#in pursuit of an honest world

[pompeii-the-houseplant]

The trend of artists like mitski and hozier and mcr being reduced to a ✨palatable social media aesthetic✨ because to analyse their works for what they are (brutally raw experiences of immigration, colonisation, queerness, violence, etc.) would be "too unsavoury" is a form of censorship.

[phantomrose96]

What the hell happens in the pikmin game?? Those little colourful bitches have been around for ages, but i never bothered looking them up, i just figured they were cute little mascots of some game. But your posts are making me question everything. Is it a horror game? (I know i could just google it, but asking you is funnier)

Yeah you're right asking me is much funnier :)

Pikmin is a fun and relaxing game! You play as a little astronaut man who gets to spend his days growing Pikmin, who are sweet and peaceful little plant creatures with leaves, buds, or flowers on their heads. You can corral them around with a little trumpet, like a bouquet of flowers following you through the pretty and whimsical landscapes of planet PNF-404 :)

Wait did I say fun and relaxing?

Sorry, typo.

It's a brutal skill-based survival game (❁´◡`❁)

So then maybe you're wondering, what's up with the Pikmin? What was that about growing a bunch of little flower guys? Well growing the Pikmin is super important!

It's super duper important mainly because you need to replace the Pikmin who die in the carnage of battle for you!

Battle against what?

Everything.

See on PNF-404, Pikmin are the bottom of the food chain. Just about every living breathing creature on this planet is orders of magnitude larger than the Pikmin and munch Pikmin by the hundreds for breakfast. Predators will do this instinctively. They will do this unprompted. They will do this while you're not looking. They will do this endlessly until every last Pikmin is dead.

So... what good are the Pikmin? What chance do they stand?

Really easy. Pikmin are the most violent creatures in the entire game 🥰🥰🥰.

How else do you survive when you're small and fragile other than incredible violence? Pikmin can exist out and about in swarms of up to 100. And the only way to survive predators as small little leaf creatures is to beat those predators to death with incredible mob violence before they can kill all of you.

Pikmin don't die like plants. They die like warriors.

And sometimes, this is the hardest mechanic to handle. Left to their own devices Pikmin will seek to shed blood. It's up to you to call them away from orchestrating their own demise, their own pursuit of the glory of Valhalla. It's in their nature. It's in their plant-blood.

And they go down hard. They shriek when snapped up in the jaws of predators. They glub and wail when drowning in water. They trill out screams when on fire. They choke and cough in poison. They die instantly to electricity. And you'll know a Pikmin is well and truly dead once it lets out a final whimper, and a ghost drifts away from where it once stood. This can happen by the dozens. This can happen to all 100 at once.

So wait, wait I've gotten far ahead of myself. Why the violence? Why the death? Why the fighting? What was that about a little astronaut man?

Well your astronaut man is Olimar, an honest and simple family man who's a freight ship captain from his home planet of Hocotate. He's a truck driver! He's just a guy taking his first vacation in years.

And a meteorite strikes his ship, tearing it to pieces as it crash-lands on a completely uncharted planet. Welcome to PNF-404...

And so you're Olimar. A truck driver. A nice dad. A victim of capitalism with the world's worst boss. Out on vacation.

Your ship is destroyed. No one is coming for you. No one will save you.

The oxygen on PNF-404 is poisonous.

You have 30 days before your life support system runs out.

You have 30 days until you die a brutal and lonely death.

Your only hope is to find every scattered missing piece of your ship--30 of them--strewn across the planet, return them to your ship, and repair it, before your 30 days are up.

But this is simply impossible. You're one tiny little man. You wouldn't be able to lift a single piece of your ship, let alone 30 of them, let alone doing so while fending off the wildlife hellbent on killing you.

But the Pikmin seem to like you...

So all that death? All the carnage and destruction? It's all in the effort to repair Olimar's ship before he suffocates. You pave a path of destruction decorated with the bodies of any creature that stands before you and your missing ship pieces.

The Pikmin do it. The Pikmin trust you. The Pikmin follow your command and die by your command. After all, you're growing their species. Oh did I forget to explain that part? The "how" of how growing Pikmin works?

Simple. Pikmin are grown from the corpses of the creatures they kill :).

If you kill something, the Pikmin take it back to their base and process it for pieces, and grow new Pikmin from it. That's how you get all the nice little flower creatures following you around. :)

Is it good enough? Can you sleep at night knowing that 50 creatures who trusted you implicitly were slaughtered under your misdirection? All to retrieve a hunk of metal which is 1/30 of the hope of getting you home alive? 100 slaughtered? 200? Day 30 is approaching. Things are looking bleak.

You're Olimar. Day 30 has arrived, and you haven't fully reconstructed your ship. You have no option to stay. Your life support has run out. You watch the Pikmin you've left behind, as you attempt to start up your ship which has not been safely repaired.

You try to take off, and try to make it home.

It does not go well.

But at least the Pikmin have another corpse to carry.

[r3starttt]

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT

PAIRING: Act 1. Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

SUMMARY: Address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut. You're just one of her toys.

CW: Mean Cait. Slapping. Oral. Fingering. Spitting. Cum eating.

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona

The body armor that once weighed on your chest now rested on the seat beside you. The vest's sturdy stood out against the soft fabric of the seat—a strange contrast, like the life you lived and the one you longed for.

The rest of your enforcer uniform clung to you, a reminder of duty yet unfinished.

That day, Caitlyn—ever the composed commander—had begun to offer quiet gratitude for your unwavering support.

You, along with Vi, had stood as her pillars, the only ones to truly understand her relentless pursuit—not for justice, but for an end to the cruel theater of war.

Your edge had always been the things left unsaid: the secret resolve you gleaned from stolen glances and murmured words between Caitlyn and the flame-haired recently announced as enforcer. A silent agreement lingered—Jinx had to fall, no matter the cost. Yet Caitlyn’s resolve was tempered by her steadfast refusal to risk innocent lives.

You’d stayed behind that day, waiting to close the chapter for her, to ensure the mission was marked as complete, and to witness her return to a world where the war was finally over.

But the war wasn’t over.

When Caitlyn returned, it was with a storm at her heels. Her uniform hit the floor with an uncharacteristic force, and the soft light of the room betrayed the scratches on her face and the glassy sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. Words felt unnecessary; they always had between the two of you.

Your place wasn’t to pry but to steady her.

As her anger and exhaustion hung heavy in the air, you reached for her. With practiced tenderness, you cleaned the cuts on her face, folded her discarded uniform, and whispered a quiet apology—not for yourself, but for the weight she carried.

Maybe it was in the way your gaze softened when it met hers, or the steadiness of your touch where others faltered, but in those moments, something shifted.

Now, months later, the quiet crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room, its red glow painting your skin in gentle warmth. You sat with your legs crossed, wrapped in a cocoon of tranquility, the stillness of the Kiramman house a sharp contrast to the chaos that had once consumed you both.

Yet there were nights—nights when the weight became too much—when Caitlyn would seek you out.

On those nights, she would find you, her command unspoken but clear. Her bed became your world, the green sheets wrapping around you like ivy as her lips left marks on your skin—marks meant for no one else. Her hands traced the edges of your being with a reverence that bordered on desperate. Only her name left your lips, whispered like a prayer.

She never asked you to stay outright, but you had made yourself at home in her world, entwined in her life. You followed her, among the enforcers who now joked that you were just another one of her loyal dogs.

Caitlyn never denied it, not anymore. But it was in the quiet hours, when the rest of the world faded away, that she sought you—she didn’t need to speak her desires aloud; they were etched in every glance, every movement.

And you stayed because you knew you were needed, because she had carved a place for you in her life without words.

But distance crept in, inevitable and suffocating. It didn’t take long for the whispers to prove true—there was no room in her world for many. Caitlyn had always been honest in her way, thanking you with a sincerity that almost hurt, reminding you that your unwavering devotion, your strength, your unyielding support, was a rare gift she’d craved all her life. She wanted someone who didn’t just desire her but believed in her, who stood firm at her side without faltering. And yet, as much as she needed you, she resented it.

Caitlyn couldn’t control you, not as easily as she wanted. It frustrated her. She loved the way your hands felt against her skin, the way your fingers brushed her cheek as she confided in you, the sound of your voice filling the lonely silence of her room. But she didn’t love you—not fully, not in the way you hoped. You were a balm to her restlessness, a constant she could lean on when the world pushed too hard, but never enough to tether her.

You’d learned how to navigate her moods, how to bend without breaking. Like now, slipping into her office before she arrived, knowing she’d storm in after another grueling encounter with Ambessa—a woman who saw her as nothing more than a pawn to mold and exploit.

You knew how to disarm her. Hands resting on her shoulders, soft words murmured close enough to be mistaken for affection. Kisses trailing down the curve of her neck, slow and deliberate, as you whispered what she wanted to hear. It worked every time. Your hands found their way to her uniform, fingers deftly untying it, sliding beneath to stroke her skin. A touch on her stomach, a gentle caress, until she let her head fall back against your shoulder, surrendering once again.

For a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe this could be something real—something more than the empty transactions of power and need. But Caitlyn tore that hope from you as swiftly as it bloomed. Her hand shot out, closing around your wrist like a shackle, firm and unyielding.

“Enough,” she said, her voice a blade cutting through the fragile warmth you’d dared to nurture. The command carried no affection, only the sharp edge of authority. She stepped back, retreating out of your reach, leaving you hollow. Stunned, you stayed frozen as her words shaped the air between you into walls you couldn’t scale.

She had trained you well, hadn’t she? To obey without question, to absorb the sharpness of her words without flinching.

You’d mastered it: nodding, listening, falling in line. But this time, you couldn’t help the silent plea that escaped your gaze as you looked at her, your heart hanging on the edge of one unspoken question: Why?

Her posture stiffened, her body a fortress against you, and though her face betrayed no anger, what you saw there was worse—something colder, crueler. Her boots struck the floor in a rhythm that mocked the silence between you, an unyielding percussion that quickened the ache in your chest.

“Do you really think I don’t- see through you?” she hissed, her voice low but serrated, each word an incision that bled you dry.

You opened your mouth, desperate to explain, to justify, to reach her. “I thought you wanted me to help—”

She didn’t let you finish. With an almost lazy disdain, she perched on the armrest of the chair you’d just been resting in, claiming the space as her own, as if to erase your presence from it entirely. “Is that what you think this is? Help?” Her eyes locked onto yours, her gaze unrelenting and merciless. “You think you’re different, but you’re not.”

The words landed like a physical blow, robbing you of air. Your chest tightened, but no anger rose to meet her cruelty—only the dull, familiar ache of resignation.

"Caitlyn,” you whispered, but Caitlyn was quick to silence you with a hand raised in command.

“Stop,” she said, her voice softening, but only to the point of condescension. “You don’t get to make this about you. You knew what this was. What this is.”

You wanted to fight, to push back, but the weight of her words was suffocating, a reminder of your place beneath her. “You’re useful,” she continued, her tone almost clinical now. “But don’t mistake that for being necessary.”

Her cruelty was a scalpel, carving away any illusions you’d held onto. And still, you couldn’t muster defiance. Your head bowed, your gaze falling to the floor as her power washed over you, cold and relentless. You should have walked away. You should have demanded more. But instead, you let her words seep into your bones, leaving you hollow and malleable.

“I should’ve been focusing on the job,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, undoing her bun with a frustrated tug. “You were just a distraction.”

The admission sliced through you, but instead of anger, you felt a strange, masochistic sense of purpose ignite. She was pushing you away, yes—but even in her rejection, she gave you a role to play, a way to exist in her world. And you were too far gone to reject it.

“If that’s all I am,” you murmured, stepping closer, your voice trembling but resolute, “then let me be it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered in her eyes—something human. Regret? Guilt? But it was gone too quickly to grasp.

She reached for you, her hand pulling you close with the same commanding force that had always bound you to her. Grasping at your hair with painful force, one you ached for.

Her touch burned, not with warmth but with possession, and you let yourself fall into her. You would let her define you, break you, shape you, because belonging to her—even like this—was the only place you felt whole.

Her voice dropped to a whisper as her breath brushed your ear. “You’re exactly what you let yourself be,” she said, her tone both damning and tender, sealing your fate. "But you need this, don’t you?”

Her lips brushed against yours—soft, fleeting, a cruel promise of something more—you realized you would always let her pull you back in. Even if it destroyed you.

"Get on your knees." It was your last chance, one you weren't doubting on using even if it meant getting kicked out the second she was satisfied.

The floor coldness- It's stiffness and fancy pattern, digging into your skin. You looked up at her just to meet her eyes, entirely locked on yours.

Something about the way she felt beneath your hands, even with her uniform still on- half of it, at least. You wanted to prove your worth.

You'd stay here for hours If that's what she needed, if that's what she wanted.

Her hands came to cup at your cheeks, holding your head in place. The tip of your fingers fidgeted with her belt, forcing it open before you slid her uniform pants down, taking her underwear too with a desperate whimper.

"What're you staring at?" Her hand comes closer to your chin again, leaning her pelvis towards you. Yet your absence of words maddened her.

Beneath her eyes- you, on your knees for her. With those shiny orbs and long lashes, the drool on your lips- yet, unable to do anything. "Cait..." You were just as pathetic as any other woman she's ever dragged into her room.

Her hand pressed agasint your cheek, smacking at it. "Address me with respect." The couple of muffled moans- whines, were quickly shushed by her. “And keep your mouth shut, understand?,” tears threatened to fall from your eyes before you pressed a gentle kiss over her clit.

Her head tilted back Inmediatelly, holding yours in place.

You sticked out your tongue, lapping at her folds while your nose brushed her clit.

Caitlyn could be mean, she couldn't care less about you, she could hurt you and manipulate you, but even so she was as pathetic as you were for her. Wet just by the mere thought of having you at her mercy, opening her legs for you to sink in between her thighs and slurp with obscenety at her pussy.

"Good girl" her tone comes quiet but firm, mockingly even. Shes got her lips slightly parted, her teeth peeking enough for you to catch a glimpse of how they sink on the flesh of her bottom lip.

She's still mad at you and it shows with how much she's digging her nails into your scalp. How tight she's got you between her legs.

You begin bobbing your head on your own. Her clutch on your hair firmly enough to lead you, as she always does. Your fingers tease on her hole, making small circles around her arousal while your tongue threatens to fill her inside.

You feel your lips growing wetter, a mix of the drool that will soon run down your chin and her juices. Her skin tender with each caress, each kiss on her clit or between her wet folds, her hole clenching at the emptiness, aching for your fingers to ease the ache. But you don't do anything until the burning of her nails digging on your wrist catch you off guard.

Only there your eyes open again, your saliva connecting your lips to her clit as you pull back enough to look up at her. "Do it right or leave."

Her fingers pulled your hair, forcing your head back. The furrow on her eyebrows gently faded into a mocking laugh at your aroused face, and eventually curved eyebrows. "What are you waiting for? mhm?"

Her hips adjusted forward, legs wide open for you to see and touch yet not savor any soon.

You thrusted your fingers with ease, growing wet at the obscene sound that came with it, at how her smile grew just enough to give you the satisfaction- you got the job done as she wanted.

The back of your head burned at the strength with which she held you in place. Forcing you to stare up at her, admire her blue strands of hair cascading on each side of her face, drool at the sight of her nipples beneath her messy blouse. You needed to touch, to put her breasts on your mouth and kiss each piece of skin you could, savour her whole and leave marks on her skin even if it meant her words hurting you lately.

"Please?" the whispers tone was ignored by her selfish pleasure. Only looking back at you with curved eyebrows and her pretty lips opened, whining at how good your fingers felt inside her. Caitlyn was practically riding on them at this point, only giving you the pleasure of looking at her like this, a desperate mess.

It wast only when you felt her tightening around your fingers. Only when your wrist got wet enough- her grasp on your hair forced you close to her pussy again. "Clean it." her breathless command was obeyed in a matter of seconds, with your tongue all over her wet, slurping and kissing and lapping and savoring everything of her while your fingers thrusts slowed down.

Caitlyn loved your devotion, loved seeing your face covered in her wet, your fingers swallowed by her, how you opened your mouth for her to spit on your tongue and how you swallowed it all. She adored the gagging when her fingers dove too deep into your mouth, loved that drool that connected your tongue to her lips or your tongue to her pussy whenever you got to eager.

But you could never be enough for her.

And so, after all these months of helping her, working for her, making her cum and being her toy. You realized you've fallen for it just like everyone else.

Next time she got stressed and her body was aching with all the tension gathered in the last week, it wasn't you on her office but Officer Nolan, sitting on the same desk she'd got you leg wide open for the first time.

[intuitively-her]

You are so gorgeous/handsome, and you look very put together.😍 People know that they gotta come correct if they want to come towards you. You're a charmer. You might unintentionally flirt with people a lot. You're a HUGE lover girl/boy. Your hugs are the best. And you could be a gift-giver as well. I'm getting family vibes here. You seem to be detached and in your own world most of the time. You have this mysterious vibe to you. You don't give too much of yourself away at once. You like to take risks and can be a wildcard at times. This is really admired by others. You're the fun friend in your group. Your energy reminds me of Maddy Perez and Nikki from save the last dance. I’m also channeling Santana from glee lol. You could be very popular. Someone here is in a leadership position. Sports team captain? You lead with logic and practicality. Someone here likes to debate with others. This is my argumentative pile. King of swords energy. You're veryyy disciplined when it comes to your work. Literally nothing or no one could knock you off balance. And you've literally worked to bring your manifestations to life. You're that girl/guy because you remain strong even through your darkest times. You always stay committed to yourself. You remain hard on the outside, but soft n gooey on the inside.🥰

Extra confirmation: Famous, Mean girl, Younger woman, Elusive, Intoxicating, Bitchy, Stuck-up, Sarcastic, Apathetic, Smart ass, Beautiful, Sexy Voice, Friendly, Co-worker, Side chick/side man

Channeled songs: Try again by Aaliyah and Antidote by Travis Scott

Things always seem to work out for you no matter what. Some people view you as a "good luck charm" lol. It's like you have the Midas touch or something. You're very strategic with your plans. Smart, sexy, and independent. You have a very balanced and precise mindset. People could never really cross you. You're always 10 steps ahead. Your energy reminds me of TheWizardLiz. This is my workaholic pile. You've built everything that you have from the ground up. Magician energy. You're a master manifestor.⭐ Your fairness is very admired. You're not afraid to speak up for what you believe in. You could give great advice as well. You have such a light energy! You have a very open and honest personality. You might be a social butterfly. You live more of luxurious lifestyle. I heard "livin like larry"😂. You could have a really nice car. Someone here has beautiful long legs. For someone specific here, you are that girl/guy because you didn't allow a heartbreak to change you. You stayed strong and compassionate.

Extra confirmation: Competitive, Obsessive, Impulsive, Pretty skin/skin tone, Liar, Charming, Player, Dark-skin, Boss, Confident, Humble, Big butt, Trustworthy, Mixed signals

Channeled songs: Act up by City girls and Independent women pt.1 by Destiny's child

You've fought hard to get to the position that you're in today. The luxuries that you have did not come easy. I'm channeling the movies "The pursuit of happiness" and "The Wolf of Wall Street". You may have struggled a bit growing up. But you didn't let that define you. It took a lot of commitment to get where you are today. Someone here could work with stocks. I heard "business mogul". You like to remain optimistic and keep your options open. You're very kindhearted and uplifting to others. You are such a giver. Many people would consider you a "girls girl". Heavy water sign energy. People know that they can count on you for a good time. You have a very bold and confident personality. You walk into rooms like you own the place. Star energy. You're the kim k in your family/friend group lol. A lot of strangers assume that you're famous or some type of influencer. Someone here could wear afro-centric hairstyles.

Extra confirmation: Wifey energy, Trustworthy, Feline eyes, Introvert, Pretty eyes, Eccentric, One night stand, Younger woman, Charming, Cheater, Egotistical, Sister, Intoxicating, Funny

Channeled songs: P power by Gunna and Wife at home by Bryson Tiller

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🌸Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!🌸

*Credits to @anitalenia and @sultryana for the text dividers🩷*

Masterlist

Paid readings

[bbokicidal]

"I Guess I Never Knew You." | OT8 [SKZ]

Genre : Angst [NO COMFORT]

Pairing : SKZ OT8 x GN!Reader

Summary : Based off of a request asking for reactions/how it would play out if the members were to cheat on you during your relationship. Each scenario is different - and these are rather short simply because I am trying to focus on Kinktober right now. Hopefully whoever requested this will be satisfied!

Warnings : CHEATING, lots of crying, angry responses from the boys, dismissal from the boys, reader gets angry in a few of them, yelling, etc. Very emotional.

These situations are all fictional and are not made to represent the boys. While I do write them as well as I can - based closely off of their personality and how I think they would realistically react - I honest to God do not think any of these men would be capable of cheating on their partner. Specifically Jeongin.

Bangchan - He cheats while you think he's busy with work

The excuses were so easy to make with you. 'Sorry, Angel. I'm staying late at the studio again because Jisung is sick.' 'I'm going in early to work on choreography with Min. See you.' 'Be back late, don't wait up.'

When eventually he just stopped giving you warnings, worry set in. His health was your top priority - but nothing of your own was his apparently. You'd walked into the studio with a small lunchbox full of snacks and water for him, assuming he was staying late again, only to see him with someone in his lap.

It's enough to make you tense, barely hearing his whispers and gently shushes of worry. He was sorry, he meant it, he swore, he didn't know you would find out --

It took every bone in your body to not hit him with that little metal lunchbox.

Lee Know - He cheats with an old friend from school

A girl you'd seen in his posts before. You'd found them kissing in a park while you were on your way to work, walking along the sidewalk only to stop and stare. A few girls had also paused to point and giggle, assuming the girl he was holding hands with was his girlfriend as he'd never done anything with you in public - no one knew that you were the one he should've been sucking face with.

Minho kisses the girl once more before they depart, pivoting on his heel only to fault. He stares at you from where he stands, your unmoving form timid and beginning to shake as the tears streaked down your face. He lifted a hand to reach out, watching as your body turned and - in the pouring rain - dropped your umbrella in your pursuit to get away.

He yelled, crying out for you to stop and let him explain. You didn't seem to listen, putting your feelings first and refusing to hear him out as he chased you down. He was fast - you were faster - darting across the road and narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as you stumbled to the sidewalk before continuing to run to your apartment.

It really was a good thing you hadn't moved in with him when he'd asked you to.

Changbin - He cheats while away for a weekend

Seungmin had sat you down, told you everything. He'd shown you pictures he'd taken on his phone because he knew you were -- God, you were wonderful. And that wasn't his own feelings for you talking.

You'd been so good to Changbin. You made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he had water, encouraged him to keep working on his music, his solos - choreography, etc. You'd done everything for him when he didn't have the energy to, visiting him during late nights and hugging him tight to tell him how wonderful he was and that he deserved the world.

Apparently, he grew a bit too cocky during their recent trip to Japan. Seungmin's pictures painted a portrait of your boyfriend with another woman in his lap, his face hidden by her hair as she sucked marks onto his skin that would disappear by the next morning.

You didn't confront him - didn't feed into it. You thanked Seungmin, left after patting his shoulder knowing it would likely be the last time you'd see him, and went home to move everything out of your shared apartment.

The next day, Changbin went on an indefinite hiatus.

Hyunjin - He cheats online

It started with the fucking instagram models.

Then he was messaging people, you find out. Contacting women he'd seen at fashion weeks or previous works with magazines. He'd asked them for photos, told them just how beautiful they were, and after looking through their profiles on your own, you'd felt like every ounce of self confidence you'd had was completely destroyed.

He'd only realized you'd found out when he came home from practice - no, 'practice.' - and found you sitting on the couch with tear stained cheeks and his phone in your hand. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind, so eager to meet up with the other woman in his contacts.

You'd packed all of his stuff, told him to get out, and he'd immediately started crying. You'd never seen him so devastated, kneeling at your feet to beg you forgiveness until you slapped him and shoved him back by the shoulders. He sat on the floor, stunned at your boldness to yell in his face that he was a liar - a cheater - and that he never loved you.

He'd sniffled, moving to get up and grab the bags you'd packed for him so he could leave. He stands in shame as he waits by your door while you seethe on the couch, silent, calling his new hookup to come get him. He couldn't call any of the members - they couldn't know about this. Not yet. The shame was eating him way.

Han - He cheats while on tour

He's in the USA when he texts you that he needs to break up. It's enough to break your heart, have you sobbing on the phone as you ask him over voice memo why he needs to break up with you now of all times. He was two weeks from being home in your arms - why now??

He'd chalked it up to just feeling distant, feeling as though you were neglecting him and his needs a bit while he was away.

Jeongin later reveals to you over a phone call that Jisung had hooked up with multiple women while they were gone over the months. He sounds broken as he relays the information to you, apologizing as you sob into the phone and saying how you never deserved any of it.

You were more angry than anything that Jisung had broken up with you in an attempt to cover up his own wrong-doings while also saying it was your fault.

Oh, but the twitter post you made the following day was enough to be near career-ruining for Jisung. And it was damn well enough to have him crawling back to you, blowing up your phone and begging you to delete the post. But it was already far too late for him by then.

Felix - He doesn't cheat on you because he's the most perfect sunshine angel baby on earth (I'm running out of ideas)

Seungmin - He cheats on you with someone you know

Your best friend - Well, ex-best friend - was the woman Seungmin had his eyes on. Not you.

He'd dated you to get closer to her, using you as a pawn in his little game until he was close enough. He would curl up next to you in the mornings, whispering soft goodbyes as he left for work before returning home late after he'd spent the evening in her bed.

You'd found out through another close friend who she had let the information slip to. Sleeping with an idol - definitely something to brag about.

He'd knocked on your door for nearly half an hour before you answered, threatening to hit him with a frying pan if he didn't leave. He was filled with confusion until you hissed out that you knew what he was doing. His eyes widened, puppy-like and scared after realizing you'd found out about his little scheme.

"Everyone is right about you! You're a fucking snake, Seungmin. You use people, you're full of fucking lies and bullshit! Do us all a favor and never date anyone again, you piece of dogshit!"

I.N - He cheats on you with a trainee

It's hard to stomach when you see it. He was so young when he entered the idol scene - How was he even doing it? Hooking up with a nineteen year old-- A girl who had just appeared at the JYPE building a few months ago.

She was set to debut in a new girl group - a pretty thing, tall and slim with long hair and a cutesy style. The ideal young woman for a girl group. And apparently he'd enjoyed her, too.

He isn't aware of your presence until you're stomping up behind him and shoving him by the shoulders, stumbling away to turn to you. He stops, breathing hitched and arm still around the girl's waist as she stands stunned.

You'd bit at him, yelling how he was full of shit when he'd said he'd never understand why 'I Like It' was a good song, how he'd never be able to imagine hooking up with people with no romantic intentions.

"You want to be with her then, right? You want to date her? If you really don't believe in just hooking up for fun, that must be the explanation."

He stutters, stumbling over his words as his eyes avert. "W-- ... Well..."

Your chest raised as you took in a breath, wanting to slap the man for his actions. Instead, you'd turned to leave, bumping into a very oblivious Chan on your way out. He'd stopped, asking what was wrong, before turning to peer over at Jeongin and the girl standing there, shame filling the two of them.

"Oh, mate..."

Permanent Tagist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersupriseee @possum-playground

[ascxlla]

SYLUS HEADCANONS

Synopsis. Just some headcanons of Sylus!

Pairing. Sylus x fem. Reader

Word Count. 452

A/N. This is my first work, enjoy!

Sylus is the kind of man who can't stand being away from you for too long. He's utterly obsessed, captivated by everything that makes you, you—your quirks, imperfections, and all the little things that set you apart. He treasures your scars, admires your smile, and finds beauty in every detail, no matter how small.

Public displays of affection? He's all about them. He loves making it clear to everyone that you're his, especially when someone tries to flirt with you. And when someone flirts with him? He’s quick to shut it down with a sassy remark and a steely glare—there’s no mistaking where his loyalties lie.

Sylus adores those late-night bike rides with you, where the two of you can escape into the night, exploring the world together. These moments are sacred to him, a chance for the two of you to escape into the quiet mystery of the night, leaving the rest of the world behind. With the cool night air brushing against your skin and the stars twinkling above. There’s something magical about those hours spent together, with nothing but the open road ahead and the sound of your laughter echoing in the night.

Spontaneity is another of Sylus's charms. He loves surprising you with sweet, unexpected kisses—whether it's a tender kiss on your lips, a soft peck on your forehead, or a gentle brush of his lips against your cheek. Each kiss is a reminder of his love, a small gesture that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you. It’s his way of saying, without words, that you are always on his mind.

When it comes to his feelings, Sylus is upfront—he wants you to know just how much you mean to him, how deeply he desires you. He's honest about his life, trusting you with the parts of himself he hides from the world. With you, he feels safe to be vulnerable, to reveal the layers of his soul that others never see.

And when it comes to making you happy, there’s nothing Sylus wouldn’t do. He is relentless in his pursuit of your happiness, going to great lengths to get you what you want, even if it means bending the rules a little. He takes pride in knowing that he can bring joy to your life.

Sylus can be moody, especially when it comes to you. He hates when you’re away for too long, his fear of losing you gnawing at him. Arguments with him are rare but intense, often leading to moments of silence where he withdraws, struggling with the emotions he’s not used to sharing. But over time, he’s slowly opening up, learning to trust you with the vulnerability he usually keeps hidden.

© ascxlla

[coff33andb00ks]

world around us

summary: you're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night word count: 1k pairing: lando norris x oscar piastri x driver!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff, slightly suggestive language(?) a.n.: final installation of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLI MY LOVE!!! playlist: completely unhinged songs that fit the vibe

"No no no no no no no! You can't do that! You fuckin' muppet!"

Oscar mirrors your eye roll as Lando protests you placing a house on one of your properties. "She owns it though?" he says tentatively.

Lando scoffs, snatching up the guide and snapping it open. "The rules say–"

"I refuse to follow rules when you rolled twice so you wouldn't go to jail," you say with a huff, snatching the guide from him.

"I had to! One of the dice landed on the floor!"

"Oh but when we play golf I have to play no matter where my ball lands?"

"Yes." Lando gives you a look of disbelief, as though the idea of breaking a golfing rule is akin to murder. "It's not my fault you can't hit a ball straight."

"Just for that–" You slap more brightly colored money in front of Oscar - Oscar has to be the banker he's the most honest one among us - and grab a hotel to replace the house. "Suffer."

Lando groans, throwing up his hands. "You're cheating. I hate games night."

Oscar's grin shifts and he begins to chuckle. "We could play Trivial Pursuit?"

"No," Lando whines, picking up the dice to take his turn. "That game makes me feel stupid."

"Uno?" you suggest sweetly.

"No, we'll finish this. Capitalism is good to me, I'll make a comeback." Lando nods to himself as he shakes the dice. "Just shut up so I can focus."

And then, twenty minutes later–

"What d'you mean I owe you double the rent?!"

The rules are checked - well this is fucking bullshit - and he counts out all of his money to pay up. Suddenly capitalism sucks and he's clinging to his one property block and his cash like they're his lifeline.

You'll never know how (he probably cheated) but he wins. Monopoly money rains down as he celebrates and you fall back with laughter when Oscar flips the board in disgust.

You love games night. The silly playlist Lando put together plays, Disney movies play, muted, on the tv, and you've got them.

Lando and Oscar. Your biggest rivals on the track and your closest friends off. You're celebrating Oscar's first win this week now that summer break is here, enjoying the lazy days before you each take off in different directions to visit family and recuperate from an exhausting first half of the season.

"Loser cleans up," you remind Oscar and he groans as he gives you a kiss then begins picking up the mess. Lando's singing along to the latest country song he's obsessed with - Is it your heart or mine? Is it whiskey or wine? Is it somethin' in the night Makin' us wanna cross that line? - and he follows you into the kitchen to get more drinks.

"You sure you don't want to come along with me?" he asks, reaching around you to get a beer from the fridge.

"Let me see... Golfing with a bunch of men versus beach time with my best friends…" You hum thoughtfully, squealing when loops an arm around you.

"That can't be right. Me and Osco are your best friends," he says.

"Let me rephrase. Best women friends."

He's holding you close, swaying a little to the song playing - you think Oscar's the one who added ABBA, or maybe it was you - and you smile a little as you sway with him. He hums songs without realizing it and it's one of his more endearing habits.

"But I'll miss you," he murmurs, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you too." And you will. This season you've grown closer to him. Literally, considering he finally talked you - and Oscar - into moving to Monaco. But also figuratively. You're just as rough on yourself as he is on himself, and with all the macho bravado that surrounds you every race week, it's nice to have someone who understands your being upset over missing out on a podium due to your own failings as a driver, your miscommunication with the team. It's rarer to have someone who understands shouldering the blame of the team's missteps – if I was better at this, they would trust my judgment but I'm not so they don't and that means—

"Not getting sappy on me are you?" Lando teases.

"You started it," you mutter. Turning, you wrap your arms around him. "We can live a few weeks without each other."

"I mean… You'll text right? Call?" he asks softly.

"FaceTime too," you promise.

It's tentative and new and so fucking scary but he gives you a soft kiss. Not your first with him, but it still makes your heart do that weird little flutter that it's only ever done with one other person.

"Jenga?" Oscar calls from the living room and Lando perks up instantly, nearly knocking you down in his haste to get back to the only other person he's going to miss during break.

Jenga with your boys is impossible. They're too competitive, know too many things they can say that make the other break and send the blocks flying.

"Oh of course he's going for the bottom, man loves to be at the bottom," Oscar mutters to you and Lando's giggling, covering his face with his hands as the tower collapses.

The games are abandoned, and you're squished on the couch between them, Oscar's lips on your ear, Lando's head on your stomach as the three of you, tipsy and relaxed, begin making plans for the last days of break while a Studio Ghibli movie plays. It's not said by either of you, but you already know that the three of you will find each other long before the break is over.

The world is easier to bear when it's the three of you together. It's still new, still tentative, still scary as hell, but it feels oh so right.

[crappymixtape]

stand on my own

after months of begging, steve finally takes you home to meet his parents – you've been together for over a year and he doesn't talk about them much, but once you meet them you begin to understand why *18+ only | ( 3K words – TW: verbal abuse, almost physical abuse, both from steve's dad – angst, hurt / comfort, sprinkle of fluff, est. relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

S T A N D O N M Y O W N 🎶 stupid 4 u, dizzy

When you pulled into the Harrington’s driveway, your mouth dropped open at the sheer size of the house. Three times the size of yours growing up with a brand new Porsche parked out front. Steve always told you his dad was materialistic, but he hadn’t said anything about how materialistic or how much someone would have to make to drive a car like that.

Robin had warned you, told you the Harringtons were the pinnacle of Hawkins, Indiana, but if you didn’t grow up with that last name in your mouth, you’d have no idea. No idea of the legacy the Harringtons built after producing generation after generation of lawyers, and why would you? Hawkins was a tiny dot on the map compared to Indianapolis.

You’d moved away from the city in pursuit of a softer life, roomed with Robin Buckley after you’d both been accepted at the local community college and met her best friend – most platonic boyfriend, Steve – on your first night there at a party. He had been standing shoulder-to-shoulder drinking a beer with another guy, Eddie Munson, and both had grease stains all over their pants. In another world, you might have found it a turn-off, but when he caught your eye from across the room you knew you were done for.

Long locks of hair fell into his eyes, his thick lashes sweeping across high cheekbones when he blinked, and the most perfect, pink lips that tugged up at the corner in a grin, grinning at you. High school basketball superstar turned mechanic after getting denied by Indiana State, and damn, it looked good on him.

The day after the party, your car broke down just outside of town, and he came to pick you up in the tow truck with grease-smudged hands and a towel hanging out of the back pocket of his Carhartts. You talked the whole way back to the garage, told him about growing up in the city and how it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He told you how his favorite thing about Hawkins was the way the sky lit up in the summer right as the sun went down, set to flames as it crept beneath the horizon and you asked him if he’d show you sometime. When you got to the shop he told you he’d personally make sure your car was put back in tip-top shape and then took you for the best milkshake of your life at the diner afterward.

Eddie’s uncle Wayne owned the shop, simply called Munson’s, and had been running it since his old man died back in the 50s. It was the most trusted mechanic south of the city and while it wasn’t glamorous, it was honest work, and Steve liked the people. They were thankful for his help and paid him enough to make a decent living, and there was something about working with his hands that gave Steve a sense of gratification and pride he’d never experienced before. Not stuck behind some desk 9-5 like his dad. He didn’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars or live in a mini-mansion, and even though all that wasn’t important to Steve, it still didn’t make him feel any better as he rumbled into his parents’ driveway.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as he shifted the truck into park. Running his hands through his hair, he let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel, his nerves palpable from the passenger seat. “I really don’t want to go in there.”

“You’re not going alone, if that’s any consolation?” you offered, gently teasing, rubbing a hand over the soft fabric of the only clean, white t-shirt he owned.

He gave you a lopsided smile and turned the truck off, “That helps a lot.”

“Good.”

The light on the porch flicked on, and it drew Steve’s attention like the snap of a whip.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed as the front door opened to reveal the portrait of a perfect housewife, Carol Harrington.

“Hi, honey!” she called with a wave, gesturing you to get out of the truck and Steve huffed a heavy sigh.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, expression tinged with dread. With one last glance over at you, he moved to open his door, “Listen, if my dad says anything, I can’t promise I won’t say something back.”

“That makes two of us,” you half-joked, but Steve knew by the look in your eye you were serious. If there was anything you didn’t tolerate, it was demeaning people, and from what Robin said, Gary Harrington had used Steve as his verbal punching bag for most of his life.

You watched as Steve tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat as he pushed himself off the truck bench and out onto the driveway.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I hope you came hungry!” Carol said, wiping her hands on the red, checkered apron tied around her waist. “I made a casserole, a fresh green salad, and those rolls you like so much.”

“Oh–you didn’t have to do all that,” Steve insisted as he met his mom on the steps, his cheeks growing pink under the warm glow of the porch light.

“Of course I did.” Carol pulled her son into a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And who is this?” she smiled, turning her attention to you, big, blue eyes appraising, trying to decide if you were good enough for her Stevie.

You returned the smile, introducing yourself as Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his Levis, anxious. The weight of her gaze was heavy and for a minute it shook you, but you doubled down. No one was going to push you around.

“Thank you for having us,” you said genuinely and a pleased look passed over her features.

“Yes, it’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve been asking Stevie to come to dinner for months now. How’d you convince him?”

“Mom.”

“Okay,” she put her hands up in surrender. “Here, let’s get you two out of the cold. Come in, come in.”

If the outside manicured lawn and award-winning flowerbeds were perfection, then the inside had to have been crafted by God himself.

Every surface was spotless, decorated exquisitely with things you’d only seen in a catalog. Large, smooth, eggshell vases full of bare branches arranged just so, portraits of sweeping landscapes framed in gold and glass candy dishes sat atop polished, mahogany credenzas. As you took it all in, you noticed there were no photos of the family, and in that moment it all felt so empty. Staged and not properly lived in.

“Please, sit! What can I get you to drink?” Carol’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you glanced over to see her holding two bottles of wine. “I’ve got a chilled rosé or a bold red, can’t make a bad choice.”

“Thank you, but water’s fine,” you insisted and a grumble from the head of the dining room table pulled your attention.

Sitting in one of the lavishly, upholstered, high-backed chairs, Steve’s father met your gaze over the top of the newspaper he held in his hands. Folding it up, he set it neatly on the table top and folded his arms over chest, not appraising like Carol. No. This was judgement, cold and severe.

“Not a drinker, hm?” he drawled and you felt Steve tense at your side.

“One of us needs to be responsible,” you quipped back, half-joking and taking Steve’s hand in yours. It’s okay.

The older man snorted in reply and took up the tumbler of scotch at the side of his table setting. Before you could reply, Carol jumped in in an attempt to settle the already blooming tension.

“So, what do you do, dear? Stevie tells us you’re in school!” she asked, setting a hot casserole at the center of the table.

“Oh,” fell out, clumsy as the attention fully focused on you, “I’m uh–I’m pursuing a degree in the arts.”

“The arts! How wonderful!” Carol gushed, returning from the kitchen with a basket of rolls and glass, bowl of salad. “Literature or teaching? Some noble profession surely,” she said, tone oozing and saccharine sweet.

“Ceramics,” you replied tensely, wanting to be embarrassed, but refusing to give them the satisfaction. “I’m actually hoping to open my own studio someday.”

You’d barely finished your sentence when your ears caught Gary mumbling something about hippies and Steve’s mouth firmed into a flat line.

“Dad.”

“What?” Gary snipped back, taking another drink of his scotch as Carol pushed you both into your chairs. “It’s not a very common profession to get into. How’d you find it anyway?” Gary asked, feigning interest, but you could hear the skepticism.

Sitting a bit taller in your chair you leaned forward, chin tilted up in confidence, You can’t scare me.

“I’m originally from Indianapolis, but I came out here looking for something a little…slower. It’s a bit too busy up there for me. Mom was hoping I’d follow in her footsteps up there as a doctor, but–”

“Now see, that’s real work!” Gary said, leaning forward to match you. He shook his head, clicking his tongue at you. “Throwing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity away.”

“Dad!” Steve protested again from his chair next to you, the tension pulling taut in the air.

“Gary,” Carol cut in, eyes on her plate and not meeting the look her husband was giving her. “That’s enough. I’m sure she has good reason.“ Taking the serving spoon she started to dish everyone up. “How’s work going for you, Stevie?”

A heavy sigh pushed itself from Steve’s lungs and he closed his eyes for a minute. You could tell he was uncomfortable and for a minute you regretted making him do this. Taking his hand under the table you squeezed, reassuring, and he opened his eyes again to look at you in silent thanks.

“Uh…yeah,” he started, regaining his composure. “It’s good. Eddie and I are pretty busy right now. Wayne’s showing me how to do the books, actually.”

“Oh! Well, that’s wonderful!” Carol said with a comforting smile as she dished up her husband. “Isn’t that wonderful, Gary?”

“Wonderful isn’t the word I’d choose,” Gary sneered and Carol elbowed his shoulder.

“Behave,” she tutted.

“Actually, Wayne says he’s gonna retire soon,” Steve said sitting up a little taller and your stomach flipped over.

You’d talked on the way over about not sharing any of the news about the shop with them. Promised you wouldn’t say a word about it because it would only make things worse, but you watched now as Steve put it all on the table. Brave. Confident. Proud.

A vein bulged in the middle of Gary’s forehead.

“He’s leaving it to Eddie and–well, Eddie asked if I want to be his business partner. I haven’t signed the paperwork yet, but I’m going to. I want to. I think it’ll be good for–

“Absolutely not! Over my dead body,” Gary slammed a hand flat against the table and you flinched at the force of it, silverware clattering metallically against the fine china.

“It’s a good business, Dad, with a solid client list,” Steve pushed, “I make more than enough to–”

“You think you can convince me?” Gary growled, a sardonic smile twisting across his lips. “You wanna end up like the Munsons? Living like trailer trash?” The smile disappeared. “Jesus Steven, you’ve got a family business right here — your legacy — and you’re shitting all over it! For what? Some filthy garage?”

Carol’s face was as white as a sheet as Gary dug in and she put a hand on his shoulder, “Gary, please–”

“No, Carol. I’m not done,” he shrugged her off and stood from his chair. “That family has done nothing but produce a long line of losers,” he said, pointing a finger off out the dining room window toward Forest Hills. “Edward’s father was a drunk and that kid is one disaster away from drinking what little money he has. I mean, look at him! He’s always high, driving around town in that piece of shit van with hair down to his ass and–”

“Shut up!”

Steve stood up then and slapped the palms of his hands against the table, making you flinch again, your heart leaping into your throat as you watched him glare at his father, flushed and red from his neck to his ears, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Stevie–” Carol pleaded, but he ignored her.

“God, I’m so tired of it,” Steve roughed his hands over his face, flinging an arm in the same direction his father had. Toward Eddie, his partner, his best friend. “The Munsons work really hard! And they’re honest, which can’t be said for you,” he pushed, Gary’s face twisting ugly as Steve laid into him. “Lying and cheating people for what, huh? For money? For a Porche?”

“You watch your mouth,” Gary said a little too evenly and unease settled in your stomach.

“No. I’m not gonna sit here and let you lecture me about something you know nothing about. When was the last time you really felt proud, Dad? Like you accomplished something?”

“Every day!” Gary snapped, “When I sit at my desk and look at the framed degree on my wall because I did something with my life, Steven!” He pushed his chair out behind him and took a half step around the table toward his son. “I’ve become someone and made a name for myself! I support my wife because I’m a man,” he emphasized his point with a finger to Steve’s chest and you watched as Steve’s body grew stiff, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Yeah, well based on the flashy sports car in the driveway I’d say you’re compensating.”

“That’s enough!”

Gary stepped into Steve, Steve’s back bumping into the wall and it pulled you up from your seat while Carol shrunk into hers, head buried in her hands.

“You ungrateful little shit,” Gary spat, “You’re being handed an opportunity on a silver platter and spitting on it. How dare you—”

“No, dad! How dare you?” Steve shoved a hand flat into his dad’s chest and the older man stumbled back a step. “I bring home the most important person in my life to meet you, and you can’t even keep it together for more than five minutes! It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassing. Let’s go.”

Steve grabbed your hand and started to pull you toward the door, food untouched on the table, but Gary took a half-step into your path of escape.

“You’ll stay until you apologize,” he growled.

Steve laughed incredulously. “Apologize? For what? For telling you what we already know? That you’re a selfish asshole?”

“What did I say about language?” Gary returned the shove Steve had given him, but Steve didn’t move.

“Honey, stop. Please,” Carol begged her husband from the table, but her pleas were ignored.

“My entire life, all you’ve been is gone," Steve leveled. "You were never there for me, especially when I needed you the most, and, honestly? I don’t care what you think, Dad. Not anymore.” Steve pushed himself to his full height, at least a full two inches taller than his father, and shouldered past him, “We’re out of here.”

“Stevie, sweetheart don’t go,” Carol finally stood from her chair, coming around to paw at Steve’s back. “You know how he gets, he just needs to walk it off—“

“—stop making excuses for him, mom. He doesn’t deserve it and you deserve better.”

Carol kept grabbing at him and it made something snap inside you.

“Don’t touch him,” you said firmly, pressing a hand into hers and tugging it away from Steve. The look on her face then was like you’d slapped her and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest, but Gary made sure to fix that, his voice at your backs.

“If you leave, that’s it, Steven! Game over!” he shouted.

“I don’t want it, Dad.”

“I’m serious! One more step and you’re written out of the company!” Gary said just as you both reached the door, Steve’s hand on the handle as he spun around to make sure he made eye contact with his dad.

“Where’s the paper? I’ll write it myself!” Steve snapped and for the first time that evening Gary was rendered speechless, mouth dropped open in shock. “If you break down, don’t call me.”

Pride swelled in your chest and you had to keep from whooping and hollering right there in the foyer, but as soon as you both were safely on the other side of the thick, wooden, double doors you flung your arms around him.

“Holy shit, babe,” you breathed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the warm, citrusy scent of his cologne setting you at ease as his arms squeezed at your waist. Pulling away, you clasped his face between your hands. “First? I’m so sorry,” you said, shaking your head, running your thumb gently over his cheek, “And second? You were amazing in there, standing up for yourself.”

Steve turned a deep shade of pink, clearing his throat as his eyes dropped down to look at his shoes. “No way, that was awful.”

“It was,” you agreed, leading him slowly back to the truck, “But I’ve never seen you defend yourself, your hard work, like that. It’s not something to disregard.”

“You think so?” he asked the steering wheel after settling onto the bench seat next to you, the truck rumbling to life when he turned the key over.

Lifting a hand to the strong line of his jaw you gently turned his head to look at you.

“I know so,” you said softly, “And I love you and the way you take care of me, so damn much.”

His lashes fluttered, blinking away the starts of his tears, and smiled through it. No one had ever stood by his side the way you had just now. Had pushed through all the bullshit from his family and didn't shy away from it all. It meant more to him than he could ever put into words, so he settled for the truth.

“I love you too," he said, leaning into you with a hand pressed to your thigh and holding your cheek in his other. “I love you,” he said again, a soft whisper as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” another to your cheek. “I love you,” his mouth meeting the corner of yours. “I love you,” his bottom lip catching yours perfectly, sweetly, “I love you.”

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[astrolovecosmos]

*Venus Natal Aspect Snippets*

*Sun can only semi-sextile, semi-square, or conjunct Venus. Moon Trine Venus: Likely very social, is open to new relationships, and is a cooperative individual. Can be highly creative, may be a little vain, and is likely very romantic. Can be overindulgent, may not be good at emotionally handling pressure or conflict, and can be driven to people pleasing tendencies due to their need for connection or a fear of loneliness. This aspect is known for being favorable in making close bonds or with romance.

Moon Opposite Venus: Might find themselves in relationships where they feel torn between wanting emotional closeness and needing personal space. Can lack confidence in themselves romantically or within relationships. Can struggle with dependency or co-dependency. Can be a sensitive, understanding, and welcoming person despite this aspect's challenges.

Moon Square Venus: May be hot and cold in their relationships. Can struggle with stability or balance in their relationships and emotional world. Can struggle with self-discipline or give into escapism often. May run away from conflict. Can be good at channeling their frustrations into art. Can be good at giving advice but tends to not follow their own wisdom.

Mercury Trine Venus: A great aspect for diplomacy, negotiation, and forming connections through meaningful conversations. Be careful of underestimating others, loose lips, and relying too much on persuasion. *venus can't oppose or square mercury in a natal chart

Venus Opposite Mars: Conflicting feelings, thoughts, and energies in your attraction and desires. Need to focus on what matters most to you in others and relationships.

Venus Square Mars: The friction between Mars's energy and Venus's harmony can result in romantic conflicts, impulsiveness, or difficulty finding balance between assertion and affection. Focus on what makes both you and your loved one's happy together.

Venus Trine Mars: This aspect often means chemistry and creativity in romantic and collaborative endeavors. Be careful of assuming others are on your level for love and passion until you know them more. Other's may also be intimidated or jealous of your confidence or self-acceptance.

Venus Opposite Jupiter: There might be a struggle between expansion and moderation. You could feel drawn toward indulgence, extravagance, or over-optimism, taking risks in relationships or security. But you may also equally fear taking big risks in your relationships. It's a challenge to balance pleasure with restraint.

Venus Square Jupiter: May have unrealistic expectations of their loved ones or relationships, things can get messy in their relationships FAST, doesn't know when to stop. Needs to be highly mindful of their desires and behavior. Expand with a plan.

Venus Trine Jupiter: Known to be a beneficial aspect for social interactions, attracting opportunities, and fostering good fortune in love and financial matters. A "good luck" type of placement in the chart. Be careful about being overly generous to where others take advantage of you. You may also have a foolhardy side in relationships somehow. Don't let things get to your head in relationships.

Venus Opposite Saturn: It can be difficult to express romantic feelings and accept love, gratitude, or generosity. Can easily feel lonely, isolated, or negative in their relationships. May need more reassurance than they are willing to admit.

Venus Square Saturn: May have challenges in establishing stability and commitment in relationships. Saturn's restraint and seriousness can clash with Venus's desire for warmth and affection. This square makes it hard to fulfill emotional needs in relationships. Expressing wants and needs more is vital.

Venus Trine Saturn: Encourages a realistic approach to love, with a focus on long-term goals and responsible choices. It's beneficial for building enduring relationships and finding structure in creative or financial pursuits. Not being honest with oneself and/or falling into being around those who do not share your values or goals can be a challenge.

Venus Opposite Uranus: Uranus is the planet of sudden changes, which can disrupt the harmony Venus seeks. Relationships might experience sudden upheavals, or you might feel restless and desire more freedom often. It's important to find lovers, friends, and family who support your need for space, learning, and/or change.

Venus Square Uranus: Emotional closeness can be hard. Always finds themselves falling in and out of love or fascination. Inner and outer stability vs. instability is a common battle that needs to be fought.

Venus Trine Uranus: This aspect often leads to unexpected yet positive developments in relationships. This aspect may bless someone with an unpredictable, exciting, and different kind of love life. Can promote a lot of independence as well. May struggle with their more predictable, traditional, or cautious loved ones. Could have a complicated relationship with open-mindedness and acceptance among their loved ones.

Venus Opposite Neptune: Reality and fantasy can clash and cause frustrations in your relationships. Be careful of putting others on pedestal.

Venus Square Neptune: May run into unrealistic expectations, deception, or disappointment in relationships. Being more realistic and grounded in your relationships may be needed.

Venus Trine Neptune: Creates a dreamy, romantic energy. It can enhance creativity, intuition, and empathy in relationships. It's an excellent aspect for artistic pursuits, spirituality, and finding beauty. This placement can still struggle with illusions and manipulation like many other Neptune placements.

Venus Opposite Pluto: There can be intense emotional power struggles in relationships. There can also be profound transformations or challenges in many of your relationships that lead to empowerment and self-mastery.

Venus Square Pluto: Associated with control, power dynamics, jealousy, and possessiveness in relationships. Needs to learn to manage their own intensity when it gets out of control or unhealthy. Or may need to learn how to listen to themselves more in relationships, follow their intuition/heart.

Venus Trine Pluto: Intense and passionate in their relationships but in a way that is magnetic, sexy, and maybe commanding. It's a great aspect for deepening intimacy and fostering meaningful growth in relationships. But those with this placement can become unchanging or controlling in their relationships too. Their attachments may usually be harmonious or loving but they can also be extremely strong.

[peachsukii]

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

[lilipens]

✧. HEART IN A CUP.

Synopsis: To ensure the taste is perfect, you're invited to a tea party by Riddle himself—though, there is more than meets the eye.

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings / Genre: None ^_^ It’s implied Riddle has romantic interest, so it’s kinda fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: aaaaaa late post,,, partially rushed because i lost track of time but enjoy anyways and belated happy new year to all!!!

Order. Precision. Routine. These are cornerstones of Riddle’s world. An uptight schedule governs every hour, every minute, ensuring nothing is out of place. There is no room for error, no time to waste. Nevertheless, you’ve somehow managed to slip through that perfect system. He doesn’t know how, but here he is, settling aside his meticulous plans to make time for you. Not that he’d admit it aloud.

Placing the teapot down carefully, he makes sure it aligns just right with the table’s edge. It must be exactly measured as it is a step in a well-practiced routine. His focus is keen, but something feels different today. A subtle tension sits in his shoulders, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying so hard to maintain. You don’t comment on it; regardless, you can’t help but notice him peeking at you now and then.

“I trust you’ll provide an honest critique,” Riddle speaks out quickly—fairly rushed. “Your input is valuable—essential, even; not because it’s yours, of course, but because improvement demands impartial feedback.” This tea-tasting is no ordinary event, even though he’s done it countless times before. This one feels personal.

You bite back a smile. The way he’s trying so hard to sound detached is almost endearing, although you know better. There’s nothing impartial about the way he keeps glancing at you, as if gauging your every reaction.  

Riddle may hold his routine in high regard, but he’s still human, and no amount of perfectionism can mask the little cracks in his armor.

With his fingers now gently adjusting the teapot once more, he refocuses on the task at hand. The sound of liquid pouring into the cup fills the silence between you. When you lift your lips, you can still see how palpable his stare is. Riddle’s breath hitches slightly. "How is it?" he blurts out, breaking the quiet with an edge of urgency. "The balance of flavors—does it meet expectations?"

Your lips curve into a soft smile as you take another sip. The tea, for what it’s worth, is lovely. The light sweetness blooms on your tongue, a delicate balance of flavors that speaks to the careful thought he’s put into it. "It’s wonderful. The taste isn’t overpowering, and it’s not too sweet... Did you add something special?"

Riddle straightens in his seat, a flicker of pride crossing his face despite his effort to keep it neutral. He clasps his hands together in his lap, the rigid posture a reflection of the precision with which he approaches every task. "Naturally," he responds proudly, as though each word has been chosen with the utmost care. "Every blend must be unique. Heartslabyul prides itself on its exacting standards, and I made adjustments to ensure it met them."

What he doesn’t say is how many late hours he spent poring over recipe books and testing proportions, how even his own peers had begun to comment on his unusual fixation. He rationalizes it to himself, convinced this is merely an extension of his relentless pursuit of perfection. Yet, deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

When you set the cup back on its saucer in satisfaction, Riddle feels an uncharacteristic wave of relief. He glances away, feigning interest in the napkin folded neatly by his plate, smoothing its already straight edges. “However, I am glad you approve,” he adds softly.

You observe him closely, noticing his cautiously maintained disposition start to falter a bit. A fleeting vulnerability shows as his hands fidget in his lap, giving way to the nerves he’s suppressing. He’s done so much for this moment, yet it’s as though he fears it’s still not enough. You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table as you meet his eyes.

“You know,” you start gently, “not everything has to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s okay to let things just... be.”

The words leave your mouth without much thought, but you can see how they settle into him. He freezes, his fingers clutching the teacup so tightly that you almost fear it might shatter. "Let things just be?" he repeats in a louder pitch, face slowly burning vivid red, before abruptly cutting off. He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose as he tries to gather himself, to rein in whatever frustration is bubbling beneath the surface.

"Do you have any idea how—" He stops himself mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly as he realizes his tone has become far too harsh. A deep breath. Then another. He visibly forces his frustration down, his face flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "Forgive me," he apologizes stiffly, somewhat coming out restrained. "That was uncalled for."

For a second, you’re taken aback by the sudden outburst. There’s a tendency for Riddle to lose his composure in such a way, but witnessing it firsthand catches you off guard. As you watch him, you see the way his body tenses up again and his hands clench, you realize that he’s not angry at you—he’s angry at himself. The heaviness of his unyielding expectations presses on him. It’s the fear of not being enough, of not meeting the impossibly high standards he’s set for himself.

“It’s okay,” you reassure, offering an understanding smile. "I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I want you to know that you don’t always have to try so hard." It’s how you say it that’s so simple, but they seem to cut through the tension like a knife. Riddle’s gaze softens ever so slightly, as if he’s allowing himself to let go of the tight grip he’s always kept on everything. He doesn’t respond right away, and you catch a glimpse of something deeper—something he rarely lets anyone see.

You don't push him further; instead, you sit quietly, allowing the moment to settle around you. 

Soft ticking from the clock seems louder than usual, accompanied by gentle rustling of wind outside, branches tapping lightly against the windowpane. A faint scent of tea lingers in the air, mixing with the tranquility around you. The space feels alive with stillness—your breathing, his, the distant hum of life beyond the room—all blending into a peaceful harmony that Riddle isn’t used to. His shoulders relax slightly, though the tension remains in the way he holds his cup, his posture rigid, as though still caught between a desire for order and the acceptance of the present.

Riddle holds his teacup delicately, feeling the warmth seep into his palms. He doesn’t move right away, as if holding the cup has become more of an action than part of his carefully planned routine. His gaze shifts toward you again, but this time, it carries no urgency, only quiet curiosity, as if he's trying to understand something new. His brow furrows slightly, lips pressed together as if grappling with a thought that refuses to come to the surface.

“You know,” he says after a long halt, “I’ve always been so absorbed in my routine that I never really stopped to consider... how others might see things.” He hesitates, his brow furrowing. “I never saw much point in it. Everything had to be exactly where it should be. But now, I think there’s more to it.” His eyes briefly flicker to the teapot, but this time, there’s no urge to adjust it, no need to measure the space between the spout and the edge of the table. He simply lets it be.

You watch him, your smile warm, eyes following the subtle shift in his demeanor. There’s vulnerability in him now, a crack in his polished shell that makes him seem more... human. Despite how small the step seems, you know it’s significant. This isn’t just about a teapot or a cup of tea—it’s about him allowing himself to exist without fearing that even the smallest slip will ruin everything. It feels like the most genuine connection you’ve shared.

“I guess I could stand to be a little more lenient sometimes,” he considers, somewhat willingly, though the thought alone makes his stomach twist. Disorder was something he had always worked to prevent, a disruption he could never fully tolerate. Change had never been Riddle’s strongest suit—acknowledging it was one thing, but acting on it was another entirely. Yet, he must understand that not everyone sees the world as he does.

Unable to resist, you tease him with a playful smile. “A little more lenient? I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m sure your teapot has been perfectly positioned for the next hour, hasn’t it?”

Riddle freezes for a split second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “I... I can’t help it if I like things in order,” he stammers, attempting to cover his flustered expression with clearing his throat. You almost laugh, but the sight of him—the way his usual demeanor forfeits—makes you pause. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so unguarded, like he’s letting someone inside without the usual barricades.

Leaning forward slightly, you smirk. “It’s alright, Riddle. I think I’ll enjoy watching you try to let go of some of those... habits.”

A sigh escapes him, this time more in resignation. “I suppose... one could attempt to be a bit more flexible.” His tone softens, though there’s a subtle strain to it, as though admitting this is a minor yet monumental step for him. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his words hang in the air between you, carrying a hint of vulnerability you never thought he’d show.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips. “Good. You’ll get there eventually.”

Crossing your legs on the chair, you watch as he fiddles with his cup again, a slight tremor in his fingers as he tries to regain his cool. There’s something strangely comforting in the way he does it—like a part of him is still holding on, not quite ready to let go of his habits. The tension remains, but it’s less oppressive now. For once, he isn’t rushing to make everything perfect. In lieu, it feels like he’s taking his time, just a little.

Riddle looks at you again, though his hands still move with a touch more uncertainty. "I don't know how long I'll last," he mutters, half to himself. "But I'll try."

“Good enough for me,” you retort with a wink, glad to see a crack in his carefully constructed walls. "I’ll hold you to it." 

Although Riddle is still not entirely comfortable, there’s a tiny shift in him. He seems to settle into the gentleness of the atmosphere. The weight of the day’s tension slips away, even if just for now. The room no longer feels like a battleground for control—it feels like a place where two people can exist without expectations, without the need for everything to be perfect.

When he speaks again, his voice is grounded with the faintest trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Next time, we’ll see how well I manage…. without the rules.”

“Next time?” You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re not throwing out your schedule just yet, huh?”

Riddle’s lips twitch. "One step at a time, of course."

He turns his attention to you, and something shifts in his eyes—like he’s sharing a secret. Then, realizing how rare this is, he looks away quickly. His equanimity returns, though not as fierce as before. It’s better now. More honest.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll manage,” he guarantees, less forced.

You lean back in your chair, the contentment of seeing him take that first step settling in your chest. "I think I’d like to see you try."

At last, it feels like time is finally on both of your sides. The rigidness that once controlled begins to fade, and regardless of the fact you don't expect an overnight change, you sense more serenity. For the first time, Riddle seems to be easing up. And you'll be here to witness it.

© lilipens

[wilwheaton]

Clearly, political strategists don’t need traditional media as much as they once did. And the media have richly earned this drop in status. Too many political journalists are marinating in the Washington cocktail culture, writing for each other and for their sources – in service to the political industry, not the public. They’ve lost touch with their audiences, especially the audiences they’ll need in the future. A recent survey found that 78% of Americans age 65 or older get most political and election news from journalists and news organizations. But that figure drops to 55% for people ages 30-49 and to 45% for those 18-29.

Mainstream media on a path to irrelevance

The same people who brought us the Iraq war and the Trump presidency are just SO CoNfUsEd that voters have little to no faith in their work, or respect for them.

Legacy media did this to itself. It let Trump infect its objectivity and commitment to the truth, and everything Trump touches dies.

The journalists (sic) who are complaining the loudest are the ones who most need to give their degrees back, and then get out of the way for a new generation of reporters who are more committed to telling the truth than they are in attending the fanciest cocktail parties.

Why in the world would Kamala Harris waste any time with Lester Holt, who is going to use right wing frames, talking points, and false equivalencies in pursuit of a gotcha moment, when she can spend that same time telling voters directly how she will govern, without him and his bullshit wasting her time?

If journalists consistently did journalism, none of this would be happening, and contrary to what you may think after reading this, I don’t think it’s great. I think we desperately need a strong, reliable, objective, honest, fearless, national press that informs people. We need journalists who aren’t afraid to risk access and cocktail party invites in pursuit of an important story.

It’s not like they don’t know how, it’s that they choose not to. This is just the natural consequences of their actions.

[dondeeee911]

Why did your FS choose you? 

why did you 🥹?

1> green envelope 2> red envelope 3> pink envelope

Pile 1

Your FS chose you because they immediately felt enmeshed with you, a mirrored soul😳! It was the timing, place, and people, oh so perfect! Meeting you utterly amazed them; you two just clicked! A feeling of nostalgia and euphoric sensations. Nothing felt forced, it was the ease that drew them closer to you. A hopeful feeling, there was no doubt, they just knew! “She’s the one!” Maybe it was the gaze at one another, the locking of the eyes that set the tone between you two or it was the way you both conversed “ Oh wow, I was just about to say that!” literally getting lost in one another, you gave them depth and intense feelings. They may have felt insecure and yet never felt so sure. "This isn’t the end of us ...".🤞🏽

Pile 2

 They admire your commitment and loyalty to your pursuits and the people in your life. You inspired them to want to make efforts that would strengthen their current bonds and commitments🥰. Without you, your passion, and resilience they would have lacked community, growth, and inspiration. Not only are you their true love, but you are also a true and honest friend. Your person chose you because you didn’t give up on them easily, the bond they share with you is. indescribable ,you’ve excepted the most flawed parts of their life. Your presence was always felt and reassured them of love and comfort. When their “friends” weren’t there for them you were and they will forever be thankful for that. A TRUE ride or die! 🫶🏽

Pile 3

You were just so different, LITTERALY! They’ve never come across someone like you. Perhaps they realized the grass wasn’t greener on the other side when it came to their normal type. They chose you because they wanted to love someone other than themselves, someone not like them. You two share nothing in common but they didn’t care! They loved the way you made them feel, it was always about the energy between you two. Your person fell in love with your energy and that was just enough for them, nothing else mattered. They can’t be without you and would rather leave the world behind and get lost in you🥹. My dear, you are just so intriguing to them.✨

Copyright © 2024 dondeeee911. All rights reserved.

[justwinginglife]

Masterlist

20's, She/Her

Full time slave to the work force, part time writer, FULL TIME HOSHINA SIMP

I will write almost anything, just don't do gore or nonconsensual sex.

Frequenter of the @pixelcafe-network

Donate if you'd like

Masterlist #2 (Other Characters)

Masterlist # 3 (Soshiro Smut)

Masterlist #4 (Soshiro Misc)

DECEMBER EVENT MASTERLIST

Angst Smut Fluff Other

*author's favorites

Soshiro Hoshina

-Make A Wish

-Blind In Love *

-Wrapped Around Your Finger *

-Uncross The Stars

-Destiny Written In The Stars

-Of All The Ways To Die

-Evidence Of His Love

-In Pursuit

-High Score

-Red Alert

-The Best Of My Life

-The Waiting Game

-Because I Love You, Because I Still Love You,

Because I'll Always Love You

-Loud Love

-The Hardest Thing Of All- Living

-A Case Of The Butterflies *

-The Best Plans

-Thicker Than Blood Ft. Gen Narumi*, Part 2, Part 2.5

-Heaven

-Fire & Ice (part 2 in progress)

-Honest Pt 1, Honest Pt 2

-Painted With Love

-Whole World

-The Thing About Being In Love

-A Reason To Live

-Wait For Me Pt 1*, Wait For Me Pt 1.5

-The Hoshina Brothers

-The Best Birthday

-In His Care

-Follow Me*

-Crushing Hard, Crushing Pt 2

-Half Human (part 2 in progress)

-No Matter The Distance

-Jealousy

-The Happiest Day

-The Sound Of His Love

-Three's A Crowd Ft. Gen Narumi, Pt 2: Soshiro Ending

-Done Deal (An Arranged Marriage Fic)

-Soshiro Gets Jealous

-Offense & Defense

-Carried Away

-My One & Only

-The Unwitting Confession

-A Man Worth Fighting For

-Friends With Benefits

-Study Buddies

-Best of Friends, Best Of Friends Pt 2

-Relentless

-Civilian Life

-Girl's Night

[shellem15]

Okay, I know the Dawnfather and the other primes are running interference, but we NEED to get a full, one-on-one conversation between Asmodeus and Raei (I need it. So bad.) It would hurt so much but so GOOD. I know the hardest bars would be dropped, fucking "My greatest heartbreak...is that I will only have eternity to punish them" levels of bitterness and resentment.

Especially considering what we learn about them in the intro! Imri was straight up ready to die for Luz! Fucker threw himself into the goddamn flames for her!

You know there's so much angst over that. Over how she apologized before healing him. Is Asmodeus hung up on that? About how he sacrificed himself out of love and all she gave in return (in his mind obvs) was guilt? Does he think that's why she tried to save him during Calamity? Not out of love but out of guilt for trapping him?

Asmodeus, who was changed (change, a thing he hates above all else) for her. Who refuses to be changed ever again. Who would hurt the ones he loves in his pursuit of revenge. Who loves his hatred more than he loves his siblings.

The Everlight, who was just trying to help her brother. Who was just trying to help the world. Who got stabbed in the back for her efforts. Does she regret it? Trying to help him? Does she regret saving him on that ship in the first place?

Perhaps Torog is right. Perhaps death would have been the greatest mercy for him. Anything that isn't pain, that isn't all-consuming hatred.

Imagine if she told him that. How much that would fucking hurt him (them both). If it was a lie, would he know? Would he call her out on it?

Probably, I imagine. He'd probably say something like: "Mortals think we are different. That you are honest while I am not. But between us, you've always been the better liar. The greatest, cruelest lie that's ever been told, is that there is any mercy to be found in this wretched world."

TLDR, this miniseries is driving me insane.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Gray Woman 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn’t help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Just the wine, thanks,” you tap your card on the edge of the lane counter mindlessly. The cashier rings through your single bottle and sends it down the next conveyor. You tap and the machine chirps. “Have a good day.” 

You take your receipt as the woman on the other side of the counter greets her next customer. You do your best to make yourself as little as a nuisance as you can when you switch roles. It saves everyone a whole lot of trouble. 

You go to grab your wine but it’s plucked up beyond your grasp. You keep your arm outstretched before you recoil it, staring at the stranger as he reads the label. You swallow and take a breath. You don’t have a window between you or a security button on a desk. It’s different when you’re out in the world. More dangerous, less orderly. 

“Excuse me, may I have my wine?” You ask flatly. 

The man clucks and tilts his head to look at you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and smirks, turning to face you completely. He keeps the wine in his hand. His bristly mustache slants in amusement. 

“Let’s try again. ‘Mr. Hansen, may I have my wine?’” He outlines the words with a flutter of fingers. 

You squint and shake your head. “Do I know you?” 

His lips part as he stammers, “uh, yeah? You—from the bank—Jesus. Doesn’t matter.” 

You nod warily and reach for the bottle. You wrap your hand around the narrow neck but he refuses to let go. Instead, he steps back, drawing you with him as the next customer comes down the lane. You cling to your middle shelf purchase. 

“I know you fucking remember me. You’re just trying to piss me off because Ronnie isn’t here to lay down the law. Trust me, I can do it myself, sweat pea.” 

He glares down at you. He sure has a lot of anger. You’re not entirely sure what you did to him. Working with peoples’ money is not easy, for either party. It’s such a sensitive subject as it is. Still, you don’t remember doing anything so egregious as to earn the spite creasing between his brows. 

“Alright,” you pull on the bottle again. “I just... I can’t remember. Honest.” 

He grips the bottle even tight. His large hand easily clings to the full belly. You sigh and let go. 

“Fine, it’s cheap wine anyway,” you shrug. You’re growing uneasy with this man. Not only is he aggressive but he’s much bigger than you. 

You let go and spin, striding away as you shake of your disappointment and the trickle of nerves. As the automatic door slides open at your approach, you hear a pursuit. You’re not sure if it’s him but you refuse to look back. You only speed up. 

“Hey, I don’t want your fucking wine,” he catches up to you as you come outside. 

You don’t stop. You step off the curb and keep your head straight. You deal with the erratic passengers on the subway, you can handle some stuck-up jerk made about a bank fee. 

“Would you stop? Hey, I’m trying to have a conversation here,” he huffs. You keep going. “Hey!” He grabs your arm and reels you back to face him, standing just behind a parked car. “Do I need to show my ID to have a fucking chat?” 

You blink at him and scour your mind. Mustache, demanding, intolerable. You think you remember now. He’s the one who refuse to show his ID. You glance back at the grocery marquee and your lips thin. As a black card holder, you don’t expect him to be shopping at a bargain grocery. 

“Can I help you?” You face him. 

His cheek twitches, “relax, darling, we’re not at the fucking bank.” 

You consider him, eyes darting as you search for some sense in all of this, “uh huh. So...” 

“Do you just not turn it off or are you really a bitch?” He sneers. 

You shrug, “guess I'm a bitch.” 

You look at his hand on your arm and yank away. You once more turn to strut off and he snorts. Once more, he has your wrist but you try to ignore him. Try to snatch it free as you refuse to turn back. He’s too strong. 

For as long as you’ve had the canister in your purse, you don’t relish using it. You wonder if it’s expired. You reach into your open purse, dangling by your hip and turn. Before can speak, you raise the nozzle at him and press down. The coyote spray scours his eyes and he recoils. 

The bottle of wine smashes at his feet and the staggers, stomping as he wipes his eyes desperately. He whines and wheezes, coughing through the cloud of spray. You back up to keep free of it. You allow a single second to mourn the pinot then scurry away. His anguished moans fade away as you dip around another car. 

You head down to the subway and wait on the ramp, looking back and forth over your shoulders. You’re certain he didn’t follow you, that he couldn’t see enough to do so, but still, you’re addled. The city isn’t the place to take chances. 

All you wanted was a drink or too. You planned on nursing that bottle over a few nights. The bank’s been so hectic, just the thought of getting up to go back has been keeping you awake. Well, a few chapters of your latest read will put you to sleep. 

You board and find a seat near the doors. You make yourself as small as you can as you hug your purse. You’re agitated. You can smell the spray on your fingers. What an asshole. He didn’t just waste your wine, he ruined your night.