#it really IS hard to send stuff and I get that

[iamactuallysocute]

Hi! I’m a super fan of your Saja boys work, I love how you curated their personalities! I had a Q about Baby. Since he’s so reserved in a relationship I was wondering what it would look like if the Reader was just… done? Like treated it like the situationship he’s been acting like their relationship is. Sees other people. Him cold shouldering you wouldn’t make you crawl back this time. You could be done with him but he isn’t done with you. Thoughts?

BABY SAJA – LOYALTY IS WASTED ON MEN LIKE YOU!

Emotionally unavailable? Say less, you’re in! Dating Baby was never going to be easy. He’s rude, way too pretty, and emotionally repressed. But you were ready to give him everything. Turns out, the only thing that made him realize your worth was watching other men fight for it.

cw: implied fem reader, toxic relationship dynamics, (mild) gaslighting, neglect, unresolved codependency(love me but also leave me but also love me), reader being sad, one sided love, sexual content(not outright smut, just mentions), jealousy, cursing, chronic “I can fix him” syndrome, this fic may cause you to reflect on your own red flag history, not sure if it’s in character

You try. You really fucking try. You send him sweet texts, patch up his bloodied jackets after the girls almost skin him alive again, cook him food he doesn’t even eat, and still get less affection than that lollipop in his mouth.

He’s not cruel, not really. He’s just… a dick. A dick who treats your relationship like it’s a monthly subscription he forgot to cancel. He doesn’t hold your hand. He doesn’t call you unless he needs something. He ghosts you mid-convo. He doesn’t cheat on you, because that would require effort. He’s not putting energy into anything, least of all love.

He likes you. Wouldn’t date you otherwise. Yeah, no, he does. The bastard’s just… lazy.

Meanwhile, you? You’re a fucking angel. Sweetheart. You bring Baby food, you rub his shoulders, you kiss him goodnight even when he’s pretending to be asleep so he doesn’t have to talk. You try. You try so hard. You give him the kind of soft love songs get written about.

And he gives you… a pat on the head and a muttered “mm.”

You don’t even know how you ended up dating this man. Like, what was the draw? The face? The voice? Sure, he’s pretty, but Jesus, he’s horrible.

Sex? LMAO. When it happens, it’s good, but the foreplay? The romance? The bare minimum acknowledgment that you exist? Missing in action.

And it’s not like you’re asking for the moon. You’re just asking for him to act like your boyfriend, not your emotionally distant roommate who sometimes humps you and then rolls over. You’re a fucking sweetheart. You bake, you compliment, you rub his temples.

Now tell me, why do the other Saja Boys treat you better than your own boyfriend? They’re tripping over themselves to treat you like royalty.

Romance? Brutal. You walk into the room and he’s already halfway undressed, asking what color panties you’re wearing and if he can purr into your thigh. Every conversation turns into some Rated-R bullshit. You could be talking about taxes and he’d be like, “I’d let you audit this dick.”

Abby calls you “babe” even though you’re dating Baby, carries your stuff, flexes in your direction constantly. One time he held your hand and whispered “I’d never ghost you.” It was honestly a little hot. He says dumb stuff like, “You deserve a hundred Baby’s.” (Which, thanks Abby, but one is already too much.)

Jinu? Bless him. Actual angel behavior. He’s an asshole, but he’s nice to you. He’s the only one who doesn’t make it weird. And he never flirts. Doesn’t need to. He has respect, and that? That’s the real panty-dropper.

Mystery doesn’t talk to you so much as sniff and glare protectively. You saw him literally lunge at Abby once for making a yo mama joke in your presence. No one even understood the joke. It didn’t make sense. But Mystery took that shit personally.

The other boys see it. They know you’re way too good for him. That’s why they are all secretly hoping you’ll finally snap, finally say, “Screw this” and let someone else actually treat you like the heaven-sent babe you are.

And yet, you’re still dating Baby.

Still hoping he’ll wake up one day and realize you’ve been there all along.

They’re demons, yeah. They’re evil, yeah. But even evil people can learn to say “thank you” or “you mean a lot to me.” Baby just walks around like he’s doing you a favor by not breaking up with you.

Why are you still here?

Because love makes you stupid. And apparently, so do baby faces.

Let’s start with the time you planned a whole date for him.

You did everything right. You did your makeup soft and glowing, your hair was perfect, you were genuinely excited.

You get there. He shows up forty-five minutes late.

No text. No “running late.” Just shows up like he didn’t leave you sitting there wondering if you’d been stood up. When he finally arrives, it’s with bedhead and an attitude like you’re the one inconveniencing him. Doesn’t even say you look good. Not even a “hi.” You get a half-assed peck on the lips, and then he slumps into the chair like a corpse and scrolls his phone.

You tried to make conversation. “How was your day?” “I thought you’d like the view.” “Want to try this drink?”

All you got back were shrugs. A couple grunts. A “this is too bright.”

And then he disappeared to the bathroom for 20 minutes. You almost cried.

And the kicker? That night ended in sex. Not even romantic sex. Not the kind of slow, passionate “I missed you” sex you deserved. Just… mechanical. He made you cum, sure. He always does. But not once did he look you in the eye while doing it. He didn’t hold you after. Just wiped himself off, rolled over, and went back to checking his texts like your body wasn’t still trembling beside him.

Then there’s the calls. He never calls just to talk. Never sends memes. Never asks how your day was.

But he’ll call you at 1:43am, And like a fool, you go. You show up. You help him. You heal the gashes on his back from fights. You cook him soup at 2am. You bring him fresh clothes. And he’ll thank you with a yawn and a hand on your thigh.

You’ve started wondering if he might actually be a psychopath.

No, seriously. Not the cute “bad boy with trauma” kind. Like, genuinely broken somewhere inside. The guy doesn’t seem to feel things the way you do. You’ll be crying, clearly upset, trying to talk to him about how distant he’s been, and he’ll just… stare. Not a single emotion on his face. Sometimes you think he might be listening. Sometimes he cuts you off mid-sentence and says something like: “You’re being dramatic.” “You always want more.”

And you just stand there, blinking, with your throat closing up and your heart doing that twisting thing like it’s trying to collapse into itself.

He makes you feel crazy for wanting basic human decency.

Why do you stay with someone who doesn’t see you? Why do you keep hoping that one day he’ll kiss your forehead and mean it? Why do you convince yourself that the fleeting glimpses of tenderness are real and not just glitches in the system?

Because you think maybe, just maybe, you can fix him. (And you won’t admit that maybe you’re trying to prove you’re worthy of being loved by someone who doesn’t love easy.)

Still. You look stunning. Like, jaw-dropping, double-take, world-stopping pretty. You walked out that door looking like heaven, ironic, since you’re dating a demon. New dress, soft gloss, that look in your eye that says “I want to be seen. I want to be loved.”

And what does Baby do?

He gives you a five-second glance, mumbles, “You look… fine.” leans in to press a kiss to your lips, and then spends the entire day not speaking to you unless he’s asking where the fuck his lighter is.

You could’ve worn a trash bag and he wouldn’t have treated you any different.

And don’t even get started on the sex.

When it happens, it’s insane. Mind-numbing. He knows exactly what to do with his hands, with his mouth, with his tongue, and yes, that thing he does when he pins your wrists and growls into your neck? A++++. But after?

He rolls off of you. Pulls his pants up, gives your shoulder a tap like “good game”, and either vanishes into thin air or falls asleep instantly.

You lie there, raw, your soul practically floating out of your body, and he doesn’t even give you a cuddle. No forehead kiss. No aftercare. Not even water. You could die and he wouldn’t notice for six hours.

Okay, what’s happening now is that your thighs are still aching. You’re sitting on your couch now. Legs pulled up, arms hugging your knees, watching him dress up. Same shirt he wore last night, now wrinkled at the collar. You’d kissed his neck there. Left a mark. He hasn’t looked at it.

You’re still tasting him in your mouth. Still warm from the morning fuck that started with your whimper and ended with him pulling out, wiping off with a tissue, and heading for the bathroom. No kiss. No cuddle. No “good morning, babe.”

You push up off the couch and make your way over. Soft steps. Bare feet. One of his old shirts hanging off your shoulders, oversized and swallowing you whole. He left it here weeks ago. You wear it more than you should. Hope he notices every time. He never does.

You swallow. Smile. Be sweet. Be you. “You sleep okay?” you ask, voice gentle.

He shrugs. “Didn’t really sleep.”

You nod. Of course he didn’t. He never does. 300 years of insomnia will do that to a demon. You should know by now. You ask anyway.

Your hand grazes his side. Warm palm against the thin fabric of his shirt. He feels solid under your touch, real in a way you wish he’d act.

“You want coffee before you go?” you try again. Light, chipper. Fake.

You could hand him your heart on a plate and he’d just pick out the parts he needs.

Baby finally looks at you, kind of. Eyes half-lidded, still tired, like he’d rather be anywhere else. There’s nothing in his face. No warmth. No guilt.

“No.” he says. “Got stuff to do.”

You don’t ask what. You never do. You stopped asking a long time ago.

He lets out a breath, not a laugh. Just a bored exhale. Doesn’t even smile back. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t grab your waist and pull you in, the way he used to on rare days when you swore he felt something.

“I’ll text you.” he says.

He won’t.

He reaches for the door. Doesn’t kiss you goodbye. Doesn’t look back.

Leaves it open behind him.

You stand there. In the quiet. One foot still slightly lifted, like your body refuses to believe he actually left without touching you. Without seeing you.

You close the door slowly. Lock it. You step away. Back to the couch. Your body’s still humming from him, skin warm where his hands used to be. And it doesn’t even feel good. Not now.

The one person you gave your heart to? He fucked you, zipped up his pants, and left you in your own bed like a stranger.

Again.

Your phone buzzes. You grab it too fast. Hope flaring like a goddamn idiot.

It’s not him.

Of course it’s not him.

You got up. Showered. Put effort into your hair. Picked the cute outfit. Did your makeup a little soft, a little glowy, just in case he looked at you today. Big, dumb hope, chewing through your insides like it always does.

You even made food for the boys. All of them. Their favorites. You remembered every single detail.

You come in smiling, heart on your sleeve as always. The boys are mid-sweat, halfway through some routine that looks demonic in all the literal and metaphorical ways. Jinu’s barking choreography corrections like a general in tight jeans. Romance is shirtless for absolutely no reason. Mystery’s growling in a corner because someone stepped too close to him. Abby’s stretching, glistening, being a six-foot wall of muscle.

And Baby’s in the back. Ignoring you. Not a glance. Not a smile. Not even a “hey.”

You hold up the bag of food like a little offering to the gods. “I brought lunch!”

They all cheer. Abby fist-pumps. Romance calls you some corny nickname. Jinu nods in appreciation. Mystery smiles at you.

Baby?

Nothing.

He’s already walking off with Jinu toward the speakers. You hear him ask something. His voice is calm, flat. Doesn’t even wobble when he walks right past you.

You shouldn’t be surprised anymore. But you are. You always are. Hope is a stubborn little bitch and you’ve got so much of it.

You set everything down carefully. Label each container. Make sure everyone’s is where it should be. You sit on the little couch tucked in the corner, legs crossed, hands in your lap. All dressed up with no one noticing.

Within ten minutes, they’re all gone. Jinu dragging the others into another room. Baby goes without a word. Not even a “thanks.” Not even a look.

So now it’s just you. Alone again. Like you always are when Baby’s in the room.

You look down at your hands. At your nails you painted this morning, soft pink, little sparkles. You’d hoped he’d see them when your fingers touched his face. When you handed him his drink. When you waved.

But now? You feel small. Embarrassingly small.

You blink hard. No crying. Not here. Not in the same room where you brought him lunch, hoping he’d say something sweet like “You spoil me” or “Thanks, angel.” Something. Anything.

Thump.

A weight drops onto the couch next to you. You blink, startled, then glance over.

It’s Abby. Big, beautiful, sweaty Abby. Drenched in his post-practice glow, shirt clinging to him, biceps looking insane.

“This is fuckin’ delicious, by the way.” he says, mouth full. “You made this?”

Your entire face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, I—I tried this new chili paste thing with the beef? And I wasn’t sure if it’d be too spicy but I remembered you said last time you liked heat so—” You’re already babbling.

Abby chuckles, still chewing. He bumps your knee with his. “Well, it’s fire. You look good today too, by the way. You did something to your face, right? Like… sparkly?”

You freeze.

“Oh my god! You noticed!” You giggle—giggle—and touch your cheek, glowing now. “It’s highlighter! I tried this new gold shimmer thing with a bit of rose undertone. I wanted to look more glowy than usual, like, radiant but not oily, you know?”

Abby is nodding like you just explained astrophysics.

“Totally.” He grins wider. He has no idea what you just said but he enjoys your company. “Damn, Baby’s dumb as fuck.”

You laugh again, brighter this time. You start talking. Like, really talking. Finally. About your outfit. How you wore a matching bra and panty set just in case today went well. About how you tried a new serum for your undereyes last night and you think it’s actually working. About the new earrings. You tell him about how you painted your nails.

Abby listens. Actually listens. Big head tilted slightly, big eyes on you like you’re the only person in the room.

“You smell nice, too.” he says.

“It’s vanilla sugar whipped body butter! I mixed it with this sandalwood perfume for, like, a soft but spicy vibe!” You touch your neck. “I thought he’d notice. You know. If he got close enough…”

“He didn’t deserve that effort.” he says, voice quieter now.

You sit up straighter. Heart fluttering like you’re seventeen. “Oh—thank you, I guess.” you practically beam.

He’s leaning back, one arm slung across the couch behind you, watching you. Like he could listen to you talk all day. Like you’re not background noise. Like you’re not just some sad girl orbiting around a boyfriend who doesn’t give a single shit.

“I used this serum that smells like peaches—so good. Did a little under-eye thing, you know the patches? Also, I tried heatless curls again—”

“They’re working.” Abby says with a nod. “Big fan.”

“Right?! I almost gave up on them but I wrapped them differently this time—wait, do you want me to show you?”

And he said yes. Of course he did. Sat there nodding along as you pulled out your phone and showed him your entire haircare routine like he was your best friend, not a ripped, sweaty demon with chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

He didn’t rush you. Didn’t nod absently. He listened.

Something clicked in you that day.

It wasn’t even anything big. No screaming. No tears. No climax. It was just a bite of rice and a simple, sincere “You look good” from someone who actually meant it.

Abby didn’t say it to get into your pants. (Okay. Maybe a little.) But he said it because he liked it, that simple. He saw the gloss on your lips. He tasted the food you made and said thank you. He laughed at your stupid stories and didn’t check his phone once. You talked to him like a person—and he talked back.

It was so simple. So easy. So fucking bare minimum.

It was Abby, actually.

That moment?

That sparkle he saw in you?

You remembered her. The girl you were before Baby started stomping on her heart.

You sat in your bathroom that night, still wearing his shirt, hair tied up, lips soft and raw from being kissed by someone who didn’t mean it. You looked in the mirror and thought:

“What the fuck am I doing?”

You’d been doing everything for Baby. For months. Cooking for him. Dressing up. Bending over backwards just for a scrap of warmth. And what did he give you in return? The bare minimum of dick and a complete lack of eye contact.

You gave him love. Attention. Loyalty. He gave you silence, and a few orgasms.

Now you’re done.

Well, no. Not done.

You’re gonna do it his way now.

You’re not breaking up with him. That’s not how Baby plays this game, so why should you?

You’re going to treat him the way he’s been treating you.

First, no more good morning texts. No more “thinking of you :)” messages. No more “come over and I’ll make you dinner” sweetness.

You let him text you first. When he doesn’t, you go about your day. When he does text, you leave him on read for a bit. Not petty. Just… matching energy.

You mirror him so perfectly it’s poetic.

Then, he comes over one night, no warnin. You open the door. You look stunning. Not for him. Just… because. Your shorts are short. Your skin smells like warm vanilla.

Baby says, “Hey.”

You say, “Sup.” and walk back to the couch.

He follows you, sits down next to you, waits for you to curl into him like you always do.

You don’t.

You sit with your legs crossed, phone in hand, scrolling through photos from earlier. You laugh at something.

Baby asks, “What’s funny?”

You shrug. “Just something Abby said.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t look at him. You don’t fucking fawn.

When Baby finally touches you, it’s out of habit. He moves to pull you in by the thigh, slow, casual, the way he always does when he wants to use your body to feel alive.

But your body’s no longer his playground.

You place your hand on his wrist gently, without anger, and say: “I’m not really in the mood tonight.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever said that to him.

And it’s not even a lie. Because suddenly? The idea of being touched by someone who doesn’t see you makes your skin itch.

He blinks. Like he’s never heard the word no come out of your mouth before.

You don’t give him an explanation. You just stretch, yawn a little, and say, “Wanna watch something?” like the idea of intimacy was never even part of the evening.

You’re finally doing to him what he’s been doing to you this whole damn time.

Nothing.

You show up less.

You speak less.

You still look beautiful—maybe more than ever—but now you do it for yourself. And the boys? They notice.

Romance starts walking in shirtless more often, whispering things in your ear, trying.

Mystery still growls, but he really is more careful with you than with the other boys.

Jinu? Offers to walk you home one night, just to make sure you’re okay.

Abby is an angel. I mean, besides the fact that he eats souls and kills people.

Right now, all you can hear is the low clink of chopsticks in a bowl and the sound of your soft laugh floating through the kitchen, that lovely, glowing kind of laugh that belongs to someone who’s being treated right by someone for once.

And of course, that someone ain’t Baby.

You’re leaned up against the counter, wearing an apron over your sweats. Your sleeves are rolled up, your lip gloss is on point, and you’re holding a spatula.

Jinu? He’s posted up at the counter. Elbows on the marble. Sleeves of his black shirt rolled just enough to show forearms. He’s already half-finished the food you made him—second serving, by the way—and he watches you talk about how you made the sauce from scratch.

You’re glowing. Again.

And Jinu sees it. Loves it.

“Gotta say,” he drawls, licking his chopsticks before setting them down with a clink. “if you keep feeding me like this, Baby’s gonna lose you real fuckin’ quick.”

You giggle. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious.” he says, shrugging one shoulder like it’s just a fact of life. “Can’t remember the last time I saw you smile like that. Hell, I’m thinking about proposing.”

Oh, Jinu is a fucking asshole.

You swat him with the dishtowel, cheeks warm and heart fluttering.

And that’s when the door opens. You just keep stirring your sauce, biting back a grin. Because you know who that is.

Baby steps in.

He stops.

The scene in front of him? It’s not anything explicit… but it’s worse. You—shining, smiling, eyes crinkled with joy—laughing at Jinu, apron tied around your waist.

Jinu doesn’t even bother hiding the smug face. Just leans back, long and casual in your stool, licking his teeth as he catches Baby’s eyes.

“Didn’t think you were coming.” Jinu says lazily.

Didn’t think.

As in: doesn’t expect him to be here.

As in: you didn’t say shit about him coming.

As in: why the fuck would he be here now, anyway?

“Oh. Hey.” you say. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Which is a fucking lie. You always hear him. You’ve got Baby-radar like a government op. But you say it like he’s just some dude you vaguely know from work.

He walks in. Slowly. Warily. Like the air’s changed and he doesn’t know how to breathe it.

“What’s this?” he mutters, eyes fixed on Jinu.

You blink. “Dinner.”

“Didn’t know we were feeding other people now.”

Jinu smirks. “Funny. I didn’t know you gave a shit.”

BOOM.

“He walked me home.” you say softly. “We got to talking. I offered dinner.”

Simple. Sweet. Reasonable. But even you can’t deny the underlying message: He was here. You weren’t. He showed up. You didn’t.

You finally turn back to the stove, as if his presence isn’t worth more than a glance. “There’s food if you want.”

He doesn’t move.

Jinu watches him. Slowly wipes his mouth with a napkin. Stands up. Doesn’t break eye contact.

“Thanks for the meal.” he says, only to you, voice low and smooth. “Bye, Y/N.” And he walks out.

You’re still by the stove, gently stirring the pot even though the heat’s been off for a minute now. You’re not cooking anymore. You’re just… doing something with your hands.

“So.” He says it flat. Lazy. No inflection.

You hum, noncommittal. “Hm?”

“You fucking Jinu now or what?”

You blink. You turn around slowly, calmly, ladle still in your hand, and give him the kind of look that says excuse me, motherfucker? without a single word.

He just leans back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looks bored. Like this whole conversation is beneath him. Like he isn’t internally spiraling at the idea of Jinu being inside you.

“You’ve got a problem.” you say, finally, voice cool.

He shrugs. “Just seems convenient. He’s walking you home, sitting in your kitchen, eating your food. Laughing like you two are fuckin’ married or something.”

You cross your arms, ladle still dangling in your hand like a weapon you could use. “Are you actually jealous right now?”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” Then he laughs, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s the kind you throw out when your throat’s closing up and your pride’s bleeding out. “I don’t give a fuck who you hang out with.” he says. “You do whatever you want.”

You tilt your head, your voice still sweet. Too sweet. “Oh, good. ’Cause I do.”

He unfolds his arms, takes a slow step toward you, his babyface looking anything but innocent right now. “You two looked real cozy.” he says, low. “Real close.”

You stare up at him. Calm. Patient. “Not as close as you and your phone every time you’re at my place. Not as close as you and your shitty attitude. Or your silence. Or your fucking selective affection.”

He stares at you. Quiet. Like he’s trying to do math in his head, but the numbers don’t add up because the answer is you don’t belong to him anymore.

But the problem is?

You do.

Not because he deserves you.

Not because he’s earned it.

But because he’s Baby, and he never loses.

“We talked. I cooked. He ate. He left. That’s it, Baby.”

Baby scoffs under his breath. “Mm. Cute.”

You used to look at him like he was your whole world. Now you look at him like he’s in the way.

You sigh, setting your plate down. “Look, if you’re trying to pick a fight because you saw me smile at someone else, don’t bother. You never cared when I cried over you.”

“Whatever.” he mutters, turning away. “Do what you want.”

He lingers at the door longer than usual. Waiting. Expecting. But you just go back to your food. Back to your peace. Back to being a version of yourself that doesn’t revolve around his silence.

He leaves. Quiet. Not slamming the door. Just… gone.

It goes on like that.

Weeks.

You don’t call. You don’t text. You don’t ask where he is or when he’s coming over. You don’t even ask him to come to bed when he does show up, which, let’s be honest, is rare now.

You’re sweet to him. That’s the worst part.

You don’t argue. You don’t snap. You don’t even bring up what he said about Jinu, or the dozens of other things he’s said and done to make you feel like you weren’t enough.

He tells himself he doesn’t care. Every day. Every time you walk past him with that polite little smile. Every time you hug Jinu goodbye a little longer than you should. Every time Romance slings his arm around your waist and calls you “baby girl” and you laugh. Every time Abby gives you his jacket. Every time Mystery offers you the last slice of pizza and hisses at anyone who tries to take it from you.

You’re still everyone’s favorite.

Still their angel.

But you’re not his anymore. Not in the way you used to be. Not in the way that meant something.

And the stupidest part?

He still won’t let go.

He could’ve ended it by now. Could’ve sat you down and been a man and said, “This isn’t working,” or “Let’s take a break,” or something like a grown-up.

But he didn’t.

Because he doesn’t want to.

He keeps waiting for the moment you’ll crack. That you’ll break and come crawling back, like always. But you don’t. You don’t beg. You don’t chase. You just let him be. And you let yourself be. Happy, even.

Right now, Romance is walking you home.

No earbuds in. No phone in hand. No half-assed, distracted glances

No—this man is locked in.

He opens doors. Keeps his hand hovering at the small of your back. Makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk. His cologne smells like amber and sex appeal and trouble.

You’re bundled up in your cute jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, trying to ignore the way he keeps looking at you like you’re dessert.

He’s walking you home like a proper man, one hand casually tucked into his jacket pocket, the other resting at your lower back, protective. You feel safe. You feel seen. Which is fucked up because Romance is literally the thirstiest demon you’ve ever met and you’re pretty sure he tried to convince you to join him in a shower multiple times.

But tonight?

He’s actually being… good.

Almost.

“I could do it, you know.” he says suddenly, tilting his head to look at you. His eyes glint like sex and sincerity, a dangerous combo. “Treat you better. Make you laugh.”

“Romance—”

“Nah, nah, hear me out.” he grins, stepping in front of you, walking backwards now.(AN: guys take a moment to imagine this I think it’s so sweet) “I’ve watched that idiot make you cry for months. He gets you warm, pulls you in, then freezes the second you want something real. That shit ain’t love, baby girl.”

You exhale a soft laugh, biting your lip. “You done?”

“Almost.” He stops right at the foot of your apartment steps, standing too close. “You’re gold.” he says, voice lower now, serious. “If he doesn’t want to melt for you, let somebody else do it.”

You meet his eyes, those dark, dangerous eyes that promise so much pleasure it borders on pain. You know he means it.

He wants to steal you. He means it.

He wants that cookie.

Bad.

Now your back’s to the door, lips shiny under the streetlight. You’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and he thinks—fuck it, maybe tonight.

He’s close enough to touch.

And you know he would.

If you leaned in even slightly, Romance would kiss you.

“I’m not a cheater.” you say quietly, smile fading just a bit.

Romance blinks. Looks away, running a hand through his hair. “Then break up with—“ he sighs. “Yeah. I know.”

“I appreciate you walking me home.” you say, keys jangling in your hand. “Really. You’re… good to me.”

Romance raises a brow. “I could be better. You know that, right?”

You nod. “I do.”

Silence.

Romance wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

You were Baby’s. Off limits. That was the deal.

Not that Baby’s ever followed a rule in his immortal, lazy-ass life, but still, there’s a line between stealing your bandmate’s fries and stealing his girl.

Except… you’re not really his anymore, are you?

Not when you’re out here glowing under streetlights, arms wrapped around yourself, laughing at something he said.

You’re not just hot. You’re gold. You’ve got this energy, like you were made to be adored, like kindness made flesh. You ask how his day was and actually care about the answer. You bring snacks for everyone, even when they forget you exist. You patch bruises. Remember birthdays. Listen. Smile at him like you’re glad he’s there.

You’re… the dream girl.

You’re beautiful. Like, stupidly beautiful. And not just in a “hot girl on a magazine” kind of way—no, you’re warm. You’re sweet in a way that makes his chest ache. You tell Mystery his growling is cute. You made Abby a protein-packed lunch after you saw him skip one. You tell Jinu to take breaks when he’s overworking.

You’re… everything.

And Baby has you? Baby, who acts like you’re a houseplant he forgot to water?

He doesn’t get it.

He doesn’t understand how you stay kind after being treated like an afterthought. Doesn’t understand how your lips still curl into that soft little smile even after getting ghosted, dismissed, cold-shouldered, fucked and forgotten.

He chews on his mouth. “For what it’s worth… I hope he pulls his head out of his ass.”

You smile softly. “Me too.”

You press a soft kiss to his cheek. The kind that says “thank you”—not “take me inside.”

And then you’re gone. Door open. Closed. Locked.

Romance stands there. For a long time. Fists in his pockets. Jaw clenched. Whispers under his breath, “Fucking Baby.”

But he gets it.

Hell, if you were his? He wouldn’t let you go, either.

Inside, the door shuts behind you. Soft click.

“Hi.”

You jump, just a little, and turn.

Baby is sitting on your couch. Hoodie up. Legs spread.

“Let yourself in again?” you ask, voice soft but not sweet.

He shrugs. Doesn’t even look at you at first. His eyes are fixed on some random spot on the floor. But he’s chewing his bottom lip, thinking. That’s rare for Baby. Usually he acts, fucks, ghosts.

“You have a good time?” he asks after a long pause.

You stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“Walked you home.” Baby says, like it’s a crime.

“He offered.” you reply simply. “You weren’t around.”

He scoffs. “Right. Must’ve been a real good walk.”

You toss your keys in the bowl, not even looking at him. “It was. Thanks for asking.”

“I—” he starts, but then his voice falters. “You’re acting different.”

You blink. “I wonder why.”

Baby’s quiet now. You can feel his eyes tracking you as you toe your shoes off and head into the kitchen, opening the fridge, grabbing water.

“…You like him?”

You pause with the bottle at your lips. “I like that he talks to me.”

Baby snorts. Leans back on the couch, stretching his arms out like he’s trying to be casual but his whole body’s coiled tight. “He just wants to fuck you.”

“Maybe.” You shrug. Take a sip. “At least he wants something.”

Silence.

A long one.

You finally turn and look at him.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then finally he speaks.

“…Do you wanna break up?”

Your stomach dips. You blink. “Do you?”

“No.”

You stare at him, stunned for a second.

He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to break up.”

“Then what do you want?”

He looks at you. Like your glow is starting to burn his retinas because he knows it’s not because of him anymore.

“I don’t like it.” he says, low. “Him walking you home.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t.”

Silence. You’re surprised he’s not taking your soul yet.

“I’m going to bed.” you say gently.

He doesn’t follow.

Doesn’t ask you to stay.

Doesn’t apologize.

Doesn’t fight.

So you walk away.

He left later.

And okay, so, Baby caught on. He caught on to how the guys look at you when you walk into a room.

How Abby practically breaks his neck turning around when you laugh.

How Mystery’s little demon growls actually stop when you pet his head like a feral cat and call him “baby boy.”

How Jinu fucking lingers after he drops you off, arms crossed, smug smirk on his stupid perfect face like he’s just daring Baby to make a move.

And Romance? God. He makes no effort to hide the way he drools over you.

And for a while, Baby pretended he didn’t notice.

Because Baby’s the type who doesn’t give a fuck. The type who could watch the world burn with a cigarette in his mouth and a bored expression on his face. Show an attitude to Gwi-Ma, though he knows it entertains the big fire overlord whatever the fuck that thing is.

And it hit him. Finally. It hit him that maybe the guys didn’t love you just to get back at him. Maybe they weren’t doing it to annoy him, or stir shit, or play their usual games.

Maybe they loved you because you were just… good. Like they struck gold with you.

And he’s been treating you like you’re disposable.

And now you’re slipping through his fingers.

So here he is.

Standing outside your door at 11:47 PM. Hoodie on. Hands clenched. Eyes bloodshot. Breathing weird. With a bouquet of half-wilted, obviously-last-minute flowers clenched in his fist. Not even wrapped in paper. Just bundled together in his hand like he ripped them out of a gas station bucket and sprinted over.

You open the door in a tank top and shorts, towel still on your head. You weren’t expecting company. You sure as hell weren’t expecting him.

He just shoves the bouquet into your chest. “Here.”

Your brows shoot up. “What…?”

“They’re flowers.”

You stare down at the handful of pretty flowers. “…Thanks?”

He clears his throat. Looks anywhere but at you. “They’re real. I think.”

You blink at him. Genuinely speechless. You sigh. Step back. “You wanna come in?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

Which is Baby code for yes, please, please say yes, please I can’t stop thinking about you, please I fucking miss you and I don’t know how to say it because I’m a 300-year-old asshole in skinny jeans who still can’t process human emotion like a real adult.

He walks in like he’s waiting for you to slam the door behind him and tell him to go fuck himself.

You don’t.

You close the door quietly. Take the flowers to the kitchen, grab an old mug (because of course you don’t have a vase, you’re not that domestic), and fill it with water. You hear him sit down on the couch.

“So…” you say finally. “what’s going on?”

He scratches the back of his neck. Looks at the floor. “Nothing.”

You raise a brow. “Nothing made you bring me flowers?”

He shrugs again, classic Baby-style. “Just thought of you.”

“That’s new.”

“…Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice low. “You always look good. Y’know that?”

You blink. “What?”

“You always look good. Even now. With that stupid towel on your head.”

You squint suspiciously. “Are you having a stroke?”

He lets out a breathy, almost-laugh. “Shut up.”

…wow.

“Come to bed if you want.” you say, walking toward your room. “But I’m not gonna beg.”

You don’t even look back. You just leave him there, in your living room, surrounded by the silence he’s created.

In your room, you’re halfway out of your shorts.

He followed. Of course he did. You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. Because if he wants to stare? Let him. He’s the one that gave this up in the first place.

He stands there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. Watching you. Silently.

Funny, how now that you don’t beg, he’s starving.

He finally moves, steps off the wall and walks toward you. Still that classic Baby attitude, acting like he doesn’t care even though his jaw clenches tighter every time you arch your back to pull something on.

And then his hand grazes your waist. Barely there. Fingertips brushing skin.

You slap it away. Instantly. Not hard, just enough to say “try again and I’ll bite.”

He raises both hands in surrender, head tilting like, “oh? That’s how it is now?”

And fuck, it’s attractive. The way he lets his tongue press into his cheek, cocky, bratty.

You pull your shirt over your head, slow, knowing full well he’s watching, knowing he’ll pretend not to care. But his eyes betray him.

“Are you gonna say anything?” you say, looking at your dresser.

His arms are crossed, leaning against your wall again. “About what.” he mutters.

You let out a breathy laugh, pulling your sleep shirt on. “Wow. That’s where we’re at?”

“I’m not doing this.”

He’s already annoyed. Voice flat. Defensive. His posture stiffens, like you’re coming at him with a knife and not your heart.

“You’re not doing what, Baby?” you say, turning around to face him. “Having a fucking conversation with the person you’re dating?”

“You wanna fight or something?”

“No.” you snap. “I want something.”

He rolls his eyes. Actually rolls them.

You walk toward him, one slow step at a time, words getting tighter. “I spend my days giving everything I can. I come home, and you’re already here, like I’m just this convenient warm body for you to fuck and ignore. I made room for you, and all you do is act like I’m a fucking option.”

His jaw twitches. “You done?”

“Baby—”

“I said I’m not doing this.”

“No, you’re just gonna do what you always do.” you shoot back. “Shut down, act like I’m annoying for wanting something more than your dick and your bare minimum.”

He snorts. “Yeah, real romantic tone you got there, sweetheart.”

“I was romantic.” you snap, stepping closer. “Remember? I used to wait up for you. Text you goodnight when you wouldn’t answer my calls. I used to bring you shit. Buy you shit. Walk on eggshells so you wouldn’t bolt the second things got even a little uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t look at you.

So you flash him. Pull your shirt up, tits out, confident, shameless.

His eyes snap up to your tits instantly. Wide. Caught.

“I’m listening.”

“Good.” you say, letting the shirt drop. “Because if you don’t do something, if you don’t try, don’t show me that you actually give a shit, we’re done.”

He stares at you. Long. Silent. But now it’s not cold anymore.

Now, it’s panic.

Because you’ve never said that before.

You’ve cried. Pleaded. Begged him to change, to care, to show you even a fraction of the love you’ve always given him.

But now? Now you’re done begging.

Now it’s a warning.

And he knows that you mean it.

“Ball’s in your court, Baby.”

Silence. His eyes are on your face, running over it.

“God. You’re dramatic as shit sometimes.” he mutters. “But you’re right.”

That gets you to stop.

He’s standing there in the middle of your room like he doesn’t even know why he opened his mouth. Hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. Kicking at the edge of your rug like it’s personally offended him.

“You said some stuff,” he continues, voice all low and annoyed. “and I guess some of it was kinda valid or whatever.”

You blink. “Kinda valid?”

He shrugs, not meeting your eye. “Yeah. I dunno. You said a lot.”

You cross your arms, giving him the stare you once reserved for crying in your pillow after he ghosted you for three days straight. “You are so bad at this.”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“I’m good at killing things. And being immortal. And… I don’t know. Music, I guess.”

He finally lifts his eyes to yours.

You inhale.

And just like that… the air feels different.

Because for the first time since you met him—since you gave him your time, your bed, your fucking heart—he’s not dodging it. He’s not pulling away. He’s just… honest. Moody and bratty and ungrateful, but trying.

This is him, trying.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’ve been a dick.” he adds, quieter. “I know that. But if someone’s gonna fuck this up… I’d rather it be me than someone else.”

God. God.

You stare at him, heart stuttering.

He looks almost bored, almost put-out, but his hands are clenched inside his hoodie pocket. And his voice is just a little too tight.

And for some reason, that’s what does it.

“…You could’ve just said that months ago,” you murmur.

He exhales. A short breath through his nose. “Yeah. Well. Fuckin’ hindsight.”

You look up at him again.

He shrugs. “I treat everyone like shit. You’re not special.”

Your jaw drops. “What the fuck—”

“I mean—fuck—” he drags a hand over his face, groaning like you’re the one being difficult. “You are special. I don’t know what the fuck to do with that, okay? Jeez.”

You blink at him. “Try not being a dick?”

“I am a dick.” he says, voice flat, deadpan.

You squint at him. “…Okay?”

Silence.

He shrugs again. “So yeah. Maybe I’ll do better. Or whatever.”

Or whatever.

“I’m not promising I’ll be good at this.” he mutters.

You smile, soft. Tired. “You won’t be.”

He nods. Accepting that like it’s fair.

“…But I’m not done.” he says. Quiet. “With you.”

You pause. Then nod once. “Okay.”

Settled.

Not perfect. Not even close.

But something.

“You’ve got one shot, Baby.” you say, voice low. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He exhales. Rolls his eyes. Mumbles, “Whatever.”

The next day, at the boys’ place, music’s playing. Abby’s doing push-ups with a resistance band around his biceps for no reason. Mystery’s on the floor eating cold noodles straight out the container with his claws. Jinu’s yelling about posture again. You’re not here. You’re off existing like the angel you are, probably making someone’s day just by breathing.

Baby’s sitting on a folding chair like he owns the air. Lazy. Legs wide. Arms draped over the back. Looking like he’s five seconds from asking someone to peel him a grape.

And then with the kind of exaggerated sigh only a 300-year-old emotionally stunted demon brat can produce, he stands up, walks over to Jinu and lifts his hand.

Palm out. Up. Like a fucking royal.

Jinu, mid-step, doesn’t even look. Just groans and digs into his pocket.

A crumpled wad of cash gets slapped into Baby’s hand.

Baby doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t even blink. He just starts counting. Out loud. Slow. Disrespectfully.

Finally, Jinu pauses his barking just long enough to glare at him. “What the hell do you even need money for, Baby?”

Baby shrugs. Not looking up. “Buying flowers.”

Silence.

“What?” Jinu repeats, like he heard wrong.

Baby lifts his head now. Slowly. Like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“For my girlfriend.” he says, deadpan. “Obviously.”

…

The silence that follows is generational. Ancestral. Thick enough to choke on.

Romance drops his hair tie.

Abby’s eye twitches.

Mystery bares a tooth, chewing slower, like he’s trying to process the absurdity.

Jinu actually freezes, hands out, mouth open.

Baby just tucks the cash into his hoodie. Walks toward the exit like nothing happened.

They don’t speak. But they all look at each other like: “Did he hit his head?” “Did she finally punch the feelings into him during sex?”

And maybe that’s how the world ends.

Not with a bang. Not with a demon apocalypse.

But with Baby suddenly acting like a boyfriend.

Buying daisies with Jinu’s cash.

Love is dead.

So is logic.

So is Jinu’s trust fund.

But hey…

He’s buying flowers.

And honestly?

That’s probably the most growth anyone’s seen from him since the 1800s.

[buckysprettybaby]

Hiii, I hope youre doing well!!! 💖

I saw a post about sending asks about Calrk Kent, and i was wondering if you could do a Lil something thats Davids! Clark Kent with a chubby reader (maybe stuff like him pickinh reader up and them getting surprised or shy)

hi lovely! thank you for your request. i kind of took it in a different direction with some hurt/comfort but i really hope you like it. i just had some inspo for it so i hope you don’t mind 🫶🏼

exactly as you are

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ pairing: clark kent x chubby!reader

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: chubby!fem!reader, hurt/comfort, body image issues, mention of weight gain, established relationship, reader knows clark is superman, angst, fluff, clark being the softest man ever, soft!clark, use of pet names (sweetheart, honey).

summary: you haven’t been feeling like yourself lately and are overthinking the way you look. clark shows you that he loves you no matter what.

requests are open

a/n: i’m so in love with him. send in requests for him guys :) gif not mine.

Clark’s no idiot. I mean, he’s Superman, for God’s sake. He’s noticed how withdrawn you’ve become, noticed the way you don’t initiate much touch anymore. He can’t help but wonder why. He knows it’s not him — because you’re always ready to do anything for him. Still laugh at his bad jokes. Still kiss his cheek in the morning. Still trace little circles on the back of his hand when you think he’s not paying attention.

But he is. He always is.

And lately, you’ve been quieter. You’ve been tugging your shirt down more often, fidgeting with your sleeves, giving him this look when you think he’s not watching — like you’re trying to figure out what he sees in you.

Clark’s heart breaks a little every time. Because how do you not know?

How do you not know that when you walk into a room, he forgets what galaxy he’s from?

That your softness is not just something he loves, it’s something he craves.

He knows you’ve gained a bit of weight recently, but he absolutely loves it. He’ll love you no matter what. Clark always loves putting his hands on you, and having that extra softness doesn’t hurt — if anything, he adores it. It just means there’s more of you to hold, more of that soft, supple skin under his calloused hands.

It’s another night of you shying away from him, and Clark’s had enough. You’re sitting on the couch, not far, but just far enough for him to notice. Far enough for him to raise a brow.

You curl into yourself, eyes fixed on the TV like it might save you from his attention.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls softly. “You’re sitting too far away,” he adds with a playful little whine. He wraps a hand around your back and gently pulls you toward him until you’re nestled against his side. Normally, a display of strength like that would have heat curling low in your stomach — but tonight, you’re too preoccupied.

You’re wearing one of Clark’s shirts — it hangs off you, loose and oversized — paired with a pair of baggy sweatpants. And that’s what worries him most. You rarely cover up like this around him.

You hum noncommittally, pretending to be far too engrossed in whatever’s playing on the TV.

Clark’s unsure how to approach this. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, not when he knows you’ll shut down if he pushes too hard.

His hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering for a moment before he gently turns your head toward him. “What’s going on with you, honey?” he murmurs softly.

“Nothing,” you say, brushing it off — trying to dodge the conversation you know is coming. Even like this, you can’t help but lean into Clark’s touch. Ever the perceptive one, Clark notices and gently pulls you closer until you’re sitting in his lap.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?” he tries again, voice low and full of concern.

The tears well up before you can stop them, and the gentleness in his voice is all it takes for them to finally spill over.

He feels every shudder that runs through your body. Every broken sob that escapes your throat sends another crack through his heart.

Clark holds you impossibly tighter, resting his head against yours, as if he can shield you from whatever’s hurting you just by being close.

His hands cradle your face, thumbs gently wiping away the tears. “You’re okay, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Your sobs fade into soft sniffles, a hiccup catching in your throat as you cling to Clark just a little tighter. He waits silently, fingers threading gently through your hair, trying to soothe you without words.

After a while, you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve been… feeling kinda self-conscious lately,” you admit, twisting the hem of his shirt. “About, well… the weight I’ve gained. I know you say it doesn’t matter, but sometimes it feels like it does — to me, at least.”

His gaze melts with tenderness, and a quiet ache settles in his chest. “You’ve been feeling like this for a while, haven’t you?”

You nod quietly, pressing your face into his neck, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

He trails soft kisses along the top of your head, holding the silence between you before gently breaking it with his voice.

He sits with you for a while longer, arms wrapped around you like he’s holding your entire world together. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low and sure.

“Come with me for a second,” he says gently.

Before you can ask where, he’s already shifting — one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He carries you down the hall with that quiet strength only he has, pressing a kiss to your temple as he goes.

In the bedroom, he stops in front of the full-length mirror, still holding you in his arms. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, not demanding, just soft and steady.

“Look,” he murmurs.

You glance away, embarrassed. But he nudges your chin, still so gentle. “No hiding,” he says. “Not from me.”

He sets you down slowly, standing behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands settle over your stomach — not to shame, but to hold.

“You see this?” he says, his voice warm against your ear. “This is you. And you’re beautiful. Every inch of you. This softness, these curves — I love them. I love you.”

One of his hands lifts to brush your hair aside so he can press another kiss to your neck. “I know you don’t see it right now,” he continues, “but I do. And I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”

You shift slightly in his hold, eyes flicking down to where his hands rest on your stomach. Your voice is barely audible.

“I just… I feel too heavy,” you mumble, the words catching in your throat. “Like I’m taking up too much space. Like I don’t look how I used to.”

Clark’s brows knit together, not in frustration — but in hurt. Hurt that you feel this way.

“You’re not too anything,” he says softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. “You’re you. And I love every version of you.”

You shake your head, tears prickling again. “But what if I never go back to how I was?”

Clark gently turns you to face him, hands cradling your face again like you’re something delicate and precious.

“Then I’ll keep loving you exactly as you are,” he says without missing a beat. “This isn’t about who you used to be. This is about you, right now, in my arms — and I wouldn’t trade a single thing about you.”

“And as for ‘too heavy’…” he says, tilting his head with a soft grin, “I think you’ve forgotten that I’m literally a superhero — I can lift you like you weigh absolutely nothing.”

To prove his point, he effortlessly shifts his grip, lifting you with one arm like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “See?” he says, still smiling. “Light as air. And completely mine.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, ducking your head into his shoulder, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Show-off,” you mumble, though there’s no bite to it.

Clark chuckles, the sound low and affectionate. “Only for you.”

He sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist, thumbs brushing over your sides like he’s grounding you — like he wants you to feel every part of yourself through his love.

You’re still a little unsure, still a little hesitant, but it’s quieter now, softer. Like maybe… maybe you could start to believe him.

You glance up at him, lips pulling into the tiniest smile. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Clark leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips — gentle at first, nothing more than a brush of warmth and reassurance. But then his fingers tilt your chin, adjusting the angle just slightly, and the kiss deepens — slow, sure, and full of quiet promise.

When he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, heart fluttering in your chest.

“Always,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

please like, comment and reblog to let me know what you think ♡

© buckysprettybaby; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[niuttuc]

So, I'll start with the bad news: Adaptive Automaton itself was made for a core set (ie a base, generic one with little lore) in 2011, so it was made to be as generic as possible and it could be on almost any world and work with almost any creature type. Typically, new cards in core sets back then tended to be set on Shandalar, a pretty generic fantasy world that has a few things going for it, but this one's art doesn't even have anything in the uniforms or look that'd confirm that.

The story of it is summed up in mechanics and a single line of flavor text, which is pretty impressive! A construct that imitates and inspires people of flesh and blood, with undying and unliving loyalty.

But! We can still use the card as a jumping off point into various things that are similar and may be of interest if this one caught the eye.

The first and fairly quick connection is more mechanical: Adaptive Automaton is a link in a lineage of generic typal support creatures.

The oldest of these is Brass Herald, which doesn't show up directly in the story either, but from its release set and effect, one can easily extrapolate some things. Brass Herald was released in Apocalypse, set during a time where the world of Dominaria was being invaded by the Phyrexians, alien zombie robots, and their god, Yawgmoth. The people of Dominaria banded together in a Coalition to fight against them, and at the center of the coalition was Tolaria, an island known among other things for its artificers. It is not hard to imaging those Heralds being sent out to warn and gather the different people across the world of Dominaria, to unite and galvanize them against the threat!

But coming back to Adaptive Automaton, the flavor text stands out.

Such loyalty can only be made.

The thought of a robot, a construct being built for loyalty and trusted over humans is something that crops up every so often in magic. In Avishkar:

This specific golem on Tarkir has had quite the story across a few cards:

Over 1,000 years in-universe (and over 10 out of universe) separate these three cards.

But I think the best example that resonates with Adaptive Automaton, that you might enjoy learning about, is a character that has been at time central to the story for close to 30 years now... Karn!

Karn was initially created as a probe by the planeswalker and artificer Urza, to send back in time through his experimental time machine to collect data. Karn was only given consciousness because the probe would work better for the purpose that way. Urza never really saw Karn as more than just a tool, useful at various points. To be fair to Urza, that's how he saw people he didn't make too, he was an artificer and for the most part only saw people as what they could contribute to his plans.

Thankfully, Karn met some people that were kinder than that in the academy he lived in. First among them was Jhoira. Later on, when Karn was getting burdened with grief and pain, Urza unilaterally decided to cap Karn's memories to 20 years to avoid that issue. As a result, for years and years to come, Karn would say aloud every day a mantra of the important stuff he never wanted to forget. It went like this:

"Jhoira is my friend — my best friend. We met in the original academy, before the accident drove us from Tolaria. She named me. Karn, from an old Thran name. She said it meant strength."

Eventually, incidentally along with Urza's death and coincidentally at the end of Apocalypse, Karn would ascend into a planeswalker. At the time, planeswalkers were beings of great power, capable of reshaping worlds should they want to enough.

Many of the planeswalkers of the time, had they been born human, or elf, or panther, or dragon, became in time quite monstrous, seeing regular people as at best pawns, at worst fodder.

Karn didn't. The golem made to be a tool was consistently one of the most "humans" of the planeswalkers, caring for people as people. He wasn't infallible, and his mistakes cost the life of many. Among oldwalkers, he is probably the one that suffered the most from regret and remorse at these mistakes.

Eventually, he would create an entire world of metal, and populate it with golems like him. He would name it Argentum. While his attention was on other people and things, that world would slip from his control, eventually being renamed to Mirrodin, and then to New Phyrexia.

As the Multiverse changed around him and as other planeswalkers did, he lost a lot of power and is no longer capable of creating, reshaping and destroying worlds at his will. His status as a planeswalker itself has changed a few times since, as Story happened to him. At the end of it, with the help of friends and allies, he remains and remains uncorrupted. In his last appearance, he participated in the end of New Phyrexia and the threat it posed, seeing it as his personal responsibility.

We'll see what the story has in store for Karn in the years to come. The Silver Golem, the Great Creator, the Living Legacy. The immortal creation who grieves and care, who protects and worries, who regrets and repairs.

Through hardship and friendship, he's learned what it means to be seen as an object to be used, and a person to be loved. He is still an example inspiring many people who were born or hatched, he champions and protects still.

I'm sorry Adaptive Automaton didn't have more to delve into directly, but I hope you enjoyed these tangents it inspired within Magic's lore.

This is a post I'm interested to be seen by people who either do not play Magic: the Gathering or engage with it rather casually. If that's not you, feel free to reblog to reach a wider audience, but the exercise in here will not be as useful.

A few months back, the game released a new Base Set of cards called Foundations. It is meant to be a new batch of hundreds of cards that will always be available, that are simpler on average (though not necessarily less powerful) to be a point of entry for new players. Something else it does wonderfully is be a palette of the many worlds, aesthetics and vibes within the game. This is where you come in:

This is the important bit below

Take a look at the cards in the set! You don't even have to read them, there are many, many of them. If one of them or more catches your attention, reblog this post with an image of it, and if you want to learn anything more about it! Be it the world it depicts, its history within the game, or even the mechanics if they are what intrigues you.

This is the important bit above

Some of the cards are either generic or from worlds we haven't visited yet, but the vast majority fit within a larger whole, and there might be more like them to point at! I will try to elaborate on what you want to learn, and maybe even point you towards similar cards or entire card sets on the world or subject you took note of.

In case you're totally unfamiliar with the game, I'll put a short summary under the cut:

Magic: the Gathering is a fantasy trading card game that's over thirty years old. People are invited to create their own deck of cards out of a pool of nearly 30,000 different cards at this point. The gameplay has been summed up many times as being something that sits in between Chess and Poker as far as overall appeal, though the actual action-by-action game is unlike both of them. Just like with playing cards, though not as extreme, there are different ways to play with the cards too, varying which are legal, or the exact rules they're played under.

It is a deep game that can be enjoyed at many levels of engagement, and will take exactly as much time and money out of you as you're willing to give it. From $0 free to play gaming on arena or occasional board game night engagement, to spending hundreds regularly to keep up with a tournament metagame, to spending thousands if not tens of thousands on super rare collectible cards.

In the past few years, Magic has started collaborating with other franchises to make cards for their properties. Lord of the Rings, Fallout, Doctor Who, and plenty more, though it keeps making cards for its own worlds and lore.

That lore can be summed up as a magical multiverse full of very different worlds, each with their own aesthetics, magics, factions and struggles. They are interconnected by rare mages that are able to travel between them, and a major event recently started connecting them further, allowing the layperson to be able to travel between them using less practical ways to do so. Within those worlds, stories happen, sometimes through the cards themselves, sometimes through written fiction, be them novels, online stories or even comic books. Magic cards are divided into five different colors of magic, each with its own associated philosophy, elemental associations, mechanics, aesthetics. Those five colors can then combine and interact to form complex characters, factions, spells and more.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

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Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female Reader

Explicit, obviously. MDNI!

WC: 10k, sorry it's a long one!

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT. mentions of cheating, divorce, arguing, sexual shaming, sexual healing?

A/N: Please take a look over on A03 and Wattpad under the same username for more!

Tags: @djs8891 @dizzybee03 @mrsevans90 @barnesboo1967 @khouse712 @kmc1989 @fantasyfootballchampion @crossskylinesandcontrails @kaleysbookshelf @rootedinrevisions @teacupsandtopgun @mlqueen89 @cowgirlstateofmind89 @simplypaisleyjane @fanficmom94

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for my fics, please DM me!

Your heart filled with excitement as you stepped off the plane at LAX, greeted by your childhood friend. He had glue-ons just like you, pointed like daggers, rainbow tips and all. It was Pride Month after all. 

He shouted your name across the airport, making you dip your head in embarrassment, as he ran up, black Converse squeaking on the smooth, freshly buffed floors. 

“Hey girl! I'm so stoked you could make it! We’re partying tonight!” Your best friend, Patrick, exclaimed as he pulled you into a tight hug. You let yourself melt into his warmth for a moment, enjoying the comfort of his friendship, which had been there through all of what had happened over the past few months. 

You had just signed your divorce papers after two months of fighting non-stop. It wasn't fighting over assets or anything like that. He had cheated with someone he worked with. You accused him and he did what he always did. He denied it and became defensive. So you went into his workplace one morning, asking if he was there. They told you he was out on a call. So as you went to leave, you happened to look into the yard. He was at his truck, loading materials into the back with his co-worker, a pretty blond who was younger and more outgoing than you. You knew her from the Christmas party last year. 

You watched for a few moments, knowing he was oblivious to your hard stare. You watched as his hands wrapped around her waist. You watched as she giggled and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. You averted your gaze as they kissed. 

You went home and grabbed only essentials and begged a friend to stay at their house for a few days while you sorted out your brain. They obliged after you told them what happened, but they couldn't seem to believe it either. 

When you didn't come home that night, he called, panicked. 

“I had an overnight at work. I told you the other day.” You said and he scoffed. 

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” He murmured and hung up the phone. 

And the next day you got a call from the girl in the office at your husband's workplace. 

“I saw him this morning getting coffee with Alina. They were holding hands and she kissed him.”

You thanked her for telling you. You took a personal day and moved the rest of your stuff out, but made sure you were there to confront him. You regretted that immediately.

“I've been seeing her for about two months. She needed a friend when she started there and you claim to be busy at work all the time lately. We never have sex anymore. I heard you with the fucking vibrator in the shower. I'm so bad that you'd rather a dildo? Are you fucking kidding me?” His words were full of malice. 

“You haven't made me come in months. I've been working my ass off to try to give you extra money to put for a down payment. I'm exhausted. I can barely afford to pay my own bills.” 

“Well that's your problem. You don't have a real job so why would you expect to make real money.” He said and you shook your head.

“I'm sick of your shit. You cheating was just the icing on the bullshit cake you've been feeding me. I'll send you the divorce papers.” You said, turning and walking out of the apartment with the last of your bags. 

It would be nice for you to enjoy a week away from home and not have to think about anything except how you couldn't really afford to take a week off. You'd have to find a new place to live when you got home, feeling horrible that you'd be shacked up at a friend's for nearly two months. 

You'd saved up a bit and it would be enough for a couple of months rent, but you'd still need to work your ass off to live on your own. You'd thought about finding someone to rent with but who? All of your friends at home were in relationships. 

As you and Patrick headed to the parking lot and put your bags into the back of his shitty old Rav 4, you did take a deep breath. You were fascinated as you watched the city pass by out the window and then it turned over into desert before arriving at the on base housing at Fightertown. 

Patrick had a cute little cottage, just a few rooms split between two floors. You put your bags down in the spare room on the first floor. He didn't have another bed, but you assured him the couch would be just fine for the week. 

“Just like high school, right?” He asked, remembering simpler times when you crashed on each other's couches after long nights of studying and talking about which boys were the cutest and which were just plain jerks. Patrick settled on the couch next to you for a minute, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I'm so happy you could come out. I think it'll be good for you to get away. And my parents couldn't make it so you're my chaperone at the bars when we go, okay?” 

“Yeah, I don't drink remember?” You said and he nodded.

“I know, I'll try to contain myself, but I know there's some hot pilots in town this week too.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. You smacked him gently.

“I'm not dating yet.” You murmured and he bumps your shoulder with his.

“Yeah. But you can still look. Maybe talk. Maybe kiss? Maybe fuck?” He chided and you couldn't help but smack him again. 

“Stop it!” You yell, pushing him. He falls to the cushions with laughter and you can't help but think of how much you missed him all these years and how easy your friendship had been back then. When everything was simpler.

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

You get dressed that night, ready to head out to his favorite bar and one that apparently the entire Navy touted about. You put on a cute number, a long floral patterned dress, a dark teal undertone and a little bit of skin showing at your sides and your upper back, down to a vee that fastened just above your tailbone. You wore flats, not heels. You didn't want to stand in heels all night, as apparently this place got busy quickly and you probably wouldn't be guaranteed a table. 

Patrick dressed in his Navy standard khakis with his new rank badge on. Captain Patrick McLaighan. It sounded pretty nice to him, and when his friends all shouted his callsign ‘Irish’ as he entered, it brought a wide smile to your face. 

You were unbelievably happy for him. He worked his way through the ranks and finally got the promotion that he had always been hoping for, despite being bullied for his choice in a partner.

Now if only you could get to a place where you were that happy again.

You stood at the bar, waiting for your Coca-Cola and Patrick's Moscow Mule. You turn, glancing around, surveying, when a pretty, tall, and broad shouldered blond man walks up, placing his hands on the bar for a moment before turning to face you. He motions for three beers to the bartender, then smirks at you. 

“Hey. I'm Jake.” He nods, reaching out to shake your hand. You oblige and introduce yourself. He smiled when you said your name. 

“Pretty name for a pretty lady.” He leaned on an elbow on the bar as the bartender placed his beers in front of him. 

“Thanks...I guess.” You said, taking a deep breath. You glanced back over at Patrick, who was dancing next to his boyfriend.

“Are you new in town? Never seen you before.” Jake asked, not even touching his beers. You pursed your lips.

“Just visiting a friend.” You said, studying the man as he did the same to you. He also wore Navy standard khakis and you recognized that he was a Lieutenant Commander. His badge said ‘Seresin’ and you rolled the name around your brain for a few moments before his voice met your ears again.

“Ah, boyfriend. Right? Or maybe husband?” He asked, seemingly defeated as he grabbed all three beers. 

“No actually. Just a good, old friend. He got promoted. He's over with his boyfriend and friends. I was just grabbing him another drink.” You explained as the bartender placed your coke and Patrick's drink down for you to take. Jake's smirk returned then.

“But you're not single.” He half asked, half stated and you nodded.

“Just divorced actually. I know, red flag .” You said, smiling and rolling your eyes. Jake chuckled.

“Not the worst red flag. Maybe I'll see you around.” Jake said, tipping his head and wading back through the crowd to his friends. You made your way back to Patrick. He put his arm around your shoulders as he slipped his drink and his friends all began to sing something about a drunken sailor. You just simply went along with it, taking in the merriment of the evening. 

At some point the party atmosphere died down and many of the other sailors dispersed. You had finally been able to sit down. You glanced at your phone. You had four texts and eighteen Facebook notifications.

Ex-Husband: i cant believe you put it on facebook 

Ex-Husband: thats so embarrassing why would you do that to me

Ex-Husband: everyone is asking me what I did wrong

Ex-Husband: its unreal how you always get everyone on your side 

You weren’t even going to dignify that with an answer. He knew exactly what he did wrong. He was just trying to get you to text him back.

Facebook: 18 likes on your relationship status, 3 comments

Jenny commented: good for you hun 😘 

Kallie commented: what the fuck happened???

Nancy (your mom) commented: sad its over but happy you can make new memories love you

You groaned and placed your phone face down then rubbed your hands over your face. You felt weight next to you on the bench seat, and a loud creak of the leather and wood along with it. You expected Patrick to sling his arm around your shoulders again but when he didn’t you glanced out from behind your hands.

“You okay?” It was Jake. Jake that you met earlier. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin. You waved a hand dismissively.

“Fine. None of your business.” You said sharply. His brows knitted and he moved off the seat, holding his hands up defensively. 

“Sorry. Won't bother you again.” He murmured, a faint and playful smirk still on his lips, hoping that you didn't mean it. You didn't.

“No wait! I'm sorry. I'm just...” You sighed heavily. 

“Stressed? You seem stressed. I know we don't know each other but if you'd like to talk to an unbiased party...I'm your man.” Jake interrupted softly, offering his support, something that not many people had been willing to give. 

“Yeah?” You perked up a bit, his smile winning you over in the end.

“Lay it on me.” He sat, sitting back down next to you.

You swallowed hard, giving him only so much detail, just the bare bones that he needed to understand what had happened. When you finished, he blew air from his lips and folded his arms across his chest.

“You know what I think? Your ex sounds like a dick. I don't know you but from what you said it seems like you were doing the best you could and he couldn't or wouldn't see it no matter what. You deserve a lot better, sweetheart.” Jake said, placing his hand over yours gingerly, testing the waters. You allowed it, allowed the comfort he was providing, and you both stared at each other for a few moments, soaking in the seemingly quiet moment you shared. You noticed the green in his eyes, a sagey but bright color flecked with gold that seemed to sparkle even more as he stared at you. He was looking at you, really looking at you, not through you, like your ex would. 

You pulled your hand away and smiled weakly. “I appreciate you taking my side. It would’ve been nice to have that a couple of months ago.” You said softly, folding your arms across your chest. You leaned back and Jake placed his arm across the back of the bench, fingers only inches from your shoulders, never touching, just waiting.

“I see you’ve met Hangman.” You heard Patrick’s voice over the lessening din of the bar as it cut through the moment you and Jake were settled in. 

“That your callsign?” You asked, smirking at him. Jake nodded.

“Yeah and maybe I’ll tell you how I got it over dinner.” Jake mused, leaving a card on the table as he retreated. Patrick sat down next to you, a wide smirk on his face. 

“That is a prime specimen and if you don’t at least fuck him while you’re here, you’re nuts.” Patrick said with a lilt of humor in his voice. You nudged him, watching as Jake made his way out of the bar, letting a last glance fall upon you. He smiled and saluted you. You tipped your head, acknowledging him. You did hope you'd see him again.

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

This time you wore a pretty lavender colored dress, flowy in the skirt and a plain cotton material with a vee neck and short sleeves. Patrick's official ceremony was today, where he would get a service medal for his last deployment and his new rank announced in front of a group of his peers. 

You sat in the back of the crowd, simply there to support. When the ceremony was over, and he was conversing with his friends, fellow sailors and pilots, and his superiors, you decided to sneak off and try to find a bathroom. You had to pee. Bad. Making your way through double doors, you came to a foyer, a large entry way with pictures, of several higher ranking officers and candid moments from deployments.

As you peruse the photos, you forget about the bathroom. You smiled as you took in the memories displayed, but heard booted footsteps behind you. 

“Long time no see.” It was Jake. You did a double take. He was in his Navy standard khakis, hands folded behind his back as he strode up, a smirk painting his lips. He looked clean cut and well put together, even though he had looked that way the other night too. Without the haze of alcohol, without the noise and excitement of the bar, he looked handsome. He was handsome.

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You said sheepishly, glancing around. Jake chuckled and pointed down a hall to where there was a restroom sign. You sighed.

“You look beautiful.” He said softly, stepping closer. Your cheeks heated and you fidgeted with your fingers.

“How long are you here for?” You asked, brows furrowing. 

“Few months. On a break before my next deployment.” He murmured, leaning against the wall casually. He smirked. “You?”

“Just the week.” You said. He shook his head.

“Do you even want to go back? It didn't sound like you wanted to last night.” He asked. You shrugged.

“I have to.” You said, almost dejected.

“You don't have to.” He grinned.

“I can't afford to stay out here.” You said, folding your arms across your chest. Jake blew air from his lips and bounced off the wall.

“That's unfortunate because I'd love to get to know you better.” He said, stepping in closer to you. You took a shaky breath.

“You would?” You asked, backing into the wall behind you. You felt heat pool lower and your lips parted. 

“I would.” He placed a hand by your head on the wall and leaned in even closer. Your hands met his chest, stopping him from getting any closer. 

“I've never done this before.” You said, your voice cracking with emotion, thinking of your ex. Goddamn him.

“Been interested in a guy after a break up?” Jake asked, voice softer than you expected.

“No...been divorced...thinking about moving on so quickly. I don't know how to do this.” You murmured. Jake reached up, brushing his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tear that you hadn't even realized had escaped. 

“How about you just let yourself feel something other than guilt? What he did wasn't your fault.” Jake's voice was low but almost...reassuring.

“Then why does it feel like it is?” You asked, as if you're begging him to have the answer.

“Because you weren't given closure and you didn't deserve not having that either.” Jake wiped another tear away, then cupped your cheek.

“What do you think I deserve?” You asked, your voice beginning to shatter like glass, just like your emotions. Your fingers claw at his shirt, as if they were grasping for that closure in him.

“A second chance.” He said, his lips now only inches from yours. Your breath quickened and he watched as your eyes darted from his to his lips and back.

“You're just trying to get into my panties.” You offered but he shot it down immediately.

“I'm not. Give me a chance to show you.” He pleads softly. 

“What by taking me to dinner?” You asked, nearly scoffing. Dinner was the oldest trick in the book and you were tired of it.

“No, something different.” He said, staying in your space. You let him.

“Like?”

“Give me your number and I'll text you tomorrow with plans.” He said and you hesitate, one, two, three beats before holding out your hand. He gives you his phone and you put it under ‘east coast girl’ with an anchor emoji. He smirks when he sees it. He drums his fingers on the wall and then pushes away from you. He winks and backs away, nearly hitting the opposite wall as he leaves, making you giggle at how silly he looked. 

Your heart sounded in your chest, excitedly by the thought of trying something new with someone new. 

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

Jake shoots you a text in the morning just like he said he would. That makes your heart flutter again.

Hot Pilot Jake: pick you up at seven, wear comfy clothes, nothing fancy 

His name in your phone was courtesy of Patrick and you hoped Jake never saw it. You'd change it before tonight just in case. You edited the name to just ‘Jake’. You puzzled over what he meant then.

Nothing fancy. The only not fancy thing you'd brought was a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt with your favorite band's logo on it. You figured maybe it could be a talking point. You got dressed and lounged for most of the day, panicking slightly at all of the emotions you were feeling around this ‘date’. You felt guilty,like you shouldn't be entertaining this but maybe Jake was right. Maybe you did need to just let go and feel something else. And he was offering to guide you there which he wouldn't ever know how much you appreciated. Not right away, at least. 

When Jake arrived to pick you up, your breath caught in your chest at the sight of him. Backwards ball cap, black muscle shirt with a silver logo on the front, and black shorts, along with running shoes. 

He was too gorgeous for you. At least that's what your brain kept telling you. He was too good looking to be interested in you. And you kept telling yourself that s he wanted was what was between your legs. He'd prove you wrong by the end of the night.

He helped you up into the big black GMC diesel truck that he drove and then you were off. He had the radio on low, country music, and you found yourself comforted at the fact that he even listened to anything. Your ex preferred silence when he drove.

The sun was beginning to set and when he pulled off the road and parked, your heart started up again. 

“Wait here.’ He said, putting a hand up. He gathered some things from the back and went to the bed of the truck. He prepared a place for you both to sit and pulled the cooler out where he had food and drinks. Once everything was ready, he went to your door and helped you out, then into the bed of the truck. He climbed up after and pulled his shoes off. You did the same and he placed both pairs on the tailgate away from you. 

“What kind of sandwich would you like?” He asked, reaching in and pulling one out for himself. You shrugged. 

“Surprise me.” You said with a small smile. He handed you a sandwich wrapped in foil and you opened it. Turkey, cheese, mayo, mustard. Coincidentally, one of your favorites. You both ate quietly and he cracked open a cold cider beer for you both. You clinked bottles together and took a sip. 

He opened a bag of chips and you both reached your hands in at the same time. You blushed. He chuckled and took his out, letting you go first. You did and when he took a chip after, he held it out to you. You attempted to grab it with your fingers but he pulled it away. He tried again and held the chip in front of your lips. You took it in your mouth and smirked as you chewed. He grinned wide and took another for himself. As you both finished your food, Jake cleaned up the trash and then he leaned back against his side of the truck bed. You smiled as you swirled the last of your beer around in the bottle and then pointed at him, leaning back as well.

“I thought you were gonna murder me.” You laughed and he feigned hurt before chuckling.

“I would never. I’m not a monster like your ex.” Jake mused and your brows furrowed. He wasn’t exactly wrong. While your ex wouldn’t go that far, it was still horrible of him to do what he did to you. Jake motioned for you to scoot over next to him. You hesitated, but eventually decided to move and sit next to him. He placed his arm around your shoulders and you let him. 

You glanced at him, observed him, seeing how devastatingly charming he was. How very handsome he was. The charisma almost reminded you of your ex. But Jake was different. Jake had an ego, but one that he could back up. He was, after all, a decently higher ranking Naval Aviator. You studied Jake as he did the same to you. Both of you locked eyes, but it was Jake who leaned in. It was Jake who reached up and brushed his knuckles over your cheek. It was Jake who waited for you to close the distance between the two of you, but begged for it at the same time.

And it was you who touched your lips to his first.

It was a tentative kiss, almost unsure, but not from him. No, from him you felt certainty. From him you felt...steadiness. From him, you felt safety. He reached up and cupped your face in his hands, gently. He was taller, broader, stronger than your ex, but somehow he was softer. Somehow he was more sensitive. Maybe it was because you were looking for it, or maybe it was because he just was that way, but you melted into Jake, into his warmth and refuge. 

As you parted, Jake's sage green eyes met yours, and his lips twitched. He saw in your eyes, what you were feeling. He saw the guilt, the anguish, the struggle, the fucking turmoil that your mind was wheeling and dealing and he pulled you into a tight embrace. One that made you think twice about going home. One that made you want to stay here a little longer.

“What are you doing to me?” You whispered unintentionally and you felt Jake smirk into your hair.

“Trying to convince you it wasn't your fault.” His voice was low, but soft, and he smoothed a hand over your hair. You bit your lip and looked up at him.

“You're making it too hard to let go.” You said softly and Jake tilted his head.

“I don't think you wanted to let go in the first place.” He murmured. You stayed silent for a while, rifling through the confusion in your brain. You wanted to stay. You wanted Jake. He had shown you more care and respect in the past three days than your ex ever had in the years you had been married. You swallowed hard, wondering what your life might look like if you decided to stay here. How could you afford it? Would Jake take care of you? Or would he dump you as soon as he got in your panties? Everything was uncertain and that felt awful to you. 

But with Jake, it all felt a little lighter.

He brought you home, and at the door, he simply kissed your temple and then shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as your hand lingered on the door. You invited him in.

“I may not read words on a page...but people...people I read every piece of.” Jake murmured, his eyes flicking to yours and holding your gaze. “And I don't think you're the kind of girl lookin’ for a one night stand. I think whoever he was, because of whatever he did, he didn't deserve you.”

“And you do?” You asked, brows furrowing. Jake reached for you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I didn't say that. No, I don't deserve you. But I'd sure as hell like to earn the right to have you.” Jake's fingers lingered on yours, gentle, steady, not begging, just waiting. You took in a shaky breath.

“You seem like the type of guy who just takes what he wants.” You said, drawing back slightly. He chuckled lowly.

“Oh, I am, but with some things, you can't do that. Some things are too good to take. Sometimes the journey to getting them is far too beautiful to not enjoy.” Jake’s lids lowered, and you noticed his lips twitch. Your gaze caught his, stayed there, searching. You were searching for a reason not to go through with this. A reason to stop. But you couldn't find one that Jake wouldn't turn down, that he wouldn't poke a hole through. You wanted him to come in. You wanted the one night to turn into many more. He squeezed your hand and pulled away, his fingers leaving yours. His smile was weak, like he knew he was hurting you at that moment. “If you’d like, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I’d like that.” You admitted. Jake’s smile grew wider then before leaving and it stayed that way until he was home and laying comfortably in his bed. He thought of you that night, and you thought of him, until you both fell asleep.

After your date with Jake, Patrick had wanted to know everything, but there was a little bit of your date that you wanted to keep close to your heart. The way Jake made you feel, you wanted to keep that between you and him. That wasn’t for anyone else to know, not even your best friend.

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

Jake: ill pick you up, i have something else planned, is seven okay?

You replied with a yes and this time, you picked a pretty blue dress, simple short sleeves, v-neck, skirt that fell flowy to just above your knees. You just paired it with pretty flip flops, just incase Jake had something crazy planned.

Your ex had hated when you wore dresses.

Everyone is looking at you. I don’t want people looking at you.

Just a reminder of how jealous  and insecure he was. Here and now though, without him, you were free to do what you wanted. And you had a feeling that Jake didn’t mind if people looked at you, especially if you were hanging off of his arm.

Jake picked you up at seven on the dot, and when you asked what you were doing, he simply replied ‘nothing’ with a big smirk. Your brows furrowed and you watched out the window as the small cottages passed by, all cookie-cutter like in size and shape. It didn't take long and Jake pulled into the driveway of a small house, similar to the other, except an American flag and a Navy flag hung from near the front door. 

Jake turned his truck off and hopped out, going around to your side to help you down, much like a princess exiting a horse drawn carriage, except your chariot was a tuned GMC Duramax diesel that you looked at a little too long when Jake left last night, and your prince was a Naval Aviator, dressed in a white t-shirt that showed every defined abdominal muscle when the wind blew, and black athletic shorts.

He led you up the steps and through the door, where you were greeted by a beautiful black dog, with amber eyes, pointed ears, and a sleek coat. He was medium sized and excitedly jumped at Jake, but poked at your hand gently. 

“Ballast, platz.” Jake commanded and the dog obeyed, going to a bed in the corner of the room. When you entered,  you noticed there was no hallway, just the living and kitchen. There was a small square table, presumably his dinner table, and he had a tv mounted on the wall. His sofa was small, just enough for no more than four people to sit on, but everything felt cozy. Jake turned to you. “Did you want me to show you around or...”

“Sure. I’m assuming this is your place?” You said with a small smile. He nodded and smirked.

“It is. A little better than on base housing. Closer to the water. And a backyard for the pup.” He glanced at the dog, who wagged his tail. Jake released him from his place and the dog circled you and Jake a few times before settling. Jake ran a hand over the dog's head and the dog whined and panted, while looking between you and Jake. 

Jake knelt down and rubbed the dog's neck. “I know I brought a girl home. It's supposed to be against bro code but I really like this one.” He said to the dog, then his gaze shifted to you. 

You blushed. Then, you decided to try something. You batted your eyelashes and smiled wide.

“You like me, huh?” You asked, and Jake rose, crowding your space immediately. You feel your cheeks heat more at his proximity. His breath is warm and minty in your face as he reaches up to brush hair from your face. He's staring at you in a way that you've never known or seen. You might call it reverent.

“I do like you.” He murmured, closing some of the distance between the two of you. You searched his eyes then, looking for a shred of a lie, as if you could see it in his irises. You knew you couldn't but you knew what love looked like, and you might dare say underneath reverence, was love. 

You closed the gap. Jake draws back, only slightly,  almost surprised at your neediness. It manifests in your fingers, tugging at his short blond locks, in your hips pressing against his, in your body begging for his. 

You could feel his smirk. You could feel the lust coursing through him. And you felt it deep down within yourself, that primal need to fuck. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you had met your ex husband, but this time it felt different. This need felt different. It was stronger, more solid. Maybe it was because this was all new and exciting, or maybe, just maybe you were starting to develop feelings for the blond aviator.

His arms wind around you and pull you closer. He presses his body into you, pushes you back toward the stairs and when the back of your heels hit the step, you glance back. Your gaze settles on Jake and he raises his brows, motioning toward upstairs.

“You wanted a tour right?” He said, huskily. You nodded with a huge smirk. You turned and he followed you upstairs, biting his lip as he watched your hips sway, your ass in his face as you both headed up the stairs. The black dog followed, hot on Jake’s heels but as you both got the top step, Jake asked the dog to ‘platz’ again. He turned to you and guided you toward an open door, where you saw a bed, with a white sheet and two pillows. Very standard. There was a small balcony and there was a cool breeze coming through it, making the sheer curtains blow gently. 

Jake led you to the balcony, letting you look out at it for a moment. You took in the shoreline below, the palm trees sparsely littered along the coast here and there. The sun was setting, hues of orange, pink, and blue melding together in the sky. Jake’s arms snaked around your waist and you let yourself melt into him. You let your head fall against his chest. You let your back lean into his chest and you let his fingers trace patterns across your mid-section. 

You turned in his arms, and reached up to run your fingers through the blond hair at his temples. You tilted your head, noticing there was a tiny bit of grey on either side.

“Does this conclude the tour?” You asked softly. Jake grinned.

“Well, this concludes the house tour, but...there’s another type of tour I could give you.” He said, as you giggled, your hands meeting his chest then. Your eyes locked for a long few moments before you spoke again.

“I think I’d be up for that tour.” You say softly, stretching up to kiss him. You felt him sigh heavily, and he began stepping into your space, forcing you backwards away from the balcony, and toward the bed. He was gentle, his body leading the way. Your legs hit the back of the bed and you lowered yourself, looking up at him from hooded lids. You poked your nose toward him and he knelt down in front of you, his hands meeting your thighs, pausing.

He was looking for permission.

You placed your fingers atop his, then moved his hands to the hem of your dress. You wordlessly asked him to start there. It had been months since you had been with anyone. Months since you’d had release. You needed this, wanted it, but you were nervous. You’d gotten used to your ex, who, at the end, wouldn’t even look at you when you had sex. 

Jake’s eyes met yours, his hands moving up and under the skirt of your dress. They were warm and rough as they met your hips. He hooked his thumbs in the band of your panties. You placed your hands on the sheets and leaned back slightly, allowing Jake to pull the pretty lingerie off that you'd picked. 

“My favorite color.” He murmured, holding them up by one finger, his gaze fixated on the navy blue satin panties. Yes, you did match it to your dress. Yes, you guessed at what color he might like. Yes, you had worn it hoping he would get the chance to do exactly this. You didn't want a one night stand. You just wanted Jake.

He stood then, slotting himself between your thighs. He pulled you closer, letting you feel him through his shorts. Your cheeks went red and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“You sure about this?” He asked, as he pushed the skirt of your dress up at the same time. You nodded hesitantly and he clocked it. He reached up, cupping your cheek. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You said, firmly. Jake raised a brow. 

“Why?” He asked, fingers trailing down to your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your dress down so that it rested against your upper arm, exposing your bare skin. He tilted his head.

“Because I want to know if I actually like you or if I just want to have sex with someone.” You admitted. Jake bit his lip and his other hand came up to pull the dress sleeve from your other shoulder. His eyes were hooded as a small smirk formed, his thumb brushing against your collarbone. The gesture was small but it made you shiver. The way his fingers moved didn’t feel like he wanted to have sex, they felt like he wanted to explore. Like he was excited to explore you.

“So, if we have sex, and you don’t want me after, are you just going to leave?” He asked, hand traveling around to the middle of your back. He was looking for a bra. His fingers paused when he found none, head tilting the other way, smirk growing wider.

“If you wanted me to, yes.” You said, as his hand traveled around to the front of your dress. Your breasts fit perfectly in his hands and he squeezed gently before you saw his eyes darken even more. The realization hit him that the front of your dress was padded and all he had to do was slip it down to expose your breasts made his cock twitch.

“I wouldn’t want you to.” He murmured, eyes darting to yours. His hands were warm on your skin and you could almost feel the electricity between the two of you, the sense of anticipation that was coursing through you both. Your brows raised at his comment.

“But if I didn’t want you...” You began and he leaned down, taking your lips in a needy kiss before speaking.

“I would convince you otherwise.” He said softly, and your hands met his chest then, fingers curling into his shirt. You tugged unconsciously and he pulled away for a short moment, to remove the white t-shirt. You swallowed hard as he revealed tanned, toned skin, rippling muscle that flexed with the smallest movement. Your eyes traveled down to the v-line that led into his shorts and your breath caught, noticing the outline of his length. You’d felt how hard he was, but now that you were seeing it, you almost didn’t believe it. 

Your ex could barely look at you, and Jake was looking like he craved you. You weren’t the problem.

“You okay?” He asked and you nodded, your eyes tracking up over the hard planes before you to his face, that naughty smirk plastered there. You took a deep breath, letting it out shakily before reaching for your dress. He watched as you slowly pushed the fabric down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, the nipples pebbling. Jake licked his lips as he watched your breasts bounce free. He wanted to grab them, squeeze them, suck on them, but he didn’t want to scare you away either. He wanted to take it at your pace, because he could tell you were still unsure. His hands met your forearms and traveled up, thumbs tracing your jawline, then stopping to cup your cheeks again. He bent down once more, lips gentle on yours. 

You reached for his chest, never having felt muscle like he had. You explored for a few moments, hands feather light against his skin. He allowed it, letting you run your hands up and down and memorize his body. You paused at his hips, at the waistband of his shorts, and you glanced up. He nodded. 

Your fingers dipped beneath the elastic, pushing the material down. He had boxer briefs underneath, and the scent of his sweat, his arousal hit your nose then. His shorts fell to pool at his feet and your hands reached for the briefs, beginning to pull them down too. Jake stopped you though.

“Whoa there, let me give you some attention too. We can take turns.” He said, placing your hands on his stomach. He guided you further onto the bed, climbing over the top of you. As he pulled your dress down, fingers brushing your sides, and your hips, and your thighs, you let your head fall back against the mattress. His touch was soft, and you hadn’t felt anything like it in such a long time that it felt almost too good to be true. 

Jake studied you for a moment as he removed your dress completely, watching your expression change from reluctance to pleasure. He threw your dress to the floor, again climbing over you, but this time he spread your legs, and pressed his length against you, the only barrier being the fabric of his boxer briefs. The feeling of his hardness elicited a small moan from you. 

“What do you like, baby? Do you wanna do it like this, or is there a position that's more comfortable for you?” He asked, mouth hovering over your breasts. He pressed a kiss to the top swells, and you sighed, the feeling of his warm lips on skin reserved only for a lover sparking fire low in your belly. 

“I don't know...I've never been...”

“No one has ever asked you what you like?” He asked and you shook your head. He scoffed. “Well, you've never been treated right by a man then.”

Jake let his lips fall further, connecting with one of your nipples. Your breath caught and you felt him smirk, as he gently touched his teeth to the skin, not hard enough to hurt, but not too soft that you couldn't feel them. He teased both nipples, sucking and nipping carefully, all the while his eyes on your expression, which delved deeper into pleasure the more he worked.

When he ceased, he rose, his lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss, more wanton than before. It made your head spin and your hands gripped his biceps. You felt the muscles underneath flexing as he hovered over you. Your hands traveled up and around to the back of his neck, nails pressing into the back of his shoulder muscles. He drew back, and pushed the boxer briefs down all the way finally, letting a groan of relief escape his lips. You felt heat blossom below your waist and at the back of your neck, spreading around to your cheeks. Jake saw this, saw the rosiness settle, and it only fueled him more. 

“One second.” He said softly, backing off the bed. He went to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. You propped yourself up, watching as he pulled a condom and a bottle of lube from it. He placed them on the bed next to your hip and then he knelt at the side of the bed, pulling you by your hips toward him. He splayed his hands on your stomach and rubbed his thumbs over the soft flesh there. Your brows furrowed as he kissed just above your belly button. Then below it. Then he kissed the dip at your hips, grazing his teeth over the layer of natural padding you had. 

You felt the room spin as you watched him kiss up and down your inner thighs, You felt your pleasure building and he hadn’t even touched you where you wanted him most yet. No man before him had ever taken this much time before shoving his face between your legs, but Jake. He was teasing you and taking his time so that you would be ready for him. 

“If at any point, it’s too much, or you don’t like something, tell me. I want you to feel comfortable, okay?” He said, rubbing his thumbs up and down the back of your thighs, before pressing a long kiss to the crease where your leg and thigh met. You nodded, because that was all you could muster. You couldn’t form words at the moment. You barely had any thoughts either, just static between your ears and that static ceased when Jake dipped his tongue inside you for the first time. 

He was gentle, more so than you’d expected. He was a damn Navy pilot. They were all raucous and wild. Not Jake. Jake was reserved. He commanded any room he was in. But he was also calculating. He was puzzling over every move he made and not just how it would benefit him, but how it would benefit you.

He took long, languid laps at your center with his tongue, his hands still splayed wide on your stomach. He felt your abs tense and release as he worked you further up to the peak of your pleasure. He hummed, letting his eyes close, letting himself get lost in your taste. He drew away for a moment, inhaling evenly through his nose and dragging a hand down to pull your pussy lips apart at the top. He used his thumb to push the skin up and expose your clit even more. 

When he dove back in, alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue into you, your hips bucked, unable to control your body’s natural urges. He chuckled as you kept moving, your head lolling back against the sheet, your hands gripping the sheets above your head. He stayed there, but his warm breath only pushed you closer as he coaxed you toward that final peak.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good. Such a good girl.” You laughed at his words, out of surprise, out of excitement, out of ecstasy, as he continued, adding one more layer to the mix of sensations. His thumb. He pressed his thumb firmly on your clit, and drew small circles before placing his mouth back over you, taking one long drag, sucking hard one last time before you fell apart. You called his name, felt your walls pulse hard at nothing, felt your muscles seize, your fingers dig into the sheets. Your breath came out in shallow pants and he kept his mouth on you, gently licking you through your comedown. 

Your heart pounded and your breathing took a few minutes to come back to baseline again. Your eyes met his, and then you reached down, running a hand through his short blond locks. He preened, smiling like he’d just done the best thing ever. And he did. At least for you. He wiped his mouth on the sheets, then stood, and you couldn't help but look down at his cock, hanging hard between his legs. You’d seen the outline of it earlier, felt it against you, but seeing it now, you realized he was a little bigger than average. He was certainly bigger than your ex. Not by much, but enough for you to notice and you bit your lip as he reached for the condom, ripping it open with his teeth. He rolled it onto his length and placed the wrapper on the nightstand. He took the lube and flicked it open, but before he poured any out, he looked at you.

“Is it okay if I use some? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said and your brows knitted. You propped yourself up.

“Uhm. I’ve never needed it before.” You said and he raised a brow.

“You’ve never used lube?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I mean, I’ve wanted to but...” You began but he shook his head, waving a hand.

“He didn’t want you to? That’s shitty. Doesn’t matter if you’re wet already. A little lube helps it feel even better, I promise.” Jake assured you. 

“I’m not opposed to it. I just wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting any of this really.” You said, your voice still slightly shaky from the orgasm he’d given you. He smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. He climbed onto the bed and repositioned your legs so they were spread wide again, slotting himself as close as he could. 

“I want you to feel good. If you feel good, I feel good. Got it?” He asked and you nodded hastily. His cock was draped over your center. He glanced down, then back up at you for permission. You bit your lip, wanting to ask for something, but not wanting to interrupt his actions. He noticed though, watching your eyes dart from his length, to his lips. He squirted some lube onto his palm, then rubbed along his length to spread it. He put a little bit more on two fingers, then dipped them just at your entrance. He saw you still looked hesitant, so he asked,“What’s wrong?”

“ I...um ...can you...I’m sorry, it’s silly, Nevermind, go ahead.” You stuttered, glancing away from him, embarrassed. He wouldn’t have that though, guiding your gaze back to his by way of two fingers on your chin.

“What do you need from me? Tell me. Is there something you like that you want me to do?” Jake said, and your bit your lip a little harder before your jaw tightened. 

“Can you...when you put it in...can you kiss me...at the same time?” You shifted uncomfortably after asking, feeling silly. You avoided eye contact, but Jake wouldn't have that either. He leaned down, using one strong forearm to hold himself up. His lips hovered over yours.

“I can do that, of course.” He said, doing exactly what you asked, lips connecting with yours. You brought your hands up and cupped his cheeks, fingers combing through the hair at his temples as he took himself in his other hand and rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself with more lube and your wetness. When he pushed inside of you, he moaned into your mouth, and you did the same, melding into one shared sound of satisfaction. Once he had an inch or two in, he let go and brought his other hand up. He placed both hands around your head, sinking further into you, letting you feel every inch, letting you adjust slowly to him. He slid in so easily, between the lube and your own arousal, as you continued making out, you could only think how nothing had ever felt this good with your ex. 

When he was fully sheathed inside your warmth, Jake paused, and broke the kiss. 

“Good?” He asked, his voice dropped an octave from before. You smiled up at him, brushing your fingers through the hair at his temples. He leaned in for another kiss, then began to move his hips, slowly at first, and you knew this was very different. You could feel how strong he was, and how much he was holding back. You moved your hands down to his chest, dragging your nails gently down. His thrusts were measured, even, and your movements didn’t seem to affect him, even as your fingers brushed over his nipples, down his torso, feeling the coils of muscle in his lower half as he began to pick up his pace slightly. 

You thought it was all innocent, but Jake was barely hanging on. He was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to keep his composure, trying to make love to you, not fuck you. He didn’t want this to be one night. He wanted more, and if he could show you just how good he could be, maybe you’d think about staying.

Your hands traveled back up to his shoulders, then down to his biceps, where they stayed, wrapping your small hands around his bulging muscles. He slowed for a moment to kiss you again, and you could feel the lust passing between the two of you. You hadn’t realized your second orgasm was building, coming quickly, not until your lips met again. You felt your walls clench, and you know Jake felt it too, because he shifted slightly, tilting his pelvis just slightly for a different angle. You sucked in a sharp breath at the same time he did, your eyes locking onto his green ones.

Jake felt his balls draw up tight, his abdominal muscles tighten and he knew he was at the edge, just about where he couldn’t come back from. He sped up a little more, and that was when your mouth dropped open, small sounds of pleasure begging to leave your lips in time with his thrusts. He kissed your neck, down to your collarbone, grazing his teeth over it as his hips stuttered, losing rhythm, losing control. He held on for a few more thrusts before he let out a low and guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands flew up to the back of his neck, nails digging in as you too, came undone, muscles clamping down hard around him. He stilled, filling the condom. He stayed there, raising his head then to kiss your jaw.

Jake felt a wave of exhaustion roll over him, his vision blurring for a second as he felt your pussy flutter around his length. Your fingers combed through his hair comfortingly, letting him know that you were good.

He didn’t ask how you felt. He knew. He could feel it. Could feel you. He could see just how flushed your cheeks were, how swollen your lips were, and he could feel the warmth between the two of you. Jake let his length slip from you, and he stepped off the bed for a moment. You sat up, taking a deep breath, body still feeling electric with post orgasmic bliss. Jake motioned for you to follow him, helping you to stand, legs shaky. 

He led you to the bathroom, and he carefully pulled the condom off, disposing of it, then wiping himself off. 

“Do you want to rinse yourself off or do you want me to help?” He asked, eyes flicking to the shower. 

“Help?” You half-asked, and the corner of Jake’s lips turned up. He brushed past you, turning the water on warm, borderline hot, before taking your hand and guiding you over the short wall, making sure you didn’t slip. He stepped over it as well and closed the curtain. 

“I only have my soap and shampoo so if you want to actually wash yourself, you’re gonna smell like blue cypress and...” He took the bottle from the shelf and read it aloud. “Uh...coastal air. Apparently.” 

You giggled softly. “I wouldn’t mind smelling like you.”

He smirked wide as he squeezed some of the body wash into his hand and lathered it, then began to wash your body first. He didn’t scrub, just smoothed his hands over your wet skin, and he took special care to between your legs. Once you were all soapy, he washed himself, just a quick and rough scrub before helping you rinse yourself off. 

When all was said and done, he offered you a towel and he wrapped his around his waist, leaving you to do anything else you needed to, but not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. As he left the bathroom, you took a moment, looking in the mirror. You looked, really looked at yourself and for a moment, you studied yourself in the mirror. You felt the tension of the past few months had melted away, and as you thought of the blond pilot just across the hallway in the bedroom, you smiled. Not a fake one, a genuine, huge smile. A smile you hadn’t smiled in a long time. After drying yourself and peeing quickly, you headed back into the bedroom, and found Jake laying under the sheets, an arm behind his head. His other was draped across his stomach. 

“So, are you staying?” He asked, and you grinned, climbing underneath the sheets and cuddling against him.

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

You shifted, opening one eye halfway. You felt hot breath on your neck, and a warm body against your own. You pushed back against him, remembering that Jake was laying behind you, under the sheets, and it was hot under them. You rolled just in time to see him grin and open his eyes. 

“You're up early.” His voice was raspy and rough, his fingers instinctively dancing across your lower back.

“Every day.” You said softly, and Jake brought a hand up, running his fingers through your hair gently. His eyes studied you.

“Stay.” He begged, his nose brushing your cheek, fingers working steady circled on your bare hip. You knew what he meant. Not just stay the morning, or the rest of the day. He meant stay with him, be with him.

“Jake...I...” You hesitated. You're brows knitted. You felt tears sting your eyes.

“Don't tell me you can't. Just promise me you will.” He murmured, his lips feather light as they connected with yours. He was offering something that you didn't think would ever come again. A second chance, and safety. You wanted it. Craved it. Needed it, just like you'd needed him last night. You bit your lip. He was staring expectantly. 

“I'll...”

“Stay. Give this a chance.” He said, your brows knitted in the middle, never having known the want that he was displaying. He bit his lip then. “Give us a chance.”

“I...want...to...but...” Your gaze dropped.

“Don't tell me you're scared. I don't believe that for a second.” His voice was softer then, as if he knew you needed reassurance. 

“I am though.” You admitted. 

“You've already done the hardest part. You left him.” He said. 

“Yeah, but the next part...leaving my home. The only one I’ve ever known. That’s even scarier.” Your voice trembled and Jake pulled you closer,  wrapping his arms around you. 

“I’m on leave for a few months until my next deployment. I can help. I’ll come with you.” Jake said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. 

“You don’t need to.” You curled into his chest, your words a lie. You wanted him to.  You did need him to.

“But I want to.” He murmured, and you settled, listening to his heart, and hearing your own sync up with his while you both began to drift back to sleep. 

You slept until late morning. You awoke and you had sex again, a different position, a different, more needy, rougher, encounter but still wholly satisfying in the same way as last night. 

Jake made you breakfast and you helped him with the dishes after. You both walked Ballast on the beach, chatting as you went, learning new things about each other every minute. 

And when you got back, you went for round three, learning each other's bodies. Learning everything that you could about each other, trying to figure out if this was what you really wanted. If he was who you really wanted. 

You told Patrick you were going to stay with Jake again tonight. He screamed with happiness on the other end of the line, making you laugh. 

It felt easy with Jake, the domesticity, and you wondered what you would do if you stayed, and when he was deployed again. What would that look like? Jake assuaged your fears though, telling you it would look like you exchanging letters back and forth for three months and living in his cottage with Ballast to protect you, while he flew missions and told you how much he missed you. 

Jake wanted to settle down. He wanted to find someone he could care for and he was willing to do whatever he had to give you a second chance because he knew you deserved it. 

🧭⚓️❤️‍🩹

You were ready to leave. To go back home. You'd said goodbye to Patrick, thanked him for everything, and now standing at the terminal in the airport, you took a deep breath. You looked at the flights, 10:15 to Logan International Airport in Boston. You watched as it got closer, as the time between now and you arriving home got shorter. 

You felt a hand at your back, and warm lips at your temple. You glanced up into sage green eyes. His tags hung on the outside of his shirt, and he held the black dog's leash in one hand and rolled his suitcase in the other. 

“Ready?” He asked, smiling and you reflected it back.

“Ready for anything, Jake.” You said, intertwining your fingers with his and heading to your plane. You were headed home. 

With Jake. 

[paulidiary]

!! ˙🍓 ̟★── cowardice, midoriya one shot

synopsis: your boyfriend izuku is more than hesitant to let you into his room at the dorms

containing: early stages of relationship, reader changed rapidly in the span of one year, izuku is scared of being judged, high-key insecure izu, izuku's pov, idiots in love ᥫ᭡.

back to izu masterlist. ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

"guys under 5'9 are just friends."

izuku recalled her words again and again, getting lost in the sight of her from afar. he was seated at the common area couches with tokoyami and mineta, his head leaned back as he kept on thinking about everything she had told that he had heard.

he remembered when at the start of the year, she blocked her previous boyfriend for sending her sweet good morning messages. she told mina she got the ick and no longer feels like dating him anymore.

"that dude was such a nerd.." y/n sighed loudly, complaining to her friend group. "i hate that every guy now is clingy as hell."

izuku wore that blank look in his eyes, his body slack and his mind running. they finally got together just before the summer camp, which was a story for another time. the point stands.

he's under 5'9.

matter of fact, he's not even close to 5'9.

he's a nerd, a dork, a fanboy. whatever you wanna call it. and if these thoughts weren't blocking him, he would be constantly around her and in her space.

and what made his anxiety strike even higher was that he was the most inexperienced a guy could be.

he didn't talk to girls until he was 15, and even then, he never did much of the talking. meanwhile, his beautiful powerful and gleaming girlfriend he somehow managed to bag has had a whole other boyfriend before she even got to highschool.

sometimes it was hard to stay positive when you know your girlfriend was kissed and loved by another guy. sometimes, like always-times.

at it seems like in just the perfect moment, he heard mina's voice calling out to te 3 of them. "let's make a contest for who has the best room!"

the soul left his body.

"no no no no please don't come in please don't please please-" he could rival eminem the way he pleaded with his classmates, but it was no use. someone opened his door already, and the boy had nothing left to do but to hide behind his hands.

y/n didn't even come inside, she stood right outside his dorm, just looking in. oh my god she must be absolutely disgusted what if she's regretting everything she had with me what if she breaks up with me she probably just realised how much of a loser i really am she's laughing wait is she laughing at me what is she laughing at- do i want to know or not i think i don't but it's better if i accept that now than later-

he felt a hand softly drag on the back of his head, her hand. he peeked through his fingers, his sight on her. she, his beautiful mesmerising otherworldly girlfriend wore a sweet and apologetic smile on her face, her enchanting eyes gleaming softy as she took her hand back.

"they're crossing boundaries tonight, clearly." her attempt at comforting him did work, he felt lighter and more sure of himself, instantly. "hey, my room's next." calling out to the noisy classmates, they moved on to inspect the girl's room, ultimately distracting them from the cause of izuku's discomfort.

"WOW, i didn't expect you to be into that kind of stuff!" kaminari exclaimed, and the rest of them came in to execute inspection.

the dormroom was cute, and full of every possible trinket you could imagine. every corner and place was occupied and uniquely organised. the desk area was full of anime figures, posters, and other toys. on the other side of the room were kpop stuff, but also other random items, like a baseball bat. everything was different, but worked together somehow. "i try to color match things at least." she murmured, attempting to explain herself.

izuku didn't come right in either, instead choosing to linger beside her just like she had done to him earlier. her cheeks were pinkish, and she no longer resembled the bitter girl she was a year ago. now she was happier, and dorkier.

"what do you think?" his heart jumped at the question, because it was from her. he reacted to every little thing she did, that's how much impact she had on him.

"it's very you." was what came out of his mouth unattended, but it was the perfect response.

"yours too."

a/n: i love my baseball bat🩷

[randomfandomswriting]

Mingi NSFW alphabet

A/N: Hiii this was just a fun lil prompt i’ve been meaning to do for a while now and who else than with Song Mingi.

A reminder that this is all fiction and doesn’t reflect the artist in any way. the point of fanfiction is fantasy. so keep that in mind if you think differently.

WARNING: Mentions of sex, NSFW things, etc. this is 18+ MDNI. as always please be safe and smart in real life. <3

A- Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mingi is sweet and caring, he wants to make sure you enjoyed yourself and that you’re okay. He’ll cuddle and bring you close to him or make you food and help you shower after.

B- Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Mingi will tell you its every part of you but he loves your eyes and let’s be real he’s an ASS MAN. forever checking you out when you walk around him, grabbing and slapping a cheek when he can.

C- Cum (anything to do with cum)

He loves to cum inside you rather that be deep inside you or into your mouth. he likes that you like that too.

D- Dirty secret (self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to share you with his best friend (he’ll never bring it up, not wanting to make you uncomfortable… but if you mention anything close to a threesome he’ll take the bait.

E- Experience (how experienced they are/do they know what they’re doing)

The way this man moves his hips, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

F- Favorite position (self explanatory)

Doggy because he loves your ass but once in a while missionary while using his entire body weight to hold you down, necklaces dangling into your face…

G- Goofy (are they more serious or humorous in the moment? etc.)

He has his silly moments but when he’s serious he’s locked in.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well groomed because he’s used to that. He doesn’t care how you do it because he’s a real man and just cares about you being comfortable

I- Intimacy (how are they in the moment, in a romantic aspect)

He’s a sensitive guy so he has his bouts of romantic, passionate, hold you close, kiss your lips, slow sensual sex.

J- Jacking off (masturbation head cannon)

Mostly when away on tour, he’ll call you and ask you to talk him through it, or when you send random sexy photos, and when you get the chance to join him in his hotel room/ or right before he leaves for tour, you give him jacking off material for the rest of his life

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks, or if they’re kinky at all)

Mingi loves to tie you up, blind fold you, hold you down. He likes it rough but passionate. He can also have his moments of submission where he wants you to take control, choke him, slap him, call him your good boy. He’ll look up at your with his pretty begging eyes and it drives you insane.

L- Location (favorite place to do it)

He prefers his own bed… but he’s not opposed to a quickie in the car or hotel rooms on tour.)

M- Motivation (what makes turns them on)

There are a lot of things that turn him on when it comes to you. At home when you’re being whiny and needy for him. when you’re out and you nonchalantly run your hand over his thighs under the table. In bed you whimpering his name, begging for it, that’s what gets him going the most.

N- No (turn offs, stuff they wouldn’t do)

Mingi wouldn’t be into degradation, he couldn't be mean to you even in bed, the most he would do is call you his little slut, but mostly it’s praise. Anything you’d hard no would be a turn off, he wouldn’t want to do anything that made you uncomfortable.

O- Oral (preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mingi would enjoy eating you out, hearing praise spilling from your lips as he works an orgasm out of you, but he’d be lying if he said he liked that more than when you go down on him.

P- Pace (are they fast or slow? rough or passionate? etc.)

For Mingi it really depends on the situation. Sometimes it’s needy and fast and rough, other times he takes his time and is torturously slow. He tries to always be passionate but sometimes you both just need to cum and get on with the rest of your day.

Q- Quickies (their opinion on them, how often, etc.)

He’s not a fan, but he’s also a busy guy with a tight packed schedule. It’s not often but again, sometimes you both need to get off and go about your day.

R- Risk (how game are they to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Mingi’s down to experiment within reason. He doesn’t like to be too risky, nothing too public (a car is about as far as he’d go)

S- Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long can they last? etc.)

It depends on the day, sometimes he can last for hours, he’s got a lot of energy in his big frame, other days he’s exhausted from his day and just needs to get off and go to sleep. He can usually last pretty long but on occasion when you’ve teased him all day until he got home, he is so quick to cum.

T- Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? on themselves or partner? etc.)

You’d offer the idea of him bringing something on tour to help him relax when you couldn’t be there but i don’t think he’d be into it. “I can just use my hand.” He’d tell you, rolling his eyes. On you was a different story, he loved using a vibrator on you, or catching you using it while you’re alone. “My pretty girl, so flushed without me. Let me watch you make yourself feel good.”

U- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing you, getting you all worked up before making you wait. He could barely handle you teasing him though.

V- Volume (how loud they are, if they’re vocal at all, the kind of sounds they make, etc.)

Mingi is so vocal… growling, moaning, whimpering, whispering to you, talking you through it, this man loves to hear himself. He doesn’t care how loud he is either, sometimes you have to cover his mouth when guests are sleeping over or if you’re in a hotel room too close to his members. They all tease him about it in the morning.

W- Wildcard (random head cannon)

This man is cocky about what he can do to you. How wet he can make you, how he can make you cum multiple times in multiple ways, he wants to film it just so he can watch you unravel over and over again, proud of his work.

X- X-Ray (what’s going on under their clothes)

Mingi is well endowed, that’s for sure.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s young and energetic. It’s high but he knows how to control himself.

Z- Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after.)

Not right away, unless he’s exhausted from practice all day and week.

[cherie-doll]

if you’re still doing requests, could i ask for cod men with an s/o who doesn’t want children? do you think that any of the guys be happy being childfree or would that warrant a breakup? feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to write for it 😊

make art not babies!!

(guys please send interesting/weird requests im back to feeling like trash, staying inside and not sleeping i need to at least do something somewhat productive)

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men w/ Reader who does NOT want children

♡ Price...

you both had too much stuff going on for either of you to dedicate time or put in effort to raise kids, it was only that he came to this realization when you were both in the living room one night, you reading and him watching the tv, a commercial featuring a family of five with kids and all came on

he noticed how neither of you had even mentioned the possibility of children, you weren't in any rush and neither was he, so he decided to straight up ask you, wondering if perhaps he had been ignorant to your wishes

but it was a relief when he heard that your plans for the future didn't involve children, whew, he thought he had been neglecting a need he had to fulfill, and he was content, although he did think it would be cute to have a baby, but not in this life

♡ Ghost...

the thought of having kids sort of makes him feel something he can't exactly describe, he knows his childhood wasn't what a child should've ever experienced and he knows that it won't be the same if he decided to raise his own, of course their childhood would be different but he still doesn't want them

so when you confessed not wanting kids he nodded along, listening and not interrupting you until you finished talking, perhaps you two had decided not to have kids for different reasons; mostly personal but what mattered was that in the end the decision was the same

he felt pity for the kids being born, the world they lived in nowadays wasn't going to get better at all, and you two would be doing your nonexistent kid a favor

♡ Soap...

would learn to live with it, it's really hard at first for him because he has seen how happy and beautiful other families looked when they took their kids out to the park, and he couldn't help but imagine that lifestyle for both of you even if he hadn't asked for your opinion first

no matter how many times you two have this conversation it doesn't resolve anything, it goes in circles and end with both of you saying that you wouldn't do anything that would hurt the other, but you're both adamant; you don't want kids, he would like to experience being a father

you get all panicky just imagining giving in, though you do love him with all your heart you can't imagine giving up like this, and he eventually gives up that dream of his, he faces the realization that you might leave, and he'd hate to lose you

♡ Gaz...

was dropping hints for a while, leaving a tiny baby onesie around and hoping you would pick up on it, you noticed it but paid it no attention as you knew what he was up to

you felt guilty having to let him down because he was such a sweet man, understanding and gentle with you, you had to admit that he would make a good dad, but you weren't fond of kids at all and knew it wouldn't be easy for you at all, even with him there to help out

maybe you were failing to appease him in that way, and when you hesitantly told him this, he felt ashamed because perhaps he should've noticed your reactions more, the way your face didn't react at all when you saw a cute kid at the grocery store or how you skipped the ads on your phone advertising baby clothes

you forgave him for that, and he found comfort in the dog you two adopted instead

♡ Roach...

kids?? him?! nope.

he can barely keep the goldfish he won at the fair alive, how is he supposed to take care of a child?!? yeah, he was pretty taken back when you brought up this topic, had he given any wrong signal or indication that he wanted a kid? because that was never his intention

buut the thought had crossed his mind once before, it happened when you had gone to the hospital to visit a friend of yours, she had just had a baby and he saw the softness in your eyes when you held the baby, you didn't notice him staring at you back then, but he had been observing

once you opened his laptop to find google searches of "what if my s/o wants kids".. it actually hurt thinking he might have been trying to warm up to the idea for your sake.. poor him, he had been stressing over this

♡ Alejandro

he wanted kids. i mean, it was only natural for him to want something to care for right? i believe it would cause quite the rift in your relationship, he couldn't comprehend why you wouldn't listen to him

was it because of him? surely you didn't mistrust him after all this time... or did you? he wondered if you really thought he was so cold as to possibly abandon you, so then he started trying to be more 'loving', but to you it was like a bite of overly sweet cake, it felt nice but always left a taste you didn't quite like in your mouth

maybe with time he would learn to get over it because he doesn't want to break up with you, no matter how much you may argue and fight over this, it's just not something he would drop you over

matter of fact he would be more upset at the idea of leaving you than not having kids, so in the end he does choose you

♡ Rudy...

he'd be fine with or without kids, in reality he doesn't know what he wants, he's only sure that he wants to spend his life with you, but doesn't know how

sometimes he thinks it would be a wonderful thing to experience and he's trying to talk with you but the other he's not so sure, you couldn't keep staying in this confusing back and forth so you were honest with yourself first when coming to terms that you didn't want kids, and THEN you told him

he was a little stunned, especially since you were so sweet with kids of family members or friends, but he understood that you just didn't want to raise them yourself, it was easy for him to let go since it wasn't a wish he wanted desperately

you made him happy in more ways than one and he was already incredibly lucky to have you, he could live without children of his own

♡ Phillip...

he treats just about anyone like family, i mean just look at how he treats his Shadows, so no doubt he's thought about having kids with you plenty

he would always hint at it or joke around like "when we have a son/a daughter", but you never laughed at those jokes, more like you'd turn away because how were you going to crush that dream of his?

when you do sit him down and tell him it wouldn't warrant a breakup, he's not exactly selfish so of course he wouldn't want to put you up against the wall and make you choose between losing him or giving up and having kids if it meant staying with him

he could live with it honestly, later on he realizes it might have been for the best considering how he doesn't feel empty at all when he spends time with you

♡ Makarov...

i feel like he probably never really gave it a proper thought, like he barely managed to get into a relationship and actually get invested but he couldn't imagine putting in MORE effort for a kid

he has his plans for the future and in none of them did he ever think of the possibility of having a child so when you come around with the "i don't want kids" he's fine with it bc he never cared for one

he'd probably be one of those people who would HAVE to have a really good and sweet experience with a kid for him to want one, but knowing his lifestyle and near death experiences i don't think he's ever witnessed a cute, happy child lmao

♡ Keegan...

probably hates children already

this guy has been tired his entire life and he's seen how much energy a newborn drains, so he won't want to spend his years raising little brats who might turn out to be ungrateful, and not to mention how freaking awkward he gets when a relative hands him a baby and he's trying not to accidentally break its neck because he doesn't know how to properly hold one

he'd be plenty happy with just you, your wellbeing is his only concern and he doesn't wish to see you or him be burdened by anything else after you settle down

perhaps you could spend your days doing things together, he has plenty of things he'd like to do and discover about himself and he wouldn't want to waste that time on another human being that isn't you

♡ König...

he feels completely safe and at home with you, that comfort he's sought for so long in this cold, bleak world came in the form of you when you two first met, even if it took a while, you eventually reached a point of no return in your relationship when he could comfortably just walk into your arms and you would try your best to wrap them around his broad shoulders, you didn't even have to be perfect, but the thought of you two trying this out was enough for him (you can tell who's my current fave)

but yes at some point during that slow progress he reached that moment in which he realized how much sweeter life would be if there was a little one of yours around... in fact he sometimes got so lost in the thought he wouldn't even realize you were talking to him

and how could he ignore your voice? you knew it wasn't normal and neither did he... so even if you felt bad as you watched for once how his face showed reaction to your response, it was still your decision after all, he wouldn't want a breakup, he wasn't an idiot; just a hopeless dreamer.

♡ Horangi...

is quite literally the "fuck them kids" audio, you had already assumed that he wasn't the type of guy to desperately want kids because of his lifestyle so it was easy for you to have the "no kids" conversation with him

he's completely on board with your decision, it was your call to make anyways and he assured you that even if he did want them he wouldn't ever pressure you to have them, hell he'd be fine if you adopted a pet a called it your child if that's what you wanted

whenever you two are out in public and you see some kid throwing a tantrum you both sigh in relief that you won't have to deal with that

♡ Nikto...

he has two braincells which ricochet between you and food, so it'll be a 1 out of 10000000000000 chances he'll come across the thought of having a kid much less say it out loud

he doesn't even know what to do with kids, like you make them bake 'em inside for 9 months and then what? it comes out and you live with it until it learns to survive on its own? he ain't doing all that

when you tell him you mistake his silence for a negative reaction but really you've just confirmed what he's also wanted for a while now, if you didn't want kids then he for sure didn't want any

[thebirdandthebee]

Throuple | Dr. Robby

Author's Note: Idk just a little something comical. Please send requests - I love these little slice of life pieces.

Summary: Jack helps with a backyard reno.

Rating: PG

“Good job, baby,” you smiled, stepping out into your modest backyard to see your husband and his best friend had finally completed your new patio furniture. You handed out two icy glasses of pink lemonade. Jack caught Robby’s eye when he glanced over at your legs stemming from a pair of daisy-duke cutoff shorts. Robby gave a small shrug with a smaller grin.

“Y’know, some people get their furniture delivered already assembled,” Jack commented, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Now what would be the fun in that?” You grinned, taking a seat on the first completed chair.  Four chairs would go around the above-ground fire pit you’d had installed and then the two patio sofas would be up on the deck right off the patio door. You’d already rolled out a gorgeous indoor/outdoor rug and set up large solar-powered lanterns for evenings. “Then I can’t have two sweaty, gorgeous men flexing their muscles right in my backyard.”

Robby stood, taking the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe at the sweat over his brow.

“That’s the good stuff,” you winked at Jack. “What sounds good to you boys for dinner?” You asked, “I can order up from any part of the world – Thai, Vietnamese, Italian, Mexican…”

“Can’t stay, Sugar,” Jack replied. “Someone’s gotta save lives after 6 o’clock,” he added.

“Ugh, I was just going to break out the baby oil for you two to wrestle,” you pouted dramatically.

“Next time,” laughed, walking over to peck your cheek, “besides we both know I’d drop your man,” he added, giving you a smirk. 

“Thanks, Jackie – breakfast on us next weekend, okay?” You insisted as he headed back through the house.

Robby carried the loveseat up to the deck and you scrambled to join him, opting to sit in his lap instead.

“What do you think of the furniture?” you asked, scratching softly at the base of his skull where his hair tapered off.

“Looks good, baby, really wasn’t that hard to put together, no matter what Jack said,” he added, hand resting on your thigh.

“Good,” you smiled, “I’ll make him a little thank-you basket for next weekend, don’t let him skip out,” you added.

“You love rilin’ him up, huh?” Robby said, “if you’re not careful, he’s going to take you up on it one day.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” You asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Yeah well Dana already thinks we’re a throuple,” he snorted, “her word, not mine.”

“I can’t believe Dana knows what a throuple is,” you giggled. “Besides, if we were going to invite a third it would obviously be Frankie,” you finished. Robby’s brows shot up into his hairline at your comment and it took everything in you not to crack.

“Frankie? You think I’d let Langdon hold my dick?” He asked, making you cough out a laugh.

“Are you saying you’d like Jack?” You countered, giggling uncontrollably.

“How do you know he hasn’t already?” Robby asked.

“God, I need to visit work more often.”

[bm571158]

Right Where You Left Me- OP81

Previous Part Next Part

Daisy's POV

The two McLaren drivers had been flying all weekend. It was clear for anyone to see that the battle was going to be between the two of them for first place.

But when the chequered flag was waved, it was Oscar stood on the top step of the podium, and as conflicted as she might feel about her feelings for him, Daisy couldn't help but be happy for him. He'd put in so many years of hard work to get there, it was nice to see him finally succeed. Perhaps he had made the right decision when he decided to focus on his career.

She'd been on her way out to head back to her hotel when Lando caught up with her, jogging to catch up with her just as she reached the exit to the paddock.

"Good race today." She smiled as he fell into step beside her. "You did well."

"Would've been better if I'd won." He shrugged. "Come for a drink with me, to make me feel better?"

"Lando..." she sighed. "I can't... I have a flight to catch."

"Back to London?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I'm going to Monaco to catch up with some friends. It's Josh's birthday and I'm told we have a wild weekend planned."

Lando was quiet for a second. "Fly back with me then, and we can have that drink on the way there."

"You're not going to let me say no, are you?" She sighed.

"Nope." Lando told her with a laugh. "Is coming on a private jet with me really such a hardship?"

"Depends how annoying you're going to be." She joked. "It's fine, Lando. I've got a flight booked anyway. I need to get back to my hotel and get my stuff."

"So do that and I'll come and pick you up to take you to the airport with me." He suggested. "The flight doesn't leave until 8, there's plenty of time."

"You know you're really annoyingly persistent?" She asked him, laughing quietly as she shook her head.

"It's all part of my charm." He smirked. "Send me the address for your hotel and I'll see you in a bit."

She'd had half a mind to bail out and catch her original flight, but when she didn't give him the hotel address Lando had called her to find out if she was planning to ditch him and made her feel guilty. And that was exactly how she'd found herself sat in the back of a car with him being driven to the airport.

"Can I ask you something?" Lando looked at her curiously.

"The way you're looking at me, I'm inclined to say no." She told him. There was something about the look on his face that just screamed that he was going to say something inappropriate.

"You and Oscar?" He asked. "What's the story there?"

Daisy almost choked on air as he said it, her face turning bright red as she coughed and spluttered. She really hadn't thought that Lando was perceptive enough to notice.

"Nothing." She squeaked out in the end, reaching for a bottle of water as she coughed again.

"That wasn't even slightly convincing." Lando shook his head. "I'm not an idiot. I can see him looking at me like he wants to kill me every time I talk to you."

Daisy was quiet, gulping down some water to buy herself some time. "We uh... we knew eachother a while ago."

Lando looked at her again. "Yeah, that's what he said. But somehow I feel like there's a lot more to it than this. I'm pretty sure he'd look less like he wanted to kill me if I was flirting with one of his sisters than he does when I so much as look in your direction."

"It's... it's complicated." Daisy mumbled. "A really long story. And for gods sake, stay away from his sisters."

"I'm just asking because I really like you and I can't work out why you're quite so against giving me a chance." Lando mumbled, looking almost shy as he said it.

It actually made her feel bad, looking at how awkward Lando was as he spoke. The words came tumbling out before she had a chance to really think about what she was saying.

"Oscar and I... we uh... we dated, for a longtime." She mumbled. "The asshole ex I was telling you about? That was Oscar."

"I... you... what?" Lando spluttered, eyes wide as he looked at her. "You and Oscar? You and Oscar? Together? Dating?"

Daisy nodded. "It was a long time ago, before he got into F1."

"I don't know if this makes it any better." Lando stared at her. "You and Oscar?"

Daisy nodded again. "I'm sorry, I should've just been honest from the start but... I don't know, I haven't seen him in years and it's been really weird for me to be honest."

"I.... You and Oscar?" He asked again, sounding like he just couldn't even begin to process it. "You and him? Together?"

"I don't know if I should be offended that you're finding it quite that hard to believe." She chuckled nervously. "Look, it's old news. It's not... we're not like that..."

"But it does explain why he looks like he's going to hit me every time I mention you." Lando laughed nervously. "Oh this is going to be such an awkward flight home."

"What do you mean?" Daisy asked, just as the two of them arrived to see Oscar walking up the steps to the jet. "Oh fucking hell, Lando! Why?!"

"Well I didn't know it was a problem when I said you should come with us!" He protested. "If this is anyone's fault, then technically it's yours!"

"You said come with me!" Daisy pointed out. "If you'd said us and I'd known Oscar was going to be here then I never would've agreed to come!"

"Well again, I didn't know that it was going to be a problem!" Lando protested. "Come on, it's a short flight and to be honest he'll be asleep before  we've taken off and you won't even know he's there."

"I am going to kill you." Daisy sighed, shaking her head. "Do you know how much effort I've put into avoiding him and now I'm going to be stuck on a tiny little plane with the two of you?"

"You know I really don't think it'll be so bad." Lando tried again. "There's people out there who would kill for an hour on a plane with the two of us."

"I'm going to kill you." She muttered.

"You know when you said it's old news." Lando said slowly. "The way you're reacting doesn't make it seem like it's old news. If it was all over and done with and you didn't care you wouldn't be looking so panicked about talking to him."

"I see him in the paddock and talk to him every weekend." Daisy pointed out weakly.

"You've just told me you try and avoid him." Lando laughed. "You still like him, don't you?"

"No." She shot back immediately. "No, not like that."

"God you're a terrible liar." Lando laughed.

"It's.... It's complicated." Daisy choked out. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. How did you get me into this situation?"

"He still likes you, I can prove it." Lando declared.

"You... what? How?" Daisy spluttered.

"I'll show you... follow my lead." Lando smirked, opening the door and holding out his hand to help her out of the car.

"What are you up to?" Daisy asked warily. She took his hand to get out of the car, but when she tried to take it back he didn't get go.

"Proving my point." He grinned, walking up the stairs to the jet with her hand still in his, pulling her along behind him.

Lando was the first to round the corner into the cabin, calling out a casual "hey, Osc" in greeting.

Oscar had looked relaxed and casual, up until the point Lando had stepped further into the cabin and Daisy came into view behind him. She saw the way Oscar's eyes immediately landed on the way that Lando was holding her hand, staring at it so intently if felt like his gaze might burn.

"Hope you don't mind." Lando carried on and Daisy couldn't work out to start with if he was oblivious to the way Oscar was glaring or doing it on purpose. "Daisy's coming back to Monaco with me for the weekend."

"I see." Oscar answered tightly, and even from where she was standing she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

Lando ushered Daisy in to a chair, and from the mischievous look on his face as his hand trailed across her back when she slid into the seat she realised what he was up to.

Oscar meanwhile was sat opposite Lando looking like he was trying to pretend that he was anywhere but there with the two of them.

Daisy couldn't do anything but glare at Lando as his hand landed on her thigh, palm making enough of a noise as it landed against her skin that Oscar looked up, then promptly went back to staring intently at his phone.

"So, what are we doing for Josh's birthday?" Lando asked curiously.

"I don't know that we are doing anything?" She muttered. "Connor has a whole thing planned, which I can only imagine ends up in a club with everyone being very, very drunk."

"Sounds like my ideal night out." Lando smirked. "Josh will let me come, I'm sure of it."

"I-" Daisy closed her mouth again. He was right, of course Josh was going to tell Lando that he was invited. She wasn't even sure why she was trying to argue with him.

"I'm looking forward to it already." He winked.

Every so often, her eyes would wander to Oscar and the way he was staring intently at his phone to avoid any kind of interaction with the two of them. She wasn't surprised, but still it stung a little.

Lando on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying quite how much the two of them being there was winding his teammate up. He kept shooting Daisy looks that said 'I told you so' every time the muscle in Oscar's jaw clenched.

As soon as the plane touched down Oscar started getting ready to leave, and Daisy didn't think that she'd ever seen him look so relieved at the prospect of getting off a plane.

"You coming back with us, Osc?" Lando asked casually as his teammate got to his feet.

All he got in response was a rushed, mumbled response and before they could really say anything else Oscar was already halfway off the plane.

"See." Lando grinned. "I told you I'd prove it."

"How does that prove anything?" Daisy shook her head, getting to her feet and picking up her bag.

"Did you not see his face?" Lando asked, the two of them heading off the plane.

"He's had a long weekend, maybe he's just tired." Daisy offered, unsure she liked where this was going.

Lando snorted with laughter. "God, you're as bad at lying as he is." He shook his head. "I've brought so many girls on a flight home and he never even bats an eye, but I bring you and suddenly he looks like he's about to jump off the plane if he has to sit here for five more minutes."

"Yeah, it's awkward Lando." She sighed. "We're not... things didn't end that well and I don't think being trapped in a small space together is something that either of us would enjoy."

"It's awkward because he's still in love with you, and he's too awkward to say anything about you." Lando told her.

"He's not in love with me, Lando. He's the one that left me." She sighed. "Alright, can you just... can you just leave it? He made his feelings very clear when he ended our relationship and I really don't need you to make this any harder than it needs to be."

"You're wrong." Lando said firmly. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

"Whatever crazy scheme you're cooking up, please just don't." Daisy sighed. "I'm just here to spend time with Josh and celebrate his birthday. I want to enjoy my week off."

"And you will...." Lando smirked. "While allowing me to prove that I'm right."

"What's in this for you?" Daisy asked curiously.

Lando shrugged. "I don't know... maybe I'm hoping that you'll resolve whatever the hell is going in between the two of you and then you'll actually give me a fair chance because you won't be so busy trying to stay as far away from my teammate as you possibly can."

Oscar's POV

If he'd had any other way to get home, Oscar would've got back off that plane the second Lando stepped on board with Daisy. It may only have been a short flight back to the south of France, but it seemed to drag on forever. He'd put his headphones on, stared intently at his phone, but every so often his eyes would wander to the two of them sifting opposite him and it felt like a punch in the gut.

Every time he looked up she was laughing, and not in a way that suggested she was just humouring Lando. She was really, properly laughing. Lando's hand sat resting on her thigh, her hand on his arm every now and then when he'd say something particularly funny.

For Oscar- It was painful to watch.

It had caught him by surprise as well. Lando hadn't mentioned it at all over the course of the weekend. Admittedly, Oscar had spent a lot of time catching up with his mum rather than listening to his teammate, but he felt like if this had been mentioned then he would've remembered it. It seemed like something that would have stuck with him.

By the time that the plane touched down Oscar had given himself a headache from how hard he'd been clenching his jaw.

He'd been pretending to stare at his phone for the entire duration of the flight, but in actual fact he'd just been spiralling silently in his own head about what was happening in front of him. Daisy and Lando? He'd been quietly confident that after Lando had done what he did in Jeddah that it was going to be the end of that and Oscar wasn't going to have to worry about it anymore.

But clearly, whatever Lando had said had worked. Because here she was on a flight back to Monaco with him for the week.

And there was absolutely nothing that Oscar could do about it either.

The worst part? He knew that she genuinely deserved to be happy, as much as it was painful for him to watch. If that was with Lando, then who was he to stand in her way?

He knew it, and yet his head was spinning just thinking about it.

He was up and out of his seat the second the plane touched down, his bag already in his hand and ready to get off the second they opened the door. He might have been trying to accept what was happening between his teammate and the woman he loved, but it didn't mean that he wanted to see it in front of his eyes either.

Maybe he should've accepted his mums invitation to go back to Australia for the week with her.

Except he couldn't, because he had to be in Canada in a couple of short weeks for the next race. So instead he was going to be spending the week at home in Monaco and trying his absolute best to avoid running into Lando and Daisy.

"You coming back with us, Osc?" Lando asked, jolting Oscar out of his thoughts.

"I uh... no, I'm good." Oscar mumbled. "I'm uh... I'm driving."

"Right...." Lando sounded uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he should believe Oscar or not.

Oscar wasn't entirely surprised that Lando was doubting him. The two of them had flown via helicopter from Monaco to Nice airport when they'd left and Lando knew full well that Oscar didn't have another way home from the airport.

But, he'd rather hire a car or pay for a taxi than spend any longer trapped in a small space with Lando and Daisy trying to pretend he didn't care and it wasn't physically painful for him to watch.

So as soon as the door to the plane was opened he said a very hurried goodbye, unable to even bring himself to look at Daisy, and then dashed off before anyone else could say anything.

He might've won the race that weekend, but somehow this new development had really taken the shine off the victory.

He'd known all along, deep down, that he wasn't over Daisy. But now that he'd missed his chance to tell her, it seemed even more painful.

[smindersonfan]

If I HAD to pick a favorite Twilight Zone ep, "A world of his own" because I like where bullied main characters actually have a happy ending and Keenan Wynn deserved his happy ending.

Tales from the Crypt: A three way tie between "Korman's Kalamity", "Séance" and "Well cooked Hams"; "Korman's Kalamity" because Harry guest-starred in the ep and his portrayal of a trapped man in a verbally abusive marriage being forced to take experimental fertility pills that make things he draws for his job as a comic book illustrator come to life is compelling and relatable in some ways. Though I might just be saying that to justify my bias that, well it's Harry. "Well Cooked Hams" because it gave me a renewed respect for Martin Sheen's acting cred whether he's the amazing Zordin or the old man Billy Zane's character kills for this "death defying act" he performs after Zane's character stole Zordin's stuff. The twist reveal at the end is worthy of a standing ovation and I believe later inspired the Inside No. 9 ep "Misdirection", withstanding Reece himself being a magician; a fact I recently found out by visiting his Wikipedia page for the first time. "Séance" again you can rule is bias again because the pen that inked the episode belonged to my hypothetical son (My momplex started with Harry.), but I don't just love it because Harry wrote the script. I love it for the film noir aesthetic. It's sharp in some places, the cast is rather interesting, but most of all it's kinda an homage to the 1972 Tales from the Crypt movie vignette where Peter Cushing plays a man who lives in a comfortable yet small home who's picked on constantly by a father and son, the latter of which pushes too far to get Cushing out of the house by sending evil valentines to him on the day and a year later, his spirit comes and...well, watch the end of "Séance" if you want the end of the vignette.

Tales from the Darkside: Another tie, this time between "All A Clone by the Telephone" and "Strange Love". Same song and dance with "All A Clone...", but this ep really shows off Harry's acting range. From playing Leon, a sensible, nice TV writer who keeps losing steady work to his alternate universe personality who makes our universe's Leon sound like a flirt who'd lie pretentiously to ruin his reputation with his girlfriend Delores. It really shows off how underrated Harry is as an actor and even HE hated being called that but he was, in Reinhold Weege's words, a DAMN GOOD ONE! And it hurts he doesn't know how we feel about his talents.😔😭 I'm sorry, t's been a hard seven years. Anyway, "Strange Love" is another favorite ep where Marcia Cross plays a female vamp whose fed up with her husband who ends up holding a doctor hostage now he knows they're vamps but she ends up falling in love with the doctor. A great episode, practically in my top five. I love how she turns him by taking a sample of her blood using a wooden stick and stabbing her lover with it, and that's between the sex sessions they have in her coffin while her husband's hunting.

Speaking of Vamps, Monsters has one episode involving pool and a vamp who ate a vamp hunter's older brother. That one is one of my favorites. However for #1 fave, it's four-way tie this time. The aforementioned "Pool sharks" with the femme fatale vamp mistress who killed the older brother of the main character, "New York Honey" about a greedy businessman who cheats on his wife with an anthropomorphic Queen Bee, "The Jar" about a woman played by Gina Gershon who kills her husband with a self cleaning creature who dissolves after eating its' prey; honestly, I only like it for the sex scene between Gershon and the guy who witnesses her killing him, and "The Demons" because I like Richard Moll and Christopher Guest. I also like the comedy of errors surrounding this demon summoning spell that only seems to summon accountants. At least Guest's character's wife ends up happy because he isn't talking to HER about his job.

'80's Twilight Zone: "A Matter of Minutes". Mostly due to bias based on Karen Austen being in this ep with Adam Arkin. (The bias comes down to, as it always inevitably does, Night Court and Harry by subsequence.) But the plot's an interesting one too. A couple gets stuck between minutes and is almost eliminated from existence after finding out every minute is constructed down to the last detail.

Inside No. 9 is hard. I can't get through "Misdirection" because Reece feels too Andersonesque to me to be the Billy Zane character in "Well Cooked Hams" plus the post killing Steve's character, he looks like someone spliced early 2000's Harre with Bill Hicks. I liked "3 by 3", though I wanna know who wrote the bit about one of the contestants wrongly guessing David Jason as the voice of Donkey because my inner 8-year-old would like a word with one of you. Despite the reawakening of my fear of vamps (Thanks, Reece!), I guess I'd have to go with "The Stakeout".

[honeyhotteoks]

if you don't mind me asking, can you speak more on the not so pretty parts of send off please? i'm sure they feel the love of the atiny who respected theirboundaries and praised them kindly, but i'm worried that by the time/if i'm lucky enough to eventually experience, it'll be something that the members have a negative view of :((

i don't mind talking about this at all!!

unfortunately i think my tweet that was lowkey subtweeting the weird racist girl who asked if yunho was open minded got taken to mean that i didn't appreciate send off..... and i definitely didn't mean that. so..... here's a little about send off and my general experience! (and also vip experience, b/c some of the cringe was actually not send off!)

what i'll say right up front if you don't want to read me ramble is that it was absolutely worth it, and it was an overall good experience that i'm happy to have had!! and the members were amazing during the entire thing, so please don't be worried at all that you would have a negative experience or be "lumped in" with people who have been weird towards them.

so what i will say about send off that was a little.... intense is just the nature of wanting to get to the barricade was a little stressful. and every city (because the venues are different) have a different layout for send off. in baltimore things were set up in the main hallway outside of the stage area, and they had made kind of a big U shape with barriers. we then all got to a section, sat down, and they they picked rows at random to walk back and line up where they told us to around the "barricade" of send off. ult went first, then the next VIP tier after that, so basically ult was front row and the other tier was behind us.

it was a bit of a frantic rush to get to the section and get seated which was stressful even though the row selection is random. i am a bit introverted and nervous in person, but i ended up asking around to others near me about how it worked, and people were super kind and talked me through it. i got the sense though that a lot of people around me had done it many times before, which is fine, i was just surprised i kind of felt like a VIP newbie. i didn't love how "fast" everyone tried to get seated and then make it to a good spot at the barrier, considering it was all just random selection and the members do a good job of circling around the full barrier.

it was also SUPER fast. that i won't lie about. some members took more time than others as well, so it was a little intense trying to manage who was coming next, what card to pull out, what to say etc. jongho and yunho went through with like serious efficiency, just signing and moving on and exchanging smiles/thank-yous, mingi and wooyoung were somewhere in the middle of chatty and moving fast, and then san, yeosang, seonghwa, and hongjoong were chatty and their manager was mostly moving them along. i'm not saying that's always, but at least that night that was the energy.

everyone around me in the barricade area were SUPER kind to me, and we were all kind of hyping each other up and helping each other get our biases attention which was amazing, so definitely don't be afraid to make friends.

the thing i didn't love because i personally felt kind of cringey and second hand embarrassment-y was when people were a little intense with the "i love yous" or trying to get a little clippable moment. like saying like "oh you're so so handsome" because they want a clip back of the member saying "oh no you're beautiful" or "i love you" etc. it's not that it's wrong to say that stuff... you can just see their expressions that close and it's clear they're tired, they just worked super hard on stage, and they're giving even more of their time during send off to a lot of people who are really passionate or spent a lot of money. i could just see on their faces that they were like "at work" so to speak, and so i didn't feel comfortable trying to get my like one big moment and pushing that energy onto any of them, yunho specifically when i was reading that energy from them.

to clarify.... i think it's fine to say i love you to them, but there's a way that some people say it which is like.... oh you're looking for something back, not saying it to say it. the difference between someone going "ah you looked so handsome tonight you're killing it" and "you're SO handsome you are SO SO SO hot" and wanting a response.

there were also some people who seemed to try to get things signed that they were explicitly told they weren't allowed to, but they were trying anyways.... which i get it, but definitely could make it harder for the members and managers to navigate. (allowed items are small things associated with the group such as PCs, albums, postcards, etc. not like unrelated items, which i saw some people trying to get signed like non-ateez items?)

and then there are people who i overheard who i think have been there many times or who perhaps do fancalls (unclear obviously i don't know them) but they seemed to speak to them a little more familiarly? like the kind of "oh remember me" energy that i just feel awkward about personally.

the things i did see at the concert that made me really uncomfortable were more during the show itself / during soundcheck. i was barricade, and was able to watch a lot of the people around me and while a ton of people were awesome .... there were also people who i was uncomfortable with.

there was a girl nearby me who was not clapping, not singing, not participating in the show at all except to film seonghwa, and then snuck out a telephoto camera during his stages. i can only assume she was a fansite, but it was still weird energy for a concert. there was also a few people who were actively reaching across barricade when told by security not to, trying to wave or get a particular member's attention, specifically during ments (literally saying their names, waving, trying to get them to glance over). and then some of the signs i saw were overtly sexual, which like.... i get it, i write smut, but that's on tumblr. i'm not going up to yunho and asking him to rail me in real life that's insane. so some of the banners i think people thought were funny just rubbed me personally the wrong way.

the thing that hit me was that when i was that close, i could actually see facial expressions clearly from the members, and they were not shy or subtle about ignoring people who were being inappropriate or weird, and then i noticed they seemed a little like put off by people only filming at the front. mingi and hongjoong in particular looked annoyed by it, and i noticed that once i shook off the shock of being so close and not knowing how to film / if i should film, i just started dancing and having fun and both of them vibed with me, looked at me, and gave direct fun interactions.

i guess at the end of the day, my hot take is just that when you're that close and you can really perceive them as people in the flesh.... it was way harder for me to behave even kind of parasocially, despite all the "my husband" shit i say online. but other people went the exact opposite direction and i found it very cringey. ateez aren't chronically online, they also are not native english speakers, and are actively doing a job..... it feels hella weird to blur those lines just to post something for clout on tiktok or whatever.

i'm glad i did VIP, and i'm definitely going to try for it again in the future mostly for stage proximity during the concerts, but i don't feel a deep need to do send off again, but i'm still very glad i had the experience. if i do it again, i think i'll just make sure i'm still one of the people being kind, thanking them for the hard work, and letting them get on with their night.

hopefully that makes sense. i don't want to dissuade anyone from the experience, the members are beyond kind and lovely, and clearly do not lump in the cringe people with everyone else, so just make sure you're acting in a way they would be comfortable with and you're fine.

[alyygx]

Video Confessions - Bob Floyd (Part 4)

Synopsis: When Bob Floyd lets Fanboy borrow his phone to record a video he has no idea that it will capture his deepest darkest secret...that he's in love with you. Little does he know that his confession was recorded until he lets you watch the video.

TW: Hangman being a huge jerk, Bob getting angry and defending the reader, alcohol consumption, swearing, girls in the boys locker room.

A/N: I haven't written anything in a while so I apologize if I'm a little bit rusty. This fic is dedicated to @geminiwritten for inspiring me to write again and for being an amazing friend! If anyone wants to send me a request for something written or for a photo edit just shoot me an ask!

Also, there's no use of y/n but I did have to use y/cs (your callsign).

I fully intended this to be one long fic but Tumblr is not allowing that so instead I will be posting this in several parts. Apparently length of parts may vary bc Tumblr is being stupid! *Tumblr's character limit is stupid too!

Word count: 958 words (total fic 7,043 words)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

“What exactly is the plan?" She asked once she caught back up with you. “Just trust me and do what I do." Phoenix was just about to protest when Bob's voice came urgently through the comms. “Bandit detected, North, 20 miles out, 600 knots closure." "That's our cue!” You replied, suddenly breaking South and climbing altitude. "You with me Phoenix?” You asked. "Right behind you.” She called, following suit. "Keep an eye on our bandit Bob. Let me know if he changes direction!” You instruct. "Copy. Wilco.” Bob replies. "Ok, Phoenix try to keep up.” You exclaimed as you pushed your throttle forward. Your plane suddenly picked up speed and you began scanning the terrain once again for your target. Not 30 seconds later Bob's voice rang back through the comms. "I'm picking something up on radar. I can't make out what it is but we're only 5 miles out. Bandit is coming in fast. I don't think he likes that we're getting close.” Gotcha! You think, immediately diving back down to the hard deck. “There it is, I see it!" Phoenix exclaimed and to your delight straight ahead of you was your bullseye. "Yes!” You exclaimed. "Well done, Team 2. Target acquired.” Came Maverick's voice. “Return to base."

The day was finally over. Maverick had decided that he was going to dismiss you a little early because everyone managed to find their target and said this was your reward. You were all walking towards the locker room again when you noticed Bob seemed to be in quite the hurry. “Hey Bob, wait up!" You called, jogging slightly to catch up with him. He didn't really wait though. Continuing to walk quickly up the hallway. You eventually managed to catch up, slightly out of breath now. “Hey wait!" You called again. “What's going on! Why are you avoiding me Floyd?" This made him stop in his tracks. He sighed and turned his gaze towards the floor. “I'm not avoiding you. I just need to get my stuff so I can get out of that locker room." He explained. “Yeah. I heard about Bagman giving you grief this morning." Bob’s eyes went wide as saucers. “You did?" He asked timidly. “Yeah. He’s such a jerk sometimes. I mean, I don't know exactly what he said to you but I wouldn't internalize it too much. Sometimes I think he just likes to get a rise out of people…and hear himself talk!” You smirked. Bob, however, let out a sigh of relief and smiled. You thought that seemed odd but didn't think too much of it. "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come over for a movie day or something this weekend?” You asked Bob. "You know, just hang out or something. I felt bad bragging about my girls day with Nat last week and I want to make it up to you. Plus, it's been way too long since just the two of us hung out.” You added. "Ummm…" Bob stopped walking. The door to the locker room was in sight and you noticed Bob’s face turning that shade of pink again. Seriously, what's up with him lately. You wondered. “Yeah, it has been awhile since we hung out hasn't it." His left hand went to the back of his neck, while his right started fiddling with the fabric of his flight suit. He seemed nervous, though you had absolutely no clue why. “Yeah, sure. I guess I could come over for a little bit." He finally managed to answer. “Awesome!" You exclaimed, bouncing on your toes a little. “This is going to be so much fun you'll see!" And with that you headed for the locker room door and pushed it open stepping inside, Bob directly behind you.

The rest of the week dragged on. Not that you weren't thrilled to be flying again and not because anything in particular happened to cause any sort of travails. It was because you were just so excited for the weekend, for your hang out with Bob. Everything else just felt like going through the motions. Just getting done whatever you need to to get closer to the weekend, step by step. Plenty of good things happened during the week, though, too. Team 2, your team, was in the lead as far as exercise stats, Maverick seemed to be in a very good mood letting you all go early to an extent almost everyday, you hung out with Rooster at the Hard Deck and beat the pants off him in pool resulting in him buying every one of your drinks for you that night, and come Friday you learned about this cool trick that Reuben could do. However, when you asked him to show you he couldn't. Stating he ‘no longer had the necessary materials to pull it off’. Fanboy, however, was more than pleased to share with you that he had captured the entire thing on video but unfortunately it was on Bob's phone. “Oh, that's ok. He and I are going to hang this weekend. I'll just ask him to watch it then." You told Mickey as you all were finally getting ready to leave for the day. “Speak of the Devil. Hey, Bob!" You called, seeing him exiting the building into the parking lot. “What time do you think you'll be at my place tomorrow?" You asked him. “Ahh! I'm so excited!" That made him smile. “Umm…I don't know. I was actually about to ask you what time you wanted me there." He replied. “Oh, umm… How about, like, two o’clock? Sound good?" You checked. “Sounds perfect." He replied. And at that you both made your way to your respective cars waving as you got in.

[taintedlxve]

Generally the most I ask of anyone is if they WANT to interact but are having trouble figuring out how they hit me up. We can discuss desires and general vibes of where we want a thread to go and I can take it from there.

[noodles-and-tea]

For the twins in time AU, I genuinely wonder what kind of people the young twins grow up into because of Stan’s/Ford’s influence. Especially if it takes years for the portal to get fixed.

(Sorry if it seems like I already sent this question, I don’t know if it got sent the first time I asked)

I haven’t fully fleshed out how Ford grows up in the past but I do have thoughts on Stan presently

[shepscapades]

would you ever consider making a dbhc timeline with links to each comic/work attached to the moments? it would be a lot of work so totally understandable if not, but as i go through the timeline you posted i've been wanting to find and reread the comics associated with many the events

Ouuhh, yeah, I briefly considered it, but it would make the timeline post really long and complicated I think (bc the timelines are hand drawn so I’d have to like… put all of the links under a read more, which would be a lot of back and forth anyway b/w scrolling up to the timeline and scrolling down to find the corresponding link), so I decided against it. The best thing to do is just pull up Character Post Lists in a separate tab, since everything is already chronologically organized there (plus, there’s still important enough in-between stuff on the character post lists that aren’t on the timeline—I don’t want to give the impression that anything is “unimportant” just because it isn’t on the timeline).

More than anything else, I just wanted the timeline to be like, an additional tool/visual to clarify and give y’all a better idea of the vague order of events, not a definitive source for everything (hence my noting that not everything is on the time). I know you end up with a bunch of tabs open, which is less than ideal :( but I really don’t want to de-incentivize the character post lists bc those are what take the most time to put together and update. Hopefully all of that makes enough sense!

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i am almost thirty years old. why must i still be plagued by the perpetual and unshakeable belief that everyone secretly dislikes me