#only for it to not be different and them still getting tired of me in the end

[gracie-eilish]

my love🫂

an: here ya goooo sweet pea☺️

it’s a little shortttttt but i hope u still like it :)

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a soft navy hue across the Malibu sky. The ocean outside your window whispered gentle waves against the shore, a lullaby indifferent to the chaos of the day. But inside your cozy home, the quiet was heavy—not peaceful, but dense, like the air before a storm.

You’d sensed it the moment Billie walked through the door. Her usual energy—whether it was playful teasing or tired warmth—was absent, replaced by a hollow stillness. She didn’t greet you with her typical grin or pull you into one of those lazy hugs she loved, where her arms draped over your shoulders and she’d nuzzle her face into your neck. No, today was different.

She kicked off her shoes with more force than necessary, dropped her bag unceremoniously by the door, and mumbled something about needing a minute. You watched her retreat down the hall, your heart tightening with each step she took away from you.

You gave her space for a little while, knowing Billie could be like that—internalizing, trying to sort through her feelings before sharing them. But as the minutes ticked by, the knot in your chest grew. You couldn’t ignore it. Not when the person you loved most was unraveling behind a closed door.

Quietly, you padded down the hall and found her sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, her back against the side of the bed, knees drawn up to her chest. She wasn’t crying—yet. But her face was tense, her jaw clenched like she was holding the universe inside, refusing to let it spill out. Her fingers fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie—your hoodie, actually, one she’d stolen weeks ago because it smelled like you.

“Baby,” you whispered gently, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and that was it. The dam broke.

A sob escaped her lips, sudden and sharp, like it had been clawing to get out all day. She didn’t try to fight it this time. She didn’t apologize or explain. She just crumpled forward, falling into your arms with the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

You caught her without hesitation, wrapping your arms around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face into your shoulder. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, raw and unfiltered, like she’d been holding them in for too long.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between cries, her fingers clutching desperately at your shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. “I don’t—I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m just—everything feels too much today.”

“Oh, honey,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. Just let it out. I’ve got you.”

And you did. You held her like you’d never let go, rocking her gently, your cheek resting against her hair. You whispered soft reassurances, the kind of words stitched with warmth and safety.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me, okay? You’re safe.”

She clung tighter, her sobs ragged and desperate, pouring out all the frustration she’d tried to bury.

“It was just—everything,” she hiccuped. “I spilled coffee all over myself this morning, then the interview was a mess, and I—I felt like an idiot. And people were just… so mean today. About everything. My music, my face, even the way I talk. I thought I could handle it, but—”

Her voice cracked again, dissolving into more tears.

“Shh, baby, I’m here. None of that matters right now. Just me and you, okay? You’re not an idiot. You’re the smartest, kindest, most talented person I know. And you’re allowed to have bad days.”

She sniffled, her fingers tightening around the fabric of your shirt like she was afraid you might disappear.

“But I should be stronger. I shouldn’t let stupid stuff get to me like this.”

You pulled back just enough to cup her face in your hands, gently brushing away the tears streaking down her cheeks with your thumbs. Her eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and filled with so much sadness it made your heart ache.

“Billie, listen to me,” you said softly but firmly. “Strong doesn’t mean you never break down. Strong means you’re brave enough to feel it. To let it out. You don’t have to hold it all in just to prove something. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

Her lips trembled, more tears spilling over as she whispered, “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know, baby. I know.” You pulled her back into your arms, her head resting over your heart. “But you’re not alone. I’m right here. I’ll hold you as long as you need. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

She melted even further into you, her sobs gradually softening into quiet sniffles. You ran your fingers through her hair, your other hand tracing gentle circles on her back.

After a while, you shifted, guiding her onto the bed. She curled up beside you, her head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your heart as if grounding herself in the rhythm. You kept whispering to her, soft and soothing.

“Do you feel a little better?” you murmured, brushing her hair from her face.

She nodded slightly, her voice small. “Yeah… just tired now.”

“That’s okay, baby. Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt now, calmer but still needing that small connection.

“For what?”

“For being my safe place.”

Your heart swelled, a warmth blooming in your chest that no bad day could ever touch. You kissed the top of her head, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world—because to you, she was.

“Always, my love,” you whispered. “Always.”

And as she drifted to sleep in your arms, her face peaceful at last, you realized that love wasn’t just about the good days. It was about being the person someone could fall apart with, knowing you’d help them put the pieces back together.

You were her safe place. And she was yours.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Can you write a fanfic (only if you're comfortable of course) pairing kang dae-ho x f!reader, during the lights out. Basically they've developed a really strong connection since the beggining, and she's sleeping next to him while he's looking out for others (ok he's just basically watching you sleep). But you shift your position while sleeping and he sees sh scars on your wrist, and folds your sleeves and he sees multiple cuts and scars. You wake up from the motions and you see him with teary eyes and then you start to cry a lot, like having a panic attack and he comforts you and it's just a lot of fluff basically. (the reason from your cuts can be because you're deeply depressed and you're coping that way since you're 15 but at 21 you still do it)

But, if you don't feel comfortable writing about sh can you please write one also during the light out when dae-ho is on the look out and the reader is trying to sleep, but she's so scared of what's going to happen that she starts crying, he notices it, she has a panic attack and he pulls her to his lap comforting her (again really fluffy).

I'm almost one year clean so I was craving this kind of comfort, thank you <3

Your wish is my command 🫡 (sorry so cheesy)

Creature Comforts

Kang Dae-ho x reader

CW: mentions of self harm, please please do not read if you’re not comfortable with this!!, fluff and comfort

So happy to get this request - my first one!! Please send any in if you have them, I love writing them <3 And please message me if you’re having thoughts about SH or struggling with it at all, my DMs are always open 🩷

Masterlist | AO3

She looked so peaceful when she slept. She was curled up on the mattress beside where he was keeping guard, her chest rising and falling with each breath. It was mesmerising. Her hair was fanned out across the pillow, some straying into her face, strands lying delicately on her cheek. The lower half of her body was covered with a thin blanket, her top half cuddled into her jumper.

He had never seen her this calm. They had gotten close quickly in these games - the fear and horror acting as a catalyst for friendship - and he found himself getting protective over her fast. They’d first met after the first game, when Thanos and his lackey had approached her to join their little group, and he’d felt the inexplicable urge to tell him she was already spoken for. Surprisingly, she agreed with him quickly, saying she had already made her allies and hurried quickly away from that purple-haired joke. She thanked him wholeheartedly when they were out of earshot, confirming that there was something about him that made her uncomfortable so she appreciated being saved (her words, not his.) They had been inseparable since - sharing meals, sticking together in games, voting together, even bunking next to each other. When Gi-hun said that two people should always be keeping watch tonight, they didn’t even have to say they would take their shift together - it was just assumed.

But when the time came, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. She looked ethereal in the dim light of the room, her hair like a halo, the sound of her breathing a symphony to his ears. Soothing. He could watch her for hours, totally enthralled and at peace. His hand moved to brush a piece of hair from her face, feeling the softness of the lock between his fingers, fingertips lingering just a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek. So he just sat beside her. He wasn’t tired yet; he could take her shift. Anything to protect her really. A few extra hours can be the difference between life and death here.

The rise and fall of her body suddenly changed rhythm, a deep sigh escaping her lips. She rolled over in her sleep to face him, and he held his breath, scared that the smallest shift might wake her. She settled back in quickly though, and he watched with a soft smile as her arms fell beside her body, head snuggling into the pillow.

He wanted to wake up like this every morning, hearing her gentle sighs and soft snores, to see the peace on her face before she woke. He had only known her a few days, but it felt like a lifetime when they spent every minute fearing for their life. He felt so unbelievably protective of her so fast. He didn’t think she was incapable of handling herself - she’d proven the opposite through this ordeal. But he didn’t want her to have to worry about that ever again. As soon as they were out of there, he would do anything to make sure she wasn’t scared ever again.

Her hair had fallen across her face again, and in the dim light, he worked carefully to move it, tucking it gently behind her ear. Then he noticed her blankets falling down a little, pooling around her waist, so he pulled it up to her shoulders. Then the cuff of her jacket was slipping, so he gently grabbed the fabric, moving to fix her sleeve, when he noticed something. There were a few scars there, barely noticeable in the dim light of the room, so he allowed his curiosity and protective nature get the better of him. Ever so cautiously, he slipped her sleeve down just a little, just enough to see the scars that littered her forearms. Some were newer than others, others long since healed, but they were unmistakable.

His heart hurt for her. Life in these games was hard enough, but he could only imagine what awaited her outside to have to…

He wasn’t sure what to do. If he addressed it, he might lose her trust. She might get embarrassed that he knew and withdraw. If he didn’t, and she somehow worked out that he knew, she would think he didn’t care.

It wasn’t something he understood completely - a few of his friends from the military struggled with self-harm, but he didn’t tend to ask them too many questions. They had PTSD, so maybe she had that too? Or something else that was making her hurt badly enough to… all he really knew was that she didn’t have any healthy avenues to alleviate her stress and emotion. He wanted to help, to hold her and tell her everything would always be okay around him, that she shouldn’t ever hurt herself again… but he knew that was condescending and naive. What he really needed to do was let her talk to him if he wanted, listen, and if there was anyway she wanted him to help, he would…

His plans were foiled though, as she woke slowly, eyes blinking open. He was lost in thought, fingers still hooked around her cuff, and he was frozen as her eyes widened, locking on her arms and where his skin was against her. She started to back away, shuffling quickly as she adjusted, fear taking over her features.

“What’re you…” she muttered quietly, pulling her sleeves back to her hands as tears started to form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he blurted out quickly, face turning red. “You turned over and I saw something so I was curious, I didn’t mean to wake you I… I’m so sorry.” She had pulled her knees to her chest, shaking slightly. “Hey, listen to me, it’s ok, it’s all ok, I…” he slowed down when he realised she was crying, her whole body heaving with deep, pained breaths, her hands fisting the blankets around her. He muttered her name quietly, but she didn’t respond, her legs falling down as her breathing got more and more erratic.

Oh God, he’d ruined everything.

***

It had happened so quickly. One minute you were asleep, the next, you opened your eyes to see Dae-ho beside you. At first, you were happy just to see him, his face and demeanour and everything about him a comfort to you throughout this game. Then you noticed the way he was looking at you. A mixture of pain and confusion and worry was contorted across his face, and then you saw where he was looking.

Your sleeve must had rolled in your sleep, and he was looking at your now bare wrist, his fingers softly brushing against it. You snatched her arm away quickly, fear clouding your mind as you shuffled back.

He had seen.

Oh God, I’ve ruined everything.

There was no questioning that fact. He knew. One of your deepest secrets, one of the things you were most ashamed of. And now, the person you trusted most in here knew. What would he think? Would he view you differently? As weak? As insane? As someone who didn’t deserve to be here around people who wanted to live more than you?

All you had ever wanted was to be seen as normal. And however awful this place was, you finally had that. You had found someone who viewed you as an equal, an ally even. You weren’t the unstable girl who cut herself, or the friend no one could rely on due to unpredictable bouts of depression or anxiety, or the shitty daughter who kept to herself. You were helpful, normal even. But now?

You hadn’t noticed your breathing start to shallow until it was too late. Your vision started to go fuzzy, mind screaming that you’d let someone too close, that they would never see you the same and it was all your fault. Again.

You heard him call your name, but it felt far away, like you were trapped in a bubble and everything outside was muffled. You were paralysed with an inexplicable terror, tears streaming down your face.

Unsurprisingly, given where you were, it wasn’t the first time you’d had a panic attack in front of him. They’d been pretty consistent, after every game, during some, but now, somehow this was the worst. For some reason, someone truly knowing you was scarier than the prospect of looming death.

It took a while for your vision to come back into focus, and when it did, all you could see was his face.

“Hey, look at me, breathe, ok? Here…” he carefully placed his hand on yours, and when you didn’t pull away, picked it up and held it to his chest. “Follow my breaths, ok? In….” You did your best to follow along, stuttering slightly, but he smiled ever so softly even if you weren’t doing it perfectly. “Good, and out..” He repeated the motion a few times, and you followed until your breathing was steady enough to talk. “There we go.” He muttered gently, a hand straying to your face to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

“I’m so sorry, Dae-ho…” it was all you could choke out, already close to tears again, but he shushed you quickly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s none of my business, but I need you to know that I would never judge you… not for anything. Especially not for something that isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is, I…”

“It’s not. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best and I’m here for you. As long as you know that, that’s all that matters.” You were crying again, his words a comfort you had never heard before. Not a moment after the first tear fell his arms were around you, pulling you tight to him and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t even speak to thank him, so you squeezed his arm instead, feeling him smile into the top of your head. You had never felt so much kindness before, so much understanding… and maybe it said something about the people around you, but you couldn’t think about that. Right now, all you could think about was the way he was holding you close, the way his breaths aligned with yours, and the way he made you feel like everything was actually going to be ok.

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ CHILL , BABY ⠀ ⠀ ROMAN REIGNS / POC ! F ! READER⠀⠀

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GAME ⋆ send me a ask with a prompt following this guide && i'll write u short story !! i am still accepting two more submissions !! SUBMITTED BY @DAYS1 : * 15 / all - too familiar coconut shampoo * R / a thick knitted sweater * 𓃢 / a tropical storm

SUMMARY ⋆ mother nature is raging outside , but roman's house is full of love , especially for his wife . WARNINGS ⋆ fluff galore / roman is in luuuuuuvvvv / pet name ( baby ) / tropical storm / points 2 size difference / hurricane party / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 1 . 2 k NOTES ⋆ ( vampire voice ) u ask foooorr fluuuuufff i giiiiiveee yooooooouuuuu fluuuffffff * wheeze *

Hurricane parties can only be labeled successful if the participating bunch takes up the most impertinent task — partying.  The Anoa’i family has long since failed, a Tetris board of sleeping bags arranged throughout the vacated home theater of Roman’s lavish mansion. Stoic voices of news anchors and weathermen muted as soon as the first child fell asleep hours prior, the glow of the large screen served as a source of light, illuminating the beloved, sleeping faces of the company. To much relief, the direction of the storm had changed, now traveling away from them, and the power had returned as soon as the intense flurry of raindrops eased into a less harsh blur. It’s been close to an hour, but Roman had purposefully left the lights off. It isn’t always that he gets to witness his family so at peace, so safe and comfortable in a place of his provision, and he plans to cherish it.��

Among those cherished is his love, the one whose idea it was to turn a tropical storm into an unconventional family function. She’d fluttered about the house all day, gathering snacks, cooking, arranging all the food and drinks on the home bar in the theater. If Roman even attempted to help, she’d dismiss him with energetic waves of her small hands and force him back down on the couch, claiming she could handle it all on her own as the big girl she is, that he needed his rest. He hadn’t let her leave without promising she’d call for him if necessary and a peck to her lips. Like clockwork, she’d called — shouted for him from upstairs, found buried under a pile of sleeping bags, blankets and spare pillows as they spilled from the closet. Roman had laughed and laughed, his ribs sore and the pout on her lips growing beyond resistibility with each deep chuckle, kissed away until it was all in the past. If it weren’t for her, his few days off would’ve passed in a low, static hum of boredom, and as always, he’s eternally grateful. 

The plastic rim of the water bottle presses to his lips, but he doesn’t drink, staring at the petite slumbering figure tucked below a homemade quilt of reds, blues, and pinks. His mother’s wedding gift to the couple, and his wife’s most cherished item — after him, of course. If a stitch was to appear loose, she’d be seen kneeling on a chair, bent over the granite kitchen island, graceful cursive marking her trusty notebook with another errand, one of the utmost priority: mom’s house; get quilt fixed. She couldn’t take her mid-day naps on the couch without it, and warming up after a shower would be impossible. If the quilt wasn’t in commission, she’d become languorous, stripped of her routine. She’d claim it was the familiarity, the comfort of the same thing every time she felt tired or needed warmth. A conversation about it, though not his proudest moment, once sparked jealousy within Roman, and he’d yanked it away. What was meant to be playful had ended in chaos; a gem on her nails snagged the fabric and tore a thread. His love didn’t speak to him for six hours and thirty two minutes after, no matter how profuse his apologies were, no amount of pleas sufficed. In the end, he found himself on his mother’s couch, watching her repair the damage, sullen with regret. 

“Am I not enough for when she needs comfort and warmth?” He’d grumbled the question after eating a third peanut butter cookie in a single bite. “Am I not familiar?” His mother, bless her heart, reached over to brush crumbs away from his beard. Almost forty, Roman kept still and let her. 

“It’s because it’s a reminder of you,” she remarked with such casualness that the weight of her words took almost half a minute to reach Roman. When it did, his chest stung. “You’re gone the better half of the week and the poor girl can’t sleep without you. She looks at the blanket, she sees your wedding, it reminds her that you love her, brings her ease… but I wouldn’t put it past an emotional buffoon like you to notice.” A gentle smack to his cheek, she folded up the quilt, set it in his lap and sauntered to her kitchen, oblivious to the shift her words caused. At home, he set the repaired quilt at his darling’s feet, and sat down with a sigh. 

“I didn’t realize…” he began, instantly cut off by the press of her cheek to his pec, slender arms snaking around his torso. 

“I know,” she whispered, brushing a tear unnoticed by him off his cheekbone.

“I steal your pillowcases.” The blurted confession paused her movements. Her laughter cut the silence, flustering him further, strong arms sweeping her up so his nose could bury itself in the curve of her neck. “They smell like your shampoo and make me feel like I’m sleeping beside you when I’m on the road. Is that weird? That’s not weird right—” Through endless ramblings and infinite kisses, they were good as new. 

A hardly audible crinkle of plastic, the thud of the now empty bottle of water hitting the trash can, and the shuffle of Roman’s broad frame as he travels back to his wife are the only signs of life in the room — if the snoring of his cousins doesn’t count. Roman lifts his side of the sleeping bag, a king sized one the couple used a singular time during a camping trip hosted by the twins, and slips under the double layer of the quilt. Worn from her productive day, his wife doesn’t even stir, her breaths puff out steadily, her hair frames her head like a halo. Even with the thin strap of her top halfway down her bicep, she’s the image of perfection. With care, Roman takes the fabric between his fingertips and shifts it back in place against her collarbone. If it were up to him, he’d have tugged it down further, but that could wait until they were alone. 

His nose buries itself into soft tufts, senses flooding with the all-too familiar scent of coconut shampoo. The scent of love, of a messy bed slept in till early afternoon, the rustle in the kitchen of a time-inappropriate breakfast, the steam of a hot shower, the effort behind fitted sheets ruined by a day spent making up time. Home. Fingers sneaking under his thick knitted sweater, the tip of a cold nose nudging his neck, a lovable set of grunts filling his ears serves as a gentle interruption from his train of thoughts, and he shifts carefully to glance down. 

“Ro?” Her sleepy voice tugs a grin upon his lips; he hums quietly, his chest vibrating. “You ‘k?” Another hum. Groggily, her fingers travel up and curl the knit fabric into her little fists. Roman brings one large hand to cradle the back of her head, guiding her back into his chest, his lips near her temple. “S’the power back?” Pausing, he glances up at the light switch, the glowing tiny green square indicating his answer.

“No, baby, still out. Go back to sleep.”

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⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

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TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe / @uceyliyahh / @uceypunk / @punksyeet / @chasssssworld / @ctinadiva / @bookuce / @bratzzzdoll / @mselenalovebug / @sheaabuttaababyy / @partypoison00 / @meemee444u / @pr0wlerpunk / @queeny23 / @mingisfavgf / @brianochka if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my wrestling fics , pls like this post !!

[bottomsamtopdeangetwreked]

Do you have infantilism/age play headcanons for Wincest?

I like to think Dean is the biggest infantilism lover when it comes to his little brother (and only his little brother, by the way) like if you combine all of us infantilized Sammy lovers it would NOT be enough to compare to Dean (side note this turned out to be soft and comfy and cuddly so please spare me if it's not what you thought)

Right away, as soon as Sam was born, Dean knew he would never be able to shake this kid off. And in the future, when Sam is all grown and actually shaken off of Dean, Dean is like "oh god no oh god Sammy please come back to me💔 Sammy it wasn't you it was me💔" he misses his Sammy BAAADDD..which leads him to infantilize this big buff 6'4" guy who looks like he could throw tables and break people in half

From an outsider perspective, it's like this smaller guy taunting a much bigger guy and calling him "baby Sammy" (not just baby...baby is reserved for baby, Baby Sammy however, is different) and when they think Sam is leaning forward to absolutely punch the crap out of this smaller dude, he just plops his head on Dean's shoulder!! What!!

Sam only does the head plop move when he's extremely tired. Which is when Dean also (so very coincidentally) starts babying him lol

Sam, tired from a mission:

Dean: Awww hey baby Sammy come here, come here

Sam, subconsciously walking towards Dean because waw...that voice sounds so familiar...he only used it back then:

Dean smiling because his plan is working:

Eventually, Dean stops relying on missions to tire Sam out because he's only getting better and better at keeping his eyes open, and when he realizes baby Sammy won't come back if Sam isn't unconditionally tired, he starts doing...desperate things.

He buys roofies.

Well, he dare not call them roofies, in his head they're called sleep pills.

Dean is a monster...but he does have a heart (when it comes to his brother) so he only doses Sam up maybe half way, just enough that Sam feels like he's getting naturally sleepy and just enough that it kicks in quiet and slow.

As soon as he sees Sam's head trying to keep itself up while he goes through some random lore, Dean is by his side and it's so quick not even an angel teleporting can compete

Sam is going "uhh...huh?" And Dean is just like "Heyyyy Sammy!" he does a little shoulder wiggle. To. Act like he's talking to a baby. Sam likes how his shoulders move.

Eventually, after enough "Mmm, let's get you up big guy" and "wow, you're so much taller than before!" And "remember when you were just this short and you still called me Dee?" Dean ushers Sam into bed. While he's trying to take his leave, Sam's finger gets caught on the inside of Dean's sleeve and Dean stops.

"Dee...?" Comes from Sam.

And Dean gets so hard he thinks he did pass out, his body just stood him upright for the sake of not seeming like a creep.

He spins around and now, he's no longer Dean, he's Dee. The jerk looks like he could just get on his knees and worship those roofies so quick, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits on the edge of Sam's bed and asks "yes Sammy?"

Sam is having such a hard time trying to think, like it's getting to him, and Mmm..everything is so soft and cuddly and warm like when he was a kid and Dee really does still smell like before, you know, just with extra alcohol and bar stink.

"bedtime story?" He blurts out. Because Dee does that. Dean stopped doing it a real long time ago.

Dean softens and he feels like he might deflate, so he picks up the wizard of oz book Sam keeps on his bedside table and starts reading.

[sequinsmile-x]

Alone Together

“My name is Emily Prentiss. I…live with Jack.”  

The nurse furrows her brows, “Are you his mother?” 

She clenches her jaw, cursing herself for correcting the other woman in the first place, for letting her worry fluster her to the point where she didn’t even think about letting the half-lie slip by her. She can see where this is going already, and it makes her tense, her shoulders so tight she thinks she might snap in half.

AKA - the one where Jack is in the hospital, but Emily isn't allowed to see him.

-x-

Hi besties,

Hope you are all okay <3

We are finally out of the longest January on record and at the end of another week! Here is some family hurt/comfort with our two idiots and Jack for you <3 I know a lot of you love Jack/Emily content so this is for you - you know who you are <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3,6k

Warnings: none!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily doesn’t remember a single moment of the drive from the office to the hospital. She’d been on autopilot the entire time, her hands so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles were stark white, her skin so taut over bone she was surprised it didn’t split open as she desperately tried to think back to first thing that morning, to go over her interactions with Jack again and again to see if there was anything she could have missed. 

It had been a busy morning, like most mornings were in their house, and Jack had seemed fine. He’d been a little slower than he usually was in the morning, more tired, but when she and Aaron had both asked if he was okay he’d nodded. She wished she’d pushed, that she’d asked again, but her phone had rung, and so had Aaron’s and the day started in a hurry as work pulled them in different directions. She’d left the FBI shortly after she and Aaron got together, had grabbed the opportunity that Clyde offered her of going back to Interpol with both hands, any doubt she had about it gone as soon as he told her she didn’t need to leave DC for the offer to stand. She hadn’t regretted it for a moment, had always known it was the right thing for her and her relationships with the people she loved, but right now she wished she still worked with her fiance so she knew where the hell he was. 

The school had called her because they couldn’t get hold of Aaron. It was only after she was in her car and had got hold of Dave after leaving Aaron two voicemails, that she remembered he said he was going to a prison to conduct some interviews. He wouldn’t have his phone for hours, which meant she was all Jack had for now. Dave had promised her that he’d do his best to get hold of Aaron, even if it meant going to the prison and dragging him out of the interview room himself, and it had helped calm her down a little. 

She just about remembers to lock her car behind her as she marches into the hospital, still every part of the Interpol agent that she had been when she left the office, her gun and badge still on her hip, but with an undeniable air of a concerned parent too. She walks up to the nurse's desk and clears her throat, barely waiting for the nurse to look at her before she starts speaking. 

“I got a call about Jack Hotchner,” she says, sounding less anxious than she feels, “The school nurse called to say that he has suspected appendicitis. He was fine this morning, I don’t-”

“Mrs Hotchner,” the nurse replies, her smile annoyingly kind as she cuts over her, “These things can come on very quickly in children. Your son is currently being looked over by the doctor.”

“I’m not…” she clears her throat, stopping herself before she says too much that might get her nowhere fast, “My name is Emily Prentiss. I…live with Jack.”  

The nurse furrows her brows, “Are you his mother?” 

She clenches her jaw, cursing herself for correcting the other woman in the first place, for letting her worry fluster her to the point where she didn’t even think about letting the half-lie slip by her. She can see where this is going already, and it makes her tense, her shoulders so tight she thinks she might snap in half.

“I’m engaged to his father,” she says, digging out her wallet from her purse, slamming her driving license on the counter with more force than necessary, “Look, we have the same address.”

“Be that as it may, Miss Prentiss-”

“Agent Prentiss,” she corrects, again with more force than she means to, her desire to see Jack, to see the little boy she knows she couldn’t love more if he was hers, overriding her need to be polite. She sighs and looks at the nurse's name badge, “Look, Sophie, I poured his cereal this morning. It’s me he wants when he’s sick. Can you please just let me through?” 

Sophie smiles politely, clearly sorry that her hands are tied, “I’m sorry Agent Prentiss, but we can only let a parent or a legal guardian see him.”

She thinks of the paperwork they’d filled out, the paperwork to make her his legal guardian that was currently with the courts, and she curses herself for not doing it sooner. They’d waited until the purchase of the house had been finalised, until both her and Aaron’s names were on the deeds, to organise it. Their lawyers had told them it was better if their lives were more obviously intertwined, that family court would look on the addition to her in Jack’s life in a legal aspect more favourably if they were living together permanently. 

“His dad is at work,” she says, “I’ve tried to get hold of him.” 

“And his mother?” 

“His mother is dead,” Emily replies, half shouting it, and she sighs at herself, pinching the bridge of her nose when she realises she’s drawn the attention of more people around her. “Sorry,” she chokes out, blowing out a slow breath, “Is there really no way? He’s back there by himself.” 

Sophie shakes her head, “Not until his father gets here. But a nurse is with him, he isn’t alone I promise.” 

Emily considers pulling her badge from her belt, the weight of it almost pulling her down, and waving it around until someone lets her through. She considers doing what her family had always done - throwing money around, offering to buy the hospital a new wing until she was told she could see her little boy, but she knows it won’t help her. That it won’t help Jack. So she nods and heads towards the waiting area, swallowing back the emotions she won’t set free here, letting them sink into the lowest parts of her chest as she settles into an uncomfortable plastic chair. She twists her engagement ring around her finger and sucks in a breath. It’s bitter when she blows it back out, makes her feel nauseous as she thinks of Jack in a room just out of her reach with only strangers for company. 

“Damn it,” she says, wiping away a single stray tear from her cheek, determined it will be the only one she lets slip free before she goes home. She pulls her phone from her purse and groans when she has no missed calls from Aaron, “Where the hell are you?” 

___

Sophie takes pity on her about 30 minutes after she arrives and comes to tell her that Jack needs surgery. She still can’t let her see him, something is even harder to swallow now she knows the little boy needs an operation, but Sophie says she’ll tell Jack that Emily loves him and that she’ll see him later. 

Emily watches the clock, each minute a lifetime until she gets a call from Aaron. She has to be the calm one, has to tell him everything is okay, that Jack needs his appendix taken out but that he will be fine. He says he’ll meet her at the hospital and she makes him promise that he’ll drive safely, wryly jokes that she can’t deal with both of her Hotchner boys in hospital at the same time if he gets himself into an accident. 

At least, she thinks sadly to herself, if Aaron was in hospital she’d be able to see him. 

Almost two hours after she arrived, two hours of sitting in a hard, uncomfortable chair, the ache in her back nothing in comparison to the ache in her chest, Aaron finally arrives. She hears him before she sees him, his voice calling out for her the second he spots her. 

“Emily?” 

She stands up, her purse slipping from her lap to the ground, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. Instead, she lets Aaron pull her into a fierce hug, and she hugs him back just as tightly, her hand running soothing circles on his back. 

“He’s in surgery,” she says, cupping the back of his head as she pulls back, hoping that her smile is comforting, “He should be done soon.” 

He nods, and he looks older than he usually does. Anguish and fear pressed into the lines on his face, making them and the bags under his eyes deeper, “Why are you out here? Is something wrong-”

“No, honey,” she says, cupping his cheek, making him look at her as his eyes dart around the room, “They…” she clears her throat, tries to make sure her voice is even and doesn’t give way to her sadness and stress. He was the one she had to focus on for now, him and Jack. She could fall apart later when they were both okay, “I’m not his mom. Or his legal guardian yet,” she says, pressing her lips together to stop them from shaking, “They wouldn’t let me see him.” 

His eyebrows furrow, the line between them so deep she can’t stop herself from pressing her thumb into it, trying to soothe the anger she can see building there, “What?” He says, his voice low and stern as he looks around as if trying to find someone, anyone, to tell them exactly what he thought of that, “They wouldn’t let you see him? He was alone-”

“Aaron, baby, look at me,” she says, grasping his chin, “It’s okay,” she says, even though they both know it isn’t, even though she knows he can see how much it’s upset her too, “Jack is the most important thing right now, okay?” 

He nods sharply, his breath stuttering across her face as he presses his forehead against hers, desperately trying to seek out her strength and comfort. It’s enough to let her know just how stressed he is. Their displays of affection, their need for each other, were usually kept just for the safety of their home. The walls that surrounded them were the sanctuary neither one of them had had in years, or, in her case, ever. They sought each other out constantly, always pressed up against each other in one way or another whilst they were at home, as if they were storing up the love they had for each other for when they were apart. It felt like theirs, so it was rare for them to seek it from each other in public, to let other people - especially strangers - in on what felt so precious. 

She cups the back of his head to keep him close, gives him what he needs with her forehead pressed against his. She’d let him take all her strength if he needed it, would let it leech from her skin into his, because she knew when it was her turn, when she needed his strength, he’d give it to her in return. It was a give and take that they’d had since they simply friends, a cornerstone of their relationship that she knew made them as strong, that she knew allowed them to weather whatever storm life threw at them. 

“Come on,” she says, stamping her lips against his and smiling softly as she pulls back just enough to grab her purse from the floor before she sinks into his side again, her hand tight around his, “Now you’re here, they’ll tell us more.” 

They are shown through to the pediatric ward so quickly it feels absurd. Jack is already back from surgery and in a room, and the doctor tells them that he’ll be awake soon. It’s a relief, a weight off of both of their shoulders, when they see him. He looks smaller than usual, drowning in the starched sheets in a bed made for an adult, but other than that he looks like he’s sleeping. Aaron sits in the chair closest to the bed, and Emily sits next to him, their hands still linked together as they look at the little boy.  

“We’re going to have to fill the freezer with ice cream,” Emily says, resting her cheek against Aaron’s shoulder, “We both know he’ll ask.” 

Aaron chuckles dryly and turns his head to kiss her temple, “We both know you’ll give him anything he asks for.”

She gasps in fake outrage and pulls back to look at him, “Like you’re any better at saying no.” 

He hums and leans forward to kiss her, “We’ve got to get better at it before we have any more kids,” he quips, “Otherwise they’ll run rings around us.” 

The thought of it makes her smile, just like it always did. A baby that was half her and half him, physical proof of their love for each other out in the world for everyone else to see. The happiness doesn’t linger like usual, it fades as she looks at a sleeping Jack, as she rests her hand on his leg, because she wonders if, even when she is legally his guardian, the wider world would view him any less her son than any other children they may have. 

Jack groans, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she and Aaron both turn to look at him. 

“Jack, buddy,” Aaron says, standing up so he can sit on the edge of his bed. Emily stands up too, her hands on Aaron’s shoulders as she smiles down at the little boy, “How do you feel?” 

“My tummy hurts.” 

“You had to have an operation,” Emily says, breaking away from Aaron to sit on the edge of the other side of Jack’s bed, her hand reaching out for his, smiling when he holds her hand as tightly as he can, “Your tummy will feel sore for a few days but then you’ll feel better.”

He nods, “The nurse told me that you were here but you didn’t come to see me.” 

It’s like a knife to the heart, his innocence, the lack of understanding shining in his eyes, each a fresh wound that makes her want to take back her decision to sit peacefully in the waiting room. 

“I know, sweet boy,” she says, leaning in to kiss his forehead, “I’m sorry. I would have been here if I could. But she told me that she’d let you know that I love you.” 

He leans into her hand as she strokes his cheek, “I always know you love me,” he says, and he looks between her and Aaron, “Can we go home now?” 

“You have to stay here tonight,” Aaron says, running his fingers through Jack’s hair, “But if you’re feeling better tomorrow, the doctor said you might be able to go home. I’ll stay here with you tonight so you’re not by yourself.” 

Jack looks at Emily, “Are you staying too?” 

She shakes her head, and feels Aaron’s gaze burning into her cheek, “I can’t, honey. Only one of us has to stay and it has to be Daddy.” 

It was something else the doctor told them, that one parent or guardian could stay overnight, and it had been another kick in the gut. 

Jack furrows his brows, “But then you’ll be alone at home.” 

She sucks in a breath, covering it with a smile as she looks up at Aaron for a moment before she looks back at Jack, “I’ll be okay,” she says, not sure which one of them needs to hear it the most, “And I’ll come back tomorrow with some clothes for you and Daddy.” 

“And you’ll bring Rupert?”

“And of course, I’ll bring Rupert.” She smiles as she thinks of his favourite toy, a stuffed rabbit that Aaron told her had once been bigger than Jack, and she nods, Aaron reaches over Jack for her, seeking out the hand that wasn’t in Jack’s, and she takes it, squeezing his palm against hers in an attempt to comfort them both. “I’ll be okay.” 

This time, when she says it, she thinks she might be trying to convince herself. 

___

She gets takeout on the way home. 

She eats it in the kitchen, the house unbearably quiet around her, and as soon as she puts food down for Sergio, she heads upstairs. She showers quickly, the rush of the water a welcome distraction from the emptiness of her home, and then changes into a pair of Aaron’s sweatpants and one of his swearers - cuffing the pant legs so she can walk without tripping over - settling for trying to seek comfort in the clothes of the man she loves since she can’t be in his arms. 

Before she gets into bed, she goes into Jack’s room. She picks up Rupert from his bed, buries her face in his worn fur and breathes in. She takes him with her to the master bedroom, and she sneaks under the covers, the vastness of their bed bigger than ever without Aaron next to her. She was used to sleeping without him when he was on cases, but having to do it when he was just across town felt different - especially because Jack wasn’t here to sneak into bed with her. She sighs as she pulls the covers around her, smiling sadly when Sergio jumps onto the bed with a muted thump, his meow loud in the otherwise quiet room, she reaches out to scratch between his ears.

“It’s just the two of us tonight, Serg,” she says, sighing sadly, “Just like it used to be,” he meows again, “I know, buddy. I don’t like it anymore either.” 

She jumps when her phone rings, and she sits up, scrambling for her phone, panic she’d pushed down earlier making a quick return the second she sees Aaron’s name on the screen. She answers quickly, her hold on Rupert against her chest tight. 

“Aaron? Is everything okay? Did something-”

“Em, he’s okay,” he assures her, his voice low and quiet as he cuts her off before she can spiral any further, “He’s asleep. I thought I’d call to check on you.”

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and she shakes her head at herself as the tears she’d been suppressing all afternoon spill down her cheeks, “I’m okay.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not okay. Today was a lot. It’s okay if you’re not okay too.” 

She hums, almost mad at him for how well he knew her, and she wipes her cheek before she rests it against the top of Rupert’s head, her tears dampening his fur, “I just…I forget sometimes.” 

“You forget what, baby?” 

“That I’m not his mom,” she says, unable to stop the sob that tears from her throat, the sound turning into a wet laugh as Sergio nudges at her hand, his head tilted to the side as if he’s trying to work out what’s wrong, “God, I’m sorry,” she says, sniffing, “Your son’s in the hospital and I’m the one crying.” 

“He’s our son, Emily,” he says, his voice firm and loving, “He’s yours just as much as he is mine and Haleys,” he laughs wryly, “I think we both know if given a choice, he would have wanted you to stay with him.” 

“That’s not true,” she replies automatically, “You’re the centre of his world and you know it.” 

“And you’re the sun,” he says, and she scoffs, shaking her head even though he can’t see her, “It’s true. We Hotchner men are unable to stop being drawn to you.” 

She chuckles and wipes her cheek, “If Reid were listening in, he’d remind you that the planets orbit the sun because its mass is bigger, and therefore it creates a gravitational pull,” she scrunches her nose up, “If I didn’t know better, or if you were my mother, I’d think this was a very creative way of telling me I’ve put on weight.” 

“Never, Em. You know that.” He laughs at her joke, the sound music to her ears, a far cry from the strain in his voice earlier when he’d shown up at the hospital, “Sometimes I forget I’m marrying a nerd.” 

“You love it, and you know it.” 

“I love you,” he says, and he sighs, “We’ll get the paperwork fast-tracked, Em. I know a guy who can help. This won’t happen again.” 

She hums, “Well, his appendix can’t get inflamed for a second time anyway.” 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing thickly as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “I know. I love you too, by the way,” she looks over at his empty side of the bed, “Our bed is cold without you.” 

“We’ll be home tomorrow night, Jack seems to be doing well.” 

“And until then, I have Sergio and Rupert for company.” She says, and she can practically hear his smile down the phone and it’s a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed. She sinks into the bed, pulling the covers around herself again, and she sighs contentedly. 

“Want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep?” He asks, and she almost tells him no, almost shakes off the offer and tells him she’ll be fine, but she wants this. Wants him. And until she can have him and Jack back with her, she’ll make do with what little bits of him she can have. 

“Yeah,” she says, tucking Rupert against her chest, “I’d like that.” 

She falls asleep as he tells her about his day at work, about the interview she never got to ask him about, and she knows that whilst tonight she might be alone, she certainly wasn’t lonely. 

[makeyoumine69]

Hello dear people in my beloved American Psycho fandom! I couldn't force myself to write this post because I didn't know how to do it, but I think now is the right time. I promised myself not to bring personal stuff into my writing, but since one thing affects another, I think I should finally speak up.

This year started pretty bad for me, I was suffering from a huge apathy and my mental health was probably in the worst state in the last few years. I had to cut ties with a lot of people and distance myself, and I'm really sorry for doing that, but I had no choice because I was literally dying from the inside. When I came back to Tumblr in 2022, I was absolutely alone and I had no friends, no followers and in some ways I felt calm and peaceful. I always thought and probably still think that I should be alone and isolated from everyone, like a soulless writing machine just producing fanfictions for people to consume. Maybe this is not a bad thing, because interacting with people always carries the risk of getting bruised?

Anyway, the thing that broke me completely was the news I received in the last days of January that I would be fired in February because my company decided to close the project I was working on due to the high inflation and bad economic situation in Russia. So now I have to find a job within February because I have a lot of financial responsobilities like paying for the medical treatment my family is getting. My grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer and her surgery was paid for by me and my fiancé, but the medicine costs a lot, so… after I told my mom about my news, she blamed me for everything. I was not really surprised though, considering that I have been having fights with my whole family for the past few months over different topics, but mostly they hate me for my political opinions. Whenever I say that I am tired of the war, sanctions and all the other stuff that 2022 has brought, they call me a fucking traitor. My family is ready to cancel me just because I told them I was tired of living in isolation, that I had even forgotten what my life was like before the war. My fiancé is literally the only person in my family who supports me, and even though I'm going to lose my job, he told me he would do anything for me, for us, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm really scared about the future, I think I really am now.

So, I'm sorry for not finishing the Christmas fics I promised to post, I'll try to finish them soon. Also, I'm sorry for not being active with fulfilling the requests and replying to your asks. I'm really sorry. And I know some of you might think that why I keep writing new series and working on different stuff while I have WIPs I need to finish—I'm just trying to follow my muse and I can say that it's really unstable these days, but I'm really trying to do my best and deliver something good for all of you!

I also want to thank all of you who have supported me with your donations! It means the world to me! Unfortunately, my account on the platform I was using for donations has been suspended because of… DOLLARS! They think I'm a scammer or something because the dollar is such a cursed currency in Russia right now, so I don't know if they'll unban my account, I hope they will.

Okay, that was longer than I thought it would be. To end this crazy rant, I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me no matter how fucked up I might be! I believe that one day I will find my way back to myself so that I can come back strong and refreshed!

[elliecore4eva]

Id love a reader x elille story were elille is out on patrol and finds reader injured and takes them in and reader gets more comfortable and left there guard down over time and comes to finally trust Ellie only for elille to overthink and start panicking thinking about caring about someone so hard maybe make it take place after or before Joel's death and maybe make it a series

oooh i love this! i had so much fun writing this piece i called the series “Through the Snow and Shadows” i was also thinking of turning it into a 4 or 5 part series! Thank you so much for requesting! Hope you like it, love!💕

Disclaimer: I used the pronouns, she/her, i wasn’t sure which one to use, please let me know if i would change it to another one!

Pairing : Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst/ fluff : slow- burn

Summary: Through the Snow and Shadows follows Ellie as she rescues an injured woman on patrol and brings her back to Jackson. As their bond grows, Ellie struggles with her fear of opening up after losing Joel. Through small moments of trust and vulnerability, they both begin to heal, but Ellie must confront her panic about caring for someone again. A slow-burn, emotional journey with a romantic ending.

Another Disclaimer: There are no specific descriptions of the reader. i did this so it can be enjoyed by a lot of people. Again if there are any elements that make people feel uncomfortable please do call me out, respectfully of course since it isn’t my intention to do so.

Part 1 - Found in the Snow

Ellie had never liked the cold. The bitter wind that cut through her jacket, the snow that coated the ground like a never-ending blanket of white—it all felt wrong. And yet, here she was, trudging through the dense forest outside of Jackson on another patrol, just like any other day. She didn’t expect it to be anything special. It wasn’t supposed to be.

But then she found you.

She had caught sight of your figure lying in the snow, half-buried, limp, and completely still. Ellie’s heart skipped, panic bubbling in her chest as she rushed forward, her breath coming in quick, panicked bursts. She knelt beside you, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to check for a pulse.

You were alive. Barely. But alive.

The sight of your blood-drenched shirt and torn skin made Ellie’s stomach twist, but she had no time to dwell on it. She had to act. She knew the risks. She’d seen the infected, the bandits—hell, she’d lost people she loved. But you? You were human. And you needed help.

The trek back to Jackson felt like an eternity. Every step Ellie took, carrying you through the snow, felt heavier than the last. She was tired, cold, and scared, but she couldn’t let you go. Not like this. Not when you were still breathing, still fighting.

When she finally reached the gates of Jackson, Tommy and a couple of the medics helped get you inside. Ellie was too worn out to speak, her mind swirling with a million questions she didn’t have answers to. What had happened to you? How had you ended up out here all alone?

And why, despite everything, did Ellie feel this strange pull to stay by your side?

Days passed, and Ellie found herself visiting you in the infirmary every chance she got. It wasn’t like her to linger, to get involved with someone she didn’t know. She had learned long ago to keep her distance, to keep her guard up. But you were different. The way you looked at her, the silence between you, it made Ellie feel like there was something more, something she wasn’t sure she could ignore.

You didn’t say much at first. When Ellie would bring food or clean bandages, you’d barely acknowledge her presence. But Ellie couldn’t stop herself from coming back, even if it meant facing the awkwardness of the silence between you.

One afternoon, Ellie sat beside your bed, watching as you stared out the window, lost in your own thoughts.

“How’re you feeling?” Ellie asked, her voice tentative. She didn’t want to push you. She didn’t know if you wanted to talk. But she was here, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t answer at first, your eyes distant, as though the question hadn’t registered. Ellie’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to make some kind of connection. But she stopped herself. You hadn’t asked for that.

After a long pause, you glanced at her, your expression unreadable. “I don’t belong here,” you muttered, almost to yourself.

Ellie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve it.”

Ellie’s heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice. She didn’t know what you had gone through to feel like this, but she could understand. She’d felt it too—like she wasn’t worthy of kindness, like she didn’t deserve any of it.

“Everyone deserves kindness,” Ellie said softly, her voice steady despite the way her stomach was twisting. She was trying to be strong for you, even though she didn’t feel strong herself.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick. Neither of you spoke again for a while, and Ellie found herself lost in her own thoughts. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to caring so much about someone she didn’t know. But there was something about you, something that made her want to stay.

[drabbletron]

Domesticity and Other Distractions: Hound x Reader fic (PART 2)

|| Sorry it's so short! I'm still working on this, slowly but surely. I just haven't had the time with working second shift and trying to save up for my own place. I really hope you all like it! This is sort of like an escape for me at the moment with life being the way it is right now. I know we could all use a little sweetness in life and Hound is just the mech for the job! ||

more Fluff

Now that you’re in the full cleaning swing he makes his way downstairs feeling that itch himself. He closes up the garage and notes the mess your roomies left for you in the kitchen. Hound’s only ever done one chore for you here and that was taking out the trash (because it was a near torrential downpour and he didn’t want you to have to deal with that), so he does that and hopes it makes things easier for you. He tries not to fault your friends and chalks it up to them being just as tired as you, then he sees that there’s the largest pile of dirty dishes imaginable lying in the sink. Now that’s just plain rude!

He's never done it before with human food, but he imagines it’s a lot like cleaning energon cubes, so it’s not completely unfamiliar as he reaches for the dish soap and a sponge. Methodically he makes his way through the mountain and, in no time flat, he’s got the majority of it done. After a few more pots and pans he’s onto rinsing and then putting things on the counter over a towel to dry. He can see why you hate doing it when he notices the pads of his avatar’s fingers getting all wrinkly (what a weird thing humans do). He makes a note to ask you about why that happens later.

It's doing tasks like these that have him wondering about domesticity and you, and how he always finds the two going hand and hand with each other. If he were a human he’d have no problem doing all of these little things while you do some other little home things in a different part of the house. Even now when he’s pretending to be something he’s not, it’s like living in some fantasy where he’s not on the front lines of an eons long war and he doesn’t have to worry about you or the people he loves getting hurt. He can imagine that he lives here on this little blue marble in the middle of nowhere with a house, a garden, plenty of land to explore and sights to see, and you, always happy to see him and be loved by him. Now wouldn’t that be something?

He leaves the quaint little imaginings to the back of his processor and takes a moment to look around and see what else he can do to make things a little easier for you. Before he can take a crack at the living room and the many things in there, you’re coming down the stairs in your pajamas. By Primus, you look so cozy and soft with the light from the window on the stairs shining just right. You’re radiant and ethereal and his spark jumps in his chassis.

“I finished the room!”

You hop along down the steps, more pep than you should have from working all night long and wrap your arms around him with a hum. He can smell the freshly applied body spray, something soft and clean smelling with a hint of woody notes, when he returns the embrace and sways gently from side to side. This is surely some sort of dream. There is no way that Primus let him have this soft little thing from outer space that loved him so much. But who was he to question the creator.

“Ah took care of the dishes and the trash for you,” you look up at him in surprise, “Figured I’d make myself useful and try to tidy up.”

“Hound, you didn’t have to do all of that,” and the smile you give him is a mile long.

“Ah know, jus’ didn’t want you to stress yourself, darlin’.”

“You are too cute, you know that?”

You bury your face into his chest and he brings up a hand to cup the back of your head content to stay wrapped up in your warmth. How often do you get to hold each other like this? When was the last time you’d cuddled him, if ever? Not sitting on his shoulder or in his hand to be carried around and not sitting in his cab or the back seat when he takes you places. No, actually held and cuddled. When?

“Hey, do you want to take a nap with me?”

“Well, ah’ve never slept in a human bed before. Sure!”

With that you drag him excitedly up the stairs back to your room.

When Hound sees the space this time it’s definitely much cleaner. The bed is made and covered in soft, fuzzy blankets and plush pillows; the desk and bedside tables are visible if still a little cluttered, more of an organized cluster of items; and there are decidedly no “little patterned fabrics” to be seen.

“So, what do you think?”

(Part 1)

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, wonchan + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"a bit more than you". oneshot, 0.9k. pg-13.

Seungcheol always thinks he loves Jeonghan more.

"where love stays". oneshot, 2k. pg-13.

It’s Sunday and Seungcheol is running late.

"don't see us saying goodbye". oneshot, 3k. pg-13.

what if the love of your life ends up doing his service in your hometown and you abandon your friends to see him.

"stupid jocks and stupid bets". + soonhoon. college!au. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

Seungcheol and Soonyoung are always making stupid bets. This time, while the two couples are supposed to be studying like the good students they are, Jeonghan and Jihoon unexpectedly find themselves at the center of yet another ego-driven bet.

"easy to want, hard to get". au: idol!sc. twoshot, 6.6k. pg-13.

Yoon Jeonghan’s fake husband is his longest running bit yet.

"ghost in the sheets". au, rule 63. oneshot, 7k. nc-17.

Someone is haunting Seungcheol.

"i will not ask and neither should you". au. oneshot, 12k. pg-13.

"Hyung," Mingyu says, sounding tired. "He lets you get away with everything. What’s a little more?”

"spider, beetle, bee". au: single dad!sc. oneshot, 21.5k. nc-17. ♡♡

“I’m going to have to talk with him about that— uh— I’m sorry, you’ve been, like, babysitting my kid three times a week, apparently.”

(Seungcheol learns about the inherent homoeroticism of sitting on a park bench with his kid’s imaginary friend.

MINWON

"amor, let me breathe deeply". omegaverse: alpha!ww, omega!mg. oneshot, 6k. nc-17. ♡

“Are you stupid?” a new voice chimes in. “If you had an omega like Kim fucking Mingyu, would your beta ass let him go?”

Oh, they’re talking about him. Them, actually. Conversations about Mingyu end up turning into conversations about Wonwoo, if they talk for long enough.

"fever pitch". omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

Wonwoo pulled up the collar of his jersey and held it to his nose. Like many of the spectators, he was also wearing a jersey that read KIM, 17 across the back. The difference was that while others had purchased their official gear from a store, Wonwoo was wearing Mingyu's actual jersey.

"for you". film student!au. oneshot, 8.6k. nc-17.

Mingyu has a bad day. Wonwoo fixes it.

"the left side of everywhere". au: model!mg. oneshot, 12k. nc-17.

Wonwoo hadn’t anticipated running into his ex-fiancé in Paris, let alone ending up in his hotel suite. But after a night of high emotions and long-overdue honesty, he’s left unsure of what comes next. One thing, however, is clear: he’s still in love with Kim Mingyu, and he’ll do whatever it takes to prove he’s worthy of a second chance.

"no good reason". au: gang leader!ww. 15 chapters, 108k. nc-17.

Wonwoo, who has had everything ripped away from him, meets Mingyu, who’s been handed life on a silver platter.

WONCHAN

"come through and chill". au: idol!ww. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

They're not actually together, but if he's in town the first place Wonwoo goes is Chan's apartment.

"asphyxiate". college!au: professor!ww, student!dn. oneshot, 8k. nc-17.

Chan wonders if it’s possible to asphyxiate on want alone. Professor Jeon sits across from him, looking intimidating behind the wood of the university issued desk, appearing disinterested as he rolls a pen between his fingers. But his eyes are locked on Chan’s mouth, and Chan knows that the points are in his favor during this game.

"welcome back, pavlov's dog". au: hybrid!dn. 3 chapters, 15k. nc-17. ♡

“Good morning, Chan,” Wonwoo says in a tone that he thinks is pleasant enough, “I’m Jeon Wonwoo, and I’m going to be the specialist in charge of you until…” Well, Seungcheol hasn’t really specified any time frame, only that money isn’t an object when it came to Chan’s treatment plan, “… well, until further notice. If you have any issues and concerns, it’s best that you go straight to me.”

OTHER

"sickeningly sweet like honey". seokhao. omegaverse: omega!dk, omega!mh. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

Minghao is welcomed home with a night of Seokmin in his nest and under his hands.

"so hot you're hurting my feelings". gyushua. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

One night in L.A., Mingyu goes to a bar he's heard will be a good time. Jisoo is waiting and watching and ready to give Mingyu exactly what he's looking for.

"adornment". seokgyu. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

“You deserve to be babied. You deserve to be done up all pretty. You’re perfect.” Seokmin praises. “You--deserve--everything.”

"dying for you". verkwan. au. oneshot, 21k. nc-17. ♡

There’s an almost comically drawn out pause filled with only the sound of sizzling meat on the grill.

“Oh,” says Seokmin. “So you’re in love with the not dead guy.”

[lura-valentine]

Dabi and Hawks as fathers. How do you imagine the two of them when you think about the different ages? Baby, child and young adult.

Chaos!

They would be absolute chaotic fathers who would drive their partners, like Rain (my OC) crazy with their behavior. They would do a lot, and I mean a LOT, of stupid things with the child.

Both of them separately would be manageable, but if you had a DabiHawks situation, it would definitely be a jackpot in the chaos lottery. Rain would then literally have two adult children at her side, who would constantly provoke each other and raise the child (in this case Kaji) in the craziest way.

➡️ To Rain's priofil

➡️ To Kaji's profil

Kaji in the baby phase

Dabi

Changing diapers, what is that? Dabi grabs the little one by his diaper and holds him at eye level like a packet of chips. "Rain, I think he's leaking. Do we still have the guarantee certificate for the boy?"

Lullabies? No! Instead of sweet lullabies, Dabi plays dark rock ballads from his smartphone or gives baby Kaji dry advice like: "Sleeping is overrated. Get used to it."

Warmth and security? Absolutely YES. Even if Dabi doesn't admit it, he loves lying on the couch while the little one sleeps on his chest. "You're a damn chilblain, no wonder you can only sleep peacefully with me."

Proud father? When Kaji first uses his Quirk (maybe spitting out a mini Frostflame), Dabi would annoy Rain with a grinning, "See? Mine!"

Hawks (foster father)

Play until you drop? Hawks has a lot of energy, so he could play with Kaji for hours without getting tired. But if Kaji screams - then there is a frantic panic reaction: "Rain! I think I broke him!"

Flying lessons at a baby age? As soon as Kaji shows the first signs of wings, Hawks would throw him into the air - just a little bit. Rain panics when she sees this, but Hawks remains completely calm: "Everything is under control! Birds fall out of nests and survive."

What is a cradle? Hawks likes to use his feathers to rock Kaji to sleep. "My feathers are much better than a stupid baby bed, aren't they, my little one?"

Multitasking level: God: With one hand he feeds Kaji while typing messages with the other and changing diapers with his feathers at the same time. Rain watches him in horror: "You can't do EVERYTHING with your feathers, Keigo!" - "Why not? It's efficient!"

DabiHawks

Feathers VS Shopping Bag – Rain comes into the room and sees Kaji either safely wrapped in Hawks' feathers or being held like carry-on luggage by Dabi.

Changing diapers? No thanks. Hawks passes the job on to Dabi, "Hey, flamethrower, you're good with heat, right?", and Dabi counters with, "You do it, bird brain. You have sensitive feathers." Rain ends up doing it himself.

First flying lesson? Double trauma for Rain. Hawks and Dabi argue about how Kaji should learn to fly. Hawks wants to do it gently with feather support, while Dabi just lets him go: "Either he flies or learns how to fall." Rain? She's about to set them both on fire. He's still a damn BABY!

Kaji: Toddler Phase

Dabi

Dabi constantly gives Kaji mean but loving nicknames like Frosty, Bluewing, or Ice Block. The more Kaji gets upset about it, the more fun Dabi has.

Dabi teaches Kaji all sorts of nonsense, like how to steal food or put on a super serious look to unsettle people.

Dabi secretly likes to praise Kaji, but he rarely does so openly. Instead, he gives high-fives and pats on the back.

Has silly competitions with Kaji, like who can eat faster or who can stare at Rain longer without blinking, which always makes her freak out.

Hawks (foster father)

Hawks playfully teaches Kaji to control his powers by playing "catching with feathers" or having small dogfights. “If you hit me with your ice flame, you’ll get an extra dessert!”

Cool upbringing, but with control. Hawks gives Kaji a lot of freedom, but in reality he keeps a discreet eye on everything. If Kaji runs too far away, a feather comes out of nowhere and picks him up to bring him back like a drone. "Did you want to run away? No, little one, not today."

Flying duels in the living room. As soon as Kaji can use his wings, there's no stopping him. Hawks would fly with him through the apartment, knocking over furniture, while Rain yells in the background: "Keigo, this is NOT a race track!"

Super laid back dad. Hawks would never get too worked up about small problems. When Kaji falls, instead of drama there is a "Phew, crazy flight! But next time you'll land better."

DabiHawks

Double chaos, zero control. Dabi is the father who teaches Kaji how to get up to mischief while Hawks teaches him how not to get caught. Rain realizes far too late that her son is being raised by two of the biggest tricksters she knows.

Food problems. Hawks wants Kaji to eat healthy. Dabi? Just give him what he eats. Hawks: “Eat your vegetables, Kaji.” Dabi: “Here, eat a bag of chips. Vegetables are overrated.” Rain comes in: “WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?”

Training - serious VS play. Hawks does exercises that are actually just games, while Dabi tests Kaji in real combat situations. Hawks: "Dodge my feathers, Kaji!" Dabi: "Catch that fireball. Oh yeah, it hurts."

Resistance to Rain: If Rain makes a serious parenting decision, Hawks and Dabi disappear out the door with Kaji. “Ehh, we have to go out for a moment, no, little one?”

Kaji: Teenager Phase

Dabi

The rebel gene comes through - Kaji has Dabi's stubbornness and Rain's strategic cleverness - a bad combination for a teenager. While Rain can't stop preaching, Dabi celebrates when Kaji causes trouble.

Dabi never gives good advice directly, but instead packages it in mockery: "Oh, you're tired? Yes, life is hard when you cry so much."

If Kaji gets into serious trouble, Dabi is the first to arrive. Anyone who gets too close to Kaji will receive a very unhealthy burst of flames.

Is incredibly proud, but rarely shows it openly. Instead, he says things like: "Not bad, kid. Maybe you are my son after all."

Hawks (foster father)

Hawks would tease Kaji, but always with a hint of wisdom. "Oh, you want to be a tough guy? Cool. But tough guys also think before they rush into stupid situations."

If Kaji wants to keep secrets from him, forget it. Hawks knows everything. "Oh, you were out with someone? Don't worry, I know your friends' entire family history.

​​When Kaji is really down, Hawks gets serious. No sarcasm, no games. Just an honest "Hey, I know how it feels to think you're on your own. But you're not."

Hawks would never openly admit that he is worried, but he is constantly near Kaji without him noticing. And if someone threatens Kaji – Hawks is there in a flash.

DabiHawks

Dabi as bad influence, Hawks as damage control – Dabi: "Okay, so if you want to intimidate someone, all you have to do is look threatening and speak slowly." Hawks: "Or you can just use charm and get what you want without people being afraid of you." Kaji? Uses both – and Rain just wants to get away.

Training is a declaration of war - Hawks relies on speed, Dabi on raw power, so Kaji is constantly caught in the crossfire of both. Dabi: "Attack me with full force." Hawks: "Just kick him between the legs."Rain: “I SWEAR YOU TWO WILL BREAK HIM!”

School problems? Nope.Thanks to Hawks, Kaji always knows how to talk his way out of trouble. Thanks to Dabi, he is not afraid to talk his way out of trouble if necessary. Teacher: "Kaji, have you done your homework?" Kaji (grins): "Did you like doing homework when you were a student?" Hawks in the background: "Oh, I'm so proud." Dabi: "He wasn't aggressive enough, but it's OK."

My moral supporters

@doumadono | @unhinged-bratty-boy | @indignant-alpaca | @kyuubinicole | @hultaj69 | @vegemania | @bonelesscunt

mention accounts that my works ❤️ and 🔄. If someone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please write it.

[mojo-bro-tho]

In the deepest part of night, voices always run high. A Warden’s mind is never fully clear, never fully still. Always tattering seams at the edges of the brain or gnawing maws scrapping around the interior of their skulls. And it’s never consistent either.

At first it’s debilitating and insomnia inducing. The fear of sleeping becomes commonplace. Many younger Wardens try to keep themselves awake for as long as possible just to avoid it. That only gets worse the younger the Warden is.

Then, as time marches on, they get used to it. Some claim they can block it out entirely but what they really mean to say is that they smother their own dreams. Buried beneath heaps of grey matter and exhaustion. That’s as good as it gets.

And finally, they get older. Their own blood a slow moving poison that muddies the senses. Sleep is… easier. But that only unlocks a new fear. It’s nice to sleep again. It’s not the Calling, not yet, but it’s closer now. They’re afraid to go to sleep because it feels good again and when they wake up they’re even more afraid because they wished they hadn’t woken up.

Warden Thorne can fight it most times for whatever constitutes as night in the Fade. They don’t tell Davrin, because if they told Davrin then well, he’d know what it means. Rook doesn’t want that. They don’t want to see that look of knowing in someone’s eyes and have themselves become a reminder of what’s on the horizon.

So Rook will seek a different comfort. Knocking softly on the wooden door and mere moments later being greeted to the smell of a fire, fresh aftershave, and leather. Emmrich peers down at them, confused but not unwelcoming. Rook was not normally up so early, he thought to himself. In truth, no one was besides himself.

They looked tired. Still dressed in their night clothes that perhaps reveals a tad more skin than what he was expecting from them. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything as it’s improper to make those sorts of comments. Not like he’s against the sight either, you’d have to be a fool to not enjoy the sight of them like this.

“Bad dreams, my dear?” He asked, voice slightly lower than he usually kept it on account of not having used it much yet that day.

“Something like that.” Rook didn’t like to lie.

“I was just about to retrieve Manfred and have him make my morning tea. Would you care to join me?”

It was a polite request. Emmrich would never turn down the opportunity to spend more time with Rook, least of all when they looked so softened by the early morning. They smiled in a way that nestled against Emmrich’s heart. Only to then see a glimmer of something else to twist it.

“Maybe after.” Rook’s whispered. The question of ‘after what?’ only lasted for a few seconds.

Rook’s lips found Emmrich’s, entirely devoid of any barriers of modesty. It was a fervent, hungry clash that despite it taking him by surprise he was able to swiftly match it in intensity. No one was around for him to worry about keeping up appearances. So Emmrich swept them inside by the small of Rook’s waist.

The heat of their body seared into Emmrich’s hand even through the night clothes. And he clung to it as though to seep the life out of Rook. Warm, alive, vibrant, if only he could siphon it to meet them half way.

Little did he know that Rook felt something quite similar boiling under the surface. That need for a comma rather than a period, or an ellipses, more likely an exclamation point that always came at the end. They wanted what Emmrich had. Continuation. If only they could bottle up Emmrich’s experience and cram it directly into their singing bloodstream.

Both starved for touch and a lapse in reality that could be temporarily soothed by the screech of a desk being misused. Scars didn’t bother Emmrich and a few wrinkles were never unwelcomed by Rook. There was still enough life in both of them to enjoy this carnal craving.

The tattered seams became the shift and strain of clothing being wrenched away. A gnawing maw replaced lips stuck between teeth, pressed into the neck. Voices melted into hums of approval. Grunts and moans and commands that could make them forget and force them to listen.

Now that was a calling that Warden Rook could get behind.

[cadybear420]

Evie-loution Headcanons

I've seen a lot of people do timeline headcanons lately, so Imma add some to here! Evie's childhood headcanons are very underdeveloped tho, and there are probably some things I didn't think of until after posting this list. But here's what I got so far.

Warning: possibly a few things in here that Evie would hate me forever for revealing, lmao

Late-submitting for HSS Appreciation Week 2025 Day 1 Meet our MCs and Day 2 Fresh Starts and Growth @hss-appreciation-events

Also submitting for Choices MC Appreciation Week Day 1 Straight A Students @choicesmcappreciationweek | @rosesnink

Also late-submmitting for Choices January 2025 Prompts Starting Over, First Love, New Town, New City, New Relationship, New Friendship @choicesjanuary2025 | @loreofyore

(Submitting both the edits and the headcanons, of course)

Also tagging:

@aces-and-angels | @lover-also-fighter-also | @rjschoicesstuff |

@storyofmychoices | @sapphoschoices | @a-cloud-for-dreams |

@spadesofgrass | @choicesmc | @peonyblossom |

Grade 5

Evie has a small-ish friend group of girls that was formed when she was in grade 4. They sometimes get along, they sometimes don't. Evie is sometimes regarded by the group as being too bossy and always trying to have her way. 50% of the time those contentions are brought up, they are admittedly correct. The other 50% of the time, the friend group was just being unfair to her. In either case, it would often lead to Evie lashing out at them before angrily storming off to either cry in a corner or kick down the playground trash cans.

Evie has always been very imaginative. But it's around this year where she starts to like imagining being in certain locations as some sort of adventure.

Evie is actually kind of mid in most of phys ed, with the exception of maybe basketball, kickball, and field games like capture the flag.

Grade 6

Evie starts middle school. She goes to a small PreK-8 private school, so the only major transition she really goes through is a switch to subject-separate classes and classrooms that each have their own teacher. The extra work can be overwhelming but it's no big deal. She manages well enough.

A lot of the girls in Evie's friend group move to a different school this year. They also hang out less because most of them were in the grade below Evie's and they had different class/recess schedules.

It's in this year's phys ed where Evie discovers her skill in running. She outruns most of her small class in the running exercises. Albeit most of the kids in the class seem to hate running, but still.

Tired of feeling left out (even if it's a very small school community), Evie takes a lot more initiative this year to befriend the other, supposedly more "popular" kids in her grade. She doesn't go full-on "butchering who she is just so the popular kids will like her", but rather tries to impress them by honing the skills she already has– showing off her math and science knowledge in class, being one of the fastest kids in phys ed– and it seems to work quite well. They did seem to look up to her for help with assignment questions, and she loved that. There wasn't a lot of "anti-nerd" sentiment in her small school, plus The Brain from the "Arthur" cartoon was clearly admired and respected for being super smart. And why wouldn't other kids admire that, she figured.

She also finds common ground with those kids over Minecraft Pocket Edition, and they would often play together after school on Fridays. Technically she does try the game out because the other kids like it, but it's a game she legitimately enjoys playing. She loves building her own structures and towns and stuff like that. By far one of her favorite video games of all time.

However, in these efforts to befriend the other kids, sometimes she would take her main friends for granted a bit. They managed to work things out with that smoothly enough, but in retrospect Evie sometimes wonders why she didn't get more shit from them for it.

Evie's first Big Crush happens this year, it's one of the "popular" guys she becomes closer with. She ends up being very expressive about it. There's some awkwardness about it and he doesn't seem to return the feelings, but she doesn't seem to have actively pushed away the guy or tarnished her relationship with him. But he does move to a different school for other reasons next year, so the crush would eventually fade out.

Grade 7

Evie gets her iconic jean jacket and buttons! How? Back-to-school shopping spree, that's how. It's also around grades 6-7 when Evie starts to take an interest in clothing ensembles that look "cool" to her. Like matching pants-jackets, neon+black color schemes, just-below-the-knee leather boots. She always thought jean jackets were pretty cool, but the old one she had was way too small for her. So she gets a new one, along with some (semi-)matching jeans.

Evie seems to feel a lot more secure about her friendships in her class. She gets along with a lot of the other more "popular" kids well enough, but tends to gravitate to her main friends more. Which isn't exactly a lot, because more of them moved to different schools.

Evie does also maintain her prowess in math and science knowledge, but there were also a couple of new kids that seemed to be equally skilled in those areas. Evie would get very jealous when other students were impressed by their knowledge, worrying that they might no longer look up to her for help in those areas.

It's late in this year when Evie starts to discover her sexuality, primarily via smutty fanfiction of her favorite media. Mainly MxM stuff and FxF stuff. She's always been at least 99% wlm but tends to feel alienated by how, er, gender-normative a lot of fxm works can be. She'd always been averse to the idea of being penetrated, so anything that involved a female character experiencing that squicked her out– but MxM of course had only guys experiencing it. She doesn't fully realize this yet, but MxM smut was seemingly the only mainstream category that actually let the guys be sexy (granted it again had the leg up over everything else by having only guys, but still). She didn't relate to the FxF stuff quite as much, but it did spark her realization that she might not be straight.

Speaking of which, this is also the first time Evie starts to become familiar with the notion of same-sex romance. She didn't fully understand it at first, but eventually came around.

One of the girls in Evie's main friend group passes away. They had become very close friends by this point, pretty much best friends, but the year prior, Evie was often weirded out by and avoidant of her. So she couldn't help but feel a bit of "I have no business speaking here" when she gave her speech at the friend's memorial. And often, she still feels extremely guilty about it.

Grade 8

Evie's smutty fanfiction escapades soon lead her to discover the wonderful things that are strap-ons and pegging, as well as a trope centered entirely around women having penises. Funnily enough, these things actually takes a while to grow on her. I'm not completely sure why though.

Evie's interest in feminist/gender activism begins to take off here. She's especially vocal about the portrayal of female characters in media such as books, movies, music videos. The Twilight Saga in particular was her favorite punching bag- but this would eventually wane in about a year.

Her ire for pop music videos still very much remains strong though– as great as these songs sound and as much as she enjoys listening to them... why do they never sing about men's asses or portray men twerking and wearing sexy risque outfits? Even the songs by female artists, seemed to rely on the formula of focusing on women's bodies being sexy and men being attracted to them. She doesn't get it.

She discovers her skill and love for football this year. She's pretty good at it in phys ed and decides to give a try to the intra-school teams. Turns out she's quite good at it, even making the winning touchdown for one game.

She gets the ombre/highlights as a birthday/early-graduation present. I think it's around this time that Evie develops an affinity to anything associated with the beach or pool, and the ombre color had sort of a sandy hue to it that gave her beach vibes, so she picked it.

Evie's second Big Crush happens this year. Her expressiveness about it is worse than her 6th grade Big Crush. Let's just say she almost certainly made the guy uncomfortable. The crush would of course fade after graduation, but lord would her behaviors still haunt her.

Evie has improved a lot in phys ed. One particular new favorite is field/street hockey (they play it on a blacktop but don't use skates). It's very fun for her.

Evie is a valedictorian at graduation! She's very proud of the speech she gave.

Grade 9

Evie starts high school! This time, she's going to a public school and all of her friends from her old school are going to other high schools, so this change is very jarring and upsetting for her. She gets lost to one of her classes on the second day of school and thus started crying in the hallway until a faculty member found her and helped her find her way.

Evie gets into movies like Mean Girls and Clueless around this time (though the Mean Girls interest technically happened in 8th grade, but still). They are some of Evie's most favorite movies of all time.

Classes are hit-or-miss. She definitely shows the capability to learn all this stuff, but the higher level of education and assignments can be difficult to keep up with sometimes. She also doesn't get quite as many opportunities to show off her knowledge. But she tries her best.

She considers joining the football team, but backs out almost immediately. It's all boys, maybe they'd let her join because there's no girls' team, but she didn't want to find out in case she looked stupid for asking. And even if she did make it, she was also anxious that she'd stick out like a sore thumb.

Dress code protests in her school confuse her. Don't get her wrong, shit like the "it distracts the boys" reasoning for the dress code rules is obviously stupid and sexist and she'll happily go against that. But apparently, women wearing revealing clothing can be challenging to gender norms. It's weird to her because such clothing is still very clearly deemed as "women's clothing" and she doesn't see a lot of effort to challenge that standard. Her vocal expressiveness about those sort of feminist issues starts to falter a bit.

She loves visiting the school library. This is her first introduction to YA romance. She reads the backs of the books and is put off by almost all of them, as they come off as very gender-normative. She doesn't get the appeal at all, and she especially hates that she can't find more romance dynamics that aren't gender-normative. So begins her quest to write her own romance novels.

She gets the iconic haircut during winter break of this year. She's always been into GNC appearance styles, but she'd never really thought of having a short/"boyish" haircut until now, when starts to see a few other female public figures sport short hair looks.

Evie's third Big Crush happens this year. An upperclassman on her track team. She doesn't overstep nearly as much, but she is still very awkward about it and she definitely thinks she made a fool of herself in 50% of their interactions.

The homecoming festivities at her school make her roll her eyes. Each class does these skits that are very corny to her and have audio that is impossible to hear. And there are dance groups where, although they're very well-choreographed, feel insanely gendered.

Grade 10

Dad gets a job promotion or something (I don't think I've really figured out his job yet tbh). Cue the move to Cedar Cove and the start of Evie's story at Berry High. I hope to one day write an adaptation of the HSS trilogy to account for her experience, so I won't go over every detail here. But I will include a few details that are relevant to past points.

She develops an attraction and crush to Aiden fairly early on, but she's uber-cautious about it. Though she does try to at least take initiative to know him better, she doesn't express her attraction for him until he asked her to homecoming, making it clear that he seemed to return the feelings.

Evie is constantly anxious that she's somehow pressuring Aiden to do things he's actually uncomfortable with, seeing as Aiden gets into genderqueer/non-conforming dress styles due to her. It becomes a major point of contention later on in their relationship.

Emma's love for YA romance novels deters Evie's vocal-ness about her ire with them. She doesn't think Emma is bad for liking them, but she still doesn't get it. Nevertheless, she does not want to make Emma feel bad for liking them. Much later on, however, Evie will talk about her feelings about this topic to Emma, and in response Emma goes out of her way to find Evie some romance books that do suit her tastes more.

Evie feels more comfortable with joining the primarily-boys football team. Mainly motivated by Caleb and Julian encouraging her to join and nonchalantly shutting down Brian's sexist comments. But it means something that Evie chose to sit with the jocks at lunch, figuring that it would be worth a shot.

Evie loves being a bit of a show-off with her athletic skill during practices and games. She likes to think it is impressing the school... and her crush.

She definitely spends a lot of time playing Minecraft with Emma, Luis, Myra, Nishan, and Sakura.

I feel like Evie would be very excited about planning the Pep Rally. She gets to take charge, and add a sense of fun and excitement to the event.

She definitely prefers Berry's homecoming festivities to that of her old high school's.

Evie-loution AKA Evie's Series of Appearance Glow-Ups from Elementary School to Berry High

Important fun facts also:

She gets the ombre/highlights in spring of 8th grade as a birthday + early graduation present.

She gets the short haircut at the start of January in 9th grade.

I haven't fully settled on later high school, college, adult, etc. looks for her yet

[ropebuny]

I just want someone who will not leave when things get difficult

[faunandfloraas]

"Seungmin would be SO hot if he got muscle like, can you imagine?" You would be hotter if you shut your mouth but we can't always get what we want so <3

[shigussy]

i keep getting tiktoks of these younger gen z kids referencing a time they did something relating to fandom in public and now they're embarrassed by it and everytime i see one i sit there thinking over all of middle and high school and having genuinely 0 moments that i feel embarrassed by, like i definitely did a lot of shit these kids would be embarrassed by but i think these are all just really fucking funny

also photographic evidence of the kinda kid i was. these are from 2014/15 when i was in 8th grade

-desolation row one shot(still on wattpad gerard way/reader smut)

-twerk it on (mcr crack fanfic no longer on wattpad but i have another fic in my library called twerking in taco bell which definitely ALSO used for my reading log)

-frank iero must die(a serial killer/assassin frerard fic, still on wattpad)

-hair (really vague maybe a phanfic? nowhere in my wattpad library rip)

my binder i used in 7th grade i had a blue one that looked pretty similar to this for 8th grade but idk where it went, also the parts i scribbled out are my full legal name i had written on it. i wrote it normally and then the big spot is where i wrote my name REALLY BIG in elysian code from the vladimir tod books. also the lines are from when i used an exacto knife to cut up some papers and forgot that my binder was underneath

in conclusion yall can now see why im so shameless about talking about shigaraki the way i do

[anonymolly]

.