#no I just think the way the picture is framed is how i feel

[iamgonnagetyouback]

sirius black x reader who is camera shy

It all started the day Sirius showed up at your doorstep, grinning mischievously and holding a camera. You’d had no idea he even owned one. Yet there he was, camera in hand, ready to capture everything in sight — and “everything” included you.

“Come on, love,” he said, bringing the camera up to his eye. “Just one shot. It’s like catching a little piece of you I get to keep forever.”

You scoffed, ducking out of frame, feeling that familiar twinge of discomfort creep up your neck. “I don’t know, Sirius… I’m just not photogenic. Really. You don’t need a picture of me.”

He pouted, but let it go, for that moment at least. But the camera became a staple in his life. And with it, he made it his personal mission to capture every beautiful moment — especially if it had you in it.

Whenever you two were out, Sirius would sneak out the camera, trying to snap a photo of you while you were distracted. You’d catch him just in time, turning away with a shy laugh, hiding behind your hands or whatever you could find. He never pushed, just smiled at your evasive maneuvers, a patient glimmer in his eyes.

And over time, he took to gently reminding you how beautiful you were.

“Honestly, love, you have no idea how gorgeous you look in my eyes,” he’d murmur, brushing a strand of hair from your face after you’d duck away from a quick photo attempt.

You’d roll your eyes, heart fluttering at his words but still feeling uncertain. “You’re biased,” you’d counter with a smile. He’d only chuckle, replying softly, “Maybe. But I know a good thing when I see it.”

This went on for months. He’d compliment you when you least expected it, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel warm from the inside out. And slowly — so slowly, you hadn’t even noticed — you started seeing yourself a little bit the way he did.

Then one day, it just happened.

The two of you were out on a picnic, just the two of you and the camera he always brought along. As you watched the clouds roll by, he pulled out the camera and held it up, waiting for the familiar routine of you hiding your face. But something in you shifted. Instead of dodging, you straightened up, turning to face him directly.

And you… posed.

Sirius’ eyes widened slightly behind the lens, but he quickly recovered, snapping the photo before you changed your mind. As the camera clicked, a huge smile spread across his face.

Sirius’ gaze softened, and he looked at you like he was seeing the most beautiful sight in the world. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a gentle, almost reverent smile.

“What?” you asked, feeling a bit shy under his stare.

“You posed,” he murmured, voice thick with affection, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that melted every last bit of your camera shyness.

With a soft laugh, he set the camera down, moving closer to wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing your skin.

you guys didn't think i wouldn't post in honour of THE SIRIUS BLACK'S birthday(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🥳

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 2

Lemonade || leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: Your first few days in your new home.

Warnings: reliving of traumatic events, mentions of death, pregnancy

a/n: Will make more sense if you read Part 1 first.

Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome back. I really, really appreciate it 🫶

PART 2

You couldn’t really believe how different your room looked now.  Your Aunties had gone a bit overboard and it had somehow transformed from a very plain and adult looking room, to a soft and colourful squishy bedroom.  You now had a cozy single bed with a purple duvet cover and lots of new stuffies.  You had a bookshelf that was already half filled with books and a desk with drawers filled with all different coloured papers and various drawing supplies.  Your wardrobe was filled with all sorts of new clothes, including brand new school uniforms and a new backpack.  There’s a big fluffy rug on the floor and a small nightlight shaped like a bunny on your bedside table. 

Beside the bunny nightlight there was a picture frame with a photo of you, your Mummy and your Daddy in it.

It made you feel a bit sad, but you still don’t want to cry.  You hadn’t cried since they died.

You didn’t cry when you found out.  You didn’t cry at their funeral.  You didn’t cry when your Nana took you to see what was left of your home.  You just felt an overwhelming sense of nothing about it all.  You didn’t know how else to explain it.

You did however still feel anxious and trembly and on edge about your new living situation.  You of course knew that Aunty Lessi and Leah would never do anything on purpose to hurt you, but you didn’t want to do anything to upset them or make them angry.  You wanted to be good.  You needed to be good.    

So, as you lay tucked into your squishy new bed, you tried your best to just fall asleep.  You’d wanted to read a book like you usually did before bed, but your nightlight wasn’t bright enough.  So once Aunty Lessi had turned the big light off, you had been left to just toss and turn.  You’d tried counting sheep.  Well, you’d tried counting bunnies actually, but that didn’t help.  Then you tried listing off all the different breeds of bunnies that you could think of, and then you tried to list off all the books you had read and at some point you finally, finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning it’s your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with your Mummy and Daddy as they sing happy birthday to you.  There are some presents beside you and a big card with a number 8 and a bunny on it.  You make a wish and go to blow your candles out, but instead of blowing them out, you take a birthday candle off your cake and flick it onto the floor.  The whole house erupts in flames as you walk out the front door, not even stopping to look back as you hear your Mummy and Daddy’s scream.

Suddenly you wake up, gasping for air and covered in sweat.  Your sheets are all tangled around you, and you feel like you’re being strangled.  You leap out of the bed, desperate to escape the location of your nightmare.  You just wanted to escape to somewhere far, far away.  Anywhere would do.  Anywhere but the place where your head was currently.

So, you escape the best way you know how.  Looking around the room, you figure out what supplies you’ll need to gather: a sheet, a torch of some kind, Arthur (of course) and a book.  Once gathered, you sat on the big fluffy rug and pulled the sheet over your head before cracking the new book open and diving into whatever world awaits you.  The relief is instant. 

You’re not too sure how long it is before you hear a few footsteps followed by your bedroom door creaking open gently.

“Bunny, what are you doing up sweetie?”

You panic.  You’d been caught by your Aunty Leah.  Surely you were going to get in all sorts of trouble for being up this late when you should have been in bed asleep.

You quickly turn off the makeshift torch (you’d discovered some kind of bouncy ball that lit up when you hit it and was just bright enough) and hurried to push the sheet and book away, before diving back into your bed and getting under the covers. 

“S-sorry Aunty Leah.  I’m really sorry…”

Your voice was trembling.  In fact, your whole body was trembling.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Hey, hey… you have nothing to apologise for sweetheart.”  Your Aunty Leah walked over towards your bed.  “Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit?”

You nodded, unsure where this conversation was going.  She sat down on the side of bed, one hand on her big baby belly, the other reaching forward to gently stroke your cheek.

It felt really nice.  You very much wanted one of her hugs right about now.

“Sorry for waking y-you up, Aunty Leah.  I promise I didn’t mean to.  I’ll try to be more quiet in the future.”

“Oh Bun, you didn’t wake me up.  This one did” she poked at her belly and chuckled.  “They’re currently doing star jumps on my bladder and making me need the loo every 10 minutes.  I just thought I’d check on you while I was up.”

A small part of you relaxed knowing you hadn’t woken her up, but you were still waiting for her to punish you for being up past your bedtime.  Not that you really knew what your bedtime was now.  It used to be 8 o’clock, but you were allowed to read in bed with your reading lamp for a little while after that.  Surely it was way, way past 8 o’clock now though.

“Were you having trouble sleeping?” she asked.

“Kind of…”

“Did you have a scary dream?”

You gulped.  That wasn’t exactly how you would describe it, but you also didn’t have any better words to use, so instead you just nodded.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry.  You can always come find your Aunty Lessi or I if you have a bad dream or you’re having trouble sleeping.  We’re always happy to give you snuggles in our bed.”

You just nod, afraid to tell her that you couldn’t climb into her and Aunty Lessi’s bed.  Bad things happen when you sleep in beds that aren’t yours.  You would never tell your Aunties, but you had slept on the floor the two nights before your brand-new bed had arrived, too scared to sleep in the big, adult bed in case something bad happened again.

“I’m happy to see you reading the books we picked out though.  We weren’t too sure what you had and hadn’t read, so we just tried to get you your own little library going…”

All of a sudden, the most intense wave of panic hit you, followed by a terrifying realisation.  For the first time since your parents died, you started to cry.  And it wasn’t the gentle, weepy kind of cry.  It was the big, jagged breaths and snotty nose tears streaming down your face kind of cry.

“Oh my goodness… I’m- I’m going to get in so much trouble! They’ll never let me back there again.  I’ll have to find some way to make all the money to pay them back.  It’s- it’s going to take me years.  I- I- I’ll never-”

“Woah, woah… deep breaths, deep breaths.  Copy me, in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You copied your Aunty Leah and your breathing slowly started to settle down, your panic subsiding a little, but your tears continued to fall.

“That’s it. Well done, Bunny.  Can you tell me what made you so upset just now?” she asked.

“All of my library books were in my bedroom and… and I must have had at least 15 or 16 of them.  And Nana said nothing from my room made it through the fire and Mummy always said if I didn’t treat the library books good or if I lost one that I would have to save up all my pocket money to replace it.  Because if the books get lost or broken then no-one else can borrow them.”

You’re getting worked up again, your voice beginning to rise. 

“But I don’t have any pocket money, coz it was all in my bunny bank, and that would have gone in the fire too and it’s going to take me forever to save up enough to replace 16 books and the librarians will be so mad at me.  They’ll probably never let me back in the library or any library ever again!”

It was the most you had spoken since you had moved in with your Aunties, and you could tell that your Aunty Leah was a bit shocked at your outburst.  Suddenly Aunty Lessi appeared at your door in her pyjamas.  You must have woken her up now too.

Hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless.

“I’m sorry for being so loud, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you’d buried your face into the fur of Arthur’s belly, rubbing the softness across your skin in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The words just kept tumbling out of your mouth, losing all sense and meaning.  You just kept saying them over and over, feeling like both them and the soft fur of your beloved Arthur were the only things keeping you tethered to the earth right now.

But then you were being lifted out of your bed sheets and being pulled into a tight embrace.  You assumed it was your Aunty Lessi.  There was no baby belly and it smelled like Aunty Lessi.  She wore the same perfume as your Mummy did.  You clung to her with all your strength, even though you were still afraid that she was angry at you for waking her up.  She stroked your hair and ran her fingers gently up and down your back as she walked around the room with you in her arms, rocking you slightly.  You felt like a baby, but you didn’t care.  You knew you were a big girl who could and would look after herself, but just for this moment, this one moment, you just wanted to be little again.  You just wanted to be held and comforted and cuddled and loved.

You just wanted your Mummy and Daddy.

And just as quickly as the wave of panic and outburst of tears hit you, the balloon of emotions grew too big, and popped.  Once again, you felt nothing. 

Your tears dried, your breathing settled and your tight grip on your Aunty loosened until she placed you gently back down in your bed.  Your Aunty Leah brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear and cupping your cheek.  She looked at you with what seemed to be a mixture of concern and confusion, as if she couldn’t quite figure out how you’d gone so quickly from a shaking, crying little baby back to your previous state of nothingness.  You couldn’t figure it out either, it’s just how it was.

“Bunny, I don’t want you worry about those library books for a single second.  We will talk to the librarians and if there are any fees that need to be paid, Aunty Lessi and I will make sure they are taken care of.  The library isn’t going to stop you from coming to visit because something really, really awful has happened to you.  We will make sure you get to go back and pick out plenty of new books to read, okay?  We will always make sure you have plenty of books to read.  We promise.”

--

The next day when your Aunty Lessi went off to training, Aunty Leah took you down to the library.

She had asked you if you wanted to talk to the librarian or if you wanted her to do it for you.  Whilst everything inside of you screamed to let her do the talking, you were a big girl, and it was your fault the books got destroyed, so you had to do this yourself.  So, you walked up to the counter and with trembling hands pressed the little silver bell on the bench and waited patiently for a librarian to come help you.

A kind looking lady with fuzzy black hair and big brown eyes approached the desk and gazed down toward you.  “And how can I help you today, little lady?”

With a deep breath and a tight squeeze of your beloved Arthur, you began to explain.

“My house burned down.  I had borrowed lots and lots of books because I love to read but they all got burned in the fire so I can’t return them.  So I-I-I know I need to pay loads of money to replace them, but I need to know how much so I can start saving…”

The lady looked from you, up towards your Aunty Leah stood just behind you, who had what you could only describe as a sad smile on her face as she nodded at the librarian.

“Well, it sounds to me like the only thing that needs replacing here is your library card.  I’m assuming you lost that in the fire too darling?”

You hadn’t even considered your library card.  Were you going to have to pay for that as well?

“Oh yeah, I did.  So umm… how much will it all cost all together then, with the library card added on?”

Useless. Useless. Useless.

“Oh no sweetie, what I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay for anything.  We’ll just make sure we get you set up with a replacement library card so that you can keep borrowing from the library and keep on reading!”

You were shocked.  You were certain that the fee was going to be huge.  Absolutely massive.  And even though you knew your Aunties had said they’d pay for it, you’d promised yourself you would save up and pay them back every last pound.

“Really?”

“Absolutely!  Here, you just need pick out which design you would like on your new library card, and I’ll just grab a few details off your Mum here and-”

“She’s my Aunty.  My Mummy died in the fire.  So did my Daddy.”

A tense silence filled the air as you went about looking over the laminated sheet of paper showing you the card design options.

“Can I get the one with the purple ladybirds, please?”

--

When your Aunty Lessi came home from training that afternoon, she had her kit bag on her shoulder and a couple of shopping bags in her hands.

“Hi my loves!”

You watched from your spot on the armchair as your Aunty Leah walked in from the kitchen and gave Aunty Lessi a kiss ‘hello’.  After their kiss, Aunty Lessi bent down to rub her hands over Aunty Leah’s tummy and pressed a few kisses there too.  They were exchanging soft words, but they were talking a bit too quietly and were standing a bit too far away for you to hear.

Your insides felt a weird jumbly feeling whenever you saw the pair of them kiss and cuddle, especially when Aunty Lessi would kiss or talk to Aunty Leah’s baby belly.  A part of you felt this really warm, light kind of feeling that made you want to sing and fly and twirl, but a bigger part of you felt this awful sinking feeling that made want to run and hide.  When they combined, they made you feel like you might be sick.

In an effort not to throw up all over your Aunties nice furniture, you leapt from the armchair and ran quietly towards the bathroom, making sure to close the door gently behind you.

Whilst you didn’t end up being sick, you found relief in the feeling of the cool bathroom tiles against your skin as you lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling.  You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there, running your fingers across the smooth flooring, before you heard a soft knock at the door. 

“Bunny? Are you okay in there?  You’ve been in there a little while?”

Lifting your head off the cool tiles, you rummaged together a response for your Aunty Lessi.

“Uhh, yeah.  Just a bit of a yucky tummy.  I’m okay,” you replied.

“Alright sweetie, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you Aunty Lessi.”

Your head hit the tiles again with a soft thud.

Reluctantly you got to your feet, straightened your clothes and looked at yourself in the mirror.  You made sure to flush the toilet to make your lie seem a little more realistic, and you washed your hands so that they would smell like your Aunties nice vanilla soap.

When you emerged from the bathroom and re-entered the living room, your Aunty Lessi got off the couch where she had been sitting and shuffled on her knees over to you.

“How are you feeling, Bun?”

She looked you over as one of her hands ran over your forehead, checking for a temperature, whilst the other ran soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m fine.  My tummy was just a bit upset, but it’s all good now.  I’m fine.” 

“Do you want some water or some toast or-”

“I’m fine, Aunty Lessi.”

“Okay, well you let us know if you need anything or you feel worse, alright?” she insisted.

You nodded, gently stepping out of her grasp as you shuffled back toward the armchair you had been sitting in, aiming to reunite with Arthur and your book.

There was a brief silence as you got yourself settled, but then Aunty Lessi returned to the room with the shopping bags from earlier.

“I got you a couple of things, Bunny.”

You looked up from your book, confused to find your Aunty Lessi now sitting in front of the coffee table.  She was patting the spot beside her, indicating to you she wanted you to join her on the rug.  You shuffled back down off the armchair, this time bringing Arthur with you, and tentatively sat in the spot she’d gestured at.

“Well, I know you’re not that big on sports or football, but I thought maybe you might want to come along to our game next weekend?  It’s totally up to you and completely okay if you don’t want to come along! Nana has already said she’ll come around and look after you if you’re not interested.  But just in case you do want to come, or if you ever want to later down the track, I got you some gear so you’ll fit right in and match everyone.”

She started pulling a bunch of red and white clothing out of a bright red shopping bag, each one with the same pictures and words printed somewhere on them.  The final item she pulled out was a mostly red shirt with the word ‘BUNNY’ in big white block writing across the back and the number 23 under it.

“I wasn’t too sure what to get on your jersey, but I figured as Aunty Leah isn’t really playing this season, we’d start with my number, 23, and maybe we can swap to 6 next season or on an away jersey or something.  Or you can pick your favourite number, or another player if you prefer…”

Aunty Leah laughed loudly beside you at the last remark.

“The only rule is that you’re not allowed to pick McCabe’s number, because we will never hear the end of that, okay?” she told you.

You nodded, not quite understanding what she meant, but filing that information away for later.  It seemed important. 

As you surveyed the sea of red and white clothing, you felt a strong sense of obligation to attend the game.  You knew that football was very, very important to your Aunties and they spent a lot of their time playing the sport.  And whilst you only very vaguely understood the rules (kick the ball into the back of the big net thing), you thought maybe with your brand-new library card you might be able to borrow a few books on football and learn about it some more.  You loved to learn, and perhaps this could be an opportunity to learn about something completely new.

“Can Arthur come to the game too?”

You watched as both your Aunties eyes lit up with excitement as they both shouted “Of course!”

“Okay, we will come then.”

“Are you sure, Bun?  You don’t have to just because Aunty Lessi got you some gear,” your Aunty Leah was sitting on the very edge of the couch now, her hand reaching out towards yours.

“I’m sure.  And it’s good coz I want to learn more about football because it means a lot to you” you replied as you took hold of her hand before turning to face Aunty Lessi  “To both of you.”

“Well, we will be honoured to have you come along with us.  And I’ll try and score a goal just for you” your Aunty Lessi said.

You like the sound of that.  That gave you the light kind of feeling that made you wanted to sing and fly and twirl, but without the other horrible sinking feeling that made you want to run and hide.

“What’s- what’s in the other bag?” you asked.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me, I nearly forgot with all the excitement about the game,” she reached over the coffee table and pulled a brown cardboard box out of the bag.  “It’s nothing fancy, but your Aunty Leah realised we didn’t get you a proper lamp for reading, so I popped into the shops and picked you up one.  Now you can read before bed or if you wake up throughout the n-”

You cut her off before she finished her sentence, launching yourself at her in the tightest hug you could muster.  You could have cried at the thoughtfulness.  In fact, you think you may have been crying, just a tiny little bit. 

“Thank you, Aunty Lessi.” 

You quickly pulled back and stumbled over to the couch where Aunty Leah was sitting, wrapping your arms around her the best you could with her big baby belly in the way.

“Thank you, Aunty Leah,” you whispered as her hands ran through your hair.

“No more using a bouncy ball as a torch, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[anadiasmount]

What type of boyfriend do you think jude would be?

small headcannon of bf! jude!! 🤍

always wanting to hold your hand, we’ve said this before, we’ll say it again, his love language is physical touch, so holding your hand is an everyday thing!!

calling you wife instead of gf cause he’s that in love with you!! 😭🤍

leaves small notes with reminders, maybe phrases to how much he loves you, items you or him will pick up from the store, tiny drawings of hearts!!

flowers!! he doesn’t need to ask, he just knows!! always save a one flower from himself so he knows when to get a new bouquet for you!! he’d bring them after training or surprise you in the morning!!

willing to make any small snacks for you when you’re busy working/ studying!! he’d respect your boundary of wanting a quiet and peaceful setting, yet he’d pop in then and there with smoothies, snacks, maybe sandwich, cause he loves to take care of you!!

do spontaneous things!! one second you could be laying down and the next he’s dragged you away to a small walk, date, food trip or even a convenience store to just make a random trip!! but he also loves planned dates where he can just spoil you to a fancy or normal dinner!!

on the topic of spoiling, he would find any reason to gift you something so small or large at any expense!! you’re feeling sad here’s a gift, he’s proud of you there’s another gift, he’s made you angry he’d give you a large gift!! and you as well, you love to see that huge smile on his face so doing you’d also anything to replicate those smiles!!

hugeeee cuddler!! you’re personal teddy bear i fear!! either of you don’t have to ask, it just becomes a trait and you’d find yourselves just conjoining together on the couch, the loungers in his backyard, his bed, the small bay window area in your office, press kisses against his skin or feeling his lips pressed on your temple.

compliment you!! a new outfit he’s pointing it out and compliments you!! your perfume makes his head cloudy so he would especially compliment you on that!! new hairdo and he’s immediately noticing that and brushing you to endless compliments!! or notice a small change in your makeup routine and he’s immediately loving the look!! 🤍

taking candid photos of you on his phone or your camera and printing them out to put them around his house or your flat!! buying the silly frames and purposely putting them where guest can see, noticing how they make you laugh so he’s always printing photos!!

would also keep a polaroid in his wallet to just observe at any given chance!! and always adding more and more pictures to his locker as a way of goodluck before training, leaving for an away game, during game day!! he feels a sense of peace!! 🤍

if you guys have stuffed animals he’d keep them in his bed whenever you’re not there because he takes the whole dad act serious!! sending you pictures of them before he goes to sleep or just making them do something goofy so you’re immediately telling him off!! but deep down he can’t wait to pass them down to your kids :(( 🤍

he loves when you show up to his trainings and shows off because you’re there when he doesn’t need to!! always kisses you before his games as a way of more goodluck or trying to sneak a small meetup during halftime!! he’s attached at this point…

just constantly reminding how much he loves you during anytime of the day!! he loves to let you know just how much he appreciates what you do for him and you guys!! 🤍🤍

[capseycartwright]

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me."

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

ao3 link

November 1. The date is not one Eddie is likely to ever forget. Even before Shannon died, Dia de los Muertos wasn’t a holiday he ever missed - as a child, he would help his abuelo make their altar every year, a picture of his abuelo front-and-centre, Edmundo Diaz Senior, the man he’d been named for, looking sharp in his suit as he looked out from the glass picture frame where he’d lived all of Eddie’s life. He’d never met his grandfather - only carried his name. 

Over the years, more faces found a home on the altar - friends, and family, time a fickle thing and the only certainty about life that it ended. Death was familiar, a constant in a world Eddie felt like he could never quite figure out.

After Shannon died -

The first November 1 after she died, Eddie built his own altar for the first time, explaining the tradition to Christopher. They had done it every year since, Christopher’s face in a set line as he made sure everything was absolutely perfect. No less than his mother deserved, Eddie knew. 

Shannon hadn’t grown up with the traditions of All Saints and All Souls, but she’d embraced them wholly when she and Eddie had gotten married, making the altar herself when Eddie wasn’t there. It felt right to honour her with the traditions she had loved herself. That was why Eddie had taken to adding a picture of Shannon’s mother to the altar too, when she died the year after Shannon did. Breast cancer, they’d said, but Eddie knew heartbreak had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge.

Every year, Eddie celebrated Shannon, and her mother, his grandfather, the people he’d served with who had died - 

Except this year.

Eddie felt bad. Really, he did - he was going to build the altar himself, but when his dad had texted a picture of the Diaz family altar, Shannon front and centre, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to make his own. Shannon was being remembered - that was what mattered. He’d gone to her grave instead, only half listening as the priest had said mass over the graveyard, praying for the salvation of the souls who were buried there.

Grief was a funny old beast, Eddie knew. Grief had made him do crazy things - grief had driven his son to Texas, for crying out loud. The grief didn’t hit standing by her grave, but it did when dusk descended over Eddie’s house, and the absence of an altar began to feel like one of the worst things he’d done amongst a year of terrible decision-making.

Maybe he should have taken Buck up on his offer of coming over to make an altar with him, but Eddie had asked enough of his best friend in the last four months. Eddie knew Tommy had bought them tickets for some movie Buck was dying to see, and as much as Eddie was a near-professional third wheel now, he didn’t think he’d make a good addition to the back row of their local movie theatre.

Eddie winced as he looked at the candle he’d swiped from the dining table. “It’s cedarwood,” he said, apologetic as he lit it, setting the candle down in front of the framed picture of Shannon that lived on their fireplace. “I know you hated cedarwood, but I’m working with what I’ve got here, Shan.”

Eddie pressed his cheek against his folded arms, taking one, two, three shaky breaths. “I really struggled after you left, Shannon. I don’t think I really even realised how much until now - and it’s not just because you were gone, but you were gone and you wanted a divorce, and I - suddenly, I was never going to get answers.”

He’d been talking about Shannon a lot in therapy, lately, unpacking all his complicated feelings during his excruciating weekly hour with Frank. 

“I don’t know if I even wanted to stay married to you,” Eddie admitted, the candle flickering in the growing dark of his living room. That was terrifying to admit out loud - that even if she had stayed alive, he and Shannon wouldn’t have made it work. There were a thousand reasons why, and Eddie could sit, and list them all, but one was more important than the others. 

“I think I’m gay, Shannon,” Eddie had never said it out loud before, despite the thought never quite leaving his mind, Pandora’s box open, now. “If you were here, I bet you’d have such a laugh with that - not like, in a bad way. Just - I think you’d find it funny, that your mom’s gaydar was right after all.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought himself. Shannon’s mom had been the bitchiest woman he’d ever met, and Eddie loved her for it. 

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” Eddie paused. “But with you, most of all. I’m sorry - for my part in it all. I thought I was doing the right thing, joining the army. I just wanted to take care of you and Chris, and I didn’t see any other way out. I know it was the wrong choice - but I really thought it was the right one. You know?”

Shannon’s picture stayed silent. 

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. For the life she might have had, if not for the car crash - Eddie sometimes liked to indulge himself and think of an alternative life where Shannon had survived, where they got divorced, and learned how to co-parent, and maybe they found their way back to being friends. It was a nice thought.

Eddie wiped roughly at his eyes. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.” 

With a shaky hand, Eddie pressed a kiss to the framed picture, setting Shannon back down with the candle. It was a half-assed altar, and somehow, that made Eddie feel worse. He scrambled to his feet, heading for his bedroom, and the box of Shannon’s belongings he knew was stashed at the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t kept much for himself - most of it was for Christopher - but he had a few things. There was a necklace in there, he knew that Eddie had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. It was a cheap thing, because they were always broke, but it was something of hers - it would make it a more acceptable offering.

Eddie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as he spotted what was in his bedroom. A butterfly, resting on his pillowcase, on the side he always slept on. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered softly, not wanting to startle the tiny creature. His abuela loved butterflies - they were spirits of the people you loved, who had left, coming back to visit. Eddie felt slightly ridiculous, but he said it anyway. “Shannon?”

The butterfly didn’t move. 

“I’m so glad Christopher isn’t here, because he would really think I’ve lost it,” Eddie crouched by the side of his bed, holding out a finger. “Hey. Is this your way of telling me it’s okay to let you go? Did you hear all of that?” 

The butterfly moved, tiny wings fluttering as it came to land on Eddie’s outstretched finger. 

“I hope that’s a yes,” Eddie knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, but he didn’t want to freak the butterfly out by wiping them away. “How did you get in here, eh? None of the windows are open.”

If Eddie Diaz believed in a higher power, still, he’d blame God - or the universe. 

“Let’s get you outside,” Eddie said, and the butterfly flapped, a little, coming to land on the windowsill instead. “Yeah? You’re ready to go?”

The butterfly flapped in response again.

“I think I’m ready to let you go, this time,” Eddie admitted, carefully unlatching the window. “We’re going to be okay, me and Christopher. I promise. You can go. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

The butterfly seemed to pause, for a second, before it flew out the open window, disappearing into the beginnings of the evening. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, rolling off the curve of his chin and onto his shirt, but the next thing he knew, he could hear - 

“Buck?”

“Eddie! You’re a firefighter - how long have you left that candle unattended, huh? Eddie - Eddie, where are you, man?”

Buck appeared in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, a family-sized bag of sour patch kids tucked under one arm. “Do I need to teach you the basics of fire safety all over again?” he huffed, pausing as he noticed Eddie’s tears. “Eddie - you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie offered his best friend a teary smile. For the first time, Eddie might actually mean that yes. “I’m okay. There - there was a butterfly,” he explained, gesturing at the window vaguely. “I had to let it out.”

“A butterfly?” Buck looked confused. 

“My abuela always said butterflies were the spirits of people who’ve died,” Eddie explained. “I lit a candle for Shannon, and there was a butterfly just sitting on my pillow, when I came in here. It’s…” he paused. “It’s stupid.”  

Buck’s face softened. ‘It’s not stupid,” he shook his head. “You think it was Shannon?”

Eddie glanced at the window again. “I hope it was,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he closed the window. That in itself felt like symbolism, Eddie decided - a closing of a chapter he should have let go a long time ago. That’s what he needed it to be, at least. “Wait - aren’t you meant to be on a date?”

Bcuk shrugged. “We changed the tickets to tomorrow,” he explained, holding up the bag of candy. “You said you weren’t going to make an altar, and I didn’t want to let you skip out on it. These were her favourite, right?” 

Eddie could cry all over again. Buck, like Shannon, hadn’t grown up with Dia de los Muertos, but here he was, with a bag of Eddie’s dead wife’s favourite candy, ready to sit in Eddie’s grief with him. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d done in a previous life to deserve a friend like Evan Buckley, but he thanked whatever God or universe was listening for giving him Buck anyway.

“She’d eat so many she’d give herself a stomach-ache,” Eddie grinned, and the memory didn’t hurt, the way it used to, the grief a dull ache that he could grow around, now. He leaned into the embrace Buck offered, breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent of Buck’s favourite cologne. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck hummed, pressing a ridiculous, loud, smacking kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie loved him. “But I’m buying you one of those electric candle warmers if you’re going to keep leaving candles unattended, Eddie.” 

Eddie was mostly listening as he let Buck guide him back to the living room, the candle still flickering golden in front of Shannon’s picture. It was the same one he’d put on her memorial programme - bright, and beautiful, just like she’d always been when she was alive. 

Buck grinned, as he set a piece of candy in front of her picture. “Berry,” he explained. “My favourite,” he added, tossing a handful of the sour sweets into his own mouth. 

They sat, the television playing reruns of a procedural in the background, eating candy until their stomachs hurt, the candle burning all the way to the end. 

The butterfly didn’t come back.

Buck stayed.

Eddie was ready to move on.

(Buck stayed.)

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #3

What if... SMG3 had the courage to confess his feelings for SMG4?

[more below cut]

No context this time, the only thing I will say is that it will be a long one ;)

"Before it may be too late."

SMG3 stared at the ceiling, his fingers fidgeting with the trim of his bed sheets. Those words haven't stopped bothering him for hours. An answer to his question. Not of "would've" or "should've", but "could've".

SMG4. No, Four.

But it'll never be your Four.

It was already a mess when he realized he had feelings for the blue idiot, and now, of all things, he wanted to confess.

If he doesn't reciprocate, will it leave things awkward between us?

He turned to his side and patted Eggdog, who was sleeping peacefully, letting out a defeated sigh. What was he supposed to think? The way they talked, the slightest touch of their hands. It should mean something, right?

What if it's too good to be true?

Three looked over to the shelf that stood on the other side of his room, to a familiar picture frame. Terrence. His first son, first friend. He cared for him so much, and he had to say goodbye. To save the world.

And since when did a villain deserve love?

Months, years have passed. He earned a fresh start, a new home. Eggdog. His role in the Crew, his role as Meme Guardian. And...

Once a villain, always a villain.

...Right. Eggman just had to come in and remind him that Three was a villain. Admittedly, it did feel good to create some havoc. That was until he was tasked to kill Four. And... Four may have believed him when he said he might've thought about the idea itself. Of course, it wasn't true but...

What makes you think he could ever love you after what you did to him?

Well, hey, if the ping-pong game inside his head would let him sleep, that would be great, thank you very much. Not that he could shove it back in his mind again as he thought back to his past. There was indeed one moment; the one he prided himself on when he was a villain and the same one he would rather forget now.

The Youtube Remote.

Oof, it was something alright. It was when he was taken seriously, when he was an actual threat. Perhaps if the Crew failed to take him down, he would've gotten what he wanted. Heh, if only his past self could see him now. Three wouldn't care, he found out what he actually needed. Even so, he's still SMG3.

As he dozes off, one person comes to mind. The one who saw how he grown from his past, who gave him advice earlier today.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Three was going around the near-empty cafe, a small tray in hand. Just as he set a cup down, Four called out to him. Four waves and said his farewell, thanking him for the latte. Three did the same before he accidentally bumped against the table close by. Fortunately, nothing spilled. But Three did earn a giggle from Four. If only Four knew how much his presence lights up Three's world. His shooting star.

Four was long gone but Three's eyes were still glued to where he once was.

Melony: "Are you okay, SMG3?"

Well, it seems he wasn't that good at hiding his crush. Also because Melony was sitting at the table Three just bumped into. Three reassured her that he was fine.

Oh boy, the Crew. They suspected that he had a crush on someone. And ever since "Girls' Night", he might've slipped up a confirmation to the girls, only referring to Four as "That Person". I mean, could you even blame him? The girls were so kind to invite him to one of their exclusive sleepovers, welcoming him with open arms. He felt strangely comfortable sharing this with them. And they didn't judge, promising to not tell a word to the other boys. Melony was there too.

Three looked down at her table to see her Axol plush sitting nearby. Indeed, he felt bad for her after Axol was gone, they weren't able to have the relationship they could've wanted. That loss, he understood it well with what happened to Terrence. But he was impressed by how strong Melony was in handling it all. You could almost say he was proud.

Melony: "It's about 'Them', right?" SMG3: "Well, no. I mean..." [*sighs*] "...yeah." Melony: "Do you love them?" SMG3: "I've literally risked my life for them. Of course, I do. But... I know they don't feel the same." [*picks up an empty plate from the table*] Melony: "How do you know?" SMG3: [*stops, flabbergasted*] "Wha...? It isn't that easy, Mel, I can risk my life all I want for them but I'm not going to risk... this. Besides, I'm sure someone better would come along and treat them well, more than I can offer. I'm content with what we have now, and that's enough for me."

A pause. They were lucky to be the only ones in the cafe but it only made the silence almost unbearable.

SMG3, defeated: "Here's your receipt. Enjoy your drink." [*turns to leave*] Melony: "Whenever Axol and I hung out..." [*SMG3 stops*] "I felt like we understood each other, even though we haven't said anything about it. I cared for him as much as he cared for me. I felt safe, loved. But then... that happened. Maybe we could've dated if we had the time. Sooner if we just talked." [*SMG3 turns to see Melony's bittersweet smile*] "Don't make the same mistake as we did. Tell SMG4 how you feel before it may be too late." SMG3: [*shocked*] "How did...?" Melony: [*giggles*] "It takes one to know one. And if it doesn't work out either way, know that your friends are still here for you."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

His phone alarm goes off, stirring him awake. Any doubt he had before, it somehow vanished overnight. "Before it may be too late." Melony was right. Who knows what could happen tomorrow. He faced worse things before, they fought off eldritch monsters for memes' sake. He could handle this. Eggdog nuzzled his hand, prompting Three to give his son head scratches.

SMG3: "It's now or never, Eggdog... Could you stay by me, just in case?"

Eggdog lets two encouraging barks, giving Three a bit of comfort.

Just as he does every morning, Three sets up the tables and chairs. The coffee maker set, the clean dishes are ready to go. Finally, Three stands behind the counter, looking at the second hand on the clock.

4...3...2...1...

Right on cue, Four comes in with his laptop.

SMG4: "'Morning SMG3, the usual for me please." [*head over to his favorite table*] SMG3: [*taking out the milk*] "And when are you going to pick something different?" SMG4: "Oh, c'mon, I'm not getting special treatment for being your most loyal customer anymore?" SMG3: "Hmph, and a little bluejay told me you didn't like coffee way before I opened my cafe." SMG4: [*shrugs*] "What can I say? I like the way you make them."

SMG3 shakes his head fondly as he prepares the order, one he memorized by heart: one Cyanide Supreme Latte with ten shots of expresso and five spoons of sugar. All in the usual blue mug with constellation decals. Oh, and not to forget the latte art. It was what Four always ordered and it was the reason why Three started doing latte art in the first place.

That blue meme lord was always curious about what new art he made, and that fact never failed to warm Three's heart. While working on the order, they did their usual talk: memes, streaming, and video editing. A bit of banter here and there.

SMG4 usually works in the Castle but there were moments when Four brought his work here in the cafe. At least, he isn't in his room all day and Three could remind him to take breaks off the screen. Three brought the warm cup to Four's table. Taking his eyes off his work, Four looked at the latte art his purple guardian partner did.

SMG4: "Oh, that's a good-looking rose! A lot better than last time." SMG3: "Hey, that was my first time doing it. Give me a break."

That is true. But also because it was his first attempt to drop a hint to Four that he had romantic feelings for him, he was so nervous that his hand was shaking. It failed miserably either way due to Four being completely oblivious to his "hints". Not this time though.

SMG4: "Anyway, thanks, SMG3." [*takes a sip*] "Mhm, just what I needed, great as always, dude." [*goes back to his work*] SMG3: [*glances at the door, at Eggdog, before inhaling some courage*] "SM... No. Four, I need to talk to you about something." SMG4: [*looks at Three, puzzled*] "Uh, sure. What's up?" SMG3: "I... I don't know if there's going to be another tomorrow, but I need to tell you this. Either that, or I going to start regretting doing this and use the memory wiper on you again." [*and yeah, he muttered that last part*] SMG4: "SMG3?" SMG3: "Four... I'm in love with you."

Silence. ...please, don't go.

SMG3, averting his eyes: "I...I have for some time. I don't know when it all started but I guess it was back in the 'perfect' incident when I realized I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. And... those feelings have grown much more after that. I didn't say anything because I value our friendship, I do. I was willing to do whatever it takes to keep it that way. But, you have no idea how much I wanted to get it off my chest, to tell you this. I know this may be something out of the blue for you, all I ask is for you to take what I say as true. However you respond to this, I can take it. I understand if you want us to continue as friends. Or not, if that's what you wish..."

More silence. Please, say something. Anything.

Three has been avoiding seeing Four's face, terrified. If he took one look, his world would surely crumble. To heartbreak, to hope. It'd be best if he didn't know. He just wants Four to believe him.

SMG4: "...So the 'that person' everyone else was talking about, that was me all along?"

SMG3 slowly nods.

SMG4: "Heh, I thought I was the only one."

Three dares to finally look at SMG4. Four was smiling. Surprised, sure. But smiling.

SMG4: "I'm not sure when it started for me either. The 'perfect' incident, WOTFI 2023. But spending time with you made me realize a lot of things. That I enjoy it, that I wanted to be with you. Just being... us." [*takes Three's hands into his own*] "I... love you too. To be honest, I was also scared that you might not feel the same way." SMG3: "This... isn't a dream, is it?" SMG4: "No. It's not, I promise."

The two stared at each other for a moment, lost in the other's loving eyes, before they slowly closed the gap they had. A soft kiss they shared, and it was all Three needed to believe Four.

It didn't take them long for them to become a couple. In the weeks that followed, they planned out so many dates. Picnics, carnival days, movie nights. Watching sunsets, seeing stars. Just enjoying each other's company.

Being them.

And, of course, they tell the Crew about their relationship. "We knew" was what they responded. And then something about everyone owing Mario money from a bet. Three would roll his eyes at this but he couldn't care less. This was the happiest Three has ever been.

Four. His shooting star, his sweet prince. His boyfriend.

It felt wonderful and no one could take that from him.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Well, at least, that's what he thought.

If only he knew that he wasn't at home, in the Showgrounds. But rather, in a dark isolating room. Away from the rest of the world. With his limbs tangled in wires, he laid on a table. Unmoved, asleep. In the corner sat Mr Puzzles, looking through a monitor.

For a former villain, Puzzles expected Three to act on his wishes to be back to his past glory. Three said it himself, "I'm the best villain". So, he figured Three should be given a "chance". Puzzles kidnapped him on the night Three was debating on his final decision and put him in the simulation Puzzles created.

He figured that the simulation would be the push Three needed to be a villain again, destroy the Crew for Puzzles. Why put in the effort when they could do it to themselves? Besides, he's curious to see Three's face when his villainy phase fades away and realizes what he has done. Well, Puzzles would've.

Instead, he got.... this. Not exactly what he expected, but it was also risky to pull Three out of the simulation without creating suspicion. If SMG3 found out he was behind this... No, he couldn't let this happen. He'll just have to add something into the simulation to really push Three over the edge. Hmm, perhaps he could made the digital SMG4 hate him. Or better yet, kill him right off.

A flashing red light interrupts his thoughts, warning Puzzles of intruders entering his hideout. It was them. How...?

On the other side of the room, a tired Eggdog let out a hopeful bark from his cage. He knew Beeg4 must've found the message he left behind before he was caught by Mr Puzzles.

Augh, no matter, Mr Puzzles will just have to deal with them.

Outside, the Crew busted down the gate and built a buddy system to cover more ground. SMG4, the real one, turned on his flashlight.

SMG4: "Hang tight, Three. We'll get you home, I promise."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Mhm, what more could he ask from this?

Three looked down at Four, whose head was resting on his lap. Four kept his eyes closed as instructed by Three, he needed to relax away from his screen. Three was passing a hand through Four's hair. It was nice to just be the two of them here in the game room.

SMG3: "Can I go now?" SMG4: "Nope, you're stuck with me forever." SMG3: [*laughs, before going dramatic*] "Oh no, whatever should I do. Hmm, I guess that's what I get..." [*his hand stops*] SMG4: [*opens his right eye*] "Is something on your mind?" SMG3: "I just... I still can't believe you're my boyfriend." SMG4: [*opens both eyes*] "Well, no regrets on confessing?" SMG3: "I wouldn't change a thing." [*gives a kiss on his partner's forehead, continuing what he was doing*] "I'm glad you stayed." SMG4: "It's because of you I did."

Three hummed. Yep, he decided. He's definitely going to marry Four.

SMG3: "But, for real, can I get up? I want to grab something from the kitchen." SMG4: "Aw, party pooper." [*sits up, letting Three get off from the couch.*] SMG3: "Want anything?" SMG4: "Nah, I'm good."

SMG3 proceeded to head for the door but as soon as he went to grab the knob...

???: "SMG3! Can you hear me?" SMG3: "...Tari?"

Suddenly, the door was glitching, its shape distorting to an extreme.

SMG3: "What the...What's happening?"

The room followed suit, bits and pieces being replaced with a white void. Deleting itself.

SMG3: "Four, c'mon, we gotta get out of..."

When he turned around, he saw his partner calmly standing before him, unfazed by the chaos surrounding them. As if he was expecting this.

SMG3: "Four?" SMG4?: [*slowly taking Three's hand*] "No, Three. I'm not..." [*sighs*] "Remember back when you asked if this was a dream? I promised you then that it's not and I promise the same thing to you now. This isn't a dream. It's a simulation, created by the person who kidnapped you and put you here."

A beat. But the world waited for no one. Not even them.

SMG3: "...Who? Why?" SMG4?: "I don't have access to that information. I wish I could." [*looks at the growing cracks that peeked into the white void*] "Looks like your friends have found you and are taking you out of here."

SMG3 looks back at him, conflicted. He yearned for this life for so long, only for it to be a complete lie. Whoever placed him here was playing some kind of sick joke on him. Perhaps, it was too good to be true...

The two look down at their hands, only to see Four's hand fading away.

SMG4?, his voice starting to distort: "I'm just sorry it had to be this way. That you had to be part of it at all. But I will tell you this: a simulation can't be made out of nothing. Me, the Crew, everything, it's an exact copy of the real thing. What I'm trying to say is, don't let this bring you down. You've been through so much, Three. You deserve to love and to be loved. Your SMG4, the real one, does feel the same as you do. I would know." SMG3: "...What if it doesn't work out?" SMG4?: "Who knows? It happened once, it could happen again. Besides, remember what Melony said, you won't be alone. Your friends will still be there. And I'm sure he'll still be there too."

SMG3 pulls Four into a hug, leaving Four taken back by this. Sure, they've been dating for weeks, if you can even call it that, but usually when people find out this is a simulation, they would leave. They try to forget. Four smiles and hugs back. He should've known better with SMG3. In the middle of the hurricane of deleting pixels and code, there they were with tears silently falling down their cheeks.

SMG4?: "Promise me something: Don't lose the same courage you had when you confessed your feelings to me." SMG3, nods: "I promise." SMG4?: "Goodbye, Three..."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3 let out a gasp, his lungs searching for air, as if he was swimming underwater for a long time. He covered his face with his arm, his eyes unable to stand the bright lights.

"SMG3!" "Thank gosh, you're okay!" "Guys, quiet down, he just got out of the simulation."

He could feel several hands helping him sit up from what seemed like a table. He wanted to speak but instead let out a harsh cough, his tongue feeling like sandpaper.

"Woah woah, take it easy. It's okay, you're safe."

He knew that voice. A familiar hand grabbed his, a thumb rubbing his knuckles in comfort.

"He looks so pale." "Dude, it's been weeks." "We should get him to the hospital." "Who did this to him?" "Whoever it was, they got away."

Slowly, Three's senses were coming back, and he immediately turned to the one who comforted him. Four. Three wanted to reach out, be in Four's arms. To let Four kiss him. Let Four tell him "I'm here". But he stopped himself.

It's the real SMG4, not his Four.

Melony took Eggdog out of his cage and handed him to Three, who comforted his son with a tight hug.

Mario: "SMG3, are you okay?" SMG3, his voice dry: "Yeah, I'm fine. Really." SMG4: "Then, why are you crying? Did something happen in the simulation?"

Three reached to touch his face. Four wasn't wrong about that. He swiped the tears away with his gloved hand.

SMG3: "Nothing. Nothing at all."

The Crew looked at each other, unsure of how to respond. Four didn't either, but he gave Three's hand a squeeze.

SMG4: "C'mon, let's go home."

SMG3 could only nod. With a bit of help, SMG4 and Mario carried Three with their arms while the Crew followed behind. Three looked over his shoulder, seeing the simulation contraption completely destroyed, before leaving the hideout for good.

Goodbye, Four.

[ryuzakemo128]

Mary on a Cross

Pairing: Ghost x Gaz x Female Siberian Tiger Hybrid

Genre: Smut + Fluff

Words: 2475

Masterlist

Credit for dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: "Your beauty never ever scared me"

“Go away,” said the young mistress of the vale. A simple request. A simple demand coming from a woman who did not wish for them to remain in her home.

How could she? No. How dare she demand such a thing. With her pretty waist, her plush thighs are juicy enough for his hands. He could have taken her without delay. Regardless of how her husband would have felt about it.

“They say you are a mistress. But I do not see how you could even be one if you have a husband waiting for you back at home.”

You left your audiobook on by accident. An erotic tale you have been listening to since the night before. Hooked on it before you heard the two men saunter into your bedroom like they owned the place.

You were too focused on your lewd pornographic audiobook and the pornographic drawing you were doing at your desk. Your drawings ranged from monochrome to colourful.

Sketches, Outlines, Rough drafts and final ‘masterpieces.’ Ghost looked at the ones framed on your bedroom wall; Gaz sat on the side of your bed as you continued to sketch. Swapping to different coloured pencils, completely unaware of the two men inside your bedroom.

Drawings of people in various locations, places, and situations. Each one raunchier than the previous. Each subsequent, successive stroke of your pencils, adding layers of erotic desire to the drawing.

Ghost stepped closer to you, his shadow cast over your desk as you drew, the light from the setting sun giving him an ominous presence. “What’s this?” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck, a finger tracing the outline of a particularly explicit scene. You felt your cheeks flush as your hand faltered.

“Nothing for you to worry about. I assure you. It is just harmless drawings, no more, no less.” You stammered, your hand shaking slightly. Without looking up into his deep brown eyes.

You knew all the willpower built up inside you would dissipate and fritter away the moment you looked up at him.

“Is that so?” Gaz’s voice was low and thick with amusement. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your face as he leaned in to get a closer look. “You’ve got quite the imagination, haven’t you?”

“When you have as much free time as me, you get plenty of time to practice.” You swallowed the intense arousal, the intense feeling of excitement you felt building up inside the depths of your core. “It’s not like I can walk around the base willy-nilly now, can I?”

You hoped they would get bored with you and plough into one of those bunny hybrids everyone loves so much. Or even a puppy. Either way, you just wanted them out. But no, they remained steadfast in their mission to ruin your afternoon.

Ghost leaned closer, his eyes scanning your artwork with a predatory gaze. The tension grew thick in the air as his finger hovered over one of your favourite pieces—a depiction of a Siberian tigress in the throes of passion with a human soldier. “This looks... familiar.”

“I doubt it. There could be a million things it looks like. You could be thinking of one of them.” You simply shrugged, hoping the curiosity burning inside them both would die out. Now rather than sometime later.

“No, no, no. This...this is different. This tigress... she has a look in her eyes. A hunger, a passion that I have seen before.”

“I’m sure your bunny girls have given you that look in particular many times before, Ghost.” You mused as you kept your eyes on the picture you continued to put together.

Ghost smirks at the remark, “Those rabbits don’t have half the fire you do.” He said as he reached for the picture and pulled it closer to him. You felt a sudden urge to snatch it away, but you had to play it cool.

“Says you, I’ve had to hear it multiple times in the past. And I say differently.” You quipped. “Nevertheless, I have been hit on by various of them previously, I, for one, are sure they're ashamed about it now. At least I reckon they would be.”

How you remembered the bunny hybrids reacting to you was far, far different from how Ghost or Gaz remembered it. You presumed it was done to get you to back off or something.

However, from the perspective of both Ghost and Gaz, it is more or less etched into their mind. How the bunny hybrids would look at you. A mix of both envy and lust. You were oblivious to it. Always were when it came to it sometimes. Painfully so now and then.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t pick up the hints of sexual interest if your mind is preoccupied with something else. Whether it was food, a nap, or even a nice warm shower.

Not hard to assume you never were one to pick up on someone else’s interest in you. Especially in that manner.

“Oh- I haven’t done anything like that with another person” You stammered, your face flushed. “I’ve mostly done it by myself at 2 in the morning while everyone else is fast asleep.”

Gaz saw your six-inch pink tentacle glass dildo in your bedside table’s third drawer on the left-hand side of your bed.

He smirks and pulls it out with a flourish, “Looks like you’ve been practising without us, huh?” He says with a knowing look in his eye.

“Is it really practising when you’re alone in your bed at two o’clock in the morning?” you mused with a raised eyebrow. “Is it really practising if you don’t aim for experiencing the real thing? Riddle me that, Sherlock. Also, I don’t have a husband. The woman in the audiobook does. I don’t. Don’t get that bit confused.”

Ghost chuckled, his eyes never leaving the picture, “I think she’s got a point, Gaz. Maybe we should leave the poor girl to her fantasies.”

You sighed, only somewhat relieved, somewhat excited to masturbate as soon as they head out the door. Well, not immediately after they leave. But sometime after they leave, when your mind is still working in overdrive.

The moment they left you alone in your bedroom, you steadily walked back into your regular routine.

What?

Did they think you’d pause your routine for their sake?

It would be like asking the pope for the recipe for a good ol’ fashioned meatloaf. Sure, he could do it.

But why would he?

But your mind was racing with the images they had planted in your head. You hadn’t even had a chance to react to Gaz’s proposition. Did they actually expect you to put on a show for them? The audacity. You didn't know what that even entailed. Why would they assume you knew how to please another person?

‘Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin.’  You kept forcing yourself to remember. You had never had sexual interactions with another individual.

How do you even begin with that sort of thing?

You've seen people do it in the porn you secretly watched in your barracks when no one was around. But that's not the same as doing it with actual people.

That's like watching Gordon Ramsey cook and then trying to whip up a soufflé for the first time. Sure, you know the ingredients and steps, but it's never going to come out perfect.

But as you sit down, you can't help but feel a tingling in your loins. The way Gaz's hand felt on your hip, the way Ghost's breath tickled your neck.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. But they linger like a stubborn fog in the morning.

The glass dildo in your bedside table beckoned you, the itch you wanted to scratch harder than you had before loomed in the back of your mind. Like an untamed beast. Urging you to give into it further.

While you masturbated later that night, as the door creaked upon as you were about to orgasm a second time, and you were met with the sight of Ghost standing in the doorway, watching you with a knowing smirk on his face.

Your body froze as your mind raced.

You weren't sure if you should be embarrassed or if this was a common occurrence around here.

“Couldn’t help but hear your little… solo performance from down the hall.” He said with a smugness that could cut glass. “You really have been practising, haven’t you?”

“I don't practice, remember?” you quipped.

Ghost leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “It's a shame, really. With talent like that, you'd think you'd want to share it.”

You snort, “I mastered the solo dance, not the duet, darling” You continue stroking yourself, not missing a beat, watching his reaction closely. His smirk grew wider as his eyes remained glued to your movements. “Besides, how would I even ask about that?”

“Well, you could always just ask.” He stepped into the room, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards, his eyes never leaving yours. “We're not that hard to approach, you know.”

“But that sounds so weird.” you mused with a frown taking the glass dildo out of your wet cunt.

Ghost chuckled darkly, “You think what we do is any less weird?” He saunters closer, his movements as graceful as a panther stalking its prey. “We've seen worse, trust me.”

“For me its just another day. I don't see how weird it is. Sexual things with another person however? Different ballgame, a different tune I don't recognise and an entire song I don't know lyrics to.” you stated.

Ghost's smirk grew more prominent. “You're telling me you've never thought about it?”

“Thought about it? Odd occasion. Never followed through with it though. Always chickened out after thinking about it enough to remember, 'I don't know what I'm supposed to say.' And I never went through with it again afterwards.” You answered.

The room was silent, except for the sound of your hand moving against the glass toy. The anticipation was palpable, thick like the heat that clung to your skin. You could feel your cheeks flush as you met Ghost's gaze.

“I see,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “Well, maybe it's time to learn a new tune, then.” He stepped closer to the bed, his boots coming into view as you sat there, exposed and vulnerable.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the thump-thump echoing in your ears like a drumline at a football match. You set the dildo aside and leaned back against the pillows, crossing your arms over your breasts. “What are you suggesting?”

“I'm suggesting,” Ghost began, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through the air, “that we help you... overcome your shyness.” He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to touch the silk of your robe. “We're all friends here, after all.”

You felt a mix of fear and excitement as Gaz’s hand slid under the fabric, his rough fingers grazing against your soft skin. You gasped as he pushed the robe aside, revealing your naked body to both men. Their gazes roved over you like predators eyeing a fresh meal, making you feel more exposed than you ever had in your life.

“Beautiful,” Gaz murmured, his hand moving to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and you couldn’t help but part them slightly, feeling the heat of his touch. Ghost’s hand had already found its way to your other thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that made you squirm.

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Ghost whispered into your ear. His finger traced your jawline back and forth, like you were going to slip right through his fingers again.

Capturing lips with his own, your soft, plump, delicious lips right onto his. A right recipe for disaster, some might say. A tornado of intense desire wrapped in flesh. His hand gripping your plush thigh, pulling you closer to his warmth.

Taking one leg aside to slide his index and ring finger to your moist depths between your thighs.

Kyle whined, wanting to have a taste of you for himself. Nudging Simon a few times before he finally relented. Kyle pressed his lips against yours as Simon continued to finger your warm, tight, pussy.

Selfishly, Simon grabs your chin to force you to look into his eyes as Kyle's cock continues to fill up your moist pussy.

The warmth of Simon's breath sends shivers down your spine as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a fiery passion that could only come from a man who's seen the darkest corners of the world.

His hand, now coated with your slickness, slides up to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll back in your head.

His hand, now coated with your slickness, slides up to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll back in your head.

The dual sensation of his digits inside you and Kyle's thick shaft pumping in and out is a symphony of pleasure you never knew existed.

You've never felt so alive, so in tune with your body, as if it's been waiting for this very moment to come alive. The way they touch you, the way they kiss you, it's like nothing you've ever experienced before.

The two men knew they'd want to do this again, and soon. They could feel the electricity in the room as they pulled away from your lips, panting. You lay there, stunned, your heart racing as you felt their hands roam over your body. They weren’t rough, but firm and confident. They knew what they were doing. And it was driving you wild.

You were seeing stars, and you know you now have a source of artistic inspiration you didn't think you'd like so much.

You three collapsed into your bed nook by the end of the night. All too eager to have you sleep there instead of Price's bed.

Price wouldn't mind if you were with Simon and Gaz right?

Ghost whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his breath warm and comforting.

His hand found its way under the blanket, tracing patterns on your bare skin.

You felt your heart flutter at his gentle touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of earlier.

Sandwiched between two men. And you didn't particularly mind it at all. You were going to be a tad more vocal about what you want from this point forward.

Which to these two?

You felt a strange sense of comfort between the two men, their bodies warm and solid against yours. It was a stark contrast to the lonely nights you'd spent with just your dildo and your imagination for company.

And.

You knew they were right.

You liked it.

Tagged: @simons-bambi

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

I just think, the idea that Disha is lying about Kyoshi's honor and stuff to put some kind of wedge between Roku and Kyoshi would be really cool and spy-y and would fit really well with the weird Cold War-eque/espionage that Roku's era seems to want to emulate. It'd be a cool way of making him doubt himself without realizing he's doubting himself.

And it'd also force a parallel between Roku/Kyoshi and Kyoshi/Kuruk. How, while Kuruk appeared in RoK and Kyoshi didn't have the best opinion of him, really ramped up in her sequel novel to the point she wanted to fucking brawl him. The way it's set up now, Roku's timidness and confusion with Kyoshi could easily fester into the same hatred and want to confront her in Roku's sequel novel too.

And I'm also just grasping at straws but I just really fucking hate how RR is trying to drag Kyoshi through the gd mud. And like it just doesn't work with the knowledge we already know about her and he could've done something (anything really, he didn't utilize her at all) else with her character in Rokus era that would've better explored... and I'm also a bit of a bitter bitch about it. tbh

[bidokja]

I was joking a while back that the actor they have playing KDJ for the orv movie was too handsome for him and a friend who's read orv was like "KDJ is actually secretly attractive!!" And I just felt my soul leave my body right then

SIGHS...

Okay. Buckle in. I'm gonna finally actually address and explain and theorize about this whole...thing.

I'm not gonna cite any exact chapters cause it's like 11:30 and I've got an 8 hour drive in the morning but I'll at least make an approximate reference to where certain things are mentioned. Also, this post is just my personal interpretation for a good bit of it, but it's an interpretation I feel very solid about, so do with that what you will. Moving on to the meat of things:

There is one (1) instance in the web novel that I know of which describes specific features of Kim Dokja (especially ones other people notice). This takes place when members of KimCom are trying to make Kim Dokja presentable to give his speech at the Industrial Complex (after it's been plopped down on Earth). This is when they start really paying attention and focusing on Kim Dokja's appearance since they're putting makeup on him; I still don't think they can interpret his whole face, but they can accurately pick out and retain more features than usual. If I remember correctly they reference him having long eyelashes, smooth skin, and soft hair. These features can be viewed as (stereotypically) attractive.

Certain parts of the fandom have taken this scene and run with it at a very surface level, without realizing (or without acknowledging at the very least) that this scene is not about how Kim Dokja looks. This is, in part, due to not realizing or acknowledging why Kim Dokja's face is "censored" in the first place, and what that censoring actually means. I think it's also possible that some people are assuming the censorship works like a physical phenomena rather than an altered perception.

I'll address that last point first. The censorship of Kim Dokja's features is not something as simple as a physical phenomena. It's not a bar or scribble or mosaic over his face. If that were true it'd be very obvious to anyone looking at him that his face is hidden. But his face is not hidden to people. They can look at him and see a face. If they concentrate on his eyes, they can see where he's looking. They know when he's frowning or grinning. They see a face loud and clear. But what face are they seeing? Because it's not really his, whatever they're seeing.

No one quite agrees on what he really looks like. And if they try and think about what he looks like, they can't recall. Or if they do, it's vague, or different each time. We notice these little details throughout the series. Basically, Kim Dokja's face is cognitively obscured. Something - likely the Fourth Wall, though I can't recall if this is ever stated outright - is interfering with everyone's ability to perceive him properly. This culminated in him feeling off to others; and since they don't even realize this is happening, they surmise that he is "ugly."

Moving on to the other point about what the censorship means: To be blunt, the censorship of his face is an allegory for his disconnect from the "story" (aka: real life, and the real people at his side). The lifting - however slight - of this censorship represents him becoming more and more a part of the "story" (aka: less disconnected from the life he is living and the people at his side). The censorship's existence and lifting can represent other things - like dissociation or depersonalization or, if you want to get really meta, the fact that he is all of our faces at once - but that's how I'd sum up the main premise of it. (The Fourth Wall is a larger part of the dissociation allegory, but that's for another post).

So you see, them noticing his individual features isn't about the features. It's not about the features! It doesn't matter at all which features got listed. Because they could describe any features whatsoever and it would not change the entire point of the scene. Because the point isn't what he looks like. The point is that they can truly and clearly see these features. For the first time. They are seeing parts of him for the first time. Re-read that sentence multiple times, literally and metaphorically. What does it mean to see someone as they are?

This is an extremely significant turning point dressed up as a dress-up scene.

---

P.S. / Additionally, I'm of the opinion that Kim Dokja is not handsome, and he is not ugly. He is not pretty, and he is not ghastly. Not attractive, nor unattractive. Kim Dokja isn't any of these things. More importantly, Kim Dokja can't be any of these things. The entire point of Kim Dokja is that you cannot pick him out of a crowd; he is the crowd. He's a reader. He's the reader. Why does he need to be handsome? Why must he be pretty? Why is him being attractive necessary or relevant? He doesn't, he doesn't, it's not. He is someone deeply deeply loved and irreplaceable to those around him, and someone who cannot even begin to recognize or accept that unless it's through a love letter masquerading as a story he can read. He is the crowd, a reader, the reader. He's you, he's me. He's every single one of us.

[yeleltaan]

Here we are– you are the first of the 4 in which I completed. MSpaint spooky/thoughtful Cayin doodle. It was fun deciding on what to do. Hope you enjoy, Croc. Hope you don’t mind that I was feeling BB Cayin <3

// AAAAAAAAAAAHHH this is so lovely!! You nail his style perfectly, this came out so cool. Thank you Cat!!

[warrior-of-sunlight]

Going to the emergency vet with Helmer in half an hour, he seems to have a mass in his stomach and isn't feeling well. He is also having diarrhoea and pees a lot. Thought it was the warmer weather at first because he is known to have an upset stomach then, but the mass is concerning. Hoping this is going to be an expensive fart and not something life threatening, keeping my fingers crossed.

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. ���All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! Could you please write something for Spencer where r is used to men being like really loud and rough and all that (maybe bc of her father or smth) and just her getting used to how gentle Spencer is and almost thinking it’s too good to be true?

Thank you for requesting angel <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 905 words

It happens when you’re still half asleep. You fumble for your phone on Spencer’s nightstand, your alarm chiming, and knock a picture frame off instead. You’re fully awake by the time you hear the sound of glass shattering against the floor. 

You mumble a curse. Spencer hums questioningly into his pillow. 

You get down from the bed, managing to step over the glass, but you’re not thinking clearly enough. When you sink onto your knees, little shards prick the skin. You pick the frame up carefully. It’s a picture of Spencer and his mom. An old one, of her chasing a three or four-year-old Spencer around someone’s yard. They’re both laughing, her arms outstretched towards him and his face turning to look over his shoulder. It’s obviously a sentimental photo. 

Your cursing intensifies, though you keep it internal now. You feel awful. 

Spencer’s head appears over the edge of the bed as you’re scraping the glass into a pile. His eyes are half-open, expression still weighted with drowsiness. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

There’s no accusation in his tone, but you feel suddenly teary. You haven’t fought with Spencer yet, and you weren’t expecting to be yelled at first thing this morning. You suppose you’ve earned it, though. 

“Spence, I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I—I knocked over your picture. The frame broke. I feel awful, I’ll get you a new one o—or I can replace the glass if the frame is important to you.” 

“What?” Spencer blinks, brows furrowed as though he’s having trouble grasping this. “No, it’s—stop. Don’t do that.” 

You still, looking up at him hesitantly with your hands cupped around the glass pile. “What do you want me to do?” 

“You can’t clean glass up with your hands.” He shuffles his way out from under the covers, taking a big step over the class to stand behind you. His hands wrap around your elbows. “Get away from there.” 

His tone conveys some upset, but not nearly as much as you were prepared for. And his grip on your arms is gentle. You can’t make sense of it. 

You let him guide you into the bathroom, sitting up on the counter when he prompts you. Spencer takes your hands in his, looking them over and brushing his fingers lightly across your palms before determining there’s no glass in them. His eyes skim you over. When they land on your knees, his expression pinches. 

“Why did you do this?” You expect him to grasp your knee roughly, but his fingers wrap around it with care, thumb rubbing over the soft underside as though to soothe you. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” you say softly. “I feel so bad about the picture with your mom, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Spencer sounds surprised. His eyes flit up to yours, soft brown, curious. “I can get a new frame. You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” 

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Your voice drops to a murmur as Spencer bends down, opening a drawer to take out first aid supplies. 

He pulls each tiny piece of glass from your knees with heart-aching care. One hand stays on the back of whichever knee he’s working on, to steady him and to comfort you, and it’s a slow, attentive, tender process. Gradually, a realization seeps into you. 

Spencer isn’t going to blow up at you. Maybe someday, but not about this, not over just anything. You’re not sure how you could have been so expectant of someone who’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you turning harsh and forceful at the first upset. 

You don’t even wince as Spencer cleans up your knees. He’s careful to give you no reason to, every touch considerate and sweet. He straightens after smoothing bandages over the cuts, still holding your lower thighs in his hands. 

“That wasn’t a very nice way to wake up,” he says. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, but you hold your arms out for a hug anyway. 

Spencer’s happy to oblige you, his hips fitting between your legs and palms sliding across your back. He smells like sleep. You hook your chin over his shoulder, contentment filling your belly like warm honey. 

“You seemed upset,” he murmurs, a question if you choose to answer it. 

“I was nervous,” you admit. “I thought you’d be mad.” 

“For knocking the frame over?”

“Mhm. I still feel really bad.” 

Spencer draws a line between your shoulders. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do it on purpose.” 

You hum. “You’re a lot less loud than most guys, do you know that?” 

He pauses. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” You pull away from him, cradling his face in your hand. “I’m just not used to it, is all. I keep expecting you to yell at me, but that doesn’t seem like it’s really your thing.” 

“I guess I don’t think of it as my thing,” Spencer agrees, mouth curving as he repeats your words. “My mom says I was always a quiet kid. I guess I just never thought yelling would get me anywhere.” 

“Don’t start.” You grin, and his cheek dimples under your palm. “I like you like this.” 

“Okay, I’ll try not to.” He tilts his face into your touch. His hands drop back to your knees, skimming down the unharmed sides next to the bandages. “And you shouldn’t get angry at yourself on my behalf anymore, either.”

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Baby Daddy || Jacob Elordi x reader

Summary: Jacob being a protective dad 😌

Warnings: fem!reader

Wc: 475

A/n: can we just agree that Jacob holding a small baby in his HUGE arms would be the cutest and hottest thing ever 😃😭 I need to see this irl. Posting a Coryo fic later today!!! Also really need to do a Jacob Elordi masterlist lol, will do later today!

Emerging from the grocery store, you held bags in both hands while Jacob effortlessly juggled your one-year-old daughter in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other.

The California sun casts a warm glow as you make your way to the car, Jacob holding your precious daughter, Sydney, in his strong arms. His large frame makes her appear even tinier as he cradles her close.

As you approach the car, Jacob’s keen eyes spot a group of paparazzi in the distance. He instinctively shields Sydney’s face, a protective gesture you’ve both mastered in these public moments.

Jacob glances at you, concern in your eyes, “We should be fine, they’re far away anyways,” Jacob assures you as you unlock the car.

As Jacob secures Sydney in the car seat, you glance over at the paparazzi. Some of them notice Jacob’s protective actions and start snapping pictures even more eagerly.

You could feel their invasive gaze, but your focus remained on Sydney, shielding her from the intrusive lenses from the front seat of the car.

As Jacob buckled up your daughter, he could sense you were uncomfortable, glancing at the paparazzi from time to time. He knew how much it meant to you to keep Sydney’s upbringing away from cameras as much as possible.

“I’m going to go talk to them,” Jacob says as you look at him with surprise. “Are you sure?” You lightly bite your lip as he nods, “Yeah, I’ll be quick,” Is all he says before he shuts the door.

You watch as Jacob makes his way to the group of paparazzi. You couldn’t hear what was being said of course but they seemed understanding about what Jacob was saying to them.

Jacob approached the group with a calm but firm demeanour. “Hey guys, I’m not sure if you’re aware but Y/n and I want to keep our daughter away from the public eyes as much as possible. And I know this is your job but could you please make sure to blur out Sydney’s face in the photos you’ve taken?”

One of the paparazzi’s, seemingly more considerate than the rest, responded, “Sure thing, Jacob. I don’t think we managed to photograph your daughter’s face,” He and the others all take a look through the photo’s they’ve taken whilst showing Jacob.

“But if we find one, we’ll make sure her face is blurred. No problem.” The man says as Jacob nods. “I appreciate it. Have a good day guys.”

As Jacob walked back to the car, you exchanged a relieved glance. As he climbs into the car, you felt a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion from the constant vigilance required to protect your family’s privacy.

You intertwine your hands with Jacob’s, expressing your gratitude, “Thank you for handling that.” A grateful smile adorns your face as he grins, bringing your intertwined hands close to his face and gently kissing your hand.

“Of course, I don’t need to think twice about doing something like that to protect Sydney,” Jacob affirms. He adjusts the rearview mirror, stealing a glance at Sydney in her car seat. Her curious eyes are fixed on the window, captivated by the passing palm trees.

Later that day, you were sent a tweet from Jacob’s sister. It’s from one of the paparazzi who interacted with Jacob earlier. The post details the encounter and emphasises Jacob’s kindness in handling the situation.

The tweet read, “Just had a run-in with Jacob Elordi, and gotta say, he’s one of the nicest celebs I’ve encountered. Asked us to blur out his daughter’s face, and even though we’re paparazzi, he handled it with grace. Big respect for him!”

As you read through the comments, you couldn’t help but smile at the overwhelming support from Jacob’s fans. Messages of admiration for his commitment to Sydney’s privacy flooded the comment section.

yourusername

Liked by jacobelordi, caileespaeny, hbo, zendaya, sydney_sweeney and 10,937,274 others

👶🍼💗💋🧸

view all comments

jacobelordi: love you both so much ❤️

↘️ yourusername: 💗

caileespaeny: aweee

sydney_sweeney: I need to see little Syd like rn 😭

↘️ yourusername: your godchild misses you!

↘️ user1: Is anyone just finding out now that Sydney Sweeney is the the god mother of Jacob Elordi and Y/n Y/l/n’s daughter 😃

↘️ user2: I mean, it kinda makes sense ngl. Y/n and Sydney are childhood besties and then she names her own kid after her best friend.

user3: sometimes I forget Jacob Elordi isn’t single and has a child

user4: those recent pictures of him holding Sydney is doing something to me 🙂

↘️ user5: RIGHT!

↘️ user6: oh for sure.

[autogyne-redacted]

Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy

It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.

Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:

Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:

First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.

Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested). Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable, and even if charges don't stick, they're an easy vector for legal harassment.

Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.

It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.

The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.

Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.