#Add if you know anything else that fits here

[koobiie]

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*

[mamayura]

Official episode names of season 6 + my speculations based on their names:

Climatiqueen: seems self-explanatory. Hopefully Aurore gets to finally matter again. Would be fitting that the akuma that started it all gets to ring in the new story arc

Dessinatriste: Dessinateur means designer or illustrator, and Dessinatrice is the female form. So I think it's more likely a female character.

Sublimation: is the process of anything solid turning into gas without first becoming liquid. I've got no clue in this one. Btw, I checked, and no, Sublimation is not the name of one of the season 5 episodes.

Daddycop: Maybe a reference to Robocop? Possibly a Sabrina episode.

Papys Garous: loups-garous are werewolves in French. So probably a continuation of season 3's Papa Garou (Weredad) with Ronald instead because Papi is French for Grandpa (and Papa is Dad)

Princesse Syren: First instinct is going with a continuation of season 2's Syren, so an Odine and Kim episode.

El Toro De Piedra: El Toro is Spanish for "The Bull" and Piedra is "Stone", so The Bull of Stone / The Stone Bull. Definitely a Spanish character.

Vampigami: Im pretty sure there is no other French word "Vampi" could be referring to besides vampires. But I wouldn't necessarily say it refers to Kagami. We thought the same about Optigami, too, and the it referred to origami. Who knows, maybe it's also the word "Pig" and "ami" (French for friend) we were supposed to pick up on? Maybe something with Rose? Her French hero name is Pigella too?

Monsieur Agreste: probably a continuation from "Gabriel Agreste" and lively further backstory.

Le Château Noir: considering that Monsieur Agreste and Le Château Noir are episodes 9 and 10, and therefore an episode pair, it's possible that the Noir part is referring to Adrichat. But in French Darkblade was named Le Chevalier Noir and Dark Owl is named Le Hibou Noir. So the new episode being names The black/dark Castle doesn't need to necessarily refer to Adrichat.

Revelator: im gonna go with continuation of Cerise's season 5 episode "Revelation"

Psyconductrice: Psyco likely has the same meaning as it had with Psycomedian. Conductrice seems to be some kind of female driver of a transportation machine.

Yaksi Gozen: Definitely a Tomoe episode. Her first form was Ikari Gozen and then Ikari Dozen. Though I'm not sure what exactly Yaksi is supposed to refer to. Gozen means Lady as far as I know. Tomoe's name is a reference to a Japanese legend of a female warrior named Tomoe Gozen (Lady Tomoe). Ikari means rage. But all I kind find for Yaksi is a Buddhist goddess. Not unlikely since the Miraculous are supposed to be from China, but maybe I'm just missing something here?

Couchorak: not gonna lie, I'm lost on this one.

La Redresseuse: hmmm. Le redresseur is "rectifier" in French. So something with electricity and its definitely a female character.

Noe: I've got no idea.

La Fée De Beaux Rêves: The fairy of beautiful dreams. Maybe we get some backstory on Marinette's Knitting Fairy childhood dream? Or something else connecting to the childhood dream theme going on?

Les Cassetastrophes: Cassettes now mostly are connected to video tapes, right? And the name uses plural for whoever those catastrophes are. Maybe backstory on André's movie with Emilie and Tomoe? Cause in season 4, we saw that Tomoe was apparently of it too when she was younger and she looked exactly like Kagami

Riginarazione: hmm. I think another episode diving into Cerise's character. Razione is a (food) portion, and Rigi is a famous mountain in Switzerland that's called the Queen of mountains. In Italien, Queen in regina. Combining Rigi and Regina you get Rigina and then you add razione. Cause Lila was Cerise's Italien identity and I'm pretty sure that in the story board version of the season 5 Cerise in the end applied for school in an identity from Switzerland.

Renverse-cœurs: I think here renverse (NOT reverse) means something like fallen? So fallen hearts? Love square, you good?

Les Titans Chaînes: the titan chains? That sounds ominous

Lady Chaos: let's prey we'll finally get a fucking Ladybug akuma. Still think they wasted the name Miracle Queen, but Lady Chaos would fit well too.

Tristanansi: probably Alya's big sister being reakumatized into Anansi, and of course the Triste part meaning sad. So Alya episode.

La Reine de Frayeurville: The Queen of + ville means town/ city and frayeur means fright (and similar words). So the Queen of Frighttown? A Halloween episode?

Protocole Secret: im pretty sure that's self-explanatory.

And, Nemesis: not just a word for someone's arch-enemy, but also the name of the Greek Goddess of Retribution.

[dazai-is-a-sweet-bean]

[gaypiratepropaganda]

Izzy's apology in the finale seems to have taken some people by surprise. During the break between seasons, I tried a few times to politely bring up the fact that Izzy was technically abusing Ed. Not because I wanted anyone to stop liking him (you can like a character who's doing abuse! it's not real. who cares), but because I was worried about the reaction when season two came out. I love this show very much and I know how tumblr can get. Most importantly, I love fucked up fictional relationships and cannot abide people making these two boring. So here we go. (I also love lists)

First. Emotional abuse can occur in intimate relationships, family relationships like father and son, or in the workplace (Ed/Izzy triple threat!). Second, it has to be an ongoing thing. Someone doing one of these things once is not abuse. Abuse is a pattern of cruel and frightening behavior in order to control the victim.

(Don't feel bad if you didn't notice this stuff! It's relatively subtle and we're kind of trained to ignore and forgive it, especially from characters like Izzy. I wasn't 100% sure I was right about this either until season two confirmed it. I think a lot of people don't even know what emotional abuse is, at least where I live.)

Below are some pretty solid warning signs (this said "criteria" before but I changed it to be more accurate) for emotional abuse, followed by examples:

•Monitoring and controlling a person’s behavior, such as who they spend time with or how they spend money.

One of Izzy's main motivations in season one was trying to force Ed to act more like his image of Blackbeard. To achieve that, he bullied, belittled, and threatened Ed. He attempted to kill Stede because Ed was spending too much time with him and he felt that Stede was a bad influence.

• Threats to a person’s safety, property, or loved ones

He tried to kill Stede (Ed's loved one) or get him killed several times. Once trying to get Ed to do it himself with the doggy heaven situation, once directly with the duel, and once by calling in the navy.

He didn't directly threaten Ed's safety until episode ten, but he did seem to have Ed convinced that the crew would kill him if Izzy wasn't there to protect him and then when Ed did things he didn't like, Izzy threatened to leave. It's indirect, but has the same result: Ed felt he was unsafe unless he did what Izzy wanted.

• Isolating a person from family, friends, and acquaintances

Izzy seemed to keep Ed isolated from the crew, act as a go-between, and control their perceptions of each other to a certain extent. In the first few episodes, Ed was always shown alone in his goth cabin with Izzy as his only contact. When he started to make new friends Izzy tried to make him kill them.

After Izzy was banished, he secretly sent Ed's ex in to manipulate him and get him away from his new community. Then he got them all arrested, culminating in the deal he made with the English that would have made Ed his prisoner. Not sure that was on purpose, but it was so fucked up I had to mention it.

The bit that really got me, for some reason, was when Frenchie asked after Ed and Izzy told the crew he was sick.

• Demeaning, shaming, or humiliating a person

Izzy is often shown berating Ed and yelling at him. The way Ed reacts suggests to me that he may be used to this kind of treatment from people in general, or from Izzy in particular. He never leaves or asks him to stop, he just takes it.

• Extreme jealousy, accusations, and paranoia

He was so jealous of Ed's relationship with Stede that he got the literal military involved. His explanation to for why Ed enjoys spending time with Stede was that he has "done something to [Ed's] brain." Like, what magic powers do you think he has, Izzy?

• Making acceptance or care conditional on a person’s choices

Izzy made it very clear that he would only support Ed if he conformed to the Blackbeard persona. He also seemed to have Ed convinced that there was no way he could survive without Izzy's support.

I just realized that if you subscribe to the headcanon that Izzy acts as a sort of caretaker to Ed (I do not) then all of this is way more fucked up.

• Constant criticism, ridicule, or teasing.

In season one he criticized everything Ed did, all his plans, even while telling him to come up with more plans. He ridiculed Ed and called him names pretty often: "twat, namby-pamby, insane." Even in season two when he's doing better, most of their interactions consist of Izzy teasing and making fun of Ed for being mopey or in love.

• Refusing to allow a person to spend time alone

I didn't think of this until now, but Izzy is often around when Ed thinks he's alone. He knows about things that happen in scenes he isn't in. Izzy's always sort of lurking, though? And he does it to everyone. So I'm not sure if we should count this one.

• Thwarting a person’s professional or personal goals

He's ok about piracy related goals, but as soon as Ed tried to do something other than that he got so weird about it. "This crew is so talented, why are we even being pirates?" is what got Izzy to threaten Ed. Which is interesting because he was fine with the retirement idea before, when he thought he'd get to be captain.

• Instilling feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness 

"insane unpleasant shell of a man merely posing as blackbeard." "I should have let the English kill you. This... whatever it is you've become is a fate worse than death."

• Gaslighting: making a person question their competence and even their basic perceptual experiences.

He called Ed insane and implied that the crew would mutiny if he wasn't there to stop them. This is clearly untrue, as we were already shown that his method of "massaging the crew" consisted of calling Ed half insane and pulling Fang's beard even though Fang hates that. The fact that he calls Ed insane more than once while at the same time trying to get him to act more insane seems like basic gaslighting to me. Then again, Izzy's definition of "insanity" may be like, depression, crying, showing emotions, loneliness, and enjoying softness.

[can't find a gif of this so just imagine Ed in the gravy basket with Hornigold saying "you're worried you're insane."]

Something that wasn't on this specific list but is generally considered part of emotional abuse is manipulation: the use of indirect tactics to change someone's thoughts, feelings, or behaviors in an attempt to influence them for personal gain.

I think Izzy often tries to be manipulative. He's not the greatest at it, but it's the thought that counts. He manages to be surprisingly successful through persistence and repetition.

He's got Ed convinced from the first time we see them that he is useless as a captain without Izzy. That's why Ed feels like he needs him. He tells him that the only thing standing between Ed and a crew constantly on the brink of mutiny is Izzy. Then he tells him that he will leave if he can't live up to his expectations.

He has a pattern of lying to Ed or not telling him the whole truth. He threatens him directly and indirectly in an attempt to influence him and control his behavior. He wants power, whether he gets it by becoming a captain when Ed retires or by making sure Ed remains powerful by any means necessary.

this is what he was apologizing for, along with the years of being terrible to Ed before Stede came into the picture. I never expected him to admit it so clearly like that. He fed Ed's "darkness," poked at his trauma for so long because he needed Blackbeard. It was something they did together, and he enjoyed Blackbeard's dominance and cruelty.

Of course there are other things that can be part of this kind of abuse, like infantilization, silence, and harassment. There are more examples of abusive behavior from Izzy at the start of season two, especially in the scene where Ed's asking Izzy to kill him. but I am not ready to get into that right now.

Anyway, Ed and Izzy's storylines in season two only make sense to me with this in mind. Ed is recovering from not only the suicide attempts but also this fucked up situation he was in, whether he realizes it or not. Izzy learns to stop being such a shitboy and admits he was wrong. ~growth~

if you interpret their relationship differently that's obviously fine. but I think this is the most interesting interpretation, as well as what was intended. It's no fun for me when people make them both equally awful to each other. I like it better as it is in the show: Ed fighting back against Izzy's emotional abuse with physical violence, which only ends up traumatizing him further. It's such a unique and fascinating story.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Having F/Os with popular voice actors/actors is so funny sometimes cause like. Jackson Storm what are you doing here this is a western

[medicinemane]

Never think that I've stopped talking about Ukraine or that I've forgotten

I follow things every day, every day hoping for some kind of miracle that means the fighting is over, russia will leave every inch of Ukrainian soil, no more bombings... but... I know it's probably some time off... I'm not stupid, I just hope people can stop dying

I follow it every day, hear all the horrible news, keep up to date with things like the Kursk counteroffensive where Ukraine has taken a great deal of russian territory (which shows russia has no red lines)

I just don't share most of what I see on here because I don't want people to get fatigued... there's so many horrible things going on in the world, I don't want to burn people out

I'd rather someone be active and able to do a little than having to just turn off and disengage with everything to avoid losing it

All I ask is that you support Ukraine, they're just trying to exist. Just trying to live normal lives. I just hope you can support the "no civilians deserve to be bombed" platform, and say they don't deserve to be bombed by russia

If you've ever got any questions, it's not like I'm an expert, it's not like I'm living it, but I do follow things every day and it often seems like I know stuff other westerners haven't hear about... so ask away

Anyway, just never think that just cause it's been a bit since I mentioned Ukraine that they're not still on my mind

You hear less for your sake, but I keep coming back every day, and even I don't remotely see the true scale and horror of it, only snippets of... photos, videos, stories people share online

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

[jobean12-blog]

Boom Clap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,063

Summary: Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.

Author's Note: Just because, I love him and this look ends me every time and it's lightly based on this song Boom Clap by Charli XCX. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you 🥰

Warnings: it's just Bucky being irresistible and soft too

“Well, something clearly more interesting than this conversation is going on in your mind. Would you like to share it with the rest of us?”

Two pairs of glittering eyes stare at you, twin knowing smiles gracing your friend’s lips and you frantically try to recall what the three of you had been discussing.

“There’s only one thing that can be giving her that look,” Nat laughs. “A man.”

“And not just any,” Wanda adds.

“Bucky,” both women say simultaneously and with devious grins.

You sip your drink to hide your smile.

“You must miss him since he’s been away on the mission all week,” Wanda muses.

You don’t say it but you do miss him. A lot.

“So what exactly is going on with you two?” Nat asks

With a nonchalant shrug you sip your drink again and try to figure out how to label your relationship with Bucky. Your friends wait, expressions expectant but playful.

If you had a definitive answer you would share it but ever since the two of you started hanging out neither of you had given it a label. You were just enjoying each other. In every way. You were happy being with him, that much of which you were sure.

“Umm…” you start.

That’s the only word you get out before you see Wanda and Nat’s drinks pause halfway to their mouths. Their eyes are trained on something just beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the bar.

Several other women at the bar pause their own conversation and you sense the shift in energy.

He’s here.

You place your drink down on the bar and turn. Bucky stands just inside the doorway, his black jacket draped over his broad shoulders and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

Awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. Your pulse quickens and you fight the urge to run into his arms.

He wears all black, from his tight fitted shirt down to his leather boots and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair. When he walks toward you at the bar, he moves with such sensual purpose that you notice another woman swooning.

He looks hungry and determined.

And he’s here for you.

You reach out and grab your drink, downing it in one long sip.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, then your palm, then finally, your fingertips.

This time, you hear the breath woosh from Nat and Wanda but Bucky shows no reaction, appearing oblivious to anything else but you.

“Guess he’s back,” Nat whispers to Wanda. You barely catch the words as Bucky consumes your every thought.

“I missed you doll,” he whispers against your wrist.

“I missed you too,” you reply breathlessly.

He lowers your hand from his mouth and keeps hold of it between your bodies. With a soft tug he brings you closer, leaning into your neck and whispering along the shell of your ear.

“Come home with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you murmur.

“Yes, I do doll. I would never take you for granted.”

Your free hand slides up his chest to his jaw, tracing the outline before you softly press your lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathes you in.

“I’m just going to use the restroom and say goodbye to Nat and Wanda. Meet you back here in five.”

“Hurry,” he murmurs, letting his eyes sparkle with words of unspoken want.

You rush off toward the bathroom, Nat and Wanda right behind you and after relieving yourself and filling your friends in you search for Bucky’s tall figure.

You find him standing at the bar, taking to someone. As you get closer, you see that the woman is standing close enough to brush against him. Unable to see Bucky’s face, you watch as she runs a hand along his arm with a gentle squeeze of his bicep, smiling at him flirtatiously.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you feel your eyes well with unshed tears but you can’t stop your forward movement. Bucky’s face comes into view. His eyes aren’t on the woman but furiously scanning the room. He looks uncomfortable, backing away from her and saying something you can’t hear.

You consider turning and running out but that wouldn’t be fair. You and Bucky have no official label, have never agreed to be exclusive. You can’t even blame the other woman for approaching him. He’s impossible to resist. You should know.

But then his eyes meet yours and you see all the emotions rushing through them, but mostly you see relief.

Taking a deep breath, you continue to walk forward. Bucky holds his arm out, his eyes begging you to walk into his embrace.

You slide into his side in time to hear him say, “here she is. This is my…”

“Girlfriend,” you finish, smiling and extending your hand with your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“Wow, lucky girl,” the woman says as she shakes your hand. “You deserve an award for landing a man like this.”

“I don’t need an award. I’ve got him,” you say as you reach down and take his left hand in yours.

Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Ready to take me home Buck?”

“Always doll.”

Your hand stays tightly tucked in Bucky’s as you walk down the street toward his apartment. You turn toward him, the warm breeze caressing your skin and the city lights dancing in your eyes. His breath catches in his throat as your lips spread into a wide and reassuring smile.

He stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls you flush against his chest, his eyes wandering over your face.

“Are you really mine?” he asks as he dips his head. “You’re really my girl?”

“Yours Bucky. I have been from the beginning.”

His fingers spread across your lower back and he slowly drags his hand along the curve of your spine, every inch he covers pressing you closer against him until he reaches your neck and traces the delicate column before cradling your cheek.

He sweeps his thumb along your skin and holds your lips just centimeters from his, whispering, “mine,” as his eyes close and his mouth captures yours.

@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[littlelamy]

untitled

drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader

a/n: the fashion show last night was underwhelming to be honest. i wish they dedicated more money and time on the lingerie and wings rather than having high profile models. but i did enjoy seeing tyla, lisa, bella, jasmine, adrianna and so many others; they looked amazing!!

the backstage chaos hums around you—makeup artists rushing, models adjusting their wings, designers shouting last-minute adjustments—but all you can focus on is the gnawing anxiety building in your chest. your heart feels like it’s pounding out of your ribcage, palms damp with sweat as you fidget with the intricate straps of the lingerie you’re supposed to wear. the excitement that had carried you through rehearsals, fittings, and sleepless nights now feels like a distant memory, swallowed by a crippling sense of doubt.

“what if i trip? or my walk looks awkward?” you whisper under your breath, eyes darting toward the stage where the show is already underway. each model that struts down the runway with effortless grace only seems to magnify your insecurity.

before you can spiral further, you feel a hand—warm, steady—gently squeeze your shoulder. you turn to see drew, standing just behind you, his brow furrowed in concern but his eyes soft, deeply grounding. he doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you aside from the noise and chaos, into a quiet corner.

“hey,�� he says softly, his voice low and reassuring, cutting through the frantic energy around you. “look at me.”

you hesitate for a moment, still caught up in your head, but you eventually meet his gaze. his expression is serious, but there’s something else there too—an understanding that goes deeper than surface-level comfort.

“you’re freaking out, huh?” he asks, but it’s not condescending. there’s a knowing warmth in his tone, like he’s seen you unravel like this before, and it’s never phased him.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, barely above a whisper, your voice strained with vulnerability. “all these other girls have done this a million times, and i—”

“you’re not them,” he cuts in gently but firmly. “you’re you. that’s why you’re here. no one else brings what you bring.”

you shake your head, still not fully convinced. “but what if i mess up? what if i make a fool of myself in front of everyone?”

he steps closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly along your jawline, forcing you to stay anchored in the moment with him. “listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, more intense now. “you’ve worked your ass off for this. this isn’t some random opportunity that fell into your lap. they picked you because you’ve got something none of those other girls do. it’s not just about being pretty or walking in a straight line. it’s about the energy you bring, the way you make people feel when they watch you.”

you close your eyes for a second, trying to let his words seep into the cracks of your insecurity. but the doubts are still there, lingering like shadows.

“drew, what if i freeze? what if—”

“then you freeze, and you keep going,” he says, his tone steady, unyielding. “but i don’t think that’s going to happen. because you don’t give up. i’ve seen you face way bigger things than this, and you never back down. so why would you start now?”

his words hit harder than you expect, a mixture of challenge and belief that makes your heart clench. he’s not just offering hollow reassurances—he’s reminding you of your strength, of who you are when you’re not wrapped up in fear.

“and besides,” he adds, a softer note creeping back into his voice, “i’ll be out there, right in the front row. the second you step on that stage, i’ll be looking right at you, reminding you of exactly how badass you are.”

a laugh escapes you, despite yourself, the tension breaking slightly. “you always know what to say.”

he grins, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your forehead. “because i know you. better than anyone. and i know you’re about to blow everyone away.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, tucked away in this corner, away from the lights and cameras and expectations. drew’s hands drop from your face, but he keeps one hand on your waist, his thumb tracing calming circles against your skin.

“you’ve got this,” he says, quieter now, almost like he’s speaking directly to your soul. “and if you start to doubt yourself, just look for me. i’ll be there, reminding you that you’re not alone in this.”

the knot in your chest loosens, just a little, and you find yourself nodding, the panic subsiding enough for you to take a steady breath.

“okay,” you say, more to yourself than him. “okay. i can do this.”

he gives you a final, lingering look—one filled with so much pride, so much trust—and then steps back, giving you the space to gather yourself.

“you better go out there and make them all wish they had your confidence,” he teases, his voice light again, but there’s an underlying current of truth to his words.

as the stage manager signals for you to get into position, you take one last look at drew, and for the first time all night, you feel steady on your feet.

because no matter what happens out there, you know you’re not walking alone.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[khioneee]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐃.

simon makes weekly visits to your flower shop, leaving you curious about the person he’s mourning.

pairing. simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

word count. 4.2k

Every Tuesday, exactly at three in the afternoon—never a minute early, never a minute late—he walks into the shop. Simon always looks the same: tired and drained, pale skin stark against the bruised shadows under his eyes. The cracked red of his lips stands out like a wound, and the way he moves, slow and heavy, makes it seem like sorrow clings to him, weighing him down like an old coat that doesn’t quite fit. Among the bright flowers and soft light of the shop, he stands out like a dark cloud against a summer sky.

"Just a bouquet," he mutters, his voice rough, as though speaking is a struggle.

You grip the counter a little tighter, his presence unsettling yet familiar by now. "Any flowers in particular?" you ask, knowing what the answer will be.

"Doesn’t matter," he says, shaking his head. "Whatever works. I’m not staying long."

He avoids your gaze, as he always does, like looking at you would be too much. The question lingers at the edge of your tongue—Who are the flowers for? Why every week?—but you hold it back. The weight that surrounds him warns against prying too deep, like a thin layer of ice ready to crack.

Instead, you turn away and begin gathering the flowers. You choose yellow and orange roses, soft lilies, daisies, and carnations—delicate blooms that contrast with his rough edges. For some reason, the usual kraft paper wrap feels wrong today, so you arrange them in a small white basket instead.

He always drops more than enough money into the animal shelter’s donation bucket by the door, so you add a few extra roses—your own small gesture to a man who seems to be carrying too much on his back.

When you finish, you find him standing at the far end of the store, idly turning over small trinkets in his large hands. His fingers brush the edges of old picture frames and porcelain figurines, movements careful, almost reverent, like he’s touching something that once meant something.

You approach him quietly, the bouquet in hand. "Will you be back next week?" you ask softly as you hold the flowers out to him.

Your fingers brush his—just for a second—and it’s enough to make him freeze in place. His breath catches, and something shifts in him, like a fault line trembling just beneath the surface. His expression flickers, the tired vacancy in his eyes replaced by a sharp, aching sorrow.

"I… I shouldn’t be here," he mutters under his breath, as if he’s only now realizing it. His hand retreats from the bouquet, and for a moment, he stands there, lost, as though the ground beneath him has crumbled.

Before you can say anything, he takes a step back, stiff and disoriented, his shoulders weighed down by something unseen. "Sorry…" he mumbles, though you’re not sure who the apology is meant for.

Then, without another word, he turns and strides toward the door. The bells jingle softly as it swings open, letting in a gust of cold, rain-scented air. You watch as he disappears into the storm, swallowed by the rain, leaving only the faint scent of flowers—and the feeling that he’s carrying far more than anyone ever should.

You don’t see Simon for three long weeks. And when he returns, it’s not inside the shop—but at three in the morning, under the flickering glow of a streetlamp outside.

He stands there like a shadow—silent, worn, and distant, as if he exists somewhere far from this moment. His hood is pulled low over his unkempt hair, and his black jacket, torn across the chest, looks like it’s been through just as much as he has. One hand rests in the pocket of his jeans, the other dangles at his side, knuckles split and raw, as if he’s been fighting battles no one else can see.

At his feet lies a crushed rose, its petals scattered near the bushes where it must have fallen. And for a moment, you wonder if his heart lies there too—shattered and discarded among the ruins.

You step out into the quiet street, the cold biting your skin as you approach. Words linger on the tip of your tongue, but you’re not sure if anything you say will be enough. The silence between you is thick, oppressive, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

A distant siren wails through the empty streets, and a group of strangers staggers past, their drunken laughter too loud for the hour. One bumps into your shoulder, and the force sends you off-balance—straight into Simon.

He catches you easily, his grip steady and firm. But he doesn’t react. No flicker of emotion, no sound—just the same vacant stare, his gaze lost somewhere you can’t follow.

"Does any of this even matter?" His voice is low, frayed, and cold, as if it’s been left out too long, ready to snap.

You crouch down, gathering the crushed petals by his feet. "What do you mean?" you ask softly, trimming away the thorns with the small scissors always tucked in your work bag.

"Buying flowers for someone who’s gone…" He pauses, his words falling heavily from his lips. "What’s the point? They’ll never see them. They’ll never know they were meant for them."

The crack in his voice is small, but it slices through the night, sharp and raw. You know that kind of grief—the kind that lingers beneath the surface, waiting for a moment to break free.

"Maybe it’s not for them," you say gently. "Maybe it’s for… the ones left behind. Trying to find something beautiful in the loss."

For a moment, his gaze softens. Just slightly. Just enough for you to see the exhaustion hidden beneath the rough edges.

"Do you need a ride home?" you offer, voice careful, trying not to push too hard.

He shakes his head, glancing down the empty street, his expression slipping back into something unreadable. "I shouldn’t have come here," he mutters, raking a hand through his tangled hair, frustration bleeding into his tone.

"You called," you remind him quietly. "Don’t you remember?"

You must be insane, coming after a man this massive. When his call came, you answered without hesitation, not stopping to think how reckless it was to trust a customer you knew nothing about. Rationality had left you somewhere along the way.

“Such a savior you are.” A bitter laugh escapes him, more a sigh than sound. "You shouldn’t waste your kindness on someone like me."

After months of quiet visits and fleeting conversations, it’s hard to believe he was ever a stranger. You’ve learned the way he pulls away just before he opens up, the way sorrow clings to him like an old wound that refuses to heal.

Simon flicks open a lighter, the tiny flame flickering between his fingers. The cigarette at his lips glows faintly as he inhales, the smoke curling into the cold air.

"You shouldn’t try to save me," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "I’m already lost."

You don’t push him for answers, knowing he won’t give them. "I’ll call a cab," you say gently.

"Why?" His voice cracks, raw and tired. The cigarette trembles slightly between his fingers. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Your heart tightens with the weight of everything you can’t explain. There’s no logic to how you feel—no clear reason for the pull that keeps drawing you to him. All you know is that ever since Simon walked into your shop, something within you shifted, and the thought of letting him slip away now feels unbearable.

"I don’t have anywhere to go," he admits quietly, his voice breaking under the weight of the confession. "She’s gone. There’s no one left."

The way he says it. It’s not just a statement. It’s a confession, a truth too heavy to carry alone.

"Loving someone that much…" You search for the right words, careful not to tread too heavily. "It’s not something you just let go of. It stays with you because it mattered."

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting toward the sky where the moon hides behind thick clouds. The weight of the night presses down on both of you, but you stand there with him, sharing the quiet until it feels just a little less overwhelming.

And this time, Simon doesn’t walk away.

Simon’s frame fills the entrance, broad and imposing, but the way he stands, rigid and hesitant, makes him seem smaller somehow—weighed down by something invisible yet heavy.

"Hi, Simon," you greet him gently, already sensing the weight he carries. "Visiting her grave today?"

For a moment, his expression flickers, as if your words pulled him back from somewhere far away. "Who—?" He catches himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah… yeah, I am."

You nod, knowing better than to press. Some things are only said when the time is right. "Anything specific you’d like for the bouquet?"

He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Whatever you think is nice… something you’d like."

The simplicity of his words catches you off guard, unexpectedly personal. Your breath hitches, but you hide it behind a small smile. You step behind the counter and begin gathering flowers: soft pink roses, delicate white lilies, and sprigs of lavender. Something light, hopeful, but not too much—a bouquet that balances beauty and sorrow without overwhelming either.

The silence stretches between you. Not uncomfortable, but thick with things unsaid. You can feel his gaze following your hands, watching as you arrange the flowers with practiced care. You wonder what it must be like for him, visiting her grave week after week, carrying a grief that never really leaves.

"It can’t be easy, coming by this often," you say gently, your voice soft as you focus on the bouquet. "That must be hard."

He shifts slightly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of something invisible. "No… it’s not," he admits, his voice low and rough, as if the words scrape on the way out. "But it feels right. I’ll do anything to see her."

You pause, heart aching at the rawness in his voice. As you finish tying the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you hand it to him. "She must have been lucky to have you," you whisper. "If you’ve been giving her flowers this often."

Simon’s hand hovers over the bouquet for a second, the compliment hitting him deeper than you expected. He shakes his head slowly, a sad, bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Not as lucky as I was to have her," he murmurs, voice quiet but filled with something raw and unguarded.

For a moment, the world narrows to the two of you. His hand brushing against yours as he takes the bouquet, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the cold weight of his words.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he mutters, glancing down at the flowers, then back at you. "For disturbing you the other night."

His apology catches you off guard, not because it’s needed, but because it’s so unexpected coming from him.

"It’s alright," you say softly, offering a small smile. "You didn’t disturb me."

Simon gives you a subtle nod, as if the exchange carries more meaning than either of you will say aloud. Then, with the bouquet cradled gently in his hands, he turns toward the door.

The bell chimes softly as he steps out into the night, vanishing into the shadows beyond the streetlamp’s flickering glow. You stand there for a moment longer, heart heavy with something unnameable.

Simon’s presence was different today—darker, heavier. The quiet energy that usually followed him had given way to something more burdensome. His broad shoulders sagged as if carrying the world, and his gaze was distant, clouded with thoughts too deep to share.

You offered him a small smile, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Hey, Simon.”

He tried to return the gesture, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice thin and tired, like it barely crossed the space between you.

Concern stirred in your chest, tugging you away from the counter. “You seem… off today. Wanna get out of here for a bit?”

He blinked, surprised by the suggestion, but didn’t protest. Maybe he was too tired to refuse.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing your jacket from the hook by the door. “I’ve got a place I think you’ll like.”

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Simon sat beside you, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, lost in thoughts he wasn’t ready to share. You didn’t press him. The hum of the tires on the road filled the silence, carrying the two of you away from the noise of town and into somewhere softer, quieter.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time you arrived, casting the field ahead of you in warm hues of gold and lavender. Wildflowers swayed gently beneath the breeze, stretching out toward the horizon as if they could touch the fading light.

Simon stepped out of the car slowly, his breath catching slightly as he took in the sight before him. The field seemed endless, open and free—a stark contrast to the burdens he carried.

You sat cross-legged among the flowers, and Simon followed, settling beside you with his arms draped over his knees, staring out at the horizon like he was searching for something lost in the past.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and filling the silence between you. Eventually, Simon’s voice broke through, low and rough like a confession.

“It’s been a year… since she passed.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of deep, unrelenting grief. His gaze stayed fixed on the sunset, as if watching the sun disappear beneath the earth brought him closer to her.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you whispered, wishing there was more you could offer him. “What was she like?”

At first, he stayed quiet, and you wondered if you had asked too much. But then, in a voice soft with nostalgia, he said, “A lot like you.”

The simplicity of the statement caught you off guard.

“How so?” you asked, glancing toward him.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“She loved flowers,” he murmured. “Used to fill the apartment with them, even though I told her it was too much. She’d just laugh and say there was no such thing as too many flowers.”

You could see it clearly—a home bursting with blooms, her laughter filling every corner, her presence bringing life to everything she touched. Now, it made sense why he returned to your shop so often.

Hoping to ease the heaviness in the air, you plucked a dandelion from the ground and held it toward him with a playful grin.

“Make a wish.”

Simon eyed the dandelion, a tired chuckle slipping from his lips.

“Wishes don’t work like that,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Maybe not,” you said, twirling the stem between your fingers. “But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

He huffed another quiet laugh, the sound brief but genuine.

“Any chance you got a whole field of these somewhere?”

You tilted your head in mock consideration. “Not yet,” you teased. “But we’ve got this one, and I’d say that’s a good start.”

He shakes his head lightly, but the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. It’s a small smile—barely there—but it’s something, and that’s enough for now.

After that quiet evening in the field of flowers, something shifted between you and Simon. His visits became longer, lingering beyond the brief exchanges of bouquets. What had once been fleeting moments stretched into hours—sometimes the entire day—as if your presence gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years.

But Simon didn’t just idle. He threw himself into the heavy work around the shop without a word. If there were heavy pots to lift or supplies to haul, Simon was already on it before you could even ask.

"I’ve got it," he would mutter whenever you tried to help, brushing you off with that quiet determination. He lifted bags of soil with ease, rearranged displays as if it was nothing, and hauled boxes of supplies like they weighed no more than feathers. He’d even repair things you hadn’t realized were broken—fixing wobbly shelves or leaky faucets without waiting to be asked.

He worked with an intensity that didn’t match the simplicity of the tasks, as if lifting heavy things or rearranging displays was more than just helping—it was his way of staying close to you. The repetition, the quiet rhythm of it, seemed to steady something deep inside him, keeping him grounded. If exhausting himself with work meant he could be near you a little longer, he’d do it without a second thought.

Some days, the two of you would talk as you worked side by side. You’d tell him the little frustrations of the shop—how the clippers were always dull, or how the ribbon spools always seemed to run out at the worst time. You’d walk him through the same explanations, over and over again, with the same quiet enthusiasm every time. And every time, Simon would listen. Closely. Intently. Like your words were something invaluable.

But the truth was, it wasn’t new to him.

He knew the rhythm of your voice, the way you moved effortlessly between tasks, your hands brushing over scissors, twine, and ribbons with ease. It was too familiar, a life he once knew—now distant, fragmented, slipping through his fingers.

And every time you smiled at him, he had to remind himself: She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t know me.

You weren’t the same woman who had once filled his life with flowers and light. The way you arranged bouquets, the way you laughed, the way you tilted your head when you talked—it was all a little different now. Not enough for most to notice, but to Simon, the subtle differences were glaring.

And still, the pull of familiarity was there, undeniable.

There were moments when he stood too close, lingering a little too long, as if searching your face for something lost to time. When the memories became too sharp, he’d force himself to remember: She’s not her. She’s not the same.

But the words didn’t stop the way his heart softened toward you.

The quiet comfort of your presence, the sound of your voice filling the shop like sunlight through the windows—he found himself craving it. If he could stay busy hauling heavy pots, rearranging shelves, or carrying supplies just to stay close, then that was what he would do.

You weren’t the same woman he’d lost. But in ways that scared him more than anything, you were becoming just as important.

“Here,” you said, holding the flower out to him.

Hyuck blinked, caught off guard. “For me?”

You nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. It suits you.”

He stared at the rose in your hand, hesitant at first, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it. But then, with a small, uncertain smile, he reached out and took it. His fingers brushed against yours in the exchange—soft, fleeting, but enough to make something stir quietly between you.

“Why a rose?” he asked, twirling the stem between his fingers.

You shrugged, tilting your head thoughtfully. “Because it’s beautiful, obviously.”

He gave a short laugh, the kind that carried both amusement and disbelief. “Did it remind you of me?”

“Maybe,” you teased, your grin widening. “Or maybe you just needed one. Ever think of that?”

He looked down at the rose in his hands, the smile lingering on his lips. For a moment, the usual shadows behind his eyes seemed to lift, replaced by something softer.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

You leaned against the counter beside him, close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. “Roses are special, you know. They mean different things depending on who gives them.”

He glanced at you, curious. “And what does it mean when you give one to me?”

You smiled, the answer slipping out before you could stop it. “It means I want you to keep coming back.”

For a moment, Simon just looked at you, his expression unreadable. His breath hitched, and the weight of your words settled between you like the scent of roses on a warm breeze. Something flickered in his eyes, something that looked almost like recognition, but not quite.

He gave the rose a little twirl between his fingers before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket, as if it were something precious.

"I’ll keep coming back," he whispered, the words low like a vow meant only for the two of you.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by flowers and the slow hum of the day, something shifted between you—something delicate, like the first petals of a rose unfurling under the warmth of spring. You felt it bloom, soft and new, even though you couldn’t fully name it.

But Simon knew.

Because as much as he tried to convince himself that you weren’t the same woman he had once loved—weren’t the same person who had filled his world with light—this moment, the way you smiled at him, felt like a memory he had been chasing for years.

And as he stood there, with a rose tucked safely in his jacket and the sound of your voice lingering in the air, he knew he was already lost to you—just as he had been once before.

And this time, no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t sure he could let go.

So, Simon stayed—lifting, moving, fixing—working himself to the bone, not because the tasks needed doing, but because he needed this. Needed you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, even if you couldn’t remember the life you once shared, he remembered enough for both of you.

And being near you, no matter how different things were, was better than being without you at all.

The evening settled over the quiet town, the cool air thick with the scents of late autumn and flowers nearing the end of their bloom. Simon's steps dragged as he made his way toward your flower shop, exhaustion settling deep in his bones from weeks away on deployment. His body was used to this kind of weariness, but the heaviness in his chest, that was something else entirely.

Between his fingers, he toyed with the rose. The one you’d given him weeks ago, now dry and brittle, its once-vibrant petals curled and shriveled. He had carried it with him everywhere, like a lifeline, as if holding onto it might somehow keep him connected to you.

As he approached the familiar glow of the shop’s windows, Simon slowed. When he peered through the glass, he froze.

You were inside, dancing under the soft overhead lights—not alone, but with another man. His hands rested at your waist, and your smile was radiant, carefree in a way Simon hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. Even through the glass, he could see the happiness in your face. Happiness that used to belong to the two of you.

The knot in his chest twisted painfully. He knew things had changed. People moved on, especially when left with no answers, no promises. But seeing you like this, with someone else, felt like a knife to the gut he wasn’t ready for.

He thought of the accident—the one that had shattered your life and stolen your memories. The memory was jagged and relentless, lodged in his mind like a blade he couldn’t pull out. He could still hear the screech of tires, the shatter of glass, and your voice, soft and afraid, just before everything went dark.

You had been with him that night. Trusted him. And he had failed. The guilt twisted in his chest, blooming like thorns, sharp and unforgiving. If he had been more careful, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in that hospital bed, lost to the world. Lost to him.

Inside, the man twirled you effortlessly, your laughter filling the shop with warmth. To you, the accident, the hospital, and everything you shared with Simon had never happened. But for Simon, it was a moment he could never escape. A scar that bled every time he thought of it.

He remembered sitting at your bedside in the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling the room. Your body had been bruised and broken beneath the white sheets, and your mom’s sharp voice echoed in his mind.

“You prick yourself because you don’t know how to take care of flowers,” she had said, her words as cold as the machines keeping you alive.

Simon hadn’t argued because she was right. He didn’t know how to care for flowers—or for you, not without breaking something delicate in the process. He’d tried. God, he’d tried. But trying hadn’t been enough. And now, he stood outside your shop, watching you dance with someone else—watching you live a life where he no longer had a place.

If it were before—before the accident, before the memories slipped away—he might have begged for more time. A proper goodbye. Maybe even a lifetime spent loving you until the flowers grew over his grave, the weeds plucked away so only beauty remained.

But now, he stood outside, a ghost at the edge of your new beginning.

The worst part wasn’t seeing you in someone else’s arms. It was knowing that you had no idea what you once meant to him. That every time you’d asked, "Visiting someone special?" you never realized it was you—your memory—he was mourning.

You didn’t remember the nights when your fingers ran gently through his hair, quieting his restless thoughts. You didn’t remember the mornings tangled in bedsheets that smelled like the roses from your shop, or the lazy afternoons when you’d hold up dandelions with that teasing grin of yours.

"Make a wish, Si," you’d say, eyes bright with playful mischief.

And every time, he’d push the flower back toward you with a soft, knowing smile. "I don’t need to. I already have everything I need."

And back then, it had been true.

But now, standing outside your shop with the brittle rose clutched between his fingers, Simon realized just how much he had lost. Not just you, but the version of himself who once believed love could be enough.

He knelt slowly at the threshold, placing the dried rose among the wilted petals and fallen leaves scattered near the entrance. The petals cracked under his touch, their fragility mirroring the ache in his chest. He didn’t bother plucking the petals—didn’t need to play the old game of ‘she loves me, she loves me not.’ Love, he knew, didn’t need an answer. It just was, even if it went unremembered.

Through the window, he watched you again, the man spinning you under the soft light, your laughter carrying in a way that felt like a distant memory.

And despite the sharp ache in his heart, Simon smiled—a small, sad thing, but genuine.

He had loved you once. More deeply than words could ever express. He still did. Even if you didn’t remember. Even if you never would.

Maybe that had to be enough.

With a deep breath, Simon tucked his hands into his pockets and turned away from the shop, his boots heavy against the pavement as he walked into the night. Behind him, the dried rose rested among the dead petals and brittle leaves, marking the spot where he let you go—not because he wanted to, but because he had no other choice.

The cool night air wrapped around him as he walked down the empty street. He thought of those dandelion afternoons, how you used to hold the flowers up to him with a grin, urging him to make a wish.

And for the first time, Simon let himself wonder what he would wish for now, if given the chance. But deep down, he knew the truth. No wish could bring back the version of you who had once loved him.

With your laugh still lingering in his mind, Simon kept walking.

It wasn’t the ending he wanted, but it was the one he had.

And this time, he would learn to live with it.

[tarotwithlucien]

Letter from your Future Spouse | PICK A PILE

⊹ ᨦ Hello! Welcome to another PAP about future spouse, as you asked for a lot, here I am back ;) I have to warn you that there's a lil bit of nsfw in this reading so if you're underage LEAVE 😠

₊˚๑ How to choose: Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the image that caught your attention. ₊˚๑ Disclaimer: All readings are done for entertainment only, don't use my readings as a replacement for legitimate advice. This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ masterist | tip jar

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE ONE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

"My dearest love,

I want you to know that all I truly desire is a peaceful life with you. In a world that often seems to value wealth, fame, and material luxuries, I find solace in the simplicity of our love. I don’t need grand gestures or extravagant possessions. As long as I’m by your side, that’s more than enough for me. I envision a quiet, private life where it’s just the two of us, free from the noise and distractions of the outside world. It doesn’t even matter to me if no one in the city we live in knows our name, all that matters is you and the beautiful life we build together. From the moment I met you, I’ve fallen for you deeply. Your essence captivates me in ways I can hardly explain. I love your unique style, even when others judge it harshly (Many people in this pile have a more alternative look, maybe even tattoos or piercings, and that just adds to how much they admire you). I find beauty in your individuality, in the way you express yourself unapologetically. I adore listening to you talk, even when your words ramble on about something seemingly silly – it doesn’t matter. When you ask me to, I love wrapping my hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath my fingertips. The way you beg for my touch sends shivers down my spine; it ignites a fire within me that I never knew existed. The pleasure you give me is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and I crave every moment we share. Seeing you from behind during our passionate encounters drives me wild with desire, and I’m utterly eager to know your taste in every sense. I am completely captivated by you; you have my heart, and honestly, I’d let you ruin my life if that’s what you wanted. I want you to know that you are free to be exactly who you are with me. Never apologize for being yourself; your authenticity is what makes you shine. Don’t let the opinions of others weigh you down or dictate how you live your life. You don’t need to seek validation from anyone or change who you are to fit someone else’s expectations. Those people who criticize you? They’re simply jealous because they lack the courage to live as freely as you do. Remember, you’re not perfect – none of us are – but you possess so much inherent value. I hope you can see that in yourself, even on days when self-doubt creeps in. I’ve noticed that you’ve been holding back, staying quiet when things or people bother you, and it’s been going on for far too long. It’s time to stop. You deserve to stand up for yourself and speak out when something doesn’t feel right. Don’t just let things slide or accept situations that don’t sit well with your heart. And please, exercise caution with the people you trust – not everyone has your best interests at heart. You are precious to me, and I want to protect you from any negativity or harm that may come your way. You mean everything to me, and I promise to be your safe haven, your supporter, and your biggest fan. Together, we can navigate this life and face whatever challenges come our way. I’ll always stand by your side, encouraging you to be the incredible person you are meant to be.

With all my love, Your future spouse."

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE TWO ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

"My love,

I’ve never felt so happy or so deeply invested in someone until you came into my life. Before we became what we are now, we were just friends, and that in itself was confusing for me. I’d never felt anything like this for anyone before, so it caught me off guard. But now, being with you, I find myself in awe, thinking, "Wow, is this really my life?”. Being with you as your partner feels like the most divine experience I’ve ever had. Right now, I know there are people who don’t treat you the way you deserve. Some of them always think they’re right and criticize you, making it seem like you’re always wrong and never good enough. They point out your flaws and mistakes as if you aren’t capable of doing anything right. But listen to me, love, you don’t need to tolerate that. You deserve better. These people don’t know your worth, and I’m telling you, don’t waste your time trying to please them. Don’t let their words tear you down, and don’t let them walk all over you. It’s time for you to stand tall and show them exactly who you are. You’re so much more than their shallow judgments, and you don’t need their approval to know your value. The thought of losing you is something I can hardly bear. Just imagining you being with someone else, laughing with them, sharing moments, and kissing them – it makes my heart ache in ways I can’t describe. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m protective of you because I love you so much, and the idea of someone else having what we have – it would break me. I know it sounds possessive, but it’s not in a toxic way. I just can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to share you with anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll always fight for us because I know that what we have is rare. This kind of love doesn’t come around often, and it’s something worth fighting for, no matter what. I’ll be by your side through every high and low. I’m not going anywhere. Stay with me, because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve dreamed of. You deserve the world, and I’ll spend my life trying to give it to you. You’re beautiful – so incredibly beautiful. If we were in a room full of people, you’d still be the only one I’d see. No one else could ever hold my attention the way you do. You make me feel more alive than I ever have before, and I can’t help but be mesmerized by you, by the way you move, by everything you are. I want you. I want to feel you close, I want our bodies to collapse into one another, and I want to hold you through the night. I want to wake up the next morning with you beside me, your face illuminated by the soft light of the sun. I can’t imagine anything more perfect than that. Every moment with you feels like a dream, and I never want to wake up from it. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how much I cherish you. I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you, and I’ll stand by you, no matter what comes our way. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything.

With all my love, Your future spouse."

🥐 ��� ꒱ PILE THREE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

"My darling,

I want you to know that I’m here to lift you up and encourage you to fly high, chasing after all your dreams with unwavering determination. I see you grappling with people who are rude or who treat you as if you’re less than you truly are, and I want you to realize that this mistreatment only happens because you allow it. I understand that you might hold back your words, choosing silence to avoid conflict, but it’s essential for you to stand your ground and assert yourself. You have every right to demand respect, and you must not let anyone walk all over you. It might take time for you to learn how to set boundaries and to stand firm without feeling guilty, especially if you’re someone who tends to please others. Change doesn’t happen overnight, but I promise you, you’ll get there if you take that first step. I see you feeling lonely at times, and it pains me to know that you’re going through this. I can help you mend that loneliness, and I want nothing more than to see you shine brightly in your own unique way. I long to be near you, to touch you, to kiss you passionately, and to explore every inch of your being. You deserve to feel desired and loved, and I want to be the one to show you just how incredible you are. I’ll make you scream with pleasure because you are such a good girl/good boy, and I will send you all the love in my heart, wrapped in every caress and whisper. You have the power to manifest the life of your dream. You can create the reality you desire, and I believe in you wholeheartedly. Know that I am practically at your feet, waiting for you to call out to me. As soon as you do, I will come running. Being apart from you right now feels like a dagger to my heart. Even though we haven’t met yet, I am on a quest to find you, enduring this distance as best I can. The thought of trying to stop loving you is impossible; it would only cause my feelings to deepen. I could never truly let you go, and the very idea of it is unbearable. But I hold on to the hope that one day we will be together, sharing everything that life has to offer. My eyes are always on you; you are everything I see. You are my world, my everything, and I will always be here, ready to embrace you when the time comes.

With all my love, Your future spouse."

© tarotwithlucien - don't copy, redistribute or edit my content | moodboard & dividers by plutism

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE SERIES

So, I decided to do this series to celebrate my 300 followers. You can ask me to add any idol + the situation, whether male or female. The final chapter will be sunoo, regardless of which idols come first.

🌊 ⏝⠀ ⚓️ ㅤ५‌ ۟ 𓂂 ꒰੭

SEX NOTE (l.hs)

After discovering the magic book, you tried to "test" it to see if it was true, you thought nothing would happen until you heard a chuckle behind you.

WC . 2.3k

PAIRING . Idol!heeseung x normal!reader

WARNINGS . ft. Jake Sim, if you saw the anime don't read this because it's not a faithful adaptation, sex (mdni), oral sex (both reciving), boobjob, boobsucking, playing with nipples, 3 rounds, sucking fingers, cum eating, dirty talk, spit play, foreplay, lmk if I missed anything else

Read here.

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Rockstar!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

Read here.

SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, let me know if I missed something

Relase date: after jay.

SEX NOTE (p.sh)

you carried that notebook everywhere, even to your doctor's office. you were in the middle of writing something when the doctor interrupted you, taking the notebook out of your hands.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . doctor!sunghoon x pacient!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), a little cnc if you think about it, teasing, fingering, masturbation (f receiving), creampie (the sword must have a sheath), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jake.

SEX NOTE (y.jw)

you wanted to know if it would work to create a fictional character from your mind, but when it was time to think of the name your cat jumped into your lap and ruined everything.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . HEAR ME OUR FIRST, I'M NOT A FURRY, READ FIRST cat-to-human!jungwon x owner!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), weird situation (HEAR ME OUT), pussy eating, nip licking, sub!won, lots of whimpering from wonie, mentions of "mommy", let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after sunghoon.

SEX NOTE (l.jn)

after the situation with your cat, you wanted to test what would happen if you did the same with your mother's old magazine.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . 90sModel!jeno x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), unreal situation, cum on face, spit kink, eye contact, slapping, p in v, no protection but cums outside (never do that), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jungwon.

SEX NOTE (k.js)

you had been on a week-long streak without using the book, a streak that was broken when you went to buy a coffee for your friend (oh, remembering Jake...) and saw the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bartender!jongseob x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), seob is a bit depressing, it's also a bit perv, facial, nipple licking (not the ones you think), sex on the table, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeno.

SEX NOTE (y.jm)

you were liking the massage too much, why not improve it?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . massager!karina x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), body caressing, dirty talk, rubbing, fingering, cum licking, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeongseob.

SEX NOTE (n.rk)

you were tired of your bully and his temporary girlfriend making your life miserable, so why not take revenge on both of them and get something in the process?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bully!niki x student!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), niki is really mean, oral sex (m reciving), anal, fingering, some hickeys, infidelity, squirting, let me know if I missed something

Relase date: after karina.

SEX NOTE (k.sn)

you shouldn't have been greedy, you shouldn't have to carry that stupid book everywhere, now you lost it. and the worst part? it fell into the wrong hands, now you're fucked.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . nerd!obsessive!classmate!sunoo x oblivious!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), probably cnc, ropes to tie you, pussy eating, thigh job, creampie, cum eating, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after i posted all.

》 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 《

You were in your room procrastinating when your best friend, Jake Sim, came into your room throwing you a gift and then leaving as quickly as he arrived. You rolled your eyes at his action and then proceeded to open the gift. It was very badly wrapped and inside there was... a fucking notebook? You opened it to see what was inside. The cover said "sex note" but inside there were a few pages of rules and many more empty ones. The rules were:

• The human whose name is written in this note will appear to fuck you.

• This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

• If the way they fuck is written within 40 seconds of writing it, it will happend.

• If the scenario is not written/specified, the person will only appear to fuck you in missionary.

• Minors are totally prohibited, if you write the name of someone under 18 years and 6 months, you will die of a heart attack. The same applies to animals.

OK? weird...

[homestylehughes]

bed chem.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): fluff. mutual pinning. very slight slow burn. suggestive content. 18+.

wc: 1.5K

an: hi lovesss!!!! I present you with a new fic, finally. this song is loosely based off of "bed chem" by sabrina carpenter, and the one and only quinn hughes. this is one of my favorites, I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy, like and reblog if you did :)

as always, much much love <3

He caught your attention in a room full of people, your eyes stuck to him like glue. Your eyes followed his every movement, watching him wordlessly from across the busy club. Watching how he interacted with the people around him, how his lips broke into a smile as he laughed at something someone said to him. 

He, whoever he was, was beautiful. From his hair, eyes, smile, everything. Not to mention how his white fitted shirt looked on him. The fit was so perfect, it almost looked like it was painted on him. You felt like a creep looking at him, but you couldn't help it. There was just something about him that was almost addictive? Something bad, but yet so so good. 

“Are you done staring at him like a creep, or are you gonna go over and say something?” your friend says besides you, snapping you out of daydream

“I wasn't looking..just observing” you say, clearing your throat, before taking a drink of the watered down cocktail in front of you in hopes to avert your gaze from the Greek god of a man in front of you. 

“Well..he and his friends just looked over here and pointed.” she giggles from besides you

“Shit. Are you joking? Youve got to be joking right?” you whisper-yell to her in a state of panic 

“Nope,” she says, popping the p.

“Oh god, yn they're coming over here now.” she says frantically 

“Oh my god” you say, moving to sit up straighter in your seat. Your eyes move to follow the very attractive man and his friends make their way over to you guys. 

“Shit he is hot, and so are his friends.” your friend gushes out besides you 

“Shut it, act normal, talk to me about something.” you say quickly, your eyes flickering to the men who are moving in closer. 

Your friend starts talking to you about something random, but you can't concentrate on her words. Your mind is locked in the man approaching, that you can't gather another thought about anything else, as you watch them in the corner of your eye. Just as they are about to reach the table, another large group of men cuts in front of them. Wrapping each of the men into hugs, yelling and smiling as they interact, with what you assume are their friends. 

“Youve got to be kidding me” she says, stopping mid sentence of her empty word ramble. 

“ well..thats, that i guess” you sign out, looking as the men pull each other to the bar in the opposite direction. 

“Guy in the white shirt is looking at you, look up look up.” she says slapping your arm 

Quickly reacting, pulling your head up. Your eyes find him quickly, as he looks back at you. Sending you a quick wink and smirk before he turns around following his friends. 

“Oh my gosh. Yn he so wants you” 

“I don't even know if i'll see him again”

“Never say never.” 

You giggle at her opsitism, before throwing the rest of your drink back, hopping out of your seat, moving to grabher hands pulling her towards the dance floor. 

“Come on! We came to have fun, right?” you shout at her, as you two giggle walking hand in hand to the dance floor. 

– 

After lots of fun, maybe too much fun and a few more drinks later. You finally make your way back to your hotel. You come back solo you might add, your friend being pulled away by a hot mysterious man who caught her attention. Leading her to follow him out of the club with a wide smile on her face. 

Sighing deeply as you stare at your shoes waiting for the elevator door to open, a few moments later a loud ding signals in the opening. Heading in quickly, and hitting your floor. Leaning your exposed back against the cool elevator door, the only thing on your mind is taking off your shoes, and washing a somewhat disappointing night out away. 

Just as the elevator is about to close, you hear a man shouting to hold the door. Pushing yourself off the wall to hit the open button. The out of breath man quickly moves in, as you look up to ask him what floor he needs, you're face to face with, hot fitted white shirt man, who's staring at you with widened eyes. 

“What floor do you need?” you ask quietly, struggling to find your words.

“Um, 69 please, oh wait you've already pressed that.” The man finally speaks to you, his deep voice filling the now closed elevator. 

“You're the girl from the club tonight.” he says looking over at you from across the elevator. 

“And you're the guy” you say

“Felt you looking at me, the whole night” he says, his words causing a blush to rise to your cheeks as you look back down at your shoes. 

“Don't be embarrassed, i was looking too.” he continues 

“I saw” you spoke 

“Almost had you too” he says 

“Almost..” you repeat to him softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and eyes. 

“Well we’re here now” he replies 

“You have 9 floors to make something happen..” you trail off 

“Quinn. My names quinn” he says 

“Yn. my names yn” 

“Well yn i only need 2 floors to make this happen” quinn says, quickly making his way over to you. One of his hands meeting your hip as the other holding your face, pulling you into him, your lips connecting as one.

The motion happens so quickly you barely have time to register what your body is doing until you're kissing him back quickly. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as you pull yourself into his body.

You two are so wrapped up into each other that you don't even realize the elevator has stopped, the door opening slowly. 

Quinn pulls back, his lips swollen as he looks down at you. “How was that for something yn?” he says, dropping his gaze down to you. 

“I think i might need you to show me a bit more” you whisper

“Oh really?” he says as he slowly pulls you out of the elevator. 

“Mhm” you mumble to him

“Lead the way” he says, dropping his hand from you, waiting on your next move. 

You take a second to take him in natural light. Everything about him is intoxicating, you need more. No matter the cost, or how bad of an idea it could be. You don't care, not right now. Before you can give it a second thought, you're pulling him by his hand by your room. Your steps are quick, your body hot with need. 

Reaching your room quickly, dropping Quinn's hand, as you start searching for your key card, you feel Quinn's hot body against yours. His lips finding your neck and his hands back on your hips as he pulls you back against him. Your movements began to halter as he began to get lost in his touch. 

“Quinn..you have to get off me for 30 seconds so i can open the door” 

“Mhm. I know, but I'm getting impatient. I've wanted you all night.” he says against your neck, his warm breath sending chills down your body. 

“You wanna know what i've thought about and what i'm thinking about right now? Hm?” he asks 

“Yes, yes tell me” you gasp out, your hands trying to move quickly, still in search of the key. 

“How the dress would look on the floor, how your body would look against mine. How youd look all fucked out for me in my bed” he says, his lips tight to your ear. 

Just as he finishes his sentence, your hands grasp the key card in your purse. Pulling it out quickly, and tapping it against the door aggressively, pushing the door open as soon as it buzzes open. 

Quinn moves quickly, pushing you in slamming the door, and before you know it his lips are against yours as if they never left. You're quick to turn him around, your hands moving against the buttons on his shirt as he hits the bed, pulling you on top of him; your lips never once leaving each other. 

“You're dangerous” quinn says pulling away from your lips 

“Why's that?” you ask, your hands still working to unbutton his shirt. 

“I've barely had any of you, and i dont think ill ever get enough” he says looking at you

“Who said you ever have to stop, we’re just getting started” you say while unbuttoning the last button on his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders. 

Quinn responds with a look and a small smirk and you know what that means.

[blueeyedgirll]

cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

[makethemhoesmad]

love you till my lungs give out

paige bueckers x reader

word count- 2k(lord)

notes: this fic was such a great write for me, as it focuses around eating disorders, which is something i’ve personally struggled with. i know this is a sensitive topic, so please, if this makes you uncomfortable, scroll away, or read at your own risk.

thanks to: literally the biggest thanks ever to @melpthatsme for dming me your idea and helping me work through it, i really could not have done this without you, so everyone thank them

also thanks to @imaginespazzi and @bueckersstrap for reacting to my random messages about this

—

the first time it happened, i barely realized i did it.

“paigey, my head hurts so bad right now. like, im gonna die right here,” i groan, hiding my face in the fabric of her hoodie, trying to lock out any stray amounts of light coming from the covered windows. she runs her hand through my hair, and starts to ever-so-gently massage my temples. i sigh in quiet relief, and then she tries to pull me up to lay on top of her.

“uh uh, paige, no,” i say. i try to shake my head at her, but a bolt of pain flies through me, forcing my head back down.

“jus’ tryna help you get comfy, ma,” she whispers, bundling me up in a blanket and pulling me back into her side. she moves her warm hands up and under my t-shirt, but i squirm about, complaining that they’re too cold, even though i’ve never felt anything more soft and warm, so she moves them back over my shirt. but i don’t notice it, not really. and neither does she.

the second time, i know what i did.

“so, what should we order to eat?” paige asks, scrolling on her phone for different options. 

“mm, what if i cooked here, for something different! i can make you a grilled cheese,” i joke, nudging her arm with my shoulder. “that’s all i know how to cook anyway.”

she giggles, standing up with me and following me to the kitchen. she hoists herself onto the counter, and watches me intently as i pull out the things for a sandwich. i grin at her, moving to step in between her legs and take her face in my hands. 

“you’re so cute,” i say, pressing a kiss to her nose. she hops off of the counter and follows me to the stove. paige is just too sweet to me sometimes. i’m cooking dinner for her, the least i can do, really, and she’s cozied up behind me, arms around my waist her hands are barely touching, she can barely fit them around me and her chin is resting softly on my shoulder. she’s pressing light pecks to whatever area she can reach, and i feel at peace, in the kitchen, for a few moments. then it stops.

“why aren’t you making one for yourself baby?” she asks, spinning me around to lean me against the countertop, forgetting her sandwich beside her.

“i’m feeling, um, nauseous,” i stutter, stumbling over the excuse. she lets me go, though she looks skeptical.

“cmon, just have a bite of mine then. baby, you really need to eat more, that’s probably why you haven’t been feeling very well lately.”

i allow her to feed me a small bite, then quickly use my fingers to silently add that to whatever else i ate today. i read somewhere that to lose weight, you need to burn more calories that you eat. tomorrow, i need to burn around 800. Well, 804 now. 

the third time, i think paige noticed something was up.

“ma, this is literally the fourth time you’ve said that you’re cold. just take my fucking hoodie, i’m actually begging you,” she pleads, taking it off and offering it up to me. i shake my head, again, and press myself further into her chest, rubbing my arms to try and make the goosebumps disappear. she pulls me into her, then moves her mouth to my ear.

“is everything okay baby? do you wanna go home?” she whispers, nuzzling my neck with her nose. i shrug, not wanting to make her leave if she wasn’t done chatting with people yet. she makes the decision for me, standing up and tugging me with her. her hand finds its way to the small of my back, and she guides me towards the door. i sway slightly as we stand, blood rushing to my head. i take it as my lack of protein, or anything really, catching up to me. she stops walking, lurching to grab me by both shoulders and bend to eye level with me.

“darling, i want you to be honest with me. what have you eaten today?” i shake my head, feeling my cheeks going red at the thought of her confronting me. i look down, trying to avoid eye contact with her as my eyes fill with tears. she wraps me up into a hug, planting a kiss to the top of my head. she pulls me to the car and helps me in, then climbs into her own door, but makes no move to turn the car on. instead she pulls out her phone and asks me “so, where do you wanna stop and pick up food on our way home?” 

“paige, i’m really not that hungry, just tired and need to be with you in bed for the night. can we please just go home?” 

she nods, but looks at me skeptically out of the corner of her eye. she must know that all i’ve eaten today is half an energy drink and a piece of gum. i’ll eat something with her tomorrow, i guess. we can go out to lunch together and then when she goes to the gym ill go on a run. then she’ll see that im okay.

the fourth time, or probably the fifth or sixth, really, i don’t notice it, so i don’t think she does either.

“cmere pretty,” paige mumbles, reaching her arms out to me from where she’s laying on the bed. i slowly move to lay next to her, but roll away when she tries to take my sweater off.

“hey, baby, what?” she whines, apparently frustrated by the lack of contact.

“i wanna leave it on, paigey,” i tell her, moving my hand into the waistband of her shorts.

“but i wanna see you, please baby,” i don’t like saying no to her, but this is one thing i very rarely back down on.

“uh uh, sorry. lemme taste you, though,” i respond, moving to tug her shorts down.

“nah, come and sit on my face, cutie.” she smirks at her own words, but i’m not laughing. i scramble off the bed, standing up to black spots in my vision. i stand still, squeezing my eyes shut to get rid of the feeling. i stay there for im not sure how long, when i feel strong arms loop around my shoulders and help me onto the bed. paige helps me lay down, placing my head in her lap, then starts to comb through my hair with her fingers. she doesn’t say anything, and i’m grateful for that. obviously, she just thinks im tired. she knows im okay.

this time, im sure she noticed. it would be hard not to.

i’ve just come home from a run to the gym, dripping in sweat. it’s part of my new routine. i jog a mile and a half to the gym, i walk on a stairmaster or inclined treadmill there, then run home. normally i leave when paige leaves for practice, and come home just as she’s getting home, if not a little before so i can shower before she gets here. today, i must’ve done a little too much, because by the time i walk in the door, my head is spinning. i walk into the kitchen, sitting down at the island and resting my head in my hands, trying to clear my vision. i don’t hear when the door opens.

“baby, are you okay?” i hear. i sit up quickly, startled, then put my head back down immediately, because my vision goes nearly dark again.

“mhm, just tired you know? just got back from a run.” 

“you’ve got to take a rest day sometimes, darling,” she coos, taking my face into her hands and pressing a kiss to my nose. i nod, knowing i won’t do it.

sometimes i don’t realize it, but she knows exactly what to do.

i’ve just finished cooking dinner, just some simple spaghetti and a salad. i place her bowl of noodles in front of her, then settle down with my salad. when i stand up to get a glass of water, then come back, i can’t help but notice she’s switched our bowls.

“paigey, could i, possibly, maybe, have my bowl back?” i ask, trying to seem lighthearted.

“oh, yeah, sure,” she answers, sliding it back towards me. but when i try to slide hers back, she stops me. 

“nah, you eat that too. seems like you forgot to serve yourself noodles, so ill go make myself a new bowl.” she stands up, but i scramble in front of the stove quicker, blocking her way. 

“why would you do that, when i made you a whole bowl? eat it,” i tell her, pointing back to the countertop. she lunges at me, lifting me easily and placing me on the countertop. why would she pick me up? she definitely thought i was too heavy. i bet she leaves after this. she drags her my bowl over, twirls a few noodles onto the fork, and begins to prod my mouth with it. 

“cmon honey, just a bite. it’s not like it’s poison, you literally just cooked it,” she presses. i start to shake my head, so she moves the fork and instead swoops in for a kiss. i return her advances eagerly. hoping it distracts her. she moves her head down, pressing open mouthed kisses to my neck, and my mouth falls open. i don’t realize she’s noticed that until she’s setting the forkful of food between my lips and lightly closing them.

“it’s one bite, ma. let’s get it eaten, then you can be done.” i chew, not really having the choice to run and spit it out. once i swallow, she beams at me.

“such a good girl, baby. i’m so proud of you.”

at some point, she wins

“come here now, baby,” paige demands, grasping me by the waist and yanking me in front of her. i’d been about to climb into the shower when she spotted me through the bathroom mirror, stripped down to nothing. she’d grabbed me, pulled me into my room, and positioned us in front of the full-length mirror to the side.

“you see how perfect you are? how pretty?” she mumbles into my ear. i let my eyes flutter shut as she snakes her hand down my body, stopping to circle her finger over my clit. a groan slips out from my lips, and she stops.

“alright, i want you to keep on looking right in the mirror, ma. want you to see how perfectly you take my fingers.” i writhe against her, trying to keep my eyes open and hold myself up at the same time. she plunges three fingers into me. i cry out, locking eyes with her in the mirror, she smirks, the same way she always does when drawing a climax from me. i go boneless. if she hadn’t been holding me so tightly, i would be on the floor.

“now can you see how amazing you are? you don’t gotta change anything about you, i’ll love you no matter what. you should stop listening to what others say, because people that love you, like me, want you, no matter what you look like. i, personally, think you’re perfect. i’ll love you till the day my lungs give out, and even then, i’ll use my last breath to say it again.”

after that, it happens less often. some days, i still forget to eat, and some days even looking at a scale makes me want to throw up. but paige is always there. she’s always there to hold me, or help me eat just a little bit, or to help me lay down and relax after i’ve panicked so hard ive puked into the toilet. one day, looking at her from across the couch, i realize that when she told me she’d love me no matter what, she was telling the truth.

[ghxstmxchine]

ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇꜱ

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: letting myself be a teensy bit self indulgent on my first post bc this is my favorite thing ever. super excited to start posting more on here!

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: SFW // includes: Miles, Hobie, Miguel & Pavitr (x gn!reader) // w.c: 0.8k

ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ

Not the biggest fan of people stealing his clothes especially when everything he owns means so much to him, but when it comes to you, he’s always willing to make exceptions

He might be a bit shocked when you show up wearing the jacket he’s been tearing his room apart looking for, but he’s quick to reassure you that you can keep it and even wants you to take it

It’s different when it comes to you, he knows it comes from a place of love. You adore him so much that you want at least something of his to keep with you, especially with how busy his schedule tends to be

It’s not a one way agreement though, he most definitely returns the sentiment by taking something of yours. He likes having something that reminds him of you, it makes him feel safer sometimes

Will completely deny that it’s yours whenever you point it out, but his smile is giving him away as you chase him around trying to reclaim your jacket.

“Miles, is that my jacket?” “No? I bought this.” “It’s literally my jacket.” “Okay, then why does it fit me so well? Might as well be mine” “Miles…”

Goes clothes shopping but keeps you in mind while buying stuff

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ

Always so quick to compliment how something of his looks on you, He can’t help but be such a flirt and it’s a nice surprise to see something he loves on someone he loves, he has to make sure you know how good you look 

When it comes to things such as his battle vest, he offers to make you one or at least teach you but you stubbornly only take his which he teases you for plenty because you can’t seem to get enough of him

Since you both seem to be sharing it anyways, he’ll let you add on pins or patches that you like. He also never complains if you accidentally tear it because it’s just an excuse to add another patch

When he takes your clothes he’s very loud and proud about it, walking around shamelessly in something you own. (“Don’t I look good? Almost looks better on me, don’t you think love?)

Claims that your clothes are much more comfortable than his but he’s not one to ever care about buying new things so he definitely takes advantage of anything you may have just bought

He’s very careful with your clothes, it’s almost a miracle how he never gets anything (dirt, makeup, blood, etc.) on it. For someone so punk he's so stubborn with keeping your things clean & undamaged

ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ

He’s tricky, he’ll be a bit annoyed if it’s anything he needs at the moment but doesn’t complain if it’s anything else. He might make a comment about making sure not to ruin it but with the way he’s looking at you all day, you know he’s all bark and no bite

Flips some possessive switch on in his head and suddenly he’s looking at you like you’re some meal, he gets a lot more touchy when he sees you in something of his but won’t admit it

Even when he asks you to give it back to him by the end of the day, he never pesters you about it again, too busy staring at how good you look

Very, very rarely will ever take anything that’s yours. Half of the time it’s on accident when he’s trying to find something of his in the dark bedroom, and it’s even harder to get him to admit that it’s yours

He’s too scared he’ll ruin something of yours if he gets into a fight, especially since you take such good care of what you steal from him. He’d rather accept small things like bracelets or rings to wear

Make him one of those friendship bracelets and he’ll wear it till it falls apart

ᴘᴀᴠɪᴛʀ ᴘʀᴀʙʜᴀᴋᴀʀ

Will completely gush for hours about how good you look in anything of his. He feels so honored that you chose something of his to wear, especially if it makes you feel comfortable

He just can’t get over it, he’s such a hopeless romantic and you wearing his clothes is automatically so romantic to him. He’s also super quick to offer up something of his if you ever need it

It always smells so good, he takes super good care of his belongings and has a very distinct cologne he wears that rubs off on everything he wears. Also his clothes are super soft, overall they’re very comfortable

He’s not one to take anything without asking, he could be freezing to death and still make sure with you that it’s okay for him to take a jacket. He’s very big on respecting others’ belongings

Wears your jacket with him on patrol sometimes, much like Miles he finds it comforting to have something from you while he’s patrolling, especially on taxing days

Washes and folds everything before returning it to you because he’s just an absolute sweetheart. He’ll let you keep anything of his for as long as you want, he’s not one to complain