#he really does make this shit look smooth and easy

[quarterlifekitty]

I don't know if you've answered this before (I don't think you have? Or at least not for as long as I've followed you) but anyways

Do you have any thoughts on what kind of drunk personalities the boys have (at least for those that do drink)? Like, if they have a distinctive drunk personality, are any of them like overly feral, horny, affectionate, giggly, moody etc. when they're drunk?

And if any of them partake in recreational drug use, is their high personality the same or any different from their drunk personality?

Gaz is almost insufferably giggly. He’s the type of dude who gets drunk and starts kissing you until all he can say is “…hi” with a little smile when he looks at you.

I could say so much about Soap. But I think the funniest answer is that he’s sober. He’s the mom friend when they’re out drinking. He’s getting everyone home. (He used to drink too much when he was younger, now it just grosses him out. He was the frat boy who was always throwing up.)

Ghost will get chatty. As in, he’ll start being too honest. He’s gonna start saying things that Sober Ghost had the sense to keep inside. Things like “I’ve always wondered what your cunt would feel like” when he’s maybe said, cumulatively, 100 words to you in the like 3 years you’ve known each other.

Price is also saying too much. Asking shit like “so why aren’t you married?” (like a 6 year old unsupervised at a family function). He will then proceed to tell you all of his opinions on the relevant subject.

I think König is one of those people who gets really outgoing and smooth when he’s drunk. And then the memories of how he acted haunt him and he vows to never go out drinking with people again. Until the next time you ask him to go, that is.

Nik is the horny drunk. His hands are all over you and saying “What, I can’t show my love to my malýshka?” If you try to get him to stop. He’s constantly trying to pull you into his lap. He’s bragging to people about you incessantly. He does this regardless of whether or not you’re really dating.

Nikto refuses to get drunk in front of others because when he’s drunk it’s really easy to make him cry.

Rudy starts picking fights. He’s usually so composed, but when his cheeks are flushed with alcohol… It’s like his blood just gets hotter. Especially if you’re around. Because then that stupid part of his brain that wants to look tough in front of you starts flaring.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

so he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[kunareads]

bed chem interlude

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

in which you write the song

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 0.8k

some surprise context before the last chapter (friday). i love them so bad!!!!!

content: FLUFF and some implied smut (nothing explicit)

18+ please <3

your body still hums from last night. a dull ache between your thighs, the lingering warmth of satoru's hands. reminders of the way he touched you like you were his, how he made you tremble.

you shift under the weight of it, stretched across the bed in your soft pajamas. your notebook rests in your lap, a pen twisting between your fingers, and it feels like the page is filling itself.

i was in a sheer dress the day that we met

your lips part, smiling faintly as you remember the way he looked at you that night, the undeniable electricity of it. the way you both wanted to take it further but let the anticipation marinate for an entire week instead.

it's almost embarrassing how easily the words come. but then you think about him—the smirk, the way he said your name—and you know you're not changing a thing.

+++

it's not even 1am before satoru's making up an excuse to leave the premiere. something about an early call time, a meeting, jet lag—whatever gets him out the door fastest.

the second he's free, he's already texting you.

satoru [12:48AM]: meet me in the hallway?

and before you know it, he's pulling you into the dimly lit corridor, grinning like he's just pulled off a heist.

"god, i missed you," he murmurs against your jaw, leading you toward the elevator. his hand settles low on your back, fingers pressing into silk, teasing.

your eyes flick up to him, unimpressed. "it's been, what, four days?"

"seventy-eight hours." his lips curve. "not that i'm counting."

the second the hotel room door clicks shut, he's on you. fabric slides away like an afterthought, and then you're breathless against the door.

he takes his time with you, slow, indulgent, like he wants to memorize every reaction, every sound. you don't say it, but he feels it—the way your body melts into his, the way you let him hold you like this once you're done.

how you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

you hum softly against his shoulder, half-awake, half-lost in thought.

+++

your phone buzzes next to your pillow, and you know it's satoru before you even check. you fumble to answer, voice thick with sleep when you mumble, "hello?"

there's a pause, and then—"shit, did i wake you?"

you smile. he sounds awake. you exhale a sigh, curling deeper into your blankets. "what time is it?"

"a little late for me," he says, "a lot late for you,"

you roll onto your back, blinking at the ceiling. "then why are you calling?"

"’cause i'm not in your timezone," he says, a little too smooth, a little too fond, "but i wanna be."

you roll your eyes with a force only he can bring out of you. "you wanna be in my timezone?" you repeat. "that's the line you're going with?"

"mm, i think you liked it."

said you're not in my timezone, but you wanna be

there's a silence as you make that mental note—not awkward, just easy. the kind of quiet that settles warm in your chest, like an arm slung around your waist.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs eventually.

you hum, eyelids heavy. "stay on the phone."

and he does, until you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

+++

it's late. the kind of late where the whole world is asleep except for the two of you. the tv hums low in the background, playing some show neither of you is really watching.

satoru shifts, pressing in closer, breath warm against your shoulder. his fingers trace small, tentative circles against your hip. you can feel the cheesy pickup line about to leave his lips. but he surprises you.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

he's watching you, half-lidded, loose, but not joking.

you study him, waiting to see if he'll crack a smile, try to make you laugh. but he doesn't. he just looks at you softly, a little hopeful.

how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means, and i'm obsessed

it's an easy answer. obvious, even. "yeah. okay."

he exhales, like he was holding his breath, and tugs you closer, nuzzling into you. you let him, let yourself sink into his warmth.

"yeah?" his voice is softer now, like he can't quite believe it.

"yeah," you murmur, playing absentmindedly with his hair.

he stays quiet for a moment, then breathes out something small, something you almost don't catch—"thank you," like you handed him something fragile.

it tugs at your chest, makes you tilt your chin and press a kiss to the top of his head. "you're cute."

he only hums, his hold on you tightening, his breath evening out, like he could fall asleep just like this.

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

nonidol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

2.3k words, fluff, comfort, reader is sick, technically a college au, light swearing, mentions of food, mentions of cold medication, tbh i know i advocate for platonic fics but i am also just a girl. so he does pine a little lol, slice-of-life-ish, barely proofread

a/n: there is like no plot, i just am feeling ooey-gooey about svt rn heh :') been watching so much gose recently and it's healing my soul

Yoon Jeonghan was many things, but oblivious was not one of them. “Oh my god, you're sick,” were his first words to you when you opened your apartment door. His voice was droning, perfectly unimpressed, but it masked the concern attempting to skirt its way to the surface. 

“It's not that” —your sorry attempt at denial crumbled like a house of cards as you turned away to cough into your elbow. The taste of metal lingered in the back of your throat and you winced, reaching into your bag to grab your water bottle. After swallowing down a generous helping, you said to him without looking him in the eye, “I'm fine.”

Jeonghan blinked. “That's really cute,” he replied with a thin smile. “Back inside.”

“But Jeonghan—”

“No.” He grabbed you firmly by your shoulders and steered you back into your apartment, his body waddling in behind you because of your balking in the doorway. He kicked the front door shut, shucking his shoes off with uncanny accuracy into an empty space on the shoe rack. “Shoes off, Yn-ah. Don't start an argument you won't win.”

You grumbled under your breath, but did as you were told. All the while, Jeonghan smoothed a hand over his jaw, performing mental gymnastics. How did you get sick? How much time did he have before he needed to get to campus? Could he reasonably make you soup before he needed to leave for his exam?

The first question was easy to answer. He internally smacked himself—last night: your runny nose, the vitamin C powder you added to your water, your shivers on the walk home from the library. Oh, fuck. He should have driven. Why did he make you both walk in that cold?

Guilt coursed through him as he directed you back into your bedroom. 

It was a quarter to 8, meaning he didn't have time to make you ramen and make it to his exam before the doors closed. 

“I have so much shit to do today” —another horrid cough rattled through you, and Jeonghan frowned to himself as he snatched the extra blanket out of your closet— “I can't… Hannie, there's so much I need to—”

“I know, Yn-ah,” he said softly, eyes sad and tender as he bundled you up in three layers until you were likely unable to unwrap yourself. He perched by your side, his palm grazing over your forehead to take your temperature. Hot. Not good. “But if you don't take care of yourself now, it'll only get worse.”

He glanced at his phone. Five to 8—he still had fifteen minutes. It was a blessing that you lived closer to campus than he did. 

“I hate when you're right,” you muttered. The lower half of your face was tucked beneath the edges of your blankets, so all he saw were your tired, glaring eyes. 

He smirked to himself, a fuzziness warming his chest. So petulant. “You always do,” he mused. “What did you have to do today? I'll try and help out as best I can.”

Your glare softened at the corners and your eyes flitted away from him. “It's okay. I'll deal with it all when I wake up. I—wait.” Your eyes shot wide open. “You have that exam today! You have to leave—what time is it?”

“Yah, I'll make it,” he laughed. “Worry about yourself.”

“You literally said last night that you were worried about failing—”

“And now I'm worried about you,” he countered. Satisfaction brought an impish twinkle to his eyes as you scowled at him again. “But fine, I'll leave if you insist.”

He rose from the edge of the bed, picking his backpack up to sling over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

With his back toward you, he could allow himself to grin. “What was that?” he called back innocently. 

“Don't fail.”

He huffed out another laugh as he reached the threshold of your bedroom doorway. Jeonghan wondered briefly if he should coax that thank you out of your mouth again, but he really did need to leave. It was awful. Everything in him was ready to throw away this exam to stay here with you. “Go to sleep, honey. I'll see you when you wake up.”

Three hours later, Jeonghan shouldered his way into your apartment, his backpack on his shoulders, his mind far away from that disgusting exam he finished, and his hands occupied with a grocery bag of items he picked up on his way here. When he left earlier, he had swiped your keys on the way out so he could let himself back in without waking you up. He dumped those very keys onto the table by the door, the gazillion key chains attached to the one carabiner clattering inelegantly loud. 

He glanced over at your closed door, hoping he didn't just wake you up. 

With a little less noise, he abandoned his backpack by the couch and made his way over to the kitchen. While he had made it in time to his exam, it had taken more willpower to center his attention on the exam itself rather than letting his mind wander to all the things he wanted to do after he was done. The to-do list spanned about five items: buy cold medicine and orange juice, decide on what food to make you, buy the ingredients for that food, persuade your TA to let him pick up your graded essay (that one, he saw on a sticky note by your desk), and come back to take care of you. 

(If the TA grading his exam took note of the small list he'd jotted down in the top corner of page five, no they didn't.)

There had been several ideas of what he could make you once he was free. He had stared at the row of vegetables in the produce department for a good ten minutes before he decided on something less usual. He could make instant ramen, but that didn't seem like the healthiest option for him to feed you. There was also seaweed soup—did he have the time to go to another store to find what he needed? No. 

His next great idea was something simple, but delicious: chicken noodle soup. 

Jeonghan rummaged around your cabinets, locating the things he needed—cutting board, knife—he opened a door and sighed to himself. So you did have pasta already. Great. 

He examined the box of dried elbow macaroni and compared it to the bowtie pasta he'd picked out. “Mine’s better,” he muttered, shelving your macaroni and bumping the cabinet closed. 

In the largest pot he could find, he brewed up a hearty chicken soup, using the bones from the rotisserie chicken he bought to add more richness to the broth's flavoring. Every carrot, onion, and celery stalk he sliced, and every piece of chicken he shredded, was done deftly and with great care. This was for you, after all, and if this soup could help you get better, then he would make it the best damn thing you'd ever tasted. 

There were plenty of things Jeonghan didn't want to do or weaseled his way out of, but he could be running on one hour of sleep, and he would still haul his ass up to make kimchi from scratch if you asked him to. 

He was stationed behind the stove, tasting the soup for adjustments, when he heard your bedroom door open. 

Jeonghan peered over his shoulder and smiled at the bundle of blankets waddling your way out into the main room, your hair sticking up in odd places, and your eyes still at half mast. “Good morning, sleepy head. How're you feeling?”

“Meh,” you said hoarsely, clearing your throat. You squinted at the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. “What're you making? It smells nice.”

“Hm? Oh, I made you some soup. Go take the medicine on the counter and sit down; I'll bring you a bowl.”

As he reached over to grab another pinch of salt, he heard you tearing open the box of cold medicine behind him. 

A moment passed by of quiet, but his heart leapt straight into his throat as he felt a soft weight rest against his back. “Thank you, Hannie,” you murmured, forehead pressed between his shoulders. 

There were about a dozen things running through his mind at the moment—things he could say, things he could do. He was an ounce of willpower away from melting on the spot, but the heat rising from the soup pot kept him upright. “Aish… thank me by getting better, okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgment and lifted yourself off his back. When you hobbled away to sit down at the table, Jeonghan couldn't brush away the feeling that the spot your head had rested was now cold. 

“How was the” —cough— “the exam?” 

Jeonghan glanced over at you as he carefully ladled soup into two bowls. He hummed, “Could've been better, but can't really do anything about it now.”

“I'm sure you did good,” you replied, holding out your hands like a kid waiting for their turn to get candy from a jar as Jeonghan made his way over to you with the soup. “You always say you did bad when you actually scored in the top ten percent.”

“Careful, honey, it's hot.” Jeonghan continued to hold the bowl even as you cupped it in your hands, until it safely reached the table. Only then did he seat himself down adjacent to you. “Yeah, well, you always said I should be more humble,” he joked.

You picked up your spoon and gestured at him with it. “Humility and lying are different things,” you said pointedly. “Anyways, thank you. This looks really yummy.”

“I don't lie,” he drawled with a twinkle in his eye. He leaned his cheek against his fist and watched as you took a spoonful and gently blew on the hot liquid. The delight that lit up your face was enough to make him happy for a century. He inclined his chin. “Good?”

“Very good. Sometimes I forget that you're good at cooking, too.”

“Not like Mingyu though,” he chuckled and brought a spoonful up to his lips. 

You shot him a look. “You don't always have to compare yourself, Hannie-ah. I'm not talking about Mingyu right now.”

Maybe I just want to make sure, he thought, then brushed it under that large, metaphorical rug in his mind. Jeonghan gave a half-hearted shrug. 

Your mouth flattened into a displeased line. His grin widened. 

When the both of you finished as many helpings as you had the appetite for, Jeonghan graciously offered to wash the dishes. He practically anchored you to the couch by wrapping you in yet another blanket—it was a double-edged sword; you were quite cute like that and he had half the mind to ditch the dishes. Once done with his task, he plucked out a dose of cold medication to take for himself, as well. 

You eyed him from the couch as he swallowed the pills with a glass of orange juice. “Did I get you sick already?” you asked, your voice having become more nasally from your stuffy nose. 

“Not yet,” he said, “it's just preventative measures since I'm gonna be hanging around you.”

“You're not leaving?” 

Your words were one thing, but the way you peered over the back of the couch at him and the upward intonation in your voice told him something else. He smiled to himself as he walked over to the couch with his juice. “No, I was going to help you finish your work for the day, but if you want me to leave, I—”

“Only if you're not afraid of getting sick,” you said quickly. 

He sighed with an air of melodrama. “I suppose I can stay after all.” He brought out his laptop and the essay he finagled from your TA, vaguely mentioning something about his careful white lies in order to accomplish his mission. It was truly something only Jeonghan could pull off and get away with. 

The first item on your to-do list was to send out a couple emails. 

Jeonghan felt the weight of your head fall onto his shoulder, and he glanced down at you in amusement. “You're not falling asleep on me, are you?” he teased, his fingers paused from the email he was typing out while you dictated the wording. 

You shifted your head. “No, I'm still awake. Do you think this sounds too bubbly?”

“It’s not too bubbly,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “But the thing is you're not this agreeable in real life—aish! Haha, hey! Don't hit me!”

He could imagine your cute, little scowl. “I am incredibly agreeable.”

“Yes, yes.” Jeonghan lightly pat your head. “You're very lovely, Yn-ah.”

You chose to ignore the impish tone in his voice. It was what he wanted you to do anyway—believe that he thought you were lovely.  

It was difficult to parse out how much time passed, but at some point, the TV was turned on to a random channel playing some 90s sitcom, and his laptop was ditched on the coffee table. Jeonghan's legs ended up sprawled across the length of the couch while your layers of blankets covered both of you. Your head rested comfortably on his chest as he continued to watch TV in silent contentment.

Jeonghan was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't oblivious to the fact that you took the wrong cold medicine. The box he bought had both daytime and nighttime meds, the latter of which contained melatonin to aid with uninterrupted sleep. He didn't say anything earlier when he realized, but it wasn't like he could say anything now. 

He glanced down at your face, his hand cupping the back of your head with too much tenderness for friendship. You were asleep; there was nothing he could do, no jokes to make or fun to poke. 

Him, his thoughts, and you. 

But this was fine. He was happy and warm like the perfect bowl of soup filling an empty stomach, and he had no intention of leaving until he knew that you were better. As his eyes slowly drooped closed, he sank further into the blankets and your hold, soul nourished.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed <3

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @floatingpluto @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @eunseok-s @bless-311 @leaz-kpop-life @fluorescentloves @thesunsfullmoon @haechansbbg @kpopjackie @jundundun @http-gyu @mars101 @moonyswolf @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @thecarnivaloflies @p-d1ddy @thatonedemigodfromseoul @foivetimesthecharm

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

60 Seconds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: heavy angst, rape (explicit), being bound and gagged and blindfolded, kidnapping, heavy trauma

Request by anon: Would you write something with Spencer x reader (s7 ish doesn't really matter) where you're taken or kidnapped and when they find you, you keep yelling like 'no, no, don't hurt me' and shit like that cuz you don't realize it's them, and Spencer rushes to you and holds you but you're like trashing and hitting his chest until you break down in sobs pls that would be the cutest help. Also love me some team reactions to it happening skskdks OKAY BYE

Summary: One minute can change everything. A lot can happen in sixty seconds, and your entire world is turned upside down when you’re taken off the street in broad daylight. Spencer and the team fight to save you while you’re fighting to stay alive.

Square Filled: laid on a stretcher for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Everything can change in one minute.

That’s sixty seconds.

You pass by the bank you and Spencer have a joint account with. Three seconds. You see a woman and her child playing with bubbles across the street at the park. One second. You wait for the crosswalk light to turn green. Twenty seconds. You cross the street with a group of people. Ten seconds. You stop at a flower stand and buy two roses, one for Spencer and one for you. Twenty seconds. You turn the corner onto a desolate part of the sidewalk. Two seconds.

A van pulls up next to you and two men reach out and grab you. Six seconds.

One minute.

You’ve heard of stories where people are taken in plain sight and in daylight, but you never think it’ll happen to you. You’ve heard stories of victims being tortured, raped, and abused, but you never think it’ll happen to you. You’ve heard stories about victims needing a lifetime of therapy knowing it won’t fix them, but you never think it’ll happen to you.

Until it does.

Spencer moves about the office with you on his mind, excited to go on a lunch date with you. You’re not part of the BAU but you try to visit as much as you can. You have your own art business that you sell out of your apartment. You like to paint, make vases, and occasionally sew. Business has been booming for the last year so you’re not worried about not finding a “real” job any time soon.

Lunch time comes but you don’t show up, and Spencer thinks you might have gotten lost in a project. That tends to happen a lot, so he calls you to see if you’re going to be free any time soon. You don’t answer.

“Reid, JJ got something for us.”

Spencer puts his phone away and will call you later when he has a minute. Just like that, you’re pushed to the back of his mind. He has victims to save and bad guys to put away.

He just doesn’t realize that the victim this time is you.

The two men who took you were only the delivery boys. The men who have you are much worse. Spencer must be on a case if he hasn’t tried to contact you. Maybe he has. You’re not sure. You’re also not sure how many hours have passed or if it’s the next day. Time stops when all you can think about is pain.

They put a blindfold on you as soon as they stole you from the street so you’re not sure where you are in the world or what the room even looks like. All you know is that it stinks in here like dirt, sweat, and blood.

You’re hanging from the middle of the room by your wrists, your toes barely touching the ground. You’ve been suspended like this for so long that you’ve lost all feeling in your hands due to the rope biting into your wrists and cutting off circulation. If you’re lucky, they’ll fall off.

You’re stripped bare to just your panties. Those men love easy access where they can get it. Cuts adorn your once smooth skin and dried blood cake down your body. If you don’t give them what they want, they get violent. You’re surprised you’re not dead right now. They’ve beaten, raped, and abused your body multiple times in a single day.

You just hope that wherever you are, Spencer comes soon. You’re not sure how much of this you can take.

Spencer comes home after a grueling seven days in the field. All he wants to do is take a hot shower and snuggle in bed with you.

“Y/N? You home?” Spencer turns on the light but you’re not there to greet him like you normally are. “Y/N?”

He walks to the bedroom thinking you’re sleeping but frowns when he sees the bed is perfectly made as if no one has used it in a while. He checks the guest room but you’re not in there either. He takes out his phone and calls you but it goes straight to voicemail. He checks the Life 360 app only to see your phone is located in some ditch on the side of the road.

Now he starts to panic.

“Can’t get enough of this team? You just saw us for a week straight,” JJ jokes when she answers his call.

“Is Y/N with you?”

“No.”

“Have you seen her or talked to her all week?”

“No. What’s going on?”

“I think she’s missing,” he panics.

“Who, calm down, Spencer. Why do you think she’s missing?”

“She’s not home, she hasn’t been answering all week, her phone goes straight to voicemail, and I can see her location is in a ditch somewhere off the side of the road. You don’t think…”

“I don’t think what?”

“Do you think she was taken by the Daylight Killer?”

The Daylight Killer has been on the BAU’s radar for quite some time now. They take innocent women off the street in broad daylight only to return them back to their families after weeks. During those weeks, these women endure harsh psychological and physical torture. The BAU hasn’t been able to capture this man because they don’t think he’s working alone. If anything, it’s an organization that keeps him hidden from the authorities.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Spence.”

“JJ, she always answers her phone. Her biggest fear is me not picking up mine because of our job.”

“I’ll get the team together.”

Spencer immediately heads back to work and meets the team in the briefing room. They already have the victims of the Daylight Killer posted on the bulletin boards despite not having concrete evidence that you’ve been taken by him.

“What do we know?”

“I have already looked at the security cameras around your apartment, this building, and everything in between.” Penelope puts pictures of you on the screen for all to see. “She was last seen walking down Main Street when she stopped at a flower vendor on the corner of Main Street and Dobson Road. She turns the corner and continues to walk toward the BAU.” Penelope puts up three more pictures, one of you walking, another with a car parked right next to you, and the other with you gone. “This car stops next to her and she isn’t seen on any other cameras.”

“Did you get a plate?” Derek asks.

“Only a partial, but the system hasn’t come up with anything yet. You’ll be the first to know.”

“What if it is him? Do you know what he does to his victims?” Spencer asks with tears in his eyes.

“We need to speak to the survivors and see if they can remember their time with him.”

“You want to put them through that pain again?” Emily asks.

“What other choice do we have?” Rossi asks.

It’s safe to say that the victims of the Daylight Killer were less than thrilled to have to relive their experiences. Some of them are still in the hospital recovering from their injuries while others are locked away in their houses too afraid to go outside. There are only two girls who are brave enough to come forward. Confident that if they help the BAU, the men will get caught.

“If you need to stop at any time, please let us know,” JJ says gently.

“Okay,” Stacy, one of the victims, whispers.

“Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Stacy does, and she wrings her fingers together nervously. “When you were taken, do you remember what you could feel?”

“You mean besides their hands on me?”

“I can only imagine this is hard for you but don’t focus on them.” Stacy nods and tries to relax. “Focus on the car ride. Was it bumpy? Smooth?”

“Smooth but then it became bumpy like they were driving on rocks or a dirt road.”

“How long were you on that road for?”

“It seemed like hours but probably ten minutes.”

“Then what?”

“They parked and took me out of the car. I was still blindfolded.”

“What was underneath your feet? Rocks? Dirt? Concrete?”

“Sticks. Dirt.”

“So, you were in the woods. What did you smell?”

“Dirt. Nature. It was musty.”

“What did you hear?”

“Insects. However, they stopped once we started walking.”

Spencer leaves the room after hearing enough from Stacy. So, they are keeping their victims in the woods. What woods, is the question.

The best part about you is Spencer. He brings out the best in you and pushes you to do your best in everything you do, especially with your art business. He never goes a day without telling you he loves you, and he shows it with the little things he does. He leaves out little notes for you on the kitchen counter before work, he buys you cookies and other sweets before he comes home, and he gets you flowers every single week.

Even in bed, he’s super loving. Sure, he’s been rough with you a few times but your favorite is how gentle he can be. He can spend hours in bed just worshiping you before giving you his sock. He fits so well inside of you like he was made for you. Even now, you can picture him bending you over and sliding his cock into your pussy. He touches your skin as if he’s mapping every inch of your body. He rarely leaves behind any marks because it reminds him that he can hurt you. He’s seen too much in the field to leave marks on you.

You’re pulled from your dream with Spencer when one of the men slaps your ass hard. His dick feels nothing like Spencer’s. He doesn’t care if he stretches you too much or if he doesn’t fit. He’s still slamming into you from behind and chasing his release. Your entire body aches from the pain but you refuse to give him and the other men the one thing they crave.

You refuse to cry.

You slip back into your dream and replace the man raping you with Spencer who loves you.

“According to the camera’s timestamp, she’s been missing for a week. Do you know what these men do to these women? What are they doing to her right now?” Spencer panics.

“I know it’s hard but you can’t think like that. We’re doing everything we can to try and find her. Right now, we have two women who remember being in the woods which means this unsub or unsubs need privacy. They can’t risk anyone finding them so they have to be isolated. That narrows down a lot of places,” Hotch says.

“They can’t be far either because Virginia PD is always on the scene whenever they release these women. They have to have a place close enough to where they can grab someone and release another in the span of hours.”

“Garcia, anything?”

Penelope pulls up a map of the area and circles the places where it’s likely the unsubs are located. All are in densely forested areas with nothing around them for miles.

“Based on the survivors’ accounts of being in the woods and the fact that they both said they weren't in the car for long once they got onto the dirt road, I estimate that the unsubs are located in one of five places. Every single victim has been released at a gas station before walking into town where there is reception.”

“That’s too many to go to. They could see us coming and leave. How are we going to narrow down this list?”

JJ comes marching into the room with a look of determination and worry on her face.

“We got another woman missing. Melissa Summers was out jogging when she was taken. This time, there were witnesses. They witnessed a ‘dirty white van’ and ‘two men grabbing Melissa off the streets’. They saw a partial plate which matches the one who took Y/N.”

Spencer goes rigid at the news because there are two reasons why they took someone early. They normally keep their victims for two or three weeks before releasing them and grabbing someone new. You’ve been gone for just over a week. Either they changed their minds and let you go early or you’re dead.

Spencer doesn’t have to say anything for everyone to know what he’s thinking.

“Reid, don’t go there,” Derek warns.

“Too late.”

Spencer leaves the room just before he bursts into tears. He can handle being by your side while you heal from their abuse but he can’t handle the thought of you being dead.

You wish that was the case. You wish they had killed you. After a week and a half of abusing your body for their pleasure, they leave you to rot on a dirty mattress with your hands tied behind you, duct tape over your mouth, and a blindfold over your eyes. The door opens but you don’t have enough energy to react. You’ve been saving your energy for when it matters the most.

“What should we do with her?”

They must have another girl if they’re already talking about disposing of you.

“We should just kill her, boss,” another man says. “She doesn’t make it fun. She doesn’t cry or beg like the others.”

“We should just leave her here and move on. She hasn’t seen our faces. She doesn’t look like she’ll talk.”

“Enough. Both of you. I’ll decide what to do with her when I’m done with her.”

The door closes and you’re back to lying in the darkness.

“Okay, so according to her parents, Melissa goes on a run on the same route every night. It’s on Mason Trail located next to a gas station. It’s one of the ones Penelope circled,” JJ says.

“We should go check it out,” Spencer suggests. “What harm will it do? The best case is we find the men responsible. Worst case is she’s not there and we try again. We have to do something.”

“I’m with Reid on this one,” Derek says.

“If we’re wrong and she’s not there, it could ruin everything,” Rossi says.

“You’re both right,” Hotch says. “Let’s go.”

The team, as quietly as they can, make their way to the house deep in the woods located near Mason Trail. It’s not quite night but Hotch keeps the headlights off to prevent anyone from seeing the sleek black cars. Virginia PD is right behind them because, despite the concern about this not being the location, Spencer has a feeling it is.

They park several hundred yards away from the house and finish the rest of the way on foot. If this is the house and someone is home, they won’t take kindly to Derek announcing that the FBI is at their door. Instead, he kicks down the door and just barges in.

There are four men sitting around the table playing poker who all jump up from shock. They reach for their guns but the FBI is quicker. Derek, Rossi, Hotch, and Emily take down the four men while the police search the house to clear the other rooms.

“Where is she?” Spencer asks once they are all in handcuffs.

“Dead.”

“There’s a door to the basement,” one of the officers announces.

Spencer refuses to believe you’re dead. Hotch leaves the unsubs in the care of Virginia PD and follows Spencer down to the basement. Light floods the room and Spencer pauses when he sees Melissa strung up wearing nothing but her panties, and you lying on a dirty mattress in the corner.

Emily and JJ immediately go to Melissa to help her down, and she starts to cry when she realizes she is being saved.

“You’re okay now. They’re not going to hurt you anymore,” JJ soothes.

Spencer runs over to you and unties the rope that binds your wrists. The second you’re free, you find the burst of energy you’ve been saving. You swing at the person who is above you thinking it’s one of the men.

Spencer grabs your wrists and tries to stabilize you but you’re thrashing too much for him to control. Derek comes over and helps Spencer hold you down, and Spencer removes the duct tape from your mouth.

“Y/N--”

“No, let me go!” you beg.

“You got her?”

“Yeah, I got her.”

Spencer lets go of you and Derek has to use his whole body to hold you still even though you’re still trying to get away. Spencer removes your blindfold and you blink rapidly to counteract the brightness of the dim lights. For someone who has had a blindfold on the entire time you’ve been here, the dim lighting it very bright to you. You look around and lock eyes with Derek who is the one who is holding you. You notice JJ and Emily caring for Melissa, and Spencer comes into view in front of you.

Almost immediately, you begin sobbing. You’re free. You’re safe now. You’re not going to hurt anymore. Every single tear you have been holding back is now coming out and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Derek lets you go knowing you’re not going to start swinging which allows Spencer to pull you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, darling. You’re safe now. You’re okay now.”

You bury your face in Spencer’s chest and sob and wail as loud as you can. Spencer can’t stop his tears from falling, and he looks at the rest of the team. JJ and Emily are in tears, Derek is clenching his jaw tightly, Hotch has a stoic look on his face but is breaking down inside, and Rossi has to look away before he cries.

“We need a medic,” Hotch says into his mic.

By the time the ambulance arrives, your sobs have died down to quiet cries. The men are all arrested and put into separate cop cars, and you’re laid onto a stretcher. Melissa is taken to the hospital in another ambulance, and you’re put into the back of the first one.

“Spencer,” you whimper.

“I’m right here.” He climbs into the back and sits next to you. He grabs your hand and runs his thumb across the back of your hand. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“Please don’t leave me,” you cry.

“I’m not. I’m right here. You’re not alone. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

The entire ride to the hospital is you crying over your innocence being destroyed and Spencer trying not to cry.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[callofdoobie420]

neighbor!Price x reader (aka lil birdie down the street)

John isn’t exactly sure why he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. Quickly scrambling about his kitchen, stirring a sauce, checking the bread, mixing the salad.

Well he does know why he’s having an aneurysm actually…you’re coming over. You. You will be in his house.

It’s always been him at yours, but now…shit, now you will be here in fifteen minutes, and the bread is still at least twenty-five out. He’s normally so perfect at timing, but you have thrown him for a loop.

He rushes to the bathroom as his sauce simmers in a pan. Splashing some cool water on his face and smoothing out his hair.

It’s been a few months now since you’ve moved in, and John had finally worked up the courage to ask you over for dinner. He couldn’t fuck this up. No. This was just one of his steps to making you, his.

First he helped you move in. Then he built you a dresser. Now…he would feed you. The quickest way to anyone’s heart.

At least according to his mum. And about any sane person out there.

The doorbell rang, and he checked his watch. Cursing at how he let 15 minutes slip by just like that. He scooted past the oven on his way to the door, turning off the heat on the meat sauce.

He pulled his front door open with a big grin on his face, and there you were. Your typical beaming smile and flowy sundress, adorning you. He had come to love summery sundresses because of you.

“Come on in love,” he purred, as he held the door open for you. “Why thank you John,” came your coo.

His little birdie.

“I brought you a bottle of wine,” holding out a nice Malbec, as you strode into his house confidently. He supposed you should…it would be yours too.

He took the bottle, holding it away a little to read the label. Not catching the way you smiled at that, finding it endearing. “Sounds delicious love, it’ll work perfect with the pasta…”

You practically moaned with excitement when he revealed what he made. The pasta looked delicious, the bread mouth watering, and even the salad was calling your name.

“And how in the world aren’t you married yet?” You ask playfully, as you take your seat across from John. Missing his smirk as you drape your napkin over your lap.

“Well the job always made it hard to settle down…” he answers, twirling some pasta onto his fork. “Though I do believe I have a lot more time on my hands now, don’ I lass?”

His words didn’t leave much room to imagine the meaning behind them. John had struck you as blunt since the moment you met him.

A small blush crawling over your cheeks, as you dig into your own food. Taking a sip of your wine, realizing you might need some liquid courage to get through this date.

Normally, you felt confident about what you brought to the table. You're hot, have a stable high-paying job (pretty much working for yourself), still pretty young, and not to mention you were funny as all hell. Truly a dream package.

So why the hell did you feel like a schoolyard kid with a crush?!

Thankfully, John took it easy on you for the rest of dinner. Simply taking time to learn more about you, how you grew up, what your dreams and goals are for life. Pretty much anything he can learn, he wants to. He wants to know everything about you.

You're on your third glass of wine, which made it very easy for John to get answers out of you. Probably more than you would have given him had your lips not be loosened by your own doing.

Really birdie...bringing wine? Did you want this as much as he did?

Both of you, falling into the couch. Sitting practically on top of each other. Your legs tangled together, as you slightly faced each other. Still sipping your wine.

"So Johnathan..." you giggle, and John rolls his eyes playfully, "I don't know if you know this. I mean I know you're like super good at knowing things because military- duh" you hiccup, making Price chuckle.

"But you probably don't know this because I kept it secret from everyone!" You exclaim before leaning in to whisper, "you are very fucking hot."

John cant help the smile the spread over his face, "Tha' right birdie?"

"Mhmm, like DILF hot...'' waggling your eyebrows at him, as he shakes his head at you. "What do you not think I'm hot?"

Your little pout pulls at John's heartstrings. He's pretty certain that you know you're hot, but he likes knowing that you want him to think that too.

"Course I do sweetheart..." He murmurs, leaning forward. His hand coming up to cup the side of your jaw. "But I think we should have this conversation when you are sober."

"I'm not even that drunk-" You begin to protest. "I know sweetheart, but I want you to be 100% sober when I tell you how I feel."

The look he gives you has you unsure whether or not your heart stopped. Or if it just beat so fast it burst.

He looked at you like nothing else on this Earth would ever satisfy his sights again.

"Okay..." you breathed out, a small hand moving over his, still placed on your face. "Yeah...good idea...I'll tell you tomorrow..."

"Looking forward to it love..." he smiles, pressing his forehead to yours. Smiling as you sigh and lean into him.

Just one more step checked off to make you his.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Taglist (as always you can ask to be removed! As this is mostly fluffy for now I will tag all. But if this ever hits MDNI territory I will NOT tag if you do not have age in bio): @ilove-otters @ohdrey89 @cdgurlcathy @thbidkbutok

[quartztwst]

Azul Ashengrotto (MagiKey AU)

Azul Ashengrotto [MagiKey User "Deep Blue"]

"Oh, I am the kindest and most benevolent MagiKey user of them all! Although, I do have.. my moments."

Azul is currently 17 years old. He's only been a MagiKey user for a year but he managed to climb up to be one of most popular MagiKey users and one of the strongest. Although, he has strayed far from his path. He does his MagiKey duties but on the side, he participates in suspicious schemes, earning himself a title of a villain. He promises you that he is a man of honesty and generosity while casually doing villainous actions. He usually hides his "side work" and manages to convince most people that he is totally not doing suspicious things.

After being saved from his corruption, he ends up pausing his "side work" but he does eventually continue it, not learning his lesson.

Status:

Mental/Emotional Strength: ★★★☆☆ (Easily disturbed or shocked but he has a strong head when focused)

Physical Strength: ★★★★★ (Really strong due to octo-strength)

Stamina: ★☆☆☆☆ (He's too slow and really bad at running.)

Strategy: ★★★★★ (He's clever and can easily find loopholes)

Strengths: He's VERY observant and sneaky. He most likely knows very special information on you that you don't want anyone to know. It's also easy for strategy planning because he can predict your movements just by some observations. He's also a smooth talker.

Weaknesses: He genuinely cannot run fast for shit. Horrible at chasing people. If an opponent gets away, he says "Jade, Floyd, go get them!" (Their designs are coming soon)

Abilities:

Ability 1: Octo.. Cannon?

"FIRE!"

Azul's coat sleeves are cannons, yes. The cannonballs are octopuses, yes. Is he judging? YES.

He usually wears the coat over his shoulders because his sleeves are his weapons and they're HUGE. They move on their own when Azul needs them. He can also move both as once. Reloading is quick because of his own training and it is REALLY POWERFUL. One shot at that thing and you're FLYING.

If Azul is unable to focus and aim, nothing will come out of his sleeves.

Ability 2: Ink Tentacles GROSSSS YUCK!!

"Oh, please don't go. We have so much to discuss."

Azul can summon ink through cracks on the ground, buildings, anything and they will form into tentacles. They can restrain and attack people. They can be different sizes but the maximum size is like Floyd's height. They can also be attacked back too.

Final Ability: Golden Contract

"It's a Deal!"

When Azul activates this ability, you will see a golden contract appear in front of you and you'll be forced to be mesmerized by it. This will lure you closer to it, making you grab the contract in curiosity before you realize you pressed your fingerprint on the contract. You suddenly have an anemone on your head, forcing you to follow Azul's orders.

It's really hard to look away or escape this event and it usually works but it takes a lot of Azul's energy and magic. Using it too much can end up with him fainting or becoming corrupted.

Corrupted Form

(Quartz is there for size)

When Azul turns corrupted, his body becomes covered in this thick ink before tranforming into a large octopus. The purple glowing area is his weak spot and where you will strike if you’re trying to defeat him (aka KILL HIM).

Uhhh he can basically grab you with his tentacles. They come from the ground and he can summon multiple.

He can do a loud ass screech which will produce strong soundwaves to push you back

Since he drips a lot of ink, there are a lot of puddles of ink but they’re actually really deep like the ocean so if you fall in, you’ll fucking die or smth.

[ambie720]

Ok. I like never ever post things on my blog that aren’t reblogs or gif sets, but I am kind of beside myself right now.

911 people…. Can we please explain to me why Eddie Diaz just seems to be getting more and more abusive over time? I started watching this show about a year ago- binged watched through it, and I’ve loved every second of it. I started out really loving the Buck and Eddie dynamic. Gobbled up the fanfiction, got swept away in the giddiness of a new ship. They seemed like a match made in heaven.

With every single episode I just keep noticing how much Buck gives VS what little he gets back. His friendship with Eddie has always felt very skewed into the latter’s favor. And yeah, everyone can have different ways of showing friendship and love… but This is the 3rd maybe 4th time Eddie has voiced that Buck makes everything about himself. And each time it’s a pointed attack to make Buck feel like shit. Buck opens up? It’s all about himself. Buck internalizes it? God, he’s being selfish. A conversation that starts out about Eddie telling EVERYONE BUT BUCK about going back to Texas, and acting like Buck is too fragile to have a conversation about his supposed best friend’s plans turns into blaming Buck for being sad about Bobby. Like he’s acting like he’s the only one sad and in pain? And then Eddie… makes it about himself? That his pain is somehow worse because he wasn’t physically there. That Chris’ loss of was more important than Buck’s loss? I know that Bobby had a close relationship with everyone in the 118. All of those relationships were different but all meaningful. Everyone grieves differently. But being a parent and not being present when Bobby died does NOT mean that Eddie has the right to toss it in Buck’s face that he’s grieving or that somehow Eddie’s pain takes precedence over Buck’s. The guy hasn’t even done anything to make it about himself. It just seems like an easy way to take the focus off Eddie not keeping Buck in the loop about his life. Which, ok fair, it’s not like Buck is entitled to know, but as his best friend, shouldn’t Eddie realize how that looks and how Buck would take it? And then to get physical about it? And disappear with a note that he’s going to the airport? Eddie isn’t stupid, he knew how that looked. And it’s almost like he was tying to dig the knife in deeper. And bringing Chris and Peppa there to try and smooth things over without an actual apology? Again?

I just am at a loss. Time and time again I just see Buck busting his ass to help Eddie and Chris. Bending over backwards to fix the shit that Eddie messes up… and it’s Buck who is the screw up? He didn’t get Eddie childcare, or talk to Chris about girls and dating, or comfort him about Ana and people leaving, or about A FREAKING DOPPLEGANGER of his mom? Try to convince him to stay? He didn’t rush over to help Eddie when his ptsd hit or help him patch up his walls, or cook dinner for his family for the umpteenth time? Of help Eddie with his move to Texas? Even if he unintentionally sabotaged, he still fixed things. He apologized.

I’m not going to hide the fact that Buck is my favorite character overall. You hurt my boy, I’m gonna get pissed. I know that Buck has flaws. I know he’s got abandonment issues and he can tend to get in his head and make things catastrophically worse. But I really, GENUINELY, have never seen him be a selfish person who makes things all about himself. He has feelings. He feels things deeply. He loves deeply. And this show- I swear to god… even with events that are actually ABOUT Buck and Buck alone- he gets called selfish.

Just- as a relatively new watcher, I’m having a hard time seeing what Eddie has done for Buck. How he’s shown up for him. All his transgressions are swept away. And he never apologizes that I’ve seen. Please can y’all just help me out here? Why are we shipping these guys together when it’s proven time and time again how one sided the effort and care is?

This is just me airing out my personal feelings, so if you’re gonna attack my opinion, please scroll past. I’m not in the fandom, I’m just an observer feeling more and more unsettled.

[pressureplus]

Sebastian Solace Injury Headcannons

Warnings: Mentions of blood, anxiety, and Injury, but nothing too particularly graphic, You show up at his shop hurt and he takes care of you

(The way he cares for your injuries slightly varies depending on your relationship)

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

Platonic

• Immediately starts to chastise you the second he can smell the blood on you

• He doesn't have a nose, so how he scrunches it up is beyond you

• Your med kit isn't free, so you definitely owe him and yes, he will remember you owe him

• You can't refuse tho, he's already patching you up before you can really do anything about it

• What are you gonna do, fight him? Fight a thing more than 5 times your size with claws like steel knives? I don't think so.

• He's pretty good at patching wounds, and stays relaxed the whole time he's doing it

• The motions are practiced and easy as he cleans and gauzes and wraps you up

• "Because I pity you, I'll even let you lay on the cot in the corner of my shop, hmm?"

• Understands you are useless and stupid and small, so he guesses he can help you out and demand whatever extra data you have I'm your pockets about a week from now

• He isn't exactly the most concerned with your well-being, but does go out of his way to help you and take care of you sooo...

• You must mean something to him right?

If you're not together but he likes you

• Actually gets a little worried

• He flusters easily, the crush he has for you making it a little bit more difficult for him to think clearly

• That crush making his harsh reactions harsher and his soft ones hard to verbalize

• He grabs you

• I don't have any other way to put this, he literally just reaches out and grabs you before he really thinks about it

• You don't get an explanation, you don't get scolding, he just huffs and gets pissy while he's patching you

• "I thought you were better than this- You REALLY ended up this hurt over something so easy to get away from?"

• Yes, he knows the foul mouth he's got is tanking his chances of ever actually being with you, but he already figures you're never going to want to kiss a fish so why should he care?

• Even if rejection is imminent and unavoidable, and even if he feels the constant need to be mean to you so he can protect himself, he'll still take care of you

• He does like you for a reason- a lot of reasons. And he thinks about those reasons quite a bit... Of course he wants you to be okay

• You're his favorite person, and he would rather die than admit that but also would 100% prioritize your medical care over working his shop

• Him being so fast to grab and tend to your wounds is probably one of the only things you've ever seen from him that's made you sure he doesn't hate you

• Look, there's no way this man would be smoothing his thumb over your newly applied bandages and looking upset at the notion you'd be hurt without you being SOME kind of important

• It doesn't matter how stupid you are, dummy or not, this shit is painfully obvious when he's getting vulnerable over the idea of you getting a nasty enough scar

• Will not let you leave the cot in the room until you're all better, so get ready to be defensively degraded by your favourite shopkeeper for several consecutive days!

If you are together

• Open. Meltdown.

• Panicking, throwing the door on his little store closed and coddling you like you'll fall apart if he's not treating you with the utmost care

• Even scraped knees and bumped elbows get treated like they need full medical, so you can imagine the sort of reactions you're getting to actually bleeding

• Part of him immediately blames himself while he's frantically tending to your injuries, thinking he should have watched you better today, thinking that he should have protected you right

• The next part of him promises he'll be getting whoever or whatever did this to you back for it just as soon as you're all mended and comforted

• He's a mess, a muttering, coddling mess

• You get little kisses to the bandages, as well as some quiet murmurs that attempt to get onto you for not being careful

• The grip you've got around this man's heart is too much for him to be angry, nor pretend to

• You may nearly make him cry if it's bad enough, and his hands may shake at the sight of you so hurt

• Will threaten you if you even THINK about dying, remember he can do worse to you and will if you don't shut up, he can't cope with thinking about losing you shut up shut up shut up-

• Until you're healed, you aren't leaving his bed. He puts you in HIS bed and cuddles up to you any chance that he gets

• You're going to get teased when you're all better and his brain registers it's not a big deal, but until then this is your big, protective fishy husband whether you two have gotten married officially or not

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION IV.

(a/n: Hey everybody! Really sorry for not updating this week's been VERY hectic, but im back and ready to post new eps again 🙏 thanxx for your support ❤️)

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.1 k words

ALSO: tags-@ttheggrimrreaper ❤️ bear with me, ur episode is coming i swear

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…11, Isagi Yoichi."

The icon of an unknown person appeared on the screens. Looking closely, you tried to recall if you had ever heard of him during your training, before realising you didn’t interact with the male species for months so you definitely can’t remember the boy.

‘Maybe someone mentioned him a few weeks ago?’

Heading to the assigned room and getting there, Anri immediately gave you a bunch of stuff while telling you about some of Ego’s newly adapted annoying habits. Minutes later, she finished her complaining and let you go you to find your new player.

Imagine being the manager of Isagi Yoichi, the heart of Blue Lock.

——————

Isagi Yoichi, with whom you immediately click moments after you first meet him, the conversations going surprisingly smooth. His attentive and kind nature made you much more talkative than usual, feeling lucky that you somehow managed to get a normal boy. The nightmares that tortured you for the past week, anxious about who you were gonna end up with were also nowhere to be found. Between the breaks of practice matches, Yoichi would always come to the benches, eager to continue your little chat from earlier, seemingly taking genuine interest in you. And when he had to go back to the field, you simply watched him in silence while quickly reading through his data sheet.

——————

•Isagi, who you notice that literally every day, during all the matches tends to think and analyze a lot, which surprised you a bit, didn’t expecting to get someone who actually thinks before he acts.

•In the first few days he would mostly keep his thoughts to himself and although he does share some of them regarding soccer with you, he still remains a mystery.

•Isagi, who has been really curious about you from the start, and because of that you two talked a lot. From telling him how you ended up in Blue Lock, to him being silly and secretly imitating some of his teammates for fun. He also shared his own goals and how he hoped to be a good player, so you wouldn’t have to deal with all his shit in the future.

•He's also the one who's been holding whichever team he’s been part of together since the beginning and has slowly but surely earned a reputation within the facility. That wasn’t the problem, but rather the fact that your player was known for his harsh words and slurs towards his opponents and for being a completely different person on the pitch instead of the usual respectful guy, making you worry a little.

•The cherry on top however is that he somehow always manages to piss off the biggest, most skilled, clearly not in the mood to be insulted type of players.

•Dealing with this is probably the hardest part of being his manager. Apart from that, you have a pretty normal, simple routine, compared to the others, because well…you don't have to do much other than the standard work schedule, since Isagi is just easy to deal with. He doesn’t break the rules, eats what he’s given and always gets up on time.

•This is usually how your days go until the unexpected U20 match announcement comes, which makes the boy much, much more motivated making you basically fight to be able to keep up with him. Your tasks suddenly also multiply, having to give more detailed reports to the boss, monitoring Yoichi’s food portions and supliments way too carefully all while trying to help him achieve the perfect built for the upcoming match, hoping he gets selected.

•Your secret stash of snacks that you keep hidden in your room specially for him is also prohibited to touch, knowing damn well if Ego or Anri notices the few more calories on his data list both of you will be punished.

“So no more sneaky sweets?”-he asked one night, to which you just nodded regretfully.

“Nooooooooo…”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Isagi changes. A lot. You would say he has improved and currently still is at a frighteningly fast pace. From the very first match he plays with his ‘new’ team to way he thinks and acts is different. This probably earned him one of the best players title as of now.

•He recently also began to follow a stricter training plan, and although the few chocolate bars you secretly try to give him are reeeeaally tempting, he always rejects them, saying that when he feels like he deserves one, he will accept it, resulting in you having to eat all of them alone before they expire.

•Changing places, didn’t necessarily mean new teammates. Yet, the people in Blue Lock he was the closest with all chose different countries, only some of them going on the same path as Yoichi.

•Fortunately, he had no problem finding new and old friends to hang out with, so you thought at least you didn’t have to worry about that. Wrong. You should have.

•Because although Isagi may have gotten along with the Japanese players, the Germans were different. First you thought, maybe it was because of his duality while playing, but it seemed like his mere existence was a problem for specifically 2 German people. They were extremely bothered by him, the murderous look in their eye every time, made you try to keep your player away from them as much as possible.

•Isagi changing meant your nightly routine had to be adjusted as well. Instead of an hour, you now sat with him in front of the big monitors for 2, carefully analyzing his movements every second, papers full of notes and comments to discuss later.

•He also gained immense popularity all over the world with his goal against the U20 that day, receiving comments and praises from fans on a daily basis with them saying how humble and good he is. Yet, despite all this, for some reason he’s need to get a compliment or praise only from you, rises drastically.

•“I’m with you all day, you know me best. I’m just simply curious about your opinion!”

•He, with whom you focus quite a bit on learning the basics of the German language, yet somehow the pronunciation, even the rules have no place in the boy’s puzzle anymore. Still, he tries hard because talking to Bastard München fans and mocking Michael Kaiser in his own native language seems so tempting.

•Over time, you guys became much closer to each other, and even though he has thought about asking you out on a date, he still doesn’t do it because he’s afraid that if things don’t go well, you’ll quit and he simply wouldn’t risk it. You’re the best manager and if necessary, he will continue to try and see you as a friend, as long as you’ll be by his side until the end of his journey.

[brainddeadd]

luke bringing his gf home to meet his brothers and they obviously have heard a lot about her from luke but luke is just so soft and in love with her and it’s really cute

Meeting the Brothers

You nervously smooth down your shirt for what feels like the hundredth time, sitting beside Luke in the car. His hand, warm and reassuring, rests on your thigh as he drives. The hum of the engine does little to calm your nerves—meeting his brothers feels like a big deal.

“Babe, relax,” Luke says, glancing at you with that soft smile that always makes your heart flutter. “They’re going to love you.”

“I hope so,” you mutter. “They’re, like… them.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, but they’re just my brothers. They’ve been bugging me to bring you around for months, so this’ll make their day.”

You chew your lip, letting his words sink in. You know how close Luke is with his brothers, Jack and Quinn, and that makes the meeting all the more nerve-wracking. What if you say something dumb? What if they think you’re not good enough for their baby brother?

Luke senses your tension and squeezes your thigh gently. “Y/N, seriously. It’s just Jack and Quinn. They’ve heard all about you, and I promise, they already like you. I wouldn’t bring you if I wasn’t sure.”

You smile at him, feeling the tiniest bit better. Luke doesn’t usually gush, but you know how much he cares—his actions speak louder than words. And the fact that he wants you to meet the two most important people in his life means everything.

When you finally pull up to the Hughes’ summer lake house, the front door swings open before you even step out of the car. Jack comes barreling down the steps with a grin that’s a little too excited.

“There’s the famous Y/N!” he shouts, as if he’s been waiting all day for this moment. You barely have time to react before he’s pulling you into a quick but friendly hug. “God, Luke doesn’t shut up about you. Thought you were a myth.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jack,” you say with a laugh, instantly warming to him.

Quinn is right behind, more relaxed and less chaotic, but his smile is kind. “Hey, Y/N. Welcome.” He gives you a small hug too, his calm demeanor instantly balancing out Jack’s energy.

As you pull away, Jack throws an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Dude, you didn’t tell me she was this cute,” he teases, grinning like the annoying little shit he is.

Luke rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, tugging you a little closer to him. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d let her speak for herself.”

You glance up at him, and the look on Luke’s face—soft and completely in awe—makes your heart flip. His gaze is so full of quiet love and pride, as if just standing beside you makes him the happiest person in the world.

Jack catches the look too, and his eyes widen dramatically. “Oh my God, look at you,” he says, nudging Quinn. “He’s in love.”

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, we know, Jack.”

Luke groans, cheeks flushing slightly, but he doesn’t let go of you. In fact, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you even closer. “Can you two not?” he mutters, though he’s smiling in that soft, sheepish way that makes you melt.

Jack just laughs. “Man, you’re whipped.”

“And proud of it,” Luke shoots back without missing a beat, making both you and Quinn laugh.

Despite Jack’s endless teasing, the rest of the afternoon is surprisingly easy. They ask you a million questions, but nothing too intense—just brotherly curiosity. You quickly realize that Jack’s hyper energy and Quinn’s laid-back vibe are the perfect mix, and they make you feel welcome without even trying.

Luke stays close the entire time, his hand finding yours every chance he gets—whether you’re sitting on the couch or helping in the kitchen. The little touches are constant: fingers brushing against yours, his arm slung over your shoulder, a quick kiss to the side of your head when he thinks no one’s looking.

And every time Jack catches Luke looking at you with that lovesick expression, he makes sure to point it out. “Dude, you’re literally glowing. It’s embarrassing.”

Luke just shrugs, completely unbothered. “Can’t help it.”

By the time the evening rolls around, you’re curled up with Luke on the couch, your legs draped over his lap while Jack and Quinn argue over what movie to watch. Luke’s fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your knee, his other arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You tilt your head to look up at him, and he gives you the sweetest, most content smile.

“You doing okay?” he asks softly, his lips brushing your temple.

You nod, your heart full. “Yeah. I am.”

Luke leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Told you they’d love you.”

And in that moment, you know without a doubt that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

[milunalupin]

— all-american

james potter x reader ★ 869 words

"Can you two stop giggling? People are staring."

The boys followed the tallest Marauder through the streets of muggle London, on their way to some American diner Peter had told them about. The purebloods couldn't help but 'ooh' and 'ahh' at all the unusual things they didn't have back in their world. A large neon sign came into view, the 'C' in 'Nick's Diner' flickering on and off. The loud jingle of the bell as they opened the door announced their arrival, only a few other patrons scattered around the diner. A voice from somewhere back in the kitchen called out.

"Welcome in, take a seat anywhere you'd like!"

They decided on a red leather booth near the back corner, a 'Taxi Driver' poster plastered right above the table. The black and white checkerboard flooring and jukebox made it feel like they were in that film 'Grease' their friend Lily makes them watch every other week.

"Evening boys, how's everyone doin'? My name is Y/N, can I get anyone started with a drink?"

James thinks he must've gotten hit by a muggle car crossing the street to get here because he believes he's seeing an angel in person. You just look so pretty, in your little red dress and white apron, curly hair tied up in a ponytail. Your smile. Merlin, he was going to need to get his eyes checked again after dinner because your smile was truly blinding. Were those wedding bells he was hearing?

"I think James over here is good, all that drool should last him a good week or two."

A hard slap on the back took him out of his daze. His eyebrows pinched together and he was about to say something back to Sirius when he realized he was drooling, quickly wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater before turning back to you with red cheeks and a sheepish smile.

"A Coca-Cola for me, please."

You think the blushing boy before you couldn't get any cuter. You grinned and nodded, telling them you'd be back with their drinks as you strolled back to the kitchen.

Once James finally took his eyes away from your swinging ponytail, he was met with three shit-eating grins. He glares back but their smiles do not falter, causing James to scoff with furrowed eyebrows. "What."

Dinner goes by in a flash with the friends enjoying their meals and sneakily changing the music from the jukebox, wands hidden under the table. The boys notice they just so happen to have a very attentive waitress, your lovely self coming around to their table often. It was interesting that even after they'd finished eating, you would appear to fill their almost overflowing cups with water or drop off extra napkins. James did nothing but send a dopey grin your way, and he does consider talking to you but freezes the second your big brown eyes stare back at him.

Remus groaned as he watched his friend be so pathetically consumed by you, setting down his now empty mug. "Prongs, tell me. Are you going to ask her out or just sit there with your tongue out like Padfoot begging for someone to throw him a bone?"

"I do not beg!" The dog animagi sputtered, hitting the dirty blonde beside him, "Tell 'em Pete!"

"Piss off Moony, it's not that easy. She's perfect."

Your shift was over, and truthfully it could've been worse. The table of four boys really made up for the more sour customers you had earlier in the day. The disappointment on your face was obvious when you had gone to clean their table and there was no number left behind on any of the napkins.

After finishing your closing duties you walked out the back door and turned the corner to find a large eagle owl perched upon the diner's bike rack. It wasn't too common to see owls in this area, but the shine of its feathers and well maintained claws tell you it's not from around here. Taking careful steps towards the bird, you offer your hand. It expanded its wings and flapped them twice at you before butting its head against the palm of you hand. You smiled and smoothed the beautiful creature's feathers back, now realizing there was an envelope sitting between the owl's talons. Taking the envelope and opening it up, you find a letter written to who you presumed to be yourself.

Dearest Y/N,

You have me infatuated with your beautiful smile and killer table waiting skills. I'm pretty funny and can show you a good time. Not like that though, unless you wanted t

What I mean to say is, I would throw all of England's tea in the ocean again if it meant I could win the honor of taking you out. On a date that is, not like killing you. I promise to make the night magical. I'll come by the diner next week with flowers and hopefully you don't punch me in the face for being a creep.

Yours,

James Potter

Smiling to yourself, you gave the owl one last pet and a thank you before pulling your wand out and disapparating home.

[menaathena]

I think a lot of Ford haters would also be Stan haters if we had a book full of his most private and vulnerable thoughts too.

You telling me that if Stan kept a journal he wouldn't have a moment where he thought about his brother for too long, got angry, and wrote some shit about how Ford is just some stuck up academic living easy off his grant money and doesn't care about his family? That after reuniting with Ford after 30 years, he wouldn't furiously write passages about his ungrateful brother gallivanting around the universe having fun adventures, growing out his sideburns, and not showering while he was working tirelessly to bring him home? That at the beginning of summer, before he really got to know his niece and nephew, he wouldn't make some snap judgements about Dipper being kind of a wuss, and express frustration at having to keep these snot nosed kids busy so they don't go snooping around and ruin everything? "Stan wouldn't do that! He loves those kids-" Yeah, he does, but he's also curmudgeonly and closed off and wouldn't know them yet. He'd be have first impressions (like everyone does) and write down those PRIVATE thoughts and frustrations in a PRIVATE journal.

"I just don't like Ford because he's an asshole-" SO IS STAN. STAN IS A MASSIVE ASSHOLE. Most of the time his assholery gets played off for laughs, and he either gets his comeuppance or learns a lesson by the end of the episode. Plus we have the whole series to get to know his better qualities and be endeared to him. Ford has much fewer episodes to work with, he's beefing with a character we already like, he only gets to learn his lesson at the end of the series, and we have a book full of his private thoughts that he doesn't say to anyone's face.

Ford is at a huge disadvantage here. I've noticed a trend in the fandom of Ford's flaws being amplified and exaggerated while Stan's get smoothed over. Neither of them are nice people. They've both done some fucked up shit. If you can look past that in Stan to see his good qualities and how far he's willing to go for the people he cares about, you should be able to do that for Ford too.

[lailols]

Txt when you share a New Year’s kiss

If you see any mistakes, no you didn’t. Also Happy New Year! <33

Soobin

You look over at Soobin when there are five minutes left til midnight and find his eyes already on you. He smiles softly, nodding his head to the door. You both get up and head out together. You thought it would be a smooth operation until you heard a yell behind you.

“Look, guys! Mom and Dad are off to make out while their kids are distracted.” It’s Beomgyu, of course, it’s Beomgyu. You have to pull Soobin out of the room before he turns around to wrestle him because tradition is tradition damnit, and you’re already late.

As soon as the door closes, Soobin releases a heavy sigh and runs a hand down his face.

“Don’t mind him, Bin.” You place a hand on his arm. “I mean, it’s not like he’s wrong.”

“We’re not making out.” He emphasizes and his next words make your heart ache despite their truth. “It’s been the same every year since we were 15 and it’s never been like that.”

For the last nine years, you and Soobin have shared a New Year’s kiss. It started out when you were teenagers at a party, and everyone had a person to kiss except you two (not that you wanted to kiss anyone else, even then). It was an easy decision then, and it has remained the same until now.

“We all know that. He just likes to tease you.” You say with a strained smile. “I don’t know why you get so upset over it.”

“I get upset because it makes you uncomfortable when they say shit like that.” Your brows pinch together in confusion.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ve known you for nearly our entire lives. It makes you uncomfortable, I know it does.” He scoffs. “You always laugh it off and joke along but after you clench your jaw and get quiet. Every time.”

“Well, maybe it makes me uncomfortable.” You look away from him. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What else am I meant to think? I've never seen you get as uncomfortable as you do when they bring it up.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with being uncomfortable with it, y/n. It’s okay, really.”

And just as Soobin knows you, you know him. You see the way his eyes glaze over as if he’s about to cry. You see the line of his shoulders go tight. You see the way his dimples pop out from the tense set of his lips.

“Soobin…”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m fine with the way things are now. I would never pressure you into anything but it hurts." He opens his mouth again to continue before shaking his head and falling silent.

“I am uncomfortable when they bring it up.” You hesitate a bit at the way he deflates with your words. “But only because I know you don’t want me in that way. When they say it, it makes me imagine a world where you’re mine and I’m yours and it makes me sad.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” You then hear the sound of fireworks going off and you shake your head. “We missed it. Our tradition..”

“I’m okay with that.” He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. “I don’t need the excuse of New Year to kiss you anymore.”

“I really liked it though.” You pout up at him dramatically.

"Are you really going to complain when I can kiss you like this instead?" He marks his words by pressing your lips together gently once before pulling back to tilt your head and then diving in again. His hands cradle the sides of your face and he bites down on your bottom lip making you gasp. He takes advantage of the gap by sliding his tongue inside your mouth and mapping out the newfound space. He meets your moan with a sigh of his own and just as his hands start moving lower you’re interrupted by a shout.

"They really are making out!" Your heads snap to see Beomgyu peeking out the door. You don't even bother to hold Soobin back from grabbing Beomgyu by the hair and pulling him into a headlock.

Yeonjun

You’re having the time of your life on the dance floor. If the middle of a frat house counts as one. It may be a bit too hot and sweaty for your usual tastes, but the two drinks you had gave you a wonderful buzz that makes the night enjoyable. You’ll probably need more soon though…

You danced with Yeonjun until he was surrounded by a group of people each vying for a chance to be his New Year’s kiss. You went through this same song and dance the past few years. Yeonjun drags you to this same house on New Year’s Eve, you drink and dance together, he gets swarmed by admirers, he picks one to welcome the new year, and then you go home together.

You wonder which type he’ll pick this year. The shy type that only approached him with some liquid courage. The bold type that made eye contact with him the minute he walked in. Or some secret third type that is lying in wait. You briefly wonder if this will be the year your heart stops breaking when he inevitably picks someone who isn’t you.

You hadn’t always been one of his many admirers. You kind of hated him out of principle before you got to know him. Until you found out that he wasn’t some pompous asshole, but just a guy that carries himself with a confidence that is well deserved. That he was such a mother hen to your friend group. That he was just as scared of the ‘real world’ as the rest of you. That he was moved by the smallest things. That, yes, he was as cool as everyone insisted. That-

Your musings are cut off by a tap on your shoulder. You turn to find Yeonjun? It’s a surprise that is unexpected but not unwelcome.

“Hey, Junie. What’s up? Did you find someone already?” You smile at him despite the way your heart breaks.

“Not exactly. Can you come here for a second?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

“Sure?” You doubt your words matter much since you’re following him anyway. You allow him to pull you through the doors and out to the backyard before planting your feet and pulling him back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to get out of there.” His words set off more alarms in your head rather than easing you.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, I just… wanted to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your heart warms at his words and though you try to suppress a smile, you can feel your lips curling up. “Well, I’m here, what’s up?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“No.” Your words are immediate and they shock Yeonjun almost as much as they shock you.

“Oh.” Yeonjun fumbles for a bit, which is out of character for him but his words are also out of character so what do you know? “That’s fine, of course, but um, why not?”

“I- um” You’re also fumbling but this is very in character for you, so you pay it no mind. “I’d like for it to mean something? I think. Not that there’s anything wrong with it but, um, yeah. I can't do casual.”

“It doesn’t have to be casual.”

“What? You can’t just say that to get me to kiss you.”

“You really think that low of me? That I’d do something like that?”

“Well, no. But it makes more sense than..” you wanting me goes unsaid but from his reaction, you’re sure he got it.

“Of course, I want to be with you. I was just overthinking it.”

“Why do it now?”

He sports a bashful smile when he answers. “I think an anniversary on the New Year would be cute, y’know? New Year, New Us, and all that. Imagine the posts we could make.”

“That’s so you. I almost hate it.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah yeah, so are you gonna kiss me or not?” His hands find your waist and pull you closer.

“I guess I can spare a kiss or two.” Your eyes flutter closed when your lips meet. The kiss starts light with smiles and giggles exchanged more than actual kisses. It's odd because Yeonjun, from what you've heard, wastes no time in getting to the point. Right now he’s just savoring the moment, letting himself smile and laugh with you as if you have all the time in the world (you do, you’d give him everything if you could).

Beomgyu

“I wish we could be frozen in this moment together forever.”

“Why?”

“So nothing would change.” At your words, Beomgyu flips onto his side, facing you.

“What if things changed for the better?” You turn to meet his eyes and see a world of emotions in them. “Change doesn’t have to be scary.”

“Change is always scary.” You bring a hand up to trace the squares of the blanket to distract yourself. “There’s so much uncertainty in change. But if we stay here like this, we don’t have to be afraid.”

"I'm not afraid because I know we'll always have each other." He grabs your hand before he speaks again, drawing your eyes up to his. He then goes on to say something you’ve heard before. "Things will change, we can't stop that, but we will always be together."

“You don’t know that.” You remember this from your talk too. The way his every word was met by a denial from you. Not because you don’t want him, but because you’re scared. You can’t lose him. Why can’t he see that?

“I do.” He says it with such passion that it makes you want to believe him. Oh, how you want to.

“How do you know that? How are you so sure?” You sit up so he doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather have you like this and know that nothing will change than risk it.”

“Why are you giving up on this- on us before we even try?” He sits up too. “Y/n, I wouldn’t pressure you if I didn’t know you felt the same. I still feel shitty doing it now but- I just- I want to be with you. I love being friends but I just know we’d work well as more. And I know you feel the same.”

“What if we break up? What if we end up hating each other? We’re good now- great even. Are you really willing to risk it? Just to call me yours?”

“I am. I can’t tell you that we’d never break up, but I can tell you that I would never just let you go. I love you, y/n. Even if we broke up, I’d still want to be in your life. And I know you feel the same.”

“I’m just scared, Gyu.”

“I know, but why don’t we just try? If it works then great and if it doesn’t then it would make a great speech at our weddings.” His words pull a laugh out of you.

“Right. ‘So glad to see you marrying the love of my life! Don’t worry, we tried it out and it didn’t work so you don’t have to worry about me!’” You let out some more giggles until you realize Beomgyu isn’t laughing along with you. He’s just staring at you with wide eyes. “What’s wrong, Beomie?”

“You love me?”

“Of course, I love you. I’ve told you this before.”

“Yeah, but never like that.”

“You said you knew how I felt.”

“I do. But it’s different to hear it, y’know?” He smiles a bit. “It makes it feel real.”

“It is real, Gyu. It’s always been real. I think that’s why it’s so scary for me.”

“Well, I think you just need a big strong man to chase away those fears.”

You scrunch your nose. “When you find one can you point him in my direction?”

He lets out an offended squawk at your words but you quickly dissolve into giggles leaning on each other. It’s at this moment that you realize that while, yes, this is scary- terrifying even- maybe it won’t be so bad if it’s Beomgyu you’re going through it with. Maybe things will work out. And if they don’t you’ll just say ‘I told you so’ with tears in your eyes and a broken heart in your hands.

You look up at him from your place on his shoulder drawing his attention down. He looks at you like you’re everything, he always has. He was never good at hiding his feelings. You're surprised he waited all this time to tell you. You look down at his lips before making eye contact, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He leans in slightly before pausing and tilting his head as if asking ‘Are you sure?’. You nod slightly and that’s that.

Your lips meet in a kiss and immediately after you can hear the sound of fireworks going off. You think it’s all in your head until you remember what day it was and why you both came out here and you can't help but laugh into his lips.

“What’s so funny? Am I that bad of a kisser?” Beomgyu pouts and uses his hold on your face to bring you closer.

“We kissed for the first time and fireworks went off. That’s so cheesy.”

“I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think it’s beautiful.” It never fails to amaze you how quickly Beomgyu can switch from joking to serious in a matter of seconds. How he can go from laughs and twinkling eyes to serene and serious. You think he’s beautiful and your brain-to-mouth filter stops working for a moment.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He pauses for a bit before putting on a cocky face and shrugging but you know him. You see the way his eyes seem to glaze over and how his hand shakes slightly as he glides it over your face before tilting your head slightly. It hits you then that maybe this change is scary for him too.

Maybe it always has been. It was probably hard to bear your heart out to someone and be met with rejection and still show up as if nothing changed. You probably wouldn’t have done it. But Beomgyu has always been braver than you. You call him reckless, but you know how strong he is. How he never lets others dull his shine or make him pull back his love. You want to do right by him. You only hope he sees the same in your eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you again.” He cuts off your response (which was a rather embarrassing ‘please’) by pressing your lips together softly at first before deepening the kiss. Fireworks continue to sound off around you but this time you can't tell if they're real or all in your head.

Taehyun

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this.” Taehyun says looking at your phone screen displaying the countdown to midnight.

You’re both crammed under your desk with a bag of grapes waiting for the right time to begin eating them.

“I’m telling you, Tae, it really works!” You bump his shoulder with your own. “I did this last year and had the best year of my life!”

“One, you did it wrong, and two you’ve told me multiple times how this year was horrible.” He corrects with a teasing smile.

“I didn’t know there was meant to be a specific number!” You pout dramatically. “I just saw a video of a girl saying she did it and had a great year.”

“So you ate an entire bag of grapes under your desk to bring good luck?”

“And it worked!”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because I met you.” You say easily. “You even had purple hair when we met and I ate purple grapes!”

“So meeting me somehow negates that one class you cried over every homework assignment for?”

“Well, no.” You share a laugh at that. “But I genuinely do think that someone or something led me to you. I know I’ve said it a lot and you brush me off because you’re too cool to admit it but you’ve really made my year- hell, my entire life so much better since you’ve come into it.”

Taehyun’s big eyes search your face for a moment. Tracing over the lines of your serene smile and the glow in your eyes before taking a breath. “I feel the same. And while I don’t think it happened because you ate an entire bag of grapes last year, I do think we were meant to find each other when we did.”

“Not earlier?”

“God, no.”

“And why not?”

“I was a different person back then. Not unlike I am now, but I saw the world and the people in it in a different way.” He sighs looking down, seemingly collecting himself before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t know if I would’ve let you in before we met. If I would’ve opened my heart to you in the ways I have now.”

“Opened your heart?” You urge.

“Yeah. I may not be nearly as dramatic as you about it-“ he glosses over your offended ‘hey!’. “But you’ve made my year and my life so much better, too. I may not think the universe brought us together but I’m glad we met. I’m glad I get to have you like this and maybe…” He opens his mouth again before closing it. You know what he wanted to say. You’ve always known that Taehyun would be so much more to you than just a friend.

“And maybe we can be more than that.” His eyes widen a bit before closing in a smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” He catches himself. “But not right now.”

Your jaw drops and you see the way his grin widens. “Why not?”

“Our anniversary is not going to be New Year’s Eve. I refuse.”

“When will it be then?”

“You’ll find out when I ask you to be mine.”

You pour for a bit before thinking it over, moving your hand into the bag to grab a grape. “Fine. But you have to do something for me now.”

“What?”

“Since you won’t ask me out, how about we do something to hold us over?” You flick your eyes to the phone and pull him closer while holding a grape between your fingers. “Come here! Come here!”

He watches you in confusion until you put the grape between your lips and lean closer to his face. He looks at you fondly, maybe even with a whisper of love, before leaning in.

And maybe you don’t eat an entire bag of grapes under your desk alone this year, but when Taehyun’s lips meet yours around the grape and the juices spill over your chins with giggles filling the room, you just know in your heart of hearts that this year will be better than the last. You hope you can do it again with him, next year as well, and every year after that.

Kai

You are at least ninety percent sure you don't believe in love at first sight. Though in this dimly lit club on New Year's Eve, the remaining ten percent is working overtime.

It is not love that makes you look over at the man standing in the corner, you insist to yourself. Nor is it love that makes you look a second, third, or fourth time. Since it's not love, you will call it an itch. Well, maybe not an itch, that sounds weird. You'll call it an inkling.

You decidedly do not take the time to consider what that inkling could mean. You are certain it’s not love but if it’s not, why is your heart trying to beat out of your chest just from some glances?

What is it about the man standing in the corner that makes you want to approach him? Is it how his dark hair frames his face and makes him appear almost angelic? Is it the way he shuffles from foot to foot as if uncomfortable? Is it the way his friends approach him but he gives a (blinding) smile and nods for them to go back to dancing?

That inkling leads you to gather all of your confidence and make your way to him. As you’re walking towards him you make eye contact and he tenses a bit before standing straighter. ‘I could love that.’

“Hi.” You say, shooting him a smile.

“Hi.” He returns before falling silent, but that’s okay. You didn’t exactly have a script planned out, just an inkling.

“Why’re you standing here all alone?”

“Ah, I was dancing with my friends earlier,” he gestures to where four guys are standing a bit away. Maybe they were dancing before but now they’re hitting each other and making kissy faces towards you. You look back to the man but he just shakes his head and smiles fondly at them. “Sorry about them. They can be a bit…. much.”

You wonder if they tease him often. Make little jokes to get him to share that same smile and headshake every time. You wonder if he would ever turn that smile to you one day. Maybe after you get to know him, you could tease him like that and wait for that smile. ‘I could love that.’

“It’s fine. I don’t mind…” You trail off looking at him expectantly.

“Kai.”

“Well, Kai, I would like to kiss you.” You see his eyes widen and if the club wasn’t so dark, you’d probably see a flush spread across his cheeks. ‘Cute. I could love that.’

You could leave it off there. But the inkling comes back and you know that’s not all you want from him. “And maybe I could take you on a date sometime?”

"Oh."

"Is that okay?" You ask because regardless of the thoughts swirling in your head, you aren't fond of forcing yourself onto this man. Hell, you don’t even know if he’s single.

"Ye-ah, yes! That's okay. I'm okay with that." You note the way his voice cracks with his words and how his body leans into you slightly. An all too familiar bell rings in your head that sounds suspiciously like 'I could love that.'

For all the hyping up you gave it in your mind, the kiss is nothing special. There are no fireworks or cheering, and you didn't even wait for the countdown to happen. It's just you and him, kissing in the corner of a dim club. You're pretty sure at least two people have bumped into you and it's hot and you're a little sweaty. So, yeah. The kiss is no big deal. He is no big deal.

It's just the way he squeezes your waist gently before pulling you flush against his body. It's just the way he tilts his head slightly to get a better angle. It's just the way his lips are soft and sweet with the faintest hint of alcohol. It's just the way he pulls back slightly to let out a sigh just to lean into you again. When he does place space between you, it's to let out a few words.

"Wanna get out of here? Maybe go on that date?" He sports a bashful smile and that bell goes off again. 'I could love him. I could. I could.'

"I'd like that a lot."

[ghostgirl-22]

https://www.tumblr.com/ghostgirl-22/767591680266436608/vibratoranon-you-made-me-write-this-too-for-some?source=share

Okkkk pls tell me I'm not the only one who wanted this to turn into a lil locker room gang bang... just slutty suggestible Art getting so riled up by the teasing touches of his team mates he finds himself bent over the bench being used in both holes.

Patrick just there watching the whole thing knowing he controls Art's orgasm. It's his cock that'll make his girl squirt back in their dorm and that's it.

Thoughts?

(love your writing so much you're so talented oml 💖)

Nope, you were not the only one my darling 💫

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

—-

Patrick knows Art.

How silly he gets when boys want him. When boys really, really fucking want him. Surprisingly it happens all the time. Maybe it’s all the all boys dorm, all the hormones. Close quarters. And Art’s always been pretty. Tall and blonde, baby blue eyes, long lashes with his boy next door charm and stupid little know it all smirk. The kinda stuff wet dreams are made out of.

Patrick starts it actually. Right after practice. Arts pulling his socks up over his calves and Patrick starts teasing him in front of everyone in the locker room. Touching his legs and asking why they’re so soft and hairless.

“They really are soft,” another boy chimes in, smirking and stealing a touch.

“And pale,” one more teammate says.

“Do you shave them? They’re so smooth like a girl,” Another boy laughs.

“No, no I don’t… stop it,” Art pushes them off and they’re off to the races. The touching leads to playing with his hair, leads to asking if he’s smooth anywhere else, everywhere else. Art starts flushing as the rest of the boys pile on. They start teasing and touching and then it's easy. So easy.

He goes mindless so fast from the attention. Boys, half naked, playing with him and he’s sitting there—chewing on his hoodie strings, eyes all soft, wetting his lips on every other word. Not even aware he’s doing it.

Patrick gets so fucking hard watching him. It’s why he did it in the first place.

He knows he’s not the only one. Half the boys in school already want to fuck him. Though if Patrick pointed that out (when Art wasn’t cockstupid) he would just laugh and say “you just think everyone wants to fuck me.”

He doesn’t have the intuition for this kinda thing the way Patrick does. Didn’t even understand why he’d get so hard for the teasing.

Even so Patrick doesn’t expect it.

He’s chatting with one of their teammates, Jesse, laughing about something that happened at a party over the weekend. He’s got an eye on Art. Always has an eye on Art. Especially when he’s in this state. Jesse follows his gaze and leans in whispering… “He’s too pretty right? Like girl pretty.”

Patrick smirks, tilting his head to the side, so he can stare at Art properly. “I dunno.”

The locker room has mostly cleared but for Patrick, Art, Jesse and a couple of other guys, Craig and Justin, who are still teasing Art while he’s leaning up against the locker. Art is flirting. Always flirting. Silly, slutty, mindless, flirting. He can’t turn it off.

One of the boys has his fingers in Arts hair. One with hands on his waist.

“You know you should probably let me kiss you,” Patrick can hear Craig say. Arts all flushed, glassy eyes and stammering as Craig leans in, taking his mouth. Justin starts rubbing Art through his shorts.

“Mm shit, you’re so hard, aren’t you?” Justin says quietly.

Patrick feels something in his brain start to malfunction. Getting stuck on this image.

Holy fuck.

The teasing has never ever gone this far.

Art is whiny through the kissing. “I think I’m…” He looks around breathlessly when Craig lets up for a minute. He looks like he’s trying to find some kind of semblance of control but he can’t focus. Can’t stop letting them touch him. Hands everywhere. Lips all over him. Fingers in his mouth on his body, under his hoodie. Even as Justin starts grinding up against him. He’s pushing back. Dizzy, drunk with need.

Patrick can feel his dick growing achingly hard along his pant leg.

Craig pulls Art down on the bench, onto his lap, Art’s moving his hips before he’s even on him properly. Its like they’re already fucking but they’ve still got clothes on. “You should come to my room. Sleep in my bed.” Craig says, biting, kissing, touching while Justin is kissing Art’s mouth.

Art groans, riding against whatever Craig is giving him. Patrick can’t help but wonder if its big.

“Jesus,” Jesse sighs next to Patrick. Patrick can see that he’s also visibly aroused. “He’s so…”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees.

“What about you?” Jesse whispers. “You ever fuck him, Zweig? You ever fuck your roommate?”

Patrick rubs his palms along his thighs, over his dick (yes, yes, fuck yes, but only after years of breaking, breaking, and breaking through sexual tension, is what he doesn’t say). He takes a deep breath and shrugs picking up his water bottle. “What do you think?” He asks, biting down on the cap.

“Of course you did.” Jesse says, lightly. “Better question, can I fuck him?” He asks.

Patrick smirks. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because… everyone knows he belongs to you.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna lose his mind.

He’s not mad or angry or jealous. Just suddenly so… so hungry. He gets up from the bench seat to grab his stuff out of his locker. “Art are you ready?” He asks, like Art’s not two steps away from letting their teammates use both of his holes to slut him out properly.

For whatever reason his words register for Art. “Mm Patrick?” He looks up, empty headed, still settled on Craig’s lap. “I can’t find my…” he trails off, hopeless.

“I know,” Patrick says.

“And I’m all…” Art shivers as Patrick helps him to his feet.

“I know. Come on,” Patrick says.

Craig is grinning at Patrick, he tries to grab at Art’s leg one more time. “You can come over whenever you want Donaldson,” he says.

“Anytime,” Justin agrees with a sigh, looking at his ass.

“I think I need to…to go home,” Art says, stumbling forward in his little adidas slides. Patrick steadies him.

And oh god is he a mess.

Hickeys blooming all over, sexed up hair in his eyes, lips pink and kiss swollen. Hoodie halfway unzipped, falling off his bare chest and shoulders. He starts biting idly at the sleeve of his hoodie, (fucking oral fixation) while Patrick grabs at it and zips him back up.

“Yeah sweetheart, you need to go home,” Patrick agrees, breathless, grabbing the fabric and pulling him close. “Hey look at me.”

Art’s gaze is cloudy but he tries to follow Patrick as much as he can.

“You can tease them all you want, fuck them if you need to, but I only want you to come for me okay?” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art nods, still chewing on his sleeve and as brainless as he is right now Patrick thinks he gets it.

It happens the second they get back in the dorm room. Just inside the doorway and Art’s all over him. He wants to be fucked, fucked, fucked for real. They do it up against the wall, on the bed, till Patrick rolls over all sticky and wet with lube and spit and come.

Art is all lucid now. Getting ready to go clean up. Doesn’t say sorry, probably doesn’t even remember how he got so desperate he almost let his teammates fuck him raw in the locker room. He’s just sated and warm, barely any clothes on, socks sliding off his calves and laughing at some dumb movie on the television.

And yeah. Patrick thinks he’d probably die for him.

Blergh, I have to admit this was kinda difficult to write because I don’t think Patrick really wanted to share but these OCs got farther than most methinks! One day I’ll just go for it… full on gangbang for that blonde boy.

[fromduck]

A Guided Hand

(Yandere Ghost x Horror Protagonist! Reader)

Tw: Gore

-unedited-

-I’m thinking about a Ghost who’s stalking this ditzy shy girl as she explores the haunted mansion where he resides in.

-He’s a scary Eldritch being, freakishly tall with eyes ripped from his skull. Long and thin arms that almost drag down to the floor. Long black hair that remains smooth and sleek despite his dirty appearance. His jaw hanging to his skull for dear life, he always has to readjust the darn thing to his annoyance.

-He walks slowly, dragging his feet almost like a zombie. He thinks it’s the damage his psyche endured when he was murdered. His killer didn’t hold back when he killed him, his brutality carrying onto the after life.

-He’s used to the scary environment where mad people wonder the halls, malicious spirts lurking in each shadow and monsters roam freely. All of them hunting down humans who mistakenly find themselves in the mansion.

-The others may find a thrill in the game of cat and mouse. But as someone who was a former human and victim, he finds no joy in doing what someone else did to him.

-So imagine his surprise at encountering a girl who is easy to scare and hides in the corner when shit hits the fan.

-He thinks you’re real cute and loves to scare tease you to death.

-Tugging on your hair, pinching your waist, blowing in your ear—-the bastard even flips your skirt up! Which never fails to make you scream or make you drop your flashlight.

-He can’t help it! He just loves your cute reactions!

-He just wants to pick you up and spin you around. Smush your cute chubby cheeks together!

-It doesn’t hurt that you smell really nice. Your sweet smell a nice change from the stench of death that permeates the mansion.

-But what he doesn’t like is when the other occupants of the house are hunting you down.

-He serves as your protector keeping you safe from all the other malicious beings of the mansion.

-When a crazed man holding a chainsaw came running at you and you went into shock out of fear, he had jumped into the murderer’s body.

-Possessing him was easy and so was driving the chainsaw into his belly. Killing the man instantly.

-Sure you might have passed out from the sight of gore, but at least you were safe!

-Along with protecting you, he does other things to help you.

-Guiding you in the right direction as you navigate through the dark hallways. Tugging on your shirt to go in the safe path with less monsters. As if to silently say, ‘this way.’

-Watching guard over you as you sleep curled up in hidden space.

-When your fear gets the better of you and you’re frozen with terror, he’ll give you a hug that you don’t feel. Even though you can’t see or hear him, you can feel his comforting presence and that serves to calm you down.

-You look around whenever he does that, and his deceased heart breaks when he realizes you’re looking for him. For the comforting presence that takes care of you.

-You recognize his presence and even labeled him your ‘guardian angel’, to his amusement.

-He really likes you and can you blame him for getting attached?

-He’s just looking for ways on how to speak with you. How to make it possible for you to see him. For him to touch you freely without having to concentrate really hard. He’d die another brutal death if he’d be allowed to run his grey fingers through your soft skin.

-He’s a ghost fallen in love with a mortal. And he’d do anything for you.

-It’s safe to say that when you leave this haunted place, he’ll be coming along with you 🤍