#it just automatically happens. it can't be any other way

[truuskn]

he's so cute and sillyyy 😫 my goood, look at him, just look at him!! how do we even have the nerve to pump his life with angst? my dude deserves to be happy 24/7

[boyapologist]

hiiii. so. I'm no longer going to rio

[devils-yui]

Reposting this from a friend bc I think it is VERY important to know of this, and for immigrants, and other possible victims of the ICE Raids happening right now

Here’s to also a very huge edit, from the list of very helpful people who have been reblogging and providing more info.

I’m not as well informed but I will be relaying the information and tagging each person who added onto this post:

@onthedriftinthetardis -

The phone number in the first photo is ONLY for Orange County, California!

Look up your local ACLU affiliate here

@6feetunderwater -

It always makes me nervous to see a reporting phone number passed around without any links to verify it, so the number in the first pic can be found on the site for the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which is "an interconnected system of non-profit and grassroots organizations, civil rights attorneys, law school clinics, and individuals working together to respond to dehumanizing immigration enforcement activities and policies in Orange County"

@geekerypeekery -

The second warrant is not fake, but is an administrative rather than judicial warrant, and has no constitutional authority to bypass Fourth Amendment protections - in other words, it does not entitle the bearer to enter and search your home. It simply authorizes agents of the issuing department to contact you. Always ask to see the warrant before opening your door!

In addition to the ACLU links, try contacting the National Immigration Law Center https://www.nilc.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Warrants-Subpoenas-Facts.pdf

@american-anger -

The phone number listed here is specific to Orange County in California, but you can look up other California counties here:

CALIFORNIA RAPID RESPONSE NETWORKS

@beaniebaneenie -

Unpleasant reminder: within 100 miles of the border (which is home to 200 million people and virtually all major cities in the US), ICE does not need a warrant to enter your home, your car, to search anything, or even to arrest you.

You are not automatically safe just because they don't have a real warrant.

The best and safest thing you can do is learn to have escape routes- quick ways to get out of the house or area you're in if you find out ICE or CBP are around. Those of us who do have documentation? Time for us to step the fuck up.

Film any interaction. Every interaction. If you're able, step into the conversation and be a Karen/Kyle- weaponize your privilege for Good. If you get asked about people? Use positive but vague statements so you a) cannot be caught in a lie, and b) do not give any information away.

"I don't know them that well, but I don't tend to socialize much. They seem great to me."

"I can't remember the last time I saw them."

"Maybe they speak another language, I can't remember details. But I picked up Duolingo during the pandemic and tons of other people did too."

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Even if you're somewhere the 100-mile Exception doesn't apply and a warrant is in fact needed? I don't expect ICE and CBP to play by the rules for long, if at all. I fully expect this to get ugly, and fast.

Cheeto has already declared an emergency of national security at the border, and is mobilizing the military to have jurisdiction over a huge swath of the country. It's essentially tantamount to martial law. And it's only been four days.

Gear up for a long, hard fight. This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.

— I am leaving all of this as an edit because on the off chance someone does find the posts that have these people specifically reblogging, I don’t want it to be too late. So I’m comprising it all here

Here are a few other people’s reblogs I thought were important:

Thank you @onthedriftinthetardis @6feetunderwater @geekerypeekery @american-anger @beaniebaneenie @bunnychiffon @dubiouslynamed @trisockatops @witchy-disaster for contributing and helping me make this a more well-informed post. Thank you so much

[abbotsanatomy]

heyyyyyyyyyyyyy are requests open by any chance 🥹 if yes i would love love love a chef!reader x jack and it’s a regular occurrence for her to visit and drop off food BUT but one day she comes in and she’s like i may have sliced something……. THANK YOU you’re my fave blog rn this jack hyperfixation needs to leave my body or else i’ll go crazy💋

⨳ TODAY'S SPECIAL

pairing: jack abbot x chef!reader warnings: depiction of injury and surgical procedure, intentional medical inaccuracies (for the plot :p). not beta'd! author's note: such a fun idea! so honored to be feeding the jack abbot craze

On today's dinner menu was supposed to be roasted rack of lamb, smothered in a rosemary-infused butter, with garlicky oven-baked potatoes. Key word: supposed.

Your carefully curated ritual of making dinner for Jack and bringing it to his work was interrupted by you accidentally slicing your thumb half off. It's what you get for not sharpening your knives when they needed to be sharpened, last week.

Now, you're on the way to the ER for an entirely different reason. You've got your good hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your leg, with a towel that smells faintly of garlic wrapped around your injury. It only hurts a little, for now. You're sure that'll change when the adrenaline of it all wears off. Or at least that's what you've heard.

You're hoping you can get there and be administered some kind of pain-killer before that pain sets in. Morbidly, the rest of your thumb's in a plastic baggie, that's in another plastic baggie filled with ice, because that's what google told you to do. And in the absence of your doctor boyfriend, you listen to google.

Obviously, you use the back emergency entrance, like Jack's instructed you to do, if you ever happened to find yourself in need of actual medical assistance. You'd fought him on the principle, claiming the whole thing stinks of favoritism and some kind of medical malpractice. Now, with the pain slowly tingling up your entire arm, you can't find it in yourself to care.

The glass doors of the ER open automatically, as you walk in with a chunk of your left thumb in your right hand. You're escorted by one of the EMTs who was standing outside when you drove by. You'd seen her around a handful of times.

“Yeah, so I was making dinner for myself and my boyfriend. You know him,” you pause, as she takes the plastic bag from your hand and nods.

“It just sliced in half. It's partially my fault. I forgot to sharpen my cooking knives,” you go on, as she finds you a place to sit and calls a nurse to grab Jack.

She smiled empathetically at you, “Don't worry. We'll get you taken care of. Dr.Abbot should be here any minute. Just keep your hand elevated for me.”

Although you're about 99 percent sure the nurse walking in behind Jack already told him exactly what's going on, he still looks incredibly shocked to see you sitting there.

“Heeey,” you say, trying to wave the injured hand instinctively.

You quickly realize how bad of an idea that was, though, “Oh, ow. Ow.”

He gives you a once-over, and then quickly instructs the nurse to grab something. Presumably, hopefully, some pain meds. You realize you assumed correct, when she comes back with a few pills and a cup of water.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and swallow the pills in one go with the water.

Jack's just standing there, watching you. When you put the paper cup down onto the side table, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. It's almost like he's putting off looking at your wound, even though he probably knows it's inevitable.

“I had such a great dinner planned. You have no idea,” you boast.

It makes Jack crack a smile, as he walks over to wash his hands. He takes a seat in front of you, and then looks at the rag on your finger expectantly.

“Come on. Let's take a look,” he begins, pulling the towel off, “I heard you kept the rest of it in ice. Good thinking.”

You nod, smiling to yourself at the praise, “Mhm, I know right? Didn't even panic or anything.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he affirms, still inspecting the injury.

In that moment, John Shen pops his head into the room.

“Woah, hey. What's Gordon here in for?” he asks Jack.

The nickname makes you roll your eyes. You really don't even like Gordon Ramsay.

“Sliced my thumb. Unfortunately,” you sigh.

You can't help but ask the one question on your mind right now, “Think you can reattach it?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out, sweetheart.”

You all wait with bated breath. Chopping things up could become infinitely more difficult with half a thumb.

“Yup. Found a vein for anastomoses. We can proceed with replantation,” Jack announces.

“Perfect,” Shen adds, and then leaves the room.

You let out a long sigh, “Oh thank god! I've never been more nervous in my life, I think.”

Jack leans in to kiss the side of your face, “Yeah, I could tell. You have absolutely no confidence in me.”

“No! That's not it. Not at all. You try almost losing your thumb!” you defend.

He grins at you with a tilt of his head. Then he looks down at his prosthetic, and back up at you. His expressions reads, ‘Really?’

You grimace, “Yeah, alright. You win this one.”

Jack makes quick work out of gathering everything he needs and disinfecting your wound. He starts the reattachment process, after giving you a numbing shot that makes you feel nothing from your shoulder downward.

You don't really understand what's going on, but Jack tries to explain as he's going. Frankly, you're too busy intently watching his hands work and admiring how incredibly sexy the surgical loupes he's wearing make him look. It should be criminal for him to look that good, while reattaching your thumb.

“This, right here, might be the hottest you've ever been,” you blurt out.

It makes him pause for a moment. Not in shock, just contemplation.

“Wow. Really?” he questions, the soft curve of his brows furrowed in disbelief.

You can't help but giggle at his tone. Maybe it's the antibiotics making you a little loopy, but how he's looking at you is also incredibly funny.

“I mean, yeah,” you reason, “Sure, sex with you is great, but this might be better.”

Jack just smiles and gets back to work. Mostly because he knows it isn't true; nothing tops the sex you have together. That shit's spiritual. But also, because he doesn't fully get it. He's never understood the appeal that apparently comes with being in scrubs.

Although he's deciding to back down, you need a clean-cut victory. You want him to actually understand.

“Hey, it's totally like when you spend an hour staring at my ass while I make dinner. It's mostly just that, but it's also you appreciating my cooking and how well I do my job,” you explain. “It's attractive!”

“Yeah. Sure, I can see it,” he concedes. It's a win you'll take.

There's a long pause. Just the sounds of the surgical tools in his hands filling the space between you. He's busy taking care of your finger, obviously, but you can also tell he's pondering what you just said.

“You like taking care of people,” is all Jack comes up with. You're more than able to fill in the rest, though.

“It's what I love about you.”

He doesn't need to say it. The words are buried in his tone, in the reverence in his eyes, in the gentleness of his touch on your arm, even though he knows you can't even feel it right now.

So, you nod, and come up with one of your own, “And you are immune to panic. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say you haven't experienced a day of dread in your life.”

That earns you another smile. It takes him five minutes to come up with another thing to say.

The procedure takes much longer than you'd previously expected. Neither you nor Jack were too bothered by that. Anyone passing by with snacks or words of encouragement definitely found how you and Jack went back and forth, subtly trying to one-up each other with your compliments, incredibly cheesy.

The hours you spent in the ER recliner, with Jack hunched over your hand, meticulously gluing you back together, were a love letter to your long-lasting relationship. One you'll cherish for as long as you still have the tip of your left thumb attached to your hand.

[astrolook]

🌟📅 Astrology Observations 🌟📅

Note: This post fits both Western and Vedic system. Take what resonates and leave the rest. One placement or aspect cannot say much and the whole chart has to be analyzed to know further. Lemme know in the comments if any of these hit home!

People with 8th lord in the 2nd house talk in a way that they withhold certain parts of the information to add mystery and that's what attracts people towards them. If you ask a normal person about a horror movie they watched, they would be like, "Yeah, that was good. The actress who played that role was terrific" or something like that. If you ask someone with 8th lord in 2nd house, they be like, "Damn! you know what, there is a scene where the child just stares at her mother in confusion and I felt something inside me and I can relate to that, you know? I can't describe that in words." or something to that extent is the kind of answer you would get from these people. They use words like "can't describe or express in words" at times.

People with the 8th lord in the 5th can't keep a secret. The 5th house is the digestive system. They can't digest things and would definitely share them with others, either intentionally or in a casual flow of speech.

People with the 8th lord in the 3rd house gossip a lot, especially about their friends, neighbors, siblings, etc. They would pick on your flaws and would tell your secrets to others who don't know you in person.

People with Sun in the 12th seem to be energetic in the evening than in the morning. I've seen in cases where these natives hate the Sun and are drawn to the moonlight. They shine brighter during the evening, and their mind become as fresh as a freshly-picked apple during nighttime. Most of their ideas (the good ones) happens to hit them during the 6pm - 6am timeframe. Can be hypochondriacs as well. These natives are the ones to Google symptoms which always end in cancer or death. Also, these natives browse on incognito mode.

Darakaraka is the lowest degree in your birth chart which is used for marriage predictions, and you all know that already. Since it has the lowest degree in your chart, it's the planet (along with where it's placed) that has the least effect on your life, until marriage, since you hide/ ignore/ reject these parts of yourself. That's the reason DK is the kind of spouse you attract, since you don't seem to face that part of yourself. You spouse will embody the qualities you rejected/hid/ignored in yourself.

You can be married already and still not resonate with your DK planet, 7th house/lord, any spouse-related things. The thing is, astrology shows the "destined one" for you. You can be married and divorced 3 times and still not resonate with it. Why? It shows that you haven't chosen the one the Universe picked for you. Let's say you are divorced twice and married the third time. This time, everything spouse-related in your chart points to the person you are married to, and yes, that's the "destined one" for you.

Saturn as Darakaraka generally mean that you and your spouse would be inseparable, doesn't matter if you both fight or are lovey-dovey in your life. Saturn shows long-term commitment and doesn't automatically mean "forever". I've seen in charts of married couples where one of them has Saturn as DK, either they stay through thick and thin forever, or divorce after 15+ years. Saturn as DK would give your married life a minimum guarantee of 15 years and it depends on other positions whether you would be getting a lifetime guarantee or reaching an expiration date soon.

Lilith in 5th house people are prone to attract bad friendships or attract the wrong crowd of people. People tend to project their own issues onto these natives and can attract envy/jealousy from fellow women (if they're a woman too). Their own kind is their enemy and would drag these natives down to the mud. Make them feel like dirt, bully them, etc.

Chiron in 1st house people are usually born through a c-section or their birth involved some complications to their mother.

Chiron in the 7th house people might even be afraid to get married or their parents would have been divorced when they are a teen.

Moon in the 12th house people has sleep issues. Some even become alcoholic to drink away their depression and some might take anti-depressant pills. Master of hiding their feelings and opinions in order to fit in. Either intense attachment to mother or detachment towards mother. Mother might have been divorced or you're the one who would provide financially for the mother. Expenses related to mother.

7th lord in the 6th points towards an enemy to lovers type situation. Alternatively, 6th lord in the 7th is like your spouse is your enemy in your past life and in this life, you made a deal to live with them and that's how it's written in ancient Vedic texts lol. In the former, your spouse might be your biggest enemy or the one who costs you lot of expenses. In the latter, you might feel you're indebted to serve them in this lifetime like spending alot of money on your spouse, taking care of them, etc and having a lot on your plate.

✨🔍Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[steddie-as-they-come]

everybody talks

i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever

It starts with the graffiti.

Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.

STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON

The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.

Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.

The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.

Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.

Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.

He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.

Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.

Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.

He looks down automatically.

There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.

Great.

Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.

As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."

Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.

He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.

The teacher starts class.

He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.

Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.

Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.

Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."

Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.

"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

It's not really a question.

Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."

"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"

Steve reels back. "Huh?"

"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."

"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."

"Oh."

Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.

Wait, that sounds wrong.

They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.

"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.

Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.

Right.

Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.

Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.

"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.

"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."

"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"

Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.

"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"

"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."

"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."

They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.

He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?

"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Eddie says idly.

"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."

Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."

"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."

"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"

"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."

Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.

EDDIE MUNSON FUCKS STEVE HARRINGTON

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so we have like. An unusually high ratio of royalty/nobility among the Jedi. Dooku, Quinlan, Oppo, you can sort of count Adi or Xanatos or Bruck, etc. Lots of Jedi 'just happen' to come from royal, noble, or incredibly wealthy/powerful families.

So from this I want to posit four things:

If a royal family has a Force-Sensitive child, and hasn't had one in generations, they may think that sending that child to the Jedi would be a little like sending a child to join the Catholic Church in the middle ages: you get to influence the political choices of the highest religious power in Europe the Galactic Republic Government. (That said, Dooku was sent to the Jedi because his parents didn't want him and ||left him to die of exposure, basically, so that if the Jedi arrived too late they'd be picking up a baby corpse|| because they were so disdainful of Force-Sensitive individuals, and Quinlan wasn't sent to the Jedi so much as he escaped to them.)

They are all incredibly wrong about this, and royals raised as Jedi generally do not give any more of a shit about their home planets than any other planet. They care, of course, but they are not attached, because they are Jedi. Xanatos was an exception (afaik his dad sent him to the Jedi because he wanted to do the Catholic thing? and then Xanatos lost his mind). (Don't correct me on this, it's not really important if it was actually intended or not.)

This is achieved by way of Jedi from royal backgrounds having a mandatory high-level political class on how to handle royal court politics and general intrigue. It's not exclusive to the royal kids, but it is a prerequisite for them. They usually end up doing their home planets as case studies for capstone projects, in part because

Sometimes the planets try to call their errant royals back. It might be because the planet is struggling and genuinely running out of heirs/needs a change in leadership (Serreno) and it might be because it was the plan all along, but on the off chance that the Jedi decides they HAVE to leave the Order and take up a throne to keep an entire planet from kind of imploding on itself... that royal Jedi has to be ready to play the game. OR if they don't actually think they're REALLY needed there, they have to be trained on how to go, and be polite/avoid getting trapped/play the game until they can get the hell out of there, while also installing that cousin that nobody thought was strong enough but DOES understand how to run the treasury as the new king.

I'm just imagining this like. Very specific set of classes that are open to any Jedi that's taken the necessary prereqs, but is mandatory for people like Quinlan and Dooku and Oppo.

This was inspired by a post of mine that's getting circulated regarding QuinObi stuff and my thoughts about how Quinlan might have needed preventative training in case of political upheavals trying to pull him back to his home planet. I want to mess with the Politics Classes that Quinlan is taking because he has to and Obi-Wan is taking because Qui-Gon said he should.

Qui-Gon: You should take this class because I'm training you up as a negotiator and diplomat, and you will need it to interact with people when brokering trade deals or peace treaties. Tholme: You are taking this class because your aunt is insane and you have to be ready in case she tries to pull you back into the bullshit.

And as @firebirdeternal offered:

Quinlan: God this is the worst. So boring. At least Obi-Wan is stuck here too. Obi-wan: This is fascinating wow, I can't believe I almost didn't get to attend, Quinlan is so lucky he's automatically in these classes.

[navillee]

I need to talk about sub Sylus. I got the mental NEED to go against the grain and spread the word, so here I am.

All lads' men can be subs. You guys aren't seeing it cause you vision what a sub should be is restricted.

Sub Sylus 𓅨

an Introduction

Sylus has so much potential as a sub and you all are committing the nastiest sin for ignoring that possibility;

I'm gonna say that once: all that facade he proudly polished being the Onychinus leader is just to hide the fact that he's a finsub. And probably a SAM too;

Let me elaborate to the people who also knew he was into something but couldn't figure it out. Sylus doesn't fit what most people consider the standard for a submissive men is, but that doesn't mean that he's automatically a dom, or that the things making Sylus eyes spark – quite literally – are approaches reserved to doms only;

First of all, it is clear he's a finsub. Finsub is a shortcut to 'financial sub', and the term explains itself. I'm 100% sure that as soon as you enter the N109 zone, he was already requesting a credit card for your use exclusively. It didn't get delivered in time. That's why he landed his at the protocore auction;

"5 million. You offer will make people think I'm broke. Wouldn't want that, sweetie." That line alone explains everything, on top of he only sounding satisfied when you bought every protocore there;

He loves showing off to others how healthy he is and how no other but him is suitable to spoil his dom miss hunter;

Did you ever notice he's always spoiling you? Dresses, high-quality protocore-based weapons, week dates to expensive and exclusive restaurants, jewelry, even a private fireworks show. Luke and Kieran are always running down to Linkon to deliver you something new in the middle of the week because Sylus can't wait the entire week. He never can;

Sylus gets off watching his bank account movement as you spend his money. As higher the spent, better his orgasm;

You can spend all you want, but he made sure to request that every time you wish to buy a new set o lingerie, he could give his humble opinion on it;

On top of that, he always gives you hints about what he wants you to use on him. That's why you had to stop opening your message app on the hunter's association computer browser: Sylus can send you links to a new sex toy any time during the day. As I told you before, he can never wait properly;

"They made an exclusive high-quality leather collar craved in rubies." *sends the link of the N109 zone's craftsman* "Wouldn't that match my eyes, mistress hunter?"

It's a matter of three days wait to receive the said collar at your apartment's door. That's Sylus way to make you visit his mansion;

And THATS when his other side bloom. The SAM sub side. 'SAM' is also a shortcut that stands for a combination from "pain slut" and a brat. Sylus is both;

I mean, come on, he made you shoot him, and since the evol resonance failed, he acted like a desperate brat. When he noticed that his behavior was making you dislike him, Sylus noticed that it was better to show his freaky side little by little, to not scare his darling away from him;

But he couldn't even if he wanted to. You two are attached to levels that neither of you can actually understand. He knows that, and he wants to explore his desires with you because they're made to suit yours. He knows that deep inside, you want to devour him as much as he wants to feel the pain;

Is that threatening feeling that makes his eyes sparkle in blood red. That's why there's this push-pull dynamic happening with him. It's because he's desperately trying to bring out your dom side;

That's when the second name he refers about you appears. "Miss hunter," "mistress hunter," is just the surface level of Sylus as a sub;

It's when "ma'am" slips out his mouth that you know you have this man on your hands. And "ma'am" isn't "mommy." There's a substantial difference between them. That's why every sub is different;

As an example, let's use another lads man as an example: Rafayel. Rafayel is the type of sub that refers to you as "mommy." From his behavior to his tone of voice, his "mommy's" melodic calls are a meeting awaited for centuries, it's a sign of obedience, an eager plea for guidance to a comfort place where he doesn't have to worry anymore;

Sylus "ma'ams" are pleas for destruction. He wants more, and he wants harder;

"Yes ma'am. Can you do it harder? Fuck! I need it harder!"

You're entropy to his universe. As you two reach the chaos together in a complex dance of testing the others' nerves, more alive he feels.

He teases, and he teases way too much. You should always keep attention to his body signs cause he's reckless when there's a collar around his neck. When he watches the rubies of his now favorite collar shining on the mirror, all he wants is to you to break him;

Put a pretty gag on his convinced smile. He doesn't want praises, so when he starts drooling slut him out. Watch Sylus getting hard with your condescending tone. He will keep mumbling back cause he wants more;

Force him on his knees, kick his legs spread apart, and pull his hair back. The face of eagerness approval he will give you is gonna be priceless;

Slap his skin, face with your hands, thighs, and ass with the so commented good leather toys he bought. Do that every time he shows himself unable to keep his damm hands on the handcuffs;

Rip his skin with your nails. It isn't like he gives you other options. When Sylus notices you're scratching him, he will find a way to piss you off. "I thought your nails are sharper than that," "a kitten can't scratch it like tiger after all, shouldn't put my expectations too high." Watch him hiss and arch as you paint his torso with thin red fillets of his ripped sensitive skin;

I think he's also okay with spit, especially on his mouth;

He is large and tough. He can take anything, and I mean ANYTHING you give it to him;

Shove a vibrator right on prostate and keep pumping his cock, test him to see how much he can handle until he breaks;

Because when he, in fact, breaks, there's nothing left but a dumb slut that can only mumble unconnected words – swearing disconnected sentences in its great majority;

When you finish with him, he will be a mess, head too cloudy to think as you take care of his bruises;

Isn't it like you could prevent him from walking around with little to no fabric on his torso inside the house. He's definitely an exhibitionist. Those are bruises worthy to show of, anyway, he likes seeing himself in the mirror with them, it feels right;

As he watch them fade away, it is just a matter of time for him until he starts to get on your nerves again, to make your obscene art on his skin and on his mind.

[ghostofhyuck]

The look of love, the rush of blood. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

how nct dream looks at you lovingly.

‧˚ʚ ───────── ₊‧꒰ა ୨ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ───────── ɞ˚‧

Mark Lee

Trust that Mark's the type who'll just be lost by just staring at your face. He loves every detail of your face that he had engraved it on his mind. He loves how your eyebrows dance like it has its own body, he knows if you're happy, sad, or angry by just looking at it. Or maybe he knows where your beauty mark is and he automatically aims at it for a kiss. Barefaced, with makeup on, or even when your makeup's melted, he had engraved it all in his memory. "Mark?" "What?" he automatically replied, realizing that he's been staring for too long. You only let out a laugh, "nothing, you're staring." "Well, can't help but to admire my girl." 

Huang Renjun

Renjun looks at you like you're the last existing person in this world --- in his world per se. He just stares at you with much fascination as if it's just the two of you alone in that room. Everything is just blurry, he couldn't hear any other noise except your voice and laughter despite being in a crowded room, and that's just pretty sums up how much Renjun loves you. "Renjun!" the man snaps out when he felt a smack on his arms. "Hey! I've been calling your name for an hour, what the fuck man?" Haechan angrily said. "Sorry, didn't hear you there, I was talking to yn." his friend could only rolled his eyes because he just witnessed Renjun's whipped moment. 

Lee Jeno

Everyone thinks that Jeno looks at you lovingly when his eyes disappears, but those are just during the light-hearted moment, during the cases where he can feel his heart jump in joy because of you, along with the soft laughters and endless teasings. But Jeno looks at you lovingly when you're oblivious by it. When his eyes were gazing at you wide yet soft, and gentle but you don't know that because you're used to his eye smiles. It's the type of look that will make him think, "damn, I really got myself lucky with you." without looking away.

Lee Donghyuck

You're used to Haechan's mischievous and playful side that it always surprise you whenever he stares at you with a softer gaze. Childlike stare as if you're a fragile thing, accompanied with actions that are also soft like the way his hands slide onto yours or the way he brushes your hair without breaking the contact. You know that he's whipped but you couldn't help but to laugh, ruining the sweet atmosphere. "What, why?" your boyfriend asked, confused. "Sorry, I'm just not used to you being sweet." you confessed. "What!? I can be sweet!"

Na Jaemin

When Jaemin looks at you, he'll just be in deep to it that he doesn't realized that he's not blinking at all. He can't help it! What if at the blink of an eye, you're just out of his sight? He won't let that happen! That's why he'll just admire you for so long and he doesn't even realized that he's not blinking at all until you snapped him out of it. And as he blinks, tears formed from his eyes and as he opened it, you're there looking at you with worried. "Have you not been blinking at all?" you asked, a bit appalled. He only smiled, "Can't let you out of my sight." 

Zhong Chenle

Just like Jeno, Chenle will be the type that when he stared at you, he'll be like, "she's my girlfriend? you're kidding me right?" he'll be eyes wide, mouth a bit open because he just couldn't sometimes fathom that you exist and you're his girlfriend. He'll be taken aback by that fact that he has to sink in all those thoughts while staring at you. You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend's expression that you snapped your fingers in front of him. "Are you okay? Do I look weird?" you asked. "No! Of course not! It's just --- you're beautiful. Damn."

Park Jisung

Jisung looks at you the same way he looked at you the first time he saw you. A bit surprised expression but this time, he has a smile on his face because he knows that you're his girlfriend. He looks at you with much admiration that it is painfully sweet for others, because in his point of view, you two are like in a film where everything is just moving while you two are staying still. "What's that look?" you teased. "What look?" he asked, but there's a smirk on his face. "You know what I mean Ji." 

[angrythingstarlight]

What’s worse for Bucky- when Bee cries or when Malyshka cries?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

CW: Fluff, implied smut.

When little Bee cries, Bucky automatically goes into protective dad mode.

She's a happy baby who's becoming an even happier, sweet toddler. She is also the most protected child on the east coast thanks to Bucky crafting a safe environment around her.

So Bucky knows when she's upset, it's most likely because she's tired and cranky and needs a nap. He knows how to get her to settle down, Bucky has put important meetings on hold so she could lay in his arms until she fell asleep.

She might cry when her head or tummy hurts, and like any child her age, she doesn't know how to convey what's wrong except by crying. It's okay though because Bucky can tell what's wrong by the way she behaves. And he knows how to make her feel better, whether it's with his grandma's soup or medicine hidden in some juice.

She's an active, imaginative little girl who's currently battling three dragons, it's inevitable that she's going to fall down and hurt her knee or hand. She knows all she needs to do is find her Papa and he'll help her.

Bucky has so many tips and tricks up his sleeve, things he's learned from his grandparents, friends, and the baby books he studied when Bee was still baking away in her mama's belly.

So Bucky doesn't really panic when his little girl cries because he knows that between him and her mama, they'll fix whatever is wrong.

But when his wife cries, oh that's an entirely different story.

Bucky considers himself a reasonable, level-headed man. Until someone upsets his wife. His stoic nature goes right out the window and a more primal side of him takes over. No one makes Bucky's wife cry and gets away with it. All he needs is a name and he's going to make things even.

He's an eye for an eye kinda man.

If someone makes the love of his life cry then Bucky makes them regret waking up this morning. It's more than fair.

There are other times when she cries that elicit a slighty different response from him.

When she was pregnant and hormonal, he learned to adapt to her rapidly changing, unpredictable moods. Bucky never teased her when she kept crying during movies or that one ridiculously sad commercial. He soothed and comforted her every time it happened. Let her cry on his shoulder while he rubbed her back.

If she woke up in the middle of the night in tears because she had a craving but her favorite restaurant was closed, Bucky merely made a call and would you look at that? Who knew Antonio's had a midnight delivery service, of course they serve their full menu at 1am.

Bad day? Overwhelmed and so stressed out that the only thing she can do is cry? Bucky knows a few ways to make it right, to take her mind off everything. It works. Every. Single. Time.

There is one exception to the rule.

There are a few instances when Bucky doesn't mind seeing his pretty wife with tears in her eyes.

That's when she's under him. On top of him. Bent over his desk. On all fours in front of their bedroom mirror. Mascara streaming down the sides of her face, eyes rolled back and her hands digging into his back as he goes deeper and faster.

He loves turning her into a pliant, whimpering fucked out mess. Loves seeing her struggle to take it. Loves the way he stretches her limits until she breaks around him. Loves cleaning up the mess he made.

Those tears—the ones that fill her beautiful eyes right around the time he's flipping her over and taking her for the third time that night—those tears turn him on, make him want to ruin her just a little more than he already has. So he does.

Bucky believes the only time his wife should cry is when he's making her feel so good she can't help it. That's the only exception. Anything else is unacceptable.

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 🐦‍⬛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I've added Victor into this, but I want to have a conversation about if he can be a romantic partner - or he will always be platonic?

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

You're still in Fromville, not having escaped yet but making the best of it.

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒅 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Domesticity to Boyd is so much different in this town compared to the 'real' world.

・For example, he would be awake before you, no matter the day just so he could surprise you with your favourite drink and a pastry each morning.

・The chores would be split 50/50, with Boyd usually picking up any slack (he doesn't mind at all)

・He loves doing the laundry, folding your clothes with so much care.

・But here... his actions to show his love are limited and it kinda pisses him off

・But you constantly remind him of all the good he's done here and how he keeps everyone together.

・You celebrate every win, even the small ones.

・Boyd is big on DIY, and loves fixing up things for you. Anything you ask - you want a different type of curtain, or you want part of the window patched up - he does NOT let you do it. That is HIS job.

・Massaging his shoulders at night, feeling how taught he is. This town is so hard on him. It constantly makes you wonder, why him?

・You do have one rule though: last one in bed has to make it!

・Boyd seems like the type of person to keep everything about himself to himself. But that isn't true. He likes telling you things, he enjoys opening up to you.

・One really important factor in your relationship is the challenges of town and its mysteries.

・Many people in town were basically betting how long you two would together.

・But what they didn't know, was that the horrors STRENGTHENED your bond. It made you both rely on each other so deeply.

・Having a partner means so much to him.

・Boyd loves you so much. He would never burden you with what he knows, but he loves when you have random conversations.

・It makes things feel just a bit more normal. It gives him hope.

𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Mornings and nights are especially special to you both

・Slow, careful, mindful, warm and cosy.

・Touching each other in some way - hugging each other from behind, pinkies entwined, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, rubbing noses together - if anyone else saw you too they would gag (ITS CALLED LOVE)

・Kenny LOVES tucking you in at night.

"You comfy now?" As he wedges the blanket under the side of your body.

"Yes Kenny! Now get in bed you loser!" You answer laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm just looking after the most important person in my life thank you very much."

・You love listening to him; to his stories about his childhood up until he came to town.

・One of Kenny's favourite things is when you read to him. Even if you don't have a book in front of you, he just wants you to recount as much as you can from books you have read.

・Might be kind of painful, but you two like talking about how life would be like together outside of this hell.

・Owning two cats, two dogs, maybe some fish.

・Whenever you hear the creatures screeching, you automatically cling to Kenny, you can't help it. You HATE the noises.

・But you always feel safe around Kenny. Always.

"I've got you. I swear to god I'll never let anything happen to you."

𝑱𝒂𝒅𝒆 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Every morning he gives you a kiss on the head and 'tip toes' out of the room, trying not to disturb you.

・You usually yell at him to get back in bed

"My looooooove, I have important business to attend to!"

・The bed is pressed up against the wall, and Jade says if someone/something were to enter the room, he would be the first thing they see

・From then he starts his daily ritual of figuring out how to get the hell home

・Jade teaches you A LOT of stuff. And you're always surprised by how well he does at teaching. He's patient (only with you but you don't know that), and takes his time to teach in ways you'll understand (once again, only for you...)

・He is like a walking computer at times. Really good with dates and great with measurements.

・But one thing he is terrible about is the fact that he's a repeat offender blanket stealer. Absolute criminal.

・No matter how much you tug and pull, or wrap yourself in it, Jade somehow unravels you in his sleep and takes the blanket.

・When you both wake up, you've practically snuggled underneath him...

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"You stole the blanket again and I got cold," you reply muffled beneath him. He's very warm.

"Oh god, sorry! We ah, we should probably get more blankets then... god why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? Ever since we got our own place, you've slept like you've never done so in your life!"

・It was quiet before he replied, and then he wrapped his arms around you.

"That's because I haven't sleep properly before I met you."

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒍 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Your relationship with Randall is one that surprises you. Constantly.

・People don't see him the way you do. At times they start to though.

・But only you get to see his true soft side. The side that moves the hair from your face, kisses your forehead, nudges his nose against your own.

・You are the ONLY person to make him laugh.

・He knows so much about you - the way you like your clothes folded or hung up. He knows which books are your favourite, which song you could listen to on replay.

・Music is a big thing to Randall, and the fact that he can't just randomly play something on his phone gets him really down.

・So one night you guys make a list of every song you like, when you heard it and what it made you feel

・Making each other guess who you were before arriving in hell.

"Hmm... you were ... a ... farmhand on a ranch..."

"What the fuck Y/N."

"What? Were you?"

"Oh yeah sure, you hit the nail straight on the head sweetcheeks," and then he rolled his eyes.

・You laugh, loving when he gets 'annoyed' (you know he can never really be annoyed with you right?)

・You know each other's favourite tv shows, colours, smells, literature and so on. You whisper to each other through the night, trying to take your mind off of the screeching coming from outside.

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Always the last to get up, sometimes he wakes before you but he'll still lay in bed, watching you sleep. Sometimes blowing air on your face when it's been a few hours and he gets bored

・Leaving sweet notes in unexpected places, they range from:

'hey baby, went down to do some work in the greenhouse, love you xx' to 'yo sexy honey see you tonight ;)'

・And you keep every single one of them. You have a sort of time capsule thing underneath the bed in one of your bags. Just small photos, letters written to each other, etc.

・Side note - Ellis is a cheeky man who loves to rile you up. Push your buttons. Make you red in the face.

・But he knows when enough is enough; he's extremely intune with your moods and doesn't have to ask when the days get too much.

・LOVES MAKING UP RANDOM SONGS ABOUT YOU, they are terrible but they make you laugh

・CONSTANTLY setting up spontaneous things for you guys to do. Seeing a smile on your face is the best thing he has ever seen.

・Literally puppy love.

・You guys seem to be able to talk to each other mind to mind. Glances from across the room are easily read by one another.

𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

PSA: As I said above, I'm not sure if Victor can be a romantic partner - I would love everyone's thoughts on it and maybe we can come to some kind of agreement??? Anyway, read this how you like ⟡☾⚝☽⟡

・Home...this town is the only home that Victor had ever truly known.

・How could you show him that the way he'd been living was not normal? That he should be able to feel safe, he should have gone to school - maybe even his drawing could have evolved into something astonishing

・So, in little ways you introduce this life to him

・He can't remember his birthday (so you help him choose one) and the two of you, along with Ethan, Tabitha and Julie celebrate

・...home decor projects are mostly just Victor's drawings. The really scary ones, you ask to be put away and he obliges <3

・Victor is used to living with other being, but not sleeping in the same room as another person.

・You would also need to get used to his blatant honesty. It isn't like he's trying to hurt you but he can just be brutally honest.

・Picnics in your room where you scavenge whatever food you can and talk about the funniest things you've seen people do

"I saw Jim ... trip over today," Victor says in a hushed voice, a cookie halfway to his mouth.

You burst out laughing, even snorting as you imagine the uppity Jim Matthews take a tumble.

"God, I wish I saw that."

・At first Victor didn't want another friend. He didn't want to get close to someone, he knew something would happen to you. You'd be taken away from him.

・But you swore to him that you would always be there for him.

・In town, and when everyone leaves. You've told him that you can be his home, his family.

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡɾɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

[triciawritesstuff]

Pairing: Jun tae x reader

Genre/content: romance, slow burn, idiots in love

Every day, at the same time, you saw him. Like clockwork, you'd both stay until the sun went down and a cloak of darkness fell over Seoul. It was an unspoken agreement that you both never spoke to each other, only lingering glances across the many rows of books that separated you both. You were here to study, not fraternise with boys. No matter how cute they were.

Today is different. You can both definitely hear the barrage of torrential downpour pitter pattering against the windows. you look up from your textbook, look at the door and then look at the boy.

You can hear the faint scratching of his pen on paper and occasionally he reaches for his phone and let's out a small laugh after reading something. You wonder if he's here everyday by choice, unlike you who feels more comfortable being around books and silence than people.

Your gaze lingers too long and he catches you from across the room. He smiles softly and raises his right arm, as if to signal a sort of wave. You can definitely tell that his movements are restricted due to the large brown fluffy sherpa jacket he's wearing. You think for a minute how it would feel against your fingertips. You are still staring. You raise your hand quickly in return and wave awkwardly, the heat traveling up your neck and pooling in your cheeks. you wonder if he can see what you're thinking. His brown eyes seem to stare deep into your soul like he's figuring you all out.

You quickly look away and focus on packing away your pencil case and books before you can embarrass yourself any further. Your black sneakers sqeak against the floor as you swiftly make it to the glass automatic doors leading out into the storm. "Hey! Wait! Do you have an umbrella?" The boy blurts out, suddenly standing up, hastily shoving his work into his bag, clearly not interested in if it will get damaged or not.

You turn around. "Sorry?" You question, just incase you'd misheard him. Your hands clasp together in front of you, anxiously playing with your fingers.

"I said do you have an umbrella? You can't really be thinking of leaving now." He gasps out as he quickly jogs after you and now stops just about a meter away.

"Uhhh..no I don't" You feel foolish at the concept that it didn't cross your mind to bring one. "I'll be fine though, it's just a bit of rain!" You joke, trying to lighten the mood but it definitely falls flat. You take that as your que to turn back round and head out the door. You hear the sound of something crashing to the floor behind you and a zipper being undone.

Before you can even turn, the soft brown jacket is being lifted over your head. Concealing both of you from the assault of the rain. Your eyes meet again, but this time only a few inches remain between you. compared to the several yards from the last encounter you wonder how close you'll be the next time you meet. "Do you live down this way? I've seen you walking that way. N-not that I've been watching you. I mean. " He stammers out awkwardly.

"Yeah, I do. Are you sure you're okay with your jacket getting wet?" You question softly. The proximity of you both has your mind racing, you swear it's intoxicating. The soft brown fabric comforts you slightly from the crack of thunder that echoes across the buildings. You flinch, crashing into him slightly.

"Yeah totally! It will dry anyway! Let's go." He exclaims optimistically. His right arm leaves feathering light touches across your shoulder as he holds the jacket above both your heads. You head down the street at a sort of half running pace, both of you trying to avoid puddles, giggling if any water happens to accidentally get on his school trousers from your lack of coordination.

Before you know it, you're outside your house. "Thank you, I'll see you around?" You question desperately, not ready for thjs encounter to be your last.

"Yeah of course!" He exlaims, adjusting the bridge of his glasses so that he can see you clearly, even with all the splattering of rain on them. His hair all sticking up in whichever direction due to the friction from his jacket.

You turn wistfully. "It's jun tae. Seo jun tae." You hear from behind you quietly.

"See you around, Jun tae!" You say with purpose, trying not to be drowned out by the vicious rain which seems to have mellowed now that you've gotten home. "And thanks again." You smile widely, lifting your right arm in a gesture of goodbye. He replicates the action before you turn around quickly and run into your house excitedly at the prospect of making a new friend.

Might make a part 2 idk

I haven't even done dialogue since, like English in high school, I had to Google the rules, lmao.

As always, please be nice. This is my first sort of long form content. I'm open to any feedback. Thank you:3

Also, It's not proofread, and I'll definitely edit it.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 12 - halloween part 1

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

it was finally time for the long awaited halloween party. kie and cleo had arrived at yours and sarahs dorm to start getting ready in full pre-game mode. the place smelled of hairspray and alcohol, half a bottle of vodka drunk in preparation for the long night.

sarah was sprawled across the floor with a straightener in hand, kie sat on the edge of your bed experimenting with glitter on her face, and cleo was pouring herself another drink.

you leaned against the edge of your desk, sipping slowly from your drink, doing your best to stay present. but your thoughts kept drifting.

specifically to rafe. and his stupid fake wedding and his stupid mixed messages he keeps giving you.

"you okay?" sarah asked, glancing at you through the mirror, eyebrow raised.

"yeah," you said automatically. too quickly.

kie caught it too. " are you sure? you've barely moaned about rafe tonight and thats how i know something is up."

you and sarah shared a quick glance to each other, not missed by the girls.

"okay. what the fuck did that look mean?" cleo chimed in, stopping mid eyeliner.

"is there something you guys aren't telling us?" kie questioned.

"i'll leave this one to you y/n." sarah turned away with a smirk.

you sighed, dragging a hand through your hair freshly curled hair. "ok, promise you guys won't make this weird?"

"you're not filling me with much hope." cleo stood up from doing her makeup.

you paused, letting silence fill the room. "i think i may like rafe."

kie dropped her dress on the floor, "oh. my. god."

"you're fucking kidding me. the same rafe who has a reputation for being a fuck boy? the same rafe who is sarah's brother?" cleo crossed her arms, confusion present in her face.

"i know i know. i don't understand it either. but things have just been, different. and this whole fake wedding thing has got me so in my head and i feel... upset?" you swallowed.

"you're jealous." sarah joined the conversation.

you hesitated, then gave in. "maybe. i don’t know why it’s bothering me this much. i mean- i do. but i hate that it is. i don't want to like him."

kie came over to you, serious now. "y/n, it’s not dumb to feel that way. you had a moment with him. he's been treating you differently and now he’s parading around campus with some barbie for a fake marriage. it’s performative, but it still stings."

"i feel so stupid," you said quietly, "it’s not like we’re a thing. it’s not like i have a right to be upset."

"but you feel upset," cleo finally spoke, turning to look at you. "that’s real. you’re allowed to feel weird about it."

"and jealous," kie added with a smirk.

you let out a groan, falling back against your pillows. "this is a disaster. i was doing so well being nonchalant and mysterious and now i’m just… in my feelings over a stupid fake marriage."

sarah grinned. "i mean, if it makes you feel any better, emily reed is the least exciting choice. literally no one at zeta delta likes her."

you laughed. "that helps. slightly."

cleo gave you a soft look. "so what happens if he sees you tonight? what do you want?"

you sighed. "i don’t know. but i want to look good when it happens."

"now that’s the energy i like to hear," sarah stood dramatically, grabbing her makeup bag. "sit."

you rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting her start on your makeup. "so you guys don't hate me for this?"

"we could never hate you y/n. we just always want the best for you." kie reassured you.

"exactly. and for you to be happy. even if i don't particularly like rafe, i know you see him in a different way than we do." cleo explained, her tone gentle. "and maybe he sees you differently too."

you blinked, caught off guard by the quiet truth of her words.

sarah leaned in, carefully blending eyeshadow across your lids. "he definitely does."

"cheers to that." kie lifted her cup.

when sarah was finally done, she spun your chair towards the mirror. you blinked at your reflection.

"damn,” kie said, leaning in. "rafe’s gonna need CPR when he sees you."

"not that we’d give it to him," cleo giggled. "but the thought is there."

you smiled despite the knot still turning in your stomach.

you were going to show up, look hot, and maybe, just maybe, make him feel a little confused for once.

"okay,” you said, standing and reaching for your boots. "let’s go."

a/n: oh you guys are not gonna be ready for the next chapter

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily @nonbeliever1

[cuteandhughesy]

I Love You, I’m Sorry | Sidney Crosby (part 2)

summary: after you found out you were the other woman, you broke it off with sidney—making him promise to tell his wife. now your life has changed drastically, and you don’t know what’s going to happen with the love of your life. because even if sidney and his wife end their marriage, you don’t know what that means for your shattered relationship.

[word count] 2.9k

warnings: mentions of cheating | unedited

a/n: a highly anticipated and requested part two of the other woman! hope you guys enjoy this <3 this isn’t anything that detailed or crazy, but still gives a few unanswered questions you may of had.

🎵I love you, I’m sorry by gracie abrams

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

sidney crosby's wife knew that her husband was involved in some kind of infidelity. it was easy to tell. especially when she started to notice that sidney was happier. he no longer ate dinner alone, and he no longer slept on the couch with nothing but the throw blanket off the back of the couch. he was cracking jokes, and seemed interested in conversation, listening to what she was saying.

that's when she knew. it hasn't been that way in their marriage for years—so positive and content. sidney and his wife had unequivocally grown apart. fallen out of love. there was nothing that could be done between them. they tried therapy and time apart, endless conversations and sometimes nothing but silence. they weren't meant for each other—not anymore.

so when he started changing, sidney's wife automatically knew. of course, it didn't feel great. she was an outcast in her own (failed) marriage. but, it would've gotten to this point, with one of them, sooner or later. sidney just so happened to find you first.

although, she has to give credit where it's due—sidney was good at physicallly hiding you. there was never any perfume stuck to his clothes, or lipstick on his neck. never any unknown callers trying to reach him at ungodly hours of the night, and definitely no unidentifiable panties hidden in his laundry.

his wife isn't even upset with you—whoever you are. her and sidney's entire relationship was kept so private that it's almost impossible to know unless you've gone digging. chances are, you're not even a hockey fan. chances are, you're in love with her husband—just like she once was.

sidney shuts the door with a soft and sad click, barley audible from where his wife waits, sitting straight backed on the couch, posture almost rigid with her feet together and expression intangible. sidney kicks his shoes off next to the shoe rack—he told her that he was going for a run. or maybe stopping by a genos. she can't remember the excuse—before becoming visible by the grand archway between the hall and living room.

there's something on his face—something sad and heartbroken—and his wife falters. is he hurt? is somebody else hurt? did something happen?

her mouth opens and closes like a fish, waiting for sidney to say something. say anything. but he simply just walks into the room and takes a seat on the chair across from her. clearly, whatever has happened doesn't concern his wife enough to tell it out. or maybe...it does, and that’s the cause of his silence.

sidney's hangs his head for a beat, taking shallow breathes while she continues to wait patiently. there's something there, nagging in her gut, telling her that this is it. this is the moment that everything will really change. and for some reason, that brings a great deal of relief.

tiptoeing around one another and secrecy isn't fun. it's exhausting—and so is pretending not to know that her husband has a girlfriend. a girlfriend who he undeniably loves, maybe more than he ever loved her.

just when she thinks that sidney isn't going to say anything, he inhales a short, sharp breath. "I'm in love with somebody else."

and there it is. she'll admit, it does sting hearing it out loud, even though she's not shocked by the information. after all, she's known as long as sidney has.

"I know."

those two words have sidney snapping his head up in her direction, confusion laced across his deep features. maybe, his wife did know. he can't decide if that makes it better or worse. had he not been hiding it as well as he thought he had?

"i'm sorry," he tells her softly, "I was being selfish and in the process I hurt everyone around me. it wasn't fair."

she nods, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. her lips are pursed, something that indicates she's deep in thought. it makes sidney almost nervous. "did she know that you were married?”

"no," his voice almost cracks, emotion from your breakup mere minutes ago still fresh on his mind, weighing on him heavily. "she just found out."

another nod. "okay." just as she suspected, you knew nothing about the marriage. and sure, sidney could be lying to lighten the blow. but she knows him—knows that when he lies he rubs his knuckles. right now, sidney is as stiff as a board. it's the truth. the sick and disappointing truth.

"we need a divorce." his wife say firmly, tone final, her gaze unwavering as she looks at him. "and I think we have for a while."

sidney clears his throat and sits up a little straighter, "yeah, you’re right. and i'm sorry for letting all of this go on for as long as it did. I think we were both unhappy."

“you’re right.” she runs a hand through her short hair as she continues, "and I don't know if this girl is planning to be with you after this—or you her—but if you do stay together, treat her better than this. treat her like you love her—like you claim you do."

and those words resonated deeply with sidney. he has to be better than before—he has no choice. sidney knows he went about this entire situation the wrong way. the cheating, the complete disregard and mishandling of not only his wife's feelings, but yours as well, is nothing but immature and disgusting. frankly, it’s completely unacceptable.

telling his now soon to be ex-wife was the first step in his journey of growth and healing. it wasn't much, but it was something. and sidney? he's doing it for you. because no word of a lie came from him in your conversation today, and seeing you so heartbroken because of him was just fucking unbearable.

sidney loves you, more than he's loved anything in his entire life. friends, family, hockey...none of that hold’s a torch in comparison to you. and he knows it will take process and hard work to earn your trust and respect back, but sidney will stop at nothing to keep trying.

he wants things with you that he's never wanted before, and he's not about to abandon his new dreams or you because of his own awful lies and mistakes.

just before he left your place today, both of you still solemn with tears lining your misty eyes, he'd asked you in a whisper what do you need from me right now? and your response was nothing expect a watery, time.

sidney will work with you, no matter how long it takes.

— 7 months later

you drag the pad of your thumb over the clementine in your hand, feeling the dimples and imperfections that hide under the peel. you toss it back in the pile, and repeat the process on a new one. once you decide this one is fine, you put it one of those green tinted plastic produce bags provided at the end of every isle, and then reach for another clementine.

the past seven months—or in other words, since your breakup with sidney—has consisted of a lot of routine. getting up, going to work, coming home to shower, going to the grocery store when necessary, back home to cook and then eat alone, watching an episode of whatever reality show you're into for the week, and then bed.

and then repeat. it's nice because it keeps you distracted. the less time you have to think about sidney and your—unbeknownst to you—scandalous relationship, the better. because when you do think about it, you're just reminded of the heartbreak and tears and the fact that you still love him. of course you still love him. sidney crosby was everything you've never had before, and you know, no matter how hard you try and find someone else, they won't compare to him.

you pick up another clementine after deciding the last two weren't ripe yet, a small frown pulling at your lips at the vibrant orange fruit in your hand. you don't ever really buy them—he'll, you don't even like clementines or any kind of citrus fruit. but sidney did—you're sure he still does. you used to buy them all the time, back when you were unaware of his whole other relationship.

with a shake of your head, you put the fruit into the produce bag—making it a whopping three in there—and toss it in the toddler seat of the grocery cart. three is good, because anymore than that you'll just feel bad about waisting. three though? you can put one in your lunch and pass it off to your co-worker, and one can fertilize the compost, and the third can just wither away in the fruit bowl until you have no choice but to toss it.

you grab the handles of the cart and push it forward, but you're brought to an abrupt halt at the sight of broad shoulders and salt and pepper hair that you know all to well as he just rounds the corner into the citrus isle.

you're frozen as your eyes meet, goosebumps rising over your skin like you're in the frozen isle and not the fruit one. your grip on the cart becomes impossibly tight and borderline painful—it feels like your knuckles might splinter. but if you don’t ground yourself, you might collapse.

sidney crosby blinks in surprise, eyes falling over your sundress covered figure. he's holding his breath, too scared that if he breathes you'll be gone. a bunch of bananas are the only thing in his basket, and they, as well as the plastic basket, almost clatter to the ground as sidney's limbs go weak at the sight of you.

eventually, after what feels like an eternity of uncertain silence, he exhales. "y/n." your name on his tongue sounds so foreign but yet so familiar that it makes your chest expand and expand until it aches. you haven't seen sidney since he walked out of your apartment seven months ago.

he looks the same, maybe a little tired but still the same. soft eyes and strong jaw, plump limps that you used to kiss and arms you used to hold. he still smells the same too, and it makes you want to cry. as much as you tell yourself that you didn't miss him, your body betrays you—heart racing and skin tingling like it knows sidney is near.

"sidney," you swallow, a barley there smile gracing your face—polite and very customer service like. "hi."

"hi," he breathes. "how have you been?"

you pause, lips parting in a sharp inhale as you think. for a brief moment, you allow your gaze to flicker elsewhere. away from the eyes you fell in love with. when you do look back at sidney, he's still got his eyes trained on you. "i'm okay, yeah." you breathe, "and you? how have you been?"

"busy, like usual." sidney runs a calloused hand through his hair. "training camp is starting up, and i'm definitely getting older because my body is feeling it more than usual," he laughs weakly, playing it off like it's a joke. but nothing is funny about how his joints ache more often than not. and how he needs extra time in conditioning. but sidney's not going to get into that right now.

you smile breezily, kind of like you understand what he's actually saying, but also like you're not listening at all. that tugs at his heart rudely, but sidney can't blame your disinterest. after all, he's the one who fucked this all up—sidney is shocked that you haven't turned heel and ran the other way yet. he’s taking this interaction, not matter how short, as a victory.

you look around again, as if you're searching the area, sidney thinks. or maybe, you're looking for someone. a feeling of dread settles over him. are you looking for your boyfriend? have you moved on? does some other guy get to hold you and touch you and bury his nose into your neck, right on the spot you spray your perfume?

but then—"are you here by yourself? or has your wife decided to join you?" you tone is casual, but the question is anything but. naturally, you're curious about it. how could you not be?

are her and sidney still together? did he even tell her about you and your relationship? the questions have been nagging at you for months, and before your brain could logically process it, you were spewing them out between the apples and peaches.

sidney blinks in surprise, but recovers quickly. "oh, umm, no she's actually...we're in the process of separating."

this time, it's you blinking in shock. "oh. i'm sorry I didn't mean to pry-"

"don't apologize, y/n." sidney cuts you off easily, like he knows that if he didn't, you'd go on a ten minute ramble about feeling sorry. "I told her by the way. told her everything."

and there it is—the conformation to the never ending, nagging, long list of unanswered questions about what happened. more specifically, what happened after sidney walked out of your apartment door and never walked back in.

and most importantly, sidney fulfilled the only wish you asked in that moment of shared heartbreak between you.

you breathe again, this time laced with something that feels like relief. "good, sid, that's the right thing to do."

"yeah." the side of his mouth tugs up in a lopsided smirk, one that always used to turn your stomach inside out. hell, it still does.

you kiss your teeth, eyes once again diverting away from sidney's. there's a little bit of awkwardness stewing between you—there's bound to be after everything. your hands squeeze the handles of the shopping cart, and with a shrug of your shoulders, you’re owning your mouth in a breezy goodbye.

"sorry, i'll leave you to it." you say quickly, the wheels of the cart squeaking across the dull tiles below. you see no other option right now than to walk away, even if there's a million things you wish you could say instead. but you know that right now in such a state of shock, you won’t be able to find the right ones.

sidney's not yours, not anymore, and in all honesty he never was. this whole situation is messy and weird and you're left feeling trapped and awkward.

but sidney's not ready for you to leave yet. like you, there's so much he wants to say, expect he's no longer wanting to hold back. "I did it for you." sidney's deep, rumbling voice has you faltering, shopping cart wheeling to a stop just before you can pass him fully.

you gaze up at him, a mixture of curiosity and fear on your face. without missing a beat, sidney continues, "and I didn't reach out because...you deserved the space and time you wanted to think about everything. to think about us." his final admission is strained and desperate like he's been holding those words in for far too long.

your shoulders, which had been held high and tight, fall as you take everything in. a breathy sigh passes through your lips, "we can't do this here." if somebody you know is here, or a penguins fan...or somebody who knows his ex-wife...and you're spotted together having a conversation in the grocery store, it will burn long and bright until you're both inevitably seeking cover.

sidney watches the way your eyes flicker around the store once again, frantic gaze and lips pulled into a pout like they always do when you're worried. if this was 8 months ago, he'd swoop down and kiss your pout until it went away. the thought of kissing you right now is so overwhelming that sidney has to reach out and grip the edge of the apple display to hold himself back.

"you're right." sidney's words have your attention once more. "come to my place tomorrow. i'll make you breakfast and we can just talk. I miss you selfishly." his last words comes out in a hushed whisper, gaze darting between your eyes to ensure you're actually understanding what he's implicating.

sidney crosby can't fucking breathe without you.

something he can't decipher flashes over your face. "you want me to come to the home you shared with your wife?" your tone is strained, like you can't even fathom saying it out loud—stomach twisting as a nauseating feeling prickles your skin.

but almost immediately once you ask, sidney is shaking his head. "ex-wife. and no, i'm in my own apartment. it's just easier with...everything." everything being the divorce and dealing with his own heartache with your breakup. it's lonely and that goes without saying, but it's better than dealing with looks from his teammates and frowns from his family.

at least when he's alone, he can close his eyes and think of you. because the thought of you, and a moment like this one between you right now, is one of the only things keeping sidney going.

at first, you're unsure what to say. hesitance washes over you, and it's clear just by the way your face changes. but there's something else there, something inside you that wants to hear him and whatever kind of—apology? closure? a combination of both?—he wants to give you.

even if you don't forgive him, you deserve a clear headed explanation at least. you want him to be sorry, and most of all, you need to hear him say it. and that? that's the answer in itself. after a long beat, you respond—"okay...i'll come then."

his relief is undeniable. sidney lets go of his hold on the apple display and runs a hand over the back of his neck, a breathy laugh passing through the air between you. "okay, yeah." he grins, "i'll text you my address, okay?"

and much to add to his already upmost relief, you nod.

sidney is not a cheater. before meeting you he's never even been tempted to act unfaithful towards any of his partners. it's embarrassing and disgusting and just completely disrespectful. and he will never ever do it again—especially not to you. because you? you're it for him. sidney is planning his life with you. a life that's going to last for longer than eternity.

and sidney knows it's going to take a long time for him to earn your trust back, and you agreeing to breakfast is just the beginning. but he's got time, and sidney has no desire other than to use it wisely.

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS