#if you see this that means i scheduled this properly and not a wrong day /light hearted

[the-duke-of-nuts]

Happy Birthday to Jan Man the Beloved <3

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[astralis-ortus]

when it's less-than-ideal

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.

you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.

lately, however,

chris has been acting really strange.

"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"

"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"

the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,

but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.

"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"

instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.

how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?

how come it took you so long to properly see chris?

"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"

and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.

"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."

chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."

you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.

"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."

and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,

because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.

"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."

it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,

chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.

"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—

"…babe?"

"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"

a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.

"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,

"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"

oh, you can definitely confirm,

the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[p0orbaby]

Capitana

summary: alexia gets sick of your moaning. she shows you who’s boss

warnings: no actual smut but suggestive

a/n: there’s spanish in this, i am not spanish, do with that what you will

word count: 1.2k

-

Dating a footballer is strange.

Not strange bad, but strange different.

Their working days don’t follow your typical nine to five. Time off is sparse and sporadic. Traveling for work is just another Tuesday for them. And not to mention the time that isn’t taken up by playing or training or flying is filled with interviews or photoshoots or, nutritional cooking videos?

It tracks. Just about.

Regardless, all of it means that Alexia is a very busy woman. So busy in fact that when she actually does have days off you’d think they’d be filled with, you don’t know, non football related activities.

Meals out. Trips to the beach. Sleep even!

Though let’s not forget who we’re talking about here. Alexia. Alexia Putellas. La Reína.

A day without football? Not a chance in hell.

Hooray for you!

You’re laying on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling going slowly insane as the same clip is played over and over and over again.

It’s your own fault really. With almost three years of being together under your belt, how dare you presume that she’d want to spend time with you on her scheduled free day.

You silly goose!

Sorry no, that’s rude. Of course she wants to spend time with you on her days off. She’s told you as much when she gets home tired and achy from training. Or when your hand traces soothing patterns on her thigh as you drive her home from games.

The thing is, Alexia is football and football is Alexia. It’s not just about being on the pitch for her, and you admire her so much for her commitments.

Though as you’ve said, she’s a very busy woman, but you have needs. Extremely desperate, latent needs that only a certain occupied number eleven can alleviate.

It’s your day off too, after all.

You turn your head to find your girlfriend engrossed in her iPad at the dining table. And gosh isn’t she beautiful, even as she frowns in concentration. Intimidating? A little. Sexy as hell? You pray someone shoots you if you ever say no.

You clear your throat to try and get her attention, and not so much as a flinch. You try to not get offended, but what if you were choking? Would she be too busy ogling her own performance to notice?

You try again a little louder just to make sure.

Luckily for you and your safety she acknowledges the noise this time. You’ll live to see another day.

“Do you need water?”

You turn your lip up slightly at the mild irritation in her voice.

“No, nope, all good.” You say as you sit up properly now to face her fully. She’s not even looking at you. “How about you? Do you want me to get you anything?”

She shakes her head, rewinds the video again and locks in her concentration once more.

Jesus this is like Chinese water torture.

“Ale, you’ve watched that same clip for the past fifteen minutes. Why don’t you take a break?”

Finally she looks over at you, and you almost melt when her eyes meet yours.

“No puedo,” she says as she lifts her glass and eyes you over the rim of it. “I need to know what we did wrong so we can work on it in training tomorrow”

You sigh and roll onto your back again.

“But it’s your day off. Our day off” you explain with a huff. “I thought we could spend some time together”

“We are spending time together, no? We’re in the same room, and we’re having a conversation”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it”

There’s silence for a brief moment before you hear her chair scrape and she starts talking again. “Why don’t we plan something for next week? Antes del campamento?”

An olive branch, you suppose. But you’re in it now, you might as well double down.

“I don’t want your attention next week, Alexia. I want it now. ¿Consíguelo?”

Alexia sets down her iPad, her expression hardening. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this attitude, vale?” she says, her tone firm. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat, expecting me to drop everything for you whenever you want. Well, newsflash, that’s not how relationships work”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her sharp words. “Excuse me? I’m not the one glued to a screen all day,” you retort, a hint of defensiveness in your voice. “Solo quiero pasar tiempo contigo”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please, spare me the melodrama,” she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you wanted to spend time with me, you wouldn’t be making me feel guilty for wanting to improve my game”

You shake your head in frustration. “Improving your game? You’ve been watching the same clip for the past hour,” you argue, feeling the tension rising between you. A storm on the horizon.

“At least I’m trying to get better,” she fires back, her voice rising in frustration. “What are you doing besides sulking on the couch?”

“I’m not sulking, I’m just tired of being ignored,” you shoot back, your temper flaring. “Is it too much to ask for a little attention from my girlfriend?”

Alexia’s eyes narrow as she reaches her breaking point. “Sabes que? I’ve had it,” she says, her voice low, dangerous even. “If you want my attention so badly, then I’ll give it to you”

Before you can react, she strides over to where you’re sitting, her gaze intense, her eyes dark. Without a word, she grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet, her touch sending electric shocks through your body.

From fear or something else, you’re not quite sure.

“What are you doing?” you manage to stammer out, your heart racing with anticipation.

Without a word, she leads you out of the living room and through the house, her grip firm and commanding around your wrist as you’re dragged behind her.

Your pulse races as she pushes open the bedroom door and shoves you inside. The air crackles with tension as she closes the door behind her, locking it with a decisive click.

“Strip,” she orders, her voice leaving no room for argument. Her eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy her. “Ahora”

You swallow hard, your body tingling as if covered in static. Silently, you begin to undress, feeling her stare burning into your skin as each piece of clothing falls to the floor.

Once you’re completely naked, she steps forward, her presence dominating the room. “On the bed,” she commands, pointing to the mattress with a stern gesture.

You obey, this time without hesitation, feeling a thrill shoot through you at her tone. One you only really hear snippets of when you’re watching her from the stands. Authoritative. Demanding. Sexy as fuck.

As you settle onto the bed, she moves to stand over you, her eyes dark with desire. “Hands above your head,” she orders, her voice a low growl. You comply, raising your hands and intertwining your fingers as she watches you from underneath her lashes.

She moves to straddle you, her touch firm and possessive as she runs her hands over your exposed skin. “You belong to me,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I’m going to remind you of that”

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a "Hate Club" for my sister? My sister (13) and I (16) have never been close. She is very loud and energetic whereas I am not. She always has been a bit of a jerk sometimes, but recently she has been unbearable to be around. She has been outright mean to our parents, calling them names, screaming at them, throwing things, and doing so every morning when she gets up for school, and every evening when she has to go to sleep. Because of her "screaming schedule", my already bad sleep schedule has been ruined, and I need multiple naps to make it through my day properly because she wakes us up so early. I talked about this to some of my friends who know her, and we decided to make a group chat called "(Sister's name) Hate Club" where we could vent about how she has affected us personally. Sometimes our vents would devolve into mean comments or theorizing about why she's like this, but we never said any of this to her in person, or to anyone outside of our group of 8. However, one night when my mom (63) and I were coming home from a play we had gone to see, she saw a notification for (Sister's name) Hate Club. I had my phone connected to the car's display to play music, so she saw the notification, clear as day. I lied to her at the time, and told her that it was a group chat for stuff in our scout troop, as I didn't feel like explaining what it was on the way home. I thought that she would be mad at me. After I told her, she didn't talk much for the rest of the night. The next day, she confronted me as I was leaving for a doctor's appointment. She said "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm pretty angry at you right now." When I asked her why, she told me the group chat. She started saying how I was a bully, and how I was acting just like my sister does when she's mad. She wouldn't let me get a word in, so I rolled my eyes and left in the middle of her sentence (which I understand was not a good move, but I was already running late and I was angry now too). When I was done at the doctor's appointment, I decided to text her that it was actually a vent group about my sister to try and explain why the group wasn't actually a hate group. When I got home and into my room, she confronted me and we had a big argument. She kept on saying how I was bullying my sister, and apparently she talked to 2 of my friend's moms, saying "If your child made a hate group about someone, would you be mad?". They both responded with some form of "I'd be livid". One of those people got in trouble with their mom and had to write an apology letter to mine once their mom found out what my mom was talking about. In the argument, I told her that "I need a space to vent" and she said "The venting is not the problem, the name is". When I told her "It's just a joke name, because I obviously don't legitimately hate her", she said I was still bullying her. After that I got very defensive and started swearing (not directly at her, but for word emphasis), and she started saying I was disrespecting her now too. At that point I said I would change the name, because I know she's a hard-head and would rather die than admit that she's wrong in any given situation. I've changed the group chat name twice, and now were acting like nothing ever happened. I've talked to my friends that were in the group, and they've said that I'm NTA, but I'm still not sure if they are right or just biased because I'm their friend and they were hearing everything from my perspective. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[604to647]

Sniffles

1.5K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

A/N: Inspired by @bebsjo’s ask about Tim wanting to take care of Shutterbug when she’s sick. I answered it but couldn’t get the thought out of my brain; thank you for the ask, love - please consider this a more complete answer! 💕

This is our The Rockford Portfolio couple but as always with their stories, can be read as standalone (though there is a relationship milestone in this one 😊).

Summary: You’re sick and you don’t want to give Tim your germs.

Warnings: None! Fluff. Snot. Soft!Tim, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 / Series Masterlist

Tim is just putting the finishing touches on the arrest report for a pair of mid-level Pie henchmen when his cellphone starts to buzz with an incoming call.  He picks up upon seeing from the caller ID that it’s you, “Hey Shutterbug.”

“Hey baby,” you croak.

“What’s wrong?  Where are you? Baby, are you okay?” Tim stands up, ready to sprint out of his office to get to you.

Laughing at your sweet boyfriend’s reaction to a simple cold, you try to talk him down from the ledge in a soothing, albeit scratchy, tone of voice, “Don’t worry, Detective - it’s just a cold!  But I left work early so I wouldn’t spread my germs around.  I took some medication and I’m just getting into a bed with a hot cup of tea right now.”

“Can you FaceTime?  Need to see you, gorgeous.”  Not that he doesn’t believe you, Tim would just feel a lot better getting visual confirmation that you’re all tucked into bed, getting the rest that you need.

Your tired but still cheery face lights up Tim’s phone screen, and he exhales a little sigh of relief to see you already in your pajamas even though it’s still early afternoon, “Do you have everything you need?  Soup?  Drugs?  Tissues?  Throat lozenges?”

“I do, Tim – thank you, but baby,” the you on his screen chews your bottom lip and looks at him apologetically, “I don’t think you should come over tonight.”

Tim tilts his head, confused, “What do you mean?  Who’s going to take care of you?”

You start to laugh but it immediately devolves into a coughing fit, “I’ll be fine, Detective!  It’s just a cold – I’ll take drugs, I’ll sleep, I’ll get better.  I don’t know how contagious I am, but I don’t want to get you sick, Tim.  I know you.  You’ll insist on going to work even when under the weather and you’ll be miserable.  While I’m sick you should stay at your place, just to be safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, Detective.  It’s not my first cold!  I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tim is about to respond when his Captain peeks her head into his office and gestures with her hand for Tim to follow. 

“I gotta go, Shutterbug, but text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it over, okay?  Feel better soon, baby.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Detective Rockford.  Be safe!”

Four days.

You’ve been sick for four days.  Tim takes some solace in knowing that you’ve taken the time off work to properly recover, but still… it’s been four days.

After the first night back at his house, Tim takes to sleeping on the couch in his office.  Even though the mattress in his master bedroom is indisputably less lumpy, the couch is less depressing.  At least his office is something: it’s work.  His house constantly reminds Tim of what it is not: it’s not his home. It’s not with you. 

Every time you and him talk on FaceTime, you’re decidedly still sick (are you actually getting worse?!) and the tiny bit of hope Tim harbours that he’ll be able to come home to you soon evaporates.  He decides not to tell you where he’s been sleeping - you’ll just worry for his back, and then he would have to explain how miserable he is without you and make you feel bad.

Instead, Tim listens as you tell him you took yourself to the doctor to learn that you have the flu, not the cold, and listens at your wheezing laugh at how ironic it is that you had your flu shot scheduled for next week.  Tim nods approvingly when you confirm that you’re having groceries and meals delivered and bites his tongue from saying that he could - wants to - do all that for you.  He watches as you trudge to the kitchen in your bathrobe with your runny nose and messy hair to make food, and he tells you you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen - because you are.  You tell him he’s silly but still give him the biggest smile you can manage in your exhausted and achy state.

You fall asleep every night while still on the phone with Tim as he tells you all about his work day and his current case, lulled to sleep by his soothing baritone voice.  Even after you’ve nodded off, Tim doesn’t hang up right away – partially to make sure your breathing doesn't get too laboured through your stuffed up nose, but mainly so he can look upon your peaceful visage for a little while longer.  He misses you so much.

By night five of sleeping without you pressed up against his chest, Tim has had enough.  After work he makes stops at the grocery store and pharmacy before heading to your place.  Laden down with bags full of soup and frozen lasagna, cold medication, ice packs, a new hot water bottle, cough drops, plus one plushie (something called a "Squishmallow"? Its "bio" on the tag says she’s a nurse) among other supplies, Tim turns his key in the lock of your apartment for the first time in nearly a week.  Immediately, he’s hit with the familiar scent of your perfume and the peppermint of the tea you’re currently making; he knows you're in the kitchen just from the soft shuffling and sniffles he hears - all of it a comfort to his senses.

Now all he has to do is see you and hold you and he can finally feel complete.

At first you think you’re hallucinating when your big, burly detective appears in the doorway of the kitchen.  You must be sicker than you thought - or maybe you accidentally took an extra dose of flu medication?  But the strong, thick arms that wrap around you feel real.  And the rough hands that cradle and massage your head feel soothing.  You melt right into that hard but cushiony chest despite not being 100% sure it isn’t a figment of your fever addled imagination.

“Whhhharrhwudoongnhrrrrtm?” you mumble.

Petting your hair indulgently, Tim chuckles, “Want to say that again, Shutterbug?”

You tilt your head back to look sleepily at your handsome boyfriend, “What are you doing here, Tim?”

“I’m here to take care of you, baby,” Tim says matter-of-factly, “You’re not getting well fast enough for my liking – I’m missing you too much.”

You melt a little at Tim’s puppy dog look, but sigh, “Baby, I miss you so much, too.  But if you’re here, you could get sick.”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hot forehead, “Shutterbug, when we live together, we won’t be able to escape the other person when one of us is sick.”

Your gasp transitions into a cough and you have to wait until your throat clears before you ask, astounded, “You want to live with me?  Even with all this snot?”

Tim nods as if to say, even with all this snot, adding, “Only if you want, Shutterbug.”

You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this, “When were you thinking would be the right time for you to move in?”

Very aware that you haven’t actually agreed to live with him, Tim answers with truthful, but carefully chosen words, “I’m ready whenever, if ever, you’re ready, baby.”

You look up at Tim wide-eyed, trying to make sure that he means it - that he’s serious about taking this next step in your relationship; when you see nothing but eagerness in the softness of his eyes and the steadiness in his bright, reassuring smile, you throw your arms around Tim’s neck, germs be damned, “I’m ready, Detective!! As soon as I’m better, please move all your stuff in!”

Tim hugs you back tighter than he probably should - absolutely over the moon that he’s never going to have to leave your side again, that he and the woman he loves are going to make a home together.  So lost in his own reverie, he’s jolted back when you let out a whimper of pain, “Oh fuck, Shutterbug, did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you’re still beaming at your considerate boyfriend, “No, I’m just achy all over, all the time.  You could never hurt me, Tim.”  You genuinely believe this with all your heart.

“How about I run you a bath with these bath salts I bought and you have a nice warm soak while the lasagna heats up?” offers Tim.

“Will you sit with me while I’m in the bath, Detective?”

“Of course, gorgeous.”

“And we can make plans for the big move in?” You grin, eyes twinkling - you haven’t felt this energized in days.

“Nothing I would like more, baby,” Tim smiles as he hands you the plushie cat he bought you, grinning even wider when you squeal with excitement and crush the stuffed animal to your chest in elation.

You titter with happiness, grabbing Tim’s hand to lead him towards the bedroom. But when he doesn’t come readily, you turn back and to your confusion, you see Tim wincing, the hand not in yours reaching behind to press against his lower back as he arches in a painful stretch.

Eyes narrowing, you place the hand that’s still clutching Cassie the Nurse on your hip and tilt your head suspiciously, “Timothy. Where have you been sleeping?”

Btw this is Cassie the Nurse:

[littlepuddingsworld]

Alien stage?? I've heard of it... seems mid... 🙄😒

(PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ITS SO FIRE I SWEAR)

It is good tho, if you don't wanna write it at the end of the day then oh well. However!! If you do write something, i will literally worship you /j /t /all jokes aside, any works are welcome with open arms, just make sure to take care of yourself and be careful on not accidentally overwhelming yourself <33

-panna cotta

𝔐𝔜 𝔖𝔄𝔙ℑ𝔒𝔘ℜ

you are actually so right about everything just... ugh😔😔😔 im okay!!! boo,,,, <3333 im just trying to make that my new hyperfix and coquette up my new bloggie a little, since i don't know how to do aesthetic right at least cheesie bot with me again</3 they ignored my blogs so long uh-huh so its a lucky sight<3 but like!!! i still can't let go of the idea of Luka. I love Ivan, don't get me wrong, but Luka is such a diva.

♡ unhealthy relationship, childhood traumas, bad socialization, mild harassment (probably?), drabble

just imagine that this is a closed weird-ish (unique) child whom you have known since childhood, constantly carrying with you because this is the only one who did not have clique with anyone, and at first he kind of resists, but over time just lets you, even looking for you on his own when there is such an opportunity, because the schedule of study in the garden is very loaded - singing, learning to comprehend death, philosophical teachings about accepting death, singing, gymnastics, singing, eating, studying, individual programs - but you still look for each other when it's time to walk-

always.

indoors, in a closed society in which everyone has been with each other for several years, with an ever-decreasing number of "unsuccessful students" and without the opportunity to get to know each other properly, everyone clings to each other like oxygen, especially when studying becomes more and more stressful, but you always find each other in the dining room in the classroom, in the garden - soon everyone in the garden knows that you are close, even if LUKA sometimes keeps especially aloof when you are in the garden among the flowers, but you don't mind knowing his personality. you're just glad you have him.

a friend.

in an atmosphere in which a little more and you will go crazy, in an atmosphere of isolation and pressure, when you awkwardly grab each other's sleeves, trying to say that you are friends, not even really knowing how to be friends or communicate, since aliens have never treated you the way you want to be treated, to have a cold, submissive, soft, but such a living and breathing LUKA is like having something soft and delicate on your hands, like red flowers, but if the flower is red, then LUKA... LUKA is like the sun.

it's cold, but sometimes it's warm, even if you know it's unrealistic; it's so soft and gentle, even though you can't reach it with your hand. you can reach LUKA with your hand - he does not even resist, on the contrary, he sits closer to you with his sleeve in his mouth.

so silly.

but yours.

huddle closer, like red flowers, trying not to get warm, not to hide, finally closing our eyes, knowing that even closing our eyes, nothing will disappear - but for the first time you are happy about it, feeling the body next to you, so soft and obedient, breathing. even if LUKA doesn't like running, he prefers hide-and-seek, you agree to sit with him. aliens, you're even ready to hide from the whole world during his favorite game, and you're ready to show up if it means they won't realize that LUKE was hiding with you and won't go check this place again! and you're ready to give him food, and you hate seeing him so mildly vulnerable, like even a badly fallen branch (but you know they never fall!) could kill him. LUKE is soft, so gentle, so delicate that when he doesn't move for a long time, you can't help but be afraid that something has happened to him.

LUKA doesn't mind. on the contrary, he hates it when you leave without him, when you have fun without him, when you are with others without him - but you don't mind - is it strange? he has no one but you... and perhaps two more children - and rather encourage him to cling if he feels good. after all, isn't this normal? Who will teach you what is "normal"? LUKA is older and understands this better - he looks up with his eyes, drooling on his sleeve, and you just gently snuggle closer to him so as not to disturb him. he is so gentle and small, even if he is taller than you - when did he become like this? he was always so little...

you do not notice at what point you are really inseparable. his hand is in your hand, he is hanging on you, you are almost wearing him, his shoulder is in your shoulder, he is on your chest, you are on his chest, lying together under a tree, lying with your head on each other's shoulder, cuddling, cuddling another, putting your head on your head - over time, personal space becomes more less and less, both in quantity and in time. he's got his heartbeat under your fingers, your own beating to the beat. LUKA looks at you with his eyes, and although there are no tears in them, you still kiss him on the forehead. it's so disgusting that you can't do anything. it's so frustrating that he doesn't even fight, and even though you realize that it's impossible for you to fight, not in this atmosphere and society, he's like a rag.

... it's so weird when he keeps snuggling up to you - and you to him so you're probably no better - even as you get older. he already looks different, children's cheeks and fat disappear, exposing chiseled elegant features full of some gentle sadness of a luxurious but little-lived butterfly, mixed with longing for something long lost and forgotten, and... sun. some kind of sunstone. there is less of that gentle, childlike softness in him, more like fresh milk, - and more of that silent severity, even sharpness. his face changes, he stretches out, his gaze is no longer the same, he no longer drools, does not look into the distance with the same face, does not cling to you like a lost chick, does not look like someone abandoned and unable to survive on his own, the name of which is spinning in your head, but you can't tell, when he puts his head on your chest, but now it doesn't feel like that. it's still your LUKA, but not your LUKA, and you don't know how to explain it to him, especially when he's still looking up from the bottom, as if thinking about something, but now it seems so... strange and distant.

you are not uncomfortable with his touch or proximity, but seeing him like this seems unfamiliar. his gaze changes, his body changes, he is silent with a completely different meaning, and you realize that he has been through too much - now you are old enough to understand this - but you still do not know what you can say or do. you can no longer protect him, give him a portion, hide him in your hands, promise to always be together, kiss him on the forehead, hide behind bushes so that no one finds you while you huddle together as if for the last time - none of this will work.

and you get even more disgusted - from yourself, from the situation, from him - when he tells you "don't worry. I will protect you. I guarantee your safety." with a direct eye-to-eye look because you don't want protection - you want time back, hiding in the bushes and wet spots on you or on his sleeve from saliva. you want to lie under the trees again, tell him about your day, draw and laugh.

you don't want that.

... you only get the point when you watch some person die on stage, but LUKA doesn't look affected, scared, or shocked.

he's the best of his kind - you know that yourself, everyone know it - but it all looks funny and ridiculous when you don't just see strangers dying, but you see your LUKA on that stage.

and you are disgusted and ashamed that the only thing you are happy about is that you are not this dead man on stage and that you are not LUKA's opponent. because you know that no one has a chance.

... well, almost no one.

HYUNA has been special since childhood, and if you could not expect such a performance from LUKA, then you expect everything from her.

[babyleostuff]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Seungkwan version of Cheol and Hannie's calling you clingy in front of the boys?

say you love me | boo seungkwan

genre | angst & fluff

word count | 1.6k

pairing | seungkwan x reader

author's note | this was actually so hard to write, cuz boo is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff

“It’s your turn Seungkwan.”

After weeks of busy schedules, restless nights and days spent locked up in a studio, your boyfriend and his bandmates got a few days off, getting the time to properly rest before going back to even crazier schedules due to their upcoming comeback. 

You almost squealed when Seungkwan told you that he was going to have a short break, because you couldn’t remember the last time you got to wake up next to him, or even find the time to give him a goodbye kiss before going to work. 

Despite your obvious excitement, your boyfriend on the other hand, didn’t seem as happy as you were.

At first you brushed it off - of course he must've been very stressed and overwhelmed, so his mind must’ve surely been cluttered about thoughts of work, but you figured that this break was going to be the perfect time to spend some quality time, maybe you could even manage to go on a trip somewhere. 

But as you were sitting in his and Jeonghan’s apartment, the boys’ loud laughs echoing through the living room as they played a board game, Seungkwan still looked like something was bothering him. 

“Seungwkan,” Seungcheol repeated, trying to get the younger man's attention. “Sorry. Got a little distracted,” he could bullshit everyone around him, but all of the boys and you knew that he wasn’t just “a little distracted”.

For the past three hours he had been unusually silent, which was the first red flag, because Seungkwan was never silent. 

With a look full of worry, you scooted closer to him, until your thighs were touching. “You sure everything is alright, baby?” You asked quietly, wrapping your hand around his bicep, gently stroking it with your thumb.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his shoulder, when he shifted away from you, reaching for a water bottle. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion, because Seungkwan never dismissed your affection, especially physical, and he was definitely doing it now. 

“Boo, please tell me what’s wrong,” you said in a hushed tone, noticing how his hands were shaking as he was holding the bottle. You covered one of them with your own in hopes that it would bring him some kind of comfort, because you couldn’t stand seeing him so obviously anxious. 

“Could you stop nagging me, and find something else to do?” His voice was much louder than yours, drawing the attention of the rest of the boys to you. “It’s really overwhelming how you’re just clinging to me.” Seungkwan said, without even looking at you. 

The place went silent, as Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchanged worried expressions, not knowing whether they should say something or not. It wasn’t often that Seungkwan would snap like this, especially at you. 

“No need to be so rude Seungkwan,” his full name felt like poison on your tongue. “You could’ve just let me know if I was making you feel uncomfortable,” you said, letting go of his arm. 

Without sparing a second glance, you walked out of the apartment, pulling Seungkwan’s sweater tighter around yourself as you were met with the cold breeze. You didn’t realise when it had started raining, the droplets of water hitting your face one after another, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You’d think this would be the worst situation to be stuck in - walking in the rain without an umbrella and no phone to use, because you stormed out of the place without bringing it with you. There was no way for you to call any of your friends, and you did not intend to go back to Seungkwan after he treated you like that. 

But the way he snapped at you was so much worse for you. It didn’t help that he had never been so mean to you before, you knew that his teasing and “bullying” were just jokes. 

This certainly wasn’t one. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, as a passing car totally drenched you in water from the puddle on the street. You tried to pull the material of his sweater even closer to your body, but there was no use in that. You were a shaking mess, and if you didn’t change into something dry, you’d surely end up sick. 

Cursing under your breath, you sat at a wet bench - it’s not like you could get any wetter. You closed your eyes for a second, before looking up at the sky, that was just as grey and sad as you were. 

“Baby, what are you doing? You’re going to be sick,” all of a sudden a familiar voice pulled you out of your miserable thoughts. Turning your head towards the source of it, you noticed Seungkwan, who was just as drenched as you, his hair sticking to his forehead and the shirt he was wearing totally soaked by the rain. 

It broke you, seeing his slumped shoulders and tired eyes, probably because of the numerous sleepless nights and days full of hard work, and you had to force yourself not to rush towards him and tell him that everything would be alright. 

Instead you dropped your head, looking away toward the busy street, forcing yourself not to let the tears fall, even though they would most likely be covered by the rain hitting your face. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said, cautiously stepping towards you, almost as if he was scared that you’d run away if he came any closer. “I know that there is no excuse for my behaviour,” his voice was shaky, just as his hands were before, and you knew that if you’d look at him, you’d burst into tears.

So you turned your head even more away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“I should have never snapped at you like that, and I’m really sorry,” you knew that what he was saying was true, you could hear it, but it didn’t mean it made you feel any better. “You really hurt me Seungkwan,” your voice was merely a whisper, drowning in the loud noises of the cars and the rain. 

“I know. And I hate myself so much for treating you like that,” you could hear he was getting closer, and at that point the only thing you wanted to fall into his arms and forget that any of this had ever happened. 

“I know that no matter what I say it won’t change what I did, and I don’t need you to forgive me,” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling onto your cheeks. You were so torn between forgiving him immediately, and screaming at him.

“But I just want you to know how fucking sorry I am, you didn’t deserve any of that. You always stick by my side no matter how hard it gets, and I took that for granted and pushed you away. I should have just talked to you, maybe try to explain how I’m feeling, but instead I treated you in the worst way possible,” even though you weren’t looking at him, you knew he was crying as well. “I pushed away the most important person in my life.” 

Yes, maybe you were weak, maybe you were wrong for feeling bad for him, but love makes you do stupid things. You knew you should’ve been harder on him for snapping at you like that, for calling you clingy for god’s sake, but you couldn’t sit like that anymore. 

“Please just tell me the next time you feel overwhelmed like that, and need some time alone,” you spoke up, glancing at him for the first time since he came. “I understand how burdened you are, and that you worry about a lot of stuff, but I don’t think I’ll be able t-.” 

“No, please I promise I’ll never do something like that ever again,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of you, and taking your hands in his. “You can’t know that Seungkwan. But I want you to talk to me,” you squeezed his cold hands. “Just tell me when you need some time for yourself, I promise I understand that sometimes you just need to be alone.”

“I know, baby, and I was so stupid for not doing that immediately,” he lowered his head, placing it on your knees, as his body shook with his sobs. You snaked your hand around the back of his head, gently pulling at the strands of his wet hair. “You’re not stupid Boo, and don’t hate yourself for doing that. I may not forgive you right now, but don’t think about yourself like that, ever.” 

He slowly lifted his head, his blood shot eyes looking straight into yours. You smiled at him, and cupped his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. 

“Please, tell me that you still love me.” 

Your heart broke, the way he sounded so concerned, made you want to wrap him in all of the blankets you had at home, and kiss him all night long. It hurt you so much that he’d think you didn’t love him anymore. 

“Of course I still love you, baby. I guess thighs like that happen in relationships, and I would never stop loving you because of that. I’m happy that you see what you did wrong, and I know that you’ll know better now.” 

“I never meant what I said. You could never be clingy.” he said, nuzzling his head further into your hand. “I know. Now let’s go, or we’ll get sick,” you said, standing up, and pulling him with you. 

“Mingyu lost by the way,” Seungkwan smirked, pulling you closer to his body. 

“I knew it.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife

[olderthannetfic]

Ok, LONG story and a rant. ESL

I have a "friend" who recently got on the topic of disabled children, including severely disabled, mentally and physically children, and how people having an abortion just because of it are bad people. She's not pro-life, but her opinion is if you want a child you need to "accept what you get." She has even spoken about how she'd never even consider an abortion if she had a disabled child, and that she'd be a great mom. Blah blah blah.

Starting off, we went to school in the same class until high school. Her entire life she was terrified of people with disabilities, especially developmental. One time in 8-9th grade she started scream crying because our teacher's son with down syndrome had to join class for 2 hours because of the teacher's schedule. In 3rd grade she thought needing glasses was infectious and always ran away from the two kids in class with glasses.She's had some of the weirdest reactions to people with autism, ADHD, and similar diagnosis.

Yet she's here proclaiming how good of a mother she'd be to a disabled child, as a key argument why people screening for disabilities are bad.

Here's my position, as someone who started studying in a field focusing on working with disabled people in all stages of ability and disability, her sentiment is incredibly stupid to me. If you know the fetus will become an incredibly disabled child, it's not a kindness to have it, you're not mother Mary for giving birth to a child that'll never be able to live independently in this world. I've experienced some of the most unpleasant sides of this, and I don't mean helping clean people after the toilet, or showering. I've been inappropriately groped, touched, and kissed by more people than I can count. Some of them understand it's wrong when I tell them a firm no, some get huffy and angry, some get violent. That's just the surface problems I've dealth with. It's difficult, and painful, and to me it's just a job I can step away from at the end of the day, especially since I'll be able to find work in other medical fields when I've completed my studies.

Yes these are people who deserve all the kindness in the world. But I won't lie, the quality of life for someone who's only way of communicating is crying and hitting people is not a kind life. They don't get to live lives where they can just go on vacation, and see new places on their own. They can't start a normal job. They can't start a family. Half the people I work with haven't seen their relatives in years, or are only visited for an hour or two every week. They see people having relationships and having relations in movies, and with their caretakers of family, but they can never have that. Most of the ones who've tried to touch me, or claimed I'm their wife, or girlfriend did it because that's what they see but don't understand what it actually means. I've dealt with disabled people who were victims of extreme abuse not just from family and strangers, but also people in my work field, who're traumatized but don't have the ability to work through properly because it's already difficult for them to just getting through their days. They have their happy moments, but most of all of this happens in an incredibly small social circle, with strict routines, where only other disabled people exist, and they don't even get the chance to be part of "normal" society. We workers are literally trained to "deal" with these people, sure we're also there for socializing, but most of us are also literally just a resource, we're not a friend, or a family member, we're workers.

Some of the places I've been at are more like a 24/7 kindergarten, with a huge lack of funding and manpower. You won't believe how many times we've struggles trying to help people during extreme and violent meltdowns, all because we're understaffed. The job also lacks male workers, which means it's harder to help with any male patients who voice feeling uncomfortable being helped by women. Do you know how incredibly painful it is to see the shame on someone's face who's more abled to voice this discomfort, but still not able to care for himself and needs help with, to us, basic things such as putting on clothes, or taking showers?

People like this "friend" annoy me, because they idealize the idea of having a heavily developmentally disabled child. They see people with more "mild" cases, or self-sufficient disabled people, but ignore everyone living in cramped disabled "communes" or under poverty and high levels of abuse.

--

Children, animals, causes: a lot of people romanticize the idea of taking on more than you can handle. It's not romantic. It's just irresponsible.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Love Begins From a Mean Lie: Victor Collection Event Story

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. Translation notes are marked with *** Dividers: @/natimiles

It was one day when I went to submit a report to Victor........

Victor: This is a grave situation!

Victor looked through the documents and let out a curt voice.

Kate: Huh, is there something wrong...?

Victor: No Kate, your work is perfect as usual! It’s just……

Victor: WILIAROGJUDROGALELHARIWILJUDELL!

(Uh, is that some kind of spell…?)

Victor: ....This is the order of the cursed people you wrote in your most recent report.

Victor: Do you notice anything?

Kate: Notice?

Victor: I’m not in it!

Kate: Ah, that's true.

Victor often has a busy schedule as the Queen's aide…….

He can't put in as many Crown assignments as the others.

Besides, I had not written a report on Victor recently, as I was accompanying the others on missions.

Victor: ……. Actually, Her Majesty the Queen told me that she didn't have enough information about me.

Victor: So, Kate! Will you write about me with your own hand?

Kate: I'll leave it to me, that's what I do!

Kate: But ..... Is there any mission that you can participate in from now on, Victor?

Victor: That's the thing. Crown assignments are allocated based on everyone's abilities.

Victor: Adding me after the fact would please everyone, but I can't deny that it will detract from the mission.

Victor: Besides, even though Her Majesty the Queen wants the information, the Queen's aide's job is not going away.

Kate: As usual, you've been busy……

Victor: …..Yes! How about you interview me?

Victor: I'm sure Her Majesty will be pleased if you put it all together and give it to her.

Kate: An interview....... Okay, I will! I look forward to working with you.

…….Thus began the interview to write down Victor's information.

Victor: My name is Victor. I am a the Queen's aide and a member of the Crown!

Victor: Height 183.5cm! Birthday is February 20th!

Victor: If you deliver any presents to Crown Castle, I'll be grateful for them!

Victor: Charming points? There are many, but if I had to choose just one, it would be the mole on my mouth.

Victor: This is also one of the "Seven Wonders of Vic," where if you press it, the left and right sides will be switched the next day!

Victor: I’m a cheerful person, who loves everyone at Crown and is loved by everyone at Crown. (👀??? That last bit is news to me.)

Victor: ……Come to think of it, we were talking about how Crown doesn't have a mascot.

Victor: I guess you could say I'm the mascot!

Victor began speaking without pause, and I took notes earnestly so as not to miss a single word.

(…..Hmmm. There's a lot of subjectivity in Victor's work, so we'll have to separate that properly.)

(Any other questions…….)

Kate: Victor……when do you usually sleep? I feel like you’re always awake.….

On sleepless nights, I wander into the kitchen and find Victor busy making sweets.

Early in the morning, I woke up for some reason and was taking a walk in the garden, and I saw Victor watering the flowers……

Victor was always there when I noticed it, so I wondered when he slept….. 

Victor: I'm just like everyone else. Sleep at night and get up in the morning! That's the secret to good health!

Kate: That’s right. When we met in the morning, you didn’t even have bedhead, so I thought you weren’t sleeping.

Victor: No way! I'm a normal human being. I need my sleep.

Victor: I have naturally good hair, but I don't miss taking care of it every night, so it's hard for me to have bedhead.

Victor: But, it’s not like I don’t sleep at all alright? If you don’t mind, why don’t you come wake me up?

Kate: Eh…..

Victor: If I could see your face when I woke up,…….I would be so happy that day.

Kate: …..Ah, I’ll think about it.

Victor: Hehe, you’re always welcome!

Watching someone wake up makes me feel like I'm trespassing on their private life, which makes me feel a bit uneasy…..

(The only people who are allowed to see that kind of thing are the people who are really close to you.)

(….. I wonder if even the always energetic Victor is a bit languid when he wakes up from sleep.)

Even though I refused, I couldn't help but imagine Victor waking up.

(....should not. I need to concentrate on the interview! Next question is....)

Kate: Recently, have you done anything bad Victor?

Victor: Hehe...there's always evil in Crown! Good question.

Victor: Bad things…….I guess so. I lied to an innocent child for my own personal greed.

Victor: As an apology, I'm going to prepare a delicious royal cake for the child! That’s usual news.

Kate: Victor is preparing a cake to apologize! That’s new.

Victor: Of course, it depends on the degree of lying....... By the way Kate, what kind of cake do you like?

Kate: I’m torn...... I like anything with chocolate, and strawberry shortcake too....

Kate: Oh, and items made with seasonal fruits are also hard to give up.

Kate: .... But I'm not being lied to by you now Victor, am I?

Victor: …..Do you believe so? Maybe without you even realizing it, I could be telling a terrible lie.

Kate: Then let's go to a cake shop together.

Kate: I have a lot of questions and choices to make, so please bear with me.

Victor: Hehe……You're so cute and confused, I might just buy the whole store.

(Victor would really buy everything …..)

Victor: Now, what's the next question?

Kate: Next, yes….

Kate: Victor is full of himself and cheerful……

Kate: You don’t seem to have anything to be afraid of, but is there anything?

Victor: Afraid of…..huh.

Victor: ……Everyone at Crown.

Kate: Oh, maybe that’s why you’re “afraid of cake”? ***

Victor: "Afraid of cake"?

Kate: By telling people that you’re scared of what you like……

Kate: It's an oriental story where….. you can get what you like from someone who scared you.

Kate: Victor, I think you intentionally said you were scared because you love everyone in the Crown.

Victor: Hehe, that’s an interesting story.

Victor: It's true that I cherish and love everyone at Crown……but what I just said is true.

Victor: If the Crown follows its path to the end and conquers evil with evil…..

Victor: ……Someday I will be judged by them.

Kate: What…..?

Victor: …..I think there is such a possibility.

I didn't think Victor had any crimes that would warrant being judged by the Crown…..

I don't know everything about him, so I couldn't deny it.

Kate: Because you're afraid of being judged... Are you afraid of Crown?

(Like God announcing death, the Crown announces destruction to evil.)

(Victor may also fear Crown as a symbol of his own destruction.…)

Victor: ….It’s a little different.

Victor: If I'm guilty, I think I deserve to be judged. There’s no fear there.

Victor: Just…

Victor: I'm so happy now that I'm spending time with everyone...I'm sad and scared that it will end someday.

(Victor isn't afraid of being punished...he's sad that his days are coming to an end.)

(In that case….)

Kate: …. I don't know what crime you’re guilty of Victor.

Kate: That sin, if it can be atoned for in some way….I don’t know.

Victor: ….Yeah.

Kate: But ……I, too, want these days to continue!

Kate: So if I can help, please give me a shout.

Kate: I will always help you Victor, just as you always do!

Before I knew it, I told Victor that I wanted to help him, and he smiled kindly at me.

Victor: …..Thank you, Kate.

-Then I asked many other questions and finished the interview with Victor.

Kate: Hmmm ........ I wrote a lot, but….

Kate: Does Her Majesty the Queen really want this information .....?

There are some parts where Victor's way of thinking and personality are well written.

Even if Her Majesty the Queen were to read it, it would contain information that would be neither harmful nor helpful.

Victor: Of course, I’m very happy! I'll be sure to give it to Her Majesty the Queen later!

Victor's jewel-like eyes sparkled as he picked up my report and smiled.

Victor: ……Thank you for writing about me, Kate.

When I returned to Crown Castle after the interview, I met William.

In the color of the setting sun shining into the hall, his red eyes that never lose their edge find me, and they flicker happily.

William: …. It seems it took quite a while to submit the report today.

William: Did you have afternoon tea with Victor?

Kate: No, it seems that Her Majesty the Queen actually wanted information about Victor…..

Kate: I interviewed Victor and compiled it into a report.

William: Hmm? …..that’s an odd story.

Kate: What…?

William: Her Majesty the Queen knows Victor better than anyone. She wouldn’t say she doesn’t have enough information.

Kate: What…? Does that mean Victor lied? Why?

William: Regarding Victor's lie this time...Is there anything that concerns you?

Kate: Concerned about…..

FLASHBACK

Victor: ….. Thank you for writing about me, Kate.

What left a particularly strong impression on me was the happy look on Victor's face when he saw my report after the interview.

FLASHBACK ENDS

(Could it be….)

Kate: Victor lied…..

Kate: …..Because he wanted me to write about himself?

William didn't confirm or deny my guess, and smiled leisurely.

William: …..Our work must not be known to others.

William: Only those who walk under the light are etched into Britain's glorious history.

William: There's no need to complain about it. But….

William: Sometimes you may wish to carve it with your own hands and leave it behind.

William: -As Britain flourishes and shines brightly, there is a dark shadow that falls over it.

(Victor wants me to write it down…..?)

(….If so, he’d be happy.)

As a fairytale keeper, I can record Victor's steps and make him happy.

Thinking like that, I became even more motivated.

(Besides, I would like to continue to write about it.)

(…If I do that, I'm sure I'll be able to get closer to Victor.)

***Just a note about the "afraid of cake" scene and being linked to a story or tale in the East. I couldn't find anything myself and I'm 100% sure I translated this scene inaccurately. So, take it with a grain of salt.

[Master Lists]

[a66-1]

starving

part 1 | part 2 [you're here!]

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

finally got the idea for part 2. excited?

me too

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen.

semi proofread bc who cares

The next morning was exhausting as the last.

You got up early to go running. If you ever have the chance, you run until the sun comes up. You need to stay fit if you want a boyfriend. It was easier when you were on your meds. Almost like you had the will to live those mornings.

You were back at the house around 8 am. You weren't scheduled for work today so... You headed back to bed and really, just slept the day away

You woke up around 5 pm. 5, really? God, you are just some depressed child.

You got out of bed for the second time, and changed into a dress. It was hard seeing yourself in a dress after 2 years. You stopped going out because alcoholism and anti-depressants aren't really two peas in a pod, are they?

Well this is why you quit. You dropped your therapist and your meds because you were better, and your mom stopped helping with the payments, and now you can go back to partying.

Minus the heavy drinking.

Hopefully.

You tear your eyes off yourself. If you stare too long, you'll end up convincing yourself to stay in bed longer. You configure the rest of your outfit, and grab a small black purse. Throwing your phone in it, you leave the house quicky. If you don't, you might properly convince yourself you're just as ugly as you thought..

The drive to the bar was silent, save from the honking cars around you. Fuck, what if this is the wrong idea? I mean the looks everyone will give you, you look so bad and so ugly and god this was such a bad--

You hear a car honk behind you. The light turned green. You lower your head, sighing, and taking a left.

Once at the bar, you slip into one of the seats nearer the back, feeling uncomfortable in the seat. Adjusting your dress down, you cringe while looking around the bar. There's so many pretty women here, and comparatively you are way under them.

You order a drink, sipping on the alcohol for the first time in months. Fuck, your therapist would be losing it if she knew you not only stopped meds but started drinking again...

You rested your head in your palm, watching others interact. Pretty women just have a way with men, a way you've never had. The buzz of the alcohol was enough to make you not question why nobody has interacted with you, other than the bartender. People probably think your such a loser, I mean, who would just sit here and drink--

"Hey. You're, uh.. That girl from yesterday right?" A gruff voice appears behind you. You flinch forward, whipping your head around.

Oh. This guy.

You slowly put your drink down, your palm over the top of it.

"And who are you?" You ask, eyeing the man. He didn't have his mask on. He was... Really cute.

"A customer." He sat next to me, his eyes trained on mine. I felt sort of flushed under his gaze.

Fuckin' small world.

You spent some of the night talking with him. Still don't know his name, or why you ran into him here, but you don't care nonetheless.

You were looking for sex this night but... Is a connection so bad?

Like you could make a connection with someone who is out of your league.

thank god i finished this. 3 drafts later, and im sorry its kinda short. trust part 3 is gonna have the good stuff, this is kinda a filler so it can get to the good stuff.

ily babes...

-a661

taglist:

@i-am-hungry-24-7 @arminarlertssword @haven-1307

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen navigate an argument with their s/o while away

requested by anon : "may i request how would svt react or what they'll do if they're having an argument with their s/o while they were away for work so they can't meet? thank you!!"

notes: i desperately wanted to write 13 different things for my first properly angsty reaction but my brain just said no :((

masterlist

seungcheol, joshua, wonwoo, dokyeom

he tries to solve it right there and then, in that same phone call, or on the same day. he hates fighting with you, hates it so much, so if he doesn't try and resolve the issue immediately then it'll plague his mind for ages and cause him severe anxiety. has to make up with you while hearing your voice or seeing your face, though, because otherwise it just feels so impersonal. honestly, he's reluctant to even start fights over the phone, because it's difficult to make up when you're miles away, but he tries to handle it as quickly as possible, because he loves you far too much and doesn't want to be arguing with you for too long

jeonghan, woozi, mingyu, minghao

just . goes MIA on you. partly because he wants to give you time to cool down, partly because he's overthinking everything, and partly because he's a little prideful and doesn't want to say sorry first. really, is it his fault that he's being worked to the bone and accidentally fell asleep before managing to text you goodnight? genuinely needs you to text him first after the argument, needs to hear or see that "we need to talk" line because even though it might terrify him, he knows it means you've both had time to think through the fight with a clear mind, and he hopes that you'll both be willing to stay together enough to get through it. 

junhui, hoshi, hansol, seungkwan, chan

you fight with this man over the phone, you break his heart. because this is him, in the middle of a busy schedule, making time to talk to you, and having to end a phone call feeling sour and bitter is the worst feeling for him ever. will be willing to apologise immediately, even if he wasn't in the wrong, even if he doesn't normally admit his faults, because this is you and he's terrified of losing you especially when he's not actually beside you. it's always scarier, for him, to fight over the phone because there's a certain detachedness that comes with physically being so far away and he would genuinely, genuinely hate to lose you like this. 

request guidelines

reactions tags:

@jeonginssa @magicaltonaru @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @turningcarat @nakedgrapes @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @iheartyujin @summery-bat @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @ejspencer14 @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @saythename-chess @yonabutnotyuna @youthoughtiwasfeelingyou @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @butiluvu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ocyeanicc @zozojella @thesmellofcoffeeandrain @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @nananacomeonnnn @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @hansolaria @gam3bo1z @marisblogg @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride

[skriblee-ksk]

Adeline Ordelia

Summary:

[An elegant and diligent student who seems to know exactly what she wants. She has a strong sense of justice and an aptitude for efficiency. A girl who always strives to find the truth in the name of justice, she politely detaches herself from the students of NRC out of caution because of their questionable demeanors.]

[Despite her initial awkward air, she actually has a habit of delicately (yet strictly) taking care of those who need it with a crazy amount of patience. It’s like she has experience at this.]

General Info!

Name: Adeline Ordelia

Nicknames: Adelia and Silver (only used by Cynthia to annoy her).

Birthday: August 12

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight

Dominant Hand: Right

Hobbies: Reading, Embroidery, Book binding, Journaling, and Scheduling the day.

Likes: Star Anise Tea, Victorian Styled Buildings and Outfits (or whatever equivalent in TWST), Solving Mysteries, and Chatting with Cynthia.

Dislikes: Celery and The nickname “Silver”.

Fears: Ghosts (and the specifics of after-death).

Traits: A natural talent for elegancy, Having a strong urge to do the right thing, and Dissuading people efficiently from bad decisions.

Extra Information: She has a sibling-like close friend who attends RSA, Her favorite color is a deep blue, She likes stargazing (casual), She's memorized half of Heartslabyul's rules by Year 1, and is attempting to memorize the rest by the end of this year (for fun).

“Reveal the site of what once was.” Snapshot Evidence: Adelia’s unique magic that can be used with any picture (physical or digital). To use this properly, she must think of a specific person and a specific time, and if that person was at the place she took the photo of during the time she was thinking about, the person appears in the photo permanently. It's a particular spell with a penalty system that creates more blot if she's wrong than when she's right. Thankfully, Adelia's cautious and meticulous, so it's rare for her to ever be wrong in the rare times she does use this power. Although her photos are generally known to be true through others' confirmations of events, it's not completely trusted by others because she can't solidly prove that these photo manipulations are an exact illustration of what happened. Unknown if it can accurately predict the future.

More about her under cut!!

Curiosity:

Housewarden Riddle’s overblot wasn’t the first one I witnessed.

The first one was just down my neighborhood, when I was about… Hm. 7 years old. I was coming back from a walk with my escorts when I saw Styx members quarantining the overblotted person. Mm, I guess I couldn’t call them a person anymore. I didn’t get to see much of it. I wasn’t tall enough. Still, I could see some of the damage caused to the nearby buildings, with pitch black ink dripping down and slithering through the cracks of the sidewalk.

Apparently, the sight wasn’t morbid enough since it didn’t pique my curiosity enough for me to learn about it.

Of course, until now.

Why, you may ask? Well, because I know about the basics of blot accumulation and overblots now, first off. But more importantly, because Housewarden Riddle wasn’t the last overblot I witnessed.

Doesn’t anyone else find this strange? Doesn’t anyone else find this dangerous?

Doesn’t anyone else want to piece together this awful trend? Or is it just a minor every day event for them? Are you aware of what’s happening?

It was merely sympathy at first. I respect Housewarden Riddle, and there must have been a great deal of trauma involved for him to get to that state. That’s what I told Cynthia.

But two in a row? Both of them are Housewardens. And so close in time, too. Aren’t overblots supposed to be rare? That’s why I’m curious.

Will this trend continue? And if it does, what am I going to do about it?

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I want… to help stop it.”

“I mean, you always have the choice of ignoring it, you know. Like most others do?”

“… Then why did you even ask—“

“Well, just in case~ Even though I already knew the ever-so-righteous Adelia wouldn’t just ignore it.”

“So that’s your goal, right?”

Gather data on the overblots and see if there’s any future ones.

If there are, figure out the reason.

Ultimately, help stop it, but keep others’ safe until I can find a way.

“Wow, that’s a lot. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Even if I don’t get to all of my objectives, it’s good experience. And you’re already invested in this potential mystery, aren’t you?”

“Ehe, correct!”

I want to help people. I can’t tell you the reason, but I do. I want to save you. Even in minor ways. Even in final ways. Even if you don’t want to be saved, I want to anyway. I’m sorry.

It’s just because I’m curious.

- - -

A/N: YAYYY basically done with the YAI to TWST pipeline!!! Here's Adelia, my other daughter and the other main character of Your Artificial Image that I missed so much.

In here, basically what Adelia and Cynthia do is just. Try and find out what's happening with the overblots, and try and stop them. Near Book 5, Adelia decides to pair up with (threaten) the Headmage and get more access to the student files. Anyways, that's how those two will get more and more involved within the main story!!! I will expand more on them, hopefully. While Cynthia does things for the sake of doing, Adelia always has a reason for her actions, and that's what makes them suit each other so well!!

AND NOW!! With them, I’ll be able to draw other characters I don’t draw as much because their personalities suit other TWST characters’ dynamics!! YIPPEE YIPPEE WHAT JOY!!!!!!

anyways. yeah. thanks.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! I've been reading a lot of your content lately and love your writing so much! I was wondering if I could request a little fic about Dogma x a very outgoing, naturally confident social butterfly kind of reader who works on base and a lot of clones seem really into them, but they only ever flirt with him or try to ask him out. And their admirers can't figure out why Dogma of all people but the reader has no kriffs to give and just keeps giving him all their romantic attention until he gets it. Thanks in advance!

Two Souls Intertwined

Summary: You’ve made your choice, you just have to convince Dogma that you mean it.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 886

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I'm always happy to write for Dogma, so I hope you like this!

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” You don’t look up from the game you’re playing on your comm as your coworker, and sometimes friend, drops into the seat across from you. “You’re surrounded by attractive men. At all times. And you want Dogma?”

You glance up at the way she says Dogma’s name, “What’s wrong with Dogma?” You ask, offended on his behalf.

“Well...he’s just...he’s not much fun, is he?”

“He doesn’t have to be fun, I like him anyway.”

“Just…” She shakes her head, “I know that so many of the men have a thing for you. And you’re, like, scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

You scowl at her, “I’ve made my choice, and, just for your comments, I’m going to go flirt with him even harder.”

She chokes on her caf, “I...what?”

You throw a cocky grin at her, and push to your feet, downing your caf in one long gulp, before you head out of the break room.

At this time of day, Dogma is probably outside. He likes to take what free time he’s allowed to read something. For a moment, just a moment, you feel bad about interrupting his free time, though you push the guilt aside with ease.

It’s not like he’s ever said, “Leave me alone,” after all.

You head through the halls, and open the door that leads to the courtyard in the middle of the base.

Why this base has a courtyard is beyond you, but you’re glad it does. It offers a nice change of pace from the sterile white and gray halls of the base.

And there he is, sitting under a tree with a datapad in his hands.

A bright smile crosses your face and you dutifully ignore the way that your heart skips when you see him.

You’re well and truly in love with him.

Dogma doesn’t say anything as you walk over to him, and he says nothing as you settle onto the ground next to him. Though he does glance at you when you shift so that your back is pressed against his arm and your head is tilted back to rest on his shoulder.

“Back again?” He sounds more amused than anything.

“Always.” You counter cheerfully.

“You are determined, aren’t you?”

You tilt your head back so you’re able to grin at him.

Dogma’s smile is tiny, but it is there, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

“What?”

“Today’s pick up line.”

You press a hand to your chest, a look of mock offense crossing your face, “I would never-”

“Ah, so I’ve been imagining all of those other pick-up lines, then?” Dogma asks with an arched brow, and you laugh and shift so you’re sitting next to him properly, “You know, my brothers are convinced that you’re using those just to get a reaction out of me.”

You roll your eyes, “They’re just jealous that I only have eyes for you.”

“Or they don’t believe it.” Dogma points out, “I’m sure that there are people who are more similar to you in personality than me.”

“Eh, maybe. But I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” You reply.

Dogma sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “You...someday I’m going to actually believe you when you say stuff like that, and then what are you going to do?”

“Plan our date. Well, schedule our date. I already have our first date planned. We’ll get dinner and go for a walk, and then I’ll kiss you on the way home.” You nod once, “It’ll be perfect.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

You flash a crooked smile, “What? Is it really so hard to believe that I only have eyes for you?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Hm, well then.” You muse thoughtfully, “How about this then? I’m in love with you.”

Dogma jolts in surprise, and you smile at him.

“I’m in love with you, and if you’re really not interested then let me know and I’ll leave you alone. But. Until that happens, I’m going to keep pursuing you.”

“...you’re in love with me?” He asks slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason? I like you. You make me feel safe when I’m around you. You don’t judge me for being me.” Your grin widens, “I love you.”

Dogma releases a strangled noise and lifts his datapad to hide his face, “You’re impossible.” he complains, though he drops the datapad and flashes a small smile, “I’d like that date, actually.”

“...really?”

“Really.”

You laugh and fling your arms around him, knocking you both over, “Thank you! It’ll be the best date! You’ll see!”

Dogma just laughs and folds his arms around you, “I’m looking forward to it.” He replies, a warm smile on his face, “But I need you to get off of me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You scramble off of him and settle on the grass next to him as he sits back up. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Want me to read to you?”

“Will you?”

“Yeah,” He flips back to the start of the book, “Get comfortable.”

You shift and drop your head to his shoulder, and as soon as you’re settled, he started reading.

And this, really, is all you ever wanted. Who cares if no one else understands. You certainly don’t.