#I THOUGHT THE POSTS ABOUT THAT WERE JOKES

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I had surgery a few weeks ago and I’m definitely hitting a wall mentally. I’ve been so sad with recovery and I’m so exhausted and cranky (unfortunately). I was wondering if you could write an emt!marauders or poly!marauders w reader going through that?? Thank you! Your writing has been a huge comfort for me during this time 🩷

Hi lovely! I realize it's been a while since you sent this so I hope you're feeling much much better now! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: post-op recovery, shoulder injury

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

James enters the bedroom to witness three stages of wakefulness. There’s Remus where he left him, fluffy haired and squinty eyed scrolling through his phone. One of Remus’ hands is toying idly with the ends of Sirius’ hair, who’s still dead asleep next to him, on his stomach with his face pushing into the pillow (James has never been able to figure out how he can breathe like that). Then there’s you, just sitting up with a groan and a sour look on your face. His angel. 

“Here, love.” James sets the coffee he’d brought for Remus on the nightstand, making sure the handle is facing him. Remus’ thanks is croaky with drowsiness, his smile gentle. James says to you, “Morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Hard,” you mumble. You shrug your one shoulder experimentally, and grimace. “Too hard.” 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, looking at you over the rim of his mug. “Did you sleep on it wrong?” 

“No.” You sound a tad defensive. “I was on my back all night.” 

Remus hums. “This is what happens when you don’t do your stretches at night, dovey.” 

You scowl. James ruffles Remus’ hair. “Be nice,” he chides. “You could do some stretching now, angel.” 

Sirius makes a disgruntled sleepy sound, rolling onto his side to wrap his arms around your waist. He settles his head contentedly on the plushness of your thigh. “Everyone shut up,” he grumbles. “And stop getting up.” 

“We’re not getting up,” James placates him. “She’s only doing her stretches.” 

“But it hurts,” you whine. 

“That’s why you do your stretches, sweetheart.” Remus gives you a look. 

James can feel you getting irritated. You’ve been recovering from your surgery for weeks now, and you’re growing exhausted not only with all the things you can’t do with your shoulder but also all the things you have to do to build back its strength and mobility. He goes to the dresser as you slump forward into your own lap, hapless. 

“Come on,” he laughs, tossing you your towel. “You can start with the towel one first. That one’s fit.” 

You look up at James. “It is not.” 

“Y’always look good, babe,” Sirius mumbles into your thigh. 

“See? And extra good when you stretch your arms like that.”

“He’s dead to the world.” You roll your eyes, though you’re petting Sirius’ hair fondly. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

Still, you sigh and pick up the towel when Remus nudges it towards you pointedly, rolling your neck in preparation. James feels a bit of warmth come to his face (he was only partly joking about how attractive you are when you stretch). 

It’s a bit difficult for you at first, clearly, the result of growing a bit lax about your stretches over the past few days. James can see Remus’ lips press together like he’s physically restraining himself from commenting on it. A low whine builds in your throat. 

“There you go,” says Sirius in a salacious tone. James is beginning to suspect he’s more awake than he’s letting on. “Tell us how you really feel, sweetheart.” 

“This is so pointless,” you grumble. “It’s too lame to do anything.” 

“Don’t say that,” James chides you. It’s not his intention to make you feel like you can’t vent to them, but James is firmly of the belief that ceasing negative talk will eventually lead to an abatement of negative thoughts. “It’s working, you just need to give it time. You’re tons better than you were a couple of weeks ago, right?” 

“If you mean I can pick up an empty soda can,” you say drily, “then yes.” 

“That is what I mean. Empty soda cans are a big step.” 

“It’s a process,” Remus tells you in a more placating tone. “You can’t expect to be all the way better overnight. Especially not if you’re not doing your stretches.” 

You don’t miss the judgment threaded through that last bit, your expression turning sour again. Sirius appears to sense this without opening his eyes. He hugs you around the middle, smearing a kiss over your thigh. 

“You’ll get there, lovie,” says James. “And hey, if it’ll help, I can sit with you while you do your stretches every day. I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

Remus snorts, and Sirius mumbles something into your skin that sounds like “I’ll bet you wouldn’t.”

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[endearng]

About you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x ex!reader Summary: You know a place that you go to remember Spencer Reid's face. You never thought you'd get to actually see him again. WC: 4.6k Warnings: brief mentions of Spencer's trauma (childhood, addiction); hints at poor coping mechanisms/mental struggles; miscommunication; running away. A/N: This is a mix between canon events and some things are fiction (mostly when it comes to the timeline of the show) and I picture later seasons Spencer. This is based on many songs from ttpd, but this fic came to mind when I was listening to 'About You' by the 1975. I really hope you guys like it. Feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated <3 masterlist

You sat on one of the park benches. Actually, it was on the park bench, near a tree, you used to occupy with Spencer after getting your favorite treats from the coffee shop nearby.

It was your first date as boyfriend and girlfriend and he had started reading to you once the chatter had died down a little bit. He looked beautiful that day, eyes leaving the book pages every now and then so he could catch a glimpse of you. Every time he did, you smiled at him. You were so enamored by his eyes that you didn't care if you were perceived as desperate or too lovestruck when he looked at you. You felt warm inside and for a moment, you thought it could last forever.

From that day on, whenever you could, you'd always go to that park and sit on that specific bench. You even carved your initials in it.

Now, as you caressed the old indentation, dark from all the time that had passed, you were all alone. A hole in your chest.

You were living in Virginia, about to get your Master's Degree. It was the time of the semester when everything seems to be piling up and you can never get the time to take care of it as you should. As you walked home at night, you witnessed a young couple walking into a dark forest, but you didn't mind — horny kids were everywhere and you were glad they had a nice way to let off some steam, not being one to judge someone’s kinks.

The next thing you knew, the FBI wanted to see you. They sent a cute, awfully young agent to your apartment, who introduced himself as 'Doctor Spencer Reid' and waved at you once you answered the door, telling you you had been the last person to witness that young woman alive. You froze, unable to look away from him, sheer shock crossing your intriguing, mesmerizing features. Spencer Reid took more than a minute to try to calm you down to have you answer his questions. Despite your head going miles per minute, you tried to help out as much as you could and were able to describe the man as you managed to recall some of his features.

Then, you had gotten Spencer's number to keep him posted if anything happened, since that unsub was kidnapping and torturing girls from your university. When they wrapped up the case to go home, Spencer went to your building to tell you they were returning to Quantico. You had grown fond of him, his presence a warm embrace compared to the chaos around you, so when he broke the news, you did feel a little disappointed, even though you knew that he would eventually leave. He was sensible to the matters around him, doing everything in his power and using his intelligence to help everyone around him. It made you grow a sense of hope in other people you haven’t felt in a while.

You took your study break a little earlier that night once you saw him at your doorstep, deciding you'd give him your time. A low "So, you're leaving..." escaping your mouth once he told you why he went to your place. To say goodbye. You couldn't conceal the sadness in your voice.

"Yeah. I just wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you, of course, you helped us a lot." He said, eyes never leaving yours.

"Anytime, Doctor," you joked. "I'm gonna miss you. Even if we've just met. Even if you had to be aware of something so terrible." You confessed. His eyes widened at you in surprise.

His eyes. Big, doe eyes glancing at you like you held the answers to the whole universe.

In that moment, you did. Not his education, not PhD's, plural, not anything he learned from all the books he read and certainly not his time in the bureau. You held the answers.

He chuckled, a little shy. Unable to tell you, verbally, that he would miss you, too. His eyes did the job, though. "Yeah, yeah. It was nice knowing you."

"Yeah, it was," you agreed, coming a little closer to him. You gave him a kiss on his cheek. Soft, warm skin against your lips making butterflies swarm in your belly. He smiled, widely, sincerely.

You wished he was yours.

You also wished he knew that you meant that, 'besides the bad guy and all the terrible things, it was fun meeting you because you are full of light. A masterpiece.'

"Take care, okay, doctor?" You whispered, slowly pulling away from him. “I’ll see you around.”

"Be safe,” he wished, “I hope so, in better conditions."

A few days passed and you got your first call from Spencer, which turned into a second, a third and when you noticed, you were scheduling hang outs. Those turned into dates when you started to go out more frequently to every new place you wanted the other to know. All of that and touching each other more often, more carefully, more passionately than regular friends did.

You simply sat there, your memories the only thing keeping you company, haunting you, besides the tears that pricked in the corner of your eyes. You missed him so much. You missed the time you had with him.

Two years into your relationship, things got more and more complicated. You struggled to keep up with his life and more often than not you seemed to keep much to yourselves instead of sharing things with each other. You never thought you'd share (funny wording) such a distant relationship with someone, let alone one you knew for sure there was so much love and respect. During your time together, you learned about Spencer’s past and some pieces fell into place; he was somehow explained by everything he had faced as a child, teenager and now as an adult — his mother’s condition, his dad walking away, the bullying, being abducted and its consequences. You held him through it all, when the memories and feelings of powerlessness washed over him.

Then, Spencer started to be away more often and the physical distance, enforced by the emotional one that slowly grew between you two, made you feel like you were an intruder in his life. So, you gradually started to hold yourself back from starting conversations. You rarely had his attention and you figured it was because his mind was always elsewhere.

Yours was, too. Back in a time when things were simpler.

As time went by, being around him, too quiet and far out of each other’s reach, simply floating in his orbit, felt like a heavy burden you had to carry in order to keep him in your life. He never opened up and since you didn’t either, you felt like you didn't have the right to suggest you two should fix things, so you let him be. Coexisting together in the same space, oceans apart from each other’s lives and struggles, never touching the subject. The result, of course, was that you grew apart.

It all ended, officially, when you decided to move away to get your Doctorate as an excuse to run away from the hard conversations that you knew would take place if you confronted him about where had things, where had you gone so terribly wrong. You were hell-bent on trying to turn your heartbreak and deception into something, into an achievement. Then, you both decided, albeit reluctantly, that breaking up was the best choice for you, since you’d move away. The part that there was already a huge gap between the two of you remained unspoken. You tried convincing yourself that it would be easier, since you’d never have to see him and you'd be okay being in past chapters of Spencer’s life. 

Funnily enough, it wasn't that simple.

You see, the heart is a tricky machine. The wording here is not random: it works, of course, to primarily pump the blood through your veins to make sure you are getting enough oxygen around your body and deliver waste objects, like carbon dioxide, back to the lungs, to be removed — Spencer had told you so once when you told him your heart beat for him in a corny deliver of a joke. Despite the fact that he was right, you can never anticipate how the heart will react once it has no access to the aim of its affections, after being cut off from their life. Worse: after being slowly dragged away from the one it was sure it would be able to adore for the rest of its pumping-function life. You figured that, maybe it would continue working for as long as it needs to, but not with the same devotion it once knew and now was deprived of.

That was how you passed the last few years of your life.

After Spencer, you weren't really interested in anyone. You tried to put yourself out there, made new friends, tried dating some people, traveled abroad, discovered more about yourself. Nevertheless, in the back of your hopeless mind and dejected heart, you held the memories you had created with him close to your very soul. When things got too quiet, it was him that you thought of. On a train, on the way home or to somewhere new and/or special, in the lazy mornings you spent by yourself, in the nights that got too lonely to bear by yourself, during your lunch breaks that you always seemed to remember how much he loved sharing those with you — stealing food from his plate, even if you didn't like whatever he was having, just so he could steal your dessert to make sharing equal. He got a sweet tooth after dating you.

Now, though, something felt off. You had spent years of your life pining and longing and hoping that you'd find your way back to each other in the end that now you didn't have the guts to search for him. You kept an eye on his life and could remember a thing or two of all his achievements and papers that were published in science magazines, a brief abstract ready to roll off your tongue if someone asked you about it. You tried keeping up with his professional life in order to feel closer to him, but the thing was, you didn't know if he had someone else, if he had moved on more easily than you (not that you had), if he had learned to cope a little better with the hardships of his job. You always said he needed some rest for his noisy mind.

Even the air in your hometown made you think of him. Felt like him: distant, missed and still plaguing your thoughts. It was the aftermath of running away for some time.

In hindsight, perhaps you had only shared fleeting moments with Spencer and it was a frail affair, doomed from day one, knowing how different your lifestyles were. When you got too fed up with your longing and inner romanticism over this relationship, you would try to convince yourself that you were better off without him. That being alone was better than to be by yourself in a relationship that you only kept for the sake of calling him yours.

Still, there was something missing. You didn't know what it was, but you were tired of wasting your time, waiting for a bus that never showed.

Or maybe it did, and perhaps you had missed it.

From afar, Spencer watched, dumbfounded, a figure that resembled someone he once loved so much, sitting on the bench he used to share with you. He still does love. Or maybe he doesn't. He doesn't know, really. He's been through so much, losing loved ones, losing his mother and enduring several trauma after leaving the FBI, never having the time to properly take in the happenings in his life. Could it possibly be you? He could never forget your form, no matter how many years passed and how hard he had tried to do that. His heart started slowing, oxygen lacking in his lungs. He felt dizzy. Was it a mirage?

Memories started to flood his mind and he was unable to move.

Daylight faded, announcing the beginning of the evening. Spencer listened as you read to him one of your favorite novels, The Hour of the Star, a Brazilian novel by Clarice Lispector. It definitely wasn't romantic, but you always made sure to use the correct tone whenever you were reading the characters' lines, and you paused every now and then to make comments and listened when he had one of his own. Those were precious, rare, quiet moments in his hectic life. He cherished them because of that, of course, but most importantly because you were with him.

Once you finished the chapter you were reciting, you noticed how dark it already was and that the lights of the city were already on, casting a soft glow over Spencer. He looked exceptionally, effortlessly beautiful that night. You smiled at him. "Shall we go home, Spence?"

"Yes," he accepted, helping you up. You thanked him with a kiss to his cheek, which made him flustered.

Years together and he could never get used to the effect your touch had on him, always wishing he could have more, more, more.

As you walked home together, he took your ring, a gift from him that was usually placed in your left hand, and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. Your reply was to kiss him senseless in public.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when you abruptly broke the kiss, looking back with a mischievous, happy expression on your face. He trailed after you, one single thought in mind: I'll never let you go.

The woman — he didn't want to deceive himself if she wasn't you, he was staring at her back, after all, so he thought it was better to be careful with his hopes —, had longer hair, fit better into her clothes, but her movements were scarily just like yours. From the way she looked around to the slight tilt of her head when you'd contemplate the park all those years ago. Spencer felt his thoughts clouding with the need to approach her, curiosity driving him to work on this instinct, but as soon as he moved to walk, he instantly halted his movements. What would he say?

"Hello?", "Is that you?" "Are you back?" "Are you real?" "Have you forgotten about me?"

The questions swimmed around his head like he had no control over his own mind. If there was a monitor to show every single thought running through his brain, it would definitely collapse, smoke clouding the air, telling how overwhelmed he felt. He decided on approaching as a passerby, walking as if he didn't want anything by it, acting nonchalant. He made his way closer to the bench, to the woman. 

She heard footsteps behind her, not too close, but still turned to search for the source of the disturbance, out of her daydreaming. You looked at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity — time stopped, the children stopped playing and the passersby stopped breathing.

As you turned around, your eyes found Spencer. The love of your life. You took in his appearance. His hair was long, unlike how it had been when you last saw him, and he didn't care about styling it as much as he did when he was younger, his curls unruly and a little messy, a little stubble growing on his face. His expression looked harder now, more tired, ripe. You couldn't quite know how to describe him properly. For a moment, you considered that he had hardened over the years, opposite from the caring, soft man you've met and loved ardently once.

On a surface level, looking at him made you feel like you've been loving a ghost. A memory, something that could never return.

Your mind suddenly felt empty. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You?" You heard the question, uncertain, leave his lips in a low voice. Was it in your head or did you sense hurt?

Again, you wanted to speak, to say something, greet him, tell him you've missed him, ask him if he was okay. Nothing came out. Everything seemed inappropriate. Again, he beat you to it, coming closer to you, voice firmer. "What are you... I thought you'd left."

"I did."

"I know."

Silence. He got closer, moving to sit beside you.

"Yeah." Silence. Still looking at each other. "I came back a couple of months ago. Started visiting exactly three weeks ago, today." You revealed to break the silence, even though the idea that everything that came out of your mouth was improper still plagued your mind.

Spencer felt baffled. You looked different, more mature, even your style had drastically changed — you once wore colorful, baggier outfits, full of life and bright shades matching your personality (you even went shopping with Penelope and you exchanged fashion tips), but now, you wore more sober, neutral tones. Instead of the usual sneakers, or the Converse you both loved to wear together to match your outfits — his black and yours blue —, you wore black boots with heels. You looked grown. And it fit you. Still, your face was the same: your eyes held the same glimmer in them from all those years ago, your lips still as inviting as it ever was for him.

He licked his own, realizing his mouth was dry. "I come here every now and then when things get too heated." He confided, eyes never leaving your figure.

You smiled. A hole in his chest, desolation invading his being. The simple act still makes his machine of a heart ache and speed to reach its full capacity. Of breaking for you. "It's peaceful."

You knew that he seeked solace from whatever was happening in your memories together in that place. At least, you hoped so. You hoped, selfishly, that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, of his ghost. That he ached for you as much as you ached for him.

"Yeah."

Awkward silence engulfed the two of you. You didn't know where to look, but you could never stop scanning his face, taking in his features with care. "I like your hair. It fits you," you said.

He got closer, less than an arm's length between the two of you. Almost itching for you to touch his hair, eyes pleading for some mercy on your end. You've been awfully quiet and if meeting him maim you, you certainly have improved your poker face skills. "You've changed," he retorted. "I never thought I'd see you so different from, you know..."

You didn’t remember Spencer at a loss of words.

Too close. "I hope for the better."

"Why didn't you call?" He asked, brows furrowing.

Come to think of it, it was an excuse you had rehearsed quite a few times when you imagined this scenario, “I was settling, still trying to contact everyone, still finding my way around…”

“And you didn’t think of me?” His tone was wounded. He certainly dreamed you’d come back and was positively sure that you’d reach out to him. Of course, he was wrong.

“Of course I did. I just thought you wouldn't pick up,” you replied.

He didn’t know what to say. Of course he would pick up, but there was no way you could know about it nor trust him if he said so; why would you? You had left him because he built walls around him, cutting you off from his life, torturing you, slowly dragging the end of your relationship and he couldn’t explain why. Once you left, Spencer delved into his work life like never before. He flirted with women and even slept around, which he was aware was a poor coping mechanism, all to outrun the desertion of you, desperately wishing he could forget that he could feel alive in your presence. He even tried having a relationship. It was nice having someone around, now that he was grown and had made peace with some of his demons, but it was never like you and it was all that she was to him: someone around. He never felt that spark with her like he had felt with you, never again having a taste of the sensation that ran through him whenever he stumbled excitedly into your apartment when you invited him over, seizing the rare opportunities to be with you, happiness bubbling inside him. With his new girlfriend, it was quiet. He mistook it for the calmness he lacked within himself when he was with you, but it was just bland. Needless to say, he felt awful about straight up using a person to keep his mind off of you, but it was nice while it worked. He started longing for something he couldn’t even describe what it was.

One day, you guys met halfway, between the two cities you were both in. It was raining and you launched yourself into his arms once you recognized him. You had kissed him like a soldier's wife, for you sure definitely missed him like one — he had been away on a case which took longer than usual. “Hi,” you greeted, shyly, after giving him the hottest kiss of his life.

“Hi,” he smiled, a little flushed.

“I couldn't wait to get to you, Spence,” you confessed, arms pulling him back to hug you once again, his own engulfing your figure. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I miss you all the time.” He said, burying his face into the crook of your neck, wet hair prickling on his skin. He peeled himself away from you, taking a deep breath. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

The squealed “Yes!” before you kissed him ardently once more was forever ingrained into his mind.

Amidst his reverie, you stood up from your seat. The wind tousled your hair slightly, so you used your left hand to tuck it behind your ear. The street lights reflected their light on a ring you had on your left hand. He recognized it instantly. “I should go,” you murmured, slightly graceless.

“You still have it.”

You looked at him, still sitting and nodded softly. You were hit with the realization that he also remembered you. It didn’t matter that it was such a small thing about you, relief flooded your veins at the very thought that he thought of you. “I do.”

You waved at him, your lips turned upwards shyly. You turned your back and started walking away from him. Again, he thought. And again, he let you, without putting up a fight, which he was aware that he should have done. The elephant in his chest was a light weight compared to the heavy truth dancing around in his throat. Said truth would become much bigger, a heavier burden for him to carry, once it made its way out of him. Speaking made it real. He knew it because every memory that he kept of you, in a sacred, untouched area of his own consciousness, was full of comfort after sharing uncomfortable truths.

It was like his heart screamed at him to keep searching, to keep trying for the person who made it beat faster. But his brain, foggy with all the logic and terrible, horrid things he had to face, decided it was best to keep himself away from you, to save himself the trouble of being the target of pity, or worse, being another person who left him.

From that day on, you’d casually visit the park, secretly wishing you could see him more. It didn't take too long until your wishes were granted, no matter how private you thought they were. Perhaps they were all over your face and he could still read you so easily. Despite the apparent capacity of reading your wants, you were positively sure that Spencer didn't know what to say, just like you. Everything, including him, felt as distant as you had left it. You weren't sure if you could go back, but running away was just as troublesome: you had to adapt in order to survive, but everyone else surrounding you was already fit to the environment. You stuck out like a sore thumb, unable to connect with anyone but the protagonist from past memories of what once was a happy relationship.

Every time you were there, you sensed someone looking at you shortly after your arrival. It was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you, to try to talk things through without rushing into anything, trying to conquer the other's forgiveness by sharing both ordinary and big moments you had during your time apart. As you sat down and talked and shared, you realized that you'd never stop loving him, not even for a second, not even if you could. You had tried and failed, and kept coming back for more to fall in love with the same person over and over.

These encounters quickly turned into the best moments of Spencer's weeks, getting to be filled in on the things he had missed in your life. You had shown him photos, your new degree, new friends, discussed details about your job and how things were in your family. All of that wrapped in intricate, subtle details on how much you'd turned into a person he was already feeling proud of. You had grown into a strong-willed woman who managed to keep your heart as pure as the day you had met him. You still had the traits that made you fall in love with him.

One day, you two were sitting on the bench and you pointed to your initials on it. “Heh, I remember that day. You kept worrying someone was going to show up and stop me from doing it.”

He smiled. “I'm glad no one did.”

“It's funny, isn't it?” You asked, eyes on the indentation, not expecting him to answer due the lack of context. He frowned. “I mean, us. Acting like we don't know each other just for the sake of spending time together.”

He thought for a moment. With your shameless comment, you were definitely daring him to say something. Daring him to make things real, but better this time. “I like that idea,” he said, getting you to look at him. “Don't you? We get to meet each other again. I get to meet you again and I get to make sure that, this time, I'll never let you go.”

“You still don't know me enough to say that with such sureness,” you said, feeling bashful all of a sudden. It was also one of your behaviors that got him so enthralled, once again. Your capacity of saying something and then act coyly, as if you didn't know what he was talking about. Almost backtracking on whatever you had said that was a little more risky than the usual chatter.

He wouldn't let you.

“I want to.”

His tone made you speechless. Your expression turned into one of sheer, pure enchantment. It told him everything he needed to know.

Everything bad was now under the bridge and you could finally have each other back after being so patient.

He now remembered what it was that he missed so dearly in his life.

You.

[sainzfav]

❝︎ must be fate ❞︎ … joe burrow pt.1

left you out there standing

summary - after a tragic loss to the ravens, joe finds himself pissed and frustrated. on the contrary, a marylander visiting her parents, getting a break from the busy new york life finds herself crossing paths with a certain quarter back

pairing - joe burrow x fem!reader

song inspo - n/a

warnings! - cursing, alcohol

word count - 1.4K

authors note - this takes place at the november 7th, 2024 game when the bengals played the ravens!

"Fuck"

Joe said under his breath. The Bengals lost 35-34 to the Ravens.

"It's just an away game, man, we'll get them next time, trust," Alex said, coming up behind Joe.

"Alex, we were up for half the fucking game, then because we got lazy, we lost," Joe said, pissed off about the outcome of the game.

It was true; they got lazy. It started off great for the Bengals. The Ravens weren't playing well, and that was enough to get two touchdowns ahead, but the fourth quarter came, and the Bengals got lazy. Even when the Ravens threw a touchdown pass instead of wasting time, leaving the Bengals with about a minute of playtime, the Bengals still managed to lose.

"I don't want to hear any fucking excuses, we lost cause we were dumb and lazy, now get out of my face."

Joe's tone was sharp and angry. There was no "bright side" to this situation. They had the perfect opportunity to win and didn't take it.

-

*liked by alexconsani, charlidamelio, and 1.6M+ others*

ynofficial gotta love a w

"Wow Y/n, over 1.5 mill already, you're insane"

Y/n whipped her head around.

"Maya, you're fucking joking... 1.5 million?! There's no way"

"How are you surprised? People love a good casual post, anyway, what's the plan for tonight? Are we going out, back to your parent's house? What are we doing?"

"I feel like we have to go out, right? Plus, I wanna show you the bars around Baltimore. We could do a little bar hopping night, how does that sound?"

"Oh my god, perf" Maya exclaims, going back to scrolling on her phone.

Maya and Y/n had been friends since college, and she was truly the one person who treated Y/n like a normal person.

Y/n then connected her phone to the car to play her music through.

"Play some Pitbull, I want to get hype for the bars," Maya says loudly from the backseat. Y/n chuckles and rolls her eyes while finding a good Pitbull song to put on.

-

"Joe, some of the guys and I are going out, how about you join us. I know it was a shitty game, but going to a bar or somethin' is probably better than sitting alone like a loner," Tee says, reaching to the seat in front of him, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"I'll think about it"

"Well, hurry up, cause once we get back to the hotel, we're all gonna shower and get ready and shit to go out"

"Yeah, alright"

Joe was honestly not as much of a "going out" person as some of his other teammates, but going out to distract from the shit game that just happened did seem appealing.

-

The sound of the music and conversation filled Y/n's ears the second she and Maya stepped into the bar. The electric atmosphere was impossible to ignore, and a feeling of excitement flooded over Y/n.

"This is the best bar in Baltimore; the vibes are always so good, and their drinks are the best," Y/n tells Maya.

After about 45 minutes, Maya is gone, nowhere to be seen, leaving Y/n on a bar stool as she drinks the last of her vodka cranberry.

Just as Y/n is about to order another drink, she feels a presence next to her. She turns her head and notices a familiar figure.

Joe fucking Burrow?! Y/n thinks to herself. What a coincidence, holy shit.

Joe Burrow was the last person Y/n expected to see at a bar. Actually, she hadn't even thought about it once, but here she was.

He looked pretty pissed, which made sense after tonight's game. Just then, a loud voice came closer to where Y/n was sitting.

"Joe! Whatcha order?"

It was Tee Higgins, whose mood was the complete opposite of Joe's.

"I don't know, hey... Mike? What's your best drink?" Joe asks the bartender, reading the name tag.

"It's basic, but how about an Old Fashioned? Can't go wrong with that"

"Yeah, alright, I'll have that"

Joe then glances over and gives Y/n a weak smile, then looks down to notice her Ray Lewis jersey, chuckling to himself as he looks down at the bar table.

Y/n notices his face and immediately feels awkward.

"Would you like another vodka cranberry miss?" The bartender asks

"Oh, uh, yes, please, that would be great!" Y/n says, getting caught off guard by the bartender, still feeling awkward about sitting next to Joe.

Should have planned to go out and wear something other than a fucking jersey. This is so fucking awkward.

"Good night for you guys, huh?" Joe suddenly says, breaking the awkward silence between the two.

"Yeah, and rough one for you?"

"Yup. So, you from around here? Not to be weird or anything"

Y/n smirks at his comment. For a star, Quarter Back, he's a little awkward and shy.

"Sorta, I mean, I'm from Maryland, Annapolis to be specific, but I live in New York"

"Oh nice, what brought you to New York?"

"Work, I'm an actress, so everything I do is pretty much over there and on occasion, LA"

Never in a million years did I think I would be making small talk with Joe Burrow at a local bar in Baltimore, but here we are.

"Oh sick, how is that life? It seems like it would be crazy"

Y/n chuckles at his response. Being an actress is not a normal job by any means, and it's always so chaotic, but it's Y/n's passion.

"It is, but I wouldn't give it up for the world"

"That's pretty cool"

Just then a loud, drunk Maya comes over.

"Holy shit, Y/n, I met the hottest guy, and he bought me a drink, but then it turns out he has a girlfriend, well, they also just broke up because he bought me a drink, and oh my god, is that Joe Burrow?"

Joe starts laughing a little while Y/n covers her face in embarrassment. Maya was probably the most outgoing person Y/n knew. She was never afraid to speak her every thought, which sometimes led to awkwardness.

"Y/n, pretty name"

Y/n blushes at Joe's compliment, catching her completly off guard.

"Thanks," She says kindly, still partially embarrassed of Maya's story.

"Well, if you don't mind, Joe Burrow, I'm taking my best friend dancing, so kiss your goodbyes, and Y/n lets go"

"Hold on, let me get your number. I've had a shitty day on top of a shitty week, and our conversation, although short, has been nice."

Was Joe Burrow really asking for my number?

"Uh, yeah"

He then gives Y/n his phone for her to type in her number. After she adds her contact, Maya practically pulls her arm off, dragging her away from the bar, leaving her drink and Joe behind.

-

The next day, Y/n woke up to a line of texts from Maya.

Maya: Heyyyy, Y/n, so I know I said I would get an Uber back to your house, but I'm at a guy's apartment right now.

Maya: You up, Y/n? I assume you're still in bed, actually, but I'm at this guy Derek's apartment, just letting you know.

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Well, love you, I'll be back at your parents sometime today.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Y/n rubs her eyes, trying to wake up more and make sense of Maya.

Just then she get's another text.

Rolling her eyes, expecting Maya, she checks her texts.

Instead, it's an unnamed number.

(513)111-1111: Hey, it's Joe!

Y/n sits up immediately. Sure, she gave him her number, but she didn't expect him to actually text her.

Holy shit

Y/n: Hey! It's Y/n

Joe: Yeah, I remember haha

Joe: Also, how's your friend? I saw you leaving the bar, but she stayed with this guy, who, and I mean no disrespect, looked like a douche...

Y/n: She's fine, at least I'm pretty sure. She texted me this morning that she's at this guy Derek's house, and she seems fine. She said she'll be coming back to my parent's house sometime today. All is good, haha. Thanks for asking, though!

Joe: Okay that's good. Well I gotta do some shit for press, but I'll talk to you later, Y/n.

Y/n: Have fun! ;)

And with that, Y/n turns off her phone, all of a sudden smelling the sweet smell of bacon from downstairs.

[carnations8delight]

Omg, i didnt think you’d answer!  

You saying that you don’t like to be misunderstood, resonated with me SO much, because I am the exact same way!

So I want you to know that I hear you. I understand you. It’s very important for people like us to feel very understood.

Been a directioner since 2011, never been to a concert so Liam’s death is especially devastating.

I believed in larrie as a joke. But then there were some proof that I thought was kind of real?

I don’t really know much about that now, but it’s the same thing as you, I’ve come to the conclusion, that “why is it my business?”

It’s not.

Especially because I saw how a lot of 1D fans went mental over it, crying in their posts literally live posting their meltdown over “larry allowing themselves to be closeted by Simon.” Which by the way doesn’t make sense now in 2024.

Then I saw them trying to hack Louis and his girlfriends, same thing with Harry!

Not to mention the “I hope your baby dies.” Incident.

And I just think to myself, if it has you going crazy like that you should allow yourself to take a step back because this was supposed to be about fun. Fun and music, everything else was just extra.

I know, we basically like to characterize them for convenience, but these are real people with real lives and feelings, And once I realized that, I wasn’t gonna let myself get too caught up.

And I’m so glad that people are talking about parasocialism. Directioners were way to comfortable stalking 1D’s family members, and friends, making fanfics and edits about them.

Buts It’s especially prevalent in kpop, where companies feed into the delusion of stans by sometimes catering to their online hate trains.

Omg im not gonna go on a tangent but, as an international you probably already know because it’s started to reach further parts of the Internet.

Anyway thanks for letting me understand you, people very often misunderstand me, so I’ll try to understand others as much as I can.

Plus peeps rarely talk to me on this site, which isn’t upsetting it’s just a different change of pace from my other social medias that have too much activity, so it’s kinda special. 

Hey unpopular opinion but the 1D boys DO NOT owe you any sort of liam tribute. They don't owe you a song they record together. Not a tribute concert. Not individual songs on upcoming albums. they dont owe you the discussion of their grief on stage. Or if you meet them. Or in interviews. Louis literally discussed how absolutely insufferable it is to recount his grief in interviews time and time again. Its absolutely insane the fact you expect them to talk about major grief while they are AT WORK. Like imagine being at your job or some corporate event and some person you barely know asks you, while you are working, on the clock, how you are dealing with a family members death. the group of unhinged psychologically challenged women creating a "fan project" or printing liams face to take to zayns shows is psychotic and deranged and frankly i think zayn malik should be legally allowed to come down from stage and bash your skulls in. I sure know i want to. I pray zayns team sees the tweets and his security denies those weirdos entry.

[friendlyneighborhoodamara]

Can't sleep so I'm gonna talk about Akane Tendo's reputation among fans. It's no secret I'm an Akane fan, and I'm glad that the fandom seems to be kinder to her today than in the past. In light of this, I'd like to address some of the common arguments people make or used to make against her.

For reference, a significant chunk of the humor in Ranma 1/2 involves Ranma, often intentionally, pissing Akane off, to the point that she hits him really, really hard. This is a pretty common comedic trope in shonen anime prior to like...I wanna say the 2010s? (I never watched Naruto since it looked bad but I am pretty sure that's Sakura and Naruto's dynamic.) Anyways, while I joined the fandom recently, I have learned that when the show came over to America in the early 90s, Akane was SUPER controversial for treating Ranma like this, with her critics calling her a violent domestic abuser and misandrist, and her reputation has only really recovered recently.

Now, if the "girl character beats up boy character in fit of rage" trope is something that isn't your taste in comedy, then it's not your taste in comedy. However, it's important to keep in mind qualifiers for Akane's behavior. Akane at the start of the series has been harassed by boys at her school who want to beat her up and force her to date them, leading to her having a justifiably poor perception of men and boys. Her hating boys and seeing the worst in them is very different from a man hating women due to patriarchal expectations, and even then she treats boys who are nice to her like Ryoga well.

Honestly, the only area where her dislike of boys gets kinda like morally problematic in my view is if you interpret Ranma as a trans girl: while I joked in an earlier post that Akane is a TERF, one could argue that, albeit unintentionally, Akane's negative reaction to seeing Ranma naked in her bathtub (even if accidentally) and then calling him/her a pervert plays on transphobic rhetoric against letting trans women use the women's restrooms like we're supposed to. (Humorously, most of the people mad at Akane seem to be, ah...not exactly fond of trans!Ranma headcanons, but I digress.) If other trans girls or our allies don't find the slapstick funny for that reason, fair enough, but I don't feel bothered by it given how most of the time Ranma gets hit it's for being legitimately rude and again the violence is very unrealistic.

Admittedly, if Ranma 1/2 had a more serious tone and grounded level of violence, Akane hitting Ranma would be abusive. But in the series, martial artists can walk off stuff like being crushed by a boulder, so Akane beating Ranma up by kicking him/her 50 feet into the sky because she thought he/she was trying to feel her up is not so much like domestic abuse and more akin to a wife giving her husband a light dope slap. Remember, much of the violence in this series is basically just that of a Tom and Jerry cartoon, albeit with an early Dragon Ball aesthetic. Furthermore, Ranma - as much as I love him/her as a character - is usually the instigator, with the wiki even having a list of the cruel nicknames he/she gives her, so it's not as if her actions are unwarranted:

There is, per some people, a gendered component to this discussion, that if the genders were flipped, this wouldn't be funny since Ranma doesn't hit Akane. Now, firstly, if you're a man and a 35-year-old anime not having a boy beat up a girl enough is your worst experience with "sexism", well...get over it. Secondly, in terms of wider media, men commit violence against women that is framed for laughs all the time (ex.: Miroku in Inuyasha, another Rumiko Takahashi series, is a male character where his running gag involves him groping women, which is a more realistic form of violence than anything Akane dishes out), so the notion that it's only women who hurt men in media for laughs is untrue. Thirdly, the notion that hitting Ranma is viewed as okay because "he's a boy" is dubious since he does canonically turn into a girl and Akane hits Ranma regardless of gende, and despite his claims to the contrary he/she doesn't really hate being a girl as much as he/she claims. As a concession, I will note that especially in the past some writers can be reluctant to show slapstick against women, but this is more due to internalized misogyny and viewing women as weak and needing protection. Personally, even assuming that Akane was a boy and Ranma was wholly a girl, I'd have no problem with the slapstick since it's clearly goofy and unrealistic.

Anyways, I'd like to conclude by saying (1) I am glad that I joined the fandom at a time when Akane is being perceived more and more fairly as a flawed but generally pretty nice and hilarious character who has a good deal of pathos despite the clearly slapstick-y nature of the series, and (2) thanks for reading this long, very sincere post.

[paymechildsupport]

hiii, how would you feel about a gojo x mreader sports au but they both play on the same team. Like hc’s about reader and gojo who are both on the same basketball team. I always see fics where just he’s on the team but I thought it would be interesting to see one where they both are. thanks!

Now hold on a second….

Gojo x M!Reader on the same basketball team // Hc’s

-!! SFW + NSFW hc’s,— you’re both in college

———☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

✮ Teammate!Satoru, whom you’ve always had the most insane chemistry with. Regardless of on the court or off, everybody knows you two have SOMETHING going on —

Some of the plays you pull off shouldn’t even be possible. You’re like a two man army. The two mvp’s of every team, an unstoppable force.

Varsity ever since freshman year of high school, and now you’re both in college and doing the sport you love most of all

You’re each other’s rocks, always there for one another. When he scores the winning basket you’re the first person he hugs,— full on SPRINTS across the court to get that one high-five from his best mate

You’re pretty much a package deal at this point. Back in high school it was clear to any team recruiter that you both came together- if they wanted one of you, they’d have to take both (which, who wouldn’t want to, honestly?)

✮ Teammate!Satoru, who absolutely adored all the attention. The man was born to be in the spotlight, and reveled in the publicity you both dug up.

You’d be in the middle of practice on a water break, and you best believe Satoru has the latest viral clip of you two playing on his phone, giggling to himself. He’s saved every single edit of your plays, has an entire folder dedicated to them. He’s always super ecstatic to show you them too,

“Ohhh!! Look how cool I was in that one— oh, and there you are- OH DID YOU SEE THAT PLAY?!”

It’s not just edits of your plays though…. He has another folder, which he has dedicated to ship edits of you two. His guilty pleasure would be staying up and mindlessly scrolling through the countless ship videos fans have made of you two. Artwork, from theories, to slowmo clips of you two staring almost lovingly into eachothers’ eyes…. All for shits and giggles though! You two are just super tight homies, that’s all! Right…?

He’d play it off too, make a bunch of jokes like,

“Ha ha, fans really think we’re dating… how crazy is that? I mean, it’s not like we like each other or anything, right? Like, it’d be really funny if we kissed on the court after we win the next game, rather than just hug. It could just be like a little peck on the cheek..— as a publicity stunt, of course! It’d totally go viral— as a publicity stunt.”

(The answer was a big fat no from the media manager, much to Satoru’s disappointment)

And yes, he’s VERY aware of the surplus of fan fiction about you two, he’s probably written half of it

“hey, ever heard of omegaverse-?”

Shit, at this point he might as well have his own ship account of you two

✮ Teammate!Satoru, who is the mortal enemy of your team’s media team, who beg him , above all else, to just watch the shit he posts online. They just don’t want a huge controversy, and the team’s two star players dating eachother?! That’s just a scandal waiting to happen. The news and magazines would go absolutely feral

But, of course, true to classic Satoru style, he just doesn’t listen

His entire Instagram account is just photos of you. Has a heart around your handle in his bio (labeled, ‘my pookie <3’ ,— mf even got down on his knees and begged you to match pfp’s with him

One of his many viral photos is of you in his pinnie, reading in bed (why you were in the same bed, nobody knows)

Another has you two on a vacation in Hawaii, sunbathing with nothing but your boxers, and beach chairs a little too close

Satoru posts all of them with jokes about ‘it ain’t gay with the homies ❤️’ and ‘catching yourself being a lil’ too fruity with bro 😂’ — but it’s gotten so excessive to the point where literally nobody knows if it’s a joke anymore or not (sure as hell don’t look like it…)

He crossed a bit of a line when he posted a picture of him getting a tattoo, of your jersey number. Yeah, the manager chewed him up good for that one.

———☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

✮ Teammate!Satoru, who’ll wait a good extra forty-five minutes for everyone else on the team to pack up and leave, just so he can fuck you in the shower room

He’s just so goddamn desperate, he’s turning all the showers on, and it still isn’t enough to mask the lewd noises you two make. Breathy moans, skin slapping,— it’s so hot in there, and Satoru knows it’s not from the steaming water coming from above.

After everybody from the team left, Satoru all but ripped his uniform off. Resorting to using the fucking 3-in-1 shampoo all the other guys use as lube, he’s quick to push himself inside of you.

He tore up the court last game, and for his reward he now gets to tear up you.

“Atta’ boy… hah.. fuck- .. fuck— ah.. did you see my winning shot today..? Ah.. hah.. it was so good, wasn’t it..-?”

He loves it when you wear his jersey while he does it too. He loves it even more if you let him wear yours.

—————————-—☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★——————————

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (5) - Be Yourself

Cover by: @ortegalvr

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word count: 6.5k

-Don't lose any sleep tonight I'm sure everything will end up alright-

The feeling of your lips against her own still lingered long after you finished shooting the scene together. It was a strangely welcome feeling; light and gentle, and most importantly it just felt right. When she kissed you, as spontaneously as it was, it felt like what she was feeling wasn't one-sided, but rather something you reciprocated. She wasn’t ready for a relationship, that’s what she’s been telling herself for some time now, while she watched her former classmates getting into their relationships and going on dates and posting about them on social media. She wasn’t ready to be vulnerable and she had a career to focus on.

But how much more vulnerable could she get? After going through an actual panic attack and calming down with you by her side? She couldn’t deny how much better she felt with you there, by her side. How often have her thoughts wandered off to you over the past couple of weeks? She dared to say almost concerningly many times.

Jenna wasn't a stranger to building connections on set, just on Scream she could tell she built friendships with Melissa, Jasmin, Mason, Mikey and many others, connections that would last long after the filming ends, regardless of potentially working together in the future. Yet there was something different with the way she was around you. With you she could be free. The panic attack proved it, and while that was something she wished had never happened, looking back and thinking about it she knew that night changed your relationship permanently. You didn’t change how you viewed her, you didn’t start treating her like she was broken, or like you needed to be careful around her, you just cared for her. She could trust you with her deepest insecurities and feel safe to share them with you.

She stole a glance toward you as you walked down the hall of the hotel you were in. As usual you were calm, confident, completely relaxed and she would be lying if she said that kind of demeanor didn't affect her as well. That same calming effect you had on her during her panic attack now affected her on a regular basis, quieting her own doubts and anxious thoughts when she was with you.

“So, that was one hell of an improvisation huh?” you broke the silence with a teasing grin on your face, but she could tell you didn't mind the kiss. Well, she wasn't exactly sure you enjoyed it, after all, it was more of a peck rather than a kiss, but she well sure you didn't mind it. And now her thoughts were going off the rails once more, and she had to make a conscious effort to stop looking at your lips.

So, to regain control and quiet her mind she teased right back. “Figured I should show them that I'm comfortable around you,” Jenna answered, nudging your lightly. For a moment she hesitated, but finding confidence in how comfortable she was around you she added: “And besides, we were supposed to kiss in the movie so there was that as well.”

You laughed, and it brought a big smile to Jenna’s face as well. She absolutely was doomed, but she loved your laugh. “Yeah, yeah, we’re sure keeping it professional. Absolutely nothing else,” oh, you were teasing her, you were absolutely teasing her, and despite how close to home it hit you were in fact joking. She could see mischief in your eyes. “You would never want to kiss me if it wasn't for the movie,” and maybe she was imagining it, projecting some of her own insecurities, but she felt self-deprecation in your tone, and she despised it.

If only you knew or rather, she figured she was lucky you didn't know. At least in some ways. As much as she hated that hint of self-deprecation, she just now noticed; she figured it would be better for both of you, in more ways than one, to keep your relationship the way it was at the moment. To stay as just friends; really, really good friends that may have crossed that line a time or two, by falling asleep together. She just wasn't sure taking the next step and acting on her feelings would turn out to be a good idea when both of you were trying to focus on your careers.

Truthfully, she was just afraid to be completely exposed to you, to let you see all of her sides, the good, the bad, her insecurities, everything she was trying to hide from others. The panic attack was one thing, and being emotionally vulnerable was almost too easy with you. But the other ways? Could she let you in on all of that?

“Of course, of course I would never,” she accepted the joke, playing off of it as two of you stopped in front of her doors. “Do you want to watch another movie?” she asked tentatively, not really wanting the night to end but just shook her head.

“Maybe some other night,” she could see a hint of regret in your eyes or perhaps she was just believing she saw it. “I made plans to catch up with my friend, and knowing her it’ll last for a while,” you grinned sheepishly, explaining why you couldn't spend the night with her and easing any worries she might have formed in her head over the late hours of the night.

“Oh, I see, say hi to her for me,” Jenna told you and pulled you into a quick hug. “Sleep well, Y/N,” she whispered.

“You too,” you whispered back and you parted ways for the night.

~X~

To be honest, you were dreading the call you were about to make. It's been two weeks since you last talked to Barbara and saying she was a bit of a needy friend would be an understatement, not that you had it in you to be bothered by it, in fact you were certain a huge reason for that neediness was the way you sometimes could get. Scratch that, the way you often got these past few years. This time though, in your defense, you really were quite busy between filming and everything happening with Jenna, so this time it wasn’t your regular stupor preventing you from fulfilling your best friend duties as Barbara called them.

You took a deep breath, sucked it up, and called her as you paced around the room hoping you would not hear her yelling at you right away.

You were hoping for too much.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Barbara roared, forcing you to move the phone away from your ear and wince because of how loud she was.

“I'm sorry I was just-“ you tried to apologize and get her to stop trying to make you lose your hearing.

She wasn’t having any of it though. “No excuses! Do you know how much I worry about you, asshole?! I damn near called Hugh and I know you've been in touch with him at least through texts!” Well, she wasn't wrong, you really were in touch with Hugh, through texts, which was also the way you kept in touch with Barbara. You just didn't find the time to call her and for Barbara that was an unusual deprivation of contact and close to unforgivable.

“Barb, come on, we’ll make up for the lost time, I promise. Just two more weeks and we'll meet up and catch up and you'll tell me all the things I missed,” you assured her. You would normally get annoyed over someone being like this, almost demanding. You appreciated being left alone when you needed it, and Barbara just wouldn’t let you be on your own. Still, you really couldn't be annoyed with her. If there was anyone other than Hugh that actually knew you, it was Barbara and as much as you depended on her she depended on you just as much and now suddenly you couldn't be there for her for almost a month and a half.

And you still had two weeks until you would meet up.

“I know. I just miss being able to go to see you,” she complained, her voice turning more whiny and you knew exactly what was coming, and it brought a smile to your face. “I want to bother you and steal all your food,” she sighed as she calmed down and you could picture her just drawing lines on some paper she had lying around. That was the thing with Barbara she had short fuse but she would also calm down ridiculously fast as long as the reason behind her anger wasn't justified she was easy to talk down, especially when it came to you and even more so after what happened a few years ago.

“You'll get to raid my fridge, again,” you put great emphasis on the word ‘again’ “Don't worry about it,” you sounded annoyed but you both knew that wasn't the case. As much as you loved filming again and as much as you acknowledged the deep, precious bond with Jenna you still missed your best friend, and nothing could change that.

Barbara laughed at that. “So how are things on the set? Tell me all about it, are there any girls I should know about?” she really couldn’t help herself. Well, at least things probably couldn’t get worse. “How are things with Jenna?” you really should know better by now. There it was, the Barbara special… The teasing! The incessant need to know everything about your love life! The love life that was, granted, pretty much nonexistent before this and it was still nonexistent because there was nothing but your crush on Jenna going between the two of you.

You could still tell you made a mistake when you naively shared with Barbara that you have grown fairly fond of your co-star. Still, you sighed, there was no going back now. “I’m in trouble, Barb, I’m in deep trouble,” you sighed, accepting that you had no control over your feelings for Jenna. After all, the taste of her lips would definitely keep reminding you of the short, but sweet, kiss you shared on set for a long time, and you’d be remembering the feel of her soft lips against your own for even longer.

“Hell yeah! Get the girl Y/N!” Barbara cheered way too loudly and you just knew she was pumping her fist up in the air.

The nerve of her. “Fucking shut up,” you groaned, dropping onto your bed and resigning yourself to more teasing as Barbara laughed.

~X~

Tomorrow morning and exactly two weeks before the filming was scheduled to end you came back from breakfast to see your phone lighting up on the bedside table. So, that’s where you forgot it. You raised an eyebrow, not expecting anyone to text you this early. As far as you knew, Barbara would still be asleep, and Hugh was a few hours behind you, so it was still in the middle of the night for him. And it probably wasn't any one of your co-stars because you just saw all of them. You walked over to the bedside table and glanced at your phone and your blood immediately froze.

“I've got an event next week. I can pick you up next Saturday and bring you back to the set on Monday morning.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you looked at the message. The event, well that was one way to put it. You could feel the itching to go, the desire to just let go, to forget everything and focus on just one simple task. You've been working out for years and you didn’t stop back when filming started, you spent damn near every day at the gym for at least an hour oftentimes more. You explained it by saying you were just trying to stay in shape, especially since you still had the job at the gym to come back to and it would be irresponsible to get out of shape.

But you knew the truth.

It wasn't staying in shape. It was just the only way you knew how to escape from what you still felt deep down. So, your reply was quick, sent without much thinking, without reconsidering the short or long-term consequences of those actions, and you especially didn’t consider how something like that could affect the movie or your career. Short-term consequences were easy to deal with. Those were your days off anyway, so nothing would happen. “I'm in,” you answered and tossed the phone to your bed ready to just go to the gym. You needed to put extra effort into preparing for… the event.

~X~

Somehow there was a feeling of dread Jenna couldn't explain, a restless feeling keeping her awake and filling her with anxiety. She had a long night doing the shooting, you all did and she intended to go to sleep to spend the evening taking a nap and resting, especially seeing as her insomnia was getting worse. You helped, of course, at least as much as Jenna would let you. Every time she turned to you for help she slept better because you would either come to her room and stay with her until she fell asleep or you would just talk on the phone and she got into a comfortable with the way things were between you. Deep down she knew it couldn’t be maintained, that she couldn't rely on you every night. You needed rest as well and she felt guilty for making her insomnia your problem.

Tonight was different. Tonight it wasn't just her insomnia keeping her awake. Tonight there was that sense of dread, that sense that if she didn't do something, anything, that something awful would happen and she didn't even know what it was. She didn't know what to do, or what it was related to, she knew nothing other than the fact that something did not feel right.

So, Jenna turned in her bed, desperately trying to keep her eyes closed so she might fall asleep. It was just her being paranoid, she was sure of it. She was just overthinking things that she honestly couldn't even define. If you or Melissa asked her what was wrong she wouldn't have an answer, she would just tell you that she had a bad feeling, and it infuriated her that she was feeling like this without having a logical explanation for it.

“Fuck it!” at this rate she wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon and it was still half past seven so she figured she could drop by your room and see if you wanted to watch a movie or something. She got up, determined to get her mind off whatever was tormenting her and picked out a rather cute red shirt and denim shorts and changed out of her pajamas. Maybe she could get you to wear your glasses for the movie, that would make the restless day better, because you, annoyingly if she could say so, still didn’t wear your glasses around her as often as she would like you to.

She didn't even send you a message as a warning, she just got out of her room and marched to your door and knocked on your doors. “One minute,” she heard you saying from behind the doors and she felt her heart beating just a bit faster, which was ridiculous because just seeing you wasn't supposed to have this kind of an effect on her. Yet here she was probably ready to just admit this was not just a crush and that she was actually in love. You opened the door and seemed to freeze when you saw her which was an unusual reaction coming from you. What was even stranger was how you looked, wearing a hoodie and worn out boots and tracksuit pants, as if you were trying to disappear in the crowd. “Jen,” you looked like a deer caught in the headlights and there was a guilty look in your eyes. That same dread that consumed Jenna entirely the whole day came back full force and she couldn't explain why.

“Hey, I was thinking if you wanted to hang out, maybe watch a movie or chill out together? Just the two of us? I mean it's fine if you don't have the time or have other plans-“ and she just noticed a backpack hanging from your shoulder, and that dread just increased for a reason she couldn’t even start to explain. Just seeing that backpack made her anxiety spike up. “Did- where are you- I mean are you going anywhere?” she stammered, now feeling unsure of herself. “You didn't mention going to see your family,” she missed the way you frowned just for a moment. “Or anyone and what's with the bag?” She was rambling not really giving you a moment to reply and worst of all the guilt on your face just became more pronounced the more she talked.

“I-“ you began but then just closed your mouth and ran your fingers through your hair. What did she just interrupt? Were you about to leave?

No, that much was obvious.

But there was something heavy in the air, something that made her worry more than she should, something deep down telling her not to back down.

“Hey, talk to me,” she reached up, almost timidly, and touched your cheek, watching as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t reject her touch, and she felt bolder, instead of just touching your cheek she began cradling it. This time she felt you flinching before you accepted her touch, leaning into it, she watched you as you took a deep breath. Your eyes were closed from the moment she touched your cheek, but even with that she could see, or feel, the battle raging within you as you struggled between staying with her and going wherever you were about to go. So, she did her best to make the decision easier for you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N,” and as if those words were enough, as if they were all you needed to hear, you reached up and took hold of her hand and pulled her in, hugging her firmly almost desperately holding onto her shirt.

“I'm staying,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook of her neck and Jenna found herself holding on to you just as firmly as you were holding on to her. That dread she felt earlier slowly began dissipating and she didn't know what she prevented, but she just felt like it was the best decision she could have made. Especially when you definitely flinched when you heard your phone ringing. For a moment she thought you would ignore it, but you let out an exhausted, broken sigh, damn near shattering her heart. “Yeah, I need to take this. Just give me a moment,” she could feel you putting so much effort just to pull away from her and then even more effort to close the door

Despite the closed doors Jenna could still hear the bits of the conversation as she stood there, her back pressed against the wall next to your doors. The murmurs of ‘I'm not coming’ and ‘I'm not arguing with you about this, I'm not coming’ made her instinctively hug herself. She felt cold all of a sudden, where were you about to go? What did she stop you from doing?

It would take months for her to figure it out and when she did it threatened to almost ruin what you built up until that point.

You came out of the room, in different clothes, now wearing a simple shirt and pajama pants and she immediately took your hand and pulled you along to her room, afraid that if she didn’t, she would just ask you where you were about to go. She looked back and saw you smiling. The smile on your face was natural not forced at all, but she could see pain hidden deep inside you and her heart broke because she could already tell you wouldn’t talk to her about this.

~X~

The early November cold seeped into her room but that wasn't the reason why about halfway through ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ she ended up wrapping her arms around you and lowering her head on your chest. That feeling of dread may have disappeared, but another feeling took its place and the only thought running through Jenna’s mind was ‘Don't let go. No matter what, don't let go.’ So, she didn't let go, even when you're raised an eyebrow at the sudden display of affection.

You've both seen the movie before, so she didn't feel any guilt for taking your attention away from it. “Y/N,” she said your name gently, aware that she now had your undivided attention. “Where were you going to go?” she asked, softly whispering the words as if saying them any louder would scare you away and convince you not to tell her anything.

You remained silent, the image of an open honest person that captured her heart wavered for a moment and then you looked away. “Just for a walk, don't worry about it,” it was so obviously a lie, and she could see you meant for her to see through it. Nonetheless the message was clear. Don’t ask more questions. You would not answer. You would not tell her the truth even if it would chase away her worries, even if it would show her you were willing to tell her anything. You just wanted to end the conversation and the obvious lie was an easy way to show Jenna it didn’t matter how many times she asked.

“OK,” she let the conversation end, but she doesn't let go of you, she just held tighter. And despite the uneasiness of the realization she just had, she still felt comfortable. It still felt so easy to be with you, and near the end of the movie she fell asleep in your arms.

Jenna didn’t wake up until you moved underneath her and when she opened her eyes, she saw the Sun was just starting to rise. “Hey, sorry I woke you up, I should go before someone catches me here,” you said and there it was, that gentle tone of your voice, that comforting attitude you had and she just now realized it was missing all night long yesterday but somehow throughout the night you got it back.

That was a relief. “Sorry, that probably wasn't the most comfortable position to sleep in,” Jenna laughed and you grinned, just shrugging as if to tell her you were perfectly fine with a bit of discomfort. Slowly, a bit too hesitantly, she let you go and moved to lie down on her bed properly and not halfway on top of you. You sat up and stretched a bit and she watched you, tense, but more relaxed than you were while you were watching the movie last night. And you looked like you rested enough, like you slept well. By now Jenna knew exactly how you looked when you didn’t get enough sleep and it wasn’t this. It was close, you clearly had a lot on your mind last night, but you slept well, and it made her happy to know that.

All of a sudden you turned and looked at her and she could see the mix of emotions in your eyes, but before she could speak you leaned over her and caressed her cheek. Jenna’s breath hitched as she looked you in the eyes. “Y/N,” she whispered your name.

“Sorry about last night. About lying, about not telling you where I was supposed to go,” you paused, your jaw clenching as you picked words, and she gave you a moment. “I still won't tell you, it doesn't matter anyway. But thank you for stopping me,” you leaned closer and for a moment she thought you’d kiss her, and she leaned forward, only to feel just your forehead pressing against hers. Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, her shaky breath mingling with your own. “Thank you for holding on to me,” there was so much in that line she couldn't understand, she simply didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle. Yet the raw emotion in your voice told her absolutely everything she needed to know. And right then and there she just made a decision that no matter how difficult it could possibly get that she would find a way to overcome whatever was going on with you.

She almost said she was just returning the favor, almost alluding to the night you spent with her after her panic attack. Yet again instinctual stopped her, something similar to what drove her to you last night and instead she just said: “I'll hold on to you anytime you need,” it was a ridiculous promise one that could not be maintained, and you both knew it. First of all you lived in different states, not to mention all the jobs both of you would take that would take you to the entirely different corners of the world. She could not hold you anytime you wanted or needed it. Even so the deeper promise remained, a promise that she was with you and that she planned on staying with you.

Your breath hitched but you recovered a lot quicker than Jenna did. You nodded, unable to properly put into words how much her promise meant to you, but she could tell. You reluctantly pulled away, leaving her in her room as you slipped back into your own, just to avoid anyone from the cast knowing you spent the night with Jenna in her bed.

~X~

The filming was coming to a close, just a few days were left now, almost two months you spent in North Carolina were something else. You came into this project trying to get back into acting after Logan. You began working on it feeling the pressure of Logan almost weighing you down. Yet now you were grappling with entirely different feelings. You ended up coming to the rooftop to watch the sunset on the last Monday of the filming, just soaking it all in. To think if things were just a bit different, if you left a few minutes earlier now you’d be coming back to the hotel this morning instead of waking up in your room to open Instagram messages between you and Jenna.

Jenna…

She stopped you. She was the first person to actually stop you.

“Hey there stranger,” you heard Mikey saying as she walked up to you, breaking you out of your thoughts and for a moment taking your mind off just what Jenna stopping you as easily as she did meant for you.

You pushed the thoughts further away, not wanting to be vulnerable around another person, no matter how cool Mikey was. You grinned, patting the spot next to you. “Stranger? Already?” you laughed and leaned back as she sat down on the still warm concrete rooftop.

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t say you made a strong impression,” she teased you, though you spent several weekends cooking together. Funny how your characters hated one another yet the two of you kind of clicked.

You smirked at that. “Well, not all of us can crash a bicycle,” you joked now, but the entire cast was worried when her and Jasmin crashed. Mikey took the fall harder, as her knee still ached occasionally, but she was fine.

She jokingly slapped your shoulder. “Jerk,” she looked back when the doors opened. “Hey, Jenna!”

“Oh, hey,” Jenna sounded genuinely surprised as she slowly approached you and Mikey. The headphones hung around her neck and if she was weak to seeing you wearing glasses the same could be said for you regarding her wearing headphones around her neck. There was just something about seeing her like that, and you were utterly incapable of keeping your heart from beating faster.

“Really, I’m the stranger?” you said to Mikey, causing her to snicker, but your eyes were on Jenna, and like many times before you found it hard to look away. The soft colors of the sunset made her look even more beautiful, if that was even possible.

“Did you hear anything I said?” Mikey elbowed your side, not even trying to be subtle about it.

“You’ll live, stranger,” you rolled your eyes and reached out to Jenna. “Want to join us?” you offered, hopeful, and wanting, no needing, to use the time you had left working together as well as you could.

Jenna looked at you almost a bit hesitant to accept, but eventually she focused on your outstretched hand and she grinned a bit. “What the hell,” she sat down right next to you and leaned against your side, pretty much pulling your arm around her. Your heart hammered in your chest, sure, you figured you both just got so used to being physically close between the scenes you had together and the every other time you spent close, but it still felt so damn good to be this close to her. You grinned when your eyes met. “It's a bit cold,” Jenna said she with a small and adorable blush on her face.

“Sure, that's all it is,” Mikey laughed clearly teasing Jenna. “But it is getting cold. Y/N, how about you just bring us some hot chocolate?” this time her attention turned to you and you just stared blankly. Was she really going to make you get up? Right now? When Jenna just got here?

“Seriously now? I just got comfortable, go get it yourself if you're so eager to drink it,” you rolled your eyes suddenly reminded of Barbara especially when Mikey gave you those puppy eyes that honestly looked the best on Jenna.

Fuck. You really were in trouble. And you had no right to be in it after what happened on Saturday night.

“Come on! I wanna talk to your girl!” Mikey pointed at Jenna.

“Not my girl/Not her girl!” you and Jenna denied at the same time and you hated how hot your face felt. It only got worse when Mikey smirked at the two of you.

“Really? So prove it, go bring us some hot chocolate,” you really couldn't get out of that could you? You huffed and reluctantly pulled away from Jenna. How was bringing hot chocolate going to prove anything?

Dumb excuses…

“Fine, fine, I'm going to get some hot chocolate, just stop teasing,” you grumbled and stood up. Did you and Jenna really look like there was something going on between you? You were just really good friends! Sure, you had feelings for her but nothing happened between you!

~X~

Jenna felt a bit squirmish, after all Mikey was rather perceptive and she could tell the slightly older girl was catching on to Jenna’s feelings. “There really isn't anything going on between me and Y/N,” perhaps the pout on her face was giving it away or perhaps she really was that obvious when it came to her feelings for you.

To her surprise Mikey shrugged as if she wasn’t shocked by Jenna’s denial. “Oh, I know. You wouldn't look so jealous if  the two of you were together.”

Jenna turn around so quickly she actually got a bit dizzy “I'm not-“ she quickly tried to deny it.

“Hush! I've seen how you looked at that barista flirting with Y/N, or at me just now because I was alone with her in such romantic circumstances,” yet Mikey didn’t sound even slightly offended as she showed around at the sunset and the rooftop and yeah, maybe it did seem a bit more romantic than Jenna would dare to admit. “Also, you missed how she looked at you. You're both so whipped it's almost sickeningly sweet. She looks at you like you are the center of the universe,” there were no intentions behind those words, Mikey didn’t look at you that way, she was simply saying what she noticed. Mikey was ridiculously cool and Jenna couldn't help but admire her admired bold and strong approach Mikey took to everything she was doing, but she didn’t appreciate that same approach being taken regarding her own feelings towards you.

Besides she thought she would have this conversation with Melissa if she really had to have it with anyone on the cast. “She doesn't look at me like that,” Jenna denied it as she looked down between her feet remembering how you lied to her two nights ago. You apologized, sure, but the lie remained and you never told her where you were really about to go. It really wasn’t her business or right to demand to know, but there was a part of her that believed all the moments you shared gave her the right to ask and know the answer. Would you really be looking at her the way Mikey described if you couldn't even open up to her?

“Yeah, so how come she spent so many nights with you,” Mikey asked so casually and Jenna felt like her heart was about to explode with how fast it was beating.

“What?” she managed to ask, her words barely louder than a whisper as her brain went into overdrive.

“I heard you laughing, mostly. I know there is nothing going on, but I also know you spend nights together. The walls are ridiculously thin, I'm sure Melissa knows too but I also think she knew beforehand as well,” this was Jenna’s worst nightmare. She spent weeks thinking the two of you were keeping your late night meetings a secret yet here she was, learning they weren’t so secret after all.

How did she never hear Amber or Melissa?

Oh, right. The answer was around her neck…

There were so many implications in what Mikey said Jenna felt like her overthinking mind couldn’t keep up with all of them. The walls were thin so it confirmed to Mikey and quite possibly Melissa that you have spent a lot of time with Jenna in her room. And the thin walls confirmed to Mikey, and possibly Melissa as well, that you and Jenna did not actually get together, at least in a more intimate way. Jenna couldn't remember the last time she got this red and embarrassed and desperate for the ground to swallow her whole. She never felt this exposed in her entire life.

“Sorry,” well what else was she supposed to say besides just apologize for keeping Mikey awake,

“No, it's OK. You never kept me awake, you weren't that loud. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret and let you confess instead of spilling the beans to your, sorry Tara’s, guard dog,” Mikey was having too much fun with this if that shit eating grin was anything to go by.

Jenna just groaned, hoping you wouldn’t com back right away, because she wasn’t sure how she could look you in the eyes after this.

~X~

This was it. One last scene, the scene that was moved back quite a bit, actually, and the movie would be done, well, at least your part of the job.

Originally you were supposed to film this scene while Emma was still here, but when you were getting ready to film it the equipment failed somehow. You couldn't really remember what it was. Either the lighting wasn't good, or something was wrong with the camera, or something else entirely, and it was late so you just moved it to another day. And that another day just kept being pushed back and back and now here you are on the final day of the shooting Scream filming the scene where Gale calls your character to ask her why they were all coming back to Woodsboro.

“OK everyone let's wrap this movie up!” Tyler instructed as you and Jenna got in your positions, which was in the bed with Jenna acting like she was asleep on top of you with both of you embracing one another as much as the supposed wounds your characters took could allow.

And then it happened again. The scene was probably cursed or something.

“Sir,” one of men on the filming crew approached Tyler almost timidly. “The mic isn't working, I just sent Rick to get another one,” you all heard it loud and clear and the silence that engulfed the room was so loud, so consuming and ridiculous you almost laughed. There were only a handful of times in your life where the phrase ‘so quiet you could hear the pin drop’ could fit to the situation as good as it did right now. And neither you or Jenna dared to say a single word. In fact Jenna just didn't move at all and you figured you should probably follow her example so you didn't move either just closed your eyes trying to ignore the absolutes ridiculousness of this situation

At least Matt and Tyler weren't mad about it as they just began laughing about the absurdity of everything that was happening.

The room lit up and you saw people walking around keeping the set ready for the continuation but it didn't matter you barely paid attention to them. The only thing you paid attention to the was the girl in your arms.

You looked at Jenna, sleeping there, you looked at her peaceful face, at the freckles covering her cheeks, her hair, her lips, you felt the subtle squeeze of her arms around your waist and listened to the soft sound of her breathing. Her grip on you was soft and barely there but in a way unyielding and you were reminded of that night one week ago when she kept you from going to- from leaving the hotel.

You resisted the urge touch her cheek, to hold her closer, to tell her how you felt because deep down you were afraid. You had to stop going to those events. What a laughable way to call underground fighting. Unless you properly stopped you had no right to tell her anything about how you felt. As it was you were a mess, and she did not deserve to deal with that. So, you promised yourself you would just keep quiet.

When the equipment was finally fixed you barely realized about half an hour had passed and you did not want to delay the filming anymore, so you gently nudged Jenna until she woke from her slumber.

“Hey, sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep, I’ve just been tired lately,” she apologized and probably by accident snuggled closer to you.

“It's OK, you didn't miss anything,” you said, ignoring how intimate this entire thing between you and Jenna felt. You needed to fix yourself before addressing that. Nearly going and participating in a fight proved it to you.

A/N: So, this was supposed to go a bit further down the timeline, Hugh was supposed to show up, there were supposed to be talks of future projects, and set up Reader meeting Jenna’s family, but you know what, I think this is a good cliffhanger. And it was still longer than 6k, so, there’s that.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

[planetpedri]

Unrequited love (& other clichés) — Kai Havertz.

Pairing: Kai Havertz x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kai must’ve looked too hard into whatever you two had going on, because you didn’t seemed to feel the same.

Word count: 650+

Disclaimer/s: Angst I fear.. all angst.. maybe a little bit of hope at the end though ..

A/N: This is for @ar4ujos and @hrts4havertz specifically.

Kai breathed quietly while you two walked along the winding brick roads. He knew you haven’t been having the best time lately, so he wanted to show you he was there, that he cared. He’d showed up at your house, offered you his hand, told you to go on a walk with him, he even felt his heart squeeze at the sight of your smile.

Now, you two walked along a random road in the outskirts of the city. The roads clearly decaying with decades of use.

The moon lit up the sky, casting a welcoming glow over the two of you. His hand intertwined with yours, a light hold to keep you beside him. You didn’t say anything as you walked, you simply observed the buildings around you silently.

It wasn’t so late that the shops were closed, but the moon had come out already, and the streets were quiet. He heard a quiet gasp leave your lips when you walked past a flower shop, his attention quickly turning to it.

“Do you want to go in?” He asks, gaze drifting to your wide eyed face.

“Yes.” You reply, instantly.

He chuckles, giving your hand a quick tug before opening the door and letting you go in first. Inside the shop, you browse the array of bouquets. Commenting on the ones you like and don’t like, you don’t seem to notice the way Kai had plucked one flower from the ones you liked.

By the end, he’d had a full hand of flowers. You turn around to ask if he was ready to go, when you notice. You let out a laugh, “seriously?”

“Dead serious.” He nods, “let’s find the cash register?” Trailing behind him in disbelief, with a small smile on your lips, you make your way to the cashier.

Once back on the street, you sniffing the flowers and Kai watching you with a fire growing in his stomach, you continue your stroll about the town.

You walk and talk for hours. Kai asking you about various topics, your family, job, the things you liked, and vise versa. You found the both of you had more similarities than you’d ever thought. The watch on your wirst read half past eight, but neither of you were ready for the night to end.

You only stop when he spotted a bench to sit at so you could both rest your feet. “I’m surprised you don’t have a boyfriend,” Kai adds subtly.

“Not really looking for anything romantic.” You shrug in response, “it doesn’t interest me.”

He felt disappointed shoot throughout his body, straight to his heart. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but you were too perfect not to feel hope for.

You give him a warm smile, “if I were to though, you’d be a prime candidate.” It could’ve been a joke, but it still stung. But, supposed it was better than nothing. “Unfortunately, now is definitely not the time for me to start anything in that way.”

Double sting.

He had a chance, but he’d have to wait. And Kai could do that. For you, he would. Then you looked up at him, a hidden emotion deep within your eyes that he wished so badly he could decipher.

You made him feel a mess, he didn’t want to be just friends, but you didn’t want to be.. anything. Not right now. For a while, he believed the feeling may have been reciprocated. Clearly he was just a fool.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, your body tensing slightly. You felt guilty, you wanted to let him know how much he meant to you, but you couldn’t. It was simply for the better that he didn’t get involved with you right now.

“Walk me home?” You ask, “it’s late.”

Kai nods, standing up from the bench and offering out his hand. Always a gentleman, even when you’d broke his heart in two.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @sakashq @spidybaby !

[physics-of-one-piece]

Ok heres a question ive been having for a while. Is doffy balding? Does he just have a horrid haircut for his hair texture? Or does he just have a vegeta like widows peak? Btw love the blog 🐦‍⬛

Hi, anon! Oh, love the crow! Can I call you crow anon? You will be Crow Anon.

I have no idea 🤣 I'm not a hairstylist 😭😭

We Doffy fans sorta joke about it (affectionately) but also, the possibility he has a reclining hairline is there.

I like to think he chose that short haircut bcs

LOOK HOW MUCH HAIR HE HAS HERE! THAT'S A LOT OF FLUFFY THICK HAIR!

Whichever option is funny to me 🤣

I like to think he got a shorter haircut after killing Cora cus he associated his fluffy thick hair with that.

Idk, I like his North Blue hairstyle cus it reminds me of a head of a dragon. And he is a Celestial Dragon. As a kid, he also had short hair, so I do think it's just his preferred haircut. But it could be whichever, and I embrace them all.

I actually never thought about it being a widows peak (I had to google it) and I had no idea there was an actual name for that style of hair. Awesome.

Wdym his haircut is horrid? He has cute spikes 🥺

Look at him 🥺

This below is my 2nd fav hairstyle of his. Shorter version of his North Blue hairstyle. I fell in love with this one.

You will take Jaya Doffy from my cold, dead hands. He looks sorta vicious and cool and has a sorta ruffled hair, I really like it. I loved when he beat up Bellamy in Jaya. First time I watched Jaya, I was like "He should do it again, what a cool warlord Doflamingo is!"

600 episodes later...

"Leave Bellamy alone 😭😭"

You know, before I knew how old he is, I guessed he was in his late 30s, myb 36-38 age. I wasn't that far off for pre-timeskip Doffy. My friends told me "never guess One Piece character ages, you will be wrong in 90% of cases" and they were right.

This has been your All of Doffy's Haircuts Appreciation Post.

Thank you for the love, Crow Anon! Sending love back to you x1000 ❤️❤️🦩

[myfandomrealitea]

I saw some stupid post about what media you consume and create so I made a rant and I thought it would be fun to share with someone:

For people who say that what you read/interact/make determines who you are and your values as a person I have this to say; do you know how many kids played with their toys in a gruesome manner? How many Barbies have had cheating, abuse, and divorce scandals that ended with someone dying? How many Minecraft sheep have suffered the piston end rod joke? How many mlp horror fanfics were ingested and enjoyed by younger fans?

Did you only play with your toys in a pure and golden way? Did you not try out some dark ideas for fun with the knowledge that this is all fake? Do you think the kids obsessed with fnaf and poppy playtime and the other dozen rip offs are pro child murdering?

They do it because it’s fun to play pretend, not because they want it all to actually happen. If children can realize that you can do things in fiction that you wouldn’t want to do in real life, why can’t adults?

This makes me think of the Reddit example in the comments of an AITA post where someone talked about how as a child they used to pretend they were an orphan and had to navigate life by themselves. When their Mom found out she went absolutely batshit, insisting it meant that they wanted her dead and were plotting to kill her.

People who think you can only consume specific media or in specific ways always make me laugh because you'll usually find out they love Disney movies or love songs about rape and gang violence or read the exact same literature only its okay because they do it "critically."

[buckleyflower]

‼️ BUDDIES ALERT ‼️

I’m a multishipper and I’ve been in one of the anti-buddie groups. They were joking about sending bt fans anon asks and make it look like it was actually buddies doing it. To make it look like buddies are harassing bt fans! I thought it was a joke but I’m seeing a few of such posts and I don’t know who to tell!! Help me!!

I honestly usually try to stay as away as possible from fandom drama (maybe failing lol), but I’m posting this.

I personally just think it’s absurd that people are going around harassing other people about a goddamn tv show… like, harassing people shouldn’t be a thing in general, obviously, but I would love to talk to these people and help them understand that none of this is real, that buck and eddie and tommy do not exist, and yes, we love them dearly (I’m the first one to be obsessed with the show and with buddie, I am) but at the end of the day, is there anything that justifies being mean to people? Like, I don’t know if there’s anything at all, but in this context, I literally see no reasons.

I don’t wanna talk about the reasons why people prefer one ship over another, let alone bring the “actor factor” into this fucked-up equation, I just believe that we could each enjoy our own things regardless of what other people think, without having to offend anyone. Like, I won’t go talk shit to BuckTommy shippers out of the blue, or I won’t comment on posts that are anti-Buddie simply because I don’t care, so I don’t get why they can’t do the same, honestly. It’s just a basic thought process, in my opinion.

But maybe, in the end, they don’t even care about Buck and Tommy. They just love spreading hate.

(Sorry for the rant, you probably weren’t expecting that, I just felt like every time I opened the app today I found some tommy-related drama and I’m sad about it, because it could be avoided.)

[charliewrites99]

‼️ BUDDIES ALERT ‼️

I’m a multishipper and I’ve been in one of the anti-buddie groups. They were joking about sending bt fans anon asks and make it look like it was actually buddies doing it. To make it look like buddies are harassing bt fans! I thought it was a joke but I’m seeing a few of such posts and I don’t know who to tell!! Help me!!

Look idk if this is a joke or someone trolling or telling the truth. I hope it's not but just in case it the truth is I will post it. If its true I hope those people fucking grow up.

Also for buddies DO NOT SEND BTs hate. Yes, they are annoying as fuck and probably sent many of you hate, do not go down to their level. If you do we all will have to listen how we attack poor bt shippers who never do anything wrong.

Just ignore them, tag correctly and hopefully they will lose interest.

If anyone has a way to back-up the claim of this ask please do so.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Halloween (She's So Mean)

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to walk around.

contains: haunted house with jeff, scare actor jeff, making out and it’s slightly nsfw (under the red divider!!)

warnings: name calling (slut is used), he’s dressed as a murderous clown with blood on him and a fake knife

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a.n: don’t be following or shamelessly flirt with scare-actors unless you know them personally and they’re ok with it PLEASE

“I want to just walk around,” you tell your friends. They nodded, walking deeper into the festival grounds.

Every few seconds, screams and laughter surround you – all thanks to the scare-actors scattered about. You feel a buzzing thrill under your skin, a mixture of excitement and nervousness propelling you further. You glance at your left, unaware of a man ready to leap out at you.

“Gotcha!”

You stumble back with a yelp, bumping into one of your friends. The man before you, dressed like a murderous clown, laughs maniacally. His sleek, black leather jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to expose a provocative amount of lean, scarred skin of his torso. Blood is splattered over his pale skin. His makeup enhances his almost-white skin, with dark red eyeshadow sweeping across his eyelids and extending under his eyes. The classic clown look is evident in the sharp diamond shapes that stretch from above his eyebrows to his cheeks. A black upside-down cross is drawn on his forehead, while black face-paint is made to look like his mouth is stretched out. Streaks of dried blood trail from his red lips down to his chin, completing the scary look.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in with a devilish grin – your heart hammers in your chest.  You think he’s about to say something else but he only winks at you. He turns quickly to find his next victim, leaving you bewildered and breathless.

You and your friends continue to explore the festival, but your thoughts are stuck on that encounter. You wander through the festival, trying to shake off the chill that his presence left on you. But it doesn’t matter how many fun booths you pass or how many jokes your friends make, he has carved himself into your brain. You want to believe it was only because he effectively scared you.

You start to lose yourself in the atmosphere, the tension in your shoulders easing. The interaction seems to be behind you and your group has moved on to playing games. You’re standing near a brightly lit game stall, watching as your friend fails to properly throw a ball at a bottle. You laugh as another friend steps up to help – only to fail just as terribly.

“Miss me?” Someone whispers, their breath hot on your ear.

You spin toward him, coming face to face with the scare-actor from earlier. He’s so close that you can smell the leather of his suit and a faint scent of nicotine. He laughs sharply, causing you to shrink back against a wall behind you. When he pulls back his arm way too swiftly, you almost scream.

“You’re so hot!” You blurt out without thinking, closing your eyes tightly. Oh, fuck. You’re supposed to be scared. His job is to scare you, and here you were, declaring how hot you think he is.

Your eyes go wide in horror, and you seem to have genuinely caught him off guard for a moment. His taunting grin falters, and his eyes are just as wide as yours. Your face feels like hot coal when he bursts out into loud laughter. He doubles over, one of his hands pressed against his stomach. Your friends join in on his laughter, and you would have kicked him if your embarrassment hadn’t caused you to freeze.

“Oh, god, you –“ he gasps for air between laughs. “What kinda reaction – Jesus!”

“That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to – “You stammer out. You’re absofuckinglutely mortified.

“Nah, nah, you can’t take that back,” he teases as he calms down. Before you can answer, he grabs your wrist and it’s surprisingly gentle. “Since you think I’m so hot, I’m takin’ you with me. That okay?”

“Okay – “

You barely have time to look back at your friends who are now cheering for you. You’d get them back for this for sure. He’s dragging you through the maze of people, and you have to fight to keep up. He’s leading you toward the mansion, undoubtedly heading to one of the haunted experiences. Curious festivalgoers in lines watch as he skips to the entrance of one.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he drawls, nodding at the worker who steps to the side to let you two in. he looks over his shoulder to flash you a smirk, but he’s also studying your reaction. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You’re too stunned and excited to resist, following silently behind him. A part of you really seems to like how he’s treating you. It was a strange mix of actions – like he was controlling you, but also giving you a chance to refuse. Not that you would refuse.

The inside of the attraction is dark and disorienting. The lights flicker above and cast eerie shows in the already creepy hallway. Every time an animatronic or an actor jumped out, you’d walk a little closer to Jeff. At one point, he got so tired of you practically squishing yourself against his arm that he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pressed the palm of his hand against the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers, his lips lightly grazing your ear, and the warmth of his breath causes your brain to short-circuit. “Scared?”

Jeff is relentless, making jokes and flirting to break the tension. You attempt to match his energy, even if it is a bit shaky. A flurry of butterflies weighs heavily on your chest. He leads you down somewhere clearly off of the main path. He pulls back a curtain, revealing a door with a sign that reads “Employees Only.” He opens it with no issue before turning around. He stands in front of the dark corridor, the shadows framing his silhouette. He holds your wrist loosely, giving you another hint that you can stop this at any time.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asks, tilting his head. His tone then takes on a mocking lilt. “Promise I won’t bite… too hard.”

You hesitate for just a millisecond before stepping closer. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his grip on your wrist tightening. Who were you to say no?

“That’s my stupid little slut,” he purrs, walking backwards into the darkly lit hallway and pulling you with him. He looks at you and back to the door – another exit, he seems to be telling you. But you don’t move.

He closes it and the sounds behind it immediately sound muffled and distant. He stares down at you with a charged mischief that almost has your knees buckling. He holds up his prop knife, the flat side of the plastic blade lightly tapping against your cheek. He leans in, his breath hitting your face.

“Last chance to run, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s surprisingly considerate as his eyes search yours for any hint of uncertainty.

You’re too caught up in the moment to respond as your hands tangle into Jeff’s hair to pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, immediately closing the distance. You can taste the copper that lingers in his mouth – fake blood, probably – but it only adds to the intoxicating thrill of the moment.

Your back hits the cold wall, the sharp pain tingling just enough to make you crave his closeness even more. He nips at your lower lip and grips your waist tightly. As his tongue delves into your mouth, one of his knees slips between your legs. He rolls his knee lightly against your clothed groin, the fabric of your jeans stimulating you just right. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it up greedily, his slippery muscle sliding against yours.

Your hand presses flat against his stomach, the warmth mixing with the heat of your palm. Neither of you seemed to remember – or care – about the blood on his torso. It was dried by now, so, as you trailed your hand up his chest, the substance flaked off onto your hand.

You don’t know how long you had been gone, but all you knew was that you had lots of fun. You just didn’t think what you had done was obvious. That was until your friends squealed when you came back, pointing at and teasing you about the makeup staining the area around your mouth.

[lenaboskow]

‼️ BUDDIES ALERT ‼️

I’m a multishipper and I’ve been in one of the anti-buddie groups. They were joking about sending bt fans anon asks and make it look like it was actually buddies doing it. To make it look like buddies are harassing bt fans! I thought it was a joke but I’m seeing a few of such posts and I don’t know who to tell!! Help me!!

they don’t want to blame their king so they’ll find someone else to blame. they’ve already done it with ostark 🤷‍♀️