#or anything else just have a great moment right now and the following moment

[soulhymn]

Finally drew Null after a long time 😭

Hey y'all, Tuu here ^^

Today I present you my silly artwork of Null from Minecraft Creepypasta ;D

Took me like 3 weeks to actually lock in and finish and spent 7 hrs in ibis for him 💔

You might ask me, "Damn Tuu, why the hell you gave a FREAKING MINECRAFT CREEPYPASTA abs and muscles, what the heck is wrong with you?" Well one, I may or may not be insane and two, free will babyyyy!!

Anyways I hope y'all like it, if not then cool but don't waste both your and my time hating on me or my art.

Anyways, see yaaaa!! I love y'all so much! Hope you have a great day, night or whatever, I just want y'all to have a great moment 💕💗 Also please forgive me if I made you intentionally or unintentionally upset. I really love y'all and you mean so much to me ♥♥♥

Here's a platonic smoochie 😘✨

💗💗💗

Also if you reached this far then here ya go, coquette Null 🎀

Byeeeeeee!!! Love ya 💕💗✨

[papayadays]

book girls belong to biker boys? - ln4

⋆˚✿˖°a/n: i was inspired by lando's biker outfit on media, and inspiration just struck (i swear i will get back on so close to what) ⋆˚✿˖° where a close run-in leads to something else or the one where you almost get run over by lando norris ⋆˚✿˖° faceclaim: alisha newton :)

liked by mclaren and others f1 lando arriving to the paddock in style! the mclaren driver pulled up to media day on a moped in principality

user5 someone sedate me

user6 monaco weekend let’s go lando!

user7 omg biker lando??? he looks so good

user8 hold on @/bookiemonster is this the guy who almost hit you?

bookiemonster wtf that’s him he’s a driver??? brb jumping off a cliff

user9 lando almost hit someone 😭

liked by mclaren and others bookiemonster “i would rather die of passion than boredom” - vincent van gogh (book rec of the day: this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone)

bff forever in your debt 💞

bookiemonster anything for you

mclaren glad to have you with us! liked by author

user13 wait WHAT?? who is she and how did she get garage passes?

user14 living my dream fr

user15 great. for. you. 😭

user16 pity invite??

user17 stay mad @/user16

user18 OMG THE BOOK REC?? I LOVE TIHYLTTW it’s so so beautiful

[lando is now following you!]

bookiemonster posted to their story!

caption: front wing all by itself hehe fp1 & fp2 done

bff replied: WTF WHEN DID YOU PICK UP ON F1 JARGON?? bff replied: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TEACH YOU bff replied: IT’S A LANDMARK DAY

lando replied: yep! you’re a fast learner

bookiemonster added to their story!

caption: at least they have good bookstores and pretty streets here

bff replied: gorg as always 😍

lando replied: no photo creds? do you hate me or something?

liked by bff and others bookiemonster “i hope it’s love” - richard siken

bff when you told me you were going out, you neglected to say that it was a DATE

bookiemonster sorry! it was just a quiet date and i needed to just process it forgive me 🥺

bff forgiven but tell me all about it asap

user19 how could you do this? think about your book boyfriends

bookiemonster they’ll forever have a special place in my heart, i haven’t forgotten my roots 😔

user20 THE RICHARD SIKEN QUOTE oh my heart

user21 calling me single in literature is a violation 😭

user22 i hope he knows enough literature to match her freak

bookiemonster 😅 about that…

user23 top 10 anime betrayals

user24 he better treat her right

liked by mclaren and others lando cya tomorrow for quali, monaco

user25 lando using commas in places i don’t even remember to put them 😭

user26 a changed man

mclaren is it time to hire you for the photography team?

user27 mclaren jesus 💀

user28 this is lando.jpg type post

user29 pic is gorg just like lando 😍

user30 who else is hyped for qualifying?

bookiemonster added to their private story!

caption: hope you get pole or whatever

bff replied: posting him already? bff replied: ooh girl you are so down bad for him

lando replied: hey look that’s me! thanks for the luck

liked by mclaren and others bookiemonster “there is no dishonor in losing the race. there is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.” - the art of racing in the rain by garth stein (which is my book rec of the day!)

bff i am so glad i dragged you here with me

bookiemonster i too, am very glad i went with you

mclaren our own garage literature scholar 🧡 liked by author

user31 oh so she’s close close w the team

user32 omg the movie for the art of racing in the rain was so good 🥹 yet another banger rec

user33 not her pretending to become a fan for clout

user34 sybau :)

user35 so here for her f1 x literature crossover

user36 imagine if she starts matching f1 moments to poetry? i would perish

user37 RIGHT? like emily dickinson with half the grid?

user38 did not expect her to get into sport this year let alone f1

liked by mclaren and others lando monaco pole. bam.

user39 LANDO POLE WE USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS

mclaren mega lap!! 👏

user40 new track record is insane

bookiemonster “bam”? just like how you almost hit me with your moped?

user41 HELP that was a violation

lando you’ve been waiting to say something like that, huh?

bookiemonster can neither confirm nor deny

user42 i know my goat!!

user43 lando nation we never left

liked by others f1gossip lando wanted to impressive a “pretty girl” with his pole 👀

user44 HELLO?? what kind of bombshell is this

user45 fr like casually dropping this in a post quali interview is crazy

user46 that should be me 😔

user47 guys be so fr it’s just another model like “pretty girl” is so shallow

user48 is that supposed to be a revelation? lmao they always date models

user49 he’s so happy when he’s mentioning his parents and the girl 🥹

user50 idk which insta model he’s hooking up w atp my driver got pole

liked by bookiemonster and others lando “let me name the stars for you” - richard siken

bookiemonster 🫶 liked by author

user51 he’s officially down bad

user52 past down bad

user53 she’s so gorgeous omg 🤭

user54 he’s quoting richard siken it’s over

user55 WAITTTT SO THEY WERE SOFT LAUNCHING EACH OTHER

user56 you’re so right how did we not see this?

user57 new otp alert!!

liked by lando and others bookiemonster “you’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him” - richard siken

lando 💘💘💘 liked by author

user58 he’s in his loverboy era

user59 stopppp their matching posts are so cute

user60 god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

user61 is no one talking abt how beautiful their richard siken quotes are?

user62 no real because why are they calling me single and kicking me in the gut

user63 oh how i wish to quote poetry with someone i loved

user64 and to think it all started with lando almost running her over

user65 😭😭

[bitters-n-sweets]

she's a menace — jack abbot x fem!reader While celebrating a coworker's birthday at a bar, Jack Abbot gets distracted watching his girlfriend dancing and turning heads.

warnings: suggestive content (minors go away), spicy, we love a supportive king (jack) masterlist

It's girls' night.

Meaning your dress is too short, and your heels are too high—but you feel amazing. You and your girls had pre-gamed at a bar earlier, and now on your way to the 2nd bar.

You needed this. A night to let go. A night to dance and drink overpriced cocktails and scream-laugh in a bathroom stall with your friends over absolutely nothing.

The bar is crowded, pulsing with music and low light, and when you spot the familiar silhouette at the other end, your heart does a small, surprised flip.

Jack.

He’s here. At this bar. Of all nights.

He hasn't spotted you yet, but you can see he's having a great time with his co-workers. Langdon is there, Collins too, and for once Robby is laughing without a care in the world. You want to say hi, but your friends are already dragging you to the dance floor. Besides, you're curious what he’ll do when he finally notices you.

But Jack’s already noticed.

He’s been stealing glances since you walked in, pretending not to look too long as you twirl and laugh under the flashing lights. Your dress clings in all the right places, dipping perfectly to show your cleavage, hugging every line of your body like it was stitched for sin.

Jack’s heart stutters.

The way you move isn’t for anyone in particular, but it damn well feels like a siren call—slow, confident, sensual. The dress rides up slightly as you spin, and your thigh peeks out just enough to make his breath catch.

If it weren't for Langdon calling for his attention, he would've jumped you by now.

"Yo Abbot— Damn," he whistles, "Someone’s out to kill tonight."

"You're tellin' me." Jack mutters, a proud yet hungry smile etched across his lips, "My girl knows how to put on a show, alright."

"Wait, that's your girl??" Langdon follows his gaze.

Jack nods once.

"I don't believe it." Javadi says.

"And you let her dress like that when you’re not around?"

Jack’s expression doesn’t change. "I don’t let her do anything. She can dress however she wants."

Langdon raises a brow. "Alright, modern man."

Jack sets down his glass and says calmly with a smirk, "Besides, she knows who she belongs to."

The table goes in waves of "oooh"s and whistles for half a second before someone murmurs, "Damn, okay," and they all take another shot.

Back on your side of the bar, you’re oblivious to the murmurs about you, caught up in the music and the high of the night. You wander to the bar for another drink, separated from your group for just a moment, when an uninvited man decides to make his move on you.

A guy—tall, clearly drunk, and way too confident. "Hey, beautiful," he slurs. "You look like you could use some company."

"No thanks." You say curtly.

He laughs and leans in closer anyway, eyes dropping to your dress. "You whores always try to play hard to get..."

Then his hand reaches out—fingers grazing your lower back.

He doesn’t get far.

A hand closes around his wrist, firm and alert.

"Hey, buddy—" the guy starts to protest, turning slightly, only to find himself face-to-face with your lover.

"You should walk away." Jack says with the kind of presence that makes everything in the room feel suddenly still.

The guy scoffs. "And who the fuck are you, old man?"

"I'm her man." Jack says proudly.

The guy lets out a sharp laugh. "You??"

Jack tilts his head, smile slow and cool. "Yeah. Me."

He steps in like he’s trying to size Jack up. "Why don't you go play hero somewhere else?"

"Last chance." Jack exhales once. "Back away."

Instead of listening, the guy sneers and reaches to you again—like he’s about to brush against your hip.

That’s when Jack moves.

He grabs the guy’s wrist mid-motion and twists. Not enough to do damage. Just enough to send pain shooting through the idiot’s arm.

The guy chokes out a curse, dropping back, eyes wide now.

Jack leans in slightly, stares at him like looks could kill. "You don’t want to find out what I’d do next. Now walk away."

And this time, he does. Muttering while rubbing his wrist, vanishing into the crowd.

"Hi, hero."

"Hey, trouble." He smirks, hands draping around your waist, making sure he covers the area that asshole tried to touch you. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum. "That was kinda hot."

Jack chuckles, "Oh, honey, you're drunk."

"Yes I am," You confirm. "So what are you doing here, handsome?"

"Donnie's birthday," Jack explains, "we're celebrating. Wanna come say hi?"

"Of course." You smile.

As you approach the table, conversation dips for a beat before Santos lets out a low whistle. "No way. This is your girl, Abbot?"

Jack doesn't answer, just gently pulls you closer and kisses you to make a point. His hand settles just above the curve of your ass, thumb brushing slow circles while you lean into him.

Langdon raises his brows. "My mind is blown right now. How'd you convince her to put up with you?"

"He didn't," you say sweetly, crossing one leg over the other. "I just like a man who can handle power tools, bruised ribs… and knows exactly what he’s doing in bed."

Jack nearly chokes on his drink, and the group erupts with laughter and a few scandalized woo-hoos. He clears his throat, glancing at you with a half-smirk. “Remind me to keep you away from tequila.”

You say goodbye to Jack's coworkers and your friends—they all had their jaws on the floor when they finally saw Jack in the flesh. With screams of "you go get it girl" and "someone's gettin' some tonight" following you out, you finally leave the bar, ears flushed, heart hammering in your chest.

You take a deep breath, finally breathing cool, fresh air. Jack's given you his jacket, like the gentleman he is, and now you're walking home, hand in hand.

"You okay walking? Want me to carry you?" Jack asks, glancing sideways.

You shake your head. "Need to walk off the alcohol anyway."

He hums, "So how was your night?"

"Fun!" you say brightly, then wrinkle your nose, "Until that asshole tried touching me. Ugh."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Jack says, kissing your hand.

"It's okay, you were there to save me. And you made it all okay." You smile, draping his arm around your shoulders. "Though maybe it’s the dress. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this."

"No, no, we're not gonna do that." Jack stops walking. "You said no, and he didn't listen, he's an ass, and karma will get him one day."

You hum, though Jack can tell you're still not convinced.

Jack turns to you and gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing along your jaw. "Sweetheart. You can dress any way you like. You look stunning tonight. You always do."

You smile softly. "Okay."

His mouth curls into that slow, grinch-like smirk you know too well. "Besides... I love being the one to take off those clothes once you're done showing off."

Your gasp, then narrow your eyes playfully. "Is that a threat, Dr. Abbot?"

"Oh, baby," he says, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, "That’s a promise."

----

a/n: kill me now || side note I have like 5 drafts all wip about this man, so help me god

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

Last | Master Post | Next...

"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.

[dannyriccsystem]

Idk but I love the idea of an audio text messages where the reader or the driver is sending a voice memo but during the memo they trip and fall down a flight of stairs (or something else) while the other laughs or is very concerned lol. I can just see Lando laughing for sure lol until the reader puts a ban on them lol

DOWN WE GO!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER TEXTS

Summary: Drivers accidentally fall down the stairs while sending you a voice note!

Warnings: Crack, not proofread, use of Y/N

Featuring: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, OP81

REQUESTS OPEN! CHECK HERE FOR MORE INFO!

Unfortunately the app I use makes it very hard to execute this concept so I wrote the voice memos separately, but I hope it’s satisfactory nonetheless!

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“Hi lieverd, I’m currently walking to my car right now. I’ll be home soon, but I just wanted to let you know. Love-”

Max’s voice was cut off. It was silent for a moment, but you could hear a THUMP! and some distant cursing. Seemed like a long fall.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“Okay, I’m walking back from the bathroom now, are you still in the event hall? I’m a little lost but- Gah!”

A shrill scream echoes as you trip, sending you tumbling down some stairs. Stupid heels. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“Yes, I just got out of my english class, I’ll- Woah!”

You’re cut off as you trip, tumbling down a few stairs that led from one level to the next. It wasn’t a big fall, but it was enough to cause some embarrassment for sure.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“Hello Y/N, sorry! I took Leo out for a walk, we’re at the dog park right now. Or we were, we’re walking back- Woah!”

A small bark could be heard right before the audio ended.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“I’m at the mall, why the hell are there no escalators? Every mall has escalators, all they have is plain old stairs and-”

Thump! There you go, all the way down the stairs.

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“I’m at the factory right now, but-”

A grunt, followed by a few thumps. Great.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:

“Hi Oscar, I’m going on a walk at the moment but I was thinking of going to the store after. Do we need anything? I- Oh!”

Just a small fall, but a rather dramatic cry left your lips.

[atlabeth]

heat lightning

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.” 

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing. 

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration. 

“That’s because this is important,” he says. 

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?” 

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level. 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit. 

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.” 

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.” 

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.” 

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly. 

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.” 

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.” 

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office. 

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over. 

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.” 

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything. 

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty. 

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting. 

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault. 

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable. 

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

-

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?” 

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.” 

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?” 

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.” 

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.” 

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?” 

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?” 

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly. 

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo. 

A photo of you. 

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower. 

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin. 

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe. 

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read. 

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.  

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?” 

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken? 

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?” 

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.” 

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” 

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified. 

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.” 

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.” 

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.” 

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.” 

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.” 

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad. 

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—” 

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face. 

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door. 

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office. 

You don’t really care. 

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit. 

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it. 

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team. 

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job. 

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job. 

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror. 

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you. 

You recall their words. 

Pretty little thing. 

You don’t care about her, but I do. 

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you. 

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you? 

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror. 

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation. 

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Are you alright?” she asks softly. 

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?” 

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.” 

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?” 

“What do you need?” 

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…” 

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.” 

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.” 

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur. 

-

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him. 

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?” 

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you. 

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?” 

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.” 

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.” 

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!” 

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.” 

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.” 

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe. 

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish. 

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you. 

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it. 

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out. 

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.” 

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him. 

He says your name, but you just shake your head. 

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.” 

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says. 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.” 

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.” 

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.” 

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.” 

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes. 

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.” 

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up. 

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator. 

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?” 

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed. 

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.” 

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”  

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.” 

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.” 

“You have a go bag, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs. 

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight. 

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him. 

“About what?” 

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.” 

You huff a laugh. “Really?” 

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.” 

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile. 

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure. 

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night. 

You really do have pretty eyes. 

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures. 

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him. 

Spencer lets out another short sigh. 

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 6: OVERSTIMULATION

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, overstimulation (receiving), unprotected piv, handholding omg officer this fic right here /j

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: When you simp so hard...it actually gets you were you want?

ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 2.4k

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: doneeee with my pending kinktober posts omgggg i thought i could use the whole week to procrastinate my days only playing infinity nikki and but then some stuff came up and ive barely been at home T_T but i really wanted to check this off my list before i lost the inspiration ueueueueue

. . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

“Ace—“

“Oh, boy. I know where this is going.”

“Did you see Malleus’s—”

“I did, and I don’t want to hear you gush about it.”

“His radiance is unfair, but I’m not even mad about it. And that ponytail? He should wear his hair like that more often, he looks so—”

Fed up with your yapping, Ace forced a spoonful of his lunch into your mouth. “Thank the great seven that the cafeteria's so noisy no one heard anything. I would’ve run away and pretended I didn’t know you.”

You didn’t even bother chewing before you swallowed the lump of food down your throat to continue. “Don’t even let me get started on what I would do if I got my hands in his ponytail.”

Ace groaned in annoyance and opened his mouth to cut you off before you got started, but his face paled when his eyes landed on someone behind you that heard you talk about his liege like that.

“Human! Such unbecoming thoughts…!” was none other than Sebek. Had he not gripped his lunch tray hard enough, it would’ve clattered to the floor. Curse the fae part of his blood that gave him better hearing.

If Sebek was around, then Malleus too…

Was this the end of the renowned Ramshackle prefect? Was this the way your journey into this unknown wonderland would finish? If you were lucky enough, dying was the way to return home…

“Sebek, it’s not polite to interrupt someone’s conversation,” Malleus reprimanded him. “Let’s continue in our way. We’re in the middle of the entrance.”

“Yes, my liege.” Sebek’s infuriated expression calmed down, and he followed him.

“I thought you were a goner!” Ace couldn’t help but laugh, his hands on his tummy.

“Do you think he heard? I don’t think I’ll be able to speak to him ever again.” meanwhile, you hid your face behind your palms.

“That’s what you get for subjecting me to your lovesick babble.” Ace poked your side. “If it serves to console you, he didn’t seem angry. Then again, who knows what a prince is thinking.”

“Maybe I should go apologize.”

“Errh, it’s best not to bring up the topic again, in case he didn’t hear you. Maybe he was thinking of something else and didn’t notice it.” He shrugged and went back to eating his lunch before it got cold. “Do whatever will allow you to sleep better tonight.”

After this, sleeping tonight wasn’t something you were going to be doing much, that’s for certain.

You found yourself at the door of his club before you could decide whether confronting it was a good idea or not. You were just going to say hi and probe his reactions to decipher if he was mad or not. If there was any crackling of lightning happening, you knew that was your cue to run away…

“Prefect.”

Your hand stopped just before you could knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Your hand sweated while you turned the knob and stepped in with caution. You expected a rapid flash of lightning to strike you down the moment you stepped into the empty classroom; instead, Malleus had his hands occupied with stone sculpting tools. His movements ceased when his eyes found yours.

“Come closer. You won’t be able to hear me at that distance.”

You made it inside without being turned into a pile of ash. That was a good start.

“I doubt I’ll have any more visitors other than you this afternoon,” he surveyed you for a second. “You appear to be uneasy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you were quick to deflect. “Uh, you said something about having visitors now?”

“Well, of course. I placed an announcement about a gargoyle tour for today, but, as usual, there’s a lack of invitees. Other than you, that is.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t come here for that—besides, the tour could be interesting. You weren’t against the idea of dipping your toes into the history of gargoyles.

He must’ve noticed your contemplative expression, as he continued with a: “Or did you show up with other intentions?”

“I came here for the tour!” you blurted out. “I’ve always wondered what your club was like, and since you’re knowledgeable about gargoyles, I would like to listen more about them.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. Well then, let us begin.”

By the time the tour ended, your worries had gone to the back of your mind, as you were immersed in the eloquent manner Malleus carried his words and shared his vast knowledge in gargoyles.

“I didn’t know there was a difference between a gargoyle and a grotesque. Being honest, they looked pretty much the same to me.”

“Correct, don’t confound the two. Gargoyles are a lot more than mere decoration. Good to know the tour has served as a new acquisition of knowledge for you.”

“I don’t get why people don’t visit your club more often. You’re great at explaining stuff, and I didn’t know gargoyles had this much history behind them. If it were Trein trying to explain this to me in the slow voice he uses during lectures, I wouldn’t have retained half of what I just learned.”

“I agree. The world should appreciate gargoyles more. Now, I’ll hold a pop quiz for you.”

“Oh—”

“It’s in your interest to say the correct answer, or this will be the last time you see me in this hairstyle.”

“Huh?!”

As your thoughts reeled into the implications of his declaration, Malleus threw the first question.

“What does this particular gargoyle represent?”

“A-Ah, that one! The power of metamorphosis, right? The ability to transcend beyond mortal limitations to higher realms of consciousness...something like that.” You were 99% sure that was what Malleus said earlier.

“Why are gargoyle’s expressions, which are commonly regarded as terrifying, like that?”

That was an easier one. “To ward off evil spirits and protect the people.”

“Right answer, although too simple. It also serves as a reminder that actions have consequences,” the way his lips curved with a taunting smile made you think that he did hear you in the cafeteria after all. “Last question: Why do some gargoyles have wings while others don’t?”

This one took longer for you to come up with an answer. You had a faint memory of him explaining it, but it was brief.

“Was it because they’re located in higher to protect places like towers?”

“Interesting observation. They don’t always represent ubication, however. Wings could represent divinity. A lack of wings meant terrestrial creatures.”

“…Did I fail the pop quiz?”

“Even though you could’ve done better, your score is acceptable,” the corners of his mouth quirked up with a barely held back amused smile. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“I’m sorry for what happened during lunch.”

“Humans are skillful when it comes to deflecting from the truth, even when one’s inquiries are direct. I must admit, I welcome your honest opinion about my hairstyle today. Even if delivered in such an immodest fashion.”

“Did Lilia suggest the change in hairstyle?”

“He did.”

“He’s got a keen eye for this, then,” you nodded. “I… think it suits you. It’s a fresh look on you, which doesn’t take away your princely charms.”

“Princely charms…?” he placed a hand on his chin, in thought.

“I—”

“You sure know how to get in someone’s good graces.” He chuckled. “You’re welcome to thread your fingers into my hair. Just do not dishevel it too much, or I can’t promise what could happen to you if you do.”

Despite his ominous threat, Malleus leaned down to allow you better access to his head. With how close he was, a rush of ardor made you giddy, but you remained calm. You stretched your arm to caress the lush locks, your fingers threading into them. Cautious. His hair was well taken care of, the brush of the strands like silk against your skin.

“Last time anyone dared to caress my head that way was Lilia when I was still a child,” Malleus reminisced in a hushed tone. “Back then, I thought it was patronizing, to an extent. I don’t feel it that way now, however. How peculiar.

Malleus could be rather elusive at times, and, depending on what he would say, you weren’t sure you had understood him right. Yet, on this occasion, he wasn’t against your touches. That’s what you understood.

While in your thoughts, your fingers wandered close to an uncharted zone: the base of his horns.

By the time you noticed, it was late. Malleus raised his head to look at you, the change in his eyes evident.

If not for the pinkish flush taking hold of his cheeks, you would’ve thought you did something you shouldn’t have.

“You may proceed. I don’t…dislike the feeling,” he said, not moving away. If anything, he tilted his head closer to your hand. His throat emitted a low vibration, which you soon discovered was similar to a purr. Dragon fae could do that?

Your hands pressed against his chest when you felt him inch you towards a nearby desk, tools for carving forgotten near its edge.

“It appears that you aren’t aware of it, but my kind doesn’t lower their head to allow just anyone to touch their horns. They’re personal,” His slit pupils stared into yours, unwavering. “Why did you stop your hand? Do you not accept my advancements?”

You felt your mouth go dry with his towering presence. How he caged you in with his bigger figure, looming over you. “I do accept them!” you blurted out.

After you spoke, Malleus’s thumb caressed your lower lip, and his attention shifted there. Mere seconds after, his eyes closed as he leaned in, the message of what was about to happen clear enough. With your quickened heart, you reciprocated the oncoming affection.

It was unfair. Silky hair and soft lips unlike anything you’ve touched before. Typical of a dragon, Malleus soon grew impatient and greedy. Regardless of inexperience, the fervor in his heart made up for it. His fangs were in the way, numerous times threatening to break through your skin despite his efforts to keep the kiss prudent. You were addicted to the feeling of them creating subtle punctures, however.

His hand slithered behind your back to keep you upright; the space between your bodies became none. There was an obvious hardness concealed behind his pants that pushed and grinded against your body. The friction ignited pleasure. You lacked the constraint to avoid grinding against it, the pleasure straight to your clit.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, out of breath.

Malleus grabbed your legs and placed them around his hips; the push of his body into yours was stronger now. He moved in tandem with your grinding, the surge in pleasure hooking you to a nonstop movement. Your arms shot to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. His lips and teeth sought your neck to litter it with his own marks. The noise of the desk’s leg creaking against the floor faded to the background; you were close to coming.

His lips engulfed yours, your moan of his name swallowed by him.

In the meantime, you caught your breath and undid the purple belt around his body.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He watched you struggle to undress him, the waves of your orgasm still fresh.

“I need you,” you admitted, finally pushing the coat off his shoulders.

“Glad to oblige.”

He finished the work and nudged your legs open to stand in between them. Thick and long—specially long—his dick was erect with a hefty amount of precum on its head. The size might be a little intimidating, but given how wet you were, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Malleus enclosed you, keeping his arms rigid to prop himself on top of your torso; his ponytail cascaded down his shoulder. You were tempted to reach out and brush your fingers in it. Maybe on another occasion.

A hand went to yours to hold it, which caused you to dart a glance at him, in question. His hand engulfed yours to near completion; if the difference in size wasn’t evident enough from height, this consolidated it. Meanwhile you marveled, Malleus jutted until it was inside of you, pushing your walls to accommodate him. It was no laughing matter—his cock prodded into the deepest part of your cunt, and yet, a couple of inches remained outside.

Malleus squeezed your hand with reassurance, taking note of your breathless state.

Backing down wasn’t an option for you. You needed him. Even if the stretch tiptoed close to pain, this—you wanted it. Even if the buzz from your previous orgasm still thrummed in your body and your clit was tender, you hugged his frame with your legs and offered the final push that remained to take him in until the base. At your encouragement, Malleus huffed from the surge in pleasure, eyes closed to embrace the feeling.

You canted your hips upwards to meet his thrusts; the creaking of the desk’s leg restarted its noise. Malleus gripped your hand with more fervor, lost in pleasure and forgetting about it. In turn, you gave his a firm squeeze. His chest heaved with deep breaths, a low groan making its way out every couple of seconds. He lowered until your chests were squeezed together, the hand that held your hip snaking to the back and grasping your shoulder to impel you harder. The rhythmic onslaught kindled your libido. One step away from the climax.

You came undone beneath him a second time; he didn’t stand a chance with how your pussy clamped down around him. His lips parted with a silent gasp as he came too, viscous cum pumped inside and coating your walls.

“Mal—” Your voice came at a higher pitch than you’re used to. He already came, but his thrusts haven’t stopped. They were slow and deliberate, not allowing a single drop to slip away from your cunt.

He dipped his head to kiss you, his lips encased yours. Albeit less frenetic, it wasn’t any less loving.  Just now, you remember your intertwined hands.

“I’m sorry,” you had dug your nails quite fervently. “I didn’t notice.”

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” 

“Ah…”

“Next time, when you harbor thoughts of such forward nature, I’d appreciate it more if you cofessed them to me only.”

[rollingeevee]

What did the minions first think of darling for both beast and ancient cookies

SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE! Been feeling not super amazing health wise so I took a small unannounced hiatus (sorry about that) and am still a lil iffy so will probs be slow for at least a couple more weeks ^^;

Now onto the answer!

For the minions we have so far (Cloud Haetae, Nutmeg Tiger, Candy Apple, Black Sapphire), I can say this

Cloud Haetae Cookie:

• I have a feeling they instantly became attached!

• Their master seems really fond of you, so that means they should adore you, right?

• Adoption time? Adoption time- aidhcj

• They are at your beck and call, more than happy to serve you in any way they can! Except for escape, of course. That would upset their master.

• They love being around you in general. Mystic Flour is not very outwardly affectionate, but you make up for that and give them plenty of attention.

Nutmeg Tiger Cookie

• I don’t see her liking you at first, perhaps seeing you as unworthy of The Great Destroyer. What ploy did you use to make him so infatuated with you?

• Burning Spice is quick to shut down any hostility she may have towards you. The only reason he didn’t crumble her right then and there was because you begged him not to.

• She felt a lil indebted to you afterwards, and given how quickly fierce and angered Burning Spice became over a small glare your way, she knew you were here to stay

• She tried to make it up to The Great Destroyer and you by offering to train you and help you become stronger, something you accepted and that Burning Spice approved of

• Tho she’s a lil gung ho when it comes to fighting and serving the Great Destroyer, her company is the closest thing you can consider to normal in your new life as the recipient of Burning Spice’s bite

Candy Apple Cookie

• Oh boy she hated you at first. Technically still does

• She adores Shadow Milk and has always desired his attention, and here you are with just stealing it away without any effort?! UGH!

• Shadow Milk is quick to notice her attitude,, but leaves it be. A test to see if she’s smart enough to obey his desires and leave you alone.

• A test she fails.

• She had never been punished as severely as when she tried to bring harm to you. She was lucky Shadow Milk didn’t crumble her. Her only saving grace was how much you seemed to like her and tried to get along with her. One of the few tethers keeping you compliant for the moment.

• This did not get rid of her jealousy, but it did pacify her. She tolerates you at most.

Black Sapphire Cookie

• Black Sapphire is a follower of Shadow Milk above all else. If Shadow Milk says you are to remain in the Spire, that is where you are to be. If Shadow Milk wants you attached at his hip, Black Sapphire will do his best to ensure you remain there.

• He’s not necessarily fond of you per se- not any more than he needs to be at least.

• Shadow Milk trusts Black Sapphire around you much more than he does Candy Apple, and allows Black Sapphire to get physically close to you and attend to you when he himself cannot, but he’s a fickle contradiction. He allows the close proximity but gets grumbly about it later. You can’t win with this guy ughhhhh

• Anything his Lord Shadow Milk wants, he gets. Shall he attend to you while Shadow Milk is busy? Of course! Oh- he needs to leave- ok-

• Unlike Candy Apple, Black Sapphire is fully aware of what you are, including your importance to his master. He’s been around longer, knows what that mark on you means, what that possessive attitude entails. I feel when Black Sapphire was younger, he might have been bratty with one of or perhaps Shadow Milk’s very first bitten, something he quickly learned was a no no, much like Candy Apple.

• And as much as Candy Apple annoys him, she’s still his sister, and he does his brotherly duties to make sure she doesn’t do anything too stupid and get herself killed by their master

[yoyomomiko]

WHAT ARE UR HEADCANONS 4 DAISUKE X READER??????

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader

Warnings: a lil cringe, maybe some cursing, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, ENGLISH isn't my first language!!

(A/N): OMG I LOVE DAISUKE😍😍 ANYWAYS THIS IS KINDA SHORT AND RUSHED BECAUSE I WAS EXCITED TO WRITE THIS I'M SO SORRY👉👈 -> m.list

★CRUSHING/CONFESSION

Hear me out, you fell first he fell harder.

I am very confident that at first he didn't even realize he himself had a crush on you... Like, he wanted to make you laugh more than he wanted to to the others, he always wanted to help you and be there for you... So, he pieced two and two together, and figured out that he actually was in love with you.

If he were to tell someone (probably not) it would OFCCC be our nice old man Swansea☺️

You see, Daisuke is very... Uhm, an idiot, so he won't understand when you're flirting with him. That's just him, he's too dense. You have to speak up, or else he won't pick up.

He always cracks jokes around you just to try and make you laugh😀

But like, it's so obvious he likes you

He's following you like a lost puppy, eager to please you in ANY way.

He's crushing on you so hard...

You kinda notice it since he just helps you with everything, offering help with your chores or just anything in general.

HE THINKS HE'S HIDING IT SOOO WELL BUT IN REALITY AT LEAST SOMEBODY CAUGHT UP TO IT (probably Swansea duh)

Let's say he's the one to confess first...

He would do it on accident for SURE. Do what you will with that information, let your imagination get ahead of you😍 (I'm actually lazy that's why I didn't write it but yeah whatever sue ME)

So then, he realizes what he said and then you also confess and BOOM, he's all over you. Good luck trying to get rid of him (who tf would do that🤨)

★DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

This man will go show you off the moment you two have an established relationship (unless you don't wanna)

RANTS TO SWANSEA ABOUT YOU

No but fr Swansea's probably tired of hearing him babble about you, he seriously had to force him to shut up just for a small moment of peace. BUT he secretly likes the fact that Daisuke is happy so like🤭

Daisuke is a really energetic guy so I feel like if you match his vibe he's never gonna let you go

LISTEN TO MEEE, he loves both physical affection AND words of affirmation, he's big on BOTH.

If he could, he would hold your hand forever, NEVER would he let go of you. He wants to hold you, close, for as long as possible.

If you decide at some point to sleep in the same bed, you will get cuddles every single night.

Big spoon or little spoon, he doesn't care. Just TOUCH him, in ANY way, he doesn't care and doesn't mind just do it!!

OMG PRAISE HIM

He always searches for your compliments, just PRAISE HIM please, tell him you're proud of him or something IDKKKK

"Did I do good?" "I'm doing great, right?"

UGH if there's something he loves most about you (he would kiss every inch of your body but whatevs) it's definetly your laugh.

Okay, maybe it's the way you praise him at the end of each day.

Okay, no, MAYBE it's the way you play with his hair while he slowly drifts to sleep from your soothing touch.

Okay, maybe he just loves you wholeheartedly and would do anything for you (he's whipped)

I imagine that he seeks out for head pats. Just pat his head. Pet him or sum idk ask him.

While in bed, he definitely headbutts your palm just to let you know what he wants. Cause like at first he just nudges you but if you don't get the hint, he'll straight up headbutt your hand (I saw someone say this and I love you for that)

CALL HIM A GOOD BOY UGHHH

Lowkey imagine if you called him a good boy tho that's crazy

I have to say that I think Daisuke, as much of a dumbass as he is, listens very well.

He's surprisingly very good at comforting you

He might now understand you, but he listens, and tries his best

TELL HIM YOU'RE PROUD OF HIM OMG

He's gonna find cheesy nicknames for you so buckle up >⁠.⁠<

Daisuke LOVES kissing you, there, I said it.

Whether it's a small peck on the cheek or a full on make out session, he's gonna enjoy it and THANK you.

He sometimes wonders how he pulled you ngl🤨

If like, some sort of small argument got in between you, he'll be apologizing on his knees and begging you to forgive him with snot running down

Imagine you called him a good boy that'd lowkey be crazy

If you somehow ever decide to wear a piece of clothing that belongs to him, it WILL be yours.

He's gonna squeal like a school girl and compliment youuu

Overall 10/10 boyfriend. He's sweet, charismatic, energetic, a bit of an airhead, kisses the ground you walk on, and bonus for being handsome.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[bueckersworld]

remind me

───୨ৎ.. synopsis trapped in a messy, off-the-record situationship, you and paige keep coming back to each other — through drunken arguments, accusations of cheating, and nights that feel like love but end in silence. she’s possessive, you’re fed up, but somehow, you’re both addicted to the chaos. maybe it’s toxic. maybe it’s love. maybe it’s both.

───୨ৎ.. content warnings toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, cheating accusations, mutual jealousy, alcohol use, unhealthy attachment, implied casual sex

───୨ৎ.. a/n the song ‘remind me’ by givēon has been stuck in my head help.

word count: 3k info. masterlist. taglist.

you don’t even remember how it started. not really.

one minute you were just her friend — the next, you were waking up in her bed with your shirt inside out and her fingers still wrapped around your wrist like she was scared you’d vanish.

paige was never good at saying how she felt. but she was great at pulling you in, better at holding on, and damn near perfect at pretending none of it meant anything afterward.

except it did.

it always did.

you’re at a house party when it happens again — that thing you swore you were both done doing.

you’re tipsy, laughing with someone she doesn’t know. someone tall. someone with dimples. he touches your arm, and suddenly she’s there, drink in hand, jaw locked tight.

“having fun?” she mutters, voice low enough to be a threat.

you glance up, cheeks warm, heart sinking. “paige…”

“i’m just asking,” she shrugs, but her eyes don’t match the calm. “looked like you were ready to go home with him.”

“he’s literally just talking—”

“right,” she snaps, stepping closer. “that’s what you always say before you fuck someone else.”

your mouth falls open. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

it’s not even the first time she’s accused you of cheating. it never matters that you haven’t. the moment someone else looks at you, she sees red.

you storm off, out the back door, into the cold night. the music is still thumping behind you, muffled by the walls, and your pulse is just as loud.

she follows, of course.

“you gonna deny it again?” she scoffs.

“there’s nothing to deny,” you bark, turning to face her. “why do you always do this?”

paige throws her hands up, frustration pouring out of her like smoke from a fire. “because i know what this is, okay? you talk to other people like i don’t exist. you kiss me, fuck me, and then pretend you don’t know what we are. i’m tired of it.”

“you’re tired?” you laugh bitterly. “you’re the one who told me this wasn’t serious.”

“yeah, well,” she says, voice cracking. “i lied.”

the air stills. you blink.

she’s drunk — you both are. that’s the only reason this is happening. she’ll take it back tomorrow. just like she always does.

“you don’t get to be possessive and careless,” you whisper. “pick one.”

her jaw clenches. “i’m not careless.”

“then what are we, paige?” you ask. “tell me right now, because i’m done being whatever you want in the dark and nothing in the light.”

silence.

you should leave. go home. end this for real this time.

but you don’t. because the truth is, she reminds you of everything you hate about yourself. every selfish decision, every reckless night. she’s the mirror you keep smashing and taping back together.

and somehow, when she looks at you, you feel whole.

later, you’re in her apartment again. same old scene: you sitting on her counter, her standing between your legs, lips on your neck, hands under your shirt like she needs to memorize your skin before it disappears.

“don’t leave,” she whispers against your throat. “not tonight.”

you don’t say anything. you just nod.

the morning is cold and quiet.

you wake up tangled in her sheets, mascara smudged, breath stale. paige is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone like she’s reading something she shouldn’t be.

you sit up. “what’s wrong?”

she doesn’t answer right away.

“paige.”

she looks over, eyes hard. “who’s noah?”

you freeze. “what?”

“your texts,” she says. “from last week.”

your stomach flips. “you went through my phone?”

“you left it open. don’t act like i hacked it.”

you sigh, fingers pressing into your temple. “he’s nobody. i vented to him about you one night. that’s it.”

“he said, ‘you deserve someone who actually gives a damn about you.’”

your heart drops. “it wasn’t like that.”

paige gets up, starts pacing.

“i do give a damn,” she says quietly. “you just don’t let me.”

you stand, slowly. “because when i do, you crush it. you pull me in, then shut me out. you get jealous of people i don’t even care about, and then you act like i’m the problem.”

she laughs bitterly. “maybe we both are.”

and she’s right.

you’re just as toxic as she is. you poke where it hurts. you kiss her when you know you should walk away. you let her take your clothes off and call it nothing, then pretend it didn’t ruin you the next day.

you both confuse love with possession, and loyalty with obsession.

but still — she reminds you.

of how it felt the first time. of how easy it was to fall. of how impossible it’s been to stop.

two nights later, she shows up at your apartment, drunk again. hoodie too big, hair messy, that broken look in her eyes like she’s trying to apologize without speaking.

you let her in.

of course you do.

“i saw you with him again,” she says.

you don’t answer. you’re too tired to fight.

“he looks at you like he wants something he doesn’t deserve.”

you turn to her, voice sharp. “and what do you think you deserve, paige?”

“i don’t know,” she admits, and her voice is so small it almost kills you. “but i know i want you anyway.”

there’s a beat of silence before she adds:

“i don’t want to share you.”

you should hate her for that. you should tell her you’re not a thing to be had. but instead, you whisper, “then stop treating me like a secret.”

she nods, like she finally understands what it’s going to take. like she knows it’s not enough to just want you — she has to choose you, even when it’s hard. especially when it’s hard.

she walks over, cradles your face in her hands, and kisses you like it’s the last time — but it never is.

because somehow, even after everything, you keep coming back.

maybe it’s the way she touches you like you’re home.

maybe it’s the way you ruin each other perfectly.

maybe it’s because deep down, you’re the same — all messy emotion and sharp edges and soft apologies whispered too late.

whatever it is, it’s yours.

and she reminds you.

of who you were.

of who you are.

of why you’ll never really let her go.

even when you should.

© bueckersworld

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @slt4kavanagh @kl0verk @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @asapeveryday @avvwritesstufff @rand0mmmgg

[alexlwrites]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: thank god this has been ready for months for my ko-fi crew because i have serious writer's block and everything i touch becomes garbage - like an anti-midas, one might say

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 - 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦

(<<< part three)

“I need a good reason.”

“If you need a good reason to do something, then maybe you should consider not doing it.”

After your not so friendly get-together the previous night, Jungkook had gone home with a pounding headache and a heartburn he refused to associate with disappointment, choosing instead to blame it on the half sweet, half savory atrocious bucket of popcorn he inhaled between sobs.

A good reason. Where on earth would he find one of those? He had never needed much more than “because I want to” to justify his antics, and life seemed to work out just fine when he just kept following his every whim with little to no justification.

Your words had sent him once more into a philosophical spiral that had him questioning his very existence - funny how you seemed to be able to do that with such ease, unblinking and unflinching with a self satisfied smirk. At the height of his college age, Jungkook now needed to find a reason to do things? A good one, at that? Preposterous. 

And so, as he usually did in moments of great distress and moral conundrum, Jungkook seeked the help of his wisest friend, who certainly would be able to guide him to the right decision.

Yoongi was hunched over a duct-taped laptop when Jungkook found him, with eyes swollen and bloodshot like he hadn’t known sleep or peace in his past three lives. His shirt was covered in unidentifiable crumbs and his fingers permanently bent in a keyboard-caused claw, but Jungkook knew that under that goblin-like music production major appearance, hid a well of decades-old knowledge.

“I need a good reason to want to go out with this girl.”

Yoongi paused his typing to stare at his younger friend. “You… What?”

“I want this girl to go out with me and she said I need a good reason.” Jungkook repeated like it made the matter any clearer.

“And what is your current reason to go out with her?”

“Spite.”

“Right, of course.” Honestly, at that point, Yoongi should’ve known better than to expect anything else from his dongsaeng. 

“What is a good reason to go out with a girl?”

“Because you like her?”

Jungkook thought about the constant urge to rip out his hair and stab himself with a spork when you were around. “What else?”

“That’s pretty much all I ever needed.”

“Well, how do you know if you like a girl?”

“Aren’t you a bit too old to be asking that? Have you never had a crush on someone?” 

“Does Jessica Rabbit count?” 

Yoongi did not answer, just stared open mouthed at his friend who never ceased to surprise him. He was way too tired and way too swamped with assignments to truly begin to comprehend the depth of the psychological damage those questions indicated. Was this the result of being too loved at home, he wondered? Did Jungkook’s nice childhood build him no character? 

“When you’re with a girl” Jungkook continued, not bothered by his friend’s concerned astonishment “what are the things that make you think damn I really like her?”

Shrugging, Yoongi turned back to his wheezing laptop, deciding that it was best not to give much thought to whatever shenanigan Jungkook had brewing. He had learned that it was best to get involved as little as possible when it came to his schemes. “I don’t know, is she hot?”

You were scorching. When Jungkook first ran his fingers through your thighs in a soft caress that had goosebumps rising, he didn’t expect to find your skin so warm to the touch. Your presence enough was verging on stifling, but your weight on top of him and your blackberry-tasting lips pressed against his had him lightheaded and gasping for air, palms tingling from where it met your skin. You on his lap were an all encompassing experience that surrounded his senses. He felt you everywhere and the way you grinded down on him before separating slightly had him whining not unlike a desperately thirsty man in a desert. This is ambrosia, he thought, a term he learned from you.

When he looked up at you, everything intensified and he had to hold back the urge to buck up his hips and push you down on him. Your skin glistened and your lips were swollen from his bites, pupils twice the normal size. He allowed his hands to travel up your body, from where your thighs spilled from your shorts up to your abdomen, feeling the muscle spasm underneath his touch and your hips twitch when he climbed higher, reaching underneath your shirt in a way that had you falling back onto him, searching for his kisses as he pinched your…

Jungkook coughed, fixing his pants and shifting uncomfortably. “Well, yes” he answered at last.

Yoongi continued “Is she smart?”.

“What 's this?” Jungkook asked, poking around your coffee table as you took off your shoes and set your keys in a ceramic bowl.

“A book” you said smiling. “Are you not familiar with the concept?” 

“Haha” he laughed sarcastically. He flipped around the book, only interested in it due to the golden foil in the cover. “Are you… Enjoying it?” He tried to make small talk, unsure how to approach you now that you’ve reached your apartment after an hour-long make out session in the back seat of his car that had him harder than a brick.

You reached out, taking his hand and guiding him to your couch, long nails tracing lines on his palms “Yes, I am. It gives an interesting perspective on how mortality impacts our behaviours.”

He blinked rapidly, too distracted by your touch and the sight of you in those shorts sitting so closely once more. “Right” he agreed absentmindedly “mortality, sure. It impacts… What?”

You laughed and even though it was at him, he could tell it was one of those rare non-mean spirited laughs that he didn’t get the chance to see often and that softened your face into something that twisted his stomach into perfect boy-scouts knots.  

“Think of The Eternals, right? That Marvel movie. They live forever. Imagine seeing humanity through their eyes” your hand kept drawing patterns up his arms, voice soothing as you traced his biceps and Jungkook felt as if he was being hypnotized. “Imagine watching these beings tear themselves apart about things that, to you, last a little longer than a blink. Do you feel pity? Curiosity?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I would feel jealousy.”

“You would?”

“Yes” you climbed on his lap, digging your fingers into his long hair and Jungkook thought it was the weirdest seduction technique ever, lecturing him about ephemerality while grinding down on his bulge, but goddamnit it was working. “When you live that long, you lose sight of how precious it is to actually live, because you watch things die with such unnerving frequency. What importance do your actions have if you outlive all the consequences?” Jungkook wouldn’t know how to answer that even if you weren’t kissing his neck, leaving him distracted and incapable of coherent thoughts, more so than usual. “If you’re mortal, time and death and decay give you a constant sense of urgency that intensifies everything and” you peck your way up to his lips and by then Jungkook is unable to identify your words “if you can die at any given moment, you have to enjoy things while they last.”

“So?” Yoongi called, waking Jungkook from his daydream.

“Oh, yes. She’s smart” he said. “Way too smart, actually, like, it might be a problem.”

“Maybe she’s the one that needs a good reason to be with you then.” Yoongi smirked as Jungkook flipped him off “Is she nice?”

Jungkook scoffed “No.”

“Is that why you like her?”

Jungkook felt like that answer would give his psychoanalytic friend too much ammo, so he remained quiet.

But kind of, yeah.

Wait…

Yoongi smiled, cheshire-like “So you do like her.”

“No!” The younger man denied “I’m just… I don’t know, intrigued! She’s hot, rude, smart, weird and hates my guts…”

“Sounds like one hell of a woman. Have you given her any reason to hate you? Actually, never mind, I know the answer to that.”

Jungkook didn’t have it in him to be offended. His friend was right. 

“Look, man, I’m not gonna validate whatever weird thing you’ve got going on with this girl. I have enough hanging over my head without the probable gnawing guilt. If you like this girl, really like her, you already have enough of a reason.” 

“But is it a good one?”

“That’s not up to me, is it?”

***

Jungkook decided that he was going to spend a weekend focusing on other matters. You had taken over his mind and schedule and he needed a break to think about something besides your smirk and demands. So he visited his parents, who lived less than an hour away and decided to join them watching his little sister’s soccer game in his old middle school in an attempt to clear his head.

Minha, his sister, wasn’t particularly gifted in the sport, but, much like her brother, she was driven and dedicated to everything she set her mind to. And, as it was the curse of all younger siblings, she was filled with unimaginable violence and anger, knocking down other little girls like a WWE fighter. 

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t know where she got that from. But it was amusing to watch the little ankle biter mow her way through the field and yell at the referee until the tired middle aged dad volunteering that day threatened her with a yellow card.

When the game ended in a close call victory to her team, he stepped out from the bleachers to meet her, avoiding the throng of small children on his way to congratulate his sister. When he got there, he was greeted by the one sight he was hoping to avoid on his weekend of peace.

You.

More importantly, you, hugging Minha while wearing a bigger version of her team’s jersey. You were crouching down to her level, saying something he could not hear while petting the girl’s hair, a kind smile he had never seen hanging from your lips that died as soon as you noticed him.

But before you could say something, Minha ran to her brother, climbing up his arms like she did when she was much younger. “Kookie!” she greeted “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see your big victory, Champ” he said, messing her hair affectionately. “Y/N” he greeted carefully.

You nodded with a tight lip smile “Jeon.”

“You two know each other?” Minha asked, gesturing to be put back on the ground.

“We go to the same school, Min.” you answered, noticing the similarities between the both of them to make an educated guess. Siblings. Of course your favorite little gremlin was related to your least favorite gremlin. 

“The same school? But you’re so much smarter than him!”

Jungkook sighed as you held back your laughter “Yeah, yeah. At least I’m not stinky like you. Don’t you have a shower to take? Hit the lockers, mom and dad are waiting for us.”

His disrespectful sister gave him a look before leaving that she could only have learned from you. “At least I know what deodorant is. You still don’t!” 

Jungkook sometimes wished he were an only child, but he knew that would’ve caused even more irreparable damage to his personality.

“She’s cute.” you commented, picking a backpack from the floor.

“The cutest” he agreed sardonically. “What are you doing here?”

“I volunteer as one of the managers to the girl’s team on the weekend.”

Taken aback, he asked “Why?”

“Because I want to?”

“Like, voluntarily?”

“That is what volunteer means, yes.” you started heading to the exit as he followed you absentmindedly, almost without noticing. “Despite what you might believe, I don’t enjoy torturing young girls.”

“Just grown men.”

“You consider yourself grown? Interesting.” You paused, as if considering if you should share something or not. “When I was a little girl, my team got booted because there weren’t enough staff for the girl’s sports. I didn’t want it to happen to this one and I needed the extracurricular hours. Plus, I’m the youngest of three. It’s nice to be the big sister for once.”

Jungkook thought of the booger picking, 4 feet bully he shared parents with. “I don’t know if nice it’s the word I would use.” 

“Well, for me it is. I like looking after these girls and I don’t want their hobbies to be taken away from them just because no one seems to care as much when it’s women kicking the ball. They deserve the chance to become good.”

You seemed so passionate about the subject that Jungkook refrained from commenting that some kids had a bit of work before they came even close to good. Even so, he was glad Minha had you and sad that he didn’t step up for his little sister like you did. 

“Is she nice?” Yoongi had asked and Jungkook replied readily. But now, watching you fix the little girls’ hair and help them with their shoes, he wasn’t so sure. 

Clearly, the problem wasn’t that you were nice. You just weren’t nice to him and the weight of knowing he did nothing to deserve you niceties started setting on him.

Maybe he really did need a good reason. But maybe, just maybe, first he had to be good himself, and he wasn’t so sure he had been. And watching you greet his own parents with a winning smile while handing them his little sister’s bag made him wonder how he could become at least good enough.

°•. ✿ .•°

✿ My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

epilogue: where's the trophy

NOTE: ending the year with the very last update for kmh 🙇‍♀️ thank you very much for being patient and waiting for more than a year!! i'm so thankful and grateful for all of you 💗 i hope everyone has a great year ahead ^^ - ri <3

Short of breath, Scaramouche's eyes paced back and forth, from one direction to another, rapid blinks in between.

The timer.

03:00

Then the scoreboard.

TNU UI 1 1

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He has very little time to seal the game. What's worse, it's the opponent's ball right now. They're at a disadvantage. If someone from the other team manages to score, it's all over.

They're going to lose. Even in his last game.

He could hear the roaring drums from the two cheering teams. He could hear the clashing cheers from both sides. He could hear the narrations of the game commentators.

Hell, he could even hear his own heart.

It was beating—no, it was ringing. Whether it was due to adrenaline, exhaustion, or anxiousness, he couldn't tell.

He took deep breaths. Get your head back in the game, stupid.

He was near the mid-field line, making his position decent. He was quite confident in his ability to make himself available for both options — he can aid in defense, if need be, or he can go for the offensive if the ball manages to get near the goal.

Everyone in the field, including himself, is already exhausted. Every single one of them is running on adrenaline alone.

01:37

"Fuck," he uttered once he noticed that TNU's ace and forward, Xiao, has already managed to position himself near the penalty area. "You better fucking stop him, Heizou."

As if Heizou heard his captain's orders from a distance, he dashed, speedily locking on to the teal-haired male. "No you don't."

"Calm down. I don't even have the ball yet," Xiao replied.

Heizou could not help laughing at how one of Xiao's teammates attempted to pass the ball to him moments after he just said that.

"'Yet?' It's not 'you don't have the ball yet'." He flashed a smile so warm yet so sinister. "You won't even be touching it."

01:01

Xiao moved, intending to receive the pass. Heizou did too. Xiao sped up, Heizou did too. Xiao blocked Heizou with one arm as he ran, the other did too.

"You're annoying."

"Well, thank you." Heizou grinned. "It's my job to annoy strikers, you see."

"You're doing a very good job."

"You're really flattering me here, you know. I'd blush if you weren't my opponent."

Despite a certain someone making it hard for him, Xiao had managed to make his way near the ball. 'Only a hair's breadth away,' he thought. 'I can reach it.'

A much more solid block from Heizou.

Then a heavy, foreign-sounding, decisive step.

In the blink of an eye, Xiao's clear view of the ball was replaced with a blinding scene — one that radiated of long, golden hair. The only thing that came between him and the goal that he was so close to scoring.

"I'll be taking this now, ace," Aether declared with a smirk. "I'm afraid our captain wasn't really blessed with patience."

Heizou beamed. "Nice save, Ae."

The blonde nodded in response.

00:39

Scaramouche, being aware of what had just transpired, positioned himself a little closer to the area where he knew it'd be possible to for him to score.

It was a little farther, yes. But he trusted in Aether and his ability to send him the ball, wherever he is.

00:32

"Scara!" Aether's yell pierced from across the stadium, followed by a resounding noise from the intensity of his kick. The crowd collectively gasped in awe; eyes locked onto the ball that is now spiraling from one side of the field to the other.

Scaramouche leaped into the air, flawlessly cushioning the ball with his torso. "Good fucking boy," Scaramouche whispered with a grin.

00:28

00:24

00:20

Scaramouche could not feel nor hear nor see anything else, except himself, the ball, and the goal. He was now on the left side of the penalty area. He swore he managed to pass by a man with teal braids who tried to block him earlier too, but everything was a blur.

All he knows is he has to get this one shot in.

00:18

And there he was, Scaramouche's last hurdle.

Looking as big of an annoyance as ever. The dependable captain of the other team. The notable and talented goalkeeper. His greatest obstacle.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

Your older brother.

00:14

Scaramouche stalled in order to pace himself. The man standing at the goal was a formidable foe, he could not rush his decisions.

Think. Think. Think.

00:13

Fuck.

Kunikuzushi, think!

00:12

God, please.

00:11

As if on cue, a certain blonde friend of his made his presence known, finally managing to catch up near his captain's position. "Here!"

00:10

Without hesitation, Scaramouche swiftly positioned himself and got ready to pass, alerting the other defenders, and even the goalie. Even Aether prepared himself to receive it.

00:09

Scaramouche hit the ball, causing it to roll in Aether's direction, who was at the right side of the penalty area.

00:08

The defenders flocked to where Aether was, ready to block the ball once it reaches them.

00:07

Kazuha shifted a little to the right, in anticipation for what Aether might do. Scaramouche caught it.

00:06

The raven-haired man took a deep breath, then forced his body to move lightly and quickly, barely managing to catch up to the ball that he kicked himself.

00:05

A light tap, and the ball stops.

00:04

Kazuha's eyes widen upon realization, scrambling to get to the opposite side of the goal. But it was too late.

Scaramouche, the one in the blue jersey #03, has already kicked the ball.

00:03

Please.

00:02

He gulped as he saw Kazuha's outstretched hands. 'Please don't reach it,' he mentally begged.

00:01

Please make it. My goal.

00:00

Scaramouche drew a breath as the sound of the ball hitting the net echoed throughout the silent field.

And for a second, he stood still.

The buzzer rang.

Cheers were chanted. Drums echoed, and crowds roared.

His teammates were running towards him.

But he was running to you.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

prev . masterlist .

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

[mirrored-muse]

Hi! Can you do something where the yellowjackets want a day to relax but shauna is shauna 💀

But they notice how she is always trying to be close to reader and is soft on her and all of that, so they beg reader to go and seduce shauna

Reader is like: NO SHES SCARY AND HATES ME

But it happens anyways

Imagine van making sure everything is going fine with the plan by listening outside of shaunas hut 😭

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 959

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʜɪ, ᴛʏꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ. 🙏🙏 ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ. 😭 ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ. <3

Shauna’s on edge again.

You feel it before she even says a word, like a storm rolling in from the trees. Her footsteps are too fast, her voice too clipped, the way she glares at everyone like they’re one breath away from pissing her off. You’re by the fire with Van, Tai, and Mari, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut.

“She’s pacing again,” Tai mutters, glancing over her shoulder.

“Maybe she’s just bored,” you offer, not really believing it.

Van snorts. “She’s not bored. She’s stewing.”

“About what?” Mari asks. “We haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “We’re not doing anything. She hates that.”

You follow their gaze to where Shauna is stalking past the tree line, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She’s been like that all day, snapping at Akilah for burning part of the squirrel meat and muttering to herself when Lottie suggested a group meditation session.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Van says under her breath, eyeing you. “Unless someone distracts her.”

Mari raises a brow. ���You volunteering?”

“Hell no.”

Then everyone else turns to look at you.

You blink. “What?”

Tai smirks. “She listens to you.”

“She doesn’t listen. She just… isn’t as mean to me.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “You have the magic touch.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Oh, come on,” Mari says. “Just go in there and flirt a little. She chills out. We get a break.”

“Do you hear yourselves?” you say. “You want me to go flirt with Oshauna bin Laden.”

Van laughs and leans in, shaking her head, “She likes you.”

You freeze, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Come on. You haven’t noticed?” Tai says, kicking a stick into the fire. “She follows you around like a guard dog.”

“She’s always watching you,” Van adds. “And not in the ‘I hate you’ way. In the ‘I’m obsessed with you and I don’t know how to process human emotions’ way.”

Your mouth goes dry. You glance toward Shauna again, now crouched near her hut, sharpening a knife like it personally offended her.

“She’s scary,” you say.

“Yeah,” Van agrees. “But maybe she’d be less scary if she got, you know… a little attention.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you seriously trying to pimp me out right now?”

“We’re asking you to flirt with a girl who you already know wants you,” Mari says. “Not take a bullet.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fine. But if she guts me, I’m haunting all of you.”

Van grins and gives you a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit.”

⸻

You approach her hut slowly like she might lunge at you if you move too fast. Shauna doesn’t look up when you duck past the flap of hide covering the entrance of her hut. She’s crouched over something, knives or bones or both. Her hair’s a little tangled, her brow furrowed in that way that makes her look even more pissed off than she probably is.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

She glances up, then back down. “What?”

Okay. Off to a great start.

You shift awkwardly. “Just, uh… checking in.”

Shauna snorts. “You sound like Lottie.”

You smile nervously. “That bad, huh?”

She finally looks at you. Really looks. Her eyes soften a fraction.

“What do you want?” she asks, slightly less hostile this time.

You inch closer, trying to sell the whole flirty angle, though it feels like walking a tightrope with a bear below you.

“I don’t know. Everyone’s been a little stir-crazy. Thought maybe you could use some company.”

Shauna stares at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her.

“I’m fine,” she says. “They should stop acting like this is summer camp.”

“You ever think maybe you’re wound a little too tight?”

Her eyes narrow. “Is that why you’re here? They send you in to fix me?”

You’re busted.

You scramble. “No- well, kind of. But also… I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Shauna blinks.

You take a risk and step closer, sitting down across from her. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that unreadable expression.

“I don’t think you need to be “fixed”,” you say quietly.

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty scared right now.”

You bite your lip. “I’m not scared. Just… cautious. You’re intense.”

Shauna leans forward slightly. “You want me to back off?”

“No,” you say, heart pounding. “I want you to stop acting like you don’t care.”

Silence fills the air for a moment.

Shauna’s jaw clenches. Then slowly, she sets the knife down beside her.

“I don’t care about them,” she says. “But you? I don’t know what to do with you.”

You meet her eyes, a small smile on your lips. “You could try kissing me?”

For half a second, she doesn’t move, just stares at you. Then she does, fast, rough, and hungry. Her hand tangles in your shirt, pulling you in, and her mouth crashes against yours like she’s been holding back for weeks. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle.

It’s desperate.

You kiss her back just as hard, fisting the front of her shirt, tugging her closer until you’re both on your knees, pressed against each other.

Outside, leaves crunch. Someone stumbles back from the hut.

You inwardly groan, knowing it’s Van.

You pull back, breathless. Shauna’s eyes are blown wide, her cheeks flushed.

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head toward the flap of hide in the doorway.

“Someone’s listening,” she mutters.

You smile. “Should’ve known they’d send a chaperone.”

Shauna smirks. Then she slides her hands under your shirt, gripping your bare hip firmly. Possessive.

“Let her listen.”

[maskedbyghost]

When the Walls Fall (p.1)

Summary: Simon’s never been great at dealing with feelings, especially when they come out of nowhere. From the moment he laid eyes on you, something shifted, but he did his best to keep it under wraps. It’s only when Price steps in, playing a little bit of matchmaker, that Simon’s forced to face what he’s been ignoring. Between the awkward tension, the attraction, and a little help from the Captain, maybe they’ll both figure out what’s been right in front of them all along. From this idea. Word count: 3.2 k

The first time Simon saw you, it was like taking a hit he hadn’t prepared for.

You walked onto base with the kind of confidence that made people take notice of you. Not cocky, just like you belonged there. And maybe you did. Maybe you were the best damn soldier to come through in a while, and maybe that should’ve been the only thing on his mind. But it wasn’t.

His eyes tracked you instinctively, taking in every detail before he could stop himself. The way you carried yourself, the focus in your eyes. And then you smiled at someone, and something in his chest clenched so hard it almost hurt.

Fuck.

He tore his gaze away, trying to shake the feeling, but Soap had already caught him.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Johnny muttered with an infuriating grin on his face.

“Shut it,” Simon grumbled, adjusting his gloves like that would somehow ground him.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Soap chuckled, nudging him with an elbow. “Just sayin’, she’s got somethin’, aye? And you—” He gestured vaguely. “You’re actin’ like a man who just got hit over the head with a brick.”

Simon rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the tension. “Fuck off, mate.”

“Sure,” Soap drawled. “But you still haven’t stopped starin’, mate.”

Simon forced himself to look away, hating the fact that Soap caught him. And, he had work to do. A mission to focus on. He didn’t have time for… whatever this was.

But deep down, he already knew.

It was already too late.

-

At first, you thought it was just you. Maybe you’d done something wrong, said something to set him off. Because from the moment you arrived, Simon had been… distant.

And not in the way he was with most people. With you, it felt different, like he was avoiding you. Short replies, barely a glance in your direction, and when he did look at you, it was intense. You’d catch him watching sometimes, but the second your eyes met, he’d look away like he hadn’t been staring at all.

If he was trying to make you feel unwelcome, it was working.

It was frustrating, because everyone else had settled into working with you just fine. Soap had been the first to extend a friendly hand, quickly making it clear that you were part of the team now. Gaz followed soon after, along with the rest of the squad. Even Price had given you one of his rare approving nods within the first week.

But Ghost?

Nothing but silence and cold shoulders.

You tried not to let it bother you, but it gnawed at the back of your mind. You’d worked with difficult teammates before, but this felt… personal.

“What’s his deal?” you asked Soap one evening after training, watching as Ghost disappeared into the barracks without a word.

Soap smirked, far too amused. “Who, Ghost?”

“Yes, Ghost. The one who acts like I’ve personally offended his ancestors.”

Soap let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, lass, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated, glancing toward where Ghost had gone. “Let’s just say he’s not great with… people.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

Before Soap could reply, Price strolled past, catching the tail end of your conversation. He gave you a knowing look, then turned to Soap. “Don’t worry about it,” Price said easily, clapping a hand on your shoulder before walking off.

You stared after him, baffled. Soap just chuckled and patted your arm. “You’ll figure it out.”

You had no idea what that meant. But as Ghost continued to avoid you like the plague, you were determined to get to the bottom of it.

-

A few days later, you found Ghost in the armory inspecting a rifle. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was trying to make himself invisible, shoulders hunched, attention fixed on anything that wasn’t you.

Too bad for him, you had a report to give, and he was the one who needed to hear it.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted, stepping up beside him. He stiffened, then turned his head slightly to acknowledge you, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours.

“Yeah?”

You shifted on your feet. “I’ve got intel from the last recon—needed to pass it along to you.”

Ghost nodded, setting down the rifle. “Go on.”

You started relaying the details, but something felt… off. He wasn’t cutting you off, wasn’t asking follow-up questions like he usually would. Instead, he was just standing there, unnervingly still, eyes fixed on you.

Really fixed on you.

His gaze was heavy, like he was committing every detail of your face to memory. And for someone usually so unreadable, he looked—hesitant.

“Lieutenant?” you prompted when he didn’t respond.

He blinked. Looked away. Cleared his throat. “Right. Uh. Continue.”

Your brow furrowed. He was acting weird, more than usual. Like he was barely processing the words coming out of your mouth.

You finished your report, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. Instead, Simon just nodded slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides.

“…So?” you pressed. “What do you think?”

He inhaled sharply, as if just realizing he was supposed to respond. “Sounds… good.”

You squinted. “Sounds good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

Another pause. Too long. He was still looking at you, and before you could call him out on it, another voice cut in.

“Perfect timing,” Price announced as he strode in, hands on his hips. “You two are headed out on assignment together.”

You blinked. “What?”

Price smirked. “Mission briefing in an hour. Gear up.” He clapped Ghost on the shoulder, giving him a look, then walked out, leaving you standing there, confused.

Ghost finally tore his gaze away from you, jaw tight. “Right. Mission.”

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was going to be interesting.

-

“Alright, listen up,” Price began, his voice steady as always. “This mission is straightforward. We’re monitoring a target—high-level intel. We need to keep eyes on them for the next few weeks. No interaction. Just observation and relay.”

He pointed to the satellite image of the target’s compound on the screen, then flipped to the next slide that showed the layout of the safe house. You and Simon exchanged a glance. The safe house was tiny, just a single building in the middle of nowhere.

“You two will be on the ground. The safe house is set up, but it’s basic. No room service here,” Price said with a small grin, clearly enjoying the discomfort he knew was coming. “Just enough supplies to get the job done. Only one bed, though. Hope you two can manage.”

You froze for a second, not sure if you’d heard him right. “Wait… what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Price didn’t even blink. “One bed,” he repeated casually. “This isn’t a luxury vacation. You’ll be monitoring the target from there. No time for complaints.”

You shot a quick look at Simon, whose face was as unreadable as ever. There was no way this was going to be easy. Price, clearly savoring the moment, clapped his hands together.

“Get your gear, and I’ll see you both at the rendezvous point. You know the drill—keep it quiet, keep it tight. Don’t screw this up.”

With a smirk and a nod, Price turned on his heel and left the room. You exhaled slowly, your heart already starting to race at the thought of the situation ahead.

Simon glanced at you, then back at the door where Price had just exited. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, clearly less than thrilled about the sleeping arrangements.

“Yeah… great,” you echoed, your mind already spinning with how awkward this was about to get.

-

When you stepped into the safe house, the first thing you noticed was how small it was.

One main living area. A tiny kitchen. A single bedroom.

And one bed.

Your stomach twisted. Price’s smug look from earlier suddenly made perfect sense.

Ghost stood stiffly near the door, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on the bed. His hands clenched briefly at his sides, but he said nothing.

You swallowed. “I’ll take the floor.”

His head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing. “No.”

You frowned. “It’s fine, really.”

“Not happenin’.”

You hesitated, then sighed. This was going to be a long mission.

The first day at the safe house was unbearable.

You tried to keep yourself busy, checking supplies, setting up comms, anything to avoid sitting in that stifling silence. Simon was the same, moving around the space, tension radiating from him. He barely looked at you.

Because looking at you was dangerous.

Simon knew himself well enough to understand that much. The more he let himself watch you, the harder it would be to keep a leash on whatever this was. So he didn’t. He focused on the mission. On the layout of the safe house. On anything but the fact that he could hear the soft inhale and exhale of your breath in the quiet, or that you smelled like something clean and warm beneath your gear.

It wasn’t helping.

You weren’t faring much better.

From the moment you arrived, anxiety had settled deep in your stomach. It was one thing to deal with Simon back on base, where there were distractions, other people, space. But here? Here, in this tiny house with nowhere to hide? Every time you moved, you felt him like a weight against your skin.

And you were convinced, more than ever, that he couldn’t stand you.

The short responses. The stiff posture. The way his shoulders tensed whenever you got too close. It all screamed discomfort, and it made something twist in your chest. You were used to working with difficult people, but Simon’s avoidance felt personal in a way that you couldn’t explain.

By nightfall, the silence was unbearable.

“Alright,” you finally said, crossing your arms. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Simon, who had been cleaning his knife, stilled. “Talk about what?”

You gestured vaguely around the room. “This. The fact that we’re stuck here together and you act like I’ve personally wronged you.”

His fingers flexed around the knife. “You didn’t.”

“Then what’s your problem with me?”

He looked at you then, and it made your breath catch.

“There’s no problem,” he said finally, voice low.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Simon watched as you turned away, frustration rolling off you. He should say something. He knew he should. But everything he wanted to say—all the thoughts tumbling in his head—were things he could never let slip.

Because the problem wasn’t you. It was him.

And God help him, two weeks of this might just break him.

-

The air in the safe house was cold when night fell. You stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, looking at Simon like you were preparing for a fight.

“I’ll take the floor,” you said firmly.

Simon, who was already sitting on the edge of the mattress, let out a slow sigh. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

You glared at him. “You need rest. You’re bigger than me. You’ll be uncomfortable on the ground.”

He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was trying to find some patience. “You’re not sleepin’ on the damn floor.”

You set your jaw, determined. “Then I’ll take the chair.”

 “You’ll take the bed.”

It was a standoff. You, stubborn as ever, refusing to give in. Him, stone-faced, refusing to let you win.

Finally, after a long, tense silence, Simon shook his head. “We’ll both take the bed. It’s big enough.”

Your stomach twisted. “Are you sure?”

He just grunted in response and moved to the far side of the mattress, facing away from you, shoulders tight. You hesitated, feeling awkward, before finally sitting down on the other side.

Lying down next to him felt… strange. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with proximity and everything to do with the fact that this was Simon. The man who barely spoke to you. The man who looked at you like you were a problem.

And now you were sharing a bed.

You forced yourself to stay still, willing sleep to come, but it was impossible. Every small shift of fabric, every breath he took, every inch of space between you felt amplified in the quiet.

Simon was even worse off.

He had spent years training himself to sleep under any conditions. But this? This was new.

Your warmth, just inches away, was something he couldn’t ignore. The rise and fall of your breaths, the scent of you so close, the soft rustling every time you shifted slightly. It was torture. He had to clench his fists to keep them still, to resist the urge to reach out, to let himself—

You exhaled softly, a little sigh escaping your lips. His chest tightened.

Then—nothing.

Stillness.

Simon turned his head just enough to glance at you. Your face was relaxed, lips slightly parted, lashes fanned against your cheeks. Asleep.

Something in him softened.

Carefully—so carefully—he let his fingers brush against the back of your hand, just for a second. Barely a touch, a whisper of contact.

His throat tightened as he pulled his hand away, his own pulse betraying him.

Yeah.

He was completely, utterly fucked.

-

He’d fallen asleep easily enough, or so he thought. At some point, in the dead of night, Simon had woken up.

His eyes flicked over to you, lying still beside him, your face relaxed in sleep. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on your features. The way your breath came evenly, how you curled slightly in your sleep—it was something so innocent, so calm. And yet, it stirred something in Simon he wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge.

He tried to force his thoughts away, willing himself to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. Everything about this felt wrong, and at the same time... it felt right.

Then, in one of those moments where the mind is too slow to catch up with the body, you shifted in your sleep, your head moving slowly as if drawn by some invisible force. Before Simon could react, your head was resting on his chest, your hair brushing his chin, your breath warm against his skin.

His heart skipped, and he went completely still, barely daring to breathe. Every muscle in his body tensed as he lay there, frozen, but inside, everything was a mess. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation, anything to justify this moment. His chest tightened, his pulse hammering. You, of all people, had ended up like this, so close, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He couldn’t move. He was terrified of disturbing you, of you waking up and realizing what had happened. But even more, he was terrified of what this meant for him. He shouldn’t want you so close, shouldn’t want this warmth, shouldn’t want the feeling of you there, pressing into him in a way that had him aching with longing.

But he did. He wanted it more than he cared to admit.

So he lay there, forcing himself to stay motionless, eyes staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way his heart was thudding in his chest, trying to ignore how good it felt to have you so close.

But eventually, sleep came in waves, though it was a restless kind of sleep. Simon barely managed to close his eyes, his body fighting the pull of exhaustion, constantly aware of your warmth against him, of the feeling of you there on his chest.

When the first light of morning filtered into the room, Simon woke up again. He blinked, confused for a second, before his eyes landed on you. You were still there—your head on his chest, your body curled close to him, as if you belonged there. The soft sound of your breathing was the only thing he could focus on.

He couldn’t sleep, and now, he was lying there with you. He forced himself to breathe slowly, hoping that the pounding in his chest would slow down. He didn’t know what to do—didn’t know if he should wake you up or let you stay there.

But then, as if on cue, you shifted in your sleep again, your head moving off his chest. He held his breath, hoping you wouldn’t wake up and realize where you were. But of course, you did. Your eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly turning into panic as you realized your position. You immediately pushed yourself away from him, sitting up in a hurry.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face flushed with embarrassment. You could barely look at him, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. “I didn’t mean to...”

The last thing Simon wanted was for you to feel worse. The reality of the situation was a mess, but he didn’t want you to panic.

“It’s okay,” Simon muttered, his voice hoarse from sleep, trying to sound casual, but it came out wrong. His body was still tense from the moment before, from the warmth of you on his chest, and he had no idea how to act now. He wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or just accept it as something that had happened.

But he wasn’t about to admit that he had been awake the whole time, pretending to be asleep while his heart was in his throat.

You turned to face him, still looking panicked. "I didn’t mean to—"

“No,” Simon said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Really. It’s fine.”

You hesitated, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you could believe him. You shifted nervously next the bed, unsure what to do next.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you muttered, still avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what happened, I—"

Simon tried to act calm, even though his heart was still racing. "It’s fine," he repeated, though his voice was softer now, quieter. He felt like he was saying it more for himself than for you. “You were asleep. It’s no big deal.”

You wanted to say something, but words seemed useless now, as if there was nothing that could make the situation better.

Simon’s mind was a whirlwind, but he kept his face neutral. He had no idea how you felt, but as he sat there in the stillness, the fact that you had been so close, even by accident, had done something to him that he wasn’t sure how to process. He hadn’t wanted to move, hadn’t wanted you to wake up and see it.

“Right,” you muttered, your heart still racing. You couldn’t look at him anymore. The awkwardness of the moment was too much. “I’ll just... get ready now.”

Simon nodded, his gaze following you as you moved to gather your things. He stayed still, his body still tight with the remnants of that moment, but internally, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to admit how much he had enjoyed it. But the truth was, having you that close had affected him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

And the more he tried to ignore it, the more he realized there was no going back now.

PART 2

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@daydreamerwoah @nightunite @rigbyscar @kittygonap @buggg4life @tessakate @m-artemisa-c @first-time-fanfic-writer

[scoupsakakitty]

hii hope youre doing great btw !!! i really love your stories and writing !!

so i wanna ask how about scoups dating an idol, and when they have to perform in the same events, but his partner suddenly fainted when her groups just finished performing. i just wanna know like how he would react hehehe thank youuu and im so sorry for my broken english since its not my first language :( but i hope you would understand it !!

In the Moment | idol!Scoups x idol!reader | angst

The atmosphere backstage was electric as Seventeen prepared for their own performance. The awards show had everyone on edge, but Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His eyes were fixed on the stage where Y/N’s group was performing, and despite the cheers of the crowd, he couldn’t ignore the unease building inside him.

Y/N’s movements were slower than usual. She looked off—tired, shaky, and strained in a way that didn’t seem right. Seungcheol watched, his heart pounding, as she struggled to keep up with the choreography. Every move seemed like it required more effort than the last, and he couldn’t stop the worry building in his chest.

He could see her pushing herself through the performance, but with each step, it was more obvious that she was fading. Her body seemed to be fighting against her, but she held on, determined to finish the routine.

And then, at the climax of the performance, it happened. Y/N stumbled. Her knees gave way, and before anyone could react, she collapsed to the ground, right in front of the stage.

Seungcheol’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think. He didn’t even wait for the signal. His mind screamed at him to act, and without hesitation, he turned to the staff beside him.

“Get her down here. Now!” Seungcheol shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The staff members hesitated for a moment, but Jeonghan, standing beside him, quickly jumped into action. "Call an ambulance, and get a doctor—now!" His calm demeanor masked the concern in his eyes, but his voice was sharp, urging the staff into motion.

Seungcheol didn’t care about anything else. His focus was entirely on Y/N. The moment he saw her fall, he felt the world slow down around him. His heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t afford to waste another second.

Within moments, two staff members appeared at the side of the stage, carefully lifting Y/N's limp body, guiding her toward the backstage area. Seungcheol was already there, waiting, pacing nervously.

He didn’t care who saw him. He didn’t care about the crowd or the performance waiting for him. All that mattered was Y/N.

As soon as they reached the backstage door, Seungcheol rushed forward. He gently but firmly took her from their hands, cradling her in his arms as though she was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Y/N, come on wake up you're safe now.” he murmured, his voice thick with worry. Her skin was cold and pale, and he could feel her shallow breathing against his chest. She was out of it, barely conscious, but he could still feel the faint pulse beneath his fingertips.

His heart hammered as he moved swiftly toward a quiet room. He didn’t let go of her once, even as the staff tried to clear the way. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, each step more urgent than the last.

When they reached the room, he gently laid her on the couch, pushing aside any distractions in his path. His hands shook as he brushed a lock of hair from her face, checking her temperature with his palm. She was still too cold, her breathing shallow and uneven.

The staff was quick to follow, bringing in a doctor, but Seungcheol didn’t leave her side. He stayed close, hovering protectively, watching her like a hawk. His eyes never left her face as the doctor began to check her vitals.

“Is she going to be okay?” Seungcheol asked, his voice tight, almost desperate.

The doctor nodded, though his expression was serious. “She’s just exhausted, overworked and dehydrated. We’ll need to keep an eye on her for a bit, but she’ll be fine with rest.”

Seungcheol let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned over and gently stroked Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, “You scared me, Y/N. Please, don’t ever do that again.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave him a small, weak smile. “I didn’t mean to... worry you.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know that, right?” he said softly, his voice low but firm. “Just take care of yourself. You’re important to me.”

Y/N blinked slowly, still feeling the effects of the exhaustion. "I pushed myself too hard."

He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “It’s not worth it, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

The doctor gave them a moment before leaving to check on the rest of the team, leaving Seungcheol alone with her. He stayed close, holding her hand, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, not caring if anyone heard. “I’m here. Always.”

Y/N let out a faint sigh, finally allowing herself to relax, her body sinking into the cushions. And for the first time that night, Seungcheol allowed himself to breathe, knowing she was safe with him.