never letting him out of the podium)

4- Knuckles (My beloved tough guy, guardian of a wonderful island and can climb and glide to explore the level, he rocks)

5- Sonic (A really gold hearted soul, a true inspiration)

6- Cream (She's cute, she's adorable and she's polite and she's so OP EU QUERIA BOTAR ELA NO MEU CAFÉ)

7- Dr. Eggman (This bro moves the stories forwards, amazingly cruel as well as amazingly captivating)

8- Espio (I saw him the first time ever and was love at first sight, he's a ninja chameleon! He's so cool but also so silly)

9- Shadow (Our edgyhog with a turbulent past... But more important... He protec)

10- Infinite (Great aesthetics, great music and my goodness what a pathetic wet overpowered jerk 🥰)

Now a list with spin-off characters, because I can't leave them out, I really love them, but I was unable to decide a placement in a joint list since I would have to leave more out 🥺 (Under the cut because that got really long)

1- Gold the Tenrec (She's soooo cute, has a neat design, intriguing powers and got a very interesting backstory)

2- Clove the Pronghorn (A person who joined Eggman out of despair and now regrets it bitterly? Tell me more!!)

3- Cassia the Pronghorn (A poor deluded kid... Trusting blindly on her sis... Unaware of the complexity of their sotuation)

4- Eclipse the Darkling (Shadow's brother, dude. É o irmão do Shadow, cara, O IRMÃO DO SHEDOU!!)

5- Nicole the Hololynx (How can a computer be so cute? Protect her at all costs!!)

6- Shard the Metal Sonic (A reformed Metal Sonic, that was cool, specially his dynamic with Silver)

7- Tangle the Lemur (Love the energy she had in her introduction)

8- Bunnie Rabbot (A cyborg rabbit, she slays)

9- Cosmo (A cute flower girl, made me cry with her sacrifice)

10- Whisper the Wolf (She uses five wisps and I love the pun in this fact also I love that her weapon looks like an umbrella merged with a rifle)

Now I think it's time to tag hmm... @wonderinc-sonic @disabled-battlekukku @sahsahhh @mitsandnits eu venho aqui humildemente aperrear vocês, if you feel comfortable in participate

Alright everypony, here's my top 10 favorite Sonic characters

Shadow

Rouge

Amy

Silver

Metal Sonic

Sonic

Eggman

Wave

Blaze

Knuckles

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One? (Chapter 1)

For purposes of the story line I made people up but our Uconn girlies will still make appearances!

———————

Chapter 1

Paige and Azzi became best friends instantly. They met during USA basketball in high school and have been inseparable ever since. They easily mixed their friend groups and families, as if they’d always been in each other's lives. So when Azzi was asked to be a bridesmaid in her cousin Jessica's wedding, bringing Paige along was a no-brainer.

Jessica and her high school sweetheart Brandon were well-versed on all things Paige and Azzi at this point and weren’t shocked at Azzi asking Paige to be her plus one.

Storrs, CT

“Paigey please go with me? I don’t want to show up alone and if you don’t go I’m just going to be texting you the whole time.”

Paige pauses her game and places her controller down. “I don’t know Az. I don’t want to intrude. Like I know I’m not tight with Jess like that, but don’t you think I would have been invited if they wanted me?”

“Uh no because they gave me a plus one, which I’m sure my family knows means you. You have to remember his Mom has been weirdly involved in the planning and she’s more traditional about this stuff.”

Paige moved to sit at the edge of her bed with her feet dangling off the side. “So then wouldn’t they want you to bring like a real date?”

Azzi knows she got her title of people’s princess with her sweetness and innocence…so why not use it to her advantage? She moved to stand between Paige’s legs and rests her hands on Paige’s hips (in a very platonic way of course). “P c’mon please? For me? I just really don’t want to go alone and deal with commentary from my family.“

Paige looked down at Azzi’s big brown eyes and melted. The truth is, Paige would kill to be Azzi’s date. The issue is that Azzi is straight, so she shoved those feelings down a long time ago. Also, she isn’t asking Paige to be her date, just her friend to accompany her. “Yeah, okay, whatever, Az. Just tell me what to wear.”

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck jumping up and down in excitement. “Yay thank you Paigey! We’re gonna have so much fun I promise.”

——————————

KK and Caroline tag along for wedding shopping. KK stayed with Paige while Caroline and Azzi went to pick up her bridesmaid dress at another shop.

“Damn dude you lookin mighty fine.”

Paige is trying on a light blue suit, making her eyes pop, with the jacket being slightly oversized. Under the jacket is a black vest with a deep v at the top and showing skin at the bottom. Paige has always been comfortable showing skin and trying new styles, so here’s to hoping Azzi approves.

“You think? I’m feeling’ it forreal, but Azzi gotta like it too.”

“Ah yes the girlfriend stamp of approval.” KK says with a knowing smirk.

Paiges eyes bulge out of her head. “Bro what the hell! She could walk in at any minute.”

“Alright I’ll chill but how are you gonna do this for a whole week?”

“Do what? I’m just going with my best friend to a wedding”

“You mean doing what normally people in a relationship do?”

“You don’t think I thought about that?” Paige scream whispers. “But I can’t say no to her and I need to get over whatever I’ve been feeling so maybe a week hanging out as friends will be good.”

“Just don’t get yourself hurt P boogers.”

Paige just sighs and takes in KK’s words while looking at the suit. Suddenly she hears giggling that she’d recognize anywhere.

Caroline is the first to walk in talking about who knows what. “And then she was like—oh my god Paige you look so good!”

Paige smiles at them and notices Azzi just staring at her. “Thanks Car…uh Azzi what do you think?”

Azzi swallows hard. “Uh yeah no I mean great you look uh yeah good.“ Everyone looks at Azzi confused.

“Oh I mean if you don’t think it’s good I totally have some other options it’s cool really.”

Azzi shakes her head and moved forward quickly. “NO! I mean no it’s fine, really this is perfect. I was just uh caught off guard, it looks really good, P”

At this point Caroline and KK are eyeing each other understanding the complicated relationship of the girls in front of them. Paige has spent countless nights crying to KK, praying her and Azzi could be more. Caroline has tried to talk to Azzi about how different their relationship is. When Azzi pushes back, Caroline alwaya brings up the friends don’t get jealous of their friends hooking up with other people. Azzi always has a myriad of excuses of why those girls just aren’t good enough for Paige and changes the conversation.

“Cool cool…well uh I’ll go buy this then.” Paige says trying to hide her blush. She takes off the jacket and begins unbutton the blazer as she enters the changing room. Now Azzi is the one to get red. “No I’ll buy it! I’m the one making you go.”

Before Paige could protest Azzi was running to the front to buy the suit. The three girls left standing there stood in an awkward silence until Paige finished changing back into her normal clothes. Caroline joined Azzi at the front to make sure the flustered girl was okay.

When Paige exited the changing room KK gave her a knowing look. Paige rolled her eyes and started the gather her stuff and checked her phone.

“I mean that girlfriend approval amiright?” KK says as she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Girlfriend?” Azzi finally composed walked in on the last part of KK’s words and is unfortunately back to little composure. Was Paige talking to someone and she didn’t know? Did Paige send a picture of her outfit to some girl?

“What no? No one has a girlfriend she’s just playin.” Paige says with very little conviction.

“Yeah you know me always playin! But like if there was a girl that would be cool too right?” Paige elbows KK in the stomach to try to get her to shut up.

“Yeah that’s great, P. Can’t wait to hear all about her. Uh we should probably get going to beat traffic.” Azzi says with a shaky voice yet flashes Paige one of her signature smiles and walks towards the exit.

Paige can already tell this will easily be one of the longest weeks of her life.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🔮 Time After Time 🔮

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: One night on the Witch's Road, the group shares stories about their "battle scars". You're not keen on your turn.

wc: ~ 2.7 k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentions self harm & suicide, sfw

A/N: okay so this was actually one of the first fics I wanted to write ever for Lilia x Reader but just never got around to it until a sleepless night yesterday. Even had two requests about Lilia getting a vision of reader attempting and another for sh so this is kinda both. It doesn't go into great detail, but it is explicitly mentioned once or twice, so beware.

TRIGGER WARNING: If you're not in the headspace to consume this kind of content or feel unsafe, please leave this fic and reach out to someone. Reader discretion advised.

*******************************************************

At first glance, night on the Witch's Road seemed no different from an earthly one, but now that you sat with the group around a small, crackling fire, the eerie silence crept into everyone's bones. There was no wind, no insects crawling in the dirt, nothing live dwelling in this place. It was a rotting piece of void that digested every breathing thing within it bite by bite. Nobody said it, but you all felt it; the Road would chew you up if no one stayed up to hold wake.

The group had diverted their fear in idle banter, laughing the night away and sharing stories about the scars marking their bodies. Lilia, seated next to you on the rock you were sharing, pulled her clothes aside to reveal the marks of a vampire bite. "Right before I knocked out his other tooth," she added in that cheeky manner of hers and made you smile.

You could imagine her kicking vampire asses. She may be old, but she was a force to be reckoned with; that much you'd learnt during the short time you'd spent together on the Road. She was the one you stuck with, whose eyes you sought out when danger arose, well, and who you shared a rock with.

There, again!

Lilia did this thing. Checked out mid-sentence or babbled gibberish all of a sudden. Dementia, you'd heard Jen whisper, but she didn't strike you as senile at all. It was more like something ripped the soul out of her body, a displacement. And then she came back, disoriented and rattled.

"Lilia, where do you go?" Jen asked, and Lilia tensed. You gave her hand a subtle squeeze.

Luckily, Agatha's return drew the attention away from Lilia's slip-up and allowed her a moment to collect herself. You didn't notice at first how you hadn't let go of her hand yet and did so with an awkward, apologetic smile. Upon Jen's prompt, Agatha recounted the time a knitting needle had pierced her elbow.

"I've got a scar," Rio took over then, but Agatha was even quicker to say, "No, you don't."

You'd gathered during the last trial that the two somehow knew each other, but the interaction was still odd. Rio told her story anyway, which seemed to upset Agatha, and she left. When Rio followed her, Lilia gripped her wrist and gave her a warning. "Don't think for a second I've forgotten what you said in the sound booth."

Rio hissed at Lilia. You didn't like that she did. It wasn't the first time this happened, and sometimes you wanted to hiss back, but something told you not to mess with her. Before silence could overtake the round, Jen presented a scar around her ankle from a shackle to you and went on to lecture about what potions she used to minimise it and with what tincture she hoped to make it disappear entirely.

"It might work as a wrinkle cream too," she said to Lilia. "I'll let you know when I've perfected the recipe."

"How thoughtful," Lilia muttered under her breath and tossed a twig into the fire. You could've sworn you heard her add the word 'bitch'.

"What about you?" Alice asked, and it took a second before you realised she was talking to you.

"Yeah, show us your trophies," Jen agreed, gesturing in your direction.

You pulled your sleeves almost to your fingertips and turned away, shuddering under all their eyes on you. Jen crossed her arms and made a noise of disapproval. "Hey, this is a group activity. We have to rely on each other to survive out here. Do your part."

Lilia snapped around. "Watch your tongue."

"She's not wrong, though," Alice said, offering a warm smile instead. She'd only just shared one of her most vulnerable experiences with you; it would be unfair to withhold, but it was too risky. You shook your head and curled your fingers around your sleeves.

"Honey, you don't have to. Don't listen to them."

-> continue

*******************************************************

please leave a comment here or on Ao3, thank you <3

[youryurigoddess]

Books and crumbs

Probably most speculative post in this little series, but nonetheless marked as spoiler. As always when talking about S3 locations and related content, appropriate level of discretion is advisable — due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

By now most of you probably have seen this post published on the Till’s social media on Friday. Super cute gesture and a lovely way to let the fans know that even the staff is shipping Aziraphale and Crowley (told you they have Muriel vibes!).

Technically the bookshop wasn’t the only off-set location, since we already know of some others, including the parallel film shoot happening on the same day, but still! Do you think that this display could be a Clue? Are we going to see a sword-fighting angel again? Let’s see if the books here (neither is currently listed on their website and wasn’t there at the time of the filming) might feed us some information crumbs.

The first thing I can notice about this display is an open copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress (already noticed on Aziraphale’s desk in the Good Omens: Lockdown special) open on yet another illustration by Harold Copping, this time titled ominously “In the Valley of the Shadow of Death” with a quote: “So he cried in my bearing, o Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul”.

This fragment of the actual book could be potentially relevant to the plot:

“At the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, is best, though all the men in the world are against it”‬.

The book behind The Pilgrim’s Progress can’t be identified at the moment, but reminds me of the illustration of the War in Heaven for Milton’s Paradise Lost by Gustave Doré:

What can be easily identified here is a leather-bound copy of Angel Pavement, a 1930 novel by J. B. Priestley depicting the struggles of shopkeepers and traders of an imaginary London street in the wake of the Great Depression, additionally stirred up by a mysterious and charming newcomer.

Priestley’s social panorama of London depicts many perspectives, but focuses on the employees of the firm Twigg & Dersingham, suppliers of veneers and inlays to the cabinet-making trade, under No. 8, Angel Pavement (a small cul-de-sac in the heart of London’s commercial district). Interestingly, both BBC adaptations of the novel — a 1957 and a 1967 TV series — are considered completely lost.

The red spine is the only one I recognised from my visits to the bookshop in question — a leather bound copy of Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens. The 1848 novel tells a story of a wealthy shipping firm owner coming to terms with the death of the son he dreamt of continuing his business with and eventually embracing his daughter’s love when it seemed lost as well after years and years of neglect.

His boy had faded into dust, his proud wife had sunk into a polluted creature, his flatterer and friend had been transformed into the worst of villains, his riches had melted away, the very walls that sheltered him looked on him as a stranger; she alone had turned the same mild gentle look upon him always. Yes, to the latest and the last. She had never changed to him – nor had he ever changed to her – and she was lost.

The daughter eventually returns to reunite with her father after starting a family of her own, and years later the changed and aged merchant dotes on his granddaughter as if to make up for what he’s done to her mother by abandoning her due to patriarchal values.

Father figures and their sons or, in particular, daughters seem already pretty significant in the S2 context, as described in e.g., On Love and Sacrifices and Dysfunctional Family Dynamics, but they hit particularly close to the potential S3 themes in relation to both Aziraphale’s changing position in Heaven (and in Metatron’s eyes) and Jesus and his role in the Second Coming and the Last Judgement.

The big open book at the bottom is a first edition of Heroes of Folk Tale and Legend by Vladimir Hulpach (1970). Illustration by Miroslav Troup represents the monster Grendel, known from the Old English epic poem Beowulf in which he was slayed by the titular hero.

Grendel’s sudden appearance at the royal banqueting hall described on this spread is similar to the demonic attack on Aziraphale’s bookshop at the end of S2, but can also be seen as a foreshadowing of yet another danger to come and/or the beast from Revelations, the Antichrist.

He even looks similar to the engraving Anathema had hanged on her murder board, don’t you think?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Zincchump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in DOYLESTOWN TODAY (Mar 1), and in BALTIMORE TOMORROW (Mar 2). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

I've got a really good excuse for finishing this week with a folder full of links that didn't make it into the newsletter – I'm on a crazy book tour and I've been in four cities this week alone. Time for another linkdump! Here's the previous 28 'dumps:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I like to start these 'dumps off on an upbeat note, and this week, I've got something gratifyingly cool and wondrous. Stars Reach is a "living galaxy sandbox MMORPG" led by Raph Koster, the legendary designer of games like Ultima Online and Star Wars Galaxy. It's kickstarting right now:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/starsreach/stars-reach

Here's the pitch:

Whether it’s water turning dirt to mud or forests growing back after a devastating fire, every action leaves a mark. This isn’t a static world built by developers – it’s a living, breathing galaxy shaped by you. Resculpt landscapes, build entire cities, and yeah, ruin more planets just like humanity ruined their original eight homeworlds. That’s okay – there are always more worlds in our endless galaxy.

I've seen demos of this coming together for years and it is mind-boggling. You can play it like a galactic trade-empire builder, a shoot 'em up, a first person shooter, a resource management game, a MUD, and more. There are thousands of procedurally generated planets with realistic geology, geography and ecosystems. It's like something out of a Neal Stephenson novel. They're mostly done and just raising money to finish and launch. I gave 'em $100. They're projecting delivery in January. I can't wait!

It's pretty wonderful to see accomplished creators like Koster, who have gone from strength to strength, making a series of ever-cooler things as technological advancements let him realize the vision he'd been chasing since the 8-bit days. It's quite a contrast with HP, a company that was once world-renowned for making the highest quality, most reliable instruments and machines, and is now synonymous with the scuzzy inkjet rip-off.

I love a good dig at HP. This week, The Register's Paul Kunert scored a direct hit with a short news squib about the executive compensation package announced for HP CEO Enrique Lores: "261,658 toner cartridges" (that is, $19.36m):

https://www.theregister.com/2025/02/26/hp_ceo_pay_for_2024/

I would like to live in a world in which all unreasonable expenses were denominated in HP printer cartridges (much as the BBC compares ever extremely large or massy thing to a London double-decker bus). Anything to make it easier to grasp the vast forces that shape our world and bring them into focus so we can understand them – and destroy or change them.

One economic school that does this extraordinarily well is "Capital as Power," which concerns itself with the "social power of capital" – that is, how capital shapes our behavior and outcomes. It's a complicated but extraordinarily clear and useful framework for making sense of the world. This week, Naked Capitalism published a long colloquoy on Capital as Power, featuring Michael Hudson (a great economist and historian of debt), political economist Tim Di Muzio, and two of CasP's top proponents, Jonathan Nitzan and Blair Fix (whose work I have featured in this newsletter many times). It's a long, fascinating discussion – just the thing to relax with over a weekend:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/02/capital-as-power-in-the-21st-century-a-conversation.html

Capital as Power grapples with power, the force that neoclassical economists could never figure out how to fit into a neat mathematical model and thus decided to discard. Refusing to think about power gets you into all kinds of trouble, from deciding that markets for human kidneys are "voluntary" to the denaturing of political parties into institutionalist weaklings like the Democrats, who are completely overwhelmed by the power-focused MAGA GOP as it dismantles the nation.

Writing for The American Prospect, Nick Tagliaferro rounds up "Ten Democrats Who Need to Be Primaried":

https://prospect.org/politics/2025-02-27-these-ten-democrats-need-to-be-primaried/

For years, Tagliaferro was the loudest voice on the Primary School newsletter, which covered primary races. In this guillotine-inspiring listicle, he presents such swamp creatures as Levi Strauss failson Dan Goldman (NY-10), who spent $5m of his inherited wealth to win his seat, from which perch he has done everything he can to undermine his more militant anti-Trump colleagues in the House. More familiar names like Josh Gottheimer (NJ-05) – whom Tagliaferro calls "single most needlessly antagonistic centrist in Congress" – and the ardent homophobe Stephen Lynch (MA-08).

OK, I've got to get into my rental car now and make the 3h drive from State College, PA, where I just did a talk at Penn State, to Doylestown, PA, where I'm speaking this afternoon:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/cory-doctorow-picks-and-shovels-a-martin-hench-novel-tickets-1146230880419

From there, I'm going to Baltimore (tomorrow):

https://redemmas.org/events/

and then I'll be in DC on Tuesday:

https://www.loyaltybookstores.com/picksnshovels

You can catch the whole tour schedule here:

http://martinhench.com

New dates that I'll be adding soon include Pittsburgh:

https://us.pycon.org/2025/about/keynote-speakers/#cory-doctorow

As well as Wellington and Auckland, NZ; and Manchester and London, UK.

Before I go, one last wonderful link to be getting on with. Framework – who make the repairable, modifiable laptop that I love more than any hardware I've ever owned – just announced a bunch of fantastic new machines, including a rugged new, 12" touchscreen laptop with a 180' hinge:

https://frame.work/laptop12

and a desktop PC (!) that has insanely high specs and a fully customizable chassis:

https://frame.work/fi/en/blog/introducing-the-framework-desktop

I spend so much time on the road, I have no conceivable use for a desktop PC, but man, this is tempting. What a sweet rig!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/01/menagerie/#stars-reach

[dr9com9ge-ix]

Apparently Sprunki is getting a remaster and Nyanio has said that that they'll be replacing Wenda bc she's the worst of the content farms

Thoughts? Both in general and related to the AU

oh god, Okay opinion time. It’s a long one folks… It’s gonna get maybe a bit emotional and please don’t take my word as gospel or something, Have opinions please! I also use “you” alot when I’m not referring to any specific person/ when I refer to a general person so apologies if I sound accusatory or anything- It’s a habit of speech.

Okay actual stuff under the cut.

Dude can do what he wants, I already know of this news and choice (Honestly I really try not to think about it because it bums me out), The choice to abandon her is understandable considering like… The horrible content that has been made of her and not wanting to use the character anymore. I do despise content farms and what they do to media in general (I used to watch people discuss how bad they’ve gotten in recent years— MAN I also like TADC so I’VE BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER TWICE MAN. It kind of hurts to see Sprunki so often in them that I stopped watching videos regarding dissing content farms.)

I kind of understand (Though heavily disagree with)people watching some of it in Sprunki’s case because of the lack of story driven media if you only focus on content on YouTube. I’ve tried watching like… I think GameToon’s Sprunki and just was like “Man… These characters deserve so much better than this, I’VE SEEN BETTER DONE WITH THESE CHARACTERS!!! ON TUMBLR!!!” and not to mention them literally stealing OCs and me not having the mental fortitude to handle like… How content farmed content’s tone usually is.

(I WILL REITERATE, I do not think you are a bad person if you watch GameToon’s content and like it-

I just do not like what content farms do in general for a media’s reputation and search results. ESPECIALLY REGARDING SPRUNKI as the creator was literally DOXXED over it as far as I know. Nobody deserves that for just creating things. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking when it happens.

Though watching farms does unfortunately support them and thus they make more and more usually low tier, low brow and if I’m being a pretentious artist… Heartless content. Made for a profit off of something they don’t actually like as much as who they’re targeting. If they did care they wouldn’t have taken other people’s ocs. They would have been consistent with characterization and themes—SHIT They’d probably try to have the SAME VAS for some characters!!!! I only watched some of it solely because someone on the sprunki tag said they gave Jevin a “hot voice” and I ALSO HATE HOW THEY MAKE HIM A VILLAIN A MAJORITY OF THE TIME AS FAR AS I’VE SEEN.)

Actually the whole horrible thing that happened to the creator and a video discussing it is how I got into Sprunki- I felt terrible and went “Why don’t I give into the impulse to draw something from this? I’m sure making something nice of it will be better than… Whatever horrors get spat out for ad revenue.” and I did! I think I do have a kind of underdog bias with a comment under one of the most popular mixes with the original mod going “Why they never use the blue one? :(“ or something so Jevin became my favorite and first to be drawn- With the rest following because I’d genuinely gotten so attached to all these funky little guys!

And regarding Wenda in my AU? She’s not going anywhere.

I would understand if the creator went “Please stop using her in anything.” I would respect that wish (albeit tearfully) but he didn’t he just told people to behave- Not act a fool and such which I don’t think making an AU is that…. It’s just making your take on a media you like as a fan. I’ve already like… Pack bonded with the OG characters and WENDA INCLUDED. I have so much planned for her she’s too important to it and also I think one of my friends would probably get really sad if I ever did just scrap her. I truly just want justice to be done for her (aka GOOD MEDIA THAT CARES ABOUT IT’S CHARACTERS) because I think she’s probably one of the potentially most interesting of the OG bunch if you take away any outside media (Like questions of “why did she do what she did in Horror mode?”, “How was she like previously? Was it a sudden snap or something a long time coming?”) and I think any answer to it is interesting!

I also kind of hate the reductive take of “Too many people do this interpretation of [character], I hate it now!! I’m doing a different one!” I see sometimes so I don’t want to hear about that, Sometimes that’s just the natural assumptions one would make about THE SAME CHARACTERS IN A MEDIA… And that’s an entirely different gripe unrelated to this! Like shush… There are fans of that interpretation and I’d rather you make yours WITHOUT disrespecting other’s interps.

Anyways summary is:

DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!! (as LONG AS YOU AREN’T HURTING/DISRESPECTING PEOPLE!!!!) Love your medias!! Make your arts!! And Sunshine Suburbia! Wenda is staying because… I love her too much. c,: And again DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!

[dreamingbrownie]

Conclave fic recs

A non-exhaustive list of some pearls of this fandom.

Aldo/Thomas

Just Before Spring

The way Aldo went on about it, one would think St. Valentine had gone and gotten decapitated on his birthday specifically to spite him, several centuries in advance.

G, 738 words, oneshot. I loved this for how utterly beautifully written it is. This feels intimate and like you should't quite perceive Thomas and Aldo in their comfortable balance of affection and what-could-have-been, and I adore the characterization of Aldo in this one. The love Thomas holds for him pours off the screen in this one. Such a radiant little pearl of a story, this goes down like a mouthful of peach juice.

Know it's for the better

Bellini stumbles upon Lawrence having broken into His Holiness’ chambers. Title from Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridgers

M, 1,440 words. Touch-starved comfort, alternative scene from the movie as it says on the tin. Bones points for the tag "celibacy my ASS."

We're just two men as god has made us

Having to share a hotel room due to a booking mistake, Thomas and Aldo reconnect with the divine through a bond that is both holy and carnal.

E, 1,803 words, oneshot. This is really solid "there is just one bed" hotel room smut, friends to lovers, real good stuff.

Cardinal sins

Aldo Bellini, going through it, during the events of Conclave (with some ancient history thrown in) This is mostly unsexy, nearly 4k words of being in love with someone you can't have, and God and everyone you hate are also there.

T, 4,043 words, oneshot. What it says on the tin, such a good addition to canon.

The kids have a new take on faith

With every season of change comes regret for the chances not taken. Aldo Bellini and Thomas Lawrence confront their regrets.

E, 6k, oneshot. This is one of my favourite Aldo/Thomas actual smut fics because it's so tender and doesn't spend much time on the internalized homophobia which there are fantastic, but heartwrenching, painful depictions of aplenty in this fandom. Thomas and Aldo feel so lost but determined in this one, holding onto the only thing they're certain of: each other. And it feels incredibly realistic in its portrayal of middle-aged, ageing men learning each other's bodies for the first time ever.

A debt of wine and crucifixion

Here is the worst-kept secret of Vatican City: For nearly a millennium, Nicolò di Genova has dropped in on every single newly elected Pope to give him the shovel talk. Just to ensure none of them gets any funny ideas about Jerusalem again, or that's how it started out, at least. The Holy See has been closing up the holes in their security after him every time, but there is a new hotel built too close to the Leonine wall, there are turtles ambling around the Vestal Virgins' feet, and a new Holy Father from Mexico City sits the Papal throne. That Thomas Lawrence has quite literally signed up for this doesn't help the matter much.

T, 7.3k, oneshot. I humbly offer my own: A The old Guard x Conclave crossover in which Nicky gets introduced to the new Holy Trinity of the Curia, Aldo and Thomas are determinably Not Talking About Themselves, and Vincent still is their pillar of faith.

True Worship

Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God – that is true worship. Smut, that's it. Tedesco shows up at some point. But mostly it's longing, flirting, and you know...

E, 11,5k oneshot of Aldo/Thomas afterglow bliss ✨

I will love you so much that one day you will begin to love yourself

They ended up in the security office, where a spacious black leather couch had been repurposed as Aldo’s makeshift bed. The clothes he wore—likely from the club’s lost and found—didn’t fit him properly. His pants were too loose, and his shirt clung uncomfortably tight.

Not Rated, 11.7k of just hurt/comfort heavy angst with emphasis on the angst. Aldo's self-loathing and destructive behaviour in this is no joke, read with informed consent. Oneshot.

Concerto for Flourescent Lightbulb and Nespresso Machine

the only way to achieve something that sounds strange and divine is by using your hands - Volker Bertelmann on his score for Conclave 3 years after leaving the church and 3 weeks after getting his new hip, Thomas recieves an unexpected visitor.

G, 13,7k, oneshot. Such a beautiful, tender, wonderful story about the two of them leaving the Church to be together at last. They grow together quite accidentally in Denmark, slowly and then all at once. I adore this story so so much. The tag "[Stucky voice] we deserve a soft epilogue, my love" really rings true for this one.

Trinitas

“You’d like him, you know,” Thomas said. “I do like him,” Aldo said automatically, twirling the stem of his wine glass, looking into its deep red like it was a scrying mirror “I mean as a friend. If you spent more time with him. You have a lot in common.” “Do we use the same shampoo?” asked Aldo, raising an eyebrow. Thomas gave him a warning look but his mouth was tugging up. “You’re both stubborn,” he said bluntly.

M, 33.4k, happy ending, oneshot. The tags say this is Aldo/Thomas/Vincent, though it only gets there two thirds down, and up until that point, it's a classic, fantastic Aldo/Thomas slow burn. So tender and just the right mixture of genuine long friendship mixed with what-could-have-been which eventually does, of course, spill over. This had me giggling and cackling over their love confession with glee. Also I love Vincent cheerfully thrashing Aldo at chess in this. Everyone is so very in character and I adore that.

The Vincent/Thomas masterpieces:

Divine Revelations of Love

Following Tremblay's election, Thomas Lawrence is forced to resign and ends up in a refugee camp in Jordan, working side by side with Cardinal Vincent Benítez.

M, 27,6k, multi-chapter and finished. The holy grail, y'all. This fic is going to make you weep, sigh, clench your whole hand in the nearest scrap of fabric or possibly a pillow to scream into, it's going to teach you a thing or seven about refugee camps in Jordan, the disaster that is European dealings with the refugee crisis, the involvement of the UN and various Catholic missions and orders in the humanitarian aid system, and it is going to grip your heart and twist it around and backwards a couple of times before you notice it yourself. The ending hurts like a goddamn stab wound, so it's a good thing there's the follow-up story 21 syllables already being posted which is going to do the exact same things to you all over again. Bon appetite.

Encounters with Turtles

Under the pontificate of Innocent XIV, Thomas Lawrence attempts to further social reform while navigating a web of personal struggles. Caught between his troubling feelings about Vincent and a crisis besetting Aldo, Thomas is forced to reckon with the boundaries of friendship, love, and sexuality.

E, 33k, multi-chapter and finished.

The other holy grail of Vincent/Thomas fics. I'm being completely frank here, this fic deals the most realistic, brutal, honest portrayal of the Vatican's particular brand of homophobia I have seen in this fandom to date. It hurts. It really, really hurts; this is hard stuff to stomach. The way in which Aldo's internalized homophobia and all that self-hatred as a middle-aged gay man trapped in the Curia is portrayed feels utterly heartwrenching especially because it's true for so many queer religious people all around the world. And then Thomas falls in love with Vincent and stumbles down the exact same rabbithole of self-loathing, guilt, love, self-discovery, musings about sin and God and whether homosexuality is or is not a disease and all the ugly rest of it. I still haven't finished this as I'm stuck half-way down Chapter 5, because it's just incredibly heavy stuff. Dead Dove, do not eat, I'm so serious about this. But I do love Aldo's and Thomas' friendship in this one, as well as the characterization of everyone, especially and including the OCs.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

all aboard the angst train! ominis finds out from sebastian that he and mc are courting and goes to mc like what the hell i know you love me what are you courting sebastian? and mc just says I want a family I want children you will never give that to me. it's best for us to stop now before we really hurt each other. choo choo the angst train is leaving the station!!

What We’ll Never Have | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

this was just... so much pAIN. my HEART.

Words: ~2,200

Tags: Post Hogwarts, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Sebastian had been fidgeting all evening, a nervous habit he’d never quite shaken. Ominis had learned long ago to recognize the tells—shifting weight between his feet, the repeated cracking of his knuckles, the way he rapped his fingers against any available surface.

He knew Sebastian had something to say long before the words left his mouth, but nothing could have prepared him for what he finally said.

"I just thought you should hear it from me first," Sebastian had muttered. "She and I are courting."

Ominis had stood so still in that moment, his fingers curled around the rim of his tankard, that he might have been mistaken for a statue.

"You're what?" he’d asked, though he had heard perfectly well.

"Courting," Sebastian repeated, as if the word wasn't a knife twisting into Ominis’s ribs. "It's nothing dramatic. We just… figured it makes sense."

Ominis didn't even remember leaving the bar, his mind roaring with thoughts he couldn’t quiet. And now, here he was, standing outside your flat, barely aware that his knuckles had rapped against the wood until he heard the latch slide free and the door swing open.

A pause.

He knew you were looking at him. He knew, in that way he always knew you, that you understood why he was here, that you were already bracing yourself for the confrontation neither of you had ever been brave enough to have.

"Ominis," you greeted, your voice careful, neutral.

That only infuriated him more.

He shoved past you. The scent of parchment and tea clung to the air, but there was something else beneath it—something distant and wrong. It was the awareness that this was no longer his place to be, no longer a space where unspoken words could linger between you two, waiting to be plucked from the air like ripened fruit.

When the door clicked shut behind you, he turned sharply, his voice low but unrelenting. "What the hell are you doing?"

You sighed. "I take it you saw Sebastian.”

“Oh yes, I saw him,” Ominis snapped. “Had a very illuminating conversation, in fact. Imagine my surprise when my best friend tells me he and you—” His voice caught, and he hated that it did. He swallowed hard. “You are courting.”

Silence.

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you said, “We’re happy, Ominis.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you’ll be happy. But you and I both know that’s not the same thing as actually being happy.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t say ‘you’re wrong’. And that silence spoke louder than anything else.

"I don’t understand," Ominis said, turning toward where he knew you stood. "Why are you doing this?!"

"It’s what makes sense, Ominis," you said, so softly, so gently, like you knew this would wound him and yet were trying to dull the blade.

Makes sense.

Such a simple phrase. So small and neat, as if it could explain away everything that had come before it—the glances you and Ominis shared across dimly lit rooms, the conversations that had stretched past midnight, the way your hands always lingered a second too long when they brushed his. The way Ominis had felt you, like a gravitational pull just beneath his skin, and known he would love you until the day he died.

He had spent years—years—telling himself there would always be more time. That whatever simmered between the two of you, whatever hung in the spaces of your conversations, whatever made you linger a little too long, press a little too close, would still be there when the timing was right.

Except now, he realized, the moment had passed without him ever knowing it.

His breath was ragged as he took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “Sense?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re choosing him because it makes sense?

“I had to make a choice, Ominis.”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” you countered, stepping closer. “And I—” You hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing yourself to say it again. “And I chose Sebastian.”

Ominis let out a quiet, humorless laugh, "You just woke up one day and decided to be with Sebastian?”

You flinched, but your voice remained steady. “It wasn’t like that. It's not like I decided on a whim. You act like Sebastian and I didn't talk this through first."

Ominis stilled. This was planned. Considered. You and Sebasrian had discussed it, picked apart the logistics of it together, laid out the path forward.

Of course, you wouldn’t have rushed into something blindly. You had always been measured, deliberate. You thought through your choices, weighed them carefully before committing. And you had done the same with this.

Ominis felt his stomach turn but he forced himself to breathe through the pressure mounting in his chest. "How long?" His voice was sharp, brittle. "How long have you been considering it?"

You hesitated.

Ominis felt something cold settle in his ribs. "How long?"

"...A while."

Ominis let out a slow breath, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "But why him? You could have picked anyone else. Anyone. Some Ministry official, a bloody Healer. Of all people, why my best bloody friend?!"

You exhaled sharply. "Because he’s my best friend too, Ominis."

"You don't love him though!"

The words were out before Ominis could stop them, raw and sharp, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Yes, I do."

“No, you don’t.”

"Maybe not in the way you mean, but we will learn—”

"Is that honestly what you think?” Ominis interrupted, his voice low and fraying at the edges. “You think you can just learn to love him like that?”

“Yes.”

Ominis shook his head, laughing bitterly, though nothing about this was funny. “You can’t force love.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” you countered. “It might not ne romantic love but that doesn’t mean it’s less.”

“It’s not real,” Ominis bit out.

“It is,” you said, voice thick with something unreadable. “It’s real in the ways that matter. It’s trust, it’s choosing someone because they’ll be there at the end of the day. It’s knowing that we’ll make each other happy, even if it isn’t some grand, burning thing.”

Ominis shook his head again. “You’re settling.”

You flinched, and for a fleeting moment, Ominis felt something like satisfaction. But then you exhaled sharply, something flashing in your eyes. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have waited.” Ominis argued, throwing his hands on the air.

“For what?” you snapped. "You say what Sebastian and I have isn’t real but at least we acknowledge it."

Ominis stiffened.

"At least it’s something named, something that isn’t hiding in the dark," you continued, stepping closer, your frustration mounting. "At least we’re honest with each other."

Ominis felt like he had been struck.

"You think you get to stand here and tell me what is or isn’t real?" You shook your head. "I waited, Ominis. I waited for you."

His stomach twisted, but he stayed silent.

"For years," you emphasized, your voice trembling now, edged with something like grief. "Years, Ominis. Hoping that one day you’d—" You exhaled shakily. "That you’d just say it. That you’d choose me."

His throat tightened.

"But you never did."

The words hung between you, the weight of them pressing against his ribs, curling around his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"You never said it," you whispered. "Not once."

Ominis swallowed, his hands shaking now. "I—"

"You let me wait. You let me sit in that silence, let me hope while you stood there, doing nothing." Your voice broke, just slightly. “and after all that time, after years of waiting, you have the audacity to come here and tell me this isn’t real?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "What Sebastian and I have might not be what you think it should be, but at least it's something."

Ominis swallowed hard. He had spent his entire life being careful. Measured. Controlled. He had learned restraint before he had learned kindness, had learned to bite his tongue before he had ever learned how to wield it. He had spent years—a decade—walking this impossible, agonizing line with you, balancing on the edge of something neither of you had dared to name.

But standing here, knowing you were choosing someone else—choosing Sebastian—when he knew you loved him, when he knew, down to his very bones, that this wasn’t just some unrequited fantasy, that you had spent just as many years aching in silence as he had…

It broke something in him.

His breath shuddered as he stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin, the uneven rise and fall of your chest.

"Fine." His voice was sharp, ragged at the edges, but he didn’t care. “You want me to say it? Fine." He let out a sharp breath, his voice rough with something raw and unrelenting. "I love you."

The words hung between you, vast and consuming, but Ominis wasn’t finished.

"I love you," he said again, the confession pouring from him like a wound finally splitting open, ten years of restraint breaking apart in an instant. "How many times do you want to hear it?"

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting slightly, but he didn’t let you speak.

"How many times will it take to change your mind?"

Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body going still, but he knew—he knew—that this wasn’t news to you.

He took step forward, his voice hoarse now. "I know you love me too."

You shook your head once, a small, broken movement. "Ominis—"

"Don’t lie to me." His voice cracked on the last word. "Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your jaw tightening, but you didn’t deny it.

Before he could think better of it, Ominis's hand lifted, fingers brushing along the line of your jaw before he cupped your cheek.

Your breath hitched beneath his palm.

Ominis exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less desperate. "Tell me I’m wrong."

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me you don’t love me." His thumb ghosted over your cheek. "Tell me, and I will leave. I will let you go. I will walk away, and you will never hear another word of this from me again."

Silence. A silence so heavy, so vast, it felt like it might crush him. Because you couldn’t say it. Because you did love him and you always had.

Ominis’s breath left him in a slow, aching exhale. "Then why are you doing this?" His forehead almost rested against yours now as tears burned behind his sightless eyes. "Why are you choosing him?"

You swallowed. Your hand lifted slowly, curling over his wrist, as if you meant to pull him away, except you held him there instead.

“I want a family, Ominis,” you admitted, voice barely more than a breath.

Ominis's grip on your cheek slackened, the certainty that had carried him through this breaking apart all at once.

Ominis had never wanted children.

In all the late-night conversations between you that had stretched toward dawn, in all the quiet moments when the world had felt like it existed only for the two of you, he had admitted it freely. He had sworn, sworn, that he would never be a father. That he would never bring another Gaunt into this world, never risk continuing a bloodline so poisoned, so irreversibly rotted with cruelty, that he feared any child of his would inherit it, that they would open their eyes and see the world the way his father had seen it.

He had vowed it.

Because the truth was, Ominis didn’t know what fatherly love was even supposed to look like. He didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know what it meant to be the kind of person who could raise a child properly.

But now—now, standing here, the truth of it lodged itself deep into his chest: you wanted a family, and from the very start, Ominis had always refused to give you one.

"I don’t want to wait forever for something that will never happen," you murmured, your voice heavy with something close to grief. "I don’t want to wake up years from now and realize I let the chance slip away because I was waiting for you to change your mind."

Ominis exhaled sharply, his breath coming out ragged. "You think I wouldn’t have tried?" His voice cracked, something desperate clawing at his throat.

You pressed your lips together, and when you spoke again,your voice wavered. "That’s the problem, Ominis. I don’t want you to try. I want you to want it."

Ominis stepped back suddenly, his hand falling away from your cheek like the finality of it had just settled in his bones.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "And Sebastian does?"

You swallowed hard. "He—" You hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. "Yes, he... wants a family. A life that I want, too."

Ominis let out a bitter, shaking breath. "A life you wanted with me." His throat ached with the weight of it, with the unbearable truth of knowing that you had imagined this future—children, a home, a life filled with warmth—and once upon a time, you had pictured him by your side.

But not anymore.

[makeitworse]

illicit affairs

˖ ࣪✦ sangwoo × f reader | nsfw, mdni!

sangwoo’s weaved in and out of your life, blurring the line between a carer and a lover. old feelings of spite and shame resurface on your last night together.

c/w: age gap (sangwoo late 40s, reader ~20s), daddy issues/kink, freudian as HELL, angst, brat tamer sangwoo, mutually toxic, smoking, cheating, grooming if you squint?, praise, plot heavy w eventual porn a/n: idk if this needs to be tagged as dc lmk. also sorry for being on a writing hiatus i got super fucking sick

sangwoo had a way of burrowing under your skin. like an itch you could never reach, unless you clawed into yourself and ripped the flesh apart just to get to him.

he always showed up just when seeing him was the absolute last thing you needed. and that was especially true for now, more than ever.

but when your phone lit up on the bedside table with an unknown number, you knew he was back for you— and you just caved. it’s all you knew how to do with him.

you flicked the bedroom lights on, darting around to gather your belongings.

“what’re you doing?” a sleepy voice drawls.

you don’t look up at him, focused on putting whatever it is you’re holding into your bag. you weren’t paying attention to that. your mind was scrambling for an excuse. a lie.

“i’m going out.” you say flatly.

“at this time?” his voice perks up now, checking his phone.

he’s so worried. so caring. and you’re going to have to crush that beneath the heel of your foot.

you don’t even know what to tell him. you just say the first thing that feels natural: “my father’s in the city.”

he sits up from the bed in a shock. rightfully so.

“your father?? since when are you in touch with him?”

it was actually a well-known fact that the presence of a father was a gaping wound in your life. you’d never known the man. but, even a lie like this was easier to explain than the truth of who you were actually seeing.

“i’ll explain later, alright? i really need to leave—”

your voice was laced with annoyance. you couldn’t think of an elaborate enough fable right now for any questions, and sangwoo was waiting.

but he crawls across the bed to catch your hand in his before you can shoot out of the door.

you meet his eyes and swallow thickly. those sweet eyes. so caring and kind. you’re going to ruin him.

you cup his cheek in your hand, tenderly swiping your thumb across the skin. he needily leans into your touch.

“i’ll be back in the morning, and we can talk all about it. okay?”

he nods. your heart pangs when you notice his glossy eyes. a better girl would’ve crawled into the bed with him and thrown your phone out of the window. but that’s not the girl sangwoo called tonight.

the air’s bitter as you walk the streets. barely anyone’s out late at this time of year, with how harsh the cold is. no one to see you two together. just how he liked.

sangwoo hated getting stares. you used to take it personally, the fact he didn’t want to be seen with you in such a way. what’s so wrong with people suspecting the worst? it was the truth after all.

that was a while ago though, back when you were spiteful about why he wouldn’t just settle down with you. how he was always disappearing but then couldn’t leave you be.

you didn’t blink at those things now— it’d been nearing a year since you last actually heard from him. you were just starting to come to terms with the fact he was gone for good this time.

you finally dabbled in other men (ones closer to your age). you’d been shown shades in comparison to the colours you already saw with sangwoo. you were chasing the fervour of your memories with him— and one boy had finally promised you something sangwoo never would’ve dared. eternal commitment. a ring on your finger.

..and you told him you’d think about it.

well, you were just laying in his bed without any plans of leaving. you were on the cusp of a new life without the overarching shadow of your estranged lover.

but then, of course, he called.

speak of the devil: you spot sangwoo standing at a corner store under dingy, neon lights. he’s tidied up like always, wearing a loose grey suit over a white collared shirt— no tie.

sangwoo calls your name softly when he sees you approach, his voice almost a sigh. like in relief.

“you look well.”

“you don’t.”

he just nods, eyes scanning over your body. you could never really phase him. if anything, he’s more surprised you’re this composed after all this time of no contact.

you cock an eyebrow when he meets your gaze again, as if he wasn’t just checking you out.

”what? forget what’s underneath?”

another sigh. this one’s in annoyance. “let’s go.”

he shifts to begin walking, but you don’t budge. you watch him click his teeth then glance around— coast clear— before he leads you by the hand.

you almost forgot how much you hated being treated like some dirty secret.

you snatch your arm back, but you keep walking with him. he almost pauses in his tracks to make sure you’re still following.

“how have you been?”

his politeness offended you. how he can act like he cares after dropping off the face of the earth.

you roll your eyes. where to start?

you toss over the idea of dropping the bombshell that was the boy whose bed you just came from, but you scrap it. probably shouldn’t piss him off this early into your long-awaited night together.

“i think you owe me your answer to that first.”

you watch as he runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. it dawned on you just how much you missed looking at him. that sexy, punchable face.

you’re going to need a cigarette.

“it will bore you,” he starts. he’s chosen his words carefully. “all work.”

“and what, no play?” you sneer. half of you wants to know if he’d been getting busy with anyone else.

you rummage through your bag and stick a cigarette between your lips. this catches his eye. as you reach back in and pull out your lighter, you both stop on the pavement as he grabs your forearm.

“you smoke now?”

he’s shocked. as if he has a right to be concerned for your health. it boils your blood.

you just scoff. “i can do that. i’m old enough, in case you’ve forgotten.”

sangwoo’s jaw hardens. it always ticked him off when you brought attention to your age.

his eyes soften as he composes himself again. “you should be taking care of yourself.”

you swat his hand away from you, bringing the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. he exhales gruffly in disapproval, but you roll your eyes.

“what do you care?” you flick the lighter on. “not like you’re around to see.”

“i shouldn’t have to be.” he asserts.

ugh. was he trying to fuck you, or raise you?

sangwoo’s still watching you as you take a slow drag. you humour him and hold his stare. in the pools of his irises, you spot a tinge of regret.

does he feel responsible for you? so he should.

you make a show of pinching the cigarette, puckering your lips around it. his eyes are trained on your mouth.

in return, you blow the smoke into his face.

sangwoo snatches your wrist with a hard grip, and you verbally wince in pain. he sternly states your name— as if you’re a kid in trouble.

“i’m serious. are you hearing me?”

“oh my goddd. okay, dad.”

his whole boy tensed. that was a low blow.

sangwoo knew all about your situation. in fact, he was the closest semblance to a father in your youth.

it’s what made the whole bloody affair all the more wrong. you never gave what you had with him a name— if neither of you said it out loud, then maybe the gross reality of it didn’t exist. so that was the last thing you should be calling him.

you were addicted to acting on bad ideas concerning sangwoo, though.

”don’t call me that.” he grits.

“you may as well be.”

his eyes widen at that, and you feel your blood buzzing. the levies had broke— your confusion and resentment from the past year was finally flooding back to you.

you remember how angry you’d been that he was actually gone this time. how he wasn’t around to take care of you; to lecture you or to guide you like he always did. you’ve been so lost. and so fucking angry.

you tch, “you leave enough to be him—”

you gasp as his free hand snatches your jaw, fingers caving into your cheeks. the cigarette falls onto the concrete, and sangwoo swiftly crushes it under his shoe sole. your heart was drumming against your chest.

“is this how you’re going to be?”

sangwoo’s nails dig in a little. you whine under his harsh grip, and you catch an almost imperceptible twitch of his lip.

“huh? will you start to behave?”

you scowl. but he won’t let up. you’d struck a nerve he’d intentionally hidden away.

you gulp with a nod. he lets go, and the crescent moons he’d left on your skin were stinging.

sangwoo straightens his blazer with a deep exhale. he watches your fingers graze over his nails’ indents, and he scowls to himself.

“i’m sorry.” he utters. “i should have kept my composure.”

tears prickled the corner of your vision. he’s sorry? only now he’s sorry? what about the last year? what about when he fucking left you in the dust?

“where were you, sangwoo?”

against your will, your voice is trembling. he notices, and he huffs, frustrated with himself. he doesn’t want to make you cry.

“don’t you know how long it’s been?”

“i know.”

“then why?” you exclaim. you’d been waiting to scream that word at him after it’d been playing on loop in your head for a year. “why would you come back now??”

you can tell there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes he’s not saying. something he could tell you to explain it all. but for whatever reason, he isn’t. it pisses you the fuck off.

but you just keel over with a sob. sangwoo rushes to close the gap between your bodies as he envelopes you in his arms. he has a gentle hand cradling your head, and you bury your face into his blazer— staining it with tears.

you shudder as you cry, and he just holds you. like he hasn’t been able to in his absence. like you’ve wanted him to.

you really did miss him.

“you always do this,” you choke out. sangwoo responds by placing a tender kiss to your temple. “i’m tired.”

tired of missing you. tired of waiting on you. tired of trying to move on. tired of failing to.

“i know.”

there’s a silence as he leaves a patch of kisses on your hair. his thumb softly caressed the skin of your cheek.

you tilted your head to meet his gaze. you saw his adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed, taking in the tears spilling over your cheeks.

in the bitter cold, your shared breaths mixed into fog. you became aware of how the warmth of his body pressed into yours.

you couldn’t take it anymore.

you crash your lips onto sangwoo’s. he jolts at the sudden movement, sending his glasses careening down his nose.

he doesn’t kiss you back. after a beat, you pull away and frown. you open your mouth to berate him— but he silences you with his lips on yours.

you still fit together perfectly. your hands landed on his neck, his on the small of your back. you were both as eager as each other, and he wasted no time sliding his tongue into your mouth.

suddenly you were burning up. you grabbed hold of his jacket lapel, pulling him in even further, and he responded by kissing you with such force your head craned back. that elicited a mewl from you. sangwoo sighed, and you swore you felt the slightest buck of his hips before he restrained himself.

it was all so natural. and so very wrong.

you pull your mouth from his with a pant. there was a line of saliva connecting your lips from just how sloppy the kisses were.

you wipe your mouth. “i have to tell you something.”

he’s eyeing you curiously as you continue, a tinge of worry on his face.

“i’ve been seeing this boy,”

you pause. sangwoo’s expression is unflinching. he doesn’t seem surprised— like he’s already come to this conclusion on his own and you’ve just confirmed it.

full disclosure, you hadn’t exactly committed to the other guy. he was madly in love, obsessed like how you wished sangwoo was. but sangwoo had marked you early: now you couldn’t settle for any love that wasn’t his.

but you were alone for a year. and this guy was here, and he wanted you and he would stay.

you swallow thickly. you don’t want to say it. but you do.

“he proposed to me yesterday.”

his gaze flicks to the ground as he forces out a nod. he pushes his glasses up his nose in thought.

he raises his head as he asks bluntly, “what did you say?”

your mind imagines how he’s back home in his bed, waiting on you to walk through the door. your stomach lurched.

“that i had to think about it.”

he exhales gruffly. you feel your face twist in annoyance. was he.. disappointed?

“what should i have said, huh? if i said yes, i wouldn’t be here.”

“that would have been for your own good.”

in a second of shocked silence, a fire cracks alive inside of you.

you fist his shirt collar, snatching his face towards your level.

“then what the fuck am i doing? what have we been doing,” you frown, your voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. “—all these years?”

he says your name as a warning.

“no. if you want me gone, then why the fuck did you call me?”

“i didn’t say i want that—”

“then why won’t you just stay—?”

“you’re young!”

you jump at the raise of his voice. he steadies himself with an exhale.

he brings a reassuring hand to your one on his lapel, intertwining his fingers with yours. you could cry on the spot.

he repeats your name softly. “you haven’t lived enough. you need to see the world, explore the possibilities— not settle for the first man you know.”

if you’d sat in a barrel a little longer, then maybe you’d be aged enough for him. but you were ripe. far too sour. it repulsed him to crave your taste when it hadn’t even fully matured.

“do you not want me anymore?”

your voice is so hushed, the words barely exist. you’d been wondering why he fully disappeared this time, if maybe he found someone else in america.

“i do want you.” his hand comes to cup your chin. he chuckles, “but i’m old, and i shouldn’t.”

you had been so full of youth, and he selfishly siphoned it. sangwoo started distancing himself in the first place so you’d let go of him— but you never did.

it’d been years of back and forth, push and pull. with you and with the dilemma in himself.

truthfully, he didn’t want to see you with another man. sangwoo loved you more than anything— the only exception being his shame.

“then why..”

he smothers you in a kiss because he knows what you’re going to say.

if it’s so wrong, then why did he take you in that night this all began?

you’d known sangwoo since you were little: your mothers worked late nights together at the store, so he was often looking after you when he had the time to spare between his already busy work schedule.

you didn’t have a man of the house after all, and sangwoo was a smart, caring substitute. he was your first crush before you even knew what the word meant.

last you heard he was off to the united states for business. until you ran into him in some shitty family mart.

sangwoo found you as a mess. your face was puffed, your eyes were bloodshot, mascara streaks down to your chin. it took him a moment to recognise you, and he was very taken aback once he did— obviously since you had grown alot, but because of the state you were in.

there’d been some conflict in your friend group, a boy played with your feelings, something or rather. those details have long since been forgotten to you now. you were heartbroken and alone and his heart just panged at the sight of you so distraught.

he couldn’t let you walk home alone like this.

he’s taken care of you since you were young. he tells himself it means nothing, that it’s not wrong.

but then back at his place, you’re cracking open bottle after bottle. you’re swaying in your seat and handsy with him and he’s intoxicated enough not to resist.

shit’s been so intense with acquisitions and stocks and all, and looking at your pretty face right now makes him forget all about it. he had a fondness for you as a girl, and that still holds now you’re a woman.

he’s not doing anything, but he’s not telling you to stop either. he must be drunker than you. no harm done then, right?

but then the floodgates opened. you’re sobbing, asking him what’s wrong with you. you practically beg for a sign that you’re worthy of someone wanting you. so he shows you, with a chaste kiss to the lips.

that’s all it was meant to be. you’re of age, so it’s not wrong— technically. you’re beautiful and he tells you that. of course men would want you.

but then you kiss him again. and again. and one thing leads to another.

that morning hangover slammed him twice as hard with the burden of what he’d done to you. you trusted him. your mother trusted him. and like some slimy old pervert, he took you back to his house and—

the thought had him retching.

he didn’t think himself a man who’d do such a thing. it was meant to be a moment of weakness, and there was a silent agreement that neither of you would speak it into existence.

but he never expected it to come this far.

this— being how sangwoo’s lips were parting yours with a bruising force. his tongue delved into your mouth with fervour: a hot contrast to the chill air nipping at your face.

you jumped when he squeezed at your ass, simultaneously pressing your body further into his. all restraint was gone. under that neat get-up of his, there was a starved man. and his hands were grabbing at every bump of your body.

he finally settled with both hands cupping your tits through your clothing. he broke the kiss to flick his gaze to your chest, muttering a curse before he latched his open mouth on your neck.

you jolted at the sudden heat, shivering in sangwoo’s grasp as he suckled at your skin—sensitive from the goosebumps caused by the cold.

your head was spinning. sangwoo was fucking starving, almost panting as he left a trail of wet kisses along your clavicle. your own shaky breaths fogged in the air. you steadied yourself with a hand buried into his hair.

he pressed his thumb down on the fabric and swiped over your nipple. you whine, and his groan in response is like a spotlight on the bulge digging into you.

as horny as you are— you chuckle. sangwoo looks dismayed.

“oh, nothing. i’m just surprised you can still get it up,”

he snatches your hand and wedges it down between your bodies, squeezing your palm over his erection through his pants. you gasp.

“are you done?” his tone is almost mocking. he’s out of patience now that he’s this hard.

in defiance, you rub your hand over him. he hisses before stopping you by the wrist. even through the slacks, you had felt his dick pulse at your touch.

“enough.”

he’s serious now, so you surrender.

but not before you gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes as you softly take the skin of your lip between your teeth. sangwoo watched with bated breath.

he practically growls as he shoves your mouths back together.

the flickering of the streetlight overhead was a reminder of your whereabouts. as sangwoo pulls away, he darts his head around to check for an audience. none, fortunately for him.

you cross your arms. he adjusts his glasses and fixes up his blazer, yet leaves his hair a ruffled mop. it makes you snort.

you catch his lip curl into a smile, before he sighs.

“let’s keep walking. it’s not far from here.”

ah yes, his hotel room.

he always booked top dollar. over the years as he’d return home to visit, you’d stay the week at his suite imagining yourself as a spoiled stay-at-home wife.

you told him about these daydreams, and much to his amusement. sangwoo found it endearing— he even adorned you with jewellery to humour the idea.

sangwoo gently takes you by the hand. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, letting the featherlight touch of his fingers linger on your cheek.

you can’t help yourself to press a quick peck to his lips. and as you pull away, there’s a small smile on his face.

there’s a certain energy hanging in the air as you both walked the pavement, all the way to door of his suite. neither of you fill the silence.

tonight might be the end of your life tangled with sangwoo— or the beginning of a new one. you didn’t know which. maybe he didn’t either.

he’s gentle as he leads you by the hand to sit at the edge of the bed. he shrugs off his blazer. impatient, you hook a finger around his belt loop and pull him to stand between your legs.

your hands glide over the expanse of his thighs, and he cups your face in kind.

“you’re so gorgeous,” he mutters. “i don’t tell you that nearly enough.”

you weren’t bitter anymore. you just wanted him to stay this time. but in the back of your mind, you know he’s only laid himself bare tonight because he isn’t coming back.

you can’t linger on that though. not when he’s here, in front of you now, holding you like you’re the most precious girl in the world.

”can you show me?”

without further question, his hands are on both sides of your neck as his lips come crashing down to yours. it’s almost feral, the way he pushes you down against the sheets, hiking a knee to part your legs. he fills that gap with his own pelvis on yours.

clothes weren’t even off yet— still you were both panting from the rush of the kisses. his tongue explored your mouth like he was tasting every last bit of you. his eagerness had you buzzing.

it didn’t take much longer for him to practically rip off your bottoms, wasting no time slipping a hand under your panties. he cursed against your lips when he felt how slick you were already.

you crumpled his button-up in a fist, trembling as he glided his fingers over your cunt.

you weren’t the type to beg, but you were too impatient. sangwoo always takes his time to savour it or whatever. but you’ve had a years worth without being fucked like how he does it.

“sangwoo,” you drawl in a breathy moan. his lips part with a pant at that. “please, just—”

you yelp when he spreads you open with two of his thick fingers. sangwoo latches his mouth to your nape. you hear his heavy breathing at your ear as he repeats curling his fingers inside of you, whimpers spilling shamelessly from your mouth.

“i want you, please,”

your dignity was gone. you could feel how bad he wants it too, with how his boner was rutting into your thigh, how he was sucking hickeys onto your neck to conceal his own grunts.

you take matters into your own hands, quite literally reaching down to fumble for his dick. his hand pulls out at that. you whine.

“patience, sweetheart.” his lips curl into a smirk. cocky ass.

“just fuck me already, you old man.”

he hisses as he pins both your wrists down in one hand. the other slides three of his fingers back into you. you cry out as he sets a ruthless pace, angled to hit your sweet spot each time.

you felt a wet spot on your bare thigh— and realise it’s his tip leaking through his pants. between your moans, you huff a laugh. he gazes at you unimpressed, still pissed from the age comment.

he only hates it so much because it gets him hot.

you felt your stomach tightening, but you force yourself to teeter on the edge of bliss. you didn’t want him to unravel you now, not before he’s in you.

“fuck— fuck me,” you stammer out, lashes fluttering as you pulsed on the fringes of orgasm.

he hums as if he needs to think about it.

“sangwoo, i’m gonna—”

“go ahead, pretty girl.”

he lifts his thumb to rub circles around your clit while his fingers keep pistoning in and out of you. your whole body jolts as you cry out, a mix of moans and cusses as you cum. he draws you out as long as he can, and you writhe against his grip on your wrists.

“i fucking hate you.” you spit.

the sound of his zipper makes your eyes widen, and he snickers.

“thought you wanted this old man?”

he lets go of your wrists, but catches you again as you raise a hand to slap him.

you hated that you wanted him all the time. and he hated himself the same. you just wish you knew how you were supposed to live without that.

his dick slaps your belly as he pulls down his boxers and pants. you gulp at just how hard he was, how his tip had a string of pre-cum connected to your stomach.

“so beautiful.” he hooked his arms under your knees to pull you closer, and you gasped as his tip prodded at you.

you whined his name again when he dragged himself over your entrance. he chuckled, swinging your legs over his shoulders.

“you’ve earned it.”

your moans overlapped each other’s as sangwoo buried himself to the hilt. he paused for a beat, dick twitching inside of you.

“haven’t you—?”

“god, no— fuck..” he snapped his hips for a quick thrust. you both shudder. “you’re the only..”

his eyes squeeze shut with a groan as you shift your own hips to slide up on him.

he wraps a hand around your neck, biting his lip as he starts really fucking you. his grip is enough to make you hazy.

your head lolled back into the mattress as he pounded you like a crazed man. like it’d be the last time he ever could.

“how can you expect— fffuck, expect me to be with anyone else?”

the pad of his thumb slides onto your tongue.

“don’t say that,” he pants.

you close your lips around him to suck, and he mutters a curse as his hips pick up the pace.

sangwoo huffs out your name needily, removing his thumb to kiss you. you moan against each other’s lips as you tremble through a second orgasm. he pulls out shortly after, shooting ropes of cum onto the bedsheets.

he was out of risks to take.

he’s careful as he lifts you into his arms and takes you both to the bath.

you missed being coddled. you missed him, being so.. fatherly.

he scrubbed your skin, he brushed your hair. he kissed your forehead as he tucked you in. he held you close as he fell asleep, and you kept your eyes peeled for as long as you could manage. you knew when you opened them in the morning, he’d be gone.

it was only a few days later that you heard about sangwoo after waking to a cold bed in the hotel.

your mother told you that he was in hot water. he was off the map while there was a warrant out for his arrest— lots of debt and fraud shit. she didn’t believe it. you couldn’t either.

that night, you laid beside your now fiancee in bed. he heard the news, but he thinks it’s just old lady gossip. he’d never guess how deep under your skin you were screaming. sangwoo wasn’t just some guy who babysat you, he was your first everything. and your fiancee could never know that.

your turned your face into the pillow to muffle your sobs as he slept.