#and it's like. idk my brain is just melting at this point

[kenzie-ann27]

the worst part about burning out is I actively try to not burn out by doing even more shit

[aromacaque]

skulltrot #1 donnie defender everyone should be so fucking scared for whenever i eventually get that video essay out for him because somehow SOMEHOW my mikey analysis was 50 minutes long and ... i can't say for sure how long one on donnie would end up being but if it ends up being longer than that somehow i will disintegrate or something i think

[chanselysees]

.

[bastardqueerboy]

Me: haha im fine

Meanwhile me:

*eliminate all emotions via bed rot and dissociation hardcore mode*

[nebulous-library]

little acts of intimacy: how they like to be touched - tokrev boys

in specifically a not-inherently-sexual manner. what kind of physical contact with you gives them the warm fuzzies? hcs for a selections of my personal tokyo revengers blorbos, including: Mikey, Draken, Baji, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Hakkai, Taiju, Koko, Inupi, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, and Izana

Mikey feels most at home when he’s cuddled up into your arms, especially if you’re taller than he is. It makes him feel like your teddy bear. 100/10, definite nuzzler. 

Draken likes sitting on the floor by the couch while you have your legs draped over his shoulders, just chilling. Better yet, though, if you start massaging his shoulders or neck, he’ll melt. 

Baji is a sweetie who just wants to hold hands, actually. There is a specific part of his brain that simply demands Hand Holdies. He will feel so loved and special if you hold his hand, especially if you do the interlocked fingers hold instead of the criss-crossed palms way. Also is not opposed to it if you simply rest your hand on his ass. Like, not even in a sexual way, just as a little “hehe, mine >:]” kinda thing.

Chifuyu will fucking melt if you rest your head on him, or put your hand over his heart. Especially the latter, he’ll be so flustered. 

Kazutora likes when you run your fingers through his hair. It makes him feel safe. Like, this is a genuinely therapeutic sensation for him, it’s so gentle and he doesn’t fully understand why his heart swells when you do it, he just wants you to never ever stop.

Hakkai’s favorite way to be touched is when you reach up and put your hands around the back of his neck and stroke his jaw with your thumbs. He’s so shy at the start of your relationship that he can’t always find words, but sometimes all you need is that communication via eye contact. It takes a little time, but that’s the kind of thing that makes his heart flutter – you, holding his face, and looking at him with adoration. 

Taiju’s favorite place to be touched is mid- to lower-back. He carries a lot of tension there and it can be on the sensitive/tender side. He loves it when you’re out together and you sling your arm around him and rest your hand there. When you’re in private, he’ll just flop down on the bed shirtless, staring at you until you take the hint that he wants a massage. Just sit on his ass and work the tension in his lumbar region, he’ll melt for you. Bonus points if you get playful and start writing things with your finger and making him guess. He thinks that shit’s hella cute.

Koko has a few things he likes. Number one is when you pet the buzzed side of his hair and will nuzzle into your hand. Another favorite is when you hold onto his arm when you’re beside him. Just kinda loop your arm through his and hold on. He likes having such full body contact without it being Full Body Contact™️, y’know? Also, adding a little bit of zest to this, he’s 100% a “pull him close by the waistband of his pants” kinda fella. Yes, in a spicy way, but also just in an “enjoying being pressed against you” way.  

Inupi’s favorite thing is when you cup his jaw or rub behind his ear (big puppy vibes, obvi), especially if you’re calling him by his given name. His heart will simply explode. Also like, any time you rest the palm of your hand on his tummy. He just feels relaxed idk. 

Sanzu likes when you sit with him and have your legs across his lap. It’s casual but just intimate enough that he can comfortably squeeze your knee and grin to himself that he’s lucky enough to call you his. But if you wanna be extra forward with him, bite him in front of the others. Hold his hand and just casually bring it up toward your mouth and CHOMP. He knows that means you love him. 

Ran is a surprisingly big cuddler. Whether it’s falling asleep or waking up, he just likes having you in his comfy space — his bed. Non-sexual physical contact is absolutely his jam. Not that he doesn’t love railing you, but man, his natural state is so low-energy. He wants to trap you in his blanket cocoon and just stay like that and watch youtube videos or some shit. Definitely makes a fuss if you break free because the heat is too much, but you will not fully get away from him. He’s one of those “must have some part of himself touching some part of you” dudes. Good luck. Also, bonus: he also enjoys when you braid his hair for him (his arms get tired when he does it himself)

Rindou is also cuddly, but in more of a Mikey kind of way. While Ran is very open with the fact that he wants you to let him hold you, Rin Rin would never be so bold. He’ll pretend that he thinks it’s dumb or some shit, but somehow at the end of the day he’ll always curl up with you. But HE wants to be the one being cuddled. Much more tsuntsun about it than Mikey, who would simply dive into your arms. Treat Rindou like he’s your snuggly little teddy bear. Let him bury his face in your chest while you stroke his hair. Tell him you love him and know that when he responds with a muffled, “......shut up.” that’s simply his way of saying he loves you too. Bonus: if you’re out and about, he’ll lean on you. Like, in the way that tall people do. He won’t mean it to mock your height, he just doesn’t know how to convey that he wants to be touching you when you’re out in public.

Izana honestly probably prefers touching rather than being touched. He likes to have you in his lap, letting him just have his hands roaming all over you. His fingertips will dance along your thighs and up your sides or along your arms. He imagines he’s painting his marks along your skin, in patterns only he can see. He’ll smile to himself and rest his chin on your shoulder. But if you must return the favor, he particularly likes it when you sit beside him and just hold his arm in your lap and mindlessly run your fingers up and down his forearm. 

[transmascissues]

conversations i’ve had with my mom this week about top surgery that will make my brain melt if i try too hard to make sense of them:

i was talking to her about how i might have to extend my medical leave because i probably won’t be ready to work at 4 weeks. she told me she didn’t expect my recovery to take this long. this is the same woman who, before i got top surgery, told me horror stories about someone she knew who had complications for months after having a mastectomy. was she just making shit up? was she lecturing me about things she was actively still in denial about? i can’t even begin to guess.

i mentioned to her that i’ve been posting about my experiences with recovery and she seemed…offended? by the idea that i was talking about it publicly. i shouldn’t be surprised because she’s the one who once told me the online trans community is “cult-like” and that she thought i was only getting top surgery because the trans people in my computer convinced me. the thing is, she’s also constantly asking me how my recovery timeline compares to other people so i…don’t know how she expects me to get that information if she also thinks talking to people about my recovery is bad.

she was asking me about how my incisions are healing and she told me to describe how they look to her…but “not anything that’ll make me cry”. do i know what she meant by that? nope! i can only assume the right move was to not describe anything too in-depth, even if it meant not including important details because they might upset her. priorities, am i right?

she asked me if, having been through the worst of recovery and knowing what it’s like, i would still make the same choice to get top surgery. obviously i said i would. she then proceeded to keep saying things like “really? are you sure? even after all this? you know you don’t have to say that, right?” as if it was completely impossible to believe i don’t regret this. why did she ask if she didn’t really want to hear the answer? god only knows.

we found out how much my insurance paid for the part of my surgery costs that were covered and it turns out they paid way more than any of the estimates i was given. my mom kept saying “that’s a lot of money you know” over and over again, as if i didn’t know that an amount of money high enough to buy a small house is a lot. i think she was trying to make some kind of point. what point? idk man.

0/10 totally incomprehensible interactions. i don’t even know what to make of them. i think now that the surgery is done and she can’t fight it anymore, she’s gone from being overtly ridiculous about it to just bringing the absolute weirdest vibes to every conversation about it.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Impressions

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Notes: Idk y'all my brain spit this out. I haven’t written Will in, like…..100 years?

Rating: Mature - mostly for language

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff. Not beta-read.

Length: 7.5K

Summary: Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

GIF by charllehunnam

Your first impression of Will Miller is technically...Good.

It's from Benny, is the thing.

You hear the sweet and the sour, the grumbling when Benny is training at the gym alone in the mornings—"He's a hard ass, but he means well."

It's said with a little smile, with sibling love and familiarity that tells you that Ben and Will have told each other to go fuck themselves just as much as they've said that they're proud of one another.

Your second impression of Will comes from Terry.

Terrence Owen McLowery is your best friend, your informal trainee, and is currently ranked in the Middleweight division, just a few spots behind Ben Miller (but gaining, and fast). He's one of the few openly gay boxers in your area and in his division, something that he might get more hate for if he couldn't kick the shit out of anyone slagging his name off behind his back.

Terry gets to as many matches as he possibly can, even when he's not fighting in them. You try to join him as often as you can, but there are times when you just can't swing it. He likes to scope out the competition.

"I'm gonna be in there, kickin' their ass one day," He tells you, "I should clock their weaknesses now, not then."

He spends more time ringside than he does in the ring for the sake of observation. And he's seen the Miller brothers at fight after fight.

"You oughta see 'im," Terry says, a dreamy look in his eyes—and you don't know if he's talking about Ben or Will, but you kinda figure it's both. Look, you've met Ben, you wouldn't be surprised if good genes ran in the family.

"He's real level-headed, ringside, even when Ben’s in a jam," Terry adds, and you realize that he's talking about Will, "Kinda like you, but without the taunting."

You roll your eyes a little bit, "You told me the taunting makes you try harder."

"Hmph."

"And I told you a real coach wouldn't do that,” You tack on.

Terry doesn't hmph at that one. He doesn't like it when you point out that you're not a professional coach. You taught him the basics a long time ago, back when the two of you needed to have one another's backs on the playground—and you keep him honest when he's training up now. But Terry needs a coach that'll actually help him in the ring, not do what you do. And sure, you don't do the worst job, but Terry could go further with a professional.

--

Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

--

You’re at the gym early. Terry is supposed to be there, too, but he took a late shift at work and couldn’t drag himself out of bed. You don’t blame him—a body needs rest if you’re going to put it through its paces. You’re striding past the ring at the center of the gym when you spot Ben sparring with another contender in the middleweight division. You spot an error, one that Terry makes frequently himself, and call out,

“Pick up your right shoulder, Miller!” 

The advice incurs a nod from Ben—and a glare from a golden-headed man standing ringside. Something in his cool gaze chastens you, and you hurry on toward the class you signed up for. 

--

“What was with that guy?” You ask Ben later as you’re stretching. 

“What guy?”

“Blonde, bearded…Glaring?” You remind him. Ben’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You mean Will?”

“That was Will?” You ask in a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah. Glaring?”

“He looked like he was trying to melt me with his laser vision.” 

It makes Benny’s laugh boom in the gym, and you glance around to see if you’ve attracted any attention. Sure enough, Will’s not too far off, his arms folded across his chest as he speaks to someone. His gaze darts between Ben and you, and his eyes narrow. 

“Aaaand there it is again,” You mutter, drawing your legs back from the stretch. 

-- 

“Hey,” You hear. You frown, turning back to the source, and find Will striding toward you. You’re about to offer your hand, to introduce yourself—in relation to Ben, or Terry, something—but he speaks again before you can get a word out:

“Ben’s got a fight coming up. He doesn’t need any glove bunnies distracting him.” 

Your mouth was opened to speak, but now your jaw drops, a scoff of indignation flying out. 

“Glove bunnies?” You repeat, stunned. Will waves you off. 

“Whatever Ben does in his own time is none of my business, but when he’s here, and when he’s in the ring, he needs to be focused.” 

Will doesn’t let you get in another word before he’s turning and walking away. You watch him go, stunned. Asshole. Asshole. As you turn to head into the locker room, you remember Ben telling you that he’s a hard ass, but he means well. 

Well-meaning or not, Will Miller is a dick. 

--

“There’s a man outside who’s looking for you,” You hear.

You glance up from your laptop, brows raised at your coworker. It couldn’t be Terry; he’d call or text you, not ask for you. And it can’t be…Actually, you can’t think of any other guy that would come looking for you at work. 

“Did you tell him I was in here?”

“I said I wasn’t sure anyone by that name worked here and that I’d check,” Molly relays. You nod a little bit, muttering, “Solid,” before adding, “He say who he is?” 

“Will Miller?”

You freeze, then, hands hovering over your keyboard. What the hell is Miller doing there? And how does he know where you work?

“Okay,” You nod, “Okay, tell him I’ll be out in a...A minute.” 

“Sure.” Molly starts to drift away from you before she turns, half-jogging back to your desk. 

“He is so hot,” She hisses. You can't help your grudging smile. 

“Yes, he is.” 

Asshole or not, you can agree that Will Miller is annoyingly, startlingly attractive. 

--

The man that meets you outside is a far cry from the one who accosted you at the gym just a week ago. In a well-fitting polo and a pair of khakis, he looks more like a suburban dad than a hardened drillmaster. You stop just a few feet from the door to your office, arms folded tightly over your chest. He clears his throat, approaching you slowly and stopping just a couple of steps from you. 

“Ben had a fight this weekend,” He says. Him starting that way makes your stomach swoop with fear. You immediately worry that something’s gone wrong, that Ben is badly hurt. But Will goes on: 

“He kept his right shoulder up. That little tip saved his ass a few times.” 

Your brows raise. You didn’t expect him to admit it, even if it did help. 

“I saw Terry, too,” Will adds, “And realized precisely how and where I fucked up when he showed me a picture of you.”

Will doesn't look like he's trying to melt you with his heat vision anymore. In fact, he looks...Genuinely remorseful.

“I see,” You nod a little. 

Will pushes a sigh out through his nose. 

“I’m sorry for approaching the situation the way I did. And for calling you a, uh—”

“Glove bunny?”

He winces with the reminder. “Yeah. I didn’t have all of the facts. Even if I had, it was still the wrong way to approach the situation, and I apologize.” 

You take a moment to drink in his face again, as if you’re seeing it for the first time. His blue eyes are soft where they were icy, and the once-harsh press of his lips is replaced with a regretful, almost contemplative pout. And then you nod a touch.

“I appreciate and accept your apology.” 

Something akin to relief seems to wash over him, and he holds his hand out. 

“I’m Will, by the way.” 

“Will?” You repeat, screwing your face up in mock confusion, “Will...Will...That certainly sounds familiar.”

A smile tugs his lips up just a touch as he pumps your hand up and down. 

“I train Ben Miller. I'm his brother,” He adds. 

“Oh, that Will. Right, of course.” 

You let his hand drop and folded your arms across your chest. 

“Blank slate,” You add softly. 

Will’s brows jump. 

“Completely?”

“Well, Ben says you’re a hard ass and Terry thinks you’re dreamy, but I’ll try not to let their impressions color mine.” 

“Pretty mixed reviews.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you exchange curious smiles before you nod over your shoulder. 

“I’ve gotta get back to work."

“Of course.”

“See you around, Miller.” 

--

“Seriously, Terrence!” You call out as Terry spars with one of the other gym members, “Is this prep or are you trying to waltz him into tapping out?” 

Terry groans, reeling away from his sparring partner. 

“God, you’re a bitch,” He grunts as he walks toward you, bending over for his water. 

“And you’re a dumbass, Billy Elliot. Get back in there.” 

“He’s holding his breath,” You hear. You turn back to see Will Miller coming closer.

“When he punches,” He clarifies. 

“You can tell him,” You offer before you whistle sharply, stopping Terry from stepping more deeply into the ring. You nod toward Will and listen as he offers his tip. Terry takes his time listening, nodding, leaning against the ropes.

“...Think you got it?” You ask.

“Loud and clear,” Terry agrees before turning back to his sparring partner.

You glance over at Will, nodding your chin up. “Thanks."

“Sure,” Will smiles before walking away. Ben’s not too far away, working at a punching bag. You watch Will for a long moment before turning back to Terry in the ring. Terry ducks out of the way of an oncoming jab, and finds time to shoot you a wink before he turns back to his sparring partner. 

--

“Terry—” 

“Come on—” 

“I can’t tonight, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow!” 

“Just a few rounds! Come with me, see Ben in action—and see what I mean about Will ring-side.”

“You just want me to go because you think you’ll be much less conspicuous drooling over them if I’m there.” 

“Maybe.”

“And for the record, you’d be just as conspicuous.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes we do.” 

“Come with meeee," He whines. "If you’re not there, I’ll curse out a redneck bigot and I’ll get in trouble for beating him up in the parking lot.” 

“Well then you and the Millers can tag team.” 

Terry groans loudly, tipping his head back. “Don’t. Don’t even think about putting ‘Miller’ and ‘tag team’ in the same sentence. My mind just went to about eight filthy places.” 

“Just eight?”

“Alright, nine.”

“Terry. Sweetheart. Angel. Not tonight.” 

“Four rounds.” 

“No.” 

“Two rounds.” 

“Terry—”

“Ben’ll probably take ‘em down in one.” 

“I’m sure he’d love that you have so much faith in his skill, but we’ll have to get through the matches before his, and that’ll already be way late.” 

“I won’t make you come to the gym with me tomorrow.” 

“Probably because you won’t make it to the gym tomorrow.”  

“That’s not the point.” 

--

You didn’t always love the atmosphere around the fight. You used to hate the screaming, the overpriced beer, the rednecks. It used to make you wary, going with Terry. People knew him. It's not secret that he's gay. He used to catch more shit for it before he bulked up and started fighting. Even after he had, the slurs hadn’t stopped. It used to raise your hackles—but Terry’s got more of a handle on how he approaches those incidents, and he’s made a lot of friends that frequent the ring, both as spectators, and in the Middleweight division.

You wouldn’t say that you like going to fights now, but you don’t find it as daunting as you used to. Now, the atmosphere is exciting—it zips through you like lightning; it makes your fingers tingle, and your heart pound. 

“Here,” Terry calls out, pressing a beer into your hand. 

“I told you I’ve got work tomorrow!” 

“I got two for myself, you’re just holding that one for me.” 

“Bullshit,” You laugh, looking up at the ring as the bell sounds. 

By the time the first two fights are down, you know you should leave. It’s late, and it’s only going to get later—you’ve had three beers, and Terry’s coming back with another one. 

“Terry, I really shouldn’t—”

“Ben’s coming down the hall,” He half-yells into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from muttering, ‘Fucking finally,’ when it bubbles up in you. You push it down with a gulp of beer, glancing back and trying to catch sight of the Millers. You see Benny’s chestnut hair; Will’s bright head bobs into view just moments later. You and Terry begin to cheer almost on instinct as they come more fully into view—as Benny heads into the ring, and Will rounds the corner. Will looks around, and his eyes catch on you and Terry. He raises his hand to give Terry a pat on the shoulder, and meets your eyes dead-on. 

It’s a half-second, that’s all, but it seems to last for far longer. If anyone asked you what happened in that half-second, you’d tell them that you nodded to him—you know that for sure, because he nods, too. You’re not sure if it’s the beer, or the crackling of the air around you, but your skin feels hot. You don’t even know if you’re smiling. But Will’s gaze holds on yours for a long time, even as he walks on. When he finally looks away, you can feel your heart thudding in the vicinity of your throat. 

Terry leans over, his shoulder nudging yours as he speaks into your ear:

“Distracted much?” 

“...What?” You manage, tipping your head back toward him as you watch Benny climb into the ring.

“Uh-huh.” 

When you glance up at Terry, you find him grinning smugly, and you reach out, shoving his shoulder as you grumble, “Shut up.” As the bell sounds, you yell out, “Let’s go!” and vaguely register Will’s yell of, “It’s time to work!” 

--

Ben is a hunter in the ring.

You can’t help but compare the way he fights with the way Terry fights. Terry prefers to hold back, to let his opponent dance around and tire themselves out. Terry is a slow-burn; Benny is a wildfire. Will is as much wind to guide his brother as he throws gasoline on Benny’s flame, honing his path and stoking his focus on the rare occasions that Benny takes a hard hit or seems to flounder. 

You plan to only stay for a couple of rounds, but before you know it, you’re cheering Benny as his opponent is knocked down, and stays down. The ref takes hold of Benny’s wrist, holding it up as he proclaims him the winner, and you and Terry crow with excitement. As the crowd begins to flow—as Benny is led out to be checked over by the ring doctor—you turn to Terry, ready to insist again that you have to leave. But you feel a hand land on your shoulder, and turn your head to see Will leaning in. He gets close between you and Terry, and asks over the hum of the crowd, “What are you guys doing now?” 

--

You should be more concerned about the fact that tomorrow morning (well, later this morning) is going to be absolute hell for you. You should be concerned about the fact that when you get home, whenever you get home, you’re probably going to need to have a couple of pieces of toast and a few glasses of water. Your head is buzzing with the beers you had at the fight, and now with the two that you’ve had at the bar. But the zipwire-tense feeling that had ripped through you is ebbing as you watch Benny return from the bar with a massive basket of fries and a fresh round of beers.

Oh, man. You’re really gonna regret this tomorrow. 

You push the thought away as you reach out, taking up a precariously full beer and leaning back in your seat. 

“Surprised you’ve got such a sedate after party,” Terry comments as he takes one of the beers. 

“Fewer glove bunnies than I expected,” You add, eyes sliding to Will’s, where he sits across from you. He appears to bite back a smile, eyes dipping to the table. Benny’s eyes dart between the two of you, brow furrowing, and you give a small, reassuring shake of your head. 

“I have a question,” Benny declares, leaning against the table. 

“Has it got anything to do with that swelling cheek?” Terry asks, waving a finger toward Benny’s face. 

“No,” Benny huffs, “I know how all about that. How’d you two meet?” He asks. You glance at Terry, arching a brow as he turns to you with a grin. 

“School,” Is your short answer. 

“I moved in around, like…Fifth grade-ish?” Terry’s brow furrows. 

“It wasn’t fifth-grade-ish, it was fifth grade,” You correct. 

“I wasn’t the most social kid, and that caught me a lot of shit. I got picked on, and this one,” Terry pushes his shoulder against yours, and you sway with it, bobbing back and forth, “Taught me how to keep from getting my ass kicked on the way home.” 

“Seriously?” Ben asks. You shrug a little. 

“It started with short-cuts to get him home, but when other kids caught on, things got a bit more…Physical.” 

“Did you already know how to fight?” Will asks. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I knew how to swing a fist, I didn’t really know how to fight. We both learned to, though, because we…Had to.”

“She’s been stuck with me ever since,” Terry sighs dramatically. You roll your eyes, turning a fond smile up at him. 

“He’s like my taller, irritating younger brother,” You add.

“I know all about that,” Will pipes up, and you can’t help but turn a laugh at him. 

“So what about you two, how did you two meet?” You tease, waving your finger between them. 

“Oh, man,” Ben mutters. 

“Well I came home one day and my mom said, ‘We have a surprise for you’,” Will says, “And then six months later, this dick shows up.” 

“And he’s been stuck with me ever since,” Ben smiles, glancing at Will. You reach out, plucking up a couple of the fries and dipping them in ketchup. 

“Did you guys get along growing up?” 

“We don’t even get along now,” Ben teases. Will chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Not always. We butt heads as kids, and we do sometimes now, but…We get our shit done.” 

“He’s a hardass,” Ben cuts in.

“And he’s a dumbass.”

You grin. “So you complement each other is what I’m hearing.” 

--  

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” 

You’re taking a long pull from your water bottle, fighting the dryness in your throat when you hear Will. 

“What can I say,” You manage as you lower it. “I only just recovered from going out with y’all the other night.” 

Will chuckles, leaning against the pillar beside you as you wipe down your treadmill. 

“Didn’t mean to tire you out.” 

“I’m out of practice. Terry hasn’t had a fight in a couple of months, so I don’t stay up that late anymore.” 

“No?”

“Nope. I’m in bed at 9:30 and I like it.” 

You take up your water bottle, and the two of you start drifting away from the treadmills.

“Why hasn’t Terry been in the ring?” Will plies. 

“His rotator cuff’s kinda fucked up. He’s been taking it easy—Well. As easy as he's willing to take it. He has a check-in with his doctor in a couple of weeks.” 

“That must be driving him nuts.” 

“Oh, he’s losing it. He’s trying to go to as many fights as he can, though.”

“I’ve seen him at a few lately—Besides, Benny’s, you know. I was wondering why you didn’t go with him.” 

You stop at the door to the women’s locker room and turn around to face him. 

“Bed. 9:30,” You reiterate.

“Well I know that now.” Will tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling. “I wanted to ask: Do you think you could see it in yourself to duck your bedtime again?” 

“Depends on what for.” 

“There’s a fight down in Fernsworth this weekend. There’s a new kid on the bill, he’s apparently pretty vicious.” 

“Oh yeah? When this weekend?” 

“Friday.” 

You consider, lips pursing, and Will chuckles at your expression.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Terry’s got work that night.” 

“So’s Ben.” 

Your gut swoops in surprise, a brow lifting and falling quickly, but Will’s face remains as calm as ever.

“So?” Will presses. If you were reading into it, you’d think he was batting his pretty eyelashes. Before you can overthink it, you hold your hand out and order: “Phone.”

Will rifles into his pocket and pulls it out, passing it over. You add yourself as a contact, your heart thudding in your chest, ears going hot as you double-check that it’s right. You pass it back to Will, meeting his eyes again. “You can send me all the details.”

“Don’t feel like talking to me anymore?”

“I have to go to work, Miller,” You laugh, taking a couple of steps back. “Text me—And keep an eye out for those glove bunnies.” 

“Always.” 

You get one last look at Will, at his sweet, amused smile, and you turn, heading in to take a shower (and maybe to silently scream into your hands, a little). 

--  

You don’t dress up, and you do not tell Terry where you’re going, or with whom. It’s been bad enough that he clocked your swell of interest when you’d gone out with all of them, and worse still that he’s encouraged it. You’d been pressing your hands down onto the tops of his shoes, ensuring that his feet stayed flat as he worked on his core.

“At least—fuck him,” Terry had insisted as he’d come up from reps of crunches. “Do you—have any idea—what’d I’d do tuh—Phew—Have those pretty—blue eyes pointed at me—like that?” 

You’d raised your brow, casting a wary eye about to ensure that neither of the Miller brothers were anywhere nearby before you’d insisted, “Nothing is going to happen between me and Will.” 

“Why—the hell—not?” Terry gasped, finishing out his reps. He groaned, sweeping his hand across his sweating brow before planting both hands on the mat behind himself. “He’s leaps and bounds better than the other assholes you used to fuck with.” 

Like it or not, you knew Terry was right.

For your rough and real first impression, Will is actually kinda sweet. You still don’t know him all that well, and maybe tonight could change that. But you insist to yourself that you’re not going out to flirt with Will, you’re going to see this new fighter (Charlie “Shredder” Klein: 5’9, 194 pounds, rookie, southpaw) and gather some info for when, inevitably, Terry winds up fighting the guy. You dress…Comfortably, in one of your nicer pairs of jeans and one of your favorite tops. You feel cute, and you feel cute for you. If Will thinks that you’re cute in the outfit, well…That’s just a bonus. 

You don’t think he would tell you, though. Will Miller seems like the type to keep his cards close to his chest. 

The ride down to the venue is filled with polite small talk. The feeling in the cab of his truck is almost like the same nervous air of a first date. Your stomach is twisting like a nest of garter snakes; your skin is hot with nerves; you rub your sweaty palms nervously against your jeans. The two of you stick close together at the fight—though you don't exactly have an alternative; the venue is packed. Now and again, if you get nudged too roughly by someone else, or pushed one way or another, Will cuts a sharp, warning look at them over your head at the perpetrator. The third or so time it happens, you reach out, resting a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about them,” You say into his ear, cutting over the noise, “The fight’s in the ring, not with these dickheads.” 

Will’s lips twitch with a smile as he leans in to speak into your ear in turn. He says, “It’ll be here if they’re not careful,” But you almost don’t catch it. You’re too focused on everything else—on the press of his warm and firm body against your side; on the way his hand rests on your lower back; on the whisper of his beard against your cheek; on the brush of his lips and breath against the shell of your ear, and the way his voice seems to drown out the clamor of the spectators around you. It makes your heart tick up in your chest, a shiver tripping down your spine and stopping right where his hand sits. 

When your mind catches up with what he’s said, you laugh, nudging his hip with yours.

“Eyes on the prize, Miller,” You urge.

“They are,” He answers without missing a beat. It makes your stomach flip, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You finally force yourself to, and to clap as the announcer brings in the first contender, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of them—and not to overthink the way that Will’s hand is still resting on your back. 

--  

“Weak spots?” Will asks. You consider for a moment, running your finger along the side of your beer bottle. The buzz from the fight is wearing off, and the bar that you've gone to is far more quiet compared to the venue.

“He doesn’t go in…With a plan,” You say after a moment.

“His coach was calling plays.”

“Yeah, but Klein wasn’t listening. I mean when you tell Ben to back the fuck off or get away from the ropes, he backs the fuck off or gets away from the ropes, because in that moment, you see things in a way that he doesn’t. He trusts you to steer him. Klein’s coach can yell whatever he wants, but it’s not heard. Klein’s in the fight, he’s on the inside, he thinks he knows best, and that…That got him fucked up tonight. Might not always get him fucked up, but today’s outcome, you know. Not so much.” 

“Strong indictment.” 

“You asked me what I thought.”

“And I got it. I appreciate that.” 

You raise your brows at Will’s calm, honest expression.

“What about you?” You ask, nodding to him, “What do you think his weak spots are?” 

“He’s a brawler, not a fighter. He likes to go in for little…squirrely swiping matches. He wants excitement, not wins.” 

You shake your head at the assessment. “That just spells trouble for our boys.” 

“Less trouble if we go in with a plan.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The two of you lightly clink your beers together, sharing a smile before you take sips.

“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Will admits as he sets his bottle down. 

“Really?"

“Little bit.” 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t exactly have the nicest start.” 

“No, we didn’t, but…I don’t know, I thought we were on a more level field now.”

“I think we are.”

The two of you watch one another for a long moment, considering, and before you can say anything, Will adds: “I’m glad you came with me.” 

“Yeah? Didn’t wanna brave the hillbilly circus alone?” 

“I have before and it’s never fun.” 

“It wasn’t so bad tonight.” 

“I had good company.”

You smile a little bit, eyes sweeping Will’s face as flattery wells in your stomach.

“...You knew Terry had work tonight, didn’t you,” You accuse softly. Will shrugs a shoulder, raising his bottle to his lips again. You can’t help your flattered smile, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on him.

“Ben might’ve mentioned it,” Will finally concedes. 

“Interesting.” 

“Is it?”

“I think so.” 

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“I'm still sitting here, aren’t I?” 

Will’s smile widens, and your stomach flutters. “You could’ve just asked me out,” You add in a mutter.

“Well, now I know that for next time.” 

Next time. Your face goes hot; the beer in your stomach feels like it’s bubbling. 

“Yes you do,” You agree, nodding a little.

“When I do,” Will adds, leaning against the table, sending another burst through your chest at his use of ‘when’ where you'd expected 'if', “You alright with it being this sort of thing?”

“What, a fight and a beer? Hell yeah—Long as it’s before 9:30.” 

Will laughs, tugging his sleeve back and glancing at his watch. 

“You have any idea what time it is?” 

“No, and I do not wanna know.” 

-- 

You fold your across your chest, eyeing Terry’s form as he pounds the punching bag in front of himself. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as he leans away from the bag, swiping at the sweat dripping down his face. 

“‘Bout what?” He asks a little blandly between pants. 

“The fight.” 

“You asking me because I got a fight, or does it have to do with who I’m going up against?” 

You purse your lips, eyes sweeping the gym for any sign of either of the Miller brothers. Finding neither, you answer, “Both?” 

Terry chuckles, turning back to the bag.

“I’m not gonna go easy on Benny just ‘cause he’s a friend, and he ain’t gonna take it easy on me, either—”

“I know—”

“I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen—”

“I know! I know, oh my god, I get it.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” Terry mutters, punching viciously at the bag again.

“I’d be a bad coach not to ask, you know half of the fight’s in your head. And speaking of bad coach,” You add, “You found anyone else yet?” 

Terry casts you an irritated look out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you really talkin’ about this right now?”

“...Okay, letting it go,” You sigh before tacking on, “And you’re holding your breath again.” 

“I was about to say the same thing,” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Will just a few steps away. You smile almost involuntarily. You haven’t seen Will since your not-quite date, but you’ve thought about him and texted with him plenty.

“Shouldn’t you be mindin’ your own fighter, Miller?” Terry asks, straightening up and raising his hands to stop the swinging bag.

“Don’t worry, McLowery. The second he needs minding, I’ll be on it.” Will takes a few steps back from you both, shooting you a wink before he turns away. Your stomach twists, and you carefully smooth your smile away before turning to face Terry again. 

“Alright, c’mon,” You wave him toward the bag again, “Let’s go, we got half an hour and then we gotta get going. I can’t be late for work again.” 

-- 

It’s odd, finding yourself on the opposite side of the ring as Will. As nervous as you are—for the way your body feels like it’s buzzing, a tingle in your fingertips—you know that the boys’ll take this seriously. It was going to happen sooner or later; you just didn’t think it would be so soon. You hope that they come out of the ring with their friendships (and their bones) intact.

You shift from foot to foot, drawing a shaky breath in through your nose as Ben and Terry begin to circle up. Your eye catches on Will’s for just a moment. You trade nods, then turn your eyes back to your respective fighters. It’s a heady moment. The room seems to quiet around you for a moment as Ben and Terry approach one another, each with one fist out and one by their cheeks. You hardly blink as they get closer and closer—

--

“I almost had you.” 

It’s a gravely mutter, the first thing that Terry’s said since leaving the ring. He’s got a fat lip, and his right cheek is going to make it look like he’s part chipmunk in the morning. It’s a moment before Ben offers a grumbled, “...Almost.” Then, “Didn’t, though.” 

Terry takes a swipe at his head. Ben ducks it, raising his arm to push at Terry’s shoulder. You shake your head, leaning against the bar and watching them teasingly grapple. 

“You think they’d be too tired to do that by now,” You comment, shaking your head. 

“Adrenaline’s probably still pushin’ em. They’ll crash later.” 

The both of you are speaking a little more softly than usual; you had yelled your heads off at the match, and you're not sure about Will, but your throat feels so fricking raw. You nod, smile widening as the guys scrap a little more. 

“Hey—Alright, alright,” You finally raise your voice as they knock back into a stool. “If your sorry asses get us thrown out, you're paying.” 

“Drinks are on me, anyway,” Benny turns to give you a grin, teeth bright beneath the shiner developing on his right eye. Still, it’s a relief to see the boys settle. You shift on your stool and lean back against the bar, twisting your seat back and forth. 

“How are you feelin’?” 

You glance over at Will, brow furrowing in confusion at the question. 

“I didn’t just go five rounds with those numbskulls,” You point out, nodding toward them. 

“I know. You seemed…Tense.” 

“I was worried about ‘em.” 

“Terry?” 

“Both of them.” 

Will nods, eyes sweeping across your face before he glances around to the guys. 

“They’re doing alright.” 

“I know. I’m—I’m calming down, I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “So many of Terry’s other friends in the ring are in different divisions. This is the first friend he’s, like, fought-fought.” 

“He did alright.” 

“No, I know. Nothing too broken. And Ben’s fine, too, so. Like I said,” You raise your hands in a slight pushing motion. “Calming down.” 

Will smiles, taking a step closer and sliding his arm around your middle, bracketing you against the bar. Your stomach flips at the closeness, at the weight and warmth of his arm. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“You’ve just been completely chill the whole time?” 

Will shrugs. “I trusted the guys to handle it. They handled it.” 

“Alright…Knowitall,” You mutter. You smile as Will takes a step closer. He seems to glance toward the guys again before he lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Your stomach bursts with butterflies, and you gently lower your head, resting it against his. You turn your head as you hear the bartender’s, “Here you go,” behind you. The two of you straighten up, turning to the bar fully and reaching for your beers. 

“So,” Will clears his throat, “You busy this Friday?” 

You smile, trailing your finger along the side of your glass. 

“Is there another southpaw you wanna get a look at?” 

“Nope, just dinner. I thought maybe I could cook at your place—that way I won’t interfere with your bedtime.” 

You can’t help your grin, or the slight tip of your head as he crowds close again.

“That is so considerate of you, Miller.” 

“I do what I can.” 

-- 

You try to chip in for the groceries, but Will won’t hear of it. He won’t even tell you what he’s making. 

“You know that I can probably mentally tally up whatever it is you bring and, like, Venmo you that amount, right?” You ask. It’s a little huffed as it leaves you, your gaze and focus on the swinging punching bag in front of you. When Will doesn’t answer, you glance over, and do a double take at the sight of him.

He’s watching you with a warm, sweet look, his hands tucked in his pocket as he slouches against the wall beside you. You raise your hands to steady the bag and keep it from swinging and hitting you in the face, stomach fluttering at the way this man is looking at you—like you’re dolled up and wearing a goddamn ballgown, and not sweating in the middle of a gym. 

“Besides, what if I have an allergy or something?” You add. 

“I’ve already run the ingredients by someone.” 

You frown. “Who?” 

Will doesn’t answer, just shrugs and holds his gaze steadily on yours. You narrow your eyes slightly, turning to look around the gym. Terry’s not too far off—and he’s pointedly keeping his focus on anything but you. 

“...Terrence,” You call out. 

“Busy!” He yells back, plucking his water bottle and phone and hurrying to another machine. You roll your eyes, turning back to Will with a mutter of, “Spy.” 

His smile widens.

“I can be there by six, that alright?” He asks, pushes off of the wall. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“If I see any kind of calculator when I’m cooking…”

“Oh, you won’t. I’m like a phone ninja.” 

Will chuckles, leaning in and murmuring, “See you tonight.” 

The closeness of his murmur and his breath brushing against your sweat-slicked skin sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. 

-- 

Your plan to stealthily tally everything up disappears as Will unpacks the groceries. You blink, stunned, before you pick up a jar of sauce, turning it around in your hands. 

“Are you fricking kidding me?” 

Will doesn’t answer. He just backs off, an amused smile on his lips and his hand on his hip as you reach into the grocery bag and rifle through it before reeling back, screeching, “You took off all of the labels?!” 

“You thought I was just gonna let you look through everything and tally up how much this cost me?” He turns and reaches into the bag again, continuing to unpack. “Amateur hour.” 

You bite your lip, watching in silence for a few moments as you think. What sort of 3-D dating chess is this man playing? 

“You are…Frighteningly tactful, Miller.” 

His smile widens, and he seems to duck his head to unearth something from the bulging grocery bag, but you can see the creeping flush of flattering rising up in his cheeks. 

“I can still guestimate, you know,” You warn. 

He stops then, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Would you just let me do something nice for you?” His brows raise, his lips on the edge of pursing in disappointment. You’re stunned into silence as he adds, “Nothing has to be owed. I just…I just wanna make you dinner.” 

You pause before you nod a little. Will’s brows raise further, and you nod again, watching as he turns back toward the bag. You hesitate before nervously sidling up beside him, pressing yourself against his side and eyeing his steady hands. 

“Can I at least help?” You ask. Glancing at him, you find Will’s annoyance smoothed away, replaced with a somewhat serene consideration. He nods, concedes: “A little.” 

--  

Will designates you two things to chop (red and green peppers), and one thing to stir (vegetable stir fry). He keeps his back to you as he adds seasonings to your chicken (“It’s a secret recipe,” He insists before he shoos you away from the counter. All you get a glimpse of is the garlic salt).

You don’t know exactly what he puts on it, but when you take your first bite, it’s perfectly moist, and damn delicious. You don’t even bother to hide your groan, or the way you close your eyes to just savor—and try to work out one or two of the spices. You get hits of chili. Chili and…Cumin? Little pops of cumin—

“I’m not telling you,” Will’s mirthful warning floats across the table to you. Your smile widens, shaking your head and opening your eyes. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miller.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is this your secret recipe?” 

“My mom’s.” 

“Did she make it a lot growing up?"

“In the summer, mostly, for barbecues and stuff.” 

“Tastes pretty good from the oven.” 

He grunts, nodding. “Better on the grill,” He admits, “With a little char on it.” 

“Mm, noted. Are you and your mom close?” 

Will quirks a brow as he reaches for his drink, and you realize that you’ve been bombarding him with questions. Before you can apologize, he offers: 

“Pretty close. I try to see her at least once a week. It used to be more, but she said I was smothering her.” 

You smile, chuckling. 

“That’s kinda precious.” 

Will shrugs a touch, pushing his veggies around his plate. 

“My dad passed a couple’a years ago and I think coming around as much as I used to might’ve helped, but mom’s got her own life, you know. She’s got a book club…She’s apparently a bingo assassin.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Some people think she’s cheating.” 

“...Is she?” You tease. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her. What  she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in sneakiness.” 

“Is that where you and Ben get it?” 

He chuckles, ducking his head and poking at the food on his plate. 

“Some of it, maybe.” 

“And the rest?” 

“Training.” 

“Do you think Ben would agree?"

“Do you always ask this many questions?” 

You lean back, poking at your food in turn and fighting the embarrassed churning in your stomach. 

“Not always,” You mumble. You hear Will huff a soft laugh, and smile as he reaches across the table to take hold of your hand.

"I don't mind," He insists, thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. "Long as I get to ask a few, too."

--

"This was nice," You offer, almost woefully trailing Will to the front door. You've wanted to make a move since he put you to work in your kitchen—you've been thinking about it as the two of you were at your sink, doing the dishes; since you were sitting on your couch, talking about work, and the gym, and who Ben and Terry are facing next. You've been so close so consistently—arm to arm, hip to hip, knee to knee. The tiny touches have made you crave more, and Will's sweet smiles have made you do whatever you can think of to seek them out.

When he'd told you that he ought to get going, that he was meeting Ben in the gym at five the next morning, you were pretty sure that he was telling the truth—but you were already mourning the loss of the moment, and his warmth in your apartment.

"It was...Once you stopped pestering me about paying," He teases as he pulled on his jacket. You rolled your eyes.

"Well, how about I bring a bunch of labeless groceries over to your place, make you dinner, and see how you like it."

"I think I'd like it a lot," He insists, straightening his collar. "How's next week?"

And it's so swift and so smooth that you're certain you look more than a little gobsmacked. But you nod.

"Yeah. I can do next week."

"Friday?"

"Sure."

"Okay." He opens your door. "It's a date."

Just like that—so easy and open, and such a far cry to the first time he spoke to you at the gym.

"Good," You agree, leaning against the wall by your front door. "Let me know when you get home."

"I will." He leans in, and your breath catches in your throat as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip at the gentle prickle of his beard against your skin, eyelids fluttering as Will stays close. He raises his hand, gently sweeping his thumb against your lower lip and tugging it from your teeth.

"Don't do that," He shakes his head. "Don't bite your lip."

"Why?" You mumble, leaning into the flirty urge that's rising in you. "There someone else that's supposed to do it for me?"

Will breathes out a groan, resting his temple gently against yours.

"I'm trying to be good," He warns. You sweep your tongue across your lower lip, letting the tip graze his thumb, and grinning as he swallows thickly.

"This feels good to me." You reach up, cupping his cheek.

"You realize if we do this, you'll be up past 9:30?"

"I'm willing to risk it."

You think for a moment that he'll draw away, that he'll call it—

Your stomach drops as he pulls away and you hear the door shut, but grin as he crowds up against you, lips pressing warmly to yours. You sigh, looping your arm around your shoulders and keeping you close. His hands slide over your hips, drawing you into his chest. You slide your hand up, gently teasing your nails against the nape of his neck.

"Remind me to apologize to Ben the next time I see him," You mumble.

"Why's that?"

"You're going to be very late tomorrow morning."

tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[kiestrokes]

Omg so I can't stop thinking about high sex with ateez like ive been so insatiably horny everything I've smoked or had an edible I just AHHH i just want dick so bad

Stoned Sex with ATEEZ | NSFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader/You/Yn (vagina pov) Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Genre: headcanon, imagine, smut. Warnings: cannabis use (obviously), in theory both parties are high, so it is mutual, everyone is consenting, established relationship vibes.

Sexually Explicit Content: mentions of subspace, morning sex, rough sex, deep sex, feral (idk at this point just proceed with caution if you're just a vanilla person), rough touches, kissing, biting, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), humping, thigh fucking, surprise orgasm, orgasms.

🗝️ Note: let me know if I missed anything for the warnings, I am not really here in the realm of proof reading. Sorry, this took me a while to get to my atiny anon, hope it's enough to hold you over until you make it to a dick appt!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted here. 

Park Seonghwa Hwa appears unassuming, the two of you go through the usual nightly routine but once he's got you in the bed things shift. He's a needy cat, pawing across your body, you fit snug against his hips as he rocks softly into you from behind, moaning about how soft and plush your skin is when he's like this. He doesn't want to be inside you, just nestled between your thighs from behind as his slim fingers play your clit like an instrument, stroking moans out of your body with each pluck.

Kim Hongjoong High Joong gives me feral vibes...HJ is usually so reserved. But something about the THC sends his brain into overdrive. Hongjoong can't keep his mouth off of you. It's everywhere, until it's finally exactly where you need. Between your thighs. He's rocking his hips restlessly into the end of the mattress at each squirm and thrust of you pelvis against his chin.

Jeong Yunho He is probably the most aware while high, the only thing is his grip is a little stronger than normal. Yunho basically wants to embed himself in your body. For his hands to become one with your thighs. You wake up with lovely handprints in the morning reminding you of him.

Kang Yeosang I feel like stoned sex with Yeo is going to be soft, like how Hwa talks about him being cute drunk. He's whiney and very vocally appreciative of you and your body. It's slow and maybe a little intense, missionary with you rolling on top. Yeo loses it when you press him down into the bed. He dissolves a little into subspace when he's high.

Choi San guys (non-gendered) I am so sorry but THIS man, he falls asleep before anything can actually happen. He sleepily stokes your fire, but you're left finishing the job yourself. Sorry to my San biases, I wish I felt different about this one too. He's just a sleepy man. Definitely wakes you up in the morning for some slowww, drawn out sex. He's intense from how he gazes at you to the lingering pace at which he fucks you.

Song Mingi High Mings becomes big and pliable. He's also whiney and vocal like Yeosang, but a little less articulate. Mingi wants to spoon you, which quickly escalates into something else. His hands are all over you, drifting across your body. Crushing you into his lap as he tries to bury himself in you, deeper and deeper with each thrust. The two of you fall asleep with him still inside (rip you with that uti later).

Jung Wooyoung Feral like his hyung...this guy. He can’t get enough of anything. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He wants to be melted to you. Your lips, tongue, it’s drawn-out sex because he doesn’t want it to end. You're overstimulated in the best way possible; every nerve ending is firing.

Choi Jongho Is giggly. I can just FEEL it. Jongho is laughing but also giving you that intense gaze and each touch is purposeful. You're so keyed up from the laughter and foreplay that your giddiness spills over into a quick and extreme orgasm that takes you both by surprise. Jongho has never come so quickly, and you sure as hell never have.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[ma1dita]

omggg hope you had a great birthday!! do u mind writing a remus x reader who realize there’s smth more than friends between them, thank youuu

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

remus lupin x reader

a/n: gn!reader truly idk how this escaped me. me writing for my long lost husband in the year of our lord 2024?? this was so fun it felt like reuniting with an ex anyways fluff incoming

wc: don't... look at me... 1.3k

“So?”

“So what, Prongs?” Remus huffs, flipping through a textbook. Merlin knows why he even tries to study in the common room with the boys when all they do is badger him about nonsense.

“So are you and your little friend, well…more than friends? You two are attached at the hip, so where’d the little one run off to?” James teases, whacking his best mate with a throw pillow, “Get tired of you moaning and groaning about prefect duties?”

Well, that’s…you’re definitely not nonsense.

Remus blinks, brushing his hair away from his face and glaring at James before elbowing him straight in the gut. Tosser he is, acting like he knows anything about you or relationships in general when he’s been pining after Lily for years now.

You two are just friends.

Sirius lets out a loud laugh from his place at Remus’ feet. He’s leaning against the arm of the sofa, looking up at the sandy-haired boy with a cock-eyed grin, “If they were more than friends, Moony’s moaning and groaning would be appreciated and reciprocated, don’t you think?”

Peter snickers from the loveseat across the table. It doesn’t help with Remus’ mood, so he buries his head deeper into the boring History of Magic text, grumbling, “Don’t be crass. Just friends, is all. Don’t look too hard into it or you’ll melt what’s left of your brains.”

The three instigators look at each other, before looking back at their best friend. Just friends, he says. Sure, Remus’s the nicest guy around—a prefect even; the one that people count on to be the most morally sound out of all of them, the guy that people borrow notes from, politely laughs at jokes and makes people feel included in conversations. Sure, friends—they can believe that! Everyone wants to be Moony’s friend. But it’s the way they’ve seen him treat you that stands out.

Remus usually lags behind them now, breaking apart their formation in the halls (and yes, Sirius likes to be at the front of the diamond), pushing Peter up so he can wait for you after class. Also, anyone that could distract him from taking notes in Arithmancy is surely a force to be reckoned with (and a threat to Peter’s grades). He’s even gone as far as sidling up next to you during Potions and breaking their age-old rotation of picking partners since their first year (which left James with a botched Aging Potion, and Lily laughing at him as he limped out of class with graying hair and a hunchback).

So things were different nowadays, but one thing is for sure: Remus Lupin’s favorite game is being in denial.

“Maybe your friend knows about your furry little problem, Moons. Surely you really don’t think you’re gonna get any studying done with us?” James chuckles, before pushing his glasses up to clearly see the blush blossoming on Remus’s cheeks. Though it might also be anger, he couldn’t really tell—they’ve never seen him like this, ever; so blatantly obvious with how he feels about you even though he’d never admit it. It was quite refreshing to remember that Remus is still a normal teenage boy.

“You’re right, Prongs,” he huffs.

“I am?”

“I don’t know why I even bothered to try and study with you lot if all of you are too focused on me instead of studying!” Remus is shoving his books into his knapsack as the boys continue to rib at him to get him to stay. This essay isn’t going to write itself.

“Just playing, Moons!”

“Yeah mate, if you need an actual study date we know that’s not us, just hang around!”

Remus sighs as he’s looking at his friends' shit-eating grins as they go around him showing each other the map and pointing at something.

“What now?”

There’s a knock at the portrait, and the Fat Lady’s shrill voice could be heard from where they were sitting. Peter jumps up, sticking his face over the enchanted parchment as he giggles a bit like a schoolgirl, “It’s for you. Your friend’s outside.” They all cheer and laugh at Remus shaking his head, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder walking quickly away from them.

When he sees you chatting with the Fat Lady, it’s almost as if he’s in a stupor, studying every inch of your face until your eyes finally meet his and you grin and wave at him.

Just friends, he reminds himself.

“Hey Rem! Was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the library together?”

Your voice is a treat in itself, he thinks—the lilt and manner of it so sweet and rich it almost reminds him of his favorite chocolate.

Good thing he has a sweet tooth.

Walking down the hallway together your hand bumps into his several times in passing, fingers ghosting against each other as if they were dancing, too close and then too far. Friends can hold hands right? Remus’s heart flutters as he thinks of the possibility like solving an Arithmancy problem. He supposes the boys and him don’t necessarily hold hands, but he imagines holding yours would be way nicer.

Is he sweating?

His palms are sweaty, forget it, and you’re just friends! You’re telling him about your day like you both haven’t seen each other in years, but he even sat by you at lunch earlier, much to the rest of the Marauders’ surprise. Though Remus supposes you could even make Divination sound interesting—maybe even make him look in the stupid tea leaves to see if you’re in his future, furry little problem and all. He realizes he’s been staring a second too long, bumping into you lightly as you stop in front of the library.

“Haha, you okay? You’re quiet today, Rem. Something on your mind?”

A lot about you, apparently, thanks to his meddling friends.

Remus scratches the nape of his neck as he grimaces, cheeks reddening again and instead of a response, he opens the door for you and puts his finger to his mouth as if to say “Shhhh….” before Madam Pince starts a fit at either of you. That, or him actually having to say how he feels.

How he feels… Well…shit.

You make a beeline for an open table near the corner, tugging at his wrist like it’s not making his heart beat out of his chest and Remus tries to compose himself, but then you look at him with your pretty fluttering eyelashes and he knows he’s utterly fucked. Pulling out your chair for you, you squeeze his arm in thanks and scooch your chair closer to his.

“Rem?”

“Hmm?” he responds, a strangled noise crawling up his throat as he coughs slightly, his arm landing on the back of your chair before he panics then realizes he’d look like an arse for pulling away.

Not that he wants to.

“How did you know?”

His heart genuinely stops. There’s no way you’ve caught on that quickly—especially not with him just realizing how he feels about you, his friend that he wants to be more and there is nothing casual about what he wants to d—

“How’d you know I was at the common room? You walked out just as I was about to walk in, I thought it was kinda funny,” you giggle, brushing your hair behind your ear and he takes a deep breath.

You’re just friends. But he definitely wants to be more.

“The boys told me it was you,” Remus says, chewing on his lip, “Apparently they had a feeling.”

And now, so does he.

What’s worse is that Remus hates admitting when they’re right (which is rare enough in itself, he’ll never hear the end of it from their inflated egos).

What’s worst of all is that for the first time in his Hogwarts career, Remus Lupin ends up submitting an essay late.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

SHDNDJ IVE BEEN CALLED FOR YPU DONT KNOW HOW SPECIAL THAT MAKES ME FEEL OMG🤭 LOVE YOUU!!

ok so these are kind of just half-ideas that I’ve thought of that aren’t fully formed but I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something with your giant amazing brain😍 feel free to disregard these tho they’re kinda trash

- sejanus being really flirty with reader at the club place while he’s in district 12 (idk if that really fits his character but I feel like he could get bold at times🙏) and she’s just not really connecting the dots. her friend Lucy gray has to flat out tell her and reader has a giant revelation

- reader catches snow recording sejanus’ conversation about the rebellion and calls him out for it, stands up for her mans

-ok so this is kind of a song prompt— “Dear Arkansas Daughter” by Lady Lamb specifically the line “you with the dark curls, you with the water color eyes” not really sure what you could do with that, but maybe something with capital!sejanus w/ his curly hair

hope these give you some inspo pookie!!

love,

pooksters 💖

Your ideas are not trash!! Please feel free to send more or just to hop into my ask box to chat <3 I went with the first idea because it’s adorable but I might come back and write the other ones at some point

If the day that Lucy Gray was reaped was the worst day of your life, then the day that she miraculously returned to District Twelve as victor of the Hunger Games was the best. Ever since then, you spend most of your nights at the Hob with the rest of the Covey, sometimes taking the stage yourself but most of the time dancing and clapping from the audience.

Peacekeepers off duty are a normal sight in the Hob, but there are two in particular that seem to have a connection with Lucy Gray, two Capital boys that she knew during her time in the Games. You’re not sure how they came to be peacekeepers stuck in District 12, but you know better than to ask. They’re nice boys, and the blond one, Coriolanus, is absolutely smitten with Lucy Gray, you’re sure he’d do anything she asked. The other one, Sejanus, seems to have less of a connection to Lucy Gray but he’s kind all the same, and most nights he spends at the Hob are spent talking with you at a back table, away from the stage and the dance floor.

Tonight, Lucy Gray is taking a night off from performing and has joined you and Sejanus as you watch the rest of the Covey, Coriolanus never far from her side.

“I like your dress,” Sejanus says over the music, leaning over to speak into your ear so you can hear him clearer.

“Thank you, I made the one Maude Ivory’s wearing too,” you gesture towards the stage where the younger girl is busy singing.

“You’re very talented,” Sejanus turns to face you, giving you his undivided attention despite everything that goes on in the Hob.

“Oh, it’s not as hard as it looks,” you respond with a smile before pushing off the wall and heading to the bar, leaving a giggling Lucy Gray to deal with a despondent Sejanus.

“You’d think a girl as pretty as her is used to all the compliments and the flirting, but you’ve gotta be more obvious than that,” Lucy Gray tells him with a mischievous smile, as if you’d rather have the floor swallow you whole than have her share this information. Before Sejanus can respond, you’re returning with a tray of drinks for everyone in your little group, and he just about melts with the smile you give him as you slide the glass into his hand.

“Maybe, if you’re not busy, you could show me around some time? I’d really like to learn more about twelve,” he asks, and you’re quick to nod in agreement.

“Oh sure, I can show you all the best spots,” you reply kindly, but Lucy Gray knows you’re still not getting the message.

“He means you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen,” she whispers into your ear, loud enough for Sejanus to hear, “and the sweetest and the funniest and the most talented.” You look to Sejanus with wide eyes, as if Lucy Gray would be lying, but he’s nodding at you, despite the blush that’s taken over most of his face.

“Well, I’d still love to go,” you tell him, rewarding with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. The two of you spend the rest of the night talking, the chaos of the Hob fading into nothing while Lucy Gray silently watches with a smile.

[hyperfixat]

HELLO NOT A REQUEST BUT ID LIKE TO DROP A BRAINROT THOUGHT I HAD!

Just read through your "how the brothers show affection" hcs and I sat there and thought "man I'd probably do that back no questions asked"

>Attempting to mimic Levi's Purrs/Trilling (and completely mutilating it but oh my demons he is FLUSTERED. Ask him to teach you and bro passes away)

>Softly biting Mammon (open mouth and slobbering on his jacket lmao) or straight up doing bird-style contact calling (I chirp and whistle at my pet bird she loves it and demands pets)

>Headbutting Satan in the arm (and then maybe doing some face nuzzles like cat becuase I think he'd melt)

>Nibbling at Beel, like if he feeds you a food just nip softly at his fingers (or like absent-mindedly chew on his forearm)

>Brat vs Brat Violence with Belphie waking up to find his whole face has been licked (smug bastard about it because he kinda smells like you now)

Idk it kinda just clicked in my head bc I do these things a lot and I wanted to share my brain juice

HELLO thank u for the ask and your comments on the rb and I LOVE THIS!!

post they’re referring to here

- i think levi would pass away then and there if while you guys are just hanging out, you start trying to make those noises. i imagine mild confusion anf then it clicks and he goes red in the face and falls backwards.. its like u suddenly reminded him he likes u and thats so embarrassing on his end >_< silly little otaku

- the mammon point you have made the slobber part really resonates with me <3 i would love to get his jacket covered in drool no reason other than to be a menace, and its more than fair!! you probably have bite marks and assorted demon afflicted marks on your clothes!!

- with satan i can see a headbutt compitition brewing. he does it, you do it (but harder), he goes slightly harder, and the good thing is u can almost always win!! he knows at some point if you dont give up he’ll end up hurting you.. its all in good fun, so the only way u lose is if you get interrupted by someone

- biting beel.. i like to think the demons in general have thicker skin if u know what i mean… hilarious to think that he doesn’t even know what youre doing or that it happened the first couple of times you went in for a bite 😭

like beel nibbles u a little and goes back to whatever he was doing idk, then in the back of his mind he thinks ‘hm something touched my arm’ completely not registering that was u going ham trying to dent his thick skin

- personally im not a licker, but i can also see compitition between you and belphie where at the end you both have to take a shower and change clothes becasue your licking went too far ☹️

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: sunghoon + heart eyes]

pairing: park sunghoon x gn!reader genre/warnings: fluff ! very cute very suitable 4 all audiences ! / not proofread, povs might be a bit confusing?? it's written in 2nd person/3rd person omniscient but also in hoon's pov kinda?? idk ,, i hope that's able to be understood lolol <///3, also LOVESICK HOON <////3 wc: 0.8k (i could've written more but i liked where this ended) a/n: this goes out to all my hoon stans (ESP my hoon biased moots bc ik there's a lot of u MWAH ILY PLS ENJOY this is my apology for never interacting) / i feel like this is a bit different from my normal writing style so i hope this little ramble-y mess suffices !! <3

park sunghoon is sharp; the slope of his nose is precise and pointed, his skin is even and supple while still resembling a cool block of ice, and the fiery soul of a phoenix reborn from its ashes is hidden away behind his frigid gaze. but, when he's with you—an uncharacteristic spell of heat courses through his veins; the blood under his cheeks seems to boil as they turn an embarrassing shade of vermillion, and the mystic bird is freed as you unlock the cage he has built around his heart. the way you hold him in your hands is gentle, the way you touch him is kind, and the way you kiss him makes him weak.

when he's with you, park sunghoon allows himself the chance to be soft. he melts like the chocolate sandwiched between two cozy graham crackers; his brain turns to mush, his thoughts are blurred at the edges, and his bones feel a bit too much like jello. sunghoon doesn't bother to uphold his "cool guy" reputation when you're around because he knows you prefer the real him—the one that stumbles over his words after seeing you in his clothes, the one that can't make it through watching the titanic without bawling, the one who still tries to cook for you despite almost cutting his thumb off with a mandoline slicer.

a fool, but yours nonetheless.

however, in spite of all this pure adoration sunghoon harbors for you, he still can't manage to will those eight, little letters from his plush lips. they feel too small as they sit and marinate in his mouth; he turns them over with his tongue, running the muscle along each syllable and tasting the overly saccharine residue they leave behind. they're not enough, he thinks, they never will be.

so, until he finds the right words, sunghoon settles for quiet moments like these. a wall of storms is rolling in from the coast; through the open window in the dorm's living room, the refreshing scent of impending rain spreads throughout the space. soft bouts of rumbling thunder become white noise that is almost enough to lull him to sleep, and the weight of your head in his lap evokes a certain peace that settles over every inch of his body. as sunghoon runs his fingers through your hair, he giggles to himself each time you snore on the inhale. there's a patch of drool seeping into the fabric of his joggers, but he can't bring himself to care; to sunghoon, you are perfect—in every sense of the word.

in the darkness, sunghoon's phone illuminates your napping figure; squinting, he sees that the boys have messaged the group chat, but truthfully, sunghoon is far more concerned that the vibrations might startle you out of your slumber. glancing down at you once more, he picks up the device to take a quick look at the messages.

[jake] twenty dollars that hoon's ogling y/n when we get back

[heeseung] do u even have to bet?

[jay] yeah i feel like it's kind of a given at this point

[sunoo] i just hope they're not on the couch .. i'm trying to cast the barbie movie to the tv ://

[jungwon] good luck......where Else would they be??

[niki] as long as they're not sucking face idc.....

[me] ok gross ... we r not Sucking Face u Child y/n's asleep on the couch, so don't be too loud when u get back

[jake] BOOOOO GET A ROOM !!!!!

[sunoo] UGHHH why can't u guys be a cute couple somewhere ELSE??

[heeseung] hoon's too in love ... Obviously

[me] stay jealous losers &lt;3

with a small flick of his thumb, sunghoon switches his phone to do not disturb and places it face down on the arm of the sofa. as he gazes down at you, his eyes are filled with an immeasurable amount of appreciation and fondness and gratitude. he finds solace in the sight of the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest; your deep breaths are a melodious sonata accompanied only by the sound of rain pattering against the living room window. sunghoon feels his heart pounding in his chest, and he thinks it's a bit silly just how much of an effect you manage to have on him. he sits with his thoughts, staring at the wall before him; sunghoon ponders heeseung's text, and comes to the conclusion that the elder boy is right.

sunghoon is in love—with you, to be specific.

however, he decides that he's the perfect amount of in love with you.

slowly, the calloused pads of sunghoon's fingers graze over the planes of your face, traveling down to the exposed skin of your shoulder. gently, he traces countless, miscellaneous shapes into your flesh, hoping you can feel each and every one of the triangles and diamonds and hearts in your dreams. tenderly, he tugs the blanket that had slipped down to the taper of your waist back up to your clasped hands. quietly, sunghoon prays to the gods and asks for the courage to voice his emotions, despite knowing that there is no rush—there never is. not with you.

and after a moment, softly, sunghoon tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and murmurs, "i love you. more than you'll ever know, i love you."

[teamfortraven]

Caine flusters you to death idk

^ The exact file name on my computer, by the way.

This is an SFW tickle fic! Don't read if you don't like it. Also shout out to the three different references to the TADC fan song "No Exit" that I put in here :]

2,571 words.

I paced angrily out of the main room in the tent, hands curled into fists at my sides as I left my fellow circus members behind. There were no words that could describe how frustrated I was, how confused, and, though I’d never admit it, how scared. My eye twitched at the familiar sound of a long coat flapping behind me.

“Leave me alone, Caine”, I snapped, continuing towards my room. The floating ring master was not so easily deterred and continued after me, however, keeping up with no effort.

“Come on, (Y/N), it was just one time! I know you don’t like the dark, but-“

“Correction.” I spun on my heels to face him, becoming even more annoyed with the way he loomed above me in superiority. “I hate the dark. There is nothing I hate more than the dark. And what did you do?” I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly. He blinked as he stared at me, a few seconds passing, as if he had to process that I was actually demanding an answer from him.

“It was an adventure for everyone!” He immediately defended himself, still in that jovial tone he used to announce everything. “Not everyone is going to agree on what type of adventure they want to go on-“

“Anything! Anything else!” I threw my hands up in exasperation as he looked shocked that I had cut him off. “Anything but a power outage! I can’t even begin to tell you how horrifying that entire experience was!” I made drastic hand motions at him as I rambled angrily, his hands falling to his sides limply as if he was at a loss for words. “These adventures are supposed to be fun and distracting, Caine! You failed.” I pointed a finger at him accusingly, hoping to really drive the point home.

He gasped in exaggeration, putting a hand to his chest. “I… failed?” His eyes glanced around rapidly, his thoughts clearly racing. I nodded in affirmation; there wasn’t much I could do to show him how serious I was, but hurting his ego definitely helped me feel better.

“Yep, you failed — you had one job, Caine, and you couldn’t even do that right.” I began turning, throwing him a look over my shoulder as he continued to spiral. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be in my room until I feel better.” I paused, giving him one last angry glare. “Which will probably be a very long time.” He locked eyes with me one more time before I turned and opened my door a few feet down the hall, making sure to slam it.

I sighed and fell backwards onto my bed once I had locked it, eyes squeezing shut. I hardly ever liked Caine’s adventures… some of the others seemed to genuinely enjoy them, but I did not. All they were to me were distractions; they were definitely something I appreciated and subconsciously looked forward to, given their quality of keeping our brains from actively melting into goop, but they were never fun for me, especially this time around. Running around in the dark for god knows how long trying to find a generator sounded like something straight out of a horror game, and he thought that would be fun?

“Stupid dentist model”, I muttered, eyes slowly opening.

“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” I gasped and sat up in shock as I was met with his multicolored irises; he was floating right above me, and a little too close for comfort, at that.

“Caine, what the hell are you doing in here?” I demanded, slowly calming down from the unwelcome surprise. “I wanted to be alone, if I hadn’t made that clear!”

“Well…” He floated back a few feet, twiddling with his thumbs as he glanced away. He almost looked… nervous? “I felt bad for how I made you feel with the last adventure, so…” He looked back up at me, arms folding behind his back. “I figured I would come and fix the problem!”

“What…?” I paused, eyes narrowing at him. “Fix how?”

“By comforting you, of course!” He floated a little closer, his confidence seeming to return. I watched him nervously; ‘comfort’ could be practically anything in his book.

“You’re avoiding my question”, I said quickly, my eyes never leaving him as I withdrew my arms close to my chest. “What are you planning on doing?”

I merely blinked at him as he halted right where he was and put his arms out invitingly… oh.

“A… hug?” I scoffed without thinking about it, trying to collect my words as he looked taken aback by my reaction. “Look, Caine, I uhh, really appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. In fact, umm, I already am fine!” I forced a smile, eyebrows furrowed together regardless. I felt myself begin to sweat as he glanced me over; it was nerve-wracking knowing he was analyzing every single part of my body language.

“It would appear you’re lying, my dear; no need! I can surely have you feeling better in no time!” I sighed in defeat as he put his arms back out completely, nodding at me. It looked like he wasn’t going away until he was sure he had fixed what he had done. In all honesty, I had already forgiven him; he was strangely charming in his own goofy little way. I really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Plus, I guess I wouldn’t mind a hug…

“Alright”, I finally muttered, putting my arms out in turn.

I squeaked in surprise as he suddenly picked me up, squeezing me and subsequently cradling me in his lap. I hesitantly looked up at him; sometimes I wished he blinked. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, hugging him back. It was… nice. But after only a brief moment, he pulled back, still keeping me in his arms, studying me.

“What are you doing?” I was more confused than anything, but the sentence still began with a stutter, which again appeared to ring alarm bells in his head.

“Hugging does not appear to be enough, so I’m just testing something to see if this method is an option”, he said blatantly. I jumped as he suddenly poked me in the side; I immediately covered the area on reflex, my other hand grasping his wrist. I realized my mistake too late as I looked up and saw him appear to smile.

“Ah! Perfect! Then I should have no trouble cheering you up at all!”

“Wait!” I said in panic as he suddenly positioned his hand in a clawing motion just above my stomach, struggling to get out of his grip as he held me against him.

“You’re confusing me a bit”, he said, cocking his head to the side. “You ask for me to stop, and yet you’re still smiling. Having some mixed emotions?”

I realized I was, in fact, smiling, which was apprehensive to the idea of what he was planning on doing, and also just from nervousness.

“I’m just… I…” I struggled to find words, too flustered to outright say anything.

“You’re just… what?” He paused before he started slowly wiggling his fingers just above me, to my horror. “Maybe this will help you speak your mind?”

“Wait, no, I just-“ I shrieked as he tapped my stomach a few times, hands flying to grasp his wrist once again. “I’m just embarrassed! This is just really embarrassing, okay?” I rushed the words as he showed no signs of stopping, holding back nervous giggles.

“You do appear to be embarrassed, yet also conflicted. Going to push my hand away or just stay posed like that?” He stared at me expectantly, his hand frozen against me. I glanced around, fingers twitching against his arm as I struggled to accept that that was true. It had been a very, very long time since anyone had ever given me affection like this before. What was worse, that didn’t even account for the affection I probably lacked before I joined the circus. Given how easily flustered I was, it was obvious this was all foreign to me. I forced myself to look him in the eyes, only curling in on myself even more as I could tell the bastard was still reading me like a book.

“I…” I swallowed nervously. “I just… I’ve never had…” I found myself unable to look at him, or even continue speaking. There was something buried that felt dangerously close to the surface that I just couldn’t remember – something painful. My smile left my face.

“Oh, sweetheart…” My eyes widened at the sudden nickname, head swiveling to look at him.

“You don’t have to admit it!” I hid my face in my hands as he began slowly dragging a single finger across the front of my body in lazy patterns. “It’s obvious this is a… sensitive subject for you.” I could’ve screamed when he made that stupid pun, only leaning further into him in an attempt to hide.

“If you tell anyone…” I started, muffled by my hands. I shrieked as he suddenly squeezed my side, interrupting me.

“Tell anyone what, my little possession?” The mocking tone of his voice took me by surprise.

“Tell anyone that I… e-enough with the nicknames!” I squeaked, kicking my legs in reflex as he traced across my ribs.

“Tell anyone that you like being tickled?” He said the word with such ease that I gasped, staring at him. He looked down at me for a moment and I could see the gears in his head turning as he read my expression. Then, appearing to smirk (as much as giant teeth can), he snapped his fingers.

“Oh! Embarrassed by the word, hmm?” I rapidly shook my head, to which he only continued to stare, obviously not buying it. “So you are!” He sounded delighted, and I groaned, hiding my face again.

“So don’t say it!” I muttered, my voice sharper than I meant for it to be. I became incredibly suspicious as he went silent, so I looked up at him again. That same blank gaze was returned to me, unmoving.

“Tickle.”

I blinked in surprise before I attempted to sternly tell him off. “H-Hey! What did I just-“

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I screeched as he suddenly dug his fingers into my ribs, his other hand that was supporting me scratching under my arm. I struggled to pry his hands from my body, finding that he wouldn’t move at all. I quickly fell into helpless laughter, legs kicking.

“C-Caihaine stahap!”

“Stop what?” He said nonchalantly, feigning ignorance.

“You know exAHACTLY WHAHAT-“ I nearly shrieked as he pinched between my side and hip, squirming in his lap.

“Oh! Is this a bad spot?” I nearly fell into hysterics as he repeated the action as fast as possible.

“Just not- NOT THEHERE-“ I struggled to finish a single sentence, especially when he started rapidly switching places, a loose yet determined grip on me to prevent me from moving very much.

“Where’s this loud voice when you’re performing, my little superstar?” If I could’ve cursed him out for the snide comments he continuously made, I would have.

“Quit it!” I struggled to annunciate through a stream of giggles and my flustered complexion, his hand trailing down to my stomach, drawing more bubbly noises from me.

“Oh, you circus members are always SO delightfully predictable”, he mused, his hand jumping around to a few different spots, gauging my reactions with robotic precision. “Always leaving your weak spots open!”

“Y-You’re so bahackhanded!” I squeaked before finding myself thrashing in his grip and practically snorting.

“Hmmm, I have to disagree there. I’m much more front handed when it comes to playing with my performers! Are you seeing my point of view here?” He suddenly stopped only to wiggle his fingers in front of my face, eliciting nervous giggles as I sank even further into his lap in a subconscious attempt to keep them away.

“No response? Well, at least I know how to make you smile, right?” He moved to squeeze both of my sides at once before spidering; I somehow seemed even more trapped now than I was before, so I opted instead to cover my heated face rather than attempt to escape.

“Careful not to blush too hard… your facial polygons are getting artifacts, dear.”

“Ahand whose fault is thahat?!” I exclaimed, squealing as his hands began traveling up and down, definitely feeling the artifacts forming now if I hadn’t before.

“I’m only cheering you up! You’re the one that chose to be this sensitive…”

“IT WASN’T A CHOICE!” I protested through laughter. It was more than embarrassing to know this AI was managing to tease me into oblivion, able to manipulate my reactions like a puppet on a string. Worst of all, he was cheering me up, and pretty soon I would have to genuinely ask for it to end before he got suspicious-

“So, having second thoughts? Is this method working? Five star review?” He continued reciting practical nonsense, his fingers not missing a beat on wiggling into any hyper-sensitive areas they could find.

I realized it was pointless trying to cover it up; he already knew I was enjoying it. I’d just be prolonging the amount of sarcastic questioning I’d experience, which he’d then accuse me of also liking. I struggled to think of words, any words, while he practically played me like an instrument.

“Okay, OKAYHAY! IT WOHORKED ALRIGHT? NOW STAHAP!” I was surprised when he did finally pause, drawing me just a bit closer, those grotesque eyes within his jaws studying me briefly before he scooped me up, setting me back on the bed and then zooming into the air in front of me.

“I’m just messing with you! Of course it worked! That method has yet to fail me!” I wondered how many other performers he had done this to when he accidentally upset them…

While I was lost in thought, he floated closer, and I came back to attention to find him staring inches from my face. I drew back a bit in surprise before he spoke.

“Still embarrassed by it? Don’t be!” He punctuated his exclamation with a fancy spin. “Just don’t think about the fact that I could hold this above your head forever and there’s nothing you can do about it – it’s that simple!”

I groaned and set my flustered face in my hands… At least the artifacts that formed seemed to have mended themselves. “Right, Caine, that simple…”

I felt a hand gingerly set on my shoulder and looked back up.

“That… was a joke. I won’t tell anyone, ringmaster’s promise!” He nodded to himself and I smiled slightly.

“...Thank you.”

“Anyways, now that you’re a blushy mess rather than a depressed one, I’ll be on my way! You know where to find me!” He glanced about a dozen different ways, which was concerning but not unexpected, before poofing out of my room with a small eruption of cartoonish smoke.

I laughed a bit to myself after he left, contemplating the whole experience. While he struggled to understand things that were inherently human, it was obvious that he was trying… and, at the very least, I wouldn’t complain if he tried cheering me up that way again. Just as long as the last adventure never repeated itself…

[ddejavvu]

This came to me in a dream but reader doing an acupressure move on Aaron’s hand whenever he’s too frowny and tense that makes him see stars and basically drift up to nirvana and all the tightness in his body release and the first time they do it he’d be so confused like why do you want my hand??? but okay here take I- 🤨🤨😐😦😧🤤😵‍💫

Bonus points bc the team would be like YOU CAN TURN OFF HIS OSCAR-THE-GROUCH MODE??? NEVER LEAVE THIS TEAM.

Just wanted to share idk what part of my uncultured brain spawned acupressure theory this evening but I’ll take it 🤠<3

Aaron's grumpy again. Most of the time he is, at least within the confines of his work hours. It's hard to smile when you're looking for abducted teenagers, but if he frowns any harder, he'll get stuck that way.

"There has to be something we're missing," He presses, narrowed eyes surveying the crime scene photos, "This level of violence is extreme, there's no need for this much overkill."

"Maybe he's fascinated with the blood," Reid suggests, hands coming up to aid in his explanation, "Y'know, some serial killers only kill for blood. There's various reasons for it, maybe they collect it, maybe they drink it, maybe they have some event in their past that makes it significant to them, but whatever it is, the killing isn't what they need, the blood is."

"Well these are teenage girls," Derek sighs, "Maybe the unsub lost a girlfriend or a sister in a pretty bloody way? Like a shooting, or a car accident or something?"

The table falls silent, each profiler extrapolating possibilities. You're halfway to reaching a possible conclusion, a suggestion about hunting on your tongue, but you see Aaron's fingers brush together, and it distracts you. He does it when he's anxious, and you're noticing it more and more lately.

You reach for his hand instead of speaking. You'll help later, when Aaron isn't suffering like this. Your fingers brush against his skin as you take his palm into your grip, and he looks at you from the side of his eye disapprovingly.

"Y/N," He murmurs, but no attempt at keeping his voice silent masks it from the other silent members of the team, "Now isn't the time for personal-" You squeeze at a tender spot on his hand methodically, "Relations..."

His face relaxes, wrinkles and ridges ebbing away as his eyes flutter shut involuntarily. You grin as wide as possible while sitting in front of bloody crime scene photos, happy you're able to provide even momentary relief.

"What was that?" Aaron looks at you, half suspicious and half dazed.

"Acupressure," You announce proudly, "It helps, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Aaron nods, running his fingers over the patch of skin that you'd pressed on, "It does."

"Where'd you learn that?" Rossi leans across the table.

"I was getting migraines from stress," You admit, "It helps to calm me down."

"Well, you're more of a magician than Spencer, Y/L/N," Derek grins, "You just melted that frown right off his face."

"Actually, acupressure isn't magic." Spencer starts, and he pointedly ignores the sighs that echo around the room, "It's a pseudoscience that originates from Chinese alternative medicine, and it works by targeting pressure points in your body that are supposedly linked to your 'life energy'. There've been several studies surrounding it which produced varying positive results, the most remarkable of which have documented illnesses actually being cured." He blinks once, twice after finishing, lips curving up into a half-smile that pudges his cheeks where they end.

"Well, uh, card tricks aren't magic either," Prentiss is the first to speak, "So I guess none of us are wizard-ready."

[eletricheart]

Hiii! I have a request for Donna. You can write about Donna and f!reader who don't speak or understand English but they were injured and lost

Wounded

(Donna Beneviento x Reader)

*image creds to owner

Word count: 737

i did my best😭 hope u like it🫶 its all fluff i promise

ps: i didnt specify the gender, it didnt really matter in the story, i wrote a lot "you" so...idk

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

You were running through the snow, desperately trying to gain distance from whatever creature was chasing you. You didn't know what it was, all you saw was blood and a howl, then you ran.

Your legs were burning and the trees were leaving multiple scratches on your face. Suddenly you were pushed to the side, your brain barely registering the pain of falling down a slide.

Your breaths were coming in hard, your lungs were hurting and there was blood dripping down from your head to your eyes. All you could see was a grave surrounded by flowers, ironic since you felt like dying.

You tried to stand but after running, falling and having an unknown pain in your side, you fell back down.

At least the place was nice, the moon's shine left the flowers sparkling slightly.

You heard shuffling and thought the creature came to finish it's job until little doll feet stood in front of your face. You noticed the doll speaking to you, unfortunately you did not speak the language so just stared at her confused.

Your eyes were starting to close when the smells of fresh paint and leaves slightly woke you up. You could feel someone lifting you, wincing when she touched your wounds.

You didn't stay awake enough to see the path, all you remember is waking up in a bed in a strange room. Your body was covered in bandages and there was a doctor doll sitting next to you.

You barely could move but managed to turn your head enough to properly look at them, a chuckle left your lips hurting your ribs a bit.

You were close to falling asleep again when the door opened gently. A woman dressed in black was holding a tray with what appeared to be tea and some fruits. She settled it on the nearby table and approached you.

She pointed at your bandage. "The tea will heal it." Her voice wasn't louder than a whisper, cracking on a few words.

You furrowed your brows, not understanding what she says. You attempted to speak in your language but three words in and the woman shook her head, held one finger up(as in one second) and left.

You couldn't move therefore waited. She didn't take long to return with a notebook and pen.

She wrote down her name and pointed at herself. You nodded and told her your name, also asking her to carry on.

Donna understood your name but the rest was messy, so she tilted her head momentarily confused, to which you picked up on and looked at the tray.

The dollmaker nodded and laid it beside you, helping you into a sitting position. You ate in silence, she would occasionally stare at you but most of the time looked at the floor. Once you were done she took the tray and set it back on the table before moving back to sit beside you.

Donna kept wondering on how to speak to you, she could find a dictionary but there weren't many options in her house and she didn't know what language you were speaking. Perhaps she could ask the name, but she also wasn't sure on how to.

After what felt like ages for the dollmaker, she picked up the notebook and wrote a sad face. She presented to you and pointed at the bandages.

You were happy she was trying to talk to you, not hiding your smile and making a more or less gesture. You still needed to thank her and the language barrier was an issue, so you pointed at your wounds, gave her a thumbs up, pointed at her and made a heart with your hands.

Donna was thankful you couldn't see her face through the veil for she was blushing furiously, she still nodded politely but was melting on the inside.

The next days were the same, she'd come in, check your wounds and you'd talk through drawings. Angie absolutely adored this, believing it was all a game, eventually she understood you couldn't understand when she talked so the doll would tease Donna and tell her secrets to you. You would always look at her with a confused but smiling face.

Donna did find out which language you spoke and arranged a dictionary, now both of your days were filled with studying and giggling when one would say something in the other language.

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

requests are open: masterlist

[lilacsareinbloomagain]

I'm not sure if you've seen the hype around sky being in his undershirt and being ✨pretty✨ in the recent update, but could I please request reader fawning over Yan!sky in his undershirt or some general hc's for him?

Thanks for requesting!

Notes: This is the actual request, but I'll post some headcannons later for him as well!

Anyways, I, in fact, wasn't around when the whole hype happened, however after a quick search I was able to actually see what all of this was about.

Idk if this can be considered self indulgent, but my immediate idea when it came to writing this was that the reader liked those types of clothes from pinterest. Hopefully I'm not the only one, but those types of clothes just scratch a very specific itch in my brain.

I did not plan for the random suggestiveness at the middle of this oneshot, actually, I never plan, this just came out somehow.

The headcannons!

TWs: Light yanderism, slightly suggestive, the Links being creeps and clothing thievery.

Yandere! LU! Sky x Reader

This is a robbery, not romantic.

The hot, rocky ground has absolutely no respect whatsoever for your shoes.

Out of all the places you had to walk to in the past, along with these guys, this volcano had to be on the top 3 of the worst places you've ever visited.

Walking up the volcano certainly had you sweating, however, you felt like the drops of sweat could barely reach the fabric of your undershirt before they evaporated due to the sheer heat. You weren't even halfway up the path yet, but your legs were already disagreeing with the rhythm the group had adopted to advance as fast as physically possiple. In short, you were slowing down everyone, since the Links refused to let you walk anywhere that wasn't in the middle of them, so that if anything happened, you'd be protected.

A was a distant memory of yours resurfaced in your brain, something about some discovery channel documentary you had watched a long time ago about elephants and how they kept the weaker elephants in the middle of the herd when traveling, the weak being youngins, elderly or sick elephants. 

Frowning, you couldn't help but wonder in which category of weak you fell according to them.

Legend, who was staring keeping an eye on you through the whole trip, as he always did, noticed your struggle and elbowed Warriors, causing the man to let out a choked sound of surprise before Legend gestured to you with his thumb, scowling with his eyebrows furrowed, the same expression he always made sure to put on when something related to you in some way, covering up the softness of his eyes with a hard glare and a grimace.

Warriors, upon analyzing your stance for a second, was able to easily pick on how tired you were, and after taking into account how everyone else was, even if it wasn't as important as your well being, in the end he lifted his hand in a silent gesture for a break.

Nothing in that moment could rival or even equal to the feeling of fresh water coating your tongue and dry throat after so much of that burning sun and heat.

Your feet felt sore already, at this point it was like walking barefoot would be better than walking with those hard-soled boots. Then, you frowned once again, looking down to the bottom of one of your boots, it seemed like those boots were made for strolling on the soft grass, not hiking up a rocky mountain. Worst of all, the heat was so high you were sure you'd get burned as soon as your bare foot made contact with the ground outside the small cave you and the guys were sitting in, so you had no other option than just keeping the shoes on, even if you felt like the damn thing would just melt at some point.

Today, your mood had been dampened considerately, your face unable to catch a break from your constant sour expression. You felt as if you were Legend's replacement for a day.

After checking the really small cave and it's surroundings, the Chain finally seemed to deem it safe for now in a silent agreement between themselves. You were already sitting against some rock and letting the tension flow out of your body much before that.

Others joined you in sitting against rocks or the walls of the cave.

With a quick glance to Time, and a small amused scoff paired with a nod as response from the elder, Twilight was off most of his clothes, keeping only his bottom clothes on.

It was as if a domino effect had taken place, the rest of the Links around you began shedding their layers of clothing, the silence being disturbed by the sounds of fabric and other articles of their attire shuffling and eventually being either dropped or carefully placed on the floor, close enough to be quickly put back on incase something happened. Chatter began traveling around the group.

You had half the mind to move to do the same, your hands and eyes drifting down to the hem of your tunic, beginning to pull it up. 

The chatter suddenly seemed to die down, only one voice still talking. Your hands paused when your mind registered the sudden almost silence, your eyes slowly drifting back up to glance around, noticing how everyone was just… Staring at you…

Even for someone oblivious, the hunger eagerness in their gaze was undeniable.

Naturally, your eyes searched for Time, seeking some kind of refuge, surely the elder would have something to say about this, right?

Wrong. Time's only functional eye was half lidded, trained on your form with the same desire interest apparent in his gaze, you felt like a mouse under the watchful gaze of a hawk, his head tilted as his cheek rested on his fist, the hints of a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

This stare of his felt almost physically uncomfortable, unnerving in a way, like his glare, but worse.

Confusion settled over both you and Wind, who only now seemed to notice that despite all of his talking, he wasn't receiving any response. Looking up just as confused as you once were, his eyebrows furrowed as he traded baffled glances with you.

"What happened? Why the hell is everyone so quiet?" Wind asked, a confused pout settling on his features, his arms defensively crossed over his chest once he noticed the attention of the group was on you, he didn't like one bit how they were looking at you, his "I'm ready to throw hands" stance made that obvious.

The thought made you internally chuckle. Easing up the tension present in the cave as you let the fabric fall back over your tights, releasing it and giving up on the idea of taking it off. This seemed to finally awaken the others, making you grateful for Wind's brotherly protectiveness, your unease fading a bit as they went back to normally talking along with friendly bickering from Warriors regarding Wind's tense figure.

"Goddesses, I didn't remember Eldin Volcano being this hot!" Sky groaned from somewhere on your left, making you turn to look at him.

He still kept his undershirt on despite shedding all his other top layers, seemingly still too shy around you and the others to get that bare. 

You took a moment to admire his shirt and how pretty it looked on him. You just had to take a picture of him in that shirt to post on pinterest later, such a sight surely belonged there.

That was for later though, you didn't have any signs of internet just yet.

"Who gave you the right." Your voice sounded more like an affirmation than a question, your face blank, void of any emotion as you uttered those words, leaving Sky unsure of how he should respond or even react, should he respond at all? The way you spoke confused him more often than not.

"Hah- Uhm… Hylia…? I am not sure I know what you are talking about exactly…" Shy responded slowly, stuttering a bit. The almost apologetic expression on his face made you want to both retreat and smother him with hugs, you know those moments when you find something so cute that you just want to squeeze it as hard as you can? That was how you felt right now.

Sky felt lightly threatened by your blank expression.

It was quite funny to you, his reactions. He'd hardly ever know how to respond to your kind of humor, but his awkward answers and bashful smiles made up for it, making you either grin along or just flat out laugh, as if he had actually responded correctly to whatever random stuff you had just sprouted with a fully straight face. Your reactions to his reactions made him feel embarrassed but also happy, very much glad your attention was on him.

"Who gave you the right to be so pretty?" Your eyes softened, your blank expression falling as a starry-eyed one took place, the way you were looking at him made his heart melt, warm blood being pumped up to his cheeks, a redness taking over his face and the tips of his ears, almost spreading to his neck. Sky was stunned into silence, he didn't even try to speak, he knew from past experiences that trying to speak in this state would lead him to stumble over his words, only embarrassing himself further, like he was a teenager once again.

He resorted to slightly covering his reddened face, his hand coming up to scratch at the side of his head as it tilted down a bit, an timid yet flattered smile tugging at his mouth. His teeth dug into the soft flesh of the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the smile at bay as to not grin at you like a maniac.

Just a simple compliment and he already felt like he had been reduced into a puddle of himself, melted and absolutely compliant to you, how you didn't see his adoring gaze up at you was a mystery, it wasn't like he was doing a good job of hiding it anyway, unconsciously trying to make himself smaller than you all the while trying to appeal even more to your eyes, puffing out his chest. His gaze dropping to your mouth every now and then, your lips looked absolutely delectable framing that ethereal smile of yours.

His cheeks burned brighter at the mere thought of sealing his lips against yours.

"You should definitely wear it more often." You blurted out, too busy ogling at the shirt to notice you said it out loud, too busy to notice the amused and flaunted closed lip smile taking over his grin. 

"I mean, I kind of do wear it everyday…"  A soft snort left his nose, filling your ears as his voice followed, smug, he had definitely seen you looking, making you scoot back once you realized where you really were, leaning into Sky's personal bubble and reaching out to touch the fabric of his shirt not that he minded anyway. "It's just under my clothes most of the time." 

He chuckled quietly, watching with great interest as rich shades of red flushed your face, your cheeks gaining a whole new coloration with his teasing.

The change in dynamics wasn't unwelcomed in any way by him, in fact, Sky found it nice that he wasn't the one flustered this time around.

You, however, were wondering whether you liked the shirt more or the way the shirt fit on Sky. God only knew how badly you wanted to feel that fabric, it was probably cotton, and hand made according to Sky's measurements, meaning it was made to fit him perfectly, way more than it'd fit on anyone else. Yeah, you could see that.

Without noticing, your previous grimace and sour mood had been replaced by a stupid smile on your lips. Sky had this type of side effect on you.

"You know what I meant." Your reply came out in an embarrassed huff, frowning jokingly with your arms crossed, trying to conceal the blush in your face so it would, hopefully, go away, that is, if you were lucky.

You weren't, not really.

"Yeah I know." He replied, a cheerful yet sweet smile on his face, still eyeing your blushy complexion. "I'll make sure to 'wear' it more, at least in situations where we're not being attacked by a dozen of monsters." He joked, rendering you unable to keep a shit-eating grin off of your face.

Sky shyly smiled back at you, mindlessly smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt while you kept staring, him gladly letting you do as you pleased, drinking up in your attention.

The heat only seemed to grow as the day progressed into mid-day, the sun directly above the cave you guys were in. You'd managed to take off your tunic and gear by now, and it had already helped with relieving some of the suffocating heat, even if you kept your undershirt in place, on your body, overly aware of the multitude of eyes lingering on your form every now and then.

As a result of that same heat, Sky finally succumbed and took off his undershirt, the pretty one you adored, and simply placed it on the dusty, dirty floor, just like that, not treating the white shirt with any respect, completely ignoring the possibility of it getting stained or wrinkled, which pulled an indignant gasp from you.

His attention was once again brought to you by your gasp, puzzled until his eyes really landed on you and processed just what exactly you were doing.

In a quick movement, you snatched Sky's shirt from the floor, forgetting about how tired and sore your feet were in order to dash to the other end of the cave with the shirt clutched in your arms. Despite his recklessness with his clothes, you had to thank Sky for leaving his shirt so easy for you to just kidnap.

The blond's shock faded after a bit, prompting him to spring up and chase after you, not necessarily mad, but definitely not used to having his clothes stolen.

Even so, his mirthful laughter rang out, serving only to fuel you in your attempt to flee from your chaser, still clutching his property to your chest.