#THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS EVERYTHING TO ME. HELLO

[clarkeyscherry]

BF HEADCANONS // GEORGE CLARKE!

boyfriend!george... who’s the biggest gentleman you’ll ever meet.

boyfriend!george… who keeps his mullet just for you x (knows you’d literally off him if he cut it off)

boyfriend!george… his fans are obsessed with you, kind of how they are with liv and sabina. constantly asking for you to make an appearance on stream.

“is y/n there? yes she is, say hi to them.”

“hello lovelies!”

“all the comments are ‘y/n my queen’, ‘is he bothering you girl.’

boyfriend!george… who’s love language is physical touch and gift giving. will be stuck to your side at any given moment &&& will bring random stuff home to you everyday.

boyfriend!george… loves how you bond with his sister, literally means the world to him.

“what’ve you been up to today darling?”

“went shopping with emily!”

boyfriend!george… who’s secretly will match his outfit to yours on purpose.

boyfriend!george… who loves to give you pet names.

“love, sweetheart, darling, gorgeous.”

boyfriend!george… who will drop anything for you.

“guys i’m gonna go, y/n said she’s not feeling well.”

boyfriend!george… who sometimes feels like he’s third wheeling with you and max.

“i’m literally her boyfriend why am i left out…”

boyfriend!george… makes it annual for you to go on date nights, hates that people think just because you’re together now you shouldn’t be taking your mrs out.

boyfriend!george… who hates the ‘george can’t fight us all’ comments.

“i can and will fight every single one of you.”

boyfriend!george… literally worships the ground you walk on.

NSFW!

boyfriend!george… who’s a huge munch and will quite literally beg you to sit on his face.

boyfriend!george… who’s not afraid to be vocal in bed.

“shit- don’t stop.” “doing so good.”

boyfriend!george… lovessss when you leave marks and scratches on him, literally is like 😛 if one of the boys see them and points them out.

“george and y/n going at it like rabid animals.”

boyfriend!george… who’s favourite positions are missionary and cowgirl. loves missionary because it’s so intimate and he’s obsessed with looking into you eyes, but also adores when you get on top.

boyfriend!george… who lowkey loves risky sex. like when he knows chris and arthur could walk in at any minute he’ll bend you over the kitchen counter but will act like nothing happened when they come home.

boyfriend!george… this man is obsessed with giving praise ESPECIALLY “good girl” cause he knows how much that edges you closer.

DURING AN ARGUMENT!

boyfriend!george… absolutely hates arguing so will avoid it at all costs.

boyfriend!george… never ever raises his voice, will try to resolve everything as calm as possible. also is majorly patient with you if you lose your shit slightly.

boyfriend!george… always listens to you no matter if he thinks you’re in the wrong he’ll hear you out. but also makes sure you know it’s important to hear out both sides.

“thank you for telling me but…”

boyfriend!george… knew you had a bit of avoidant in the beginning due to past relationships and always asks you if he’s being too much for you.

boyfriend!george… who’s always the first to apologise cause you’re too stubborn to.

boyfriend!george… who lowkey loves if you snap at him cause you’re jealous — but if you snap at him for some other reason he’ll get upset.

i love writing these — probably will post a bf!chris next (but maybe w2s) xxx

[jjeongkii]

only you, always you — part two.

woaaah finally did a part 2 of this. sorry if it’s kinda messy i genuinely was stuck and didn’t know what to do at some part, but i hope you will like it as much as part 1. if you haven’t read part one, please do :)

bsfbrother!jk x reader

genre — smut, friends to lovers (for real this time), slight angst

summary — after the party you threw, the walls between you and jungkook slowly start to crumble, his relationship makes things messy and doubt yourself if this just some one time thing or not. but maybe it’s worth fighting still, as you both navigate the chaos, and then finally something, a new beginning.

warnings — smut, explicit sexual content, slight degradation, verbal tension, strong language, rough sex, safe sex (condom use), oral sex, teasing, some grabbing & grinding, aftercare.

word count — 2,808

note — tbh nothing to say, just be smart and don’t be like them!! ^^

masterlist

or was he?

the morning felt like a wreck, a good one. jungkook woke up and looked over at you, still sleeping. he couldn’t help but admire you, the way you slept so peacefully, like a literal angel. he gently pushed a strand of your hair away.

until— buzz buzz buzz

his phone was vibrating. he swore he turned it off last night. he wanted to ignore it, but it kept going… and going… until finally, he checked. his jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the phone like he was about to snap it in half.

his “girlfriend” blowing up his phone like it was the last day on earth

10:22am

where the fuck are you?

jungkook, fucking answer me.

why do you have your location off? turn it on.

hello? why are you ignoring my texts?

jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes at every text. that right there was exactly why he wanted to dump her ass. he could’ve done it right here, right now. but it was complicated.

he put his phone on dnd and ignored every text. dropped it face down and went back to what actually mattered.

you.

you woke up a little groggy and a bit sore. rubbing your eyes, you looked around, then saw jungkook.

a small smile tugged at your lips.

“morning.”

jungkook looked back at you. “morning.” but his tone was off.

you could tell something had happened. “is everything okay? you look… off.”

jungkook waved his hand. “don’t worry about it. it’s nothing.”

but you knew something was going on.

you raised your eyebrows, eyes narrowing a bit. “nothing? are you sure? because that nothing is telling me a lot.” your tone was firm, but still gentle. all you wanted was the truth.

after some time, jungkook was in the kitchen, just grabbing a cup of water. then you came in, arms crossed, voice cracking a little.

“what if i’m just some sex to you?”

jungkook’s eyes widened. did he even hear that right? “wait, what? god… fuck, no. what makes you think like that?”

“then end it with her. today.” your voice was trembling, but fierce. “if you don’t like her, then why the fuck are you still with her? i don’t want to be some other side hoe. or act like i’m some fucking whore who just fucked someone’s boyfriend.”

jungkook was at his place, pacing back and forth in his room until he heard the door slam open. no knocking, no nothing. and it was none other than his sister, your bestest friend.

“you really got some nerves on you, don’t you?” she snapped as she slammed the door shut.

jungkook didn’t even flinch. he just sat down on the edge of his bed, exhausted from everything that happened. his hair was a mess, jaw locked, leg bouncing. he looked like a fucking mess, and he was.

“now’s not the time, sis,” he muttered.

“no. it is the time, jungkook,” she hissed. “you really fucked my best friend and act like nothing happened?”

“what? i’m not pretending it didn’t happen,” he snapped, standing up fast — too fast that he almost tripped. “i haven’t stopped thinking a second about what happened ever since i woke up.”

“and you’re telling me you’re still with that bitch of a girlfriend of yours?” she shot back, stepping a little closer. “you literally had fucking sex and here is your ‘girlfriend’ blowing up your phone like some crazy bitch.”

jungkook just stayed silent. no words. just. silence.

“plus, you don’t even like her anymore, you stopped liking her months ago and you’re still with her? and now you’ve dragged my best friend into this shit.”

“you think i don’t fucking know that?” his voice rose, full volume. “you think i don’t hate myself for this mess? every second of it? i didn’t even mean any of this to fucking happen, okay?”

“so what now, huh?” her hands flew up. “it’s just some big misunderstanding? that you accidentally fucked and slept with, i told you to stay away from.”

“don’t fucking say that, for fuck’s sake.” his chest was rising and falling fast now. “she isn’t some mistake i made at a party, okay? she’s not some one-time thing, and she will never be. i know she’s your best friend, but in this moment she isn’t your best friend, she’s mine. she’s been mine since the first time she fucking looked at me.”

the room fell silent. but jungkook kept going, dragging his hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “i know i fucked up. i fucking know i’m an idiot, i know. but if you think i don’t care about her—”

“i— i know you care,” she cut in, her voice quieter now but still sharp. “that’s the thing. we both know you love her. and she knows too. that’s why it hurts.”

jungkook didn’t say anything. he just stood there, hands balled into fists at his sides, sweat dripping down his temple. he looked like he could explode any second.

she crossed her arms and exhaled. “you think this is easy for me? ___ is my best friend. i’ve seen her cry over you more times than i can count, even before she admitted she loved you. you can’t fuck this up.”

“i don’t wanna screw this up.. i never wanted to,” he said quieter now. “but i felt like i did..”

his sister walked over slowly. she was still tense, mad, but there was love in her eyes. “then fix it. today. as fast as possible. if you really want this, you’ll do it.”

he looked at her finally. looked at her and nodded. “i promise. i will.”

she rolled her eyes and suddenly smacked him upside the head, not hard, but enough to make him blink.

“ow— what the— what the fuck was that for?”

“for being a dumbass and a dickhead.” she pulled him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “don’t make her regret choosing you. i know how badly she feels about you.”

jungkook hugged her back. “i won’t.”

jungkook finally had the courage to do this. and he’s for real doing it. he isn’t nervous or scared. but finally built up to end it, when he should’ve ended it months ago.

he didn’t knock, just walked in since the door was unlocked (dumb bitch). she looked up from the couch, eyes narrowed like she’d been waiting to explode like a bomb.

“where the hell have you been?”

jungkook didn’t answer right away. he looked at her, and for the first time, felt nothing. then he spoke, calm and low.

“we’re done.”

she blinked like he just insulted her whole bloodline, then laughed bitterly. “pardon?”

“i should’ve ended this shit months ago. i don’t love u anymore. i just didn’t know how to say it without feeling like the bad guy.”

she stood up, arms crossed. “oh, so now you’re the victim? because of that bitch?”

jungkook met her gaze dead on.

“don’t call her that. but because of me, i deserve better than some fake ass bitch who makes me feel dead.”

he stepped back toward the door, his fingers tightening on the handle. “don’t contact me ever. we’re done. this is over.”

before she could even scream, throw a fit, anything, he walked out. no turning around. no regrets. he finally feels free.

and he’s finally done. for real this time.

now it’s late at night. you’re just sitting on the couch watching a movie when you hear a knock on the door, and you know it’s him. your heart drops.

you get up and open the door. there he is—his hair messy, his hoodie lifted up a little, and he’s breathing heavy like he just ran a whole ass marathon.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you scoff, shaking your head.

he takes a deep breath before speaking, “can i come in?”

you roll your eyes and say, “maybe. did you come here to break me like last night or to fix it?” but you still let him inside.

he thanks you and walks in. he doesn’t come close, doesn’t touch you, he just stares.

“did you?” you ask.

jungkook nods. just before you speak again, he says, “i ended it. it’s done, over. i know i should’ve done it months ago… but i was a fucking dumbass.”

you’re still angry, hurt, but relieved by it.

“you know you really had me thinking i was just some sex thing.”

“fuck no. no, just no. you think i could breathe that night?”

you look away for a second before speaking,

“you think i’m supposed to feel like some special queen after months and months of watching you pretend to love someone else?”

jungkook clenches his jaw. jeez, sometimes he just wants to shake you to make you understand.

“i never loved her, idiot. i loved you. i always fucking loved you. what don’t you understand?”

you start to walk away, but jungkook stops you. he grabs your wrist to hold you back. you freeze, your heart racing. you try to shove him, but he doesn’t move.

then his hand doesn’t move to your face. instead, it slides down your waist, teasing just beneath the hem of your shirt, pulling you flush against him, skin warming skin. you swallow hard.

then his lips crash onto yours. it’s not sweet. it’s rough, hard, and desperate like he didn’t just fucking eat you out yesterday. he bites your bottom lip gently before pulling back just enough to look at you.

“you think i’d just let you walk away like that, easy?” his voice is teasing, low, and a little breathless. “you’re mine.”

he said it like a fucking claim. like he’d branded you, like the whole world needed to know.

you couldn’t even breathe before his lips were back on yours again, rough, deeper this time.

his hands were already on your waist, squeezing you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“you drive me fucking insane,” he muttered into your mouth, teeth dragging on your bottom lip before he sucked it between his. “do you even realise what you do to me?”

you didn’t answer, you couldn’t. his mouth devoured yours again before you had the chance.

one of his hands slid under your shirt, the touch making your stomach jump, warm and slow.

he palmed your sides, dragging your shirt with it until he tugged it off over your head without breaking the kiss.

you gasped into his mouth when his fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, teasing but not giving in just yet.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, and god, he looked pissed, not at you, but at how badly he fucking wanted you.

“you think i didn’t want you when i was with her?” he muttered, eyes dark as they raked down your chest.

“i’ve been losing my mind. every time you walked into a room, in those tight outfits, like you didn’t know how hard i was biting my tongue not to fucking take you right there.”

he didn’t give you time to speak again, lips crashing back to yours as his fingers slipped into the waistband of your jeans and panties at once, pulling them down slowly, knuckles brushing against the heat between your legs on purpose.

“fuck,” he groaned, “you’re already wet.”

you tried to push his hoodie up, needing more of him, needing all of him. “take it off,” you whispered against his mouth.

“bossy now?” he smirked but obeyed, hoodie off in one motion, shirt with it. his chest heaved, abs tense as he stared down at you like he wanted to ruin you.

he reached behind you, unclasped your bra in one smooth move like he knew your body inside out. then he stepped back, eyes dragging over every inch of your bare skin like it was the last thing he’d ever see.

his hands cupped your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and he groaned so deep you felt it in your core. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

his mouth was on your chest next, licking, sucking, biting, not sweet or slow but starved.

he kissed lower, down your stomach, then pushed you gently back until the back of your knees hit the couch.

“sit.”

you obeyed. he kneeled in front of you like a man possessed, spreading your legs without a single ounce of hesitation.

his mouth was already on you before you could even react, tongue flat as he licked one long, slow stripe up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth like he needed it.

“shit— jungkook…” you gasped, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping the edge of the couch.

he groaned against you, eyes rolling back like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“taste even better than i fucking remember,” he muttered between licks. “you like that? you want my tongue deeper, baby?”

you nodded frantically, moaning as he pushed his tongue inside you, slow at first, then fast, before going back to sucking your clit like he was getting high off your sounds.

“god, you’re so sensitive,” he murmured against your pussy. “could make you come just like this again, huh? make a mess on my tongue.”

you moaned his name, needy, breathless, completely undone.

but just when you were about to lose it, he pulled back. you whined, looking down at him, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“stand up.”

you stood up, a little confused, you obeyed. he turned you around fast and bent you over the arm of the couch, your chest pressed against the cushion.

“you don’t get to come until i’m inside you,” he growled, grinding his hips against your ass.

“not after the shit you said to me. you think you’re just sex? fuck no. i’m gonna show you what the fuck you mean to me.”

you felt him reach into his pocket, heard the sharp tear of the condom wrapper, and then the hard press of his cock against you. “you ready, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding. “please…”

he pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a deep, broken moan. “fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “you feel so good. you were made for me.”

he started moving, slow and hard at first, deep enough to make you cry out. then he picked up the pace, fucking with purpose, not just for pleasure, like he needed to prove something.

“you feel that? no one else gets to have this.”

his hand snaked under you, fingers rubbing your clit hard, matching every thrust. your legs shook, your mouth open, curses spilling out uncontrollably.

he leaned forward, body flush against your back, fucking you deeper now. his voice was low, breathless against your neck.

“i fucking love you. you get that? i love you.”

you could barely breathe, trembling on the edge with each harsh snap of his hips. “come for me,” he growled. “come on my cock. let me feel it.”

and you did. you came hard, legs trembling, gasping his name like it was the only word you knew.

he came right after you—deep, guttural moans tearing from his throat as he spilled into the condom, gripping your hips so tight it probably bruised.

he didn’t pull right out. just leaned his forehead against your back, breathing heavy. then he kissed your spine, soft this time. slow. reverent.

“you’re not some side thing,” he whispered, still inside you. “you’re everything.”

his breathing was still heavy, chest rising and falling against your back as he slowly pulled out, careful now, no rush. his hands didn’t leave your hips, steadying you as your legs shook from the intensity.

he shifted beside you on the couch, pulling you into his arms without a word. his touch was softer now, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. you leaned into him, heart still pounding, the heat between you replaced by a warm, tender ache.

“you’re mine,” he whispered again, voice low but certain. “no more pretending, no more waiting. you’re mine.”

you looked up at him, eyes shining. “and you’re mine,” you breathed back.

he smiled, that rare, genuine one that melted every piece of doubt in your chest. his hands cradled your face, thumb brushing over your cheek like he was memorizing every detail.

“for real this time,” he said, voice full of promise. “no one else. just you.”

you nodded, your lips curving into a smile of relief and happiness. you were his. finally. and he was yours. wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded away.

this was your moment. your start. your forever.

[myfictionaldreams]

Hello! Can I please request something with Loki? Can either be an established relationship or just the beginnings of a new relationship where reader is dealing with awful period cramps. Like maybe reader tries to just brush it off and keep doing her job, but is clearly in pain and not taking care of themselves so Loki steps in to help reader out. Preferably a soft fluff scene where their cuddling and Loki uses his frost giant side to help keep her cool while she sleeps? I’m sorry if this is too specific.

⁀➷ Monthly Comfort // Loki x F!Reader

Summary: In the quiet corners of Asgard, a healer learns what it truly means to be cared for by a prince who notices everything.

Requested by: Thank you for this lovely request! Haven't written a Loki fic in ages so this is short but sweet!

Tags: period discussion, comfort, fluff

Words: 800+

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

You should have known he would notice.

You’d tried to keep your composure straight as you stirred the goldenroot elixir for a patient with nerve pain, even when the cramps in your lower belly twisted with cruel rhythm. You’d clenched your jaw as you walked from apothecary to infirmary and back again, never once admitting that you felt like you might pass out if you didn’t sit down soon.

But you forgot one crucial thing. Loki Odinson, prince of Asgard, mischief incarnate, and your far-too-observant lover, had spent months memorising every detail of your body language.

So, of course, when he stepped silently into the healer’s hall and found you gripping the edge of a workbench, knuckles aching with the force, and breathless, he said nothing at first.

He simply watched, eyes sharp, hands behind his back. Then: “If I ask whether you’re well, will you like me again, dove?”

You turned your head sharply, startled, your cheeks warming as you had been snuck up on. “Loki–how long have you–?”

“Long enough to watch you drop that stirring rod twice and pretend you didn’t,” he said, striding closer with calculated steps. “Long enough to hear you mutter ‘just breathe through it’, like that’s a solution to anything.”

You forced a thin smile. “It’s fine. I just need a minute. This batch has to steep–”

“It can steep on its own,” he cut in, already waving a hand. The cauldron shimmered gold and froze in time with a pulse of magic. “There. Stasis spell. No spoiling, no boiling over, and no excuses.”

“Loki–”

“Don’t,” his voice dropped, quiet and firm but comforting. “Come with me.”

He took you not to the royal chambers, but to a private library alcove no one used, quiet, sunwarmed, lined with plush cushions and velvet throws. Loki had already conjured a small, low table, already set with fruit, pastries, and two steaming mugs of tea.

“How long have you been hurting?” he asked as you sat, reluctantly, against the soft cushions. He kneeled before you, brows knit in gentle frustration.

“A few hours,” you admitted, admiring his handsome face.

He didn’t look angry; he never was short-tempered when it came to you. But his gaze lingered on your face, hands resting on your thighs, cool through your robes. “And you said nothing?”

Sighing, you said, “It’s just cramps, Loki. I deal with them all the time.”

“And bleed to death slowly every month, yes, I am aware,” he replied dryly as his hands rested on your thighs. “Your body is attempting to rid itself of an organ lining, and you’re limping around as though that’s not significant.”

You blinked. “How do you even know that?”

“I read,” he rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Unlike a certain stubborn midgarian healer who refuses to sit down when her insides are at war.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself. “I'm not Midgardian.”

“Mm. Well, you bleed like one.” He snapped his fingers and conjured a warm compass, pressing it carefully to your lower abdomen. “Here.”

You inhaled softly. The heat helped.

“And this,” he added, sliding behind you and pulling you between his legs, “is for the back.”

His hands, chilled and smooth as marble, settled on your lower spine. The contrast of hot and cold made your eyes flutter closed. “There we are,” he whispered, brushing your hair aside and pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Balanced.”

“Loki,” you groaned, relaxing back into him. “You really don’t have to–”

“Oh, but I do,” he cut in gently. “Because if I leave you to your own devices, you’ll pass out in the middle of a patient consultation and then insist it’s not that bad, whilst covered in blood and shaking.”

“... it’s my blood, so it’s fine.”

“Preceisely.”

You huffed a laugh, burying your face against his shoulder. “You don’t mind? The blood and everything?”

“My love,” he said, tipping your chin up with a cool hand, “I’m a frost giant who lives among golden gods. I’ve turned into a monster and found myself in wars. If you think I’m squeamish about a little blood from the woman I love, you must take me for a fool.”

Your heart stuttered. “You… love me?”

He blinked, then sighed dramatically. “Was that supposed to be a secret? Have I not been blatantly obvious? The fruit plate didn’t give it away?”

You laughed. “No one brings pastries for someone they hate, you’re right.”

Loki smirked. “Exactly. Now– eat something, drink the tea, and then you’re going to lie against me until you fall asleep. Understood?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious of the quick compliance.

“And no sneaking off to the infirmary the moment I blink.”

You grin, “I make no promises.”

He gave you a long, theatrical sigh and tightened his arms around your waist. “You are impossible. And perfect. And mine.”

You leaned into his touch, smiling as the magic-stilled room faded around you in soft warmth and frost-kissed comfort.

And for the first time that day, the pain quieted.

[honeymilkbeez]

DO IT FOR THE VLOG | g.clarke

summary : in which you vlogged a day in your life with george starring : george clarke x fem!reader content : established relationship | genre : fluff | warning : none a/n : hiii i’m here to hand deliver you my first george’s fic! sorry it took me a while to get it out but hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want similar to this sort of vibe!? as always, don’t forget to reblog and i’ll see you on my next fic! mwah xx

YOUTUBE

yourusername just posted a video !

@YOURUSERNAME : grwm + cosy day in my life ft. my boyfriend, 10/10 toasties, & accidental chaos 🍓🧸🫧

225K views | 1 day ago 349 comments -------------------

the vlog opened with a soft, lo-fi beat rolling under warm-toned footage: sunlight slicing through the bedroom blinds, your bedside clock and strawberry scented lip balm laid neatly next to a half-burned candle, your robe draped messily over the arm of the chair and a glimpse of tangled sheets where george was still fast asleep - face half-buried in the pillow, loose curls dangled everywhere, mouth parted just slightly.

you whispered off-camera, "ok. good morning guys. he's still dead to the world, so we're starting without him,” as you panned toward the mattress. "exhibit a," you whispered as he snored once, loudly.

the camera then cuts toward you setting the lens down on the bathroom shelf and leaned into the mirror with damp skin and sleep-swollen eyes, a fluffy white towel wrapped around your chest, your hair clipped up in a loose bun. your voice came quiet and warm as you began your intro, hands waved lazily toward the reflected mirror.

"hello and good morning again, besties. welcome back to the channel - or if you're new here, i'm y/n, i romanticise everything and live with the human version of a golden retriever. today i am once again, starting the day before george wakes up because someone keeps stealing the duvet and snoring like a power drill."

then you blinked. once. twice. zoned out in your thoughts, "okay, real start to the day," you began, clasping your hand together. "today's vlog gonna be soft and slow as i'm taking you through a day in my life. it definitely involves a bit of me filming, editing, maybe a market run and dragging george out for a walk outside if he's brave enough to see sunlight. either way, i'm fresh out of the shower, and now i'm ready for my skincare routine."

you reached for your cleanser. rubbing it between your palms.

"also, if you hear any thuds, crashes, or suspicious cackling - the beast is awake."

as if on cue, there's a loud thunk came from your bedroom.

you blinked at the camera, deadpan. "there it is."

a second later, george shuffled into frame, still in his pyjama pants, shirtless and curls still slightly flattened from sleep. without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. his body was warm against your back, all sleep-heavy and needy.

"you're filming without me already?," he mumbled, nose pressing against the curve of your neck, letting out a dramatically lough sigh.

"i didn’t know you were conscious," you replied, not even turning around. “also you were snoring, very loud.”

“lies.”

“i literally got it on tape.”

he groaned, “you better edit that out…”

"i missed you," he murmured after a moment.

"george, we were literally asleep together twenty minutes ago."

he kissed your bare shoulder, "yeah, and it was a really long twenty minutes. but now you're glowy. and smell nice too. like that vanilla stuff."

"that’s called shower gel and effort."

"exactly. fresh. lovely. mine," as he tightened his hold and rocked you gently side to side, nose still nudged into your neck.

you chuckled and met his sleepy gaze in the mirror. "say good morning to the vlog."

he blinked once, then waved lazily at the camera, still half-asleep. "morning, besties. isn't she beautiful? and i am lucky enough that i get to wake up to this every day."

you flushed a little as you glanced toward the camera again, lips twitching as you tried to refocus. "so, anyways. i'm going to take you through my skincare routine- "

george lifted his head and cut in, "her skin's perfect already, by the way. just letting you know."

"george."

"she's glowing. this is unnecessary."

you turned your head just enough to give him a look. "babe, i love you. but i will eject you from the bathroom."

he smirked, eyes twinkling. "but i'm warm."

"and needy."

"and yours."

you groaned into a smile. "ok, ok, you can stay. just- can you stop kissing my neck while i'm trying to cleanse, please?"

"never, my love."

the camera caught everything - the blush creeping into your cheeks, the way george pressed a gentle kiss on the back of your ear, and the quiet smile that tugged at your lips even as you tried to get back on track.

you raised a cleanser bottle to the lens after washing off your face. "as i was saying before, this is the cerave hydrating cleanser - classic, boring, but she never lets me down. i use this every morning, preferably without distraction- "

george kissed your shoulder again, loud and on purpose. you tried not to laugh.

" -but clearly that's too much to ask."

the shot lingered for a few seconds as you both stood there, his arms around you, your body leaning back into him like muscle memory. the kind of moment that didn't need editing - soft, real, and so clearly yours.

he kissed your shoulder softly and mumbled, "i don't want to be known as a smelly boyfriend on the internet, so lemme join."

you handed him your other cleanser without a word. he squeezed it into his palm like muscle memory. you brushed your teeth together at the sink - him using your strawberry toothpaste, you stealing glances at his bedhead through the mirror. he kept bumping your hip every few seconds, like he couldn't stand not touching you.

"we do our skincare together every morning now", you told the camera, spitting gently into the sink. "it started by accident and then it became a thing. like soft domesticity. but with less aesthetic music and more fart jokes", you chuckled.

back in the bedroom, soft morning light spilled across the floor as you sat at your vanity. the camera was now on a low tripod, capturing you from the waist up, now focused on your hands as you layered your products: serum, moisturiser, then your go-to SPF.

"next up, the ordinary hyaluronic acid for hydration", you narrated, gently pressing it into your skin. "then my holy grail- la roche-posay sunscreen. non-negotiable. even when it's cloudy. even when george says 'we're just going to tesco'."

"and i stand by that", george said from the bed, now lying flat on his stomach, watching you with his chin resting on his crossed arms. "tesco is not a sunburn risk".

"you don't get sunburn", you said. "you're solar-powered".

"exactly. i need the damage."

you laughed, tapping your moisturiser onto your cheeks. "ok. light makeup today. i've got two videos to film, but nothing to heavy. we're going minimal."

you held up your base. "rare beauty skin tint, tiny bit of concealer, cream blush - i want to look like a peach but with just enough coverage to look alive, basically."

"alive and devastating," george said from the bed, stealing your claw clip and twisting into his curls like a crown.

you glance at him in the mirror. "can you not?"

he shrugs. "i'm accessorising. do it for the vlog y'know?"

you paused, tilting your head sideways to look at him. "what are you doing for the vlog?"

"giving them what they came for."

"which is?"

"me. shirtless. holding your lip gloss. whispering sweet nothings while you try to do your eyeliner."

you snorted, shaking your head as you continued on, bouncing your beauty blender along your jawline. george got up and wandered over behind you, his arms lazily slipping around your shoulders. his chin rested in your neck, lips brushing your ear.

"you always look like a peach by the way", he murmured. "sweet. soft. ripe."

i stared deadpan into the camera and let out a soft chuckle. "i live with this by the way."

"you love this. and me."

you shake your head fondly and lean back into him for just a second before nudging him off. "go get dressed. i need to do my mascara and eyeliners without being molested." '

george smirked as he leaned in to kiss your cheek right as you start on your mascara. you flinched with a loud, "GEORGE!"

"i warned you."

"do you want me to go blind?"

"for the vlog", he said seriously, then burst into a laugh. "it's content, babe."

you stare into the lens once again. "if you ever wonder why i never filmed get-ready-with-me videos anymore...this is exactly why. this is my life."

george kisses your cheek again. you let him this time as he leaves to get ready.

after managing your skincare and (mostly) peaceful makeup routine, the video cut to a cozy wide shot of the kitchen. the camera had been placed on the corner counter as the vlog capturing your breakfast moment: you moved in and out of frame making toast, slicing strawberries, lighting the candle you kept by the kettle. as for george, he well pressed up behind you like velcro, arms wrapped around your waist, swaying to lo-fi music playing from the kitchen speaker.

“george. honey, can you give me some space so i can make your toastie before i burn it?” you asks, trying to focus while he kisses the back of your neck.

“nope. never”, he says. “i’m in my golden retriever boyfriend era. you can’t stop me.”

“and by that you mean slow-dancing with me at 9am while i’m making toast?”

he grins against your skin. “exactly. vlog needs romance.”

“guys, if you couldn’t tell by now, george is the clingiest man alive”, you says into the camera, “who doesn’t know how to let go.”

“i let go last night”, he protests. “for like, an hour, while i was streaming with the boys,” he then squeezed your hips that made you yelped loudly.

“you literally texted me mid stream to say you missed me. chat clocked you on that since you couldn’t stop giggling the whole time.”

“and you replied.”

“…yeah.”

before you could even form your next sentence, george shuffled off to the side, pulled two mugs from the shelf and started on coffee.

"no idea what i'm doing," he mumbled quietly.

"yes, you do. you called yourself the coffee king, remember?"

you walked past him to get plates, and he caught your wrist mid-step, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

the camera panned to show the breakfast laid out - toast with almond butter and strawberries, coffee in mismatched mugs, the two of you standing at the counter nibbling quietly while the city hummed outside.

as you stirred your coffee that george had so kindly made, he whispered, “tastes sweeter when it’s shared,” before taking your mug and sipping it himself.

you shot him a look.

“what?” he grinned. “we’re married in everything but name.”

back in the bedroom, you had the camera angled toward your closet while you pulled out hangers and stared at your wardrobe like it personally offended you.

“i don’t know what to wear,” you said into the mic. “we’re going to tesco and then maybe to the market, but like… i want to look cute and not too overdressed.”

george peeked his head in from the door frame while eating the last of your toast. “wear that cute jeans you just bought last week and that hoodie that you keep stealing from me,” he mumbled with a mouth full.

you narrowed your eyes. “first of all, don’t speak with your mouth full of food dude. that’s gross. and secondly, that hoodie is mine now.”

“can you believe she just called me dude?” he baffled and all you could do was letting out a soft laugh before turning around and pecked his lips teasingly.

you picked the outfit he suggested - baby blue denim pants with bows on either side of the ankles, oversized hoodie, your favourite tote - and turned to give the camera a spin. “alright, stylist george in the building but now, we’re heading out.”

the vlog picked up again in the car - you filming soft footage through the passenger window, george driving with one hand on the wheel, the other draped loosely over your thigh.

he kept turning the music for his favourite bits, then turning it down again to point out dogs on the sidewalk or funny billboards.

at one point he looked over and said, “this is perfect.”

you raised a brow at him. “what is?”

he just shrugged. “you. me. groceries.”

in the store, he filmed you pushing the cart, adding random snacks when you weren’t looking, and narrating everything in a fake david attenborough voice. you tried not to laugh. failed.

“here we observe the rare, wild beauty in her natural habitat: near the hummus.”

“oh my gosh, stop.”

you then filmed a bit of the queue while he made up fake names for you under his breath. “tell the cashier you’re from an oat milk dynasty.”

back home, the camera was back on the shelf in the living room. pr boxes were stacked around you like cardboard towers, and you sat cross-legged on the rug with a pair of scissors and zero clue where to begin.

george flopped next to you, took the scissors, and immediately ripped open a box upside-down.

you stared at the pile of packaging peanuts now covering the floor. “seriously?”

“oopsie…!” he said with a grin.

each item became a bit — you showed the lip oil, he tried to apply it and missed your mouth; you lifted out a reed diffuser, he smelled the stick and pretended to faint. it was chaotic, but warm.

“this one’s vanilla. this one’s rose. this one smells like you after a shower.”

“you have to stop saying that,” you said, laughing.

“i’m promoting your brand,” he said innocently.

he passed you a body butter and whispered, “this one’s dangerous.”

you threw packaging at him until he flopped dramatically behind you and pulled you into his lap mid-filming.

the camera transitions in the next clips captured you tidying up the lounge after filing your pr boxes while george followed you around like a shadow. you vacuumed. he flopped onto the couch. you adjusted the cushions. he dramatically laid across them like a 19th-century poet.

“you’re meant to be helping,” you said.

“i am. i’m providing moral support.”

“you’re providing chaos.”

he jumped up and wrapped his arms around your waist again, swaying you side to side.

“alright, alright,” you laughed. “this is our cleaning routine now?”

he kissed the top of your head. “this is our forever routine.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling. “do it for the vlog?”

“do it for you,” he whispered.

as evening settled, you lit candles, filmed soft pans of the fairy lights glowing across the curtain rods, and captured the two of you barefoot in the kitchen again — this time making pasta. you stirred sauce, george grated cheese dramatically over your shoulder, and the camera caught every domestic flicker like you lived inside a movie.

you sat down with bowls in hand, side by side on the couch. george reached for your leg and pulled it across his lap like he always did, the blanket tangled around both of you.

the vlog closed with one final wide shot — the two of you bathed in candlelight, bowls empty on the table, your head resting on his shoulder as the soft sound of a movie played in the background.

george kissed your temple and whispered something you couldn’t hear.

you turned to face the camera one last time and smiled.

“alright,” you said quietly. “i think we’re going to end the vlog here. i hope this felt as soft and cozy to watch as it was to live. if you liked it, let me know below. otherwise, thanks for hanging out with us. good night besties, we’ll see you in the next video!”

you reached over, tapped the camera off, and everything fell into stillness — warm and quiet and golden.

and for the rest of the night, you stayed curled against him, your skin smelling faintly of moisturiser and candle smoke, your heart so full it ached in the best way.

and that was it — soft, quiet, full.

exactly the kind of day you always wanted to remember.

------------------- 📌 pinned by yourusername georgeclarkeey: didn't know i was signing up to be a full-time barista, outfit consultant, AND PR assistant but honestly? i'd do it again x • yourusername: you forgot cuddling supervisor and certified toast thief 💅 but yes you’re hired. permanent contract. no pay x user: i want what you two have. the brushing teeth together?? the outfit choosing?? pls 😭😭😭 ❤️ by yourusername user: why is george being obsessed with her literally the most healing thing i’ve ever seen?? user: petition for george to get his own ‘chaotic boyfriend PR unboxing’ segment in every vlog now. ❤️ by yourusername user: this vlog was just 20 minutes of serotonin and i’m obsessed. more pls. weekly vlog when?? 👀 user: not me smiling at the screen like an idiot the whole time 😭 i need more domestic vlogs pls • yourusername: coming soon xx user: you both cooking dinner together at the end??? too soft. i had to rewatch it with a blanket on • yourusername: that’s exactly the vibe 😌 comfort food + candlelight + someone stealing your garlic bread user: no bc this is what ‘soft life’ actually means. warm coffee, shared skincare, george being clingy. i love it here 🧸 ❤️ by yourusername user: george in the unboxing segment had me in TEARS 😭 give him his own channel atp • yourusername: me too bestie x

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just added to their story !

↳ george and mr teddy wants you to watch my new vlog, out now on yourusername’s channel xx 💋🫶🏼

[a-writer]

Invisible String - Part 7

Not a preview but the whole part!!! Sorry it’s a long one hehe. Hope you enjoy feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!!!!<3

Azriel x reader

Warnings: smut, injuries, toxic relationship, a little fluffy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Madja’s office is always welcoming, almost like a second home. The old woman has always treated you like a daughter, more than a pupil, and your relationship has turned into something that goes way beyond potions and healing spells. You are helping her with some concoctions made of different plants and herbs, and although this kind of simple healing is not your favorite, you needed to do anything to get out of the House of Wind.

Luckily for you, Rhysand sent Azriel away on a scouting mission right after that night with him. Now it has been three days, and you know he is going to be back today. In order to get your mind straight, you came here, with Madja, where your mind kept quiet and your hands did all the work. So, here you are, mixing aloe with some calendula and a little bit of lavender oil.

“How’s your stay at the House of Wind?” Madja doesn’t take her eyes off the book she’s currently studying.

“Good.” You keep mixing, also not looking at her.

“Cassian told me you were eager to get off the House today.”

“Cassian is a busybody.” You look up at her, and she’s smiling. “I had been at the House for days, I just wanted a change of scenery.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but her silence makes you feel uncomfortable, as if you need to explain yourself, so you decide to change topics. “Have you found something on a spell that could break Koschei’s curse?”

“Not yet.” Her expression changes, becoming more serious. “But I don’t think what it needs is a spell. His curse is like a braid, full of little tendrils woven together.”

“So, it needs to be undone… Every healer would be able to do that.”

“No, not every healer. It needs to be someone quite powerful, who is able to endure the raw power of his ancient curse. Someone like you, my dear (Y/N).”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin, the mix before you long forgotten. “Why me?”

“Only the gods may know. I never discovered who your parents were, I only know that you appeared at my doorstep one day, full of light, of raw power, and I just knew there was something special about you.”

You don’t remember anything about this, you relied on what Madja had told you: that one day you had appeared outside her door, no older than a teenager, and showed her your abilities. She had taken you in, showed you everything that you know, and asked Rhysand to also trust you to work with them. And the rest is history.

Madja gets up from her chair, and you can see how old she has become these past years. She hugs your shoulders lovingly, stroking your hair. “I’ve always told you that the Mother had great things for you in store.”

“I’m not so sure about that…”

Madja furrows her brows at your words, and as if reading your mind, she hugs you a little bit tighter, her words squeezing something deep inside your chest. “Magic works in mysterious ways, you know that better than anyone else. Sometimes, what should be obvious, takes time… Magic needs to sort itself out, just like us.”

You look at her, and the words are on the tip of your tongue. What about a mating bond? Is it possible that it will take time to sort itself out, too? Your mouth opens, but before anything can come out, a strong knock at the door interrupts you. Madja walks to the door and Cassian stands there as she opens it.

“Cassian, hello.” The old woman smiles warmly at him, but he looks around the room frantically until he spots you. The look in his eyes makes your stomach twist.

“What happened?”

“It’s Az.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else as you approach him and both of you jump into the skies and to the River House.

———————————————

Cassian lands right on the entrance, and he barely has time to put you down before you’re jumping from his arms and running inside the house. Something tugs at your heart, as if in guiding you to Azriel. Your feet take you straight to the living room, and when you’re close you can smell blood.

As you open the door, you freeze and take the scene in. Feyre has her arms crossed, a grim expression on her face, Rhys is right by the couch, face as serious as his mate, and Azriel is sprawled on the sofa, his forehead caked with fresh blood coming from what seems like a big cut on his scalp. He is grasping at his side, his hand bloody from a gash there, too. For a second, you stay still, your heart pumping rapidly.

“I said I’m fine, Rhys.” His words are clipped, and he tries to stand, but a withering look from Rhysand keeps him from moving.

“What happened?” Your feet finally take you forward, and Azriel closes his eyes at hearing your voice.

“He encountered some Autumn Court soldiers.” Feyre says as you kneel next to Azriel, who is still not looking at you. “Right outside their borders, they ambushed him.”

“And they did this?” Your voice is quiet. You look over his wings and see two holes. Ash arrows, probably.

“They were looking for a fight.” Rhys’ words are clipped. “Now they have an excuse to counterattack. Azriel you’re not going on any more missions. At least for the time being.”

“Rhys I said I’m fine, this is nothing.”

“You’ve lost too much blood.” You put your hand over his head, light coming out, and he hisses.

Rhysand raises a single eyebrow at him, and Azriel clamps his mouth shut. Once you’re done with his head, Cassian helps you get Azriel’s jacket and shirt off. You concentrate on the deep cut across his hip, and not on his tanned skin and the ripped muscles beneath. Your fingers dance over the gash, skin slowly threading back together, and Azriel’s labored breathing fans over your face. You look up, his face too pale due to the loss of blood.

“He’s fainting.” You try to breathe deeply, telling your heart that he’s fine and that fainting is quite normal in these situations, you’ve seen it a million times. But your heart beats fast, too fast, as if not understanding that Azriel is not in danger. “I’m going to winnow him to a room.”

You look up at Rhys, who nods, and you winnow both you and Azriel to one of the bedrooms in the River House. You both land on the bed, and you finish quickly with the wound on his hips, putting your hands back on his head. As your magic washes over him, you see color popping out on his face once more, and his eyes flutter open, going straight to you.

You make a glass of water and some chocolate truffles appear, forcing Azriel to drink and eat. He does without protesting, the corners of his mouth quirking up at your instructions. Once he’s finished with the water and chocolates, you look over his wings.

“I’m going to let you rest and then I’ll heal the wings.”

“I’m fine, let’s do it now.” You eye him suspiciously, but agree. The earlier you get this over with, the earlier he is going to be able to rest.

“Okay, sit straighter.” Azriel slowly does as you tell him, sitting on the middle of the bed and against the headboard, his wings slumped on both his sides.

On your knees next to him, you raise a little, trying to get a good look of the small but painful hole in his right wing. Azriel’s warm hands grab your hips, and although he steadies you, you feel as if your whole body has turned to jelly.

Your hands work quickly, taking out the venom and stitching the wing back together, a small scar appearing. You breathe deeply and turn your body to work on the left wing. The wound is bigger, as if in trying to take off the arrow, he had torn the leathery skin.

You straighten your arm, one hand leaning on the headboard to avoid falling, and as your fingers start moving, Azriel squeezes your hips. You stop, looking down at him, scared that you’re hurting him. But he is looking at you, his hazel eyes glassy, his mouth slightly parted. He squeezes again, and you know what he is asking.

You and Azriel have always been able to do this, knowing what the other needs with just a simple look. You swallow loudly, but nod your head once at him. He lifts you just enough for you to move your leg across his lap, and he lowers you once you’ve settled, his hands not leaving your hips. Straddling him, you come face to face with Azriel, a small smile on his lips. Not sexual, but content. A trembling sigh leaves your lips, and you straighten your hand once more.

As you start to wove his wing back together, Azriel hisses, his fingers hardening on your hips. You stop, looking at his face.

“Am I hurting you?” Your voice is raspy and you cough.

“No, no.” He grits through his teeth. “Just sensitive.”

“Oh.” You widen your eyes. “Sorry, I’ll go slower.”

Azriel just nods at you, his eyes closed. You’re aware of wing play, you used to do it with Azriel all the time when you were together. Your cheeks redden at the thought, but you keep going, this time slower, although this wing is taking longer. Azriel keeps his eyes closed, a furrow on his face, his bottom lip between his teeth. He hisses more than once, or tightens his grip on you, and you stop for a few seconds, letting him recompose himself.

But the air feels hot and heavy, a bead of sweat travelling down the strong column of Azriel’s neck, and suddenly you want to lick it. Before you can give in to your impulses, your fingers meet skin, and you realize there’s no rip anymore.

“I’m done.” You look at his face, as he slowly opens his eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” His voice is low.

You stare at each other, neither one of you making a move.

“You scared me today.” It comes out as a whisper, but Azriel’s eyes soften at the words.

“I’m sorry.” His thumbs caress your skin over the fabric of your dress.

You reach for him, tucking a strand of hair away from his brow, and your hand travels down his face, cupping his cheek. Without thinking, you lean into him, kissing the corner of his lips. You retrieve a little, looking at his eyes, so full of love your heart constricts at the sight. But before the emotions can come pouring down, you kiss him. Slowly, deeply, lovingly. Azriel kisses you back immediately, his tongue working with yours. There’s no rush, only longing. Your other hand comes to his cheek, holding his face as if he’s some precious thing, and Azriel grabs your waist, pushing you against him, your chests flushed together.

You separate, breathing loudly, Azriel’s pupils so dilated there’s no hazel in them. You feel pressure in your chest, as if your body is asking for more, more, more. As if you will never know a time when your whole soul doesn’t crave the male in front of you. Azriel kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth relentlessly, his hands traveling down to grab your ass. You quickly separate from him.

“You should rest.” You pant at him.

“I need you.” He whispers, almost pleading. “Please.”

Something breaks and builds again in your chest, as if your whole soul is changing, morphing. You kiss his mouth softly, your lips travelling to his sculpted cheekbones, down to his jaw, until you tenderly bite his earlobe and he moans deeply.

“Let me ride you.”

You look back at him, and Azriel’s eyes are so wide you can see the white in them. He nods once, and something stirs deep in your chest at seeing him completely at your mercy. With a flick of your fingers, you’re both naked and cleaned up, and the smell of your arousal mixes with his, a musky but sweet scent that makes your head spin.

You pump his hard cock a couple of times, Azriel breathing hard at the movement, his hands squeezing your ass eagerly. You’re already soaking wet, ready for him, so you rise on your knees and guide yourself over him. Looking at his hazel eyes, you impale yourself on his dick, a groan escaping both of your mouths. His length stretches you to the point of being deliciously painful, and you stop for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of him being completely sheathed in you.

Azriel’s fingers travel up your back, goosebumps erupting on your skin, until his arms envelop you, hugging you, your bodies completely flushed. His face on the nape of your neck, he kisses your shoulder as you start moving, hugging his neck for leverage. It starts slow, Azriel peppering you with kisses across your skin, jaw, and collarbone.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers and you look down at him.

His pupils are dilated, his mouth parted, and he’s looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you feel your own line up with tears. Something cracks open in your chest, as if this is the moment of truth, as if something big is about to happen. Emotion clogs your throat, so you kiss him and accelerate your pace.

He moans into your mouth, the sex turning faster and wilder. You break the kiss, grinding on him, as his arms are still around you, holding you. You tentatively graze your fingers across the top of one of his wings, and Azriel sucks in a breath, his arms tightening on you. You move slower, as your hands explore more and more of his wings, curse words coming out of his mouth, and you lean down to lick at his neck. Azriel’s hand shoots up to grab your wrist, and he looks at you.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Good.” You give him a small smile, and start moving faster, sharper, looking for your pleasure.

Your hand keeps stroking the leathery skin of his wings, touching where you know it will make him see stars. The fucking turns more erratic as you shamelessly grind on him, and you feel your pleasure building. Azriel hugs you tighter again, bringing your body to his, and as you reach your climax, he roars and spills inside of you. At the same time, as one soul, one body. You lay there, his arms holding you, his dick still inside of you, your head on his shoulder.

You stay like this, both of you panting, and as Azriel’s fingers draw circles across your back, you close your eyes. It does really feel like home whenever you’re with him. One of his hands travels to your head to stroke your hair lovingly, and this seems so different from these past years.

Since you and Azriel broke up, it has always been about fucking roughly, about taking the edge off. Teasing and biting and quick fucks, leaving each other without really saying goodbye afterwards. But this somehow seems different. And you want to say it’s because Azriel is injured, and he’s the one who is normally in charge, but, somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s about that. As if today it was more than a hook up, as if you both needed to reassure that the other was still there.

Azriel’s hands stop after a while, and you hear his breathing go slower, deeper. As you slowly look up at his face, you see he’s asleep. Slowly, you get up, missing the warmth of his body the moment you separate from him. Before you can crawl off the bed, his hand grabs your wrist, tugging you back into him silently.

You obey, a small smile on your lips as you lay next to him, his arm across your shoulders, yours hugging his waist. A force tugs at your heart, as if your body needed to be even closer to him. You try to ignore it, resting your head on his chest.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only the sound of his steady heart like a lullaby and the recurrent thought that there will be no going back from this.

[16archive]

mitch on the current golden knights players welcoming him into the team

full transcript under the cut

"just curious, I'm sure it's been a wild little bit for you. you talked about talking to reavo [ryan reaves] and max [pacioretty]. what about the current guys on the roster, how many have reached out, or? the relationships you've had, whether it be team canada or just growing up through your years."

"yeah, I reached out, or stoney [mark stone] reached out to me saturday morning, I want to say it was? friday night, saturday morning. and then jack texted me, I think it was saturday morning. and then a couple other guys just kind of texted me throughout the last couple days. you know, got thrown in the group chat today, just kind of said hello to everyone and saw if anyone was really around town here, and. yeah, it's been a lot of fun. I mean, we're just trying to find out living style now, living wise, where we're gonna try to find our home and stay for the eight years, and. yeah, it's been great. they've been welcoming us with open arms. the wives have been extremely grateful- or, sorry, extremely helpful to my wife, and we're extremely grateful for that. yeah, it's a team that has a lot of star power, but getting to meet [shea] theodore, [adin] hill, and stoney this year at the 4 nations was awesome as well. just kind of, not just for myself, my wife's side of things, just talking to them about the living style and everything like that as well. from my side of things, wasn't too much real talk about coming to vegas at that time. it was more so just trying to win a gold at the 4 nations with those guys and just playing beside them, getting to know them very well. they were very committed, hard working guys that, you know, whatever they got put in front of that they needed to win, they just did what they had to do, and that was pretty eye-opening and special."

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hello, hello! How are you? I love the idea of soft Rex, being bashful and soft and a little awkward when the relationship starts, but I was imagining a scene where he just can’t hold himself and cannot stop - he wants the reader closer and harder and they have the most passionate scenes ever and the reader is like “yes!!!! Commanding Rex is SEXY!! Please keep goinggg!!!”

“Yes, Captain”

Rex x Reader

You’d known from the beginning that Rex was careful with you. Too careful, sometimes.

He was the kind of man who wore responsibility like armor, always watching, always protecting—always holding back. Even with you. Especially with you.

And stars, it wasn’t that you didn’t love the gentleness. The way he’d look at you like you were made of something rare, something irreplaceable. The way he’d kiss your temple before your mouth, like he was easing you into the idea of being loved by someone like him. His hands were steady but light when they touched your skin, every brush of his fingers asking Is this okay? even when you were the one pulling him in.

But tonight… something felt different.

Maybe it was the way the lights stayed low in his quarters, bathing the room in warm gold. Maybe it was the way the silence between you stretched, charged with a tension that hadn’t been there before.

Or maybe it was the way he looked at you when you straddled his lap on his bunk—like he’d spent weeks, months even, fantasizing about this moment and was barely hanging on.

You let your hands drift to his shoulders, fingers curling around the familiar ridges of muscle and armor-scarred skin. “You’re quiet,” you murmured. “Thinking too hard again?”

He gave a breathless laugh, head tilted down, forehead pressing to yours. “I’m always thinking too hard.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Let’s fix that.”

You kissed him soft—slow—just enough to coax him closer. And he came willingly, arms slipping around your waist like instinct. But even now, with your body flush against his, he was holding himself in check.

He always did. Like he thought he might hurt you if he wasn’t careful.

You deepened the kiss, grinding down against him just enough to make him groan—and finally, finally, you felt his control waver.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, lips brushing his jaw. “Don’t hold back.”

He stilled.

His grip on your hips tightened, rougher than before. And when he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, his jaw tense, breath shaky.

“I’ve been trying so hard not to lose control with you,” he said, voice low and raw. “You don’t know what it’s like. I—I want you so badly, every time—but you mean too much to me. I didn’t want to—”

You cupped his face, cutting him off with another kiss. “I want you to lose control. You don’t have to be so gentle with me, Rex. I’m not going to break.”

That was it.

Something in him snapped—not in anger, not in frustration, but in hunger. Need.

He surged forward, kissing you hard, kissing you like a man who’d finally been given permission to feel everything. His hands dragged down your back, pulling you in, grinding you tighter against him. No hesitation now. No holding back.

“Closer,” he growled, voice hoarse with desire. “I need you closer—I can’t—I can’t get close enough—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as he pinned your hips to his and began moving with intent, all control and heat and command.

And gods—this was new. This was Rex in full Captain mode, but it was for you. Every motion purposeful. Every sound a growl of pleasure. Every kiss deep, claiming, almost desperate.

“Rex,” you moaned.

That did it.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them gently above your head as he shifted you both down onto the mattress, his body covering yours, heat radiating from every inch of him.

“I’m not stopping,” he promised, voice dark and shaking with want. “Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”

And when you looked up at him—at that wild, hungry look in his eyes—you believed him.

⸻

[orangez3st]

Two Seconds to Breathe

Marshal Commander Neyo × GN!Jedi!Reader

Season: Spring - Clone × Reader Prompt-a-thon ✧ @cloneficgiftexchange

  ✧ Prompt: Visiting a planet that is flourishing with new spring blooms but is destroyed by war.

  ✧ Summary: Your home planet was invaded weeks ago, and your division is tasked to recon. Neyo keeps you from breaking down.

  ✧ Tags & Warnings: established relationship, forbidden romance, clone x general relationship, longing, angst with happy ending, reader likes apple juice, not the stereotypical "fuck the code abt attachments" love thing

  ✧ Word Count: 2.4k

  ✧ A/N: I swear there's something about rare commanders bcs I've done something poetic like this with my Bacara angst fic. And so it's another title snagged off Lana Del Rey lyrics! It's called Fingertips and the strings are so heavenly and very fitting to the vibes, but this isn't a songfic. Hope you enjoy this one vode! 💛🌷

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | divider by me

“Our carrier shuttle is ready to land planetside, sir. Awaiting your orders.”

Among the machinery hum and quiet chatter of navy officers, you remain silent. Hands solemnly behind your back, you stand by and gaze out the viewport of the very cruiser of your command. The Admiral is standing to the side in a similar position, although the stress laden in his countenance is much greater than yours. Time-sensitive. Navy is his command, but the infantry is entirely yours, and you're stalling.

“General,” Marshal Commander Neyo calls again, firmly this time. As anyone always knows him to be. “Orders. We can't stay long floating in orbit.”

“How many would there be?”

From standing just a couple of steps behind you, he straightens. “One full platoon, sir. We couldn't utilize the BARC’s due to unpredictable terrains, hence thirty-six AT-RT operators will be deployed.” Neyo gives a meaningful pause. “As briefed.”

For a moment it seems what he fears the worst of you has taken you yet again and dragged you deep down. You're quiet again, your thoughts consuming you. He knows what this is about. You've confided in him before you were given the order by GAR command to recon your home planet, torn by war and its nature marred with evident destruction. But it's simply not the time.

“Proceed, Commander.”

Neyo allows relief to flood his entire being. He gives a sharp salute. “Yes, sir.” And then he leaves.

Giving the order to his lieutenant is easy—a mere comm away. He doesn't need to be there since his commanders overseeing the departure at the hangar will report to him soon, also since he's had more important things to look after to.

Neyo starts a trek to your quarters. He glances behind his shoulders once in a while before reaching the damned durasteel door and hastily punching your key codes before anyone could see. It whisks open, and he slips inside so it closes again to conceal his presence.

Then his bucket comes off, a deep inhale of the scent of you follows a second after. Even your room smells entirely and exactly like you, with the same scent his nostrils consume when he crushes his face into your neck in a lover's embrace.

Your pillow is tilted. Bedsheets wrinkled. Your styluses scattered on your desk and your datapads aren't stacked neatly enough. You forgot to hang your bathrobe again today, and yet your towel is in its place. Neyo replaces it all, the soldier instinct inside him keeps pressing that everything has to be kept tidy. He steps into your adjacent refresher and nods in satisfaction that somehow everything is in its place, including your toothbrush that every other weekend he always finds lying on the sink and not in the holder.

The door to your quarters suddenly opens, revealing you in the midst of frowning and giving in to your deepest concerns again. You're a little too late to realize that Neyo is there, standing with his arms crossing his chest.

“Hello, you.” And still, you're trying to smile. You always do, when you meet him secretly like this. “Is everything okay?”

He stares at you, and refrains from saying the obvious. “I've sent our men,” he answers curtly, the marshal commander temporarily taking over. “Our commanders are closely supervising and would only report if there's anything worth finding.”

You grab a glass and your cool apple juice from the conservator. “Very good.”

Watching you pouring the juice into the glass, Neyo releases a sigh. He gives himself the satisfaction when you space out again, seemingly either mulling over the fate of your planet or cleverly masking your helpless state, before walking over to you and gently prying the glass off your grasp. A quiet thud echoes through your room as he carefully places it down on your desk.

“Darling.” He takes your hands gently into his gloved ones. “Talk to me.”

He knows you're not the kind to ignite an argument with ‘I’ve told you before’ or ‘We’ve talked’ and he's using that knowledge against you. He's testing you—testing your patience, to see how much further until you crack and crumble. Or not. Either way, he'll still be there, and he is still here now holding your hands, as if anticipating you would really fall to your knees and sob your heart out over the destruction of your planet.

“It is now supposed to be spring.”

At your faltering voice, Neyo quietly widens his arms so you can walk into them and wind your arms around him as tightly as you can, and you're now barely hanging on to keep your calm composure.

“My planet grows the most beautiful flowers in all of Mid Rim during spring,” you begin, voice hushed and muffled against his chest plate. “There's no other planet in this galaxy that grows most of them, and to their belief it's the highest blessing. Not to compete against Naboo, but they are so captivating. Farmer is a common job, florist even more. We have all kinds of flowers for all kinds of seasons. Spring, summer, fall, winter. Even rain and dry seasons.”

Somewhere during that, you've leaned with your chin on top of his chest plate. Neyo wipes your fallen tear with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

“There’s this very rare flower that really couldn't grow anywhere but in their soil.” You allow yourself a small fond smile. “When they bloom, the wind would blow over their pollen and it produces the most beautiful melody of sounds. It's as if they sing, quite blissfully, that they finally blossom and get to dance in the air before finding themselves mates to latch onto.”

Neyo listens to all of it carefully, but he can't help the frown. “I don't quite understand that.”

You scratch at a stubborn jagged bit on the edge of his armor. Although a smile smears on your lips. “They have holes to ‘sing’ their tunes. The shape is like a musical instrument. Are you familiar with the flute?”

“Unfortunately no,” Neyo says regretfully.

“That's okay.”

“From what you describe, it sounds like a wind instrument.”

“It is,” you nod. “Often present in a certain type of orchestra.”

“Ah.”

“And they would create the finest harmony of tunes one would ever hear,” you carry on. “I can't remember the last time I've seen them since the Guild took me when I was just 3 years old, but I've watched holos of it. They're remarkable.”

The talk goes on. He listens. You don't break down, and instead sip on the apple juice that he offers every time your shoulders start shaking. It works, since it shifts your focus from the current problem at hand to the sweet and sourness of the beverage. You combat your emotions. He's there to make sure of that.

And after making sure you've gotten ahold of yourself, Neyo decides to depart and resume his duty, but not without a kiss to your lips and forehead before sliding his helmet on again and slipping out of your quarters.

Then he opens his channel to give a new direct second-priority order. Technically it was to salvage anything of value and report it to command, but clad with the highest given rank in the 91st—second to you—apparently allows him to alter his own orders.

Neyo worships you. Doing something for you is like turning the back of his hand, yet giving what might heal your broken soul is like breathing on a foreign planet where the built-in air quality reader in his helmet wouldn't cooperate. He could've breathed toxic fumes and endangered himself, but he needs to breathe anyway although his lungs would crumble and his systems shut down.

As long as you thrive and dance and lead with grace and lightsaber clipped to your sash.

His platoon reports back with all-green mark, every single criteria on their recon checklist cleared. Neyo escorts you aboard a larty per protocol for closer inspection, and you're seen holding back tears again, your back to them while your hand is stiff, clinging onto rails. The cabin light turns red as it breaches atmo, and it paints a silent image of tragedy onto your person. His commander—his confidant—beside him passes a questioning glance, and Neyo could only nod to confirm.

Yes, you're being vulnerable now, but your strength is in the process of building your walls back up. And Neyo will be there too if it crumbles again, restoring and applying layers of steel. Anything that'd pull you back to being the emphatic serene Jedi that you are.

Then the turbulence stops, and the cabin turns green. You take a deep breath as the side door opens to reveal a world you once knew.

Or perhaps not since they took you when you were much younger, but you've only had images from the archives and holonet that paint a beautiful, peaceful green planet. Mountains, ridges, rivers, rich blue oceans with streaks of white clouds over them.

But now, barren wasteland is all you could see. It stretches far beyond the horizon. It used to be a green lush valley, one of your commanders told you. The mountains are mostly unaffected, but the vast meadow of grasslands are scorched black and bare. In the distance you could spot the city ruins. You can't be sure whether it used to be your home—there are tens of thousands of cities on this planet. Either way, it leaves a strange feeling. Like betrayal. Because you didn't put up a fight. Your parents trusted and passed you on willingly to the Jedi, blossoming fully into a flower of hope that they'd hoped you to become.

“Sirs,” Neyo’s commander says, “Main site is ready for inspection. Zero Separatist presence. They've totally left the planet.”

It's as if the commander deliberately said that to you, because maybe the fear hasn't left you. He could see it. But he's very kind.

“This road seems walkable,” Neyo says, as you observe the scorched brick road, far into the city. His voice plunges into your focus as well. “I want the gunship up and running in case they decide to jump out on us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Never trust intel. Anything could go wrong.

“General.” Neyo turns to you, careful not to lay a hand on your shoulder out of concern. Instead, he lays them over his sidearm holster. “Whenever you're ready. I'll lead.”

You give a silent nod and finally step out of the gunship. There is this creeping fear that the ground you walk on would suddenly swallow you out of scorn. Neyo follows close behind you, and his commander several steps behind.

“I know what you're thinking right now,” Neyo says quietly, voice rattling through his bucket in low volume.

You exhale lowly. “It's my home.”

“Was,” he corrects you—a small warning about attachments.

“I was born here,” you justify. Neyo goes silent. “But you're right.”

He doesn't prompt any further; about your family, whether they're still alive. As much as his affection towards you goes unchallenged, he didn't command his best men to slice into the Jedi database. They probably don't keep things like that in their archives. An old life left behind. One, such as you, doesn't need them anymore. And he’s always there upholding your belief, providing himself as a wall to keep you from falling.

The conversation ends there. The rest of the walk is silent, you giving occasional glances to your surroundings. Ruins, scorched and crumbling. Lush trees that are no longer there. Your eyes are wistful. Neyo prefers to believe it's your empathy toward the destruction of intricately carved pieces of nature, and not personal.

The entry to the city is a system of labyrinths. Broad corridors with walls made of big blocks of limestones, the sky as ceiling. Rubbles are scattered along the road, sometimes blocking your path but quite easy to climb and hop over to the other side. The longer you go, the blander your fear has become, and you've come to terms with what might be on the other side.

But then you see it.

A round clearing where your recon troopers are observing their surroundings, most of their helmets off. A fountain in the middle which structure became yet another victim during the Separatist attack, but the water system isn't damaged and it flows slowly corroding the stones and gaps between bricks. And in those moist gaps, grows dark lush green grass with wee pink and white buds at the tips. And beyond that, a blur in the background that comes to clarity once you set your eyes upon it, is a blossoming tree. The color of their leaves remind you of the lightest shade of sunset in the red spectrum, their white flowers blooming fully as if relishing in the peace—whatever that harmed them had passed.

The walls are crowded with vines. Not only does your sight is graced with green and grey and beige but also every bright color that nature could offer. Your heart surges, the Force draping over your shoulders like a soothing weighted blanket. This place has always been strong with its presence. The moment you breathed and took the clearing in, you knew. You're left mesmerized, your lips part open in awe, and your troopers act to their prior absent knowledge of nature that is wonderfully iridescent and serene and miraculous and real.

Neyo stands off to the side, quietly admiring the view long enough to commit them into memory. He takes snapshots with his visor as discreetly as possible. This is his overriding command. And it's worth it. Seeing you mended is worth it.

“Sirs. We've come in contact with our specialist contractor and sent our readings,” one of his sergeants reports, a datapad in hand. “They said that this planet… still grows. Despite all the bombings that occurred, the quality of the soil isn't affected. Spring comes around and it's as if they don't care at all. Flowers blossom as if nothing happened.”

“Because this planet is blessed with growth,” you sigh, a relieved tear slides down your cheek. “There's hope still. For life, here.”

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @msmeredithrose @heidnspeak @lucyysthings @emmaw18 @leiopython-rat @gh0st-c0mpany @br00kthe0takuuuu @ct7567329

A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided ⬆️)

[missedloveletter]

Hello i've been reading your writings about Wind Breaker and i love them! anyway i have a request which was inspired by one of your previous posts (your Headcanons about them in a relationship, specifically the one about Umemiya). It's about Reader constantly complaining to Umemiya about not having time to spend together, which leads to Umemiya saying something cruel like 'then why are you with me if you know that's what my life is about' or i don't know! but something cruel that causes the relationship to end. Pure angst i know 😭 if you can't do it that's okay! Thank u

OMG....how hurt you...Damn lol 😭

But your wish is my command.I will make a small twist so there.mignt be hope of redemption But it will be Angst.... ANGST..... Angst

🖤•Wind Breaker boy•🖤

Umemiya ANGST

You loved Ume.

And Ume loved you....right.

You know that being with the head of the sole separation of those that mean bad will to the people of your town...and a whole leader of a gang would be hard.Meaning lonely nights and leaving when called but,this was too much.It felt as If you didn't have a boyfriend but a men that gave you an apology card with chocolates for every missed date.

You missed Ume....Your Ume.The one that made time for you and gave you real loving apologies that lead to another date not....nothing.

Ume has been consumed with work and fights and rival gangs.He was worked up.With all the stress he was no longer the Ume that was light hearted and the heart the eased others....he was....Gone.he wasn't mad....like going to the dark side but he was the leader of Bofurin....and the leader of Bofurin only.

You were left in the dark and It hurt you......Deeply.

You wanted to see Ume and maybe give him something to ease his nerves.You you skipped your way to the tea shop.The shop was warm with herbs laying dry on the counter and shelves.A truly cute little shop placed snuggly in the corner of town.

"Hey y/n...You are here for the lavender as usual?"The shop keep saying with a warm familiar tone to her voice.All you can do it smile thinking of your new hope of seeing your boyfriend...showing him happy to see you.See him relax a little.

"Yes but give me a bit extra as I'm planning to make an extra cup".All she can do is smile at your response and ready your tea leaves.

With all your supplies you make your way to the school grounds.You we're treated with kind smiles from all the boys and they helped lead you where your beloved Ume is.you made your way to the announcement room where Ume was passing around the room biting his nails.

"Ume....I came to check on you and-"

"What is it y/n....I'm sorry but I'm too busy for a visit"

"no I....I wanted to see you...I'm sorry.I wanted to help with your stress and all,I came with lavender tea.I just wanted to help.....to actually see you"

It was obvious Ume was holding back a sigh, Pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut trying to ease whatever headache that was inflicting him."I'm busy y/n I cant see you now but I'll see you later today ok..."

"But....that just the thing Ume....You don't....I feel like.....You don't want this.Want me.I know your busy and I'm trying to be understanding but I never see you.Im so lonely why are you always away with everyone but me, I-"

"Y/N STOP....I can be with you because you being needy is not important...You just to much GOD"

...

...

"Oh....I'm sorry",his words stabbed you right in the heart.It Gutted you.All you wanted was to help Ume and be with him.But it seems that that's everything that he didn't want.

"Oh my Goodness y/n...I....No I didn't mean-"

"No ..No really I g-get it...I'm so sorry.."big full tears bubbled at your eyes and fell down your cheeks, You couldn't stay here....this embarrassment...this rejection, so you ran slamming open the door exiting the room and running down the hall avoiding all the faces that seem like there's watching your every move and casting judgment.you soon where out of the school grounds....seeing that your lavender was left with Ume in your hurt as you made your fast and needed except so you where empty handed....No relaxing tea for either of you.

Will that the weight from what just happened you fall to the floor crying all your hurt from today....and All the other day where he was nowhere in sight.

..............................................................................................

Ume felt stabbed.Seeing you like that.He was the one that didn't.He was the Cruel creature that grabbed your heart and crushed it,You where his perfect loving partner...and He did that to you.

All that was left of you was the lavender that was scattered across the floor.It messed like you didn't notice you dropped it in your haste of an escape.He messed up...

Big time.

No letter and chocolate can fix this one,Maybe it didn't fix anything.He was so wrapped up in his work that be felt the one person he wanted by his side....He....Hurt you .....today and all the days befor this one.Soon Ren stepped into the room, face all serious and cold, Shoulders back and arms tense...like he was going into battle.a fight with Ume.

"What the Hell was that Umemiya....What did you do to them!?"

"I-"

"I HONESTLY DONT WANT TO HEAR IT...You...You have strayed off the path you fought so hard to pave....You don't deserve them and anything they have given you because you haven't registered it for who knows how long...I don't know who this is but this isn't The Ume I know...And I don't follow those how hurt the hearts of others... especially those they claim to love".

Ren soon leaves the room slamming the door hard having the sound beat through the hall.Ume could only fall to the floor....what had he done....and what has he become.He lost him self in the work and rage.

................…...…..………….......................................................

You finally got yourself together enough to walk yourself home.

This was the end for you and Ume.You could feel it.You don't really want to be with him will after all he's said now anyway.

As you make your way into the street leading you home you felt a warm hand on your shoulder....Ren.

"Ren?"

"Hey....I'm ...I'm so sorry"

Tears started to pool at your lashes once more...."I know....I know...I'm so sorry....I'm here for you ok....you deserve more then that.."

All you could do was fall into him, leaning on to his frame for support."It's ok....I'll walk you home."

......

I hope you liked my interpretation of this request.... And low key it kind of unfolded into a slightly implied Ren x reader.... A fun surprise for the both of us I guess.

BYEEEEEE🖤

[internetladyfables]

[Headcanons] Nikolai Gogol/Mykola Hohol: in a Romantic Relationship

cw: self-indulgent, possible OOC, fluff, female reader.

Requested by anon.

Simultaneously craves closeness and connections, and is afraid of emotional dependence and being shackled down by it. He constantly fights the urge to genuinely care for you because it contradicts with his ideas of total freedom. He teases you, then distances himself, and then comes back with dramatic displays of affection as if he hasn’t seen you for eternity.

Because of that your relationship with him is not ‘conventional’. He says he doesn’t care about attachment, yet he sticks around you a lot. Though, he twists the situation in such a way that it seems like you are the one who misses him that much and can’t live without him. “Ah, I know I’m that irresistible so that you can’t even live freely without my presence~”

Loves to call you various nicknames that can change daily: from simple ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’ and ‘little dove’ to something chaotic like ‘lovely paradox’ (because to him you are), ‘my beautiful curse’ (a reminder that loving you is both a gift and a torment) and ‘fluffy menace’.

Is a gentleman… but in his own way, like he’s playing a role on a stage: he’ll bow dramatically, kiss your hand while spinning you in a circle, and say something like: “Allow me, my dearest, to escort you into the abyss of love~”

He may open doors for you with an exaggerated bow, kiss your hand while calling you ‘my liege’ or ‘my queen,’ offer his coat when you’re cold, or insist on walking on the outer side of the sidewalk — but expect these to come with dramatic comments like “Fear not, my dear, I shall shield you from the horrors of the dangerous side of the street!”

Teasing is his love language. He pushes buttons, plays mind games, and gives you odd little "tests" just to see how you'll react. But he's very attentive and remembers everything, even the things you thing he doesn’t notice. “You’re the most interesting thing I’ve ever wanted to keep in a cage — metaphorically, of course… unless?” No matter what your reaction will be (a side glance or non-harmful punch), he’ll only laugh loudly at your reaction.

Loves to drape himself over you, hang off your shoulders, tug on your sleeves, play with your hair — it’s his way of saying “I want to be near you.”

Though, he rarely asks for affection directly, but initiates strange games that result in closeness: “Oh no, it seems we’re stuck in this closet for now, I guess we have to hug.”

His ability is versatile — expect spontaneity with it at every turn — he’ll teleport in out of nowhere, hang upside-down to say “hello” or appear suddenly behind just to say something flirtatiously ominous: “You looked bored without me”, pull out little gifts for you, or use it to keep you safe without you knowing it. He won’t tell you he pulled you out of danger last second — he’ll just wink and say: “Lucky you to have someone who looks after you~”

Has his rare vulnerable moments where he lays his head on your lap and looks at you with something resembling awe, like, “How are you real in this horrible world?” — basically him saying ‘I love you” that way.

Despite his fear of any attachments, he remains committed to the relationship with you and his loyalty is unwavering — even if he doesn’t say it out loud, you can really say that Kolya really cares about you, but in his own odd way.

Speaking about his name. No one calls him Kolya, not anymore… only you. It feels intimate, familiar, dangerous and warm. And he hates how it makes his heart stutter. “So, you’re trying to domesticate the storm, hmm? Kolya is your pet name for me now?” Surely, you may try to call him pet names, but the shortening of his name hits differently.

[9w1ft]

Hello, sorry I came here to bitch and moan but I don't understand what's going on. Taylor didn't acknowledge pride month?? Like... I understand that it should mean something but what? What stopped her from writing three words "happy pride month"? It's so hard to keep hoping tbh because there were too many empty Easter eggs and too much stunting.

I have two things that still help me not give up:

1. A photo of old "dead" Taylor with 11 cats representing her albums in Anti-Hero, and ttpd being 11th album, so it supposed to mean her 12th album should be a brand new era from a brand new Taylor

2. She has been burning down Lover House every show for 1,5 years, that also represented her whole life.

These two things don't let me become desperate. Also a little bonus:

In may of 2023 she said that her life has a meaning now and that she's so happy. I see it this way: she had released before and still release albums, she had tours before the Eras Tour, she broke up (two months prior saying) with a guy who she was 6 years with - and she tells that she's happy and her life has meaning? For me her words meant that in her life was (amd is) happening something that we don't know and don't see (saying "we" I mean all fans and GP, gaylors of course see and understand everything). And I like to think she feels that her life finally has meaning because she is preparing to come out of the closet and see the Daylight (and maybe lead the others, mass coming out truther here 👋)

But sometimes it's so hard to be positive. Idk I think if coming out was close, she would get rid of Travis already. Sometimes I wish she wouldn't give us hope and wouldn't give so many Easter eggs for us to notice and to keep our hope high, because it's getting exhausting. I'm a gaylor since 2023, I have no idea how do you guys still have hope since 2014/2016/2019...

aw anon, i’m sorry you feel this way about things! maybe you are here for commiseration and not answers but i’m gonna go ahead and give you some constructive ideas. and sorry that this post got long!! but hopefully there are one or two things you can pick up that work for you. alright well, for context, i’m a kaylor that has been blogging since early 2018.

firstly, a couple of quick notes..

i forget if it was 2020 or 2021 but there was a year where taylor posted one (1) instagram story on june 1st saying happy pride and then did Nothing Else and people were up in arms about it the whole month and months after. so i get the sense that taylor has come to the personal conclusion that half measures are simply unacceptable for ‘us’ and so she would rather not say anything.

and there is a weird fandom tension around these parts sometimes where people will be asking for her to do more and do nothing at the same time. i think you closed off you message as well with a similar refrain, that your hope that if she’s stunting that she would do nothing. i have some unexpressed thoughts regarding easter eggs and the state of the fandom at large but setting that a side for a second, i think that, if the themes of ttpd are any indication, she’s taken off the mantle and isn’t putting as much energy into pleasing people who show displeasure at attempts she makes. this is just my take, but.

here’s a post i recently wrote that will convey my thoughts about the “too much stunting” of it all. please read it!

i think for me, what helped me transition to where i am today is that along the way i stopped seeing “taylor coming out” as taylor’s end goal, and i reoriented my personal goals as well!

nowadays, probably for the past couple of years, i see taylor’s main goal as prioritizing her loved ones, and my personal goal for taylor has been that she finds a way to live happily with the love of her life. maybe in the past taylor had different goals taking top priority, maybe one of them was coming out, but i do think that a key theme of her discography has always been finding the love of her life and living happily ever after and i dont think that’s just to sell albums (think about how the lover music video begins and ends) and so i don’t think it’s that wild to think that right now taylor’s priorities lie here, in building something. and, speaking as a kaylor, being a kaylor makes a lot of what is happening just make a lot more sense. not total sense! but a greater amount of sense than all things comingoutlor. i do not speak on behalf of all kaylors but speaking for myself, i haven’t felt the need to give up and i haven’t felt let down because there’s nothing to give up nor a theorized end date or start date that i was looking forward to. to me, taylor has already reached the goal that ive perceived.

when you reorient things and look at it this way, that she’s prioritizing her loved ones and her private life, where you see taylor’s decisions and actions as being self interested and not for ‘us’ the fans, it becomes easier to not see things as hints or promises towards the future. taylor doing gay things during pride month are then not easter eggs for us, they are rather her expressing her queerness during pride month as a queer person who is closeted.

and it’s not that i don’t think taylor will never come out, it’s just that i think she’ll do it on her own time and when it makes sense for herself, not for ‘us’ or anyone else. and it’s contingent on it being something that’s beneficial to her life and the life of her loved ones.

this next part i’m hesitant to write out because it feels like i’m talking down and i don’t want to be talking down on anyone 😢 please understand it’s not my intention to be. sometimes i write similar things but im always dancing around it because its really hard to find a kind way of saying it. it’s just that.. i don’t think taylor or her loved ones should rearrange their lives around the feelings of her fans.

for example, to circle back to easter eggs for a second.. is it a good thing to see them quietly expressing their queerness or affection for one another as an empty promise to the fans? something to be upset about or offended by? i just am not sure if that is the best way to go about things. should closeted people not flag during pride month? is taylor’s situation somehow different, maybe? if so, in what other ways is her situation unique? i feel like it would be a lot easier on ourselves if we de-centered ourselves from their actions or from things we see as easter eggs, and instead just observed and followed along to the extent that we find it interesting or meaningful to ourselves, and find other guiding lights if that feels necessary, you know?

to touch on my easter egg thoughts.. since the advent of tiktok, the expansion of the gaylor fandom, and the exponential growth of her fandom through midnights and the eras tour, we have reached a volume of fans which will statistically speaking be able to notice and point out several times more things that look like easter eggs, than was the case in the past. there are so many things you can find out there and i just think it’s important to remember that some number of things that you’ll end up noticing or seeing people put together just won’t come true. and it’s not even people being ‘delusional’ it’s just a matter of the sheer number of eyes on taylor’s actions looking specifically for easter eggs. some amount of things might pan out to be true. but statistically, the vast majority simply won’t be and i think it’s important to be Okay with that. or maybe it’s like.. you know how the old queen of england pretty famously would pick out clothes and jewelry that had meaning or for her to like express her thoughts or to convey feelings when attending public events? (there’s historical documentation on this). well she wasn’t ever like… hinting at the future 😂 like maybe taylor is just most of the time doing things in a similar way. things have meaning but not all things are pointing to something, you know? maybe that’s a different way to try thinking about it.

speaking in theory, it would be a huge benefit to queer people everywhere, and society at large, for a bunch of public figures to come out en masse. or even just for taylor to. i don’t want to sound dismissive of this. i was really invested in this back in like 2018-2019. in theory, it is undeniable and i don’t intend to refute it. it’s simply that, speaking contemporarily, i am firmly unconvinced that taylor is about that life and i think it’s important to recognize that. think about songs like anti hero, sweet nothing, or dear reader. really listen to those lyrics. “did you hear my covert narcissism disguised as altruism” “and the voices that implore you should be doing more, to you i can admit, that im just too soft for all of it” “i prefer hiding in plain sight” “spilling out to you for free, but darling darling please, you wouldn’t take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where i was walking” and there’s some other stuff on ttpd as well but i think midnights is written out much more softly and might be easier to consider.

now as a kaylor, when she gives speeches where she’s saying she feels her life has meaning, like how she did throughout tour, i would offer the idea that it’s because she has entered a new stage in life that is very rewarding. from a kaylor perspective, statements like this from taylor make plenty of sense separate from a conversation of if she’s coming out or not. because there have been one or two …or three, happy things that have theoretically newly entered her life in recent years. i know you’re a gaylor and probably not a kaylor but i hope you can understand the rationale that a lot of kaylors have here. one last thing that i wanted to add my thoughts on, if you would allow me.. i don’t know how exactly to put this but i do think it is important to respond to: your life can have meaning without being out of the closet. i am not sure of your personal orientation or identity but for anyone out there: please, please do not hinge your self worth on coming out, especially when we all live in such a hostile society. you are worthy of love and your life has meaning regardless of if you divulge it to people, some of whom might harm you for doing so. you don’t owe your personal truth to a hostile public. find your people. celebrate with your chosen family. and take pride in your identity. but please do not sacrifice your personal safety in pursuit of an ideal or think that your are incomplete for not being open and out. you are already complete! your life already has meaning.

[those-rainbow-ninjas]

Only you.

[king-lena]

never getting over mac’s texts to dennis 🥺

[itsmespicaa]

Augh the way you draw the Lambo twins... augh my heart... they are so precious...

Got any headcanons on what you think cogged Sunstreaker looks like?

omg anon i was legit about to post my attempt at drawing cogged Sunstreaker...your timing is impeccable

but yea here's my attempt at designing him!! I'm very proud of the helm design, but the chassis....not so much lol. I'll probably replace the window for something more "cybertronian-like", but er (as you can see) I put waaay more thought into his helm ahaha

I wanted to make sure it still reads as a design evolution of his cogless design while still retaining his iconic features (his earfins!!), and most importantly, that it complements SIdeswipe's design as well.

I definitely want to keep the iconic black square/trapezium on the top of his chassis as an homage to his original toy and G1 design, but everything else about his chassis is subject to change :D

as for headcanons...I'm borrowing heavily from his original toy description here: "Tough polymer-steel skin resists artillery" so he'll have a bit more bulk than Sideswipe even though their frames are near-identical and they have the same height.

I just love the idea of Sunny being able to tank more compared to his twin who's more agile. I know this concept isn't foreign because I've read a few fics that alluded to this too so that's nice!

Honestly tho I hope we get to see his actual cogged design in the sequel (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASPLEPLPEAPLS--)....✊😔 here's to manifesting

[sunnibits]

potentially hot take but this is a pet peeve of mine

[ssugar4thepill]

just cursed him out in my journal <3