#I'm very excited to share this with you all

[midnitetech]

🚀 Clean Launcher Beta – Try It Early!

Hey Simmers! I’m excited to share the very first beta version of my new Clean Launcher—a one-stop, user-friendly tool for managing your Sims 4 mods, cleaning cache and error logs, scanning for duplicates, and even backing up your important files. All the essentials in a single, easy-to-use app built for Windows!

What’s in the Clean Launcher?

🧹 Clean & Launch: Wipes cache and error logs, then starts The Sims 4 with a single click.

🗂️ Scan Mods Folder: Detects duplicates, hidden scripts, and missing files. Fix them in a click or two!

📦 Backup: Instantly zip up your Mods, Saves, and Tray folders.

📥 Drag & Drop Installer: Drop ZIPs and mod files right in—they’ll be sorted automatically.

📁 Mod Folder Organizer: Organize a chaotic mods folder into preset categories, Undo changes.

Check for Updates: See if your installed mods have newer versions, and download them! (Currently covers all of my mods and the biggies like MCCC, UI Cheats etc. but I've hosted the library the app reads online, so as long as you have an internet connection, you're covered for updates I make.)

...and more! I'm still working on the exception helper, as I haven't gotten it quite to where I want it to be. However, the Scan Mods Folder feature includes a Create Full Report function, which you can send to me if you have an error you're struggling with.

Important: This is a BETA release, so you may run into bugs or rough edges. I’d love your feedback—every report helps make it smoother for everyone! The Help & Online menu includes a bug report form, and a User Guide, which I've also attached to the post.

���� Submit Bug Reports

Thank you for helping shape the future of Sims 4 mod management! —midnitetech

P.S. Don’t be shy about reporting anything odd—even if you think it’s small! And as always, I never judge anyone based on their mod folder. You do you!

Windows only (currently)

PATREON (in beta testing for a week or so, then will be public. Anyone who's not a Patron and would like to test it, just message me!)

Download to your regular Downloads folder - this is NOT a mod, it's an app for Windows, and install it. I recommend you disable your antivirus as unsigned apps can give a false positive. I've scanned it with VirusTotal, and none of the major AVs are flagging it. You can also check your antivirus' quarantine section if it's already snagged it, and restore it from there.

[writingdevil]

Hiii Devil!!! [emerges from the ground all dirty and half-dead] You know very well how normal I've been over your latest Skeptunist fic, I've been yapping about it nonstop-

Anyways, I will scream and explode if you write a part 2 to that fic where Skeptic apologizes to Oppy for the argument and all the awful things he said to him. I would cry at this scene from Oppy POV, but Skeptic POV will definitely make me scream too skfkskf

Anyways! I go back into the ground now, thank you again for writing my previous request [I have been thinking about it a concerning amount /lh], and thank you for everything you do!! <3

(How did you get in the ground in the first place?!/silly. Anyway, YES- I've been dying to write a conclusion to this because it breaks my heart to break my ship's hearts. So I'm so excited to write this part, and thank you for everything you do as well, because you make me just as feral about Skeptunist. Enjoy!)

Part One

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

'You're useless-'

Useless. Useless.

That's all Opportunist was.

It was a truth that had been in the back of Opportunist's mind forever, but having it shoved so plainly in his face now, it was hard to deny it any longer.

Opportunist really was a selfish monster.

It felt as if his mind was torturing him, not letting him move on from that incident. He woke up and saw his face, he tried to do something and he heard his voice- Opportunist tried to do literally anything and he was just reminded of that day.

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

He felt his heart break into tinier pieces. Oh, Skeptic.

It's been two weeks since that day, and the more time that passes, the more time that Opportunist had to reexamine his own actions, and there was a clear conclusion to come to.

Opportunist hadn't changed.

He was still just a heartless, manipulative backstabber, who was more than willing to lie to his own flock.

If Skeptic, the sharpest of them all, the person that claimed to know the real Opportunist, thought that, then how could it not be the truth?

The worst part though, was that Opportunist didn't even know he had been manipulating Skeptic.

Opportunist had been guarded at the start, of course, but it felt like Skeptic had approached him differently, not with caution, but with an open mind, as if he didn't care if Opportunist would betray him or not.

Opportunist actually thought that Skeptic saw something good in him, saw something worth giving his love for, and all those happy moments that they shared afterwards.

Opportunist said that he loved Skeptic.

Too bad it was all a lie.

He should've known that nobody would like what was behind the mask. He should've known that everyone thinks about themselves, even subconsciously.

He should've known that he wasn't worthy of love.

Opportunist has always been afraid- a secret that he will take to his grave. He was always afraid that there was something more powerful, more stronger, more sinister than him, and that they would attack Opportunist when he least expects it, so it was simply better to play both sides until he knew which side was the winning one.

But with their newfound freedom and no cabin to endure, there suddenly wasn't a side to pick- just birds that knew Opportunist would betray them at the drop of a hat.

That put him in a difficult position, one where Opportunist was just terrified all the time, that his efforts of pleasing and playing nice to the others would all be in vain and he would be alone forever.

But then Skeptic came along and changed everything Opportunist thought about himself- or so he thought.

Opportunist thought he was in love with Skeptic, that he cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Turns out, Opportunist just clung to the first and only person that gave him a chance.

Opportunist took advantage of Skeptic's kind and inquisitive nature, and sunk his claws into him, to the point that he made Skeptic fall in love with a mask of himself. He made Skeptic believe that he was loving and funny and caring- but what he really was, was a coward, who couldn't stand to be alone.

So he tricked Skeptic into loving him, and now Skeptic knows the truth.

Opportunist thought he cared about Skeptic's wellbeing. He thought he wanted Skeptic to relax for the good of his health. But it was all so that he wouldn't leave Opportunist, but Opportunist pushed him too far.

He really was fucking useless.

He couldn't even keep a partner from overworking himself, and now Opportunist was more aware than ever that he was so willing to deceive people, that it was practically second nature to him.

So Opportunist decided not to feed into that nature anymore. He holed up in his room, thinking about Skeptic over and over again.

His heart had never been more shattered, and he's never been more afraid of his own mind.

He didn't leave his room. He tried not to talk to others, but Hero and Hunted always checked in on him at least once, to make sure that he ate something. Opportunist would've ignored them, but he knew that they would make a scene about it otherwise, so he pulled together a shoddy mask and accepted the food, only taking a bite or two. He didn't deserve their kindness.

He spent his days curled up in his bed. The first few days, Opportunist cried his heart out, harder than he's ever cried before. Then, his brain went wild with thinking of ways to beg for Skeptic's forgiveness, because Skeptic was always right, and Opportunist wanted to prove that he did still love him, that he wouldn't push Skeptic again.

But now he's just sitting here, withering away. Maybe if he waits long enough, the wickedness within him would die off, and then Skeptic will have a chance to love the real him.

Opportunist wasn't sure how much time had passed- his head was too busy replaying that day and remembering every kiss and embrace they shared up until the fight, questioning if any of it was real or salvageable.

He was useless.

He deceived his partner without even realising it.

Did he even deserve love-

Knock knock!

Opportunist sighed, wishing Hunted wouldn't pester him so much about eating. "Go away, Hunted. I'm busy," he mumbled, turning his back to the door, his fingers fiddling with a familiar feather, a shade of black so dark that it shone almost navy blue in the light, but then he heard another knock.

Opportunist wrapped his wings around himself, hugging himself tightly. "I'm not hungry, Hunted."

Knock!

Opportunist sighed in defeat, forcing himself to sit up, glaring at the door, mustering up all the energy he could for a mask that showed that Opportunist was fine and definitely not heartbroken.

Opportunist wrapped his hand around the doorknob. "Hunted, I promise you, if I'm hungry, I will let you-"

He opened the door, but it wasn't Hunted standing before him.

"-know," was all Opportunist could think to say, as he stared up at the disheveled and grieving face of Skeptic.

Opportunist looked up into those eyes, and he felt his breath being taken away.

Skeptic blinked, before a pained look crossed his face, and he whispered, "Oppy."

"Skeptic," Opportunist whispered back, gripping the doorknob tight.

Opportunist knew how to act around everyone. Everyone except Skeptic, so he had no idea what to do now.

"Can I come in, Oppy?" Skeptic softly asked, and he figured it wouldn't do Opportunist any good to deny him right now, so he silently walked away, letting Skeptic make himself at home.

He heard Skeptic let a sigh of relief out, coming in and closing the door behind him.

Then they stood there, staring at each other with such a heaviness in their eyes, and the memories of a fight that destroyed them.

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

That was what was between Skeptic and Opportunist now.

Opportunist didn't dare make the first move, not when Skeptic had been so angry at him before. It was safer to let Skeptic lead right now.

Skeptic took a deep breath in, nervously fidgeting with the feathers on his arms, something that Opportunist has never seen him do before.

"Forgive me for not speaking to you sooner, Oppy," Skeptic began. "I wanted to talk to you as soon as I could, but I wanted to give you some space."

Skeptic then lowered his head awkwardly with a cough and added, "It was also hard to get past Hunted. He guarded your door very well."

Despite the anguish in his heart, Opportunist's lips twitched, as if wanting to smile but afraid to.

"But then I heard that nobody's seen you around lately, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I knew I needed to make things right with you."

"Make things right?" Opportunist echoed with a weak chuckle, waving a hand carelessly through the air. "My friend, you've done nothing wrong."

Opportunist tried not to focus on how his voice cracked at the word 'friend', but he couldn't ignore the way it stabbed his heart.

Opportunist smiled at him, but he saw the way Skeptic's eyes darkened at him, and it felt like Skeptic was piercing through his mask and into his very soul. But Skeptic had never known the real him, so how could he make Opportunist feel this vulnerable?

"I have, Oppy," Skeptic firmly said, "and I understand why you're doing what you're doing. I don't blame you, because I'd hate me too after what I said to you."

"Hate?" Opportunist said. "I don't hate you. How can I hate you when you were just telling the truth?"

Skeptic's eyes widened, and then there was a heavy pause that lasted a second too long, that made Opportunist feel how suffocating the tension between them was.

Opportunist couldn't take it, so he smiled until his face hurt. "You were just pointing out the facts, just like you always do! What's to hate about the truth?"

Opportunist forced himself to take a step forward, pushing his shaking to the side. He put a hand on his chest and said in a sincere tone, "If anything, I should be apologising to you. I shouldn't of gotten involved with your work."

"You were worried about me."

"I kept annoying you when you tried to focus."

"You wanted me to relax and I wouldn't listen to you."

"I overstepped and I-"

"No, I overstepped and I pushed you away-"

"You were right!"

"No I wasn't!"

"I am selfish!" Opportunist yelled, then was immediately appalled at his outburst, but he kept going, in the hopes of making Skeptic understand. He clutched at his chest feathers as he exclaimed, "You were right- all I do is think about myself! I tried to insert myself into your work and I made you angry! You were right, just like always. All I do is think about my own personal gain and nobody else's, so I am deeply sorry, Skeptic."

Skeptic took a deep breath in, then took a step forward, holding his hands out to Opportunist.

His voice was calm, but with a hint of fear in it, as he said, "Oppy, what happened was completely my fault. You don't have to make excuses for me. I was the one in the wrong, and you were the one that was only trying to help me, and I ended up lashing out at you, which wasn't fair."

"You weren't selfish for worrying about me," Skeptic continued, his voice becoming more weak and desperate as he spoke. "You cared about me and brought me food and checked up on me. How is that selfish? The only person who was selfish was me, because I cared more about my stupid work than what my amazing partner was doing for me."

Opportunist's heart ached at 'amazing partner' but he forced himself to forget it. It wasn't real. Those feelings weren't real. It was all a ploy to keep Skeptic close to him.

He shook his head, pushing back tears as hard as he could. "No, it's okay, Skeptic. Y-You don't have to lie about making me feel better."

"I'm not lying!" Skeptic pleaded. He took a step closer to Opportunist, who hugged himself and looked away, but couldn't block out the sadness and guilt in Skeptic's voice as he pleaded, "Oppy, please! I'm so sorry for how I treated you, but I won't stand here and let you convince yourself that you were in the wrong! I was the one who treated you like shit!"

Skeptic reached out, and gently took his hands into his own, and Opportunist hated how nice it felt to hold those hands again.

This close, Opportunist could see Skeptic's eyes shining with tears, as he whispered, "Oppy, I'm so sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve any of it, and you definitely don't deserve to be blaming yourself for my mistakes. You're not selfish, Oppy-"

"Yes, I am," he mumbled in protest, but Skeptic just continued talking, "-and you care so much about me and the flock-"

"No I don't-"

"- and I should've appreciated you more and told you how much I loved you-"

That's when Opportunist snapped.

Loved him?

Opportunist can't love anything else, and nothing can love him.

"No!" he yelled, ripping his hands out of Skeptic's grasp, leaving him floundering, and Opportunist couldn't stop the tears from flowing, sobbing his heart out as he yelled, "You said it yourself! I'm useless! All I care about is myself and my own gain and I made you love me! I manipulated you into falling in love with me just to satisfy my own pathetic loneliness!"

Opportunist broke down then, hugging himself and sobbing loudly. His head was so confused, so torn between wanting to throw himself in Skeptic's arms, and keep far away from him so that Opportunist couldn't hurt him anymore.

But one thing he couldn't do was look away from him, so when he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find the other with tears silently streaming down his face. But the surprising thing was the fact that Skeptic had a steely, determined look in his eyes now, and when they made eye contact, Skeptic's voice was low and firm as he asked, "Is that what you believe? Is that what you think happened between us?"

Opportunist nodded.

Skeptic took a sharp breath in, then said, "Wait here," before marching out of the room.

Opportunist just stood there, having no clue what was happening, other than the fact that his heart yearned for Skeptic's presence again.

Thankfully, it wasn't long that he had to wait, as Skeptic quickly marched back inside, head bowed as he held his- his diary?

Skeptic had kept and written in a diary every day since they became their own people, to help understand his thoughts and the situation around them.

"Skeptic, what are you-" Opportunist tried to speak, but then he gasped as Skeptic fell to his knees, opening his diary up to a certain page and read aloud, "Day forty- Opportunist invited himself to come on a walk with me. Not sure why, but I didn't mind. Talks a lot, but somehow still manages to say absolutely nothing- why is that? Clearly likes talking but isn't saying anything meaningful. Does he just like his own voice? Requires further investigation."

Opportunist had no idea what was going on, and he just stared as Skeptic flipped a few pages over and continued, "Day Fifty- We've all tried to come to terms with this new arrangement and settle within ourselves, but Opportunist is the most interesting case. He keeps complimenting people, offering himself up to be useful, but the others don't trust him. I see the sadness and the fear in his eyes when he thinks no one's looking. Everyone else says he's a good for nothing backstabber, but I don't think so. Will try to get closer to him."

"Skeptic, what is this?" Opportunist quietly asked, but Skeptic's focus was solely on the diary, his voice getting louder and more passionate as he spoke.

"Day Ninety- Opportunist claimed to know a place for peace and quiet, but we quickly got lost in the woods. Opportunist told me that he had everything under control, but this was clearly a lie. He seems to present himself as a very capable person, as if terrified of not being useful."

Skeptic paused to take a deep breath, and his voice wavered as he continued, "But as we kept walking, I kept asking questions, and I realised that Oppy was not who I thought he was at all. He lies because he's scared, but when he's not, he can be-really pleasant to be around. He approaches things differently to me, and I actually quite enjoyed our discussions. I hope to talk to him again soon."

"W-What are you doing?" Opportunist asked. "What are you trying to prove?"

Skeptic wiped a cheek with his palm as he kept reading. "Day one hundred and fifty- I'm not sure what this nervousness in my chest is about, but it only shows up whenever Oppy is around. Oppy is my friend, and the more I learn about him, the more I'm fascinated with him. His ideas, his actions, his smile- there's just something about Oppy that pulls me in and never wants to leave his side. I know he's a scared individual, I know that's why he betrays people. He thinks he's so confident, that he needs to be evil to survive- but I've never met someone with a warmer soul. I-I know what this feeling is now."

Opportunist weeped, shaking his head. "No-No, this isn't true-"

"Day four hundred," Skeptic said, his voice devoid of warmth and passion, sounding empty now. "I've made the greatest mistake of my life."

That was when Opportunist realised what day Skeptic was referring to- the day of the fight.

"I thought if I figured everything out, knew about anything that could hurt him, he'd be safe. But the only thing that ended up hurting him was me."

That was why Skeptic had been working so hard? He had been that worried about something happening to Opportunist?

Looking back on it now, it did seem like Skeptic was looking into all possible threats that could happen to them. At the time, Opportunist thought he was just digging too deep, falling back into bad habits- but Skeptic kept talking about keeping the flock safe, which would include Opportunist as well.

"Why did I say that to him?" Skeptic continued, his bottom lip trembling as he read. "I love him so much. Why would I push him away like that? I should've listened to him, should've spent time with him- it would've been so lovely. But instead I hurt him, and I fear I can't undo the damage I've caused. I only hope I can make sure that he still finds happiness after me."

Finally, Skeptic looked up at Opportunist, and then he broke down crying.

"Oppy, I'm so sorry!" he cried, clutching his diary to his chest, and Opportunist felt himself weep with Skeptic, his whole body shaking with grief.

"Oppy, I'm so sorry for saying that to you! You're not useless! You're not selfish! You're the most caring and kindest person I know! You were always there to try and help me, when leaving me alone would've been so much better for you! You wouldn't stop caring about me!"

Skeptic lowered his head in shame, and then dared to inch closer to Opportunist, and all he wanted was to never let Skeptic go.

"Oppy, my love, you are not a monster. You did not trick me into falling in love with you. I knew who you were from the start, the real you, and that's who I fell in love with."

Opportunist cried, and he saw how much it hurt Skeptic to see him in pain. "How do I know?" Opportunist whispered. "How can I be sure-"

"Take this," Skeptic said, and then thrust his diary towards Opportunist. "You can keep it."

"What? Skeptic, I can't." Skeptic never let anybody touch his diary, and he was just giving it to Opportunist?

"Take it," Skeptic said, pushing the diary into his hands. "All of my thoughts are yours to read. I want you to see how I fell for you, how I still see the real you. If I can't have you as my love again, then I at least want you to not think such horrible things about yourself, not when I deserve them."

Numbly, Opportunist lifted the diary up, unsure of how to feel about all of this, but he found himself cautiously opening the diary to a random page, and he gasped at how many times he caught the words 'Oppy' and 'love' in the same sentences.

Opportunist fell to his knees in front of Skeptic, as the realisation hit him.

Opportunist hadn't deceived Skeptic.

Skeptic knew what he was from the very beginning.

He took a deep breath in, and lifted his head to look at Skeptic, and it felt as if the clouds in his mind were finally starting to evaporate.

He gently put the diary down, and whispered, "I need to do one thing to be sure of something."

"Anything," Skeptic whispered back, so Opportunist gently cupped his face, and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

Immediately, Skeptic sighed into the kiss, but didn't dare touch Opportunist without permission yet, but Opportunist didn't care. All he could focus on was the way his heart was pounding, at how right this felt.

He loved Skeptic. He genuinely fell in love with Skeptic, and Opportunist could never trick his own heart like that.

He pulled back, and looked Skeptic in his regretful, beautiful eyes, and whispered, "I forgive you."

It was as if all the weight escaped from Skeptic then as he sighed in relief, putting his hands on Opportunist's hips. "You do? You really forgive me?"

"I do, love," Opportunist said, tracing his fingers along Skeptic's jawline. "But-But you still hurt me, so you have to earn me back."

"I will," Skeptic said earnest, while nodding his head adorably. "I'll win you back all over again. Everytime."

"I know you will," Opportunist murmured with a smile, then leaned in for another kiss.

They were going to be okay.

[jakeyt]

hi.

i wanted to post this, just so everyone knows where my mind has been/currently resides.

but... as of late, i've just felt very down where my writing is concerned.

so, if i've seemed inconsistent, you are absolutely right. i have been inconsistent, but i've needed to take this space for my own mental wellbeing. there's been a lot of crying and lamenting and deliberating these stories that i've given so much of my heart, soul, endless time, and energy to.

i am working on Covet, Scout's Honor, and a couple other works. and, as i'm speaking on the "other works", i feel it is fair to point out they are never going to be "fanfic", but will instead be directly made into books. and, well... that has been my comfortable zone recently.

the fanfic world has turned a little sad within the past year, so it's just been a little harder to find the motivation to write for my stories.

...especially Covet.

as i've said since it first came to tumblr, Covet is my baby, so when I invest my time and energy into it, it takes a lot out of me. (ask anyone in my life - both personal and online - that i associate with regularly.) and, it's hard to share something that means so (astronomically) much to me, only for me to feel it's not being received as well as it once was. (this is me being blatantly honest, so i apologize for the brutal honesty. however, i do believe it's within my rights as the author of the story to express this feeling i have with this beloved creation of mine...i am sorry to anyone this causes discomfort for, though. <3)

so. i've been sort of keeping Covet held closer to me than usual...it just feels safer in my heart and google drive than on here some days. and not only that, but i've found it a little harder to write it in general. in a day and age where fic writers are feeling less than, or beaten down by certain response, or just leaving in general, it's hard to feel that same excitement when crafting a chapter for release.

all of this to say.

i will be delivering Covet and the second part to Unravel within the month. but, i will probably be taking a momentary break after they are posted - in order to gain some mental clarity to figure out the future for these works of mine.

to all my readers and supporters of my works: I LOVE YOU. thank you to all of you who give feedback, likes, reblogs, etc. - it truly feeds my soul in a way that i'm not able to properly express.

Also. I just want to point out that the ultimate goal is to publish Covet as a five novel series someday, under a different title. If anyone has ever been curious about that.

[zombee04]

The full description for those curious.

Unfortunately I was a fucking excited dumbass and bought the patreon yesterday before scrolling down to see her latest works.

I think one of the things that bugs me the MOST in all of this is the aged up design used is diffrent to the one she has made in the past, this uh 'aged up' design resembling more towards Aliza when she first fell but w b**bs (sorry idk tumblrs censoring system too well), than the adult design SAS posted in 2022. I do have access to the full pic bc again I was the idiot that bought the patreon thing before noticing the uh top posts but here's a comparison of the free to view thumbnail (again even tho I have access to the premium one I dont wanna download it or share it both for personal morals and also idk patrons tos that well and also PERSONAL MORALS)

Left is the.. mmm.... right is the adult design she posted on twitter in 2022. Again this is nit picky but just a personal uhm idk the word it hurts? Feels gross.

Again at this point in time I have no idea what to believe rn and ik I'm just being bias and uh parasocial to the media but I truly truly hope shes not a pdf and is just an idiot that drew it in poor taste as like a self insert type thing but again I DONT THINK SO?? I THINK IM JUST IN DENIAL??? IDK it's horrible it's a nightmare and thank you to those who came out abt it on my behalf, genuinely I don't know how to feel about this

Horrortale has meant so much to me, as it has for so so many other people. The fandom has been so wholesome and I want to send my love to the others that were really attached to this fandom too. It's been such a long going series with alot of original and interesting stuff I just hhhtkhdihskhshahananaaaaaa. I know its an escape for alot of people not just me. Both the cannon and fannon stuff

Althought personally I'm still ripped apart, i think it's fine to still read the comic as long as you don't interact with the material? Idk. It's up to you. I am still personally torn and just really wish this never happened

Anyways I'm still very new to posting on tumblr but if your able to comment under here without it bugging froggo (idk if tumblr let's you do that if you repost or if it goes straight to the original post??) But if if is just like a thing where it's only under my post then feel free to type out your own feelings qnd experiences with the fandom

I wanna thank my friends for being there for me the past 24 hours, it's genuinely meant alot being able to talk about this with others and their patience with my rants about this really really means more than I can say, so uh I wanna pay that fowards I guess, feel free to rant in the replies or anonymously in the asks if you want, I wont post them unless like I have something to add to it ig

Uhm yeah heart goes out to everyone and big thank you to my friends (idk if I should say here or not bc yk but yk who you are) uhm genuinely ik I haven't shown it much but after the irl shit that's happened before this and then discovering this, your support has meant everything to me

Ok I'm rambling bye

Horrortale’s creator caught proshipping

This just in folks, Horrortale’s creator Sour Apple Studios caught not only proshipping BUT making suggestive art of an original character WHO IS A MINOR

June 1st, the pride month before the fall, the patron unveiled this here post featuring not only Aliza’s rear end as front and center but said rear end being on Sans Horrortale’s lap. Thats right, the creator is stepping above and beyond in “what the fuck”age by not only inventing a minor character but making self-described mature art about them.

Using my newfound knowledge of how to DO a read more Ive even included the proof below the read more, it’s also publicly viewable on the website at this point in time and while the way back machine doesn’t seem to be loading the images you can at least confirm the text matches with these disgusting, distasteful screenshots

[igglemouse]

Week 2 ~ Across The Pitch (3.1) ~ Tuesday

My audition victory should have been the brightness of my day, it should have sent me dancing and screaming with joy this morning, but instead I wake with a call from mama and the criticism she has for me.

Checking in, she calls it, but I think we all know its more than that. Mama's love is love expressed through disappointment and most of her morning call is exactly that, a lecture with no purpose other tan to seemingly ruin whatever day I had planned.

"I just don't understand it mija, this whole acting thing. I've always thought you'd grow past it," she tells me, a conversation she's had a thousand times with me, with very little difference.

"And do what, mama? What's so wrong with acting?"

"Must we get into this again?" She acts as if she should be the exhausted one and not me, but at least the conversation shifts into something more normal. The worries of a mother who has a daughter living in another city, if I've done this, if I've done that, that kind of thing. At least its not being scolded for my life decisions.

I'd honestly would rather face these mystical and probably magical gnomes than continue conversating with mama and I have some spring cleaning to do as well. It helps clear my mind and move on from the other parent that helped raised me. She's just...I don't know, she thinks I'm on some path to evil or something. Mama is very very religious and while I understand, truly I do, I'm a believer too personally, but I feel like she is sometimes more against me than for me?

Ah, like I said, I don't want to dwell too much on it. I'll clean, feed little Bruno, and then move on with my day. There's a lot good going on for me!

My little garden also calls to me, promising its own kind of peace along with the aid of the nearly perfect weather. I tend to my flowers with care for just the reason that they deserve it. Nothing more than that.

With it being so nice outside I figured it was also the perfect time to wash clothes and there is some peace to be had there as well. Finally, my thoughts drift from mama to Marco and the moment that we almost shared along with the moment we did share. A rooftop, a hot tub, and the beautiful city of DSV below us, what could have been...what still could be.

The fantasy of that gave me more warmth than the sun...

As far as my diet I've been pretty disciplined. Strawberry kiwi salad has become a go to of mines since it is both nutritous and pretty tasty. The fact is, appearances matter in this industry. You can argue that they shouldn't, that talent is what wins out, but it doesn't. It's unfair, the demands of the business, but they are demands all the same, and so eating healthy and staying in shape is a must.

Maintaining my look is part of maintaining my craft.

Bruno meanwhile has nothing to maintain other than his joy and the energy he brings. Must be nice being a dog, such a carefree life, I would think, such simplicity! Eat, sleep, love, and play, then repeat! I do, for a moment, envy that, but I've read that pressure is a privilege and so I do not mean to back down from it!

And I am ready to handle whatever the industry throws at me and my next assignment is a pharmaceutical commercial. I'll be playing the role of a funny doctor, at least for a few seconds, as that is all that these commercials allow.

Comedy is new to me, I must admit, but it is definitely a skill that could lead to many memorable roles and so to sharpen up on it I try to write my own jokes and just study it a bit. Learning what I can is all that I can do.

A cold front sweeps through the city as evening comes, unexpectedly since it had been so nice and warm earlier in the day. That's fine, at least it came without rain because otherwise my clothes would be wet and soggy and what a disaster that would have been?

And while my day started with a scolding from mama it is my brother who brings some redemption to my family with just how excited he is to be so close to chasing his own dream. He's moved to Windenburg, I think I've mentioned? Far from home but also like me chasing fame. I think he's pretty close to it, the team he plays for has rented him a pretty nice house, by the sounds of it, and it feels like his life too is just starting.

It's funny, the women in my family, my sister and mother, are both unhinged in their own kind of way while the men, my brother and father, have been solid as a rock for me. Oh Watcher, maybe I'm unhinged in my own kind of what but I don't realize it? Let's hope not!

As my day comes to the end Bruno demands just a little more attention. It's bath time, which happens a lot for him since he seems very dedicated to gathering dirt and tracking it all through my little home. I don't mind it, he's only being himself, which is all he can be.

Sometimes, you just have to embrace the mess in life!

Index ~ Next

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @i-doutt-it @beth-isnt-home @darylandbethfanforever9 @brianna-merlim @pumpkinkpieandtomato @smashleywow @imadisneyprincessiswear @clementineslawyer @pandaofsilentdeath @dixonsbridexx @imadisneyprincessiswear @staley83 @death-in-a-tar0t-card

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TW: cussing, Merle is well ... Merle, angst, walkers (Zombies), Stab wound, tension (but not really cause of who it is lol) Woodbury, the Governor.

Part 6

Between Brothers - Part 7

You'd lost track of the weeks as the walking through Georgia backwoods had taken its toll. Your boots were falling apart, held together now with strips of fabric torn from your shirt. The blisters had turned to calluses, and the soft hands were now rough with dirt and dried blood.

But it was the hunger that was killing you both.

"Come on, sugar," Merle drawled from behind you, his voice rougher than usual. "Put some pep in that step. We ain't got all day to find somewhere to hole up."

You wanted to snap back at him, but you didn't have the energy. The last of your shared granola bars had been eaten two days ago, and your stomach felt like it was eating itself from the inside out.

"I'm going as fast as I can," you mumbled, stumbling slightly over a fallen log.

"Fast as you can ain't fast enough, darlin'." But there was less bite in his words than usual. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice too, though he'd die before admitting it.

Merle had been getting worse over the past few days—more aggressive, like he was trying to distract himself from the gnawing hunger with increasing anger and inappropriate comments. Just this morning he'd made some comment that would have made you blush weeks ago. Now you barely had the energy to roll your eyes.

"There," he said suddenly, pointing through the trees with his knife-hand. "House up ahead, sweetheart. Maybe we'll get lucky."

The house looked like it had been abandoned long before the world went to shit. Paint peeled from its wooden siding, and the front porch sagged under the weight of neglect. But it was shelter, and right now that was all that mattered.

"Stay behind me, lil doe," Merle muttered, raising his makeshift weapon. The knife he'd jerry-rigged to his stump caught the mid-morning sunlight, its blade worn but still sharp.

The front door creaked open at his touch, and you both froze, listening. Nothing. Just the sound of wind through broken windows and the distant call of birds.

Inside, the house was a time capsule abandoned long before the world turned to hell. Faded photographs on the mantle, furniture that had seen better decades, and the lingering smell of old cigarettes and neglect. But it was empty of both the living and the dead, which made it paradise as far as you were concerned.

"Check the kitchen, sugar," Merle instructed, already heading toward what looked like a bedroom. "See if there's anything worth eating."

You made your way to the small kitchen, hope fluttering weakly in your chest. The cabinets were mostly bare, but in the very back of one dusty shelf, your fingers closed around something that made you want to cry with relief.

"Merle!" you called out, your voice cracking with excitement. "I found something!"

He appeared in the doorway instantly, eyebrows raised. "What'd you find, darlin'?"

You held up two small cans like they were made of solid gold. "Sardines."

"Well, I'll be goddamned." His grin was the first genuine one you'd seen in days. "Fancy little fish for my fancy little doe. How fitting."

You were too hungry to care about his teasing. Your hands shook as you worked to open the cans, the small silver fish inside looking like the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"Easy there, sweetheart," Merle said, settling down beside you on the dusty floor. "Don't want to cut yourself in your excitement."

You managed to get the cans open and immediately shoved one of the tiny fish in your mouth, nearly moaning at the taste of salt and oil on your tongue. It was disgusting and wonderful at the same time.

"Save some for me, sugar tits," Merle chuckled, but there was fondness in his voice as he watched you eat.

You forced yourself to slow down, passing the other can to him. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, and for a moment you both just sat there, sharing what might be your last meal.

"This ain't exactly five-star dining, is it, lil doe?" he said after swallowing his can.

"I don't care," you said honestly. "I hate fish and this is still the best thing I've ever tasted."

"That's 'cause you're starving, darlin'. Give you a proper meal and you'd remember what good food tastes like."

"When we find your little brother," you said, surprised by the certainty in your voice, "the first thing I want is a burger. With fries. And a milkshake."

"When we find him," Merle agreed, and something in his tone made you look at him sharply. He was staring at the empty can in his hands, jaw tight with an emotion you couldn't name. "Hell ... I might even make it for you myself."

"We will find him," you said softly.

"Yeah." His voice was rough. "Yeah, we will."

After you'd finished the sardines, Merle stood and brushed the dust off his jeans. "I'm gonna scout around, see if there's any other supplies around this place or maybe the neighbors. You rest up, sweetheart. You look like you're about to fall over."

You wanted to argue, to insist you could help, but the truth was you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached, and the small meal had made you drowsy.

"Don't go far," you said, settling back against the wall.

"Won't be long, sugar. Just gonna check the perimeter, wander to the next farm too, maybe see if there's a garden or something worth salvaging." He paused at the doorway, looking back at you. "You keep that knife handy, you hear? Anything goes wrong, you hide first, fight second."

You nodded, your hand automatically going to the hunting knife he'd given you weeks ago. You'd gotten good with it over the past few weeks—better than you'd ever wanted to be.

"I'll be careful," you promised.

"You better be, lil doe. I'd hate to have to explain to my baby brother that I lost the prettiest angel in Georgia."

Heat crept up your neck at the compliment, even though you knew he was just trying to lighten the mood. "Knock it off"

His chuckle followed him out the door, and then you were alone.

For the first hour, you dozed fitfully, starting at every small sound. The house creaked and settled around you, but it was peaceful.

Safe.

Or so you thought.

You'd just started to really relax when you heard it—footsteps on the front porch.

Your eyes snapped open, hand immediately going to your knife. The footsteps were, deliberate. Not the shambling gait of a walker, but the cautious stride of someone very much alive.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you heard the front doors slam open. Whoever it was, they were inside now, moving through the house with the confidence of someone who knew how to handle themselves.

Panic flooded your system. Merle had been gone for just a little over an hour—there was no way he'd be back this soon, and besides, he would have called out to you.

This was definitely someone else.

You tried to think frantically of somewhere to hide. Behind the couch? The hall closet ? Neither seemed safe enough, and then you remembered—earlier, when you'd been searching the kitchen, you'd noticed something odd. One of the lower cabinets had seemed deeper than it should be, and there had been what looked like a handle or latch inside, in front of a cushion of some sort.

Moving as quietly as possible, you crept back to the kitchen. The footsteps were in the living room now, and you could hear whoever it was moving around, searching for something.

Your hands shook as you opened the cabinet and felt around inside. There—your fingers found a metal handle set into what felt like a small door or hatch. You pulled, and a section of the cabinet floor lifted away, revealing a dark crawlspace beneath the house.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your knife and lowered yourself into the space, pulling the hatch closed behind you just as the footsteps entered the kitchen.

The crawlspace was cramped and dark, barely tall enough for you to crouch. Spider webs caught in your hair, and you could feel things scurrying away from you in the darkness. But you stayed perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

Above you, footsteps moved around the kitchen. You could see slivers of light through the cracks in the floorboards, and occasionally a shadow would pass over them. Whoever was up there was being thorough, opening cabinets, moving things around.

Then you heard a voice—male, rough, with an accent that sounded similar to Merle's but different somehow.

Kinder? maybe ... but you shook the thought away, Merle had been telling you looking for kindness gets you killed.

"Sophia!" the voice called out, frustration clear in the tone. "Sophia, y'in here?"

Sophia. Was that his partner? Or his victim? You pressed yourself further back into the crawlspace, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

The man kept calling out, his voice echoing through the house. "Sophia!"

You could see his feet now through a gap in the floorboards—heavy boots, frayed jeans. He was pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

He spent what felt like hours searching the house, calling out for this Sophia person. You stayed frozen in your hiding spot, muscles cramping, spider webs sticking to your face, too terrified to move. Every time his footsteps passed over your hiding spot, you held your breath, certain he would somehow sense you there.

Finally, mercifully, you heard his footsteps retreat across the porch. But you didn't move. You stayed huddled in that cramped, dark space for what felt like hours, until you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

"Where you at, sugar?"

Merle. You'd never been so happy to hear his voice in your life.

"Lil doe!" His voice was getting more agitated now. "Answer me, darlin'!"

You pushed open the hatch and hauled yourself up out of the crawlspace, gasping as you emerged into the kitchen. Your legs were shaking so badly you could barely stand.

"Here," you called out weakly. "I'm in here."

Merle appeared in the kitchen doorway instantly, and the relief on his face was quickly replaced by concern as he took in your appearance.

"Suuuu, what happened to you? You look like you seen a ghost."

"There was someone here," you said, your voice still shaky. "A man. He was looking around, I hid under the house."

Merle's expression went hard, dangerous. "What kind of man? Any others ?"

"Just one, I think. He had boots, jeans... he was calling out for someone." You dust cobwebs off your arms "I just hid, I was scared."

"Damn right you were scared." Merle moved to the window, peering out through the dirty glass. "Could've been anyone. Raiders, worse." He turned back to you, jaw tight. "We're moving. Now."

"But you just got back—"

"I said now, lil doe." His tone brooked no argument. "Pack up whatever you got. We ain't staying here another minute, I ain't gonna wait for the sonofabitch to come take us out before we can find my baby brother. "

You didn't argue. The fear was still fresh in your mind, the memory of those footsteps above your head, driving home the lessons Merle had been slowly teaching you. Within minutes, you'd gathered your meager possessions and were following Merle out into the gathering dusk.

"We'll find somewhere else to hole up," he said as you walked quickly away from the house. "Somewhere more secure."

You nodded, not trusting your voice. But as you walked, you couldn't help but hope this 'Sophia' was safe.

Two days later, your luck ran out entirely.

You'd found an old barn to sleep in the night before, but it had offered little comfort. Your stomach was cramping with hunger again, and every step felt like walking through quicksand. Merle wasn't doing much better—his face was a little gaunt, his usual crude comments reduced to occasional muttered curses.

You were following what might have once been a deer trail, according to Merle, through thick woods when you heard it—the low, guttural moan that had become the soundtrack of your nightmares.

"Shit," Merle breathed, raising his knife-hand.

They came from three directions at once—walkers, their rotting faces twisted in permanent expressions of hunger. There were four of them, maybe five, and in your weakened state they might as well have been an army.

"Stay behind me!" Merle shouted, but you were already moving.

The weeks of traveling with him had taught you things your sheltered upbringing never could have. You dodged the grasping hands of the first walker, your knife sliding into its eye socket with practiced efficiency. Black blood sprayed across your face, but you didn't flinch anymore.

Merle was fighting two of them at once, his movements still fluid despite his exhaustion. The makeshift knife attached to his stump was a deadly extension of his arm, and he used it with brutal effectiveness.

But there were too many of them, and you were both too weak.

You heard Merle curse viciously behind you and spun around to see him doubled over, his knife-hand pressed to his side. Dark blood was seeping between his fingers.

"Merle!"

"I'm fine!" he snarled, but he clearly wasn't. "Just finish them!"

You threw yourself at the nearest walker with desperate fury, your knife finding its skull just as the crack of gunfire split the air.

The remaining walkers dropped instantly, their heads exploding in sprays of gore. You spun around, expecting to see more threats, but instead found two men emerging from the trees.

One was Hispanic, a bit dangerous-looking with intelligent eyes and a rifle in his hands. The other was older, with grays in his hair and the kind of smile that didn't quite match the hollow look in his eyes. He was dressed better than anyone had a right to be in this world—clean clothes, well-groomed, like he'd stepped out of a magazine ad.

"Well, well," the older man said, his voice southern but cultured and smooth. "Looks like you folks could use some help."

Merle straightened, trying to hide his injury, but the blood seeping through his shirt was obvious. He stepped slightly in front of you, a protective gesture that was both instinctive and possessive.

"We're fine," he growled, his good hand moving to rest on your shoulder, keeping you behind him.

"Martinez," the older man said to his companion, "help our new friend with that wound."

The Hispanic man—Martinez—stepped forward, but Merle raised his knife-hand threateningly, pulling you further behind him.

"I said we're fine. Back off."

"Easy there, friend," the older man replied calmly, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "My name is Philip, but most people call me the Governor. And you are?"

There was something about the way he said it—not a request, but a command wrapped in politeness. Merle seemed to recognize it too, because some of the fight went out of him.

"Merle," he said finally. "Merle Dixon."

The Governor's eyes lit up with interest as he took in Merle's crude demeanor, his makeshift weapon. "Military?" he asked, noting the way Merle held himself despite his injury.

Merle's jaw tightened slightly. "Army. Did my time." He left it at that, not mentioning the dishonorable discharge or what came after. Behind him, you stayed quiet, but he could feel your attention sharpen at this new information about his past.

"I can tell. Takes training to handle yourself like that." The Governor's smile was approving. "What unit?"

"Various deployments." Merle's voice was clipped, clearly not wanting to elaborate. The truth was messier—drugs, dealing, a court martial 8 months in that he'd barely avoided before they kicked him out.

But you didn't need to know about that part of his life.

The Governor nodded, clearly impressed. "And your companion?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but Merle cut you off with a sharp look. "She's with me. That's all you need to know."

The Governor's smile widened, but it still didn't warm his eyes. "Of course. Protective. I like that in a soldier." His gaze shifted between you and Merle, lingering on you a moment too long for your comfort. "Well, Merle Dixon, it seems you're a man who knows how to handle himself in a fight. I respect that. We could use men like you."

"We?" you asked, finding your voice despite Merle's obvious desire to keep you quiet.

"A community. We've built something special—a place where people can be safe, well-fed, protected." The Governor's gaze shifted between you and Merle, but kept returning to you. "Judging by your condition, I'd say you could both use some of that."

"What kind of community?" Merle pressed, his protective instincts warring with his practical need for medical attention and food.

"The kind where people look out for each other. Where families can be safe." The Governor's emphasis on 'families' wasn't lost on either of you. "Where a man can provide for those he cares about."

Merle was wavering, you could see it. The promise of food, safety, medical attention for his wound—it was everything you where in desperate need of. But more than that, the way the Governor spoke about providing, about protecting—it appealed to something deep in Merle's psyche.

"What's the catch?" Merle asked suspiciously, but his tone had already softened.

"No catch. Just good people helping good people. Strong people like yourself keeping weaker ones safe." The Governor nodded to Martinez. "Help him into the truck. Both of them."

"We can manage," Merle started, but the Governor held up a hand.

"I insist. A soldier shouldn't have to suffer when help is available. And your girl there looks like she could use a hot meal and a safe place to sleep."

Something about being called Merle's 'girl' should have bothered you, but the exhaustion and fear made the promise of safety too tempting to argue.

Martinez moved forward again, and this time Merle didn't resist as the man helped support his weight. "Appreciate it," he grunted, and you could see him warming to these strangers despite his earlier hostility.

"Thank you," you added quietly as you scrambled to gather your few possessions, mind racing.

"Think nothing of it, miss," the Governor said, his smile turning warmer—or at least more convincing. "We take care of our own."

A community. Safety. Food. It sounded too good to be true, but right now you were too desperate to care.

"Come on, lil doe," Merle said quietly as Martinez helped him toward a military-style truck parked just out of sight. "Let's see what these folks are all about."

As you climbed into the back of the truck, you caught the Governor watching you with those cold, calculating eyes. Something about his smile made your skin crawl, but Merle was bleeding and you were both starving, and really, what choice did you have?

"You made the right choice," the Governor said, settling into the passenger seat. "Both of you. Woodbury's going to be good for you."

Merle grunted his agreement, already looking more relaxed as the promise of medical attention and regular meals sank in. The Governor's charm was working on him, just as it was designed to.

The truck rumbled to life, carrying you away from the woods and toward whatever waited ahead. You just hoped you weren't trading one kind of danger for another.

-----------------------------------

The drive to Woodbury took about forty minutes, and you spent most of it watching Merle. His face had gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air, and you could see him fighting to stay conscious. The blood on his shirt had spread, a dark stain that made your stomach clench with worry.

He was crass, rude, and had said things that would make a sailor blush, but since the rooftop, he'd been all you had. The only thing standing between you and a world full of teeth and claws. The thought of losing him now, when safety and resources might finally be within reach, made panic rise in your chest.

"Hey," you whispered, leaning closer to him in the truck bed. "You better not die on me, you hear?"

He cracked one eye open and managed a weak smirk. "Takes more than a little poke to put down a Dixon, sugar. Don't you worry."

But you were worrying. You couldn't help it.

When the truck finally rumbled through gates that were taller and more fortified than anything you'd seen since the world went to hell, you felt a mixture of relief and amazement.

Woodbury was... incredible.

Clean streets, actual functioning buildings.

"Welcome home," the Governor said as the truck came to a stop.

Several people immediately approached—a woman in scrubs who was clearly medical personnel and a few men who looked like some kind of makeshift guards or soldiers.

"Let's get him to the infirmary," the doctor said, taking one look at Merle's condition.

"I'm going with him," you said immediately, jumping down from the truck before anyone could stop you.

"Miss, that's not really—" Martinez started.

"I said I'm going with him." Your voice was firmer than you felt, but there was no way you were letting them separate you from Merle. Not now, not when he was hurt and you were in a strange place surrounded by strangers.

-----------------------------------

The Governor stepped in smoothly, that charming smile back in place. "Of course you can go with him. It's natural to want to stay close to family."

You didn't correct his assumption, just nodded gratefully. Maybe you'd misjudged him earlier. His smile seemed genuine now, understanding.

"Thank you," you said, relief flooding through you. "I just... he's all I've had for months. I can't leave him now."

"I understand completely. Martinez, help them to the infirmary."

The infirmary was clean, well-stocked, better equipped than you'd dared to hope. As they helped Merle onto an examination table, he caught your eye and managed another one of his trademark grins.

"What, you gonna hold my hand through this, darlin' ?" he drawled, but there was something almost vulnerable underneath the crude joke. "Afraid I might cry?"

"Shut up, Merle," you said, but you moved closer to the table anyway, your hand finding his good arm.

"Doc better not try anything funny," he continued, his voice getting raspier as the adrenaline wore off. "Girlie here might think less of me if she sees me all laid out and helpless."

It was pure bravado, and you knew it. But his fingers tightened around yours when you squeezed his arm, and that told you everything you needed to know about how he was really feeling.

"You're going to be fine," you told him firmly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

The Governor watched this exchange with interest, that calculating look back in his eyes, but his smile remained warm and reassuring when you glanced his way.

You were already starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, you'd found somewhere safe.

[strangledplanet]

i'm very excited to share with you all that i was published in a magazine!! it's such an honor to be a part of something so cool ♡♡♡ i never imagined anything like this to happen ♡ wow

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[reveryfics]

okay one last little tidbit ... wee bit unrelated... but John Walker with the second marriage trope, plus some fluffy knuckle kisses, plus his son being flower boy. Like do whatever you want with that. 🙏 that's it. that's the ask. TOODLEOO.

Perfect Ceremony

John Walker x Male Reader

Summary: You never imagined marriage for yourself, especially with a past like yours as a super-soldier. Yet, here you were, about to marry the man who meant everything to you. His son and ex-wife liking you too was just the icing on the cake.

A/N: I was so excited to write this, especially after we started talking about it more and more. I'm not incredibly happy with this one, I might end up doing it again in the future or different marriage fics for different characters.

TW: Fluff - Tooth rotting fluff - Marriage - Suggestive end

A life partner, marriage, even a casual relationship — these concepts were utterly foreign to you, almost laughable. They simply didn't compute within the demanding framework of your existence. Your days were a relentless cycle, first dominated by the rigid discipline of the military, and then, without much enthusiasm, by the even more intense demands of the government's super-soldier program. Any emotional entanglement felt like an unbearable weight, an unnecessary complication in a life already teetering on the edge of controlled chaos. Your mothers, bless their persistent hearts, never missed an opportunity to remind you, "You'll change your tune once the right person comes along." You'd typically just offer a noncommittal shrug, already mentally preparing for the next grueling training exercise.

The absolute last person you ever expected to challenge that deeply ingrained conviction was John Walker.

It wasn't as if you harbored any secret admiration for him before, quite the contrary. You'd pegged him as an egotistical asshole, a man more consumed with curating his public image than with genuine human connection or empathy. His swagger, his self-righteous pronouncements – they all grated on your nerves. You certainly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment your disdain began to fracture, to give way to something far more complex and unsettling. Perhaps it was the night he appeared on your doorstep, a shell of his former self, after the dust of his very public divorce had settled. He looked utterly lost, seeking solace not from the throngs of admirers he once commanded, but from you, the one person he believed wouldn't offer judgment.

That night, amidst the wreckage of his shattered reputation, he confessed the true weight of the shield, the impossible expectations, and the moment he'd crossed a line he never thought he would. You, in turn, remembered your own dark moments, the times you’d been pushed to the brink. Looking at him, truly seeing him for the first time, you found yourself offering a quiet, unvarnished truth: "We do things when we're pushed too far by others. It's not because we want to, but because we believe it's the only choice we have left."

For John, that was the precise moment. In your words, devoid of condemnation, he found an unexpected sanctuary. It was then, amidst the shared understanding of desperation and impossible choices, that he realized he was undeniably, irrevocably falling for you. And to your utter shock, a tiny, almost imperceptible shift began within you as well.

Dating John Walker wasn't a sudden, Hollywood-esque romance. It was a slow burn, a gradual unfurling of two lives that were both deeply scarred and remarkably resilient. For you, the idea of a relationship, let alone one with someone as publicly scrutinized as John, still felt alien. And for John, the stakes were even higher. His realization of his bisexuality, sparked by his burgeoning feelings for you, was a seismic shift in his already chaotic world. He was terrified. Terrified that this, on top of everything else, would be the final nail in the coffin of his public image, forever cementing him as the villain in the American narrative. The fear gnawed at him that his ex-wife, Olivia, would weaponize it, severing his already fragile connection with their son, even if deep down he knew Olivia wouldn't be so cruel.

Your early dates were clandestine affairs, hidden from the prying eyes of the media and the relentless judgment of the public. They were quiet evenings spent in your apartment, or long drives to nowhere in particular, just talking. You learned about the weight of the shield from his perspective, the impossible expectations, and the isolation that came with being a symbol rather than a man. He learned about your own battles, the unseen scars of the super-soldier program, and the quiet strength that allowed you to carry on. There were arguments, certainly. Both of you were stubborn, set in your ways, and prone to lashing out when vulnerable. Your past traumas often collided, creating friction, but beneath it all, there was a growing respect, a shared understanding of what it meant to live a life irrevocably altered by service and sacrifice. You didn't always agree, but you always came back to each other, drawn by an invisible thread that neither of you fully understood.

As the months bled into a year, then two, something remarkable began to happen. Your quiet presence in John's life started to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself. With your encouragement, and a newfound sense of self-acceptance, John began to tentatively reconnect with Olivia. You, in turn, found yourself surprisingly at ease with her. She saw the positive influence you had on John, the way you grounded him and brought out a softer side she hadn't seen in years. What started as polite conversations at pick-ups and drop-offs for their son, slowly blossomed into a genuine friendship between you and Olivia. You'd grab coffee, share stories, and even commiserate about John's more exasperating habits. This unexpected alliance paved the way for John to finally mend fences with his son, building a relationship based on honesty and renewed trust, not just the fleeting, supervised visits of the past. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it was real, and it was a testament to the quiet power of your relationship.

Nearly three years into your unconventional, yet undeniably strong, relationship, you were still navigating the daily complexities of your lives. Marriage remained a distant, almost irrelevant concept to you. Your mothers, however, had seemed to possess some secret knowledge. Their knowing smiles, the subtle hints they’d drop, the way they'd look at you and John with an almost prescient understanding – it was all a mystery you couldn't quite decipher.

Then came the day. It wasn't grand or flashy, no public spectacle or dramatic gesture. It was a quiet evening, much like many of your early dates, just the two of you. He didn’t get down on one knee in a typical fashion, instead, he sat beside you, taking your hand in his, his gaze intense and unwavering. With a nervous tremor in his voice, but a profound certainty in his eyes, John proposed. It was a moment that stopped time, a question you had never, in a million years, expected to hear. The word hung in the air, echoing the silent hopes of your mothers, and igniting a whirlwind of emotions you hadn't realized you possessed.

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but your focus was entirely on the reflection staring back at you. You stood between your mothers, a surreal tableau. One, with practiced hands, meticulously adjusted the lapels of your expensive tuxedo, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. The other, with a softer touch, carefully arranged a few stray strands of hair that refused to cooperate. Every now and then, they'd exchange a look, a silent conversation of pride and disbelief that you knew all too well.

You hadn't, in a million years, envisioned this moment. Wearing a custom-tailored tuxedo, feeling the unfamiliar weight of silk against your skin, and peering out the window at a gathering crowd – it was a scene ripped from a life you never thought you'd lead. Down below, familiar faces mingled. Sam Wilson's family had arrived, their laughter carrying faintly on the breeze. There was Olivia, looking poised and elegant, a testament to the unexpected friendship you'd forged. She'd readily agreed to let her son, a whirlwind of youthful energy, be the ring bearer, a decision that warmed you more than you cared to admit.

And then there were the best men. Sam, ever dependable, had accepted the role for you with a knowing grin. For John, Bucky Barnes stood ready, a quiet strength beside him. It felt right, a balanced equation, given you'd stood as best man at their own wedding, witnessing their vows in a ceremony far less traditional than this one promised to be. The shared history, the battles fought and friendships forged, added another layer of significance to the day.

Your mother, the one who'd been fussing with your hair, gently turned your face towards her, her hands cupping your cheeks. Her smile was soft, radiating a warmth that always had the power to disarm you. "Look at my baby boy," she hummed, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes, already glistening, searched yours. "So grown up and getting married." The last words were a whisper, a breathy testament to the overwhelming joy bubbling within her. You offered a genuine smile in return, placing your hands over hers, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected journey that had brought you all to this very moment.

The hushed murmur of conversation died down as the music began to play—a simple, heartfelt melody chosen by your moms. You stood at the back, a nervous knot tightening in your stomach. This wasn't a grand, celebrity affair, no flashing cameras or sprawling guest list. It was just family, the kind you were born into, and the kind you'd forged along the way. That made it even more intimate, and somehow, more daunting.

John was already at the altar, a beacon of calm in his own sharp tuxedo. He stood tall, his gaze fixed on the aisle, a slight smile playing on his lips. As your mothers, one on each side, began to gently guide you forward, every eye in the room turned. You felt a blush creeping up your neck. You were never one for the spotlight, and walking toward someone you loved, under the collective gaze of everyone important in your life, felt incredibly vulnerable. You could feel your mother's comforting squeeze on your arm, a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

When you finally reached John, he reached out, taking your hand in his, a quiet strength flowing between your palms. Your mothers stepped back, settling into the front row with a shared, teary-eyed look of contentment. The officiant, a kind woman who'd become a trusted confidante to both you and John, began the ceremony with words of love, commitment, and the extraordinary journey that had brought you both to this moment.

Then came the rings. There was a slight commotion from the back as John's son, looking adorable in a miniature suit, made his way down the aisle. He held a small, velvet cushion, looking incredibly serious about his important duty. Olivia walked closely behind him, a guiding hand on his back, her smile warm and genuine. The boy, eyes wide with importance, presented the rings with an almost ceremonial flourish, eliciting soft chuckles from the guests. John ruffled his son's hair affectionately, his gratitude evident.

As you exchanged vows, promises whispered from the heart, the world outside the small gathering faded away. It was just you and John, standing before those who mattered most, finally, unequivocally, choosing each other. The simple bands slipped onto your fingers, tangible symbols of a love that had defied expectations, overcome public scrutiny, and found its foundation in shared understanding and unwavering support. It wasn't perfect, you knew that. But it was real, it was earned, and in that moment, it was everything.

The officiant's voice was a warm hum, barely reaching the end of the traditional pronouncement, "You may now kiss your husband," before John acted. He didn't waste a second. With a tenderness that surprised even you, he brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there first. It was a private gesture, a silent promise, before his gaze met yours, full of unadulterated adoration. Then, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both gentle and utterly certain.

The room erupted. Cheers and applause filled the air, a joyous cacophony of support and genuine happiness. You could feel the vibrations of it through the floor. When you and John finally pulled apart, breathless and beaming, Sam Wilson's hands were instantly on your shoulders, shaking you lightly, his face split into a wide, triumphant grin. "Took you long enough!" he shouted over the din, eyes sparkling with mirth. Even Bucky, typically stoic, offered a rare, genuine smile and a firm nod of approval from beside John.

The ceremony transitioned seamlessly into a lively celebration. The small backyard, transformed with string lights and simple decorations, buzzed with conversation and laughter. You watched, a warmth spreading through your chest, as friends and family mingled freely, a testament to the unexpected harmony that had blossomed from your unconventional journey.

As you were chatting with Sam and Bucky, you felt a small tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you saw John's son, his face alight with excitement. Before Olivia could even utter a polite warning, he launched himself forward, surprisingly agile, and landed squarely in your arms. You chuckled, catching him easily, his small arms wrapping tightly around your neck. Olivia, looking a little flustered, quickly followed. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I told him not to jump," she said, though a fond smile played on her lips.

"It's alright, Liv," you replied, giving the boy a squeeze before gently setting him back down. He immediately dashed off to join some other kids. "He's got energy, that's for sure."

Olivia leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Seriously though," she began, a genuine warmth in her eyes, "I just wanted to say... I'm so lucky to have you as a friend. And thank you, truly, for inviting me. For everything."

You smiled, touched by her sincerity. "Hey, the feeling's mutual. Who else am I going to complain to about John when he's being a pain?" You winked, and Olivia laughed, a bright, clear sound.

"Right? We definitely need to get that drink sometime," she agreed, "and talk all the trash we want."

"It's a date," you said, just as a familiar voice chimed in from directly behind you.

"Oh, I see how it is," John feigned a dramatic gasp, his hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. "Already plotting against your new husband, are we? And with my ex-wife, no less! The betrayal!"

You and Olivia burst into laughter, turning to face him. "Relax, Walker," you said, playfully nudging him with your elbow. "It's called quality bonding time. Besides," you added, a mischievous twinkle in your eye, "you know you're always worth talking about."

John grinned, a genuine, easy smile that erased all traces of the burdened man he once was. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and then extended his free hand to Olivia, a silent acknowledgment of the new, healthy dynamic between them. "Just remember who signed up for a lifetime of dealing with me," he said to you, his gaze full of playful affection.

"Oh, trust me," you retorted, leaning into his embrace, "I'm counting on it."

The house was finally quiet, the last echoes of laughter and conversation having faded with the departure of your guests. The string lights outside, now mere pinpricks of warm gold against the deepening twilight, were the only remnants of the joyous celebration. You and John lay in bed, the comfortable silence a stark contrast to the earlier cacophony. Your gaze drifted to the simple silver band on your left hand, a twin to the one on his. It wasn't fancy, no diamonds or intricate designs, but its understated elegance held more meaning than any opulent jewel ever could. It was a tangible symbol of everything you'd found in him, and in yourselves.

John stirred, rolling onto his side to face you. His hand reached for yours, gently pulling it closer. Just like at the altar, he brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. A quiet chuckle escaped you, and you turned onto your side to fully face him, the moonlight casting soft shadows across his features.

"Today was... something else," you murmured, tracing the line of his jaw.

"It was perfect," John corrected, his voice a low rumble. "Better than I ever imagined." He shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on your hip. "And you, Mr. Walker, looked absolutely breathtaking."

You snorted softly. "Mr. Walker? Still getting used to that. Sounds more like you, honestly."

He chuckled, already inching closer, his body heat a comforting presence against yours. "Oh, no. It definitely suits you. Mr. Walker," he murmured again, the words a playful caress as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He peppered soft kisses along your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Has a certain ring to it, don't you think? Better than it ever did on me." Each word was punctuated by another kiss, moving up your jawline towards your ear.

You shivered slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Nice try, Walker," you whispered, your hand finding its way into his hair. "But no amount of flirting, or stroking my ego, is going to change the fact that you're not topping tonight."

John let out an exaggerated gasp, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide with mock offense. Before he could utter a protest, you used the leverage of your position, a practiced move honed over years of playful sparring, to flip him onto his back. You were suddenly hovering above him, a victorious smirk on your face.

"Besides," you said, leaning down to capture his lips in a slow, possessive kiss, "it's even better this way."

[erwinsvow]

Here is a bunch of ideas for Robby x shy wife cause your thoughts got mine going

First date: Robby wasn't expecting shy baker to be in an outfit that different from what he's seen you wear at work (pants, basic/band tees, etc) cause he doesn't change that much from work, but then Baker shows up in a dress (fit bodice, flared skirt style), and he loses all train of thought.

First big gift exchange: I'm thinking either his birthday or winter holiday, and turns out Baker is also very crafty and crochet/knit/woven/sewed a big homemade blanket for Robby. (FYI I can crochet an intricate design queen sized blanket in approx. 100hrs, so it's doable). Robby just melt and also be so excited, then feel self conscious that he only got you an expensive baking gadget (kitchenaid mixer, ninja brand equipment, fancy pans). Bonus: Jack staying over at Robby cause snowed in and fully steals the blanket for the night, and attempts most nights afterwards

First fundraising gala: Robby and Baker nearly don't make to the event but he can't keep his hands off you. The champagne is good and plentiful so the shyness leaves and you dance the night away after Robby is done schmoozing. (Maybe Robby has to talk to some Bigwigs so Jack swoops in and dances with you too, while smirking at Robby over your shoulder)

Moving in together: Turns out Robby's bachelor pad and your single apartment wouldn't really fit you moving in together, and maybe there's a house/condo close by Jack with a large kitchen, accessible shower/bath, space for a little garden.

Sex starts off slow, sweet, not too much dirty talk from Robby until he has a rough day where there weren't traumatic deaths, but just bureaucratic bullshit and you offer to be an outlet, and he doesn't hold back as much, and boom the doors wide open for some rougher/kinker sex.

Robby ends up having to work longer because of accidents that rushed in and you had a date planned, so you end up going to the ER to wait for him. Robby lowkey combusts seeing the outfit you picked for this date (stockings, swishy dress,etc) as Jack and Dana hovers around you enjoying the treats from work

Just AAAAAAAA so many thoughts and ideas for Robby x shy wife (plus Jack)

i literally love all of this so much. especially the first date outfit making his head empty because he's used to the apron and the flour on your cheek and your hair tied up away from your face. seeing you all dolled up for him goshhhh. the idea of him getting such a sweet homemade gift is so lovely, especially since reader would be in a way different tax bracket than him lol. and she gets nervous and shy about that as she does and he hugs her really hard and tells her how much he loves it stoppp. omg i loooove gala ideas it's so cute and fun. jack takes you for a spin after you dance with robby and while watching you two from the bar he gets a comment about 'don't let abbot steal your girl away' and he just chuckles and drinks his scotch because if only they knew what abbot was doing to his girl back at home. i looooove the shows up all pretty and dressed up to the emergency room and everyone's eyes are on her which she hates because this was reserved for robby's eyes only and he's so unable to concentrate on the trauma when you're in his line of vision looked so concerned and shy while dana tries to talk to you while he finishes up. gosh i love this thank you for taking the time to write it all out and share!!!! you should write these too i'd love to see your take on them!!!!

[forty-servants-free-readings]

Pick a pile

How will your first shared bath with your future spouse go?

Pick a group to find out, your reading is under the cut. If you're interested in a short, free oracle reading - feel free to send question to my askbox, anon is on. Answers are extremely slow due to demand and busy personal life, from time to time I go on hiatus. There is also paid offer, explained in my pinned post - those readings will be prioritised. If you want to support me there is a PayPal link in my bio.

Pick a pile masterlist

Group 1 - The Contemplator

The two of you will feel rather relaxed in each other's presence already, I don't think this will be too early in relationship to be honest. You will be rather silent, snuggled with each other and contemplating things together. It won't be uncomfortable silence by any means, I mean it more like understanding each other without words.

Group 2 - The Healer

One of you might help to wash the other person due to some sort of injury that probably won't be a serious one but might be temporarily limiting the freedom of movement. Alternatively one of you will be exhausted by work or life in general and the other will offer to wash them as a way to take care of the tired partner and help them rest a bit.

Group 3 - The Conductor

This will all be planned by one of you from the very beginning. They know what they want and they go straight for it. I also see that they will succeed in whatever they planned to do to you (or the other way around if it was you who planned it). Things might and up spicy with the planner as an initiator and they will take on dominant role.

Group 4 - The Devil

I can already tell that it will be rather fast in relationship as the both of you will be very shy. Somebody will pretend to not take a look at the other person but it will be a lie. Unfortunately, they will not overcome their shyness this time around so don't expect anything too exciting to happen, I'm sorry my group 4. The Devil in this deck is all about false limitations one puts on themselves, so I assume if the shy one initiated the partner would be up for their proposition.

[mistermaenad]

Decided I'd share my first experience with one of the gods.

So when I very first joined this religion, I was still very new and uneducated and I had a tendency to get excited and jump into things headfirst without even looking.

At the time I was going by the flame of my candle and using a die (I was very very inexperienced in divination and hadn't even bonded with the tool) and I thought that Hermes had shown up and just asked for a place on my altar, so I made him one.

I was giving near daily offerings, I was fumbling through prayers, until one day it felt like Hermes actually was there, and it felt like he was amused.

Not necessarily laughing at me out of meanness, but the way an adult may laugh at a child who is trying to do something new, you know?

And I knew he was telling me to slow down. "Slow down, do your research. It's wonderful that you're this excited, but you don't know what you're doing." (Not exact words, but that's the overall feeling I got)

I no longer worship him as a 'main' deity, now it's Dionysus, but I'm glad he told me to chill tf out. I was using tiktok of all things as a resource at the time.

[babygirlbenji]

Birds of a Feather - Ben Chilwell

A/N: So this might just be one of my favourite fics I have ever written... she's a big hefty girl at just over 3k words, but it's just super sweet fluff from start to finish.

Warnings: None, fluff, friends to lovers, big confession of love at the end so be sure to stick it through!! Let's get into it eeeek I'm so excited for you guys to read this

'God, you two are just two peas in a pod!'

'What do they say about birds of a feather?'

'Seems you two come as a package deal.'

These remarks, and general reiterations of them, were said regularly to you and Ben throughout your shared childhoods.

Having been born merely two weeks apart, having mums who were best friends, having grown up just a few doors down from each other, it was incredibly rare that you were ever apart. Your personalities were pretty much copy-pasted (though that may have also been a byproduct of spending so much time together), and your senses of humour were so similar that often, you'd end up finishing the joke or saying the punchline of the other person's joke.

Ben moving away to Leicester had no impact on your bond, and him ending up at Chelsea followed by Crystal Palace was even better, as you'd scored a job working in operations at a luxury health club in south west London. As his career progressed and you advanced at your job, one thing stayed constant: the two of you were never far away from each other.

You were there through it all - the Champions League victory, his ACL injury, his low patches, his upset with Chelsea. In turn, he'd supported you through all your trials and tribulations, from being at the end of the phone during your days of struggling through your university course, to helping you through the endless circle of job applications, rejections and interviews after you had graduated. He'd credit you with inspiring him to take the move to Palace, as your new role at work was at a club not 10 minutes from the training grounds, so it was easy for you both to see each other.

But of course, neither of you would risk your friendship to address the unspoken feelings between you. Ben would never want jeopardise nearly 27 years of friendship by admitting that he'd been in love with you since he was about 16, when he saw you at prom wearing a beautiful navy dress with a sparkly bodice (he'd never forget the sight of you, for as long as he lived). Nor would you ever breathe a word of why you could never hold a boyfriend for more than 6 months, because they could see that no matter how much you liked them, it would just never match up to the way you loved Ben. It was just a distraction and a means to an end.

As you settled into your new role and new club, and as he found his feet at Palace, you'd found a comfortable rhythm to life - as best friends. Nothing more.

'Alright Leo, I'm gonna pack up and head off home!' It was finally the end of your week, and you'd had such a hectic day that you could hardly wait to get home and put a film on. As you packed up your laptop and other work bits, your phone buzzed with a text. Fishing it out of your pocket, you saw that it was a text from Ben:

At home, Harv and Tom are coming over for dinner and want to see you, would love to see you too x

A smile graced your lips; you loved spending time with the boys, and this sounded just like what you needed after your day.

You quickly typed out a response:

Would love to!! Just finishing up at the club, will stop by Waitrose and pick up dessert then come to you x

'Who are you texting with that goofy grin?' Leo teased. Your boss was a flamboyant Venezuelan who you just adored. He was one of the few people at work who knew how close you were with Ben; as the place you worked for was in London and very close to both Chelsea and Crystal Palace, you both agreed that it was best that you keep your friendship with him low profile, and that he would probably get hounded if he came to see you at work.

'Oh, just Ben! He's invited me round for dinner and movie with his mates, ideal.' Leo waggled his eyebrows.

'He did? So when are you guys going to go on a date?' You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully.

'Come off it, Leo, we've been best friends basically since birth. He sees me as a sister, he'd never look at me in any other way. It would essentially be incest.' You couldn't help but giggle at your words, but they did have an achingly real truth in them; Ben would just never see you as anything other than a best friend, an unofficial sister.

'Whatever you say, babe,' Leo replied. 'Have a good weekend!' You hugged him goodbye, and made your way out of the club, bidding your colleagues goodbye as you left.

It was a short walk to the Waitrose up the road. You picked up a strawberry trifle and a cheesecake, just so everything had something they liked, before heading to your car and starting the 20 minute drive to Ben's house. Since transferring to Crystal Palace, he'd purchased a modest but beautiful home in Wimbledon. You'd helped him pick it out, and had advised him on things like decor and furniture (he was a typical bloke, and was useless about things like that).

You let yourself in using your key, and dumped your bags in the utility room by the front door.

'Hello, I'm here!' Walking through the large, airy hallway to the kitchen, you found Ben at the oven stirring something in a pot.

'Hey, you, how was your day?' He hurried over and caught you in a brief but tight hug, rubbing your back like he always did.

'It was okay, just glad the week's done now. Are the boys here yet?'

'Nope, they'll be here in about 10, which means you get first pick of the film.'

'Tangled!' Your suggestion made him laugh; Tangled was your favourite movie of all time, and he'd lost count of how many times the two of you had watched it together.

'I love that movie just as much as you do, love, but I'm not sure how keen Harv and Tom would be to watch it.' Ben's smile lit up his whole face, as it often did when you were together. You were one of the few people he could be totally honest and up front with, and it spoke to his comfort around you that he could be his authentic self with you, without fear of judgment.

'They wouldn't know a decent film if it slapped them round the face. Anyway, that's my pick, and we can take their picks once they get here and we can poll the options. Whichever film gets the most votes is the one we watch, and I can put money on it being Tangled!' You were so confident in this, that it made Ben laugh more.

'You're funny. Would you grab me a colander, please? Just need to drain the pasta.'

'Sure.' You got up from your seat at the island and went over to where the kitchen supplies were, grabbing the colander and giving it to him.

'Thank you, sous chef,' he chuckled.

'What else can I do to help, chef?'

'Just sit there and look pretty.' This easy banter, this semi-flirting, was commonplace in your interactions with Ben. You'd always hoped that it meant something, but you knew the potential consequences if you were off in your assumption that his feelings for you went further than friendship, so you never took it further than banter.

You retook your seat at the island, and caught Ben up with the gossip at work. He listened intently, offering exactly the right reaction to each part of the story. Hearing about the crazy instances that took place at your work was one of his favourite pastimes - being in a customer service role, based in Clapham, you had plenty of stories to keep him entertained. Everything from rude members to having to call the emergency services, he had heard it all, and he listened to each and every story with unmatched interest.

The doorbell rang a few moments later, and you went to answer it as Ben was still preparing the last of dinner.

'Y/N!' Tom cheered as he and Harv barrelled into the house. You were suddenly caught up in a three-person hug, not knowing whose arm was whose.

'Hey, guys, so good to see you!' You laughed. Being best friends with Ben as long as you had meant that Harv and Tom were also your best friends, and you couldn't wish for a better group of people to hang out with.

Tom and Harv followed you into the kitchen, and the four of you settled into easy conversation and banter. You felt a distinct sense of belonging, as you sipped your wine and enjoyed the company.

'Right!' Ben clapped his hands together. 'Dinner is served, we'll sit at the table, should all be set up.' Ben had made his signature chicken alfredo, complete with a leafy salad and garlic baguette. It made you think back to coming home from uni at weekends, and if he was home for an evening, he would make this same dish for you. It was probably your favourite that he made, but everything he made was delicious. He was definitely the cook out of the two of you.

'Looks amazing, Ben, thank you for cooking.' You sat down and helped yourself to some salad and a couple of pieces of garlic bread.

'So, Y/N, how's work? Had to call the police again recently?' Harv asked. His question made you laugh; the last time you had hung out, you had had to call the police to your place of work, and since then, it had become a running theme of conversations of which emergency service you'd had to call.

'Luckily, no, not since our last update! Although we did have to ring the non-emergency medical line for someone the other day.' And you launched into the story of how someone had rolled over on their ankle, and they weren't sure whether it was broken so you called the non-emergency line to get their opinion. They took themselves off to the nearest A&E, and were luckily okay.

'Your work sounds insane sometimes, I don't know how you deal with those uppity members. If I were a member there, I'd be the nicest person ever,' Tom said earnestly.

'Thank god, I get enough grief from you outside the workplace,' you clapped back, making Ben laugh. 'Nah it's okay, most of the members there are nice. It's the ones who are rude one day, and then turn up the next day and act all sweet and sugary. They're the ones you really need to watch out for. Harv, how's things with you?'

Harv shrugged.

'Not bad, just same old.' Harv's updates weren't major, still at his job and enjoying getting to know the girl he was speaking to. Tom's life was similarly uneventful - looking for a job in media, going steady with his girlfriend who was abroad on a hen do.

As dinner progressed and dessert was consumed, you felt yourself getting slightly more tired. You were excited to curl up on the sofa and watch a movie, and just switch off your brain for a few hours.

You got up and stretched. 'I'm going to pop to the bathroom before we start our movie, alright boys?' Ben looked up and smiled at you.

'No worries, love, we'll be in the snug.' Both of you missed the pointed look that Harv and Tom gave each other.

While you were in the bathroom, you quickly checked your phone to see if you had any messages from work before you switched off your emails for the weekend. There was one that needed your sign off for something, which you gave, and you then turned off your emails. Anything that came in now could wait until Monday; for now, you were in rest mode.

You finished your business, and on your way into the snug, you stopped off at the kitchen to refill your water bottle. As you did so, however, you heard hushed voices from the snug.

There was a slight air of trepidation as you padded silently over to the door to the snug, wanting to know what the boys were talking about.

'So when are you going to ask her out, bro?' That was Harv's voice. It had a sense of excitement about it, as if he couldn't wait to hear what Ben's answer was.

'I don't know, I kinda don't want to ruin what we have, you know? We've been best friends for, what, 27 years? I don't want to ruin that. She's clearly happy with where we are, I don't want to put her in an uncomfortable position if she doesn't feel the same way.' Ben's voice. Were they talking about... about you? There was no way. Ben felt the same way about you? After all these years of hoping and pining after him? Your heart was pounding so hard that you were worried that they could hear it. It felt like you'd just run a marathon.

'She clearly feels the same way. The way she looks at you, the way she laughs when you make a stupid joke... just do it, dude.' Tom was always the voice of reason in your friend group, and you wanted to shout, scream that he was right, you did feel the same way.

'You guys are seriously crazy, but if you say so. I really like her, I just don't want to ruin anything.'

There was a sound of rustling, as if someone had got up from the sofa. You careered away from the door, not wanting them to know that you had heard, and busied yourself with your water bottle.

'You ready, Y/N?' Ben appeared at the door, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Knowing what you knew, and the fact that he didn't know that you knew... It gave you an odd sense of excitement. It didn't help that he looked so devastatingly handsome, dressed in black joggers and a faded grey hoodie. So simple but he looked so cosy, it made you just want to bundle yourself up in his arms and never leave. His hair was fluffy and that little bit of stubble across his chin was just... perfect. He was perfect.

'Yeah, yeah I'm ready, just coming in now.' He stepped out and made his way over to you.

'You ok? You seem a bit distracted.' His words, and how genuinely concerned he seemed, made your heart swell. So, too, did the way he gently rubbed your arms and looked directly at you.

'I'm absolutely fine, Benji, don't you worry,' you whispered. He smiled gently, and brought you into his arms for a hug. Your head was against his chest, just under his chin. You sighed contentedly, but couldn't help but wish that this hug meant more than it did. 'Love you, Benj.' Your voice was slightly muffled against his hoodie. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

'Love you longtime.' The words you often signed off each call, each FaceTime, each hangout with. They had rung true since the moment you first spoke them to each other, just as friends, but now... dare he think that they meant more? With you curled up in his arms, feeling so like you were exactly where you belonged, Ben decided to take the biggest risk of his life. 'Y/N, I need you to look at me when I tell you this.' You broke apart from his embrace, confused. 'As in, like, I really love you. Like I've loved you since we were 16, when I saw you in that puffy gown at prom. I've loved you at every movie night, every win, every loss, every transfer, every laugh, every heartbreak since then. And I know it's a massive risk telling you this, as I could be jeopardising our entire two decade long friendship, but I couldn't spend another day not telling you how I feel. If you don't feel the same, it's okay, and if you never want to see me again, I understand, I just...'

And then you kissed him. It felt like the only reasonable thing to do. You kissed him as if your life depended on it. You kissed him in a way that made you feel like you were going to run out of air, but it was so addictive that you didn't care. Not one bit. And he kissed you back, a small smile on his lips as he did so. It was 27 years worth of kisses, packed into one. It was the best first kiss of your life.

'I love you too, Benjamin. I just hate that it took so long for us to say it like that.' He chuckled and used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that you didn't even realise was falling down your cheek.

'We've got the rest of our lives to say it. Might as well start now.' You giggled through your tears. How lucky were you to call this gorgeous man yours?

A chorus of cheers coming from the snug room broke off your magical moment. You had completely forgotten that Harv and Tom were even in the building.

'Yes Chilly!'

'About time, Chill!' You started to giggle delightedly, Ben bundling you back into his arms.

'Does this mean I get to pick the movie?' You asked cheekily, although your giggles turned to squeals as Ben started to tickle you. 'Oi! If I've been upgraded to girlfriend after 27 years, I'd expect the girlfriend privileges to start right from the off!' You continued to giggle and squeal as Ben tickled you relentlessly. Your arms found their way around Ben's neck and he pulled you in again for a sweet kiss, both of you grinning at each other in between kisses. In that moment, you'd never felt so loved, so cherished in your life. You knew right then and there that this was the man you would meet at the end of the aisle, the man you would one day welcome kids into the world with, the man you would grow old with.

As you and the boys settled into the sofa, you and Ben snuggled up together like two birds of a feather, you whipped out your phone to check your messages one last time. As you did so, a notification popped up:

Harv's Phone would like to AirDrop you a photo. Accept?

You clicked accept, and your heart instantly melted when you saw that it was a photo of you and Ben in the kitchen, big grins on both of your faces as you held each other. It was the sweetest photo anyone had ever taken of you, and you instantly set it as your new wallpaper.

An idea popped into your mind, and you went to message Leo. Attaching the photo to a message, you simply texted him:

So when you asked about Ben asking me out on a date...

You sent it, and he immediately responded with:

OMG!!!! So happy for you babe, that man will love you for the rest of your life. Xx

And you had absolutely zero doubt in your head that no truer words had ever been spoken.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🌸 !!CHAPTER TWELVE POSTED!! 🌸

Title: Four Walls

Tags: Slow burn, domesticity, friends to lovers, smut, pining post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

[radio-4-is-static]

The last song that was written, the last lyrics that were written was (for) the song “Hooked.” It starts off with the line, “I’ve got the fear / I’ve got the human fear.” And I realize that so many of the songs had an underlying theme of fear to them. But not necessarily succumbing to fear, but more like overcoming fear. “The Doctor” is about the fear of leaving an institution, and “Bar Lonely” is the fear of leaving a relationship. “Night or Day” is the fear of committing to a relationship. But fear is fascinating because fear is universal. We all experience fear. We all experience the same fears. But how we respond to it is individual. And that’s how we find who we are, our personalities. And overcoming fear feels good. That’s why we watch horror films or ride rollercoasters — because you overcome fear and then feel very alive for having done so.

– Alex Kapranos on the story behind Franz Ferdinand's latest album The Human Fear for AP

[sparxyv]

WIP tag game!

thank you @myokk , @syaolaurant and @simpforblindguy for tagging me! i have so many WIPs anyways so this is perfect for me LOL

starting out strong with amit 🙏🙏

this one has been in the works for SO long hahah.. i'm finally working on it

SUPER rough draft right here but i thought it'd be funny to show how messy the sketches i start with are 💀!

no pressure tags (so sorry if anyone i tag has already done this 😅): @dom1re @choccy-milky @the-ozzie @trappezoider @4ever2000lover @keri-mcberry @dwightschrute11 @iatnen

[sainz100]

2024 Hungarian GP | x (edited)