#(not sure how else I should tag these but lemme know if you think of something better pls)

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it���s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[lexsssu]

Is it possible to request for more sung jinwoo smut? Pls i'm a starved simpTT

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, dirty talk, breeding, smut, drabble Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Ngl I only just realized that I should have answered this ask with that Jinwoo drabble I recently crossposted from Ao3, but also because of that y'all get a totally new one that hasn't been posted there yet HAHAHAHAHA

Something has gotten into your husband.

How else could you explain the way he didn't even get you into bed before deciding he had to fuck you immediately? The way he so easily lifted you up and down his cock while standing up was certainly something you never expected from him.

"...'m sorry I couldn't reach the bed in time, but I couldn't help myself anymore..."

Despite his seemingly apologetic words, there is no sign of repentance from the way he savagely fucked up into you, almost as if you were just a mere onahole meant to receive his cock and cum.

For Jinwoo, his newfound powers hadn't just amplified his growth and potential as a hunter, but his already burning desire for you, his dearest wife, felt like it was fed steroids AND viagra.

Can he really be blamed for wanting to split your pretty pussy open and maybe fuck another baby inside of you? Fuck, just thinking about how soft and plump you get once he knocks you up again has his mouth watering already.

Perhaps another side effect of this new power was the fact that his depravity was also kicked up a notch or two

"Just cum for me one more time, 'kay sweetie? And lemme cream this pretty pussy too before we take a 'lil break..."

Sung Jinwoo did NOT give you a break, and proceeded to breed you until you felt as stuffed as a freshly-made cream-filled donut. And like said pastry, you could only really lie back as your unapologetic husband cleaned you up, making sure to push back any cum that tried to drip out of your with his long fingers.

Thankfully, Jinah had the foresight to take her nephew to her friend's place knowing full well that her brother and sister-in-law would be...preoccupied.

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before. 

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat. 

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy? 

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life. 

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic. 

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you. 

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

-

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face. 

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself. 

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him. 

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.” 

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat. 

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes. 

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it. 

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

-

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner. 

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things. 

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind. 

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like. 

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. 

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

-

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date. 

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable. 

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed. 

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be. 

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”. 

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. 

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

-

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring. 

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness. 

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel. 

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking. 

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable. 

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting. 

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently. 

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner. 

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies. 

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.” 

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full. 

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response. 

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

-

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you. 

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen. 

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas. 

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything. 

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right. 

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing. 

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough. 

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass. 

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft. 

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up. 

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment. 

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment. 

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight. 

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm 

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever the future may hold

Written for the May pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Graduation

Rated: M

Tags: Omegaverse; omega!Eddie; alpha!Steve; pregnancy; mentions of sex

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

Eddie turns the square cap in his hands, feeling utterly and supremely sorry for himself. He's been imagining this day for so long. Snatching that diploma from Higgins's unwilling hands and prancing off that stage into a brighter, better future.

Only now, that future fills him with nothing but dread.

He groans, burying his face in his arms.

It was all going so well.

A while ago, when Carver and his possee found out about his little omegan secret, he thought his life was over.

Except Steve Harrington swooped in like a white, baseball bat wielding knight and saved him, and took him home, and cared for him. Knotted him near damn stupid, too, not that Eddie is complaining.

They've since commenced what must be the weirdest courtship in the history of courtship - stolen glances and subtle gifts and furtive dates at Steve's house or Eddie’s trailer. Eddie has kept his secret safe, and Steve is its biggest protector.

It's perfect. Everything Eddie never knew he wanted.

So of course it couldn't last.

“Eddie?”

Shit!

He must've been so far gone in his head he didn't hear the trailer door open, didn't catch the scent wafting into his bedroom. Pine needles and moss and sunlight.

“Stevie,” he croaks, and his stomach twists.

Footsteps approach. The doorknob rattles once, twice, before Steve realizes it's locked. His scent turns worried. Steve's worried about him. Eddie’s needy hindbrain whines at the thought.

“Eds, lemme in. Please?”

Eddie is unlocking the door before he even realizes he’s moved. Quickly, dread clawing at his guts, he retreats back onto his bed.

“Hey,” Steve ducks around the gown dangling from its hanger by the door. “Wayne called, said you wouldn’t come out of your room? Ceremony’s about to start, what are you- Eddie? What’s wrong?”

Because he has just spotted Eddie, back against the wall, arms wrapped around hunched knees, trembling hand still clasping the cap. Steve is in front of him in an instant, mattress dipping under his weight. His hands cup Eddie’s face, tilting his head up, and Eddie knows he should pull away, he really should. Still, he’s helpless to do anything but let himself sink into Steve’s comforting touch and scent.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is a barely restrained growl. “Carver try shit again? You know you don’t have to worry-”

Eddie shakes his head. His stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl its way out of his throat. “It’s not Carver.”

Steve’s brow furrows.

“But then, what- … Are you sick?” He leans in, nosing the hollow of Eddie’s neck. “Your scent’s a bit off. Should I call a doctor, or-”

“Will you fucking leave it?” Eddie slaps Steve's hands away. The cap hits the mattress with a soft thud. “I'm not sick! Jesus!”

Steve's eyes are full of hurt confusion and worry. It makes Eddie want to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“But I don't-” Steve stammers. “Why won't you-”

“Because I'm pregnant, okay?”

Steve's words screech to a halt. His eyes grow large, mouth forming a dumb little oh shape. It would be funny, Eddie thinks hysterically, if there was anything remotely funny about this entire clusterfuck of a situation.

“Wha-” Steve starts to say. Shuts his mouth. Opens it again. “I mean how- … I mean … are you sure?”

Like a line from some cliché soap opera. Eddie laughs weakly.

“Been puking my guts out all week. Took five tests, all positive. I'm pretty fucking sure, big boy.”

Silence seeps into the room. For a moment, Eddie thinks Steve's going to continue right on with the soap opera shit and ask when it happened. If it’s his. But Steve knows Eddie has never been with anyone else. Knows they've always been careful - except for that very first time.

Eddie screws his eyes shut and waits.

“Wow,” Steve breathes after an eternity. “That’s … that’s unbelievable.”

Eddie furrows his brow. Steve’s voice is brimming with incredulity, but also with something else. Something that, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d put close to … happiness? Hesitantly, he peeps one eye open.

He’s just in time to see Steve launch himself at him, and then he’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Steve’s scent crests over him, heady and familiar.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to mumble against the rapid staccato of Steve’s heartbeat. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Steve pulls back just enough to look at him. His smile is so wide, Eddie’s afraid his face might be too small for it. “Why would I be mad? You know I want kids, loads of them!”

“Well yeah,” Eddie stammers. The room is spinning and all he can see is Steve’s smile. “But-”

“And you know I can’t imagine a better person to have them with than you.”

“Well …” Eddie can practically feel himself flush. “I guess.”

Steve leans in to kiss his forehead. “Then why are you so upset, dumbass?”

“Well, I dunno,” Eddie blurts, unable to keep the sarcastic undertone at bay. “Maybe cause I’m barely out of school? Or because we’re not even mated? Because your parents will go absolutely fucking-”

“Fuck my parents,” Steve declares. “This is about you and me. We’ll figure it out one step at a time. First, and most importantly: Do you want to have this kid with me?”

One large hand finds Eddie’s stomach, splaying itself over it, warm and safe. Eddie feels how something inside of him goes soft.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, I’d love that.”

“Brilliant,” Steve beams, and kisses him. Eddie melts into it, but just as he’s about to lose himself in that summer forest scent, Steve pulls away. Eddie frowns as something is placed on his head - the stupid cap.

“And second,” Steve winks, giving his stomach one last gentle pat, “You gotta put on that gown and let me drive you to school. The two of you need to walk in half an hour.”

Poor Steve brought beer for the celebration. He'll need to drink it all by himself, whelp.

They're baaack, and they're having a baby!!! I said I'd write more of these two sooner rather than later, didn't I?

[d10nsaint]

HOTEL— Leon, Chris, Albert x fem! reader.

summary; They know that they should leave you alone— after all, they ended the relationship. And yet, they just cant get enough of you after the breakup.

Tags/ Warnings:Nsfw themes (no smut) Ex! boyfriend/Fiancé Leon, Chris, & Albert x fem! reader. Toxic relationship themes in Leon & Wesker’s part. RE6 Leon, RE5 Wesker, & pre-RE6 Chris. features a summary and a scenario for all characters!

LEON K.

LEON who comes to your door in the middle of the night. He swears he wont come back, that he’ll leave you alone.

You both know he’s lying.

After a particularly grueling mission, he just needs to be held—and who else could warm his heart & tell him that he’s safe other than his ex-girlfriend?

He was the one who broke things off. He was the one who said that you could’ve gotten hurt in the relationship—and no matter how much you pleaded, he walked out of the door without sparing a second thought. But now that same man is in front of your door, drunk, begging to be let in.

“Baby pleaseeeee let me in,” He was practically crying for you. “‘promise i’ll leave you ‘lone after tonight, I swear, baby, just for tonight, lemme treat you good.” His words were barely even making sense to you. He wanted to sleep with you? You couldnt let him drive back home because he’s shit-faced and if he died, it’d rain hell on your conscience.

“Come in, Leon.” You stepped to the side and let him stumble through the door. The moment he gained his composure he was hugging you as tightly as possible.

“I know I did you wrong baby, but please. Mission went shit. Need ya’, you always tell me how good I am —you make me feel so good, I just need you right now, just for one night, then i’ll be outta ye hair.”

You had every fucking right to push him out of the door.

Who did he think he is? Dumping you then coming back to you when he needs you?

And yet, you let him in.

You let him touch you, let him beg and plead for you to let him do this again. Because you loved him.

And when he came back for more, you let him in with open arms.

CHRIS R.

CHRIS who meets you accidentally. You both worked for the BSAA, and even though you worked in different departments, you two met each other at a company gathering at a bar.

The entire night is awkward touches and averted glances. The break-up was a mutual thing— Chris was married to his work and didn’t have time for you. simple. Even so, that didn’t mean that unsettled feelings weren’t in the air.

At the end of the night, you’re both wasted and end up sharing a taxi (courtesy of Jill, who sees the tension between you two) and somehow, He ends up at your house. More than once after that.

The taxi was filled with your giggles and the smell of liquor as you laughed at Chris while reminiscing about how your relationship used to be. This felt so normal— you, him having fun with lingering touches in places where friends don’t usually put their hands.

His hand was rubbing your upper thigh, sliding your dress up. You were sobering up by the minute, but you didnt want the moment to end.

No other man could satisfy you the way chris did—the way he knew when to be rough, what spots made you moan.

And you both knew what would’ve happened if you gave in to the pleasure—this would become a common occurrence.

But you loved Chis, so much.

You’d risk anything just to touch him again, and by the third time he came back to your house, you’re sure he would too.

ALBERT W.

ALBERT who comes back for you after years of radio silence.

The last time you saw him, it was before he left for the Spencer mansion. Afterwards, STARS just..disappeared. Nobody knew where the members went.

You tried to move on—knowing that you couldn’t be hung up on him forever, and lets face it, he was probably dead. Umbrella came crumbling down, and there was no trace of him.

Of course, until 2005.

Chris Redfield came to your door, talking about how your fiancé was still alive. Of course, your relationship hadn’t been the best—it was built on lust and thin walls of trust, but you’d be damned if you didn’t see the man again.

Chris also told you about uroboros, asking you if you’d known anything about Albert’s schemes.

A few months after your ‘talk’ with Chris, you’re home alone when a short (but assertive) knock hits your door.

Of course, you cautiously open the door.And who the hell do you see?

A fucking Huge man with sunglasses looking down at you.

“ There you are, dearheart.” Albert took a small step forward and put a hand on your cheek. His hands were fucking freezing, making you fully awake if you weren’t before.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You stepped away from the door as if scared (Which, you were, he was tall as shit.)

“Im just visiting my fiancé, is there a problem?” He stepped past you into the house. He took a glimpse around then slid his shoes off by the front door. You were fucking baffled.

“ Albert, what the fuck are you doing? Years of fucking silence from you and you just—appear? You waltz into my home thinking nothing had changed?!”

“Why’re you questioning something you know you wont get the answers to? It’s like trying to prevent the inevitable.” He seemed so nonchalant as he strolled into your house, observing where you’ve been living.

“It seems as if you’re taking good care of yourself. perfect.”

“what in the hell do you want, Albert?” You let out a deep sigh— if anybody found out that Albert was here, you’d be taken in for questioning and all of that shit— worse case arrested for letting him into your house.

“simple. I want you.”

[theworldofotps]

The Nights (Drabble)

Pairing: Hook x Reader Word Counter: 780 Description: He's just trying to get over the thought of you.

Loosely based off the song Stick Season _______ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose​ @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. Hook Tag list: @wickedval ________ Another night, another cloud of smoke encircled his head as he sat on his fire escape watching the city buzzing by. His phone lit up illuminating his face as he read it hoping but knowing it wouldn’t be a text from you.

‘We’re really worried about you man nobody’s heard from you in a week least let someone know you’re okay.’ Setting the phone back on his lap Tyler took another inhale of the joint holding the smoke until his lungs burned then blew it into the dark night sky. Of course, he was okay well at least physically he was but emotionally he probably wouldn’t be the same ever again. Not after losing the most important person in his world.. “This is going to be amazing mamas I can’t wait for you to come back to New York I have so much for us planned.”

Tyler smiled as he put away the last of the laundry making sure his apartment was clean and suitable enough for you. The line remained quiet with the only sound being the tires on the road before you let a breath out. “Actually, I’ve um changed my mind.” He didn’t know this but at the time you spoke these words you passed his exit and continued driving. “I’m sorry what?” “I know it’s a shitty thing to do on the phone but I’m going up to Canada to visit a friend for a few weeks. I didn’t know how to tell you and honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to.” “Why didn’t you just say anything?’ “Because breaking up over the phone isn’t something I planned to do but I think it’s for the best. We’ve been growing apart with your traveling and my work schedule. I’m tired of not seeing you and of not having a boyfriend close by. I’m sorry this is the last thing I wanted to have happen, but I think it’s for the best.”

Thinking back over that night all these weeks later and if he was honest with himself, he knew something wasn’t right. You had been acting weird ever since the two of you started making plans for a visit, you’d trail off or switch the subject to something else.

He was still dealing with all the feelings that came from having a relationship suddenly end, he felt pain that he never experienced before not even in ring. His chest was heavy and often felt tight, he was angry that you wouldn’t even give him a chance to try and make things better or reassure you it would work out.

But he knew it wasn’t just all on you, he’d been a bit too busy with work and didn’t call you as often as he should have. He never imagined he would be at this end, sure other relationships failed but he always had faith that yours would last. And now just like that you were gone, you who was supposed to be Tyler’s future. The love of his life the person he hoped to marry someday not that he ever got the chance to ask you.

Despite the breakup being over two months ago he still felt like he did the night it happened; felt like a whole opened in his chest. It got worse because he saw your mother recently. She stopped by to pick up some of your things and told him that you were taking it hard despite everything she knew that you loved him. It helped a little but not enough to make him want to rejoin society.

He'd called a couple of times and even sent a few texts to try and see if he could change your mind but you never returned them. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to get back to real life. Tony was trying to be understanding and give him time, they wrote him off with an injury, but he knew he needed to get back. Most days he spent smoking trying to numb the longing and loneliness he felt for you, but no matter how much he smoked he still thought about you. At night was the worst when the rest of the world was silent his mind and dreams were plagued with different versions of you. No matter what he tried he just couldn’t escape it all. Tyler knew in time he would get over you, knew that one day in the future you’ll be nothing more than just a thought in his mind. As for now? He would just have to take it a day at a time trying to get over loving you.

[scribbly-artist]

Vander and Silco Tickle Headcanons

My inner demons won, I decided I wanted to make this lol.

This will cover both of them in the past briefly as well as them in the present, but not in the AU as I can’t really think of anything notable that I won’t already cover.

I think they turned out pretty well. :) And I hope you all do as well! Lemme know if I should write any other character headcanons. I’m maybe inclined to write some for characters I haven’t written fics for get as a gateway drug to finally writing for them. 🤔

PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE JOURNEY FELLAS, UNDER THE CUT WE GO.

Vander

Vander Vander Vander hi hello.

He’d do some major tickle damage with his beard if he’s inclined to do so. It looks really soft rather than scratchy?? Which is either good or bad depending on how you take it

He’d totally give cheer-up tickles to all his adopted kids and to anyone when they’re feeling down. Especially to Powder when one of her machines doesn’t work the way she intended it to or if Mylo is being really mean towards her

No one can outrun the big fella, unless they squeeze into a tiny space he can’t reach, then he gives up the chase

In turn he’s a scary tickle monster from his size alone. He could totally grab two people and tickle them both at the same time

I feel like he doesn’t tease super often and not super directly, more in a “doesn’t it feel good to let it all out?” or a “this is what happens when you decide to be a little shit” kind of way

I feel like he’s not super ticklish and he doesn’t seem like the ticklish type because he’s the big strong leader that’s meant to protect his kids and his fellow Zaunites. Surely Zaun’s leader couldn’t have such a weakness

But he’s ticklish and very few people know about it

Some of the very few people who know he’s ticklish is, of course, his kids

They needed proof. They all devised a plan and tag teamed him once and got a couple laughs out of him. Only a couple until he went full Tickle Monster Dad Mode

I feel like his ribs are his most ticklish spot, his feet next. He’s not OVERLY ticklish, but if you poke and prod enough he’ll laugh a little. When you’re getting him really good, he’s got a loud, booming laugh. It bounces off the walls

It’s a rare sight, but one to permanently etch in your memory. The corners of his eyes crinkle up and he has a warm smile on his face, UGH MY HEART <3

Silco

Ah Silco. My first Arcane crush I forgot about until I rewatched S1 after S2’s release, and then I fell SO HARD for Viktor

This man gets nervous when tickling is on the table lol. He tries to say he isn’t, but he doesn’t hide it very well

I think he’s most ticklish on his sides and his legs, and weirdly his hands?? I’ve just got a feeling about it

Post Act 2, he needs to maintain his image, so he doesn’t let others get close. Jinx knows he’s ticklish from kid antics and Sevika only knows because she walked in once while Jinx was tickling him in his office

He’s banned Jinx from attending any chem-baron meetings because she would get bored and start prodding his sides mid-way while he was speaking. Everyone attending the meeting found it hilarious

He would die of embarrassment and shame if anyone else knew, though

He tries to hold his laugh back… for about five seconds

He has low, quiet chuckles only just escaping his throat, to full blown cackles when a really ticklish spot is targeted. When he’s laughing really hard he scrunches up his face and he hates when that happens

If you tickle him, he will 100% get you back tenfold, guaranteed

I feel like before he got scary after his betrayal, he could still instil fear into others if he tried hard enough

Approaching his prey with an evil glint in his eye. When he sees them squirm, he smirks

He can very easily grab onto their wrist before they run away too far and tickle them to pieces as revenge

And post Act 2, he doesn’t even need to do the chasing. He can very easily command Sevika to grab his target very easily

“Undone with just a little tickling?” “This will teach you that you crossed the wrong man.” “I applaud your efforts. Unfortunately for you, it was all for nothing.”

Some extras as a little treat

Silco would instigate tickle fights with Vander, but he would lose 99% of the time. And can you blame him? Have you SEEN how big Vander is compared to Silco? He TOWERS him dude

When Vander tickles Silco back, he regrets ever attempting to start a tickle fight because Vander can be ruthless if he chooses to be

Silco and Vander would totally tag team a target

Silco would just need to have a look in his eye and Vander would grab their target lee in a bear hug for Vander and Silco to tickle them to pieces

I feel like when they were friends they would bicker sometimes, leading Vander to tickle Silco to shut him up/stop the fighting

[finnbbl]

Hyunjin x M! Reader - Dancer AU | SMAU | Chapter 10

Ch. 10 - Cutie | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

| Story Masterlist |

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: sry i fell off the face of the earth 😭 I got a writers block then got super busy and stressed with classes. Updates probably won’t be daily, I’ll update whenever the chapters are done <3 sorry to make you wait so long, and tysm for ur support !

P.S. let me know your thoughts on the story so far! i’m a bit insecure on some chapters and want ur guys honest opinion!

Warnings: Uhm swearing? Typos, not proofread. lemme know if i missed anything

The night went on with all 9 of you guys joking around and having fun. For once, you felt as if you fit in, like you belonged somewhere. The night was nearing an end, most stores were closed as it was rather pretty late.

Everyone had decided to window shop. At one point, without even realizing it, you had wandered off. Although it was late, there were still a few other people out and about.

You weren't paying attention, and the next thing you knew you had bumped into someone. You turned towards him as you apologized profusely. He was taller, had darker hair, and was dressed in a hoodie with a jean jacket over it. "I'm so sorry, I should've looked where I was going." You internally panicked as you bent down to pick up his bag, which you had previously accidentally knocked out of his hand. "It's alright sweetheart, don't worry."

You froze. "Sweetheart?" Your mind wandered around that thought as you unknowingly. Your eyes were lost on his gorgeous face as you unknowingly kept a tight grip on the bag. The guy's sentence snapped you out of your trance.

"You okay?" Immediately, you let go of it. "Oh, sorry." A nervous smile fell on your face as you quickly handed it to him and brought a hand to your now warm forehead. The guy chuckled at you as he complimented, "You're cute."

His compliments keep catching you off guard, before you even had a minute to register anything he said, he spoke up again. "You're not busy are you?" You shook your head at his question, wondering how you even got to this point.

For a moment, you completely forgot about everyone else.

This guy was intoxicating. "I've seen you've been wandering around with some other guys, mind if I tag along?" It was at this moment your body decided before your heart did. "Sure, that's fine." Throwing him a smile as he held out his hand for you to shake as he introduced himself. "I'm Mingyu."

"Mingyu.. that sounded familiar." You had sworn you'd heard that name somewhere. Pondering as you connected his hand with yours, shaking slowly. "Y/N." Unable to form a full sentence as you left him with just your name. "Y/N there you are." A voice behind you caught you off guard as you saw that Bang Chan was running in your direction. He seemed a bit worried. "You can't run off like that this late." Chan took a peek at who you were talking to. "Oh hey! Haven't seen you in a while. What are you doing in Japan?" The leader abandoned your guy's conversation and went over to talk to Mingyu. "Ah just touring, we have some free time so." The way he spoke captured you, and you felt like you couldn't take your eyes off of him. "You don't mind if I tag along with you guys do you?" By this time, the other members had caught up with you three and now listened in on their conversation.

"Ah, I think we're about to head back, it's decently late.

Sorry about that."

"Ah no worries, as long as I can get this one's number." His hand laid a gentle tap on your arm. In the few minutes you had been around him, you could tell Mingyu was a very flirty person. This left you sort of embarrassed, but it also left butterflies swirling around your stomach. God, you know that these boys would tease you about this later.

And damn were you right.

After you all filed onto the bus once again, they started messing with you. "Awh how cute, someone has themself a boyfriend." Hyunjin who was next to you nudged our shoulder. "Stop." You pushed him off of you. "I don't have anything."

"Mhmmm sure. That's why your eyes were glued to his face during his whole conversation with Chan."

"I was just trying to figure out who he was. That's all." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in your seat. “Pfft yeah right, everyone knows who Mingyu is. Not a very good excuse.” Lee Know stated again. “Only his name sounds familiar, i can’t think of anything else.” You let out a sigh as you rolled your eyes. Letting your body flop back in the seat as you crossed your arms. “Damn, so you really don’t know?” Felix’s voice sounded and your head shot in his direction, a questioning look on your face as you shook your head. “So you don’t listen to Seventeen?”

Your eyes widened as the group’s name was said. “You’re kidding, Seventeen?!” You sat back up as you heard Hyunjin laugh from next to you. “So I just embarrassed myself in front of the Mingyu from Seventeen?!” You dug your face in your hands, slouching back down. “I don’t think you embarrassed yourself, all you did was make googoo eyes at him for ten minutes.” Hyunjin teased as he neared your face. Feeling annoyed already, you pushed him away. “You’re so irritating!” He only laughed at your reaction as you rolled your eyes. The rest of the bus ride was pretty much just the others teasing you. Although you didn’t particularly enjoy it, you definitely enjoyed the time you spent with them. Finally, you had found your place.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo @lampcults @chaer4life

Bold can’t be tagged, please check settings to make sure you can be notified !

[sanaxo-o]

Heartbeat Pounding (Lee Sangyeon)

Warnings: cursing, friends to lovers (kind of) fluff, very cute, Sangyeon just being the best man out there. Nothing else I can think of but lemme know if I should add anything ;)

Word count: 2,274

Sana: hiii so like a very cutesy fic for Sangyeon is here and tagging my Sangyeon enthusiast @winterchimez (hope you’re doing well hon) and @strayed-quokka <3 hope you both enjoy this small piece of mine hehe.

Taglist: @kimsohn @cloverdaisies @mosviqu @mars101

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Heaving out a long sigh you keep staring out the window with your thoughts all jumbled up. Who would have thought or guessed that a small date like this would mess you up so bad??

You just thought that going on a date a few days before your birthday would be a great idea. It would help you socialise more but instead you were now in this depressive slump because of that jerk of a date.

Throwing your head back in anger you let out a frustrated groan as you mess up your already messy hair.

That date was such a jerk, you should have known about that the moment you entered the restaurant. The more time you spent with that jerk the more you realised, he was single for a reason and that’s clearly showing.

Not only was he belittling other women he dated but he had the audacity to think that they were the problem in the relationship when he clearly was the one.

Rolling your eyes, you stand up from your place and go towards your doorway to open the door for your friend Sangyeon.

You have known him since you both were in middle school, he knew almost no cut that he knew everything about you.

Yes, there were times when you would think what it would be like to date him, have him as your life partner but they remained as thoughts within would be left unanswered and unknown.

No matter how close you are with him, no way in hell are you going to risk ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush or attraction you had towards him when you were young.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him as soon as you open the front door and lean against the wall so that he can enter the house.

“Oh, nothing. I am here to pick you up.” You hear him say from the kitchen as you sit down on the couch comfortably as you wrap yourself in a huge blanket to keep your body warm.

“Pick me up? I am not going anywhere though..” you say in confusion as you lift your blanket up when you see Sangyeon walking back towards you with a glass of juice in his hands.

“Oh we’re going out..” he says softly as he gets in the blanket and makes sure to tuck you both in it tightly.

Placing his hands on your shoulders he lets you snuggle close towards him as if it was not a big deal.

I mean it wasn’t, being close with each other like this was a normal occurrence when it comes to the two of you. So you don’t know why it feels so different suddenly.

“Going where?” You ask, your voice coming out mumbled as your head was placed on the crook of his neck. You could feel Sangyeon’s soothing hand patting your head gently which made you feel better than before.

“Oh that’s for you to find out. Now get up and go get ready, will ya?” He says as he pulls your head away from him and makes you stand up.

Scowling at him you throw him a glare as you walk away from him and go into your room to get ready.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

“For how long are we gonna be here for?” You ask with boredom as you let out a small sigh with your cheeks puffed out because of tiredness.

“Till your mood gets better..” Sangyeon says as he chuckles when he sees you rubbing your eye, “What’s wrong, hmm?” Sangyeon asks once he notices that you were still rubbing your eyes with your hand.

“I think something got in my eye..” you whisper as you continue rubbing your eye. You could feel it sting and burn but you could not help but keep on rubbing it.

“Here, let me see.” You hear Sangyeon say as he takes a hold of your hand and pulls them away from your eye.

He lets out a sigh in concern when he notices your eyes turning red. Grabbing a hold onto your cheeks he makes you look up slightly as he blows air in your eyes hoping it would help.

“Come with me. Let’s wash your eyes..” he says softly as he grabs your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as he drags you towards the washroom.

Entering the washroom he stands in front of the basin and turns on the faucet, “Wait, let me tie your hair back..” he says in a hurry, taking your hair tie from your hand he gently pulls your hair back in his hands as he strokes them carefully trying not to pull them.

Tying your hair back he makes sure it’s tight but not tight enough to hurt your scalp or pull them too hard.

“Good?” Sangyeon asks softly as he walks towards the basin again and turns on the faucet. “Bring your face here..” he says softly as he helps you wash your eyes.

Grabbing a hold of your neck he gently brought it closer to the water, washing your face with the water he made sure your eyes got better.

Turning off the faucet, he grabbed a few tissues and tapped them on your face, careful to not mess up your makeup which was not much but in his eyes you looked pretty either way.

“Feeling any better?” He asks softly as he removes your hair tie gently and fixes your hair for you.

Nodding your head you give him a small smile. You could feel your smile widening when he grabs your hand and starts walking ahead.

“Where do you want to go first?? The arcade or the toy store?” Sangyeon asks once you were on the escalator going on the second floor.

“Why would we want to go to the toy store?” You ask in confusion as you stare up at Sangyeon. You noticed him give you a grin as he messed up your hair slightly.

“To buy you a stuffed you, of course. We will just go to the toy store and get you a stuffed toy, yeah?” He says once you guys reach the second floor.

You just shake your head knowing there’s no way he’s going to listen to you if you say no.

Reaching the toy store you both stroll around the shop abit when you come across a plush toy of Sylveon.

You had liked that Pokémon since you were a kid, it was one of the eighth evolutions of Eevee.

Picking it up you checked the price only to place it back down, it was expensive and you did not want Sangyeon to pay so much over a stuffed animal just because you like it.

Walking away from there you fail to notice when Sangyeon himself takes the toy in his hand and goes towards the counter to buy it.

“Do you like anything?” You hear Sangyeon whisper behind you, flinching as you drop the small stuffed animal of a panda which was placed in a bamboo.

“Hmm, this panda stuffed animal..” you say as you show him the one which was in your hand.

“You like it? Then let’s buy it..” saying that he snatched the animal from your hand and walked away to pay at the counter again.

Skipping your way out of the shop you look back at Sangyeon when you notice the paper bag in his hand.

“What’s in that?” You mutter in confusion as you try to take a peek inside only for Sangyeon to hide it behind his back.

“Nothing, let’s go to the food court to buy some food for you. You must be hungry after walking the whole day, yeah?” He says that as he walks away with fast steps leaving you behind as you just stare at his back in confusion.

—x—

Settling down on the table you keep staring at the paper bag which was in front of you. You knew Sangyeon took notice of that but he chose not to speak on it knowing how stubborn you can get, “Just tell me what’s in the bag..” you say as you shake his arm which was holding a piece of pizza.

“No way, it’s a secret. Now let me eat my food in peace.” He says with a scowl as he continues eating the pizza with a smile on his face.

You knew he was enjoying your distressed behaviour over wanting to know what’s in the bag but it’s for you so you’re gonna know about it sooner or later so that’s what matters.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

“Ah, I am so tired. I am gonna head off to bed. You can leave or stay over.” You tell him as you remove your coat and place it on the couch.

Not having the energy to place it on the hanger properly, you just leave the living room and go in your room.

You could hear Sangyeon nagging at your untidy behaviour from the living room but you just rolled your eyes. Being used to this at this point.

Getting under the covers you cover your body with your thick blanket which has been a source of comfort for you, it was gifted to you by Sangyeon so of course you would never let go of it even when it’s old and rough.

“Are you sleeping?” You hear a small, gentle voice ask from your door. You knew it was Sangyeon but you kept your eyes closed waiting for him to continue with what he was about to do.

“Okay good, you will probably see this once you wake up so I will just place this here beside you..” he talks to himself as he places a stuffed toy between your arms.

Peeking one of your eyes open you could feel your heart warming up to his kind gesture once you process the fact that it was in fact the Sylveon stuffed animal you had your eye on.

“I hope you hold this stuffed toy I bought for you whenever you feel down…” he whispers as he pats your forehead in a rhythmic manner.

You could feel your cheeks turning up in a smile but you tried your best to hide it. You could not believe that Sangyeon still remembers this small thing you like.

It must have been long ago when you mentioned in a conversation that you liked when people would pat your forehead in rhythm. It would help you calm down and feel better. You never thought that Sangyeon paid such close attention to it but now you.

“I hate that guy you went on a date with, the way he made you feel made me upset. Well I was also upset over the fact that I did not take you on a date but what can I say? I am a coward like that.” He says with a chuckle as he stops patting your head. “I like you…I like you Y/N..I have liked you since the moment I saw you dating that guy in high school. I thought of confessing to you a numerous times but I always backed out last minute. I was afraid, you know? Afraid that you might reject me or I might just not reach your standards. I was scared that I might lose this friendship we have built over the years over my feelings. I don’t want that..you’re probably the only friend I have kept in touch with and I am glad I did because I don’t know what I might do without you in my life Y/N..” he says in a hushed voice as he leans down and gives your forehead a small kiss, “I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will.” Saying that you hear him close the door.

Clutching onto your chest you let yourself breathe again. Looking back at the closed door you heard Sangyeon close your main door.

‘Think fast stupid. It’s now or never’ saying that in your mind you immediately get out of the bed and dash out of the house with the Sylveon plush clutched tightly in your hands.

“Sangyeon! Wait!” You scream at the top of your lungs when you see Sangyeon walking out of the complex. You knew tomorrow morning a complaint would be at your door the first thing in the morning but that was your least of your worries at the moment.

“Y/N? What are you still doing up? I thought you were sleeping?” Sangyeon mutters under his breath but you catch onto it quickly.

“I heard what you said..” you said once you were standing in front of him, “You idiot…I..I like you too..” you mutter as you take another step closer to him.

“I knew I liked you but I just could not accept the fact that I was liking my own best friend. I was in that denial for too long..I tried everything. I tried to distance myself from you so that my feelings don’t grow but in return it hurted both of us. I tried to bury my feelings away by dating but none of them felt right and most of the dates turned out to be huge jerks anyways…” you say with a chuckle as you take a hold of sangyeon’s hand in yours.

“I think it’s about time we give this new relationship of ours a chance..” you say with a smile adorning your face.

You could hear your heartbeat, it was pounding so loud that it reached till your ears. You were pretty sure Sangyeon heard it too.

[lowkeyren]

Hi there! I hope you're having a great day. I saw someone else do this, though I can't remember who but,

Tag your favorite author(s) and share which fic or line from their writing you love the most.

Feel free to ignore if you don't want to do it! Love you 💗

hol' up lemme cook (sorry for the tag!!)

“do you want to die?” he angrily counters and you click your tongue. “if it isn’t by your hands, no, no i don’t.” moze hated how you made his ears ring with such simple words. to bystanders –outsiders of your relationship– they would be concerned, but to moze, it was a declaration of the highest affection.  “then don’t die now,” he mutters. “your life is mine to take.” “not if i take yours first.”

@vxnuslogy : hate is a strong word.

ily vee please don't die i genuinely cant get enough of ur writing!!!!! therapy can't save me anymore, only vxnuslogy's fics can. (atp ill tattoo your mlist onto my body so ill never forget the url)

“This can’t be how your story ends." Your fist balls up the fabric of your pants in its grip. “Locked away, isolated from the rest of the world - that can’t be what you want. It is too cruel a fate for you.” For you, who loved humanity so deeply.

@milksnake-tea : say you still dare to dream.

+ the entire otosom series. thx for the posture check you saved me from scoliosis cus you never fail to have me sit up on my chair whenever you post. THE sunday writer EVER ong (defo the first author that comes to my mind when sm1 asks for sunday fic recs)

“This is unreasonable,” he starts. “Not for me, it isn’t,” you say softly. “If it’s for you, nothing is unreasonable.” His voice raises, trembling upon its crumbling pedestal, panic seeping into every word. “I don’t deserve that kindness - that mercy. I am a sinner, I am a traitor, I am-” “You are a man worth saving.”

You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love. It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night.  Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. 

@earthtooz : distance.

i think you shld know that i (re)read your fics religiously. 10/10 humor and ur portrayal of characters >> spot on honestly, another author whose fics r must-reads!!!

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you. “like what?” “i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

@azullumi : i wanna be yours.

always gotta lay on my bed when reading your fics cus how else am i supposed to giggle and kick my feet :((( no sitting on a chair isn't enough i need to roll around to satisfy my excitement.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

“still with the formalities... surely now you can address me by my name, can you?” jiaoqiu coaxes, like saying it might wash away all the fatigue in the world, because every inch of his being, from the tips of his ears to the veins in his heart and the wisps of his soul, his yearning and pining echoes and resounds in the cavity of his chest that holds only you, you, you. what, jiaoqiu wonders, would it take for him to be the sole beholder of your brilliance? his hands holding yours, gripping faithfully and unfalteringly, your fates bound by knots; crimson in nature, entwined forevermore? his eyes soften because of course they do—for you mold him into a being devoted to commemorating your existence into his flesh, your voice settling in the marrow of his bones.

@iceunhie : art of the fan.

#1 author to read fics of that'll GUARANTEE leave ur mouth agape btw. if you die without reading a fic from mhie WHAT WERE YOU DOING, YOU MISSED OUT BIG TIME BFRRR.

A soft grunt cannot be prevented when he finally, finally feels your touch staggering into a bundle of nerves on his wings. He feels you trace the sensitive flesh and soft feathers with delicacy, following a clumsy pattern down the bone then the ridge of his vertebrae like you’re counting the columns of his spine. His heart is at war with himself, hammering and loud in his ears as he becomes hyper fixated with your touch, he just had to be selfish a bit.

@luvether : his anatomy.

GUYS press 1 if you're addicted to this author's fics. (1)

your godsent works are like daily doses of dopamine. i legit devour ur fics up like who needs drugs when you have luvether!!!!!

Sunday had come so far to know you that he remembers how much you favor staying in a routine, a pattern. Your kisses fall similar to your paradigm, for you had traced your lips down the lines of his spine, sending sparks of electricity through his arteries.

there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes, a wolfish grin tugging on your lips. you dip your head, murmuring something into his ear just as stelle had done to you earlier. what leaves your lips is an apology. but what for? he — — you kiss him. his ears ring. faintly, he can feel several pairs of eyes boring into him, into you, and into what seemed to be a lingering kiss. yet all he can wrap his mind around is the tip of your nose against his skin, your warm breath fanning over his cheek. it is not a kiss. it is not a kiss. “sorry guys,” you declare, twirling back to face the group of researchers. they stare at you, stunned silent. you don’t mind a bit, your smile only brightening. “but he’s taken.”

@synqiri : today is yesterday's tomorrow.

so much to say sighs. but for this fic in particular (that has stuck w me ever since u posted it), the slowburn IS slowburning in a way that's like eating the least favourite food on ur dish and finally savouring ur favourite part for last ykwim??? EXCEPTIONAL WORK.

Boothill beams and it just serves to confuse your internal scale even more. One would think you’re suddenly inorganic with how it feels like you’re short-circuiting. Is this an acute onset of cardiac arrest? Or is it something else you’ve been pushing away for months on end? He nudges you back. “I knew you’d come around! And the first lesson of being a Galaxy Ranger,” he starts, “is to always get your hopes up.” Yeah… it’s definitely something else entirely. Something that, in all likelihood, is going to get you into massive trouble. You understand the risks that come with fraternizing with an outlaw, have weighed them heavily against your heart, and have reached only one verdict: You’ll sleep on it.

@tragedy-of-commons : call to action.

everyday i wake up with a headache because it physically HURTS me to see how underrated you are. ILL DO IT IF I HAVE TO SET UP A SHRINE IN YOUR HONOUR. ily gwennie pls never stop writing.

You would rather that the Xianzhou citizens know him as "The Dozing General" instead of the general that gets scammed a few times too many. How does one even go on about trying to tell their husband that the grimalkin in his arms is actually a lion? "A fitting name indeed," you mutter, raising a hand to caress Jing Yuan's cheek, a simple gesture to make the general direct his attention to you. However, you could still see that his guard was slightly up with you. You only chuckle at that, leaning in to slide your lips over his own, Jing Yuan wasting no time to press back. Another well hidden secret reserved for the walls of the Divine Foresight is the fact your husband is incredibly weak for his own spouse.

@generalsmemories : how do i tell my husband he got scammed into buying a lion.

^ who i go to when i'm deprived and in need of jing yuan content. literally one of my biggest inspos for writing, jy just feels so real in your fics. fr has me licking my plate n begging for more crumbs.

and many many more authors YOU'RE ALL AMAZING!!!! incld my other mooties too —THANK YOU FOR PUTTING YOUR HANDS ON THE KEYBOARD, PRESSING THE KEYS, AND SAVING MY LIFE WHEN YOU PRESS POST NOW.

[fedoraspooky]

In light of tumblr shooting itself in the foot, I've been thinking about what I should do with my art from now on. Obviously, deleting my old posts off here isn't gonna do shit, it's essentially locking my door after my house got emptied out by burglars. Especially with my old rp account I no longer can log into, they're just gonna steal and sell my old art that I posted there and I can't even flip a questionably-affective toggle about it.

Thing is, I dunno how many people are gonna actually leave. I'm not even sure I will, since I have a lot of friends here... And after so many shitty updates a lot of people are just hanging on out of spite at this point.

That said, I'm considering that for art posts and stuff, maybe I'll post them elsewhere and just link to them here so they're not on tumblr's servers? Idk... Tumblr tends to kill the visibility of links but I'm not really sure what else I can do.

Also, there's the question of where to actually post new stuff. Bluesky seems the most active but I dont know if old posts cut off after a certain amount of posts like twitter does, in which case that would not be a good archive in the long run. xnx

Cohost is functionally pretty close to tumblr, but ngl it seems super isolated on there bc of its commitment to not showing any likes on your posts. I get that its to combat the social media numbers game, but the downside is that it looks like nobody's even seen your work. If people like something of yours there's no way outside of notifs to see it, so scrolling down on your page and seeing only zeros after zeros of comments on stuff (comments are the only visible number), it's easy to feel like you're just posting into a void.

Pillowfort is pretty good, and they just added tag blocking and the ability to queue/schedule posts. Still kinda quiet and invite only, but if you sign up for the invite queue you can get one pretty fast. Also i probaby have a ton of invites sitting around if anyone wants one. I wish it had an app, but mobile web version works well enough I guess, and I'm already used to doing that with sheezy and newgrounds, so I just have those open in mobile tabs together.

Speaking of, Newgrounds has been pretty good, but due to the nature of the portal system and stuff you're more encouraged to post only your better-looking stuff there. You CAN post doodles if you want, but only outside of the portal, which limits their visibility. Kinda like dA's scraps system I guess.

Sheezy looks super promising customization-wise so I'm thinking of posting there more when it opens up to more peeps.

Toyhouse also looks really good for OC and story things too, and also has a good degree of customization.

There's probs options I haven't even thought about, but its good to know there ARE options. I may post in several of those places for now and see how it goes. Test the waters a bit.

If you're thinking of moving your art elsewhere lemme know where, I'm curious to see where people are going :o

Especially you moots, i need to refind my pals in these other places!

[jaimemes]

What could really even justify you doxxing everyone anyways? You seem to have some reason tell yourself it's fine, but... what even is that?

ho boy. okay last night i was going fuckin Thru It but im slightly more mentally stable this morning. i tend to get worse the later in the day it gets. tbh i should start tagging my mentally ill ramblings cuz yall ask these kinda questions a lot (which honestly doesnt really. help my delusions. but yadda yadda audience retention and engagement)

first of all, lemme get this out of the way: im not trying to justify what i do. i know its shitty. i know im shitty. im not gonna pretend im the Good Guy here, im just not quite the Bad Guy either. not everything is black and white.

its not an excuse, its an explanation.

anyways. back to the question. ill put this under the cut because this might get pretty unreality-heavy very quickly. and also i realized halfway thru that this was getting kinda long

look at it from my perspective— be incredibly mentally ill with me for a moment here. you believe yourself to be a part of a narrative. you dont know what kind. you dont know the genre, you dont know the story, you dont know what role you play or the role that your friends play. but you know that you are all part of the narrative in some way.

you know how stories tend to go: the plot is often driven by factors outside of your control— be it by someone else’s hand (ex: the villain burns your village down, there’s a killer at Camp Crystal Lake, two people get in an argument, etc) or by the whims of the universe (ex: a tornado rips through your town, you get diagnosed with a terminal illness, you find a golden ticket in your chocolate bar, etc) but nevertheless the story always starts because of a impending or unexpected change.

keywords impending or unexpected.

the characters dont expect it because they dont have all the information. they arent omniscient or genre-aware. they dont know whats happening with the other characters, they dont know the complexities of one another and how they are a product of their circumstances. they arent looking for literary devices in their own narrative because they dont know they’re in a narrative in the first place.

but you do. you’re a self-aware character. you believe youre in a narrative. and because you’re aware that you’re in a narrative, you are placed in a unique position: you can try to predict the narrative. its like watching a TV show. the characters only have one perspective, but the audience has everyone’s perspective— the complete narrative.

but of course, as part of the narrative, you arent the audience, are you?

but if you watch everyone around you, if you gather as much background information as possible, you can become as close to being a part of the audience as a character can be. you can have all the information necessary to make those predictions. and maybe, just maybe, you can predict the direction the narrative is headed before it happens. you cant be caught off guard if you know everything you need to predict the twists.

(hell, i think im in the midst of finding a twist right now. but i need more time to figure out all the pieces before i make any predictions. plus, a good narrator never outright reveals the twist to the audience before it happens. im the one with the stakes here, not you. but i digress, ive gotten off-topic.)

but there’s a glaring issue in your plan: because you’re a part of the narrative, you can’t exactly change it, can you? sure, you can TRY to stop it, but if you try, is that really you stopping the narrative? or did you just play right into its hands? did you change the story or was the story always written that way? you wouldn’t know: you’re a part of the story, aren’t you?

but the audience isn’t.

and this is where you can stop being mentally ill with me and step out of my shoes again (chances are my shoes are too small for ur feet anyways lmao)

this is where you— yes, you reading this— come in. because you are the audience here. you are MY audience. you’re completely removed of the narrative i believe myself to be trapped in. you’re on the outside looking in.

i believe myself to be in the unique position of being a character that can interact with their audience. and while i may not be able to change the story from the inside, maybe, if i interact with the audience, we can influence it from the outside. i just need to retain the audience enough to generate engagement with the story.

and what better way to generate audience retention than by giving them the information they need to predict the story in a way i as a character probably never could?

dear viewers, do you know what that’s called?

that’s called being a narrator.

but like i said before, a good narrator never outright reveals the twist to the audience before it happens, do they?

and an interesting narrator is an unreliable one.

…

anyways! wow that did not help my mental health. this is gonna be a hell of a day. so much for being mentally stable this morning lmao

but yeah. look. theres a reason i used language like “you believe” and “i believe” and “i may”. im aware that i suffer from delusions and paranoia. im aware that i am horrifically mentally ill. im aware that this all sounds completely inane. im not trying to say that this is the definitive truth of the universe. this is just my belief.

you may not be a part of a narrative. you dont even have to believe IM a part of a narrative.

but i believe myself to be.

[time-for-opinions]

mermaid me? 👉👈 i'm BIASED she's ME

AND SHE'S MY DARLINGEST DEAR I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT

oooh okay lemme think what haven't I told you

oh! okay, small moment, if I think of anything else I'll either tag you or dm you

(angst)

post tlo throne room scene - in this au, zeus offers to lift the banishment and let him be immortal alongside his father, something that has been baby percys goal for five books

and then he has it. and you know what he does? he goes "nope. child support please."

except this time he can't bear to see the faces of his mom and dad, staring at him as if they're seeing him die right then right now

zeus is staring and he's like "...sure cool but I'm not giving you a get out of banishment free card as a freebie, you know that, yeah?"

and then. post post post. he's out. he's avoiding everyone. BUT. he's on the beach. something that would normally get him atleast some warning thunder up there - but it's silent.

pity, perhaps.

and you, yes, YOU, show up from the waves.

mermaid Abby looks - devastated, would be the word.

something something

"I heard."

"you did?"

"yes. Poseidon is ignoring you. Sally is locked in her chambers. Amphitrite and Triton are either destroying a reef, or hatching a plan to kidnap you. everyone's pissed."

"...and you? what, are you here to stab me, or something?"

Abby (can I refer to her as that? what should I refer to her as?) stares, and then whacks Percy, gently, softly, sadly, with a rolled up magazine.

(it's a swords catalogue. Percy and her used to gush over this back then, looking forward to ordering new weapons - with poseidon's money, to extend the royal armory, of course.)

percy sobs, a choked out, suppressed sound.

"I'm sorry. But - I couldn't, and Luke, everyone, they all-"

"Shush. It's okay. I get it. It's okay."

"you can't be here. you won't be able to see me again, not properly. you're not allowed. we'll never - we'll never be siblings again, I ruined it, I'm sorry-"

"we'll be siblings whether the sun rises in the west, or Gaia makes up with Ouranos. nothing changes that. don't you dare say that."

she pulls him closer, and hugs him.

she's still taller than him, maybe not as much as she used to be, but it's almost like old times.

they hold each other for the longest time they have since the banishment. thunder doesn't rumble, for once.

that's how the first fic would end. him, curled against his big sister, both of you muffling your sobs against the other. staring at a sun, that seems to set endlessly.

____

yeah that's that, but I promise I give you so much fluff before and after this, and it's happy, I promise!

I have another idea surrounding you too, cooler, I'll post that too tonight, it shalt be FLOOF (somewhat)

[hawkeish]

thank you to @another-rogue-trevelyan for tagging me!! I’m working on the fourth chapter of my rookanis fic and it’s kicking me up the arse, but here’s a very out-of-context snippet that will make absolutely no sense:

“No, no, no, no, no—”

“Calm down, kid. This your first bar fight?”

“Calm?” A shrill shriek of a laugh. “You want me to be calm? I can’t lose my position and—and Ingellvar—Rook—is she—oh, fuck, there are people in there who I set on fire—”

Retching.

“Ah, now this takes me back!” A warm chuckle. “Harding, did I ever tell you about the first time Daisy bottled someone—”

“Not sure this is the time!” someone—much more feminine—breaks in. Then, softer: “That’s right. Deep breaths. There you go—oh.” More retching, punctuated by half-sobs, then the thuds of pats on the back. “Well, better out than in, as my ma says! I can clean my boots later.”

Varric.

The word pulls at a loose yarn in the jumbled knots of Orrenrook’s rattled brain. She knows Varric. No. Knows of a Varric, maybe.

“Venatori weren’t in the plan.” A low murmur—the man. The voices are louder than they were, drowning out the sounds of vomiting.“Neither was a bar fight. Or a half-drunk mortalitasi who’s just violated one of his culture’s most venerated beliefs.”

Mortalitasi. Rook knows that word, too. She likes how it sounds. It makes her think home.

“Venatori should always be in the plan,” the woman replies, sighing. “And we should be more used to bar fights by now. Wherever you go, Kirkwall’s je ne sais quoi follows. Which always means blood magic. And bar fights.”

An exaggerated, tongue-cluck of a tut. “Labelling it Evil Mage City is one thing, Harding, but using Orlesian to describe it? You wound me. Speaking of wounds, we should maybe be more careful that our Watcher here doesn’t bleed out. Especially not here. Propping her up on the vhenadahl as she succumbs to head trauma inflicted by a racist Tevinter fanatic feels a little tone-deaf, Harding—”

Vhenadahl.

Whatever else is said, Orrenrook doesn’t hear it. Consciousness begins to slip from her grasp once more, unspooling like twine, and as she falls into darkness she is thinking of the vhenadahl, of standing beneath it with Porphyria in a cool Nevarran downpour, of how she will never feel the warmth of her not-quite-mother’s hand again.

tagging @canavaris , @rookinthecrownest, @katuary, @librivore42, @aymayzing and anyone else who fancies it! (if you want to be tagged by me for writing stuff, please lemme know!)

[fairy-writes]

Vampire!Viktor x Female!Reader  03

part one of vampire!viktor HERE

part two of vampire!viktor HERE

all parts of this series are tagged under cryptid!viktor

cryptid!viktor also includes my pieces with merman!viktor

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @aikoiya​

lemme know how long you guys think this miniseries should be cuz i have absolutely no clue :)

(catch my doctor who quotes, lol)

Trigger Warning(s): strangulation, blood, and mentions of suicide

viktor scares you six months into what you could call a tentative friendship.

the mansion is immaculate when you enter that night. courtesy of your constant hard work. viktor does little for the upkeep, leaving it to you to clean and keep the estate in a better condition than you found it. 

because like you had told him before—no one deserved to live like he did. 

little did you know that those words had a profound effect on the vampire. 

you heave the large front door open, listening to the silence of the hinges that squeal no more. viktor isn’t waiting for you at the top of the stairs as he normally is. waiting for you to talk to him while he simply doesn’t reply. he never really did unless it was about his work. so you made it a habit to ask him about it. 

if nothing else, to make sure he didn’t feel lonely.

viktor is in his study when you find him. he’s hunched over one of his two desks, his head in his hands, and he’s shaking. that in and of itself makes you frown. is he okay?

“viktor?” you ask, and he winces,

“leave now,” he says—almost growls—and you flinch at the dark tone in his voice. 

what was going on? you try asking him as much, and he just reiterates what he said before.

“leave now. before i hurt you.” he snaps, whirling to look at you, and you take a step back.

his eyes are black. 

sclera, iris, and all. 

it’s a pit of despair that is filled with fear, and anger, and hunger. 

“viktor…?” you whisper, and things go terribly wrong. 

there’s a flash of brown, and you’re flung against the wall with a hand at your throat and a vision filled with those hungry black eyes. his mouth is twisted in a snarl, and his sharpened incisors are your main focus in the dim candlelight. 

was he finally going to kill you? 

had he broken down and decided you were a nuisance that he needed to get rid of?

were you going to die here?

your hands scramble to get in between his hand and your throat to give you some air as you were choking. your vision was going dark, swimming in circles in a mix of brown and gold and warm tones from the candles and lamps. 

that was when you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks, the bony vertebrae of his spine poking through the back of his vest and shirt, and the knobbiness of his elbows. his slim fingers still grip the column of your throat with supernatural strength… but his fingers are trembling.

a thought dawns on you as you spot the darkened veins coming through his pallid skin.

“you’re hungry,” you choke out, and he stiffens, something coming through the darkness of starvation. 

realization. 

abruptly, he lets go, and you slide to your knees, skirts billowing around you as you cough and gasp for deep lungfuls of air. you know for a fact that you’ll have bruises. you can already feel it swelling when you touch the tender skin. 

but that doesn’t matter. you’re worried about viktor. 

you look to the vampire to see him clutching the sides of his head, teeth grinding back and forth as he lets out a quiet whine. 

and that sound broke your heart. 

“how can i help?” you say, voice rough from the strangulation. he scoots away as you get closer, falling onto his side in his haste.

“stay away.” he tries, and you shake your head, making it to his side and gently prying his hands away from his hair. 

they come away bloody, bits of flesh stuck underneath his nails from how hard he was digging them into his skull. 

“i’ll hurt you. i already have.” he whimpers, and you offer him what you hope is a warm smile. 

“you’d never hurt me. i trust you with that,” you whisper and make up your mind. 

he was your friend. you didn’t want to see him in pain. 

you hold out your wrist and roll up the sleeve of your dress. his black eyes latch onto the sight of the exposed skin, and you can practically see him drooling before he wrenches his eyes away and shoves his hand over his mouth. it only succeeds in smearing blood all over his lips. 

“drink.” you implore, and he shakes his head,

“i can’t.” he croaks, but you can see the gears in his head turning. 

how much could he take to help himself? 

would he hurt you if he did?

could he have this?

“you can have this. don’t torture yourself. i consent to let you drink my blood. please, viktor. i don’t want you to die.” you beg, getting desperate as you don’t want what was your only friend to waste away.

those words turn out to be a mistake. 

viktor bared his fangs; blood smudged his teeth from his hand. 

“death would be a gift,” he growled, and you flinched away.

did he want to die?

he wasn’t going to starve himself to death as a way of suicide, was he?

“viktor, please, just drink,” you say, ignoring his comment, and practically shove your forearm under his nose. he turns to look at you one last time before taking your arm in his hands. 

they’re inexplicably gentle. not at all like his grip from earlier. 

his incisors don’t hurt as they pierce your skin. was there some kind of venom to numb the pain? you sit patiently, a bit dazed, as your blood leaves your body. all the while, viktor is silent, no slurping or gulping. just the gentle caress of his mouth on your skin. 

eventually, the sucking feeling stops, and he lets go with a gasp. he had told you once that he didn’t need to breathe and only did so to keep some semblance of humanity. 

you watch in astonishment as his body changes. his skin turns to its regular tone, and his shoulders visibly fill out before your eyes. soon, he looks healthy. he looks good, handsome even. not sickly and deathly pale as he normally did. 

had he been starving all this time?

viktor hunches over his knees for a moment, breathing heavily as he swallows the blood. then, he speaks. 

“thank you,” he says softly, and you place a hand on his shoulder. he still flinches away but then leans into the touch. as if not used to the feeling but craving it nonetheless. 

was he touch-starved?

most likely, especially after living alone for who knows how long. 

“are you okay?” you say, and he pauses before nodding,

“i am now.” is all he says before getting to his feet. he wobbles once, twice, before righting himself and hobbling to his desk where his cane was leaning against the table. he grips it with steady hands and leans his full weight against it. 

you get to your feet and approach the man. he shies away briefly, but he lets you touch his hand when you persist. it’s warm, not cold as it usually was, as a result of your blood coursing through his system. it was a strange feeling. you were used to being the only warm creature in the entire estate, save for the vermin and other small animals. 

it felt… nice.