#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE

[voidheartkisses]

Subspace and Medkit sketches!!

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Ghost Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: You were trying to move on with your life and clear your head about Spencer from a safe distance, but the whole plan goes out the window when you hear his screams.

Words: 5,8k (I went crazy).

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of jail, gun, violence, alcohol. the reader is wearing a dress, and is slightly injured (nothing serious, just a bruise). nightmares. hurt/comfort. so bittersweet. painter!reader. post prison reid. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm finally back! This chapter cost me quite a bit due to lack of time (I'm now officially a university student) and my obsession with making it raw, emotional, and coherent with everything that has happened to Spencer. Really, one of my biggest fears is falling into caricature and making it all seem very out of character, so again, I hope this makes sense to you.

You weren’t the type to go out partying. Nights spent under the haze of neon lights and thumping bass didn’t appeal to you—especially in a city like this one, where shadows stretched long and secrets whispered from every corner. You had your reasons, too. Spending time with an FBI agent who was far too eager to spill the sordid details of his cases left you carrying a permanent thread of suspicion, the kind that made you eye even the janitor’s mop bucket a little too long. But, despite all that, you knew there were moments when you had to relent. When your best friend practically dragged you from your own isolation, insisting on a night out, you could dust off an old dress, slip into heels that pinched just enough to remind you you were still human, and survive the night.

Tonight had been one of those moments.

As you stepped into your apartment, you closed the door carefully behind you, mindful not to wake your cat. The faint jingle of your keys hitting the small table near the door sounded unusually loud in the early morning stillness. The clock on the wall read half past three, and a wave of exhaustion began to creep in, though your mind was too restless to fully embrace it. You glanced toward the worn armchair in the corner, where your cat lay curled in a contented ball. She stirred briefly, opened one green eye, and then decided you weren’t worth the effort of waking up in that moment.

You let out a soft breath and looked around the room. Memories of the night played back in your head as you took off your shoes and went to the kitchen for a glass of water to make you feel a little alive again.

It had all started as an attempt by your friend to pull you out of the orbit of your own misery. “You need this,” she’d said earlier that evening, tugging you out of your chair and into the kind of outfit that made you glance at yourself twice in the mirror, unsure if you still recognized the person staring back.

“Just this time,” you’d agreed.

But, surprisingly, all the dancing and drinking in the bar had been weak against the power of your emotions. Maybe that was because you barely paid attention to the songs they played or the fact that you hadn't even touched the drinks the bartender served you. You had spent most of the night with your chin in your palm, staring into your glass and telling your friend how much you missed Spencer, how the silence in the hallway felt heavier now. And she listened to you patiently, even as the music boomed around you, offering soft, soothing words that you only half heard.

Now, in the stillness of your home, it felt a little foolish and even pathetic. You leaned against the counter, the cold granite grounding you. The sudden and soft shuffle of Mittens broke the silence, and you glanced down to see your cat staring up at you, her green eyes luminous in the dim light. She yawned, then rubbed against your leg, as if to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone. A pretty nice gesture.

You leaned down to scratch her behind the ears, and your thoughts went back to your neighbor. You thought about how he used to smile at you, just barely. You thought about the low timbre of his voice when he greeted you in the hallway, as if he wasn't used to never being heard. He always seemed to carry the weight of something unsaid, something you were afraid to ask. Maybe that's why you were so fascinated by him since the first day. Or maybe it's just because he never looked at you like you were trying too hard, not even on the rare nights you went out in a dress and heels.

As you straightened and turned toward the living room, your eyes caught the faint outline of his window through your own. The blinds were down, but the light was on. It was late, much later than usual for him. It tugged at something inside you, a curiosity laced with longing.

Your cat leapt onto the couch, curling into a soft ball of fur, and you sat beside her. Pulling a blanket over your legs, you let your gaze linger on his window. Was he pacing again, restless like you? He was thinking about what happened between you two yesterday? Could he be regretting everything?

You certainly didn’t know what possessed you, but your phone was in your hand before you could stop yourself and think more than a second about it.

Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was just the weight of wanting someone you couldn’t seem to reach, no matter how close you were. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be your nice and honest Spencer after all. But whatever it was, the message was already halfway typed before you could stop it.

“Are you awake?”

You stared at the screen for a moment, the question hanging there like a fragile thread, one tug away from unraveling everything. You could feel your pulse in your fingertips, the weight of the message sinking into your chest. With a shaky exhale, you pressed send and regretted it instantly.

But he didn’t respond. Not instantly.

You leaned back against the couch, letting your head tip against the cushion. The blanket pooled around your waist, your cat purring softly beside you, oblivious to your unease. You told yourself to stop looking, to let it go. Maybe he wasn’t near his phone. Maybe he’d seen it and didn’t know what to say. Or maybe—your stomach tightened—maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

But the light in his room was still on. It has to mean something. Please let it mean something.

It felt completely ridiculous to fixate on that tiny detail, but you couldn’t help it. You kept wondering what he was doing in there. Was he working on something, hunched over a desk with his brows furrowed in concentration? Was he pacing the room, thinking of everything, just like you? Or was he simply lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, as lost in his thoughts as you were now?

The longer you stared, the more you started to imagine him there and wishing to be there like you used to do, running your fingers through his hair and just enjoying the silence. Now, you could almost see him, the faint silhouette of his figure moving behind the blinds, like a ghost that refused to stay hidden.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your hand, and your breath caught, but it wasn’t him. Just a notification from some app you’d forgotten to turn off, and in that moment you hate it completely. You let out a shaky laugh, half at your own foolishness and half to fill the silence.

Outside, the city was starting to move and advance again. A car passed by, and its headlights cut through the darkness. In the distance, a siren wailed, high and short. It was a reminder of how small you were in the big picture, of how trivial your problems might seem compared to everyone else's. But still, your eyes drifted back to his window, making that the biggest problem in the world.

The light hadn’t flickered again, but it was steady, constant. You told yourself to stop watching, to turn off your own light, and just continue your way to your bed. But something rooted you there, some stubborn hope that he’d notice you watching, or that he’d respond to your message, even with something small.

But yet, nothing came, and all your hope started to disappear slowly.

Maybe it was time to let him go, to stop acting like a lovesick puppy following in his footsteps, and most of all, to stop trying to give him a coherent reason for being distant. Maybe you weren't welcome in his life anymore. Maybe the gun incident was just what he would do for any neighbor he thought was in danger. Maybe you weren't as important as you thought you were.

After a moment, you decided it was best to go to bed, so you pulled the blanket up to your chin, the weight of the day slowly slipping away. But then it began. At first it was so faint you might have thought it was part of your imagination, just a murmur, a low sound carried by the stillness of the night. But it didn't fade. It grew louder, sharp, jagged, and unmistakable. A choked scream broke the silence of your apartment, raw and desperate, like someone drowning in their own breath.

Your heart jolted in your chest. The sound was different this time—familiar, but more frantic. It was a chorus of broken sobs and harsh, muffled shouts, followed by a sound you couldn’t quite place but which churned something so dark in your stomach.

And then, the scream.

It wasn’t just a noise. It was a cry born of suffering, guttural and aching, twisting in ways that made your blood run cold. Your eyes snapped open, wide and alert, and your body froze in place. The world around you seemed to fade, the hum of the city outside distant, irrelevant. There was only that sound. That scream.

It came again. Another strangled, desperate cry echoed through the walls. And this time, you knew.

Spencer.

Without thinking, you grabbed your keys from the bedside table and moved quickly toward the door. You weren’t sure why you were doing it, why you were stepping into the unknown at this hour, but it felt like the only thing to do to make sure he was okay. You’d heard him through the tiny walls before—quiet murmurs, little things, but nothing like this. This felt like he was caught in something bigger, something that worried you immensely.

The hallway was dark, empty, and your footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence to wake up all the neighbors. Every sound felt amplified, like the whole apartment was holding its breath with you. You didn’t knock. You didn’t stop to think. You just shoved the key into the lock, the cold metal pressing into your palm as you twisted it, your breath caught in your throat.

You stepped inside.

The apartment was bathed in the pale glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds, casting long, distorted shadows across the floor. Everything felt unnervingly still, too still, the silence almost suffocating in its weight, amplifying every sound that dared break it. His door was slightly ajar, the sliver of light spilling out like a silent invitation, beckoning you in. Drawn by the echoes of his suffering, you moved toward his bedroom, your body moving almost on instinct. The door opened just wide enough to allow you a glimpse.

What you saw made your heart stutter in your chest.

Spencer was tangled in his sheets, his body thrashing violently beneath them, his movements frantic and desperate as if he were trying to escape some invisible force. His face was contorted in agony, his brow furrowed so tightly it seemed the pain had etched itself into his very skin. His chest rose and fell in shallow, jagged breaths, the effort so intense it seemed to burn through him, his body quivering with every painful inhalation. He was caught in the grip of some terrible nightmare, one so vicious it stole his ability to breathe, to think, to fight.

You could see the whiteness of his knuckles, his fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the bed, the skin stretched taut and trembling with the strain. His whole body was rigid, muscles locked in a battle against the unseen terrors his mind had conjured. Tears streaked down his face, mingling with the sweat that had gathered along his brow, the rawness of his cries reverberating in the stillness, thickening the air around you.

“Spencer?” You whispered, barely recognizing your own voice as it trembled in the room. You reached toward him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he didn’t respond. He was lost—completely lost—in whatever dark place his mind had pulled him into, and you didn’t know what to do. “Spencer, wake up,” you tried again, your voice desperate, thick with the urgency of the situation.

His eyes were squeezed shut, the lines of his face tight with tension, his lips trembling with the words that came next, words broken and heavy with pain.

“Please…don’t do it…” he gasped, his voice breaking on the words, filled with so much pain that it made your chest tighten. His hands reached out, grasping at the empty air in frantic, helpless motions. Like he was trying to hold onto something—anything—that could pull him out of the darkness.

You felt the heaviness of his plea in your bones. The torment in his voice was unbearable.

“No, no, no…” he whispered, the words barely audible, but they hit you with the weight of something deep, something far beyond just a nightmare. He was begging, pleading for something that you couldn’t see, couldn’t understand. His body jerked, still trying to pull away from something that wasn’t really there. “Leave me, please, leave me.”

“Spencer!” You called again, louder this time, your hand on his shoulder, your voice trembling with urgency. You shook him, trying to pull him back from wherever his mind had taken him.

In the heat of your panic, you thought it was the right thing to do, thought you could snap him out of it. You thought you could reach him.

But then, in an instant, everything went wrong.

The second your hand touched his shoulder, his body jerked violently, more forceful than before, and without warning, his fist shot out. It connected with your left cheek with such brutal force that your head snapped back, the sting of the blow exploding across your face. For a moment, everything went dark, the pain so sudden and sharp that it left you breathless and disoriented, your body instinctively reeling from the shock. A whimper escaped your throat involuntarily, as the world around you tilted, your vision blurring as you pressed your hand to your cheek, the sting still radiating across your skin.

But he didn’t seem to notice. He continued to thrash beneath the sheets, his body trembling violently, his cries still trapped in that nightmare. You gasped for air, trying to steady yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You’d been trying to help, trying to pull him from his terror—and instead, you’d been struck.

For a heartbeat, there was only the harsh rhythm of your breathing. And then, Spencer’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and it was as if the world around him collapsed into focus. His breath hitched in his throat, still shallow, but the frantic terror began to give way to confusion. His eyes flickered across the room, distant and unfocused, and then they landed on you.

In that instant, everything seemed to slow. He blinked, his eyes glazing over in disbelief as they locked on your face, lingering for a moment on the red mark blooming on your cheek. His lips parted, his voice catching in his throat, his expression morphing from confusion to something far worse—horror.

“Oh my God…” He whispered, his voice trembling with fear and guilt, his whole body shaking. “Oh my God—did I—?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find the words to reassure him, not in that moment.

He pushed himself up from the bed, his body unsteady, shaky with the tremors of both fear and guilt. His eyes never left your face, locked onto the evidence of his panic etched across your skin. “No. No, no, no,” he stammered, his words coming faster, more frantic, as if trying to deny the reality of what had just happened. “I hit you—I—”

“Spencer,” you started, but your voice was soft, almost hesitant, the lingering sting in your cheek making it hard to speak.

He didn’t hear you. He was already out of bed, nearly tripping over himself as he scrambled toward you. His hands hovered in the air, trembling with the weight of his guilt. “I didn’t mean to! I swear! I—I didn’t know—” His voice cracked, and his hands hovered near your face, but he didn’t touch you, not yet, too afraid that his very presence would cause you more harm. His eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, your voice firmer now, despite the ache in your chest. “It’s okay. It was an accident.”

But he wasn’t listening. He backed away from you, running a shaky hand through his hair, pacing in agitation, his whole body wracked with guilt. “No, it’s not okay. I—” His voice broke, the words dying in his throat.

You stepped closer to him, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek, reaching out to take his hand, hoping that this simple touch might anchor him in the midst of his storm. At first, he flinched, his body reacting to the contact as though it burned, but then he froze, and his gaze locked with yours.

“Listen to me, please,” you said softly, gently forcing him to meet your eyes, to hold your gaze. His bloodshot eyes were filled with shame, his face a mask of regret. “Look at me. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

His brow furrowed, his gaze flicking to your cheek once more, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re not okay. I can see it—I did that.” His hands trembled as he pointed to the mark on your skin. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You were having a nightmare,” you interrupted gently, your voice tender, yet firm. “You didn’t know what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault…I shouldn’t have touched you like that when you were in that state.”

“No, it’s all in me…I’m the one who did this.” He choked on his own words, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to break free. “I’m the reason you’re hurting.”

You felt the weight of his guilt like a crushing force. It felt suffocating, like the walls around him were closing in, and you couldn’t stand seeing him like this—lost in his own self-loathing. You wanted to reach him, to show him that it wasn’t his fault, that his nightmare had taken hold of him, not his own hands.

But it wasn’t just the nightmare that had gripped him; it was the way he saw himself now. A man who hurt others without meaning to, a man who couldn’t escape the damage he had caused. You had been there before, watching him battle his inner demons, and you knew how much this guilt could eat away at him if left unchecked.

You watched him struggle, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his head bowed like he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. The weight of his guilt was tangible, suffocating, and you had to do something—anything—to stop it from consuming him.

“If it were me,” you murmured, searching his face, “if I had been the one thrashing, if I had been the one to hit you, would you be standing here telling me I was a terrible person?”

Spencer blinked. His lips parted, his breath shaky, and you could see the internal war waging behind his eyes.

“I—” He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching in yours. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I know what’s inside my head. I know what I’ve seen, and I—” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply, his entire body shuddering. “I don’t trust myself not to hurt people.”

That was the most honest thing he'd said to you in three months, and he instantly regretted it. The look in your eyes says too much, and almost all was pity.

“That’s not fair,” you told him, voice steady. “And you know it.”

He didn’t respond. He can’t because you were right.

Instead, he turned abruptly, running a shaking hand through his hair, muttering, “Wait here. Just—just stay.”

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen. You heard the faint sound of running water, the clink of something being opened, and then the hurried shuffle of his footsteps as he returned, a small hand towel in one hand and a plastic bag filled with ice in the other.

Without a word, Spencer knelt in front of you, his movements careful, deliberate, as if afraid you might flinch. He gently wrapped the ice in the towel, his hands trembling slightly, and looked up at you, his expression unreadable.

“Let me,” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Slowly, he raised the makeshift ice pack to your cheek, his movements tender, almost hesitant, as though he feared he might hurt you again. The coolness of the ice was a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, which hovered just beneath your jaw, steadying you.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, but his gaze remained fixed on your face. His thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, just below where the ice rested, and the gentleness of the touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“God,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s really not that bad.” You spoke softly, trying to cut through his panic. “If I’m being honest, Mittens has scratched me more times than I can count.” You lifted your arm, showing the faint, nearly invisible white lines crisscrossing your skin. “She’s a little terror sometimes, but I love her anyway.”

His eyes flickered to the marks, but the tension in his expression didn’t ease. His brows furrowed, the crease between them deepening with uncertainty. “But that’s different,” he murmured, his voice hesitant, like he was afraid to argue but couldn’t stop himself. “A cat scratching you isn’t the same as—” He swallowed hard. “As hitting you.”

You smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried more weight than it should—small, knowing, resigned. “It is the same,” you said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Because I love her no matter what she does by accident. And I…”

The words got stuck in your throat. I love you.

But you couldn’t say them. Not now. Not when he was looking at you like he was the monster under your bed, the thing you should fear, when all you could see was the boy who had once held your hand in the dark just to make sure you weren’t afraid.

You just watched him.

Watched the way his jaw was clenched so tightly it could shatter. Watched the way his hands still trembled, despite his best efforts. Watched the way his brows furrowed in that deep, pained way that made your chest ache.

And then, in the silence, you spoke.

“You do realize that when we used to sleep together, I kicked you, like…constantly, right?”

That startled him. His eyes widened, his brows pulling together in confusion. “What?”

A small, tired smile ghosted across your lips. “You don’t complain much, but I know I do. I kick in my sleep. I shift around. I always end up tangled in the blankets, stealing all the covers.” You let out a soft, almost self-conscious chuckle. “There was one night you woke up because I kneed you in the ribs. Hard.”

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and you saw it—the moment he obviously remembered.

His lips parted, his breath hitching slightly. “You—yeah.” His voice was barely audible, but it had lost some of its sharp edges. “You kicked me so hard I nearly fell off the bed.”

You nodded. “And did you get mad at me?”

His brows furrowed. “Of course not. You were asleep.”

“Exactly.” You tilted your head, ignoring the way the ice sent another sharp pulse of cold through your skin. “I never meant to hurt you, but I still did. Just like you never meant to hurt me.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes flicking between yours, something raw and hesitant creeping into his expression.

“It’s different,” he said, but the conviction in his voice was weaker now.

“Is it?” you challenged softly. “I know you, Spencer. I know who you are.”

Oh no, you didn’t know him. Not really. Not anymore.

His breath shuddered, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, his eyes searching your face like he was looking for something—proof, maybe, or forgiveness. Maybe both.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him again, this time taking his hand in both of yours. He let you. He didn’t pull away.

“You’re not a violent person,” you whispered. “You are not the things that have happened to you years ago. You are not the things you’ve had to do to see in your work. You are not the nightmares that try to tell you otherwise.”

His fingers twitched beneath yours, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly.

For the first time since he had woken up, his shoulders sagged—just slightly, but enough for you to see the weight of his guilt beginning to lift, piece by piece. Even though he knew that if you knew what had happened in the last three months, those words would not have come out of your mouth.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, like a prayer.

“I know,” you whispered back. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them.

Without thinking, your fingers lifted, brushing against the sharp line of his jaw. The warmth of his skin seeped into your fingertips, grounding you both. You had done this before—when the weight of the world had pressed too heavily on his shoulders, when the ghosts in his mind grew too loud to ignore. You had kissed his tears away in the past, stolen moments of comfort from the chaos.

And so, you did it again.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips gently against the corner of his eye, where a fresh tear lingered. The warmth of his skin felt almost feverish beneath your touch, as though his entire body was caught in the grip of a storm. Your lips brushed the salty trail of his tear, and another followed almost instantly. Without thinking, you kissed it too, your lips lingering a moment longer, offering a tenderness that neither of you had allowed yourselves in so long. The sweetness of the moment almost made you forget the ache in your chest and the bruise on your cheek.

He shuddered beneath your touch, a sharp breath catching in his throat. You felt the tension ripple through him, the way he stiffened for just a second—caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to collapse into you.

And then, as if it were inevitable, your lips brushed against his, just a breath away. You could feel the heat of his skin, the pulse of his heartbeat under your fingers. You were so close, closer than you’d been in so long, closer than you’d dared to let yourself believe was possible.

Your heart pounded. His did too.

His lashes fluttered, his gaze locked onto yours, searching, hesitant.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. The words were barely audible, spoken like they might break if said any louder. “Tell me to get away from you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

And for a fleeting second, he was just a boy, and you were just the girl next door. No past, no pain, no history—just this.

Or maybe not.

The reality crashed back in, and all the things you didn’t know came back to his mind.

The ice pack in his hand had started to burn from how tightly he was gripping it, and the cold sting jolted him back to the truth he was trying so hard to ignore. His gaze darted to the bruise on your cheek, and in an instant, everything shifted.

He wasn’t just a boy.

He was an ex-convict. Someone dangerous. Someone broken. A liar.

And the only thing he could give the girl next door was more pain.

Spencer flinched as though struck, his entire body going rigid as he ripped himself away from you. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest rising and falling too fast, as if he were surfacing from deep water. The ice pack slipped slightly in his grip, like it had suddenly become too heavy to hold.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice trembling, the words choked with anguish. His eyes darted to the mark on your cheek, his expression twisted with guilt. “I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have even—God, what am I doing?”

“Wait—” You reached for him again, but he was already retreating, shaking his head in frantic, jerky motions.

“No,” he muttered, his voice fraying at the edges. “No, I can’t—I shouldn’t even be near you.” His fingers tightened around the ice pack like it was a lifeline, like it could somehow build a wall between you. “You shouldn’t let me touch you. Not after what I just did. What I did yesterday. What I might do.”

“You were dreaming,” you tried again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, but there was no anger in it. Just raw, unfiltered pain. His whole body seemed to sag under the weight of it. He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It doesn’t matter why it happened. What matters is that it did. I hurt you.”

He did it even when he was so afraid that someone else would do it.

“It was an accident.”

“But it was me.” His voice rose in despair, his hands clenching at his sides. “I did it. My hands. I can’t—” He gestured wildly at your cheek, his breath hitching. “I can’t undo that.”

You didn't say anything.

The room felt impossibly small, as if the walls were closing in with every passing second. The silence between you stretched taut, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of something neither of you had the strength to name. The air was thick with the faint scent of coffee—bitter, stale, clinging to the space around you. Your gaze drifted past him, landing on the nightstand beside his bed.

Coffee cups. So many of them.

You didn’t count them, but the number didn’t matter. It was the stains at the bottom that told the real story—the dark rings of dried coffee, layer upon layer, marking the passage of sleepless nights. Some of the cups were only half-empty, abandoned mid-drink, as if exhaustion had finally won for a brief moment before panic dragged him back into consciousness. Others were drained completely, the last dregs of caffeine clinging stubbornly, as if trying to hold on to something already lost.

It wasn’t just coffee, though.

Books stacked haphazardly, some opened and left facedown, pages creased from where his shaking hands had clutched them too tightly. Papers covered in his cramped, hurried handwriting, words scrawled over and over as though writing them down might keep the memories from slipping through the cracks. A pen, its tip snapped, the ink dried into a small, angry blotch on a forgotten page.

And then, at the edge of it all, the only thing untouched—the single glass of water, still full, still waiting. Like it had been set aside with the intention of being drunk but never was. Because he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember he needed it, even with his wonderful memory.

He had been trying not to sleep.

The realization struck like a blade slipping between your ribs, slow and deliberate, the pain blooming in your chest before you had time to brace for it. You inhaled sharply, the sound barely audible over the steady hum of your own heartbeat. When you looked back at him, you saw it—the exhaustion carved into his features like cracks in porcelain, the dark circles beneath his eyes deep enough to tell their own stories. His hands were trembling, his fingers curled into fists at his sides as if he were trying to hold himself together, piece by piece, before he shattered completely.

This wasn’t just sleeplessness. This was obsession. This was someone running from something, from himself.

And you hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Spencer…” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but everything felt too small, too inadequate for the storm raging inside him. “What’s going on with you?”

He flinched, like you’d struck him, but didn’t answer. His fingers curled around the ice pack again, knuckles white with tension. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt.

You stepped closer, your heart hammering in your chest, but you didn’t move to touch him. Not yet. Not until he let you in. “This isn’t just about tonight, is it?”

Still, nothing. No answer, no hint of recognition. His eyes remained fixed somewhere just beyond you, a million miles away, a stranger in his own skin.

You tried again, your voice softer this time, as though the gentleness might coax him out of his silence. “When was the last time you actually slept?”

That got a reaction. His gaze flickered to you, but only for a second, before he tore it away, staring somewhere over your shoulder like he could pretend he wasn’t here at all. His silence spoke volumes.

Your chest ached. “Spence.”

“I can handle it,” he murmured, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“You’re not handling it,” you countered softly. “You’re barely holding yourself together.”

His lips twisted into something bitter, the words tasting like acid as they spilled out. “That’s nothing new.”

The bitterness in his tone made your stomach twist. You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Talk to me,” you pleaded, voice gentle but firm. “Please. Whatever it is—whatever’s been keeping you up at night, whatever’s making you pull away—I want to know.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t.”

“I do.”

“No, you really don’t.” His voice cracked, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were haunted. “Because if you knew—if you really knew—you wouldn’t be standing here.”

Your heart stopped.

“What does that mean?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't answer, he just kept looking at you like you were made of glass, as if one wrong word would break you entirely. But that wasn’t it, was it? No—there was something deeper, something raw and frayed at the edges, something desperate.

He wasn’t looking at you like you might break.

He was looking at you like he might.

Then you understand something: Spencer Reid wasn’t someone to be afraid of, because he was afraid.

Just like you had been since he left you in his bed three months ago, with a promise that felt more like a lie with every passing day.

[bamgyuuuri]

May I request a Beomgyu x alt singer!reader?

Kai finally forms the band he’s been dreaming of and introduces his friend group(txt) to the band members before a gig. I’ve rarely seen fics that have the reader as the alt band member, normally it’s the other way around and I think you’d do great with this scenario!! It being in Gyu’s pov would be great to see his reaction/attraction to her. The piercings and dark tones, similar to ox1=lovesong gyu. Thank you!!!🖤 absolutely love your writing style

Sorry that this is long or doesn’t make sense😭

⸝⸝ she plays bass ┈ cbg.

⸝⸝ now playing : she plays bass - beabadoobee

pairings and tags. altsinger!reader x admirer!beomgyu. love at first sight . beomgyu is absolutely and hilariously whipped . meet-cute . band shenanigans . underground music scene-esque

word count. 4.3k

short note! HIII AAAA thank you so much for this req omg im so sorry this took so so long <////3 i hope this is to your liking !!! i tried a little something different for the way i wrote this too so please do lmk what you think ~~

alt!reader, clad in a ripped mesh top over a cropped band tee, her plaid skirt layered over fishnet tights, heavy platform boots clicking against the pavement. silver rings adorned her fingers, chunky chains around her neck, an eyebrow piercing glinting under the dim venue lights. 

kai caught sight of her immediately, eyes widening as if he had just discovered a hidden gem. without hesitation, he strode over, curiosity buzzing in his voice as he asked, “do you play anything? sing, maybe? my band needs someone like you.”

alt!reader, who, despite the intimidating dark makeup and sharp aesthetic, grinned so brightly it made kai blink. oh, he thought. she’s cute. “ah, i can sing, and i play bass too!” she said, her voice laced with excitement. kai nearly whooped, clapping his hands together before grabbing her arm. “you’re in. no take-backs.”

alt!reader, who showed up to their first rehearsal with her bass slung over her shoulder, the strap decorated with a mix of pins—some band logos, some just random little trinkets that probably had stories behind them. kai had expected her to be more reserved, but she fit in immediately, laughing with the drummer within minutes, teasing him about his tempo.

“it’s supposed to sound like a heartbeat, not like you’re summoning a demon,” she quipped, smirking.

the lead guitarist snorted. “talk big, but let’s see if you can actually play, rockstar.”

she did. and she was good.

but then she sang.

and suddenly, good wasn’t the right word anymore.

her voice was rich, effortlessly smooth, with this raw, husky edge that sent chills down their spines. it wasn’t just strong—it was soulful, the kind that lingered, that made you feel every note deep in your chest. the moment she opened her mouth, the energy in the room shifted, the air growing heavier with something indescribable.

the drummer, who had been leaning against his kit with arms crossed, straightened. the lead guitarist, mid-strum, fumbled a chord, eyes snapping up to her like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. and kai—kai just grinned, wide and triumphant, as if he had struck gold.

“holy shit,” the drummer breathed.

alt!reader, who didn’t even seem to realize the way she had just stunned them into silence, finished the verse with an easy smile. “was that okay?”

“okay?” kai sputtered, half-laughing. “you just obliterated us.”

the days leading up to their first gig blurred into a whirlwind of rehearsals, late-night music discussions, and endless inside jokes. kai was quick to text alt!reader memes about bassists getting overshadowed (she always replied with a dramatic “T_T”), the lead guitarist gave her pointers on performing, and the drummer—grudgingly impressed—finally admitted, “okay, you might actually be cooler than kai.”

alt!reader, who always showed up in some new variation of her signature look—some days it was a shredded fishnet top over a vintage band tee, other days a plaid mini skirt with safety pins fastened haphazardly along the hem. her accessories were never the same, either; she rotated between spiked chokers, stacked silver chains, and chunky bracelets that clanked against her bass when she played. kai couldn’t help but wonder if she had an endless wardrobe of ripped tights and combat boots.

but the biggest contradiction? she was sweet. unbearably sweet.

despite her sharp eyeliner and leather jackets, she was the kind of person who brought snacks to practice without being asked, stuffing a bag of candy into kai’s hands with a nonchalant, “figured you’d forget to eat.” she’d send good morning texts in the group chat, complete with emojis, and gave the drummer a comforting pat on the back whenever he got frustrated with a beat.

alt!reader would chew on the end of her guitar pick when thinking, doodle song lyrics in the margins of her notebook (sometimes with tiny, smiling doodles beside them), and could never say no when an other band member complained about carrying equipment. “fine, fine, i got it,” she’d sigh, dramatically rolling her eyes—but then she’d take the amp without hesitation.

“you do realize you’re ruining your entire intimidating vibe, right?” kai teased once, watching her tie up the drummer’s shoelace because he hadn’t noticed it was undone.

“what vibe?” she blinked, tilting her head.

kai simply sighed. this girl has no idea how cool she is.

then the night of the gig arrived.

the venue buzzed with anticipation, the walls lined with stickers and scrawled signatures from past performers. neon lights flickered overhead, casting a hazy glow against the graffiti-splattered walls. kai could hear the low murmur of the crowd beyond the stage, the occasional burst of laughter, the clinking of drinks against sticky counters.

backstage, their small green room was packed with an energy that was half excitement, half nerves. the drummer tapped an anxious rhythm against his thigh, the lead guitarist double-checked his tuning for what had to be the fifth time, and kai, keyboardist extraordinaire, paced the length of the room with his hands clasped together like he was deep in prayer.

“we’re not about to die out there,” alt!reader teased, watching kai with amusement as she lounged against the armrest of a battered couch.

kai stopped mid-pace, pointing at her. “says the person who’s been chilling like she’s about to play an after-school talent show instead of our first real gig.”

she shrugged, adjusting the strap of her bass as if she hadn’t a single care in the world. “i mean, i did say i wasn’t nervous.”

the drummer let out a low whistle. “wish i had whatever confidence potion you’re drinking.”

she grinned, offering him a fingerless-gloved fist bump. “it’s called believing in the fact that we’re actually good.”

the lead guitarist snorted. “or maybe you’re just built different.”

alt!reader, who was looking every bit the part of the effortlessly cool rockstar—shredded tights, oversized band tee slipping off one shoulder, dark lipstick slightly smudged from the hours before, silver rings gleaming against her fingers—flashed them all a knowing smile.

“a little bit of both,” she admitted.

laughter filled the room, light and easy, shaking off any last remnants of nervous tension. they were ready.

and then, as if on cue, the green room door creaked open.

kai’s friends had arrived.

soobin stepped in first, towering as usual, followed by yeonjun, who immediately scanned the room like he owned the place. taehyun was behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets, his ever-observant gaze taking in everything. and then—

beomgyu walked in.

and his entire world stopped spinning.

he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when kai had texted, come meet the band i formed! we rock!, but it definitely wasn’t this.

his breath hitched.

their bassist was stunning.

it wasn’t just the way she looked—though, god, the way she looked. the shredded tights, the chains, the band tee that hung just right, the dark kohl around her eyes that only made them more piercing. the way she was sitting, draped over the couch like she belonged there, one booted foot resting atop the coffee table, fingers idly twirling a guitar pick.

but it was more than that. it was the energy she carried, this effortless kind of presence that demanded attention without even trying.

beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat.

no, actually, it tripped over itself and fell flat on its face.

she turned then, looking up at them with a casual ease, her lips curling into the kind of smirk that should not have made his stomach flip.

“so,” she drawled, tilting her head. “you must be kai’s friends.”

her voice.

oh, he was done for.

kai gestured between them all, oblivious to the way beomgyu was currently having an out-of-body experience. “this is soobin, yeonjun, taehyun, and that one—” he pointed at beomgyu, who was still staring, still reeling—“is beomgyu.”

he was pretty sure kai said something else after that, but beomgyu didn’t hear a single word.

because she was looking right at him now, those sharp, lined eyes meeting his with an unreadable glint.

“beomgyu, huh?” she mused, and the way his name rolled off her tongue—casual, lazy, like she already had him figured out—sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine.

and then, before he could even think of how to respond, she smiled.

not the cool, knowing smirk from before. a real one. soft, warm, completely contradicting everything about the way she dressed.

beomgyu’s jaw? gone. his heart? somewhere in the floorboards. his entire existence? irreversibly altered.

he was in so much trouble.

kai’s friends settled in quickly, claiming whatever empty seats or spots against the walls they could find. the room felt even smaller now, the buzz of conversation filling the space, overlapping in a way that made it feel alive.

soobin and yeonjun hit it off with the drummer almost immediately, something about shared music tastes and mutual complaints about how kai was the most chaotic bandmate to exist. taehyun had already fallen into an easy conversation with the lead guitarist, both of them equally sharp-tongued, exchanging witty remarks like a verbal game of ping-pong.

and beomgyu?

beomgyu was barely breathing.

he had settled into a spot on the floor near the edge of the group, but god, he wasn’t really there. not fully. his body was present, sure—nodding at the right moments, chuckling when he was supposed to—but his mind?

completely occupied. by her.

she was right there, close enough that he could pick up the faint scent of something floral—unexpected, unfair, intoxicating.

she was expressive when she spoke, hands moving fluidly as she told some story about a past gig she had gone to. her rings caught the dim lighting every time her fingers moved, and beomgyu was watching, entranced, like the glint of silver was some kind of hypnotic spell.

and her laugh.

it wasn’t the kind he expected. it wasn’t sharp, or mocking, or cool and distant. it was bright. warm. the kind of laugh that made you want to lean in just to hear it again.

“beomgyu,” taehyun’s voice cut through his daze like a needle popping a soap bubble.

he blinked, realizing a second too late that everyone was looking at him now.

“huh?”

“i asked if you play anything,” alt!reader said, and beomgyu swore his brain short-circuited for a moment because she was the one talking to him now. her gaze was steady, her head slightly tilted, awaiting his response.

his mouth opened. closed. opened again.

what was the question again?

kai rolled his eyes. “he plays guitar. won’t admit he’s good, but he is.”

“oh?” her lips curled, something amused dancing behind her eyes. “a guitarist?”

beomgyu swallowed, nodding. “yeah. a little.”

her smirk deepened. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

his heart absolutely crashed into his ribcage. “here,” alt!reader said, effortlessly plucking one of the electric guitars resting nearby and holding it out to him.

beomgyu stared at it. then at her. then at it again.

“c’mon,” she urged, her voice light, teasing—but not in a mean way. there was warmth in it, in the way she smiled at him, like she actually wanted to hear him play. “i wanna see if kai’s hyping you up for nothing.”

beomgyu let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. as if. his hands moved on their own, reaching out to take the guitar, fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. and god. her skin was warm, like she carried the heat of the stage lights in her fingertips.

“no pressure,” she added, leaning forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm. “but i will judge.”

the others laughed, but beomgyu barely processed it. because all he could focus on was the way her eyes were on him. the way her expression held something playful, but patient, like she had all the time in the world for him to start.

he cleared his throat, adjusting his grip.

he had played in front of people before. his friends, random music store employees when testing out instruments, the occasional school events.

but somehow, this felt different.

beomgyu strums a chord, testing, letting the sound hum through the air. he wasn’t even sure what he was going to play until his fingers started moving, muscle memory taking over. a riff he always fell back on, something familiar, something easy—but her expression changed the moment he started playing.

her gaze flickered to his hands, the playful challenge melting into something softer.

interest.

appreciation.

maybe even a little bit of… awe?

“oh, he’s good good,” she murmured, mostly to herself, but beomgyu caught it anyway. and he felt it—felt the way his face warmed, how his pulse picked up speed at the way she looked at him now.

he should probably focus on not messing up.

but with the way she was watching him?

it was impossible. the moment beomgyu strummed the final note, the room erupted. cheers, whistles, claps—the lead guitarist dramatically pumping his fist in the air, the drummer banging out a quick rhythm against the couch, while soobin, yeonjun, and taehyun only nods approvingly like they have known beomgyu was hiding talent all along.

“okay, okay!” kai grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “i take back all the times i’ve called you a fake musician.”

beomgyu scoffed, shaking his head, but he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed—not when the adrenaline was still thrumming under his skin, not when his heart was still trying to steady itself after playing under her gaze.

alt!reader, who was still watching him, arms crossed, lips curled.

“i gotta say,” she mused, tilting her head, “you’ve got some serious skills.” beomgyu let out a breathy chuckle, hoping she couldn’t tell just how wrecked he was by those words alone. she extended a fist toward him, the glint of her rings catching the low light. “respect.”

he stared at it for a half-second longer than he should have before knocking his own fist against hers, ignoring the way his pulse jumped at the brief contact. “you know,” alt!reader then adds, grinning as she leaned back casually against the wall, “beomgyu could totally replace our lead guitarist. i mean, seriously, look at that performance.”

the lead guitarist nearly choked on his drink, immediately sitting up straighter, his brows furrowing in mock offense. “hey! i’m right here, you know!”

“yeah, but—” alt!reader raised a brow, teasing. “what do you even do, other than make dramatic faces during every solo?”

“i play solos!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “i’m an artist!”

“an artist? more like a drama queen.” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at him. the bickering continued, light-hearted, with alt!reader tossing sarcastic jabs and the lead guitarist firing back just as quickly. but in the middle of it all, beomgyu couldn’t hear any of it.

he was too busy basking in the compliment.

replace the lead guitarist?

her saying that?

beomgyu couldn’t help it—his heart swelled, his chest felt a little lighter. he glanced over at her, catching the way her eyes sparkled as she teased the others, the playful tilt of her head, the curve of her lips. she wasn’t just joking—she meant it, and beomgyu’s brain was absolutely swimming in that simple, perfect thought.

just as everybody was starting to get lost in the flow of their conversations, the door to the green room creaked open.

a worker, looking harried but friendly, poked her head inside, holding a clipboard in one hand. “hey, last act’s almost done,” she called, drawing everyone’s attention. “be ready to get up in five!” as the worker’s voice cut through the energy of the room, everybody’s pulse heightened. kai stood up first, stretching his arms with an exaggerated groan. “alright, let’s do this!” he said, his usual confident grin plastered on his face. his voice was already rising, bouncing off the walls, and somehow it made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

the drummer was next to move, pushing off the couch with a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders like a boxer before a match. he cracked his knuckles one last time, shaking out his hands before turning to the lead guitarist with a lopsided smirk. “don’t mess up.”

the lead guitarist scoffed, rolling his eyes but still reaching out to bump his fist against the drummer’s. “i never mess up,” he said, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed how much he actually cared about the small exchange.

kai, ever the ringleader, ruffled the drummer’s hair out of nowhere, much to the latter’s loud protests. “alright, alright, enough of your little bromance,” he teased, dodging a half-hearted swing in retaliation. then, he clapped his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the lingering conversation. his voice, always carrying that effortless bravado, filled the room. “you guys know what time it is.”

the energy shifted instantly.

the band members exchanged knowing grins, their movements instinctive, their roles in this pre-show ritual long established. it was a tradition at this point—one that settled nerves and locked them into the moment.

just then, soobin, taehyun, and yeonjun—who had been watching from the side—stepped forward, effortlessly blending into the moment like they belonged there too.

“don’t screw it up,” taehyun quipped, smirking as he crossed his arms.

“real motivational, thanks,” kai deadpanned, shaking his head.

soobin, who had been observing the whole thing with a thoughtful nod, finally spoke. “nah, you guys are gonna kill it.”

“obviously,” yeonjun added with a confident tilt of his head, the corners of his mouth curling into an easy grin.

“but if you do mess up,” taehyun said, lips twitching as he leaned just a little closer, “just make it look cool.”

“that’s the whole plan, actually,” the drummer joked, flexing his fingers like he was warming up for a fight.

alt!reader, who had been adjusting the strap of her bass, let out an exaggerated sigh at their antics but stepped forward anyway, shaking her head with a smile. “you guys are so ridiculous,” she mumbled, though the fondness in her voice softened the words.

the lead guitarist was the first to extend his hands, palms up, an unspoken signal.

without hesitation, the others followed suit, stacking their hands on top of his, one after the other. kai’s ring-clad fingers tapped impatiently against the back of alt!reader’s hand, the drummer squeezed just a little too tight, and the lead guitarist—ever dramatic—wiggled his fingers under the pile like he was casting a spell.

the weight of their hands felt grounding, each one a familiar presence, a quiet reminder of why they were here—why they did this in the first place.

“alright,” kai said, eyes sweeping over his bandmates. “on three.”

the anticipation buzzed in the air, thick with something unspoken—adrenaline, excitement, the kind of bond that came from sharing the same dream and chasing it together.

“one,” the drummer started, voice steady.

“two,” alt!reader followed, grinning through the static in her chest.

“three!” they all yelled at once, throwing their hands into the air.

the room erupted into laughter, but beneath it all was something steadier—a quiet understanding, a reassurance. they had each other’s backs, no matter what.

alt!reader exhaled, adjusting the hem of her oversized band tee, rolling her shoulders as she shook her arms out. the nerves were still there, humming just beneath her skin, but they didn’t weigh her down. if anything, they made her sharper, more alive.

as the others made their way toward the door, she lingered for a second, taking it all in—the dimly lit green room, the hum of the crowd growing louder beyond the walls, the faint scent of old leather and stage lights, the rush of knowing she was about to step onto that stage again. she was ready.

then, just as she turned to leave, a voice—hesitant, barely above the noise—stopped her in her tracks.

“hey.”

she turned, only to find beomgyu standing there, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket.

his heart was racing. he could feel it hammering against his ribs, beating against his throat. he had been quiet the entire time, watching her, completely lost in the way she carried herself—unshaken, unwavering, effortlessly cool in a way that made his head spin.

she looked at him expectantly, tilting her head ever so slightly, her dark lipstick still slightly smudged, her rings glinting under the low, flickering light. she had been grinning and teasing all night, but right now, in this moment, she was just waiting for whatever he was about to say.

beomgyu swallowed hard, summoning every last ounce of courage he had left.

“good… good luck,” he managed, voice steady but soft.

she blinked, then her expression melted into something warm, something that made the corners of her eyes crinkle just slightly.

“thanks,” she said, and god, he wasn’t ready for the way she smiled at him—the way her eyes lingered, just for a second, like she actually cared that he was here. like she saw him.

then, before he could even think to respond, she lifted a hand and ruffled his hair—just once, quick but impossibly gentle—before slipping out the door to join the others.

beomgyu stood there, rooted to the spot, his pulse thundering in his ears.

he barely registered kai’s voice shouting something from the hallway, barely noticed the way the door swung shut behind her. all he could focus on was the ghost of her touch lingering at the crown of his head and the realization that he had never, in his entire life, been this enamored.

as soon as everybody went on their separate ways as they went up, the venue was alive. the air was thick with anticipation, humming with the restless energy of a crowd on the verge of something explosive. voices mingled in excited murmurs, some impatiently tapping their feet, others already pushing closer to the front, eager to be swallowed by the music when it finally began.

near the back, beomgyu stood with the rest, the four of them tucked just far enough from the densest part of the crowd to have a clear view of the stage. the dim, pulsing lights painted streaks of color over their faces, their shadows stretching long over the worn wooden floors.

beomgyu felt… off-kilter. antsy in a way he couldn’t quite explain. his fingers twitched in his jacket pockets, his pulse thrumming just a little too fast for comfort. it wasn’t nerves—he wasn’t even performing—but something in the air had his senses on high alert.

then, the lights dimmed.

the restless chatter of the audience dipped for half a breath.

and that’s when she walked out.

alt!reader stepped onto the stage like she owned it, her movements easy, effortless—like the weight of all those expectant eyes on her meant nothing. she rolled her shoulders once, adjusting the strap of her bass where it hung low against her hip, her rings flashing under the stage lights.

and then she looked up.

gone was the dull hum of anticipation—replaced instead by something sharp, something immediate.

a ripple of recognition moved through the crowd, people cheering before a single note had even been played. the atmosphere cracked like static before a storm.

she brought a hand up to her mic, tilting her head slightly, her lips curling into something slow, something knowing.

then, her voice—low, teasing, brimming with something electric—cut through the charged silence like a blade.

“are you ready?”

it wasn’t a question, no—it was pure energy, poured into a few simple words, and it sent a shockwave through the venue.

and the response was immediate.

the crowd roared, bodies surging forward, hands shooting into the air.

soobin let out a low whistle. yeonjun muttered something under his breath that was lost beneath the chaos. taehyun just grinned, watching it all unfold with the kind of amused knowing that made beomgyu’s stomach twist.

the band shifted behind her, instruments poised, breaths held.

a pause.

then—

the first note dropped like a thunderclap.

the lead guitarist’s fingers tore across the strings, unleashing a riff so sharp it felt like it could cut through bone. the drummer came in a split second later, slamming into the rhythm like he was trying to break through the sound barrier, the bass kicking in with a force that rattled the floor beneath their feet.

the room exploded.

but beomgyu barely noticed.

because the second the music surged to life, alt!reader moved.

her head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut for half a breath—

and then she sang.

beomgyu’s entire world tilted.

his breath caught.

his pulse stuttered.

he hadn’t known.

through all the moments he had spent watching her—through the teasing remarks, the playful bickering, the easy grins and sharp-witted comebacks—he had never once considered the possibility—

that she was the vocalist.

and god, her voice.

raw. powerful. brimming with something deep, something primal.

it wasn’t just singing.

it was commanding.

it was a reckoning. a tidal wave of sound crashing over the room, leaving no space for escape—only surrender. it seized every breath, every heartbeat, wrapped around every single person in the audience like invisible chains, commanding their attention, demanding devotion.

she owned this space.

no, she was this space.

the music didn’t just belong to her—it was her. every note, every breath, every aching pause was something pulled straight from her veins, something raw and untamed, something alive. she wasn’t just singing it—she was unleashing it. becoming it. burning with it.

“heol,” soobin breathed, his eyes wide.

yeonjun turned to taehyun, nudging him with his elbow. “man, he’s so done for.”

taehyun just chuckled, not even bothering to hide his knowing smirk.

“oh, yeah,” he muttered. “completely wrecked.”

beomgyu barely heard them.

he was too busy staring, completely, utterly spellbound.

because she was glowing under the stage lights, radiating something untouchable, something electric—

and beomgyu?

beomgyu was completely and utterly doomed.

꒰🧸꒱ @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia , @frankghgr, @dawngyu, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @sxmmerberries, @napipope-ta, @bamgeutori, @xylatox, @hyunj00 <3 (click here if you would like to be added ><)

[gracie-eilish]

Hii!💓

I saw your post about the Taylor Billie crossover and that’s such a cute idea!!!! I thought maybe you could write a fic inspired by seven. (smth about homophobic parents and reader goes to live with Billie. Like the bridge)

Please don’t feel pressured to write this xx

i think you should come live with me… and we could be pirates ✨🌿🌙🤍🪐

warnings: mention of homophobic parents, i tried to keep it as light and fluffy as i could!!it’s kinda long as well! i didn’t wanna break it into two parts lol!

an: thank you for the request!! i’m so sorry it took so long to get out😭😭 this song means a lot to me and my friends as i’m sure it does to a lot of people so i wanted it to be good!! i hope you like it!🫣🤞☺️

an: two fics in one day!! woo!! i’m working my way through requests and tryinggg to finish up some other long fics (my peachy babies i see you and it’s happening i promise!!) thank you as always for ur patience. also just wanted to say thanks for the love this last month!! it’s been almost a month since i started posting and i love it here:) anywhosies!! here’s seven.

august 13th, 6:57pm, Coopersburg, PA.

the babble of the creek beneath you, the squeaking of the tire swing, and the birds chirping created a melody, sweeter than any song billie had written before. and mixed with the sound of your sweet giggles, billie was sure she was in heaven.

the sun was starting to drift under the horizon giving the sky a gorgeous coral hue, mixed with a hint of violet and navy, but not too dark yet. the air was warm, like a fluffy blanket straight out of the dryer.

“billie!! you’re going too high!! i’m too scared to jump!!” you squealed, giggling furiously. your braids billie had done for you earlier flew behind you as billie pushed the swing again, sending you higher, making you feel like you were flying amongst the trees.

billie grabbed the rope, slowing down the swing so she could be level with you again. you looked over at her before grabbing her arm and pulling her closer, before sealing the gap between you with a kiss. billie wrapped her arms around your waist, melting into your arms, only pulling away when you both smiled into the kiss. you tasted like the sweet tea you had been drinking, your mason jar now sat forgotten on a rock nearby.

“hi mama,” she whispered onto her lips, making you blush furiously and scrunch your nose. she pecked your nose before maneuvering you on the swing so she could sit too, pulling you onto her lap. one arm draped around your waist and the other holding the swings rope.

“baby can i talk to you about something?” billie started, a nervous edge to her voice. you turned your head, a curious yet concerned look in your eye, nodding for her to continue.

“how umm… how are your parents lately?” she held her breath waiting for you to answer.

your parents. how you loved them dearly.. until they stopped loving you. they said they still did, but their words and actions and beliefs said differently.

a few years back you had innocently asked your mom about how she knew she liked boys. your mom just looked at you funny, saying that every girl likes boys… there’s no question about it. that’s how god made girls. girls grow up and fall in love with boys, and become wives, and mothers, and that’s how it goes.

sensing her edge you backed off, retreating to your room that night feeling more confused than ever. if you weren’t supposed to like girls… then why did you feel this way?? why did your heart beat faster around them, and why do your hands get so sweaty near them, and why do you get nauseous thinking about being a man’s wife one day, but melt into a puddle thinking about being a woman’s wife one day….

falling in love with a woman, sleeping next to a woman, holding her, touching her, kissing her, making love to her…. walking down the aisle to her, holding her hand while bringing your babies into the world with her, raising those children with her, growing old with her…

as you got older it became harder to hide. it was obvious to anyone with eyes. especially after you met billie. i mean who wouldn’t fall in love with her?

you’re parents found out about you and billie when they caught you kissing one night out back. you had told them that you two were gonna go look at stars, and planets, and you did… just the ones in her eyes instead of the sky.

because they “still had love for you,” they sent billie home and had a long talk with you about your choices. and though you don’t try to recall them, you’ll never forget the things your parents said to you that night. you hid in your room and called billie panicking. you didn’t want to love anyone else, you couldn’t…

so you and billie continued dating in secret. only meeting up in secret locations and having perfect alibis if your parents caught on. while you still lived at home, and luckily your parents didn’t suspect a thing, you cried every night. you wanted so badly to escape, to be free from them. to be free…

“umm.. they’re good i guess. getting older sooo you know. they’re getting weird with me growing up and all that i guess. i’m looking forwards to moving out one day though.” billie nodded and gave your waist a squeeze before setting her chin on your shoulder.

you let out a watery laugh, “my mom keeps trying to set me up with all the church guys. even if i wasn’t gay they’re sooo just not cute.” billie raised her eyebrows and laughed with you.

“really? and what do you find cute missy?” billie teased. you played this game a lot. one of you would describe what you wanted in a girlfriend… and it was just you describing the other.

“wellllllll, i love a girl who’s kind and funny, and she would have these big blue eyes, like little sea crystals, and dark hair that compliments her skin so perfectly. and the cutest little button nose you could ever imagine, and it’s decorated with teensy little freckles. and she would have pink pillowy lips that are impossible not to kiss. ooh and if she could have little dimples that would be a great bonus. WAIT omg and she would sing.” you finished with a smile that said “ta da!!” billie smiled back, cheeks flushed before kissing your own cheek.

“mmm i love you to the moon billie eilish pirate baird o’connell,” you sighed, leaning back into her.

“and i love you to saturn y/f/n y/m/n o’connell,” she murmured back, nose grazing your jaw. you sat back up in shock, turning to face her with the biggest smile on your face. you were totally speechless though, trying to get out a thought.

“y/n?”

“yes?”

“i think you should come live with me… and we could be pirates,” she added playfully.

“then you won’t have to cry… or hide in the closet,” she said softly. your smile faltered a bit, not in disappointment but in shock. you knew billie’s family loved you, and you were old enough to be on your own.

“really?” you whispered. billie nodded with a small smile.

“run away with me lovey. pack your jellycats and a sweater. we’ll move you away from there forever.”

you practically pounced onto her, kissing her so fiercely.

“we can’t tell anyone. other than your family of course.”

“cross my heart, won’t tell no other.” billie promised, crossing over her heart with her finger.

your love would last so long…

years later…

august 22nd, 6:48 pm, Los Angeles, CA

you and billie were laid out among the weeds in the grass, billie sat with her hands behind her, while your back was to her front, sitting in between her legs.

“you know, i still remember hiding in that field back in PA. i can still picture you in the trees… high in the sky on that old swing.”

you hummed a small laugh, closing your eyes at the memory. your little hiding spot all those years ago. you now both lay in a similar spot, near your home in LA. after living with Billie’s family for a few years, the two of you moved out together to your own place.

“mama!!” you opened your eyes at the little voice.

“mama look!! im a pirate!!” your little baby boy, not so little anymore, had one of billie bandanas tied on his head and a stick in his hand as his sword. he showed off his best pirate poses making you and billie giggle.

“buddy you are the best pirate out there!!” billie said to him, fixing the much too big bandana on his little head.

“do you think sissy will wanna be a pirate?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

your hand went to your baby bump where “sissy” resided.

“you know buddy, i’m not sure yet. but i’m sure she would love to,” you said, softly caressing his little face. he smiled before running back to his spot, continuing his pirate adventure.

as the two of you watched your little boy play around, billie leaned down to press kisses to your cheek, your eyes closing in total bliss, and she brought her own hand to your growing bump.

“i love you to the moon mrs. o’connell,” she whispered into your ear. the name still making you blush after all this time.

“and i love you to saturn.”

your love would last so long…

✨🌿🌙🤍🪐

[euphoria-looney]

Uie wait so if ever when they start to go yandere for the reader, what happens to Serena? Or what is her deal basically? Is the entire thing from powers or their own volition or something? Are they being controlled by someone else? I'm kind of invested in the fic now OvO

Or, if ever, would reader go back for one of the love interest once they go yandere or are the love interests still the same? Will they turn yandere too or will they just be the same? Admittedly I just want them all to grovel and I really want reader to make them all suffer 👉👈

Thank you for your 'who said money can't buy happiness?' fic because it activated my neurons I live the manwha concept (no matter how much it boils my blood in the good ptsd manner everytime I read it) but also I really want another crumb of og!villainess/villain!reader because they really softened my heart, the entire thing reminds me of that one manwha with the fmc Penelope Eckart

Sorry for being long! I hope your day goes great and thank you for writing such lovely pieces of literature!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

For the first question, "What happens when they all go yandere on [name], and what happens to Serena?" They still care for her and they still love her but it’s just not as strong as it used to be especially with [name] changed now being the main character of the story her story, Serena will be on a balanced scale whether she still wants to be the center of attention and whether she wants [names] attention only on her and find everyone else as competitors.

The second question, "What's her deal?" Her deal is that that’s just how she behaves and how she acts from the moment she kinda existed in this universe she has a main character role and she obviously doesn’t know that she’s inside a novel so she’s just acting how she normally is. She is the female lead so everything will go her way. She’ll be smart, capable, and a lovable character from the reader's point of view from the og! Novel.

Whenever you read her since it’s in [name]'s POV and I like to portray her character negatively as of now what’s happening in the universe of how she acts we think she’s annoying but when we were in the other world, Serena was the main character of the novel 'I Stole the Villainess Loving Family'. She was the badass MC that you would love to read about but cringe so much that you would have to drop the novel.

On the third question, no, Serena is not being controlled by anybody. She is following the plot which is actually all her own actions. This is how she behaves. This is how she acts from your perspective. If you were in her POV, you would have to understand that she has been the main character everybody around her has admired her, loved her, and worshiped her simply because she was placed in a position as the female lead, which made a ton of people attracted to her.

Fourth, there will be many love interests that go from Serena to [name] or just love interests that simply got created because they have spent and developed with [name].

[name] Unfortunately for now, if there are no changes to my plot, will not fall in love with any of them and avoid them if anything because of how they treated her and how they treated the og! Princess [name] it is because she believes why should love someone only when they start changing and it annoys [name] to a point where she cannot, and will not forgive anybody who suddenly develops attention or attraction towards her because they only change when they start interacting with the new [name].

It just wouldn't make sense why she'd forgive them when she knew what Princess!Reader went through how the people changed around her when they treated Princess!Reader like a joke.

There will be a lot of crumbs of OG!princess [name] because in her world, technically modern old world there’s a version of batfam of their own where they neglected her, which is why the OG!modern!reader is called neglected!reader because in their own world batfam neglected them, and they left. They built a successful business of their own and made friends, and unlike in the historical kind of novel setting we have a modern one where she has never met any of the Batfams enemies or allies so that just opens up a whole other world of love interest for her as well, so sometimes I'll write her, but not a lot as she’s not the main focus of my "Who Said Money Can’t Buy Happiness?" plot.

That is all please do tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or something you're confused about 😍

[yanderes-galore]

Haru and legoshi (Bestars) Team-up (Romantic/Platonic)

I'll try my best, sure! Hope you enjoy :) Sorry if it's lame, I kept running out on ideas. When I do share pairs it's always a hit or miss for me :/

Yandere! Haru + Legoshi Sharing a Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Minor violence, Stalking, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Despite their sometimes rocky relationship, these two genuinely love one another.

Haru often likes to make her opinion known and can be stubborn while Legoshi tries to prevent conflict.

Honestly, their dynamic is the opposite of what you'd expect of their species.

I feel like what comes to mind for me is these two sharing an herbivore obsession.

Even better if you're also a rabbit?

However, these two could share a different herbivore or even a carnivore if you want instead of what I had in mind.

Due to how vague the request is there's many possibilities of how them sharing could go.

The two are both considered 'outcasts' due to how they act.

So imagine if you're also an outcast for one reason or another?

The two would be understanding towards you if you were also isolated.

The two seem like they'd be very sweet towards you as their newest companion.

You'd be in a little group with them, no doubt aware of their situation.

You don't mind as long as the two aren't hurting one another.

I feel the two are more likely to share an obsession platonically due to how involved they are with one another.

You're a fellow outcast of theirs who probably participates in both of their clubs since you're friends with them.

Sometimes you help Haru with the gardening club, sometimes Legoshi joins in.

Other times you help with the drama club through volunteering.

You just want to connect with the two.

Plus, due to what happens in the story yet also preventing spoilers, it's probably good they have another animal to support them.

Romance might be more rare for them but still possible.

They're already kinda judged for their relationship... making you their third would have to be a secret.

A thinly veiled secret but a secret nonetheless.

After all, the two like doing nearly everything with you.

People would notice.

In terms of their yandere types...?

Haru can be stern at times but doesn't typically harm anyone.

She's protective of you if you're an herbivore yet also helps you stand up for yourself.

I don't think she's easily jealous but it can certainly happen.

When it does she usually voices it.

Legoshi is also protective, but as a carnivore there's times he's possessive.

He's intimidating enough already so protecting you is easy.

Although, if you're an herbivore, he's careful not to harm you.

Both of them can be manipulative.

It's hard to see them both as very intense yanderes because I can't see them both as all that violent?

The most I see the dynamic is Haru defending you verbally and Legoshi defending you physically.

It's not like they're a very violent or possessive duo.

They both just want you by their side.

In terms of how the sharing starts, it seems rather simple.

They probably met you in a school club.

That or you offer to help during the Tem murder case, which would have you meet Legoshi and Haru through him?

Honestly there isn't much of a rivalry that occurs to get them to share.

It's more like when they both find out they like you... They're surprised and then start discussing.

They both couldn't believe they were both keeping an eye on you.

Haru was doing it probably because you were a fellow small herbivore or even a small carnivore.

Legoshi was doing it for a similar reason due to him always feeling protective of those smaller than him.

Since they both love one another and they're both concerned for you one way or another...

Sharing seems to make the most sense.

This leads to them both befriending you and accepting you into their little group.

The two still enjoy privacy with one another, yet even then they find themselves talking about you.

They may even ask each other to keep an eye on you, which leads to both of them... 'stalking'....

Haru's stalking seems more like a rabbit wanting to protect a friend.

While Legoshi's can seem... scary if someone catches wind of him doing it as a carnivore.

Imagine if after season 2, when Legoshi leaves school, he frequently contacts Haru to give updates on you?

After all, you and Haru still go to classes together for the most part.

While Legoshi's away, unable to see you unless away from school, Haru ends up being the one around you the most.

The two like that you don't judge them, so they don't judge you.

In fact, they make sure no one does.

Even if they choose to make you their third in their inter-species couple, they make sure no one makes you uncomfortable.

If someone did, one of them would solve the issue.

Don't underestimate Haru, she's true to herself and wants you to be too.

Safe to say you won't deal with bullies for long, or anything similar.

In fact, it would not surprise me if one of them hurt someone to defend you.

Haru never seems to feel bad about it.

Sure, some blood might stain her fur for a bit, but she'll find a way to remove it.

Legoshi wouldn't feel guilty if he hurt someone for you either.

The two probably handle different threats.

Legoshi tends to deal with carnivores, Haru tends to deal with herbivores.

Oof, Haru would not stand for her previous bullies picking on you either.

Is there much mess or blood when it comes to them? Not usually.

Even if there is, you don't typically see it.

The two wouldn't kidnap you either.

Why would they? They have a lot going on and even if they're jealous they can easily distract you.

For example, why are you hanging out with someone else?

Your two best friends/partners already have something big planned after school.

They're manipulative when sharing since they usually try to avoid violent conflict.

You won't want to leave either, right?

So what if they seem to isolate you from others?

There's a lot of weird events around Cherryton... They're just looking out for you.

These two would make their obsession feel accepted when they share.

After all, you're an outcast too, aren't you?

Why would you leave the two animals who truly accept you?

[froagles]

I have- a lot to say about Chapter Four, so-

I sound a bit salty, because I am, but I promise it’s all not that serious and it is just a game! Let’s all remember that and be respectful

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD BIG RANT BELOW ⚠️

❌ There’s about to be a lot of negative so if you don’t want to see it skip to the positives! Totally fair! It came out yesterday and I was hyped and it didn’t meet my personal hype, so I am a bit salty ngl! So totally fair to skip ❌

I can’t really talk much about Yarnaby because his death was SUPER glitched? So I was kind of just like “…okay- I mean yikes for him but-“ I can’t even tell if it was something I did that made him burn? I’m someone who hates chase sequences (not because they’re bad I just get too stressed lmao) but his felt kiiiind of underwhelming? But again one of the places I assume he was supposed to be chasing was- glitched as all hell he didn’t chase me at all, but anyways, my son that I can’t draw, I’m so sorry

Pianosaurus- honestly? I didn’t give him the time of day during promos and such, and honestly now I’m ashamed I didn’t, I’m someone that needs time to just- stare at a character’s design for more than four seconds, just to picture their potential, and staring at his design after the fact, yeah, a MUSICAL chase scene? Are you KIDDING me?? I would’ve fucked with that, SO. HARD. I think Mob was trying to go for the funny route, that or just to show how unstable/strong Doey is, but- I don’t know maybe he could’ve come in and saved us.. after an actual chase scene? My man had ten seconds of life including the cutout, Mob hates dinosaurs fr

The Doctor- I don’t know man I wasn’t too hyped about him like- fight wise? But I knew he’d come with lore and it’d be a different kind of villain so I was still hyped in a sense, and- since I can’t say much about Yarnaby’s death- then the Nightmare Critters stuff? Like it was interesting he was playing with us, but he just dies so easily, like I guess it makes sense, he’s an immovable(?) computer, but for someone everyone expected to be the main villain, and who was talking so much shit to us the whole game, he was also kind of underwhelming, disappointing really the mindless drone computers was also all glitchy so I couldn’t tell you much there

Saved this for last (critique wise) because if you follow me/like my stuff you probably know I love the Nightmare Critters, they got me into actually drawing Poppy Playtime stuff instead of just fixating on the Smiling Critters but not drawing them, helped that I had finally gave in and watched chapter three (out of order.. I finally watched chapters one and two like a week ago, fake fan I know) in September, and then they came out in October

Maybe it’s dumb, but these stupid emo critters mean a lot to me for personal reasons, a lot more than they probably should, so to say I was excited was an understatement, and- the trailer didn’t give me high hopes, but I stayed hopeful, thinking maybe that tease of a Bigger Baba would lead to something? Like- “maybe she’s actually an ally! They did say multiple allies, she’s the black sheep of the Nightmare Critters! It makes sense! They have their own jingle made too, maybe there’s a commercial!” And then to not even get cutouts of them felt kind of like a stab in the heart

They started their big promotion of the chapter with a week long introduction and- nothing, and yes you can argue the same thing happened to the Smiling Critters in chapter three though comparatively they got way more than the Nightmare Critters, which they gave us more of in chapter four, but that’s just the thing, why make the Nightmare Critters in the first place then? It’s not like it’d tarnish the Smiling Critters’ brand, they were introduced AS antagonistic plushies trying to eat us, and if the idea was that they were such a failed attempt (in universe) at trying to attain the same popularity as the Smiling Critters.. why not say? Give us a note? A line? An acknowledgment besides them visibly attacking us to their existence? Even as a villain despite the symbolism Baba could’ve been a parallel to Catnap, something, but nope, she was just the main grunt character, like actually, that’s what her and the Nightmare Critters were, Yarnaby was a pet, they were like The Doctor sent out bugs to come at us, in the cage room they were just slightly bigger bugs, like what is that about by the way? Are they not Bigger Bodies? Are they the “main” Critters? Like tell us things about them please, even their little jingle is an Easter Egg there’s NO acknowledgment of them, at all, and to top it all off, no cutouts, when characters like Daisy have cutouts despite never being a character we face, why have us see the Smiling Critters cutouts again with the same dialogue- and all the other new characters get cutouts, but not the Nightmare Critters?? Why????? I dunno, it’s not that serious but it’s incredibly disappointing for me personally, as we had months of hype for- literally nothing

Edit: I have more to say actually, why the heck was Baba even advertised as different from the rest of the Nightmare Critters? In everything we get of them she’s in the middle, or the main focus, the spotlight, for.. what? She’s the only one attacking us? Like I just don’t get it, I still believe a better plot were to have her be a parallel to Catnap, because they’re similar situations in a way, Baba’s Prototype was just Dr. Sawyer instead, just.. minus having a hinted personality, but maybe this time, we could’ve saved her when we couldn’t Catnap or something? So like it’s not too similar, but I dunno, literally anything would’ve been better than what we got

✅ But! It wasn’t all bad, this chapter did have a bit of good in it that I enjoyed, case in point- ✅

Doey, GOD I love his colours, I jokingly hated him because I fucking hate drawing circles, and this man is nothing but circles, but my actual opinions pre release I just couldn’t wait to see him animated, I love characters that don’t have to deal with anatomy, I hate anatomy, stretch away king, but I didn’t have much of an opinion otherwise, then we find out he’s made up of three people? The lore is hot, his jingle is a bop also, the fact he killed his (well one of the people’s) parents, that was illegal, stop that, and I’m glad that he didn’t just agree with Poppy’s plan, but also I wish they talked about the long term? Say they defeat The Prototype, it’s not like they can go back into society, I’m surprised no one had that existential thought, his death though- a bit convoluted but yeah, also to my understanding The Prototype set off the bombs right? But we still planned to do it, just maybe we could’ve moved the Safe Haven guys out beforehand I dunno, but that was such a sad death, he said SORRY TO US. US???? BRO WE SUUUUUCK, RIP the king of this chapter

Safe Haven, omfg that was just such a cool concept to me, I guess you could say that it’s not really original but I don’t really care about all that, kind of wish there was more of a variety of toys in it though (yeah I know there were a couple Boogie Bots and a Mini Huggy but it was still clearly Smiling Critters focused y’know? I swear I don’t hate the SC guys I’m just trying not to be biased towards them) I’m glad they had a memorial room, and it’s SO lucky of them to have a doctor I don’t know how if they were all children but that doctor is the goat, in the thumbnail of the trailer they make a point to show that Doey could put things in himself, and we also know from tapes that he can make it where others can’t, surely there’s big enough cracks to where he could go up in the surface and lowkey rob a store to get them food right? Pretty please? Give these people food T^T ALSO I’m glad they actually talked, I didn’t expect that to be honest, yay :3

I was not expecting to see BBI Hoppy but I’m so glad we did, my fav Smiling Critter hiiiiii :3, I love her voice, and it makes me wonder if she was the last Critter besides Dogday and Catnap, because maybe they would’ve mentioned the others if they were alive? I dunno, but I’m just glad to see her

Bouncing off of those two points ^, we got more Smiling Critters shit!! Not much in the grand scheme of things, but we got a whole BBI Hoppy tape, a blurry image of I thiiiiink BBI Bubba on one of the TV screens, and an entire room full of the little Smiling Critters, that counts probably, we got more that makes me happy :3

Out of order but seeing that Kissy in the train car- omfg I think that was who Riley from the notes was- RIP Queen, Jesus-

By the way I WILL be using the fact that Touille’s tail is lowkey kind of like Catnap’s that shit is so long, we sure he’s not an opossum lol?

The jingles made by Black Gryphon slaaaapped bro, make them longer puhleaseeeee 🙏

Kissy Missy, send tweet, she’s alive my angel she’s so TRAUMATIZED go AWAY PROTOTYPE

Poppy joining the realistic panic attack club- I don’t blame her for running, and I don’t think any of us should, we the player suck LMAO we deserve this, it was sad for Kissy though the queen

Also people saying fuck Ollie- why? Ollie was real, it’s The Prototype that did all that, not him, leave him alone he’s a bean

I kind of expected Huggy Wuggy was alive, these fucking wuggies are made of titanium I guess, what if the two reunite? They should give each other a hug with their long velcro paw pads, that’s what should happen Kissy and Huggy need to hug as probably the only BBI’s left (presumably, if Boxy is alive we cheer)

As disappointed in the chapter as I am, as it was my first time seeing it release live, it wasn’t all bad, maybe I could better judge some parts when they fix the glitching

I am working on some more drawings! Sorry I’ve slowed, I’m still not used to drawing so much lowkey, at least not like fully colouring and even doing backgrounds, if you couldn’t tell I only ever really do sketches lol, but yeah sorry things slowed I think I hurt my hand somehow, but sorry for the rant! I can get really ramble-y I’ve just never had a place to do so, despite my opinions I won’t be stoping posting art! So fret not, anyways, byeeeeeee!

[crazylittlejester]

A tiny fic for you, because life's been a bitch and you deserve a gift (happy to hear you're doing better though :] ) :

"What the fuck are y'all doing?" Twilight laughed, walking from his room into the living room.

"Floor time." War mumbled from his place face down on the floor, head almost completely obscured by the black fluff of the cat he'd buried his face in. Milo meowed.

Sky made a miserable noise of agreement. He was laid out starfish style on his back, half draped over his friend, with one hand thrown over his face. He had a white, fluffy blob that Twi recognised as War's other cat, Tara, curled up on his chest.

"Ah crap, do I want to know?" Twilight crouched down beside the pile of saddness and cats.

"NO." They both groaned in sync.

"Alright 'en." Twi shrugged. "Y'all need anythin'?"

"I need you to kill me." War sighed.

"Hell no, shut up. If I have to do this, so do you, mister dramatic pants." Sky snapped, though there wasn't much heat behind it.

"How about a hug instead?" Twilight suggested.

War removed his face from the fluffy void and stared at Twi with the most pathetic, wet creature eyes ever. He nodded quietly, kissing Milo once before he somehow pretzel'd himself into sitting upright without evicting Sky of his place sprawled over him. Does it make sense? Not really, but eh, it's War. He's magical. Though magic didn't stop Milo's fur from having foundation smudges on it. Or from his eyeliner smudging.

Twilight smiled as he sat himself down, shuffling to lean against the sofa before he opened his arms to welcome his roommates in. Without a second of doubt, War flopped himself over straight into Twi's arms. Though in the process, he accidentally squished Sky, who let out an indignant squawk and kicked War (gently) in the shin before wiggling out into a more comfortable embrace between his two roommates.

"War that was homophobic..." Sky grumbled.

"I'm literally gay???"

"Alright old ladies, calm down." Twilight soothed with.

War simply huffed and buried his cold nose in Twi's shoulder. Any pretend grumpiness evaporated from both him and Sky within seconds, and their tense shoulders slowly unwound as they relaxed further and further into the comforting furnace that is Twilight.

If anyone were to walk in, they'd just see a tangle of limbs and (metaphorical) soggy cats. The actual cats were there too; at some point they'd snuck in and were purring away, content as ever.

Minutes, hours- whatever, an amount of time passed where all three of the silly roommates sat on the floor snuggling, until a sleepy, incoherent murmur left Sky's lips. Twilight hummed in question.

"I'm gonna fall asleep..." Sky mumbled, his eyelids slipping shut, though he didn't bother moving.

"Then get some rest, dude. You deserve it." War gently smiled, running a hand through Sky's hair.

Any further disgruntled grumblings were lost to the power of sleepiness, and soon replaced by snores.

"...everythin' alright with him?" Twi asked hesitantly.

War hummed. "Just stressed, I think. Glad to see him relaxed now."

"Yeah," Twilight whispered in agreement, mindful of the aforementioned roommate sleeping tucked into his side.

Conversation tapered off into comfortable silence, until Twi started to complain that his ass hurt from sitting on the floor for so long. But he just scooped Sky up and the cuddle pile relocated to someone's bed, where they could snuggle more securely. Personally, War had no complaints. The stress of his life earlier had melted in the warm embrace of his friends and now he felt... safe. Secure. Content.

Sorry this isn't the best- but I hope you like it ! Remember to take care of yourself :]

---

---

I LOVE IT OH MY GOD. SCREAMING AND CRYING AND RUNNING AROUND IN CIRCLES you gifted me my blorbos 🥺??? AUGH!!

this is so fucking cute, floor time could definitely fix these guys

"Mister dramatic pants" and Twi thinking War has sad wet creature eyes is so everything to me, I hope you know

AND THE "War that was so homophobic" "I'm literally gay" KILLED ME. War is definitely the more likley of the three of them to whine and stop his feet and go "this is so homophobic" over any minor inconvenience but Sky saying this TO WAR is so fucking funny and I love it so much

also them worrying over Sky is so sweet, I love this so much thank you for this im holding it tightly in my evil little hands

[behindthesoul]

Sex With Bi-Han

Masterlist || not proofread || gender-neutral

I am so sorry for being dead for so long lmfao. I’m back and I decided to write about Bi-Han since I’ve been obsessing over him recently. These are my headcanons for sex with Bi-Han. I’ll probably make this concept a series (and also as mini guides when I write smut lol) if people are interested. Alsooooo sorry if these are too OOC, this is just always how I’ve seen Bi-Han. This is also pretty ramble-y

Bi-Han prefers to be on top. He just feels the most comfortable if he can control the pace. He also enjoys seeing how much his partner trusts him, allowing him to guide the two in pleasure. Bi-Han isn’t opposed to giving up control, or taking a more ‘50/50’ approach, but it won’t happen immediately. Some time passes before Bi-Han feels comfortable with switching up the status-quo his mind established.

He doesn’t have a favorite position. Not in the sense that he has zero preference, he’s never thought about what he likes…he’s more of a ‘doer’? Idk if that makes sense. He tends to stick to missionary because that’s what he’s used to. Bi-Han also likes being able to look into his partner’s eyes while he moves in and out of them.

Noise level? Bi-Han is quiet, almost completely silent. He’s too focused on the moment, on making his partner and himself feel that he forgets to…actually feel good. His partner will have to remind him to relax, that at this moment he is Bi-Han, not Grandmaster. Then he’ll slowly melt into his lover’s body, allowing himself to grunt and groan freely.

Subtle touches really get Bi-Han going. He’ll tense up if he feels his partner is touching him “too much.” Not because he’s uncomfortable, he’s just not used to it. Bi-Han appreciates it when his partner starts with gentle, teasing touches to build the tension. He goes crazy when his partner gently drags their nails across this body, it’ll make him groan louder than normal.

Length??? Bi-Han is probably 6 1/2 – 7 inches, decent girth. Nothing crazy, sorry 10in lovers. He’s a little veiny and a bit more sensitive down there than most. Handjobs are okay in his book, blowjobs are lovely, but he prefers to make himself useful by burying himself inside his love (or having them inside of him).

Decently thick load; Bi-Han cums for a while and always gives his partner a thick load. His eyes flutter shut and his brows press together. His breath is shaky while he catches his breath. Strands of sweat-slick hair stick to his damp face – he’s a beautiful sight.

—

“You’re doing it again,” they pull off Bi-Han with a quiet pop. Their hand gives Bi-Han’s dick a few gentle pumps before they swallow his length again, their tongue sliding across a sensitive vein. They hold his balls in their hand, slowly fondling them as their tongue continues its journey.

Bi-Han doesn’t respond immediately; he focuses on relaxing his (surprisingly) tense body, allowing for waves of pleasure to wash over him. His mind goes fuzzy when a particularly harsh suck sends him closer to the edge. His dick throbs, his hands find purchase in the bedsheets below him, his eyes press shut, and his eyebrows furrow. His partner takes him deeper in their mouth – they know he’s close.

Bi-Han ascends to the heavens with a soft groan, hoping the gods will accept him.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi!

So I saw this post and my brain immediately turned to your omega Price au, and now I'm just imagining Nik, or Ghost, it'd work for either, just being worked up about how nice the candle smells and it doesn't matter how often Price tells them he likes their scent, they're still comparing themselves. To a candle. XD https://www.tumblr.com/mylarena/774147666034688000?source=share

And just while I'm here, I wanted to say how much I love seeing your writing and your thoughts and stuff, seeing your name pop up on my dashboard is always a highlight of my day. Seriously, you're awesome!

(and sorry if parts of this don't actually make sense, I'm writing this post a very late band rehearsal and I should really be going to sleep 😅)

Oh yeah also I was so happy to hear that the ofsted stuff went well for you, and I hope you can get a little extra rest and relaxation now it's all done with!

What a joy to find in my inbox. Also, love the cheekiness of the original post. We love our fic tropes. There's one I see all the time when describing a scent - "indescribably him" - or something like that, and I chuckle, but it's true. Your loved one(s) have a smell and when you're in love with them that smell is a comfort. Just bury your face in his damn tits after a long day at work and huff it in like you're doing lines in a club toilet.

I always imagined omegaverse scents as just generic musky "sex" scent, but it has pheromones in it that trigger the hind brain of an alpha, and vice versa. The more wacky you go with the biology the better. I was muddling through an idea about how the saliva if an alpha in rut changes; helps heal a mating mark, but also maybe an aphrodisiac and to help the omega relax? Or maybe it's in their pre? Just go proper kinky with it. Love it when people get creative with omegaverse and put more thought in than "big bad alpha fucks teeny-tiny twink omega".

[ladyeyrewrites]

TBH looking at your WIP titles I'm super intrigued by Buck in a Second in part because I'm excited for it (I loved the first part so much).

Sorry this took so long for me to get to @inawickedlittletown It's been a week(TM). Here's a sneak peak of chapter one of Buck in a Second (a title it took me an embarrassingly long time to come up with). I'm hoping to have the full chapter up on Ao3 by tonight.

“Woah, slow down, Evan,” Tommy exclaims as Buck narrowly avoids colliding with Tommy and spilling his coffee all down his front. “What’s the rush?” 

“Sorry, honey.” Buck pauses long enough to give his live-in boyfriend (or is he the live-in boyfriend in this scenario because it’s technically Tommy’s house?) a peck on the cheek. “Big day.” 

“Yeah?” Tommy lifts an eyebrow. “You that excited that submissions for the Hot Days, Smouldering Nights: Men of the LAFD wall calendar to be open?” 

Buck rolls his eyes as he downs his coffee, maybe burning his throat, and scarfs some toast. “Not applying,” he says. He’ll probably help Hen get Chimney’s submission together though. 

A second eyebrow joins the first on Tommy’s forehead. “Really? Then why have you been hitting the gym so hard lately?” 

Buck laughs. “Oh, that’s all for you,” he jokes, sidling up to Tommy and dragging him into a kiss by the beltloops. A kiss that is far too slow and sloppy for Buck’s schedule. “I’m still not where I was before I came back,” he frowns to himself. Did that make sense? Even after all these months, he still not sure how to properly differentiate between the future he’s from and the past that’s currently his present. 

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

I will be honest, I was not really sure whether or not to post this ask when I received it. It sat in my inbox for a few days because I was not really sure what to do about it, because it was very much in a grey area to me. I was unsure if the ask broke the “no putting down” rule, but since the phrasing did not make a dig at anyone else, and it was about fans and not necessarily about Cleo, I ended up deciding it was within rules and queued it.

I decided back when I began this blog that I would not make judgements on the contents of the asks I receive so long as they are within blog rules. I do not want to position myself as the sole arbitrator of who does and does not deserve positivity, because that would be an arrogant position to claim. Whether or not I agree with an ask is generally irrelevant to me in posting it, because I am one person and I did not want my opinions to dictate who could or could not be on this blog. Even if I did not agree with this ask’s attitude toward Cleo’s win, I was not sure if my personal disagreement was enough to justify me not posting it. I hope that this position makes sense.

Still, I am very sorry for upsetting you with this ask being posted. That is absolutely not what I want with this blog or my intention with allowing this ask to be posted. I suppose I did not fully consider the effect of posting an ask commenting on a creator’s achievement, and this was a mistake on my part. In the future I will be more discerning about asks of this nature.

Shout out to those who don’t include Cleo in life series winners art. It’s valid if it’s a canon win for you or not.

To anyone who does not include Cleo in the Life Series winner art!!!

[ritahayworrth]

Why didn’t you like TAR? Ngl I found it overrated too

spoiler warning for tar (2022), and tbh this is very ranty and gets very rambly

okay, so firstly, i will say that everyone in the film did give good performances, i get the cate blanchett hype, i'll give it that and the cinematography was nice

but like everything else? it just felt so shallow and full of itself. like okay wow white lesbians can fully assimilate into white male dominant spaces and be just as bad as them!! like okay, most poc already know this, this is a conversation that has been dabbled into for a while. and like fine, this is a film by a white person for white people, but even taking that into account, it still just feels like a film that's just talking without really saying anything. and i have things that i didn't really like or make sense to me like why is a supposed to be an up-and-coming conductor working as a personal assistant? why is the fact that whether or not she took advantage of her former pupil so ambiguous? and i'm sure there are others that i can't think of at the moment.

and like i can forgive everything i've said so far, but really it's the last ten minutes that just... but okay wow the fact that this is a film by a white person for white people really made itself known 💀 and like sure, i am a filipino who lives in the philippines, of course, i can like spot things others won't and be super nitpicky, but the portrayal and the implications the film makes of my country just makes me want to put todd field into a guillotine! like she has a big fall from grace in the western classical musical scene, at the bottom of the barrel is conducting a video game score in the philippines. like, firstly, is the whole it being meant to be the philippines but really filmed in thailand + that whole apocalypse now line meant to be some weird meta thing?? because it doesn't work either way. anyway, does todd field know that we have twitter in the philippines? does he not think in a nation that is one of the most consistently recorded as being very much Online, no one in the classical music sphere here would have heard of lydia tar? that no one would have made a post calling her and the event organizers out? i mean obviously not, based on how he portrays filipinos as being the ones stupid or not-in-the-know enough to give lydia a job. and like seeing it as almost an honor for them to have her, a white lady there, giving her flowers and a gift basket (idk how to word this it's just very colonial mentality). okay, there's two places the event she was hired to do would be happening at, manila and cebu, and since they went to pagsanjan (where apocalypse now was filmed) that can only mean that she's meant to be in manila. and so that just gets to me even more, because i live in manila, i have been to the nerd conventions, i have aunts with connections to the theater, one of them is literally a production manager in events!! and i say this because we see lydia in what is definitely a budget hotel room, then we see her at some random alleyway getting into a sketchy building while it's pouring rain, and then she's in a meeting in a very poorly lit room, and the scene where she's working in a karinderya. and like, the event she's been hired to do, which i later found out is kind of a big thing in japan (and that just adds to what i'm gonna say), would have been organized by people with money. and keeping the whole "it's an honor to have her" thing in mind, in real life, she would have been put up in a much nicer hotel room (i'm by no means rich, and i've stayed at much nicer rooms), they would have most likely arranged for someone to drive her to the meeting and the driver would most likely have an umbrella and would have held it as she walked to the door of an average office building most likely in a nice part of metro manila, then she would have gone to work in a starbucks. but no ofc this doesn't happen in the philippines it's a third world country, they don't know shit, and are definitely not known for their hospitality..... then there is ofc the massage parlor scene 💀 just really fucking disgusting all around. while it was a long time ago, i did write a paper on sex tourism in my country like i know this is a real thing that happens, but at this point, it has been way too many strikes for me. from the set-up, like ofc the man at reception thought she meant *that* (again, she would have been put up at a nicer hotel that probably would have had an in-house spa, also why did he have her prescription?? also we don't have those orange bottles here), and to like the scene itself?? like yes, a white person being asked to pick a sex worker in a line-up, excuse me, fishbowl (wow so oriental!!) in a third world country is a very appropriate parallel for the process of auditioning orchestra members 🙃

so yeah maybe i should be allowed to kill todd field

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a “war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[teefigotem]

sorry i'm on a Murderbot Diaries kick again so y'all are getting meta. thinking about that one scene in Network Effect that everyone talks about. you know, the “who the fuck are you” “this is nonstandard communication” aka the one where Three discovers the concept of eldritch horror for the first time. beautiful scene 10/10 no notes.

that being said i’m also thinking about a take i’ve seen a few times saying that ART was way scarier to Three than it was to Murderbot and like. I don’t think that’s completely true. not to say that ART wasn’t mean or scary to Three — being told that someone might peel away your organic parts piece by piece will in fact be terrifying any way you spin in.

but like. okay. ART and Three come to an understanding very quickly in NE, arguably quicker than Murderbot and ART in AC. and some of that is due to the difference in Murderbot and Three’s personalities, but i think a lot of that is due to how ART approaches each situation.

(more under the cut)

so like okay. when ART and Murderbot first meet, Murderbot is entirely a wildcard coming aboard ART, and ART responds the way you would to an unknown, unpredictable threat, i.e. with a blatant but somewhat ambiguous show of force. by dropping its walls ART is doing the equivalent of like. brandishing a powerful weapon in your face. it doesn't explicitly tell Murderbot that it will hurt it. in fact, the only things it says to Murderbot are to tell it that it knows that it's a rogue SecUnit and to warn Murderbot not to hack it. this is the type of approach you'd take with someone who you aren't sure even has the capacity to be reasoned with - it demonstrates that it could crush Murderbot like a bug, because this is the only thing it's confident Murderbot will respond to.

the problem with this, from Murderbot's POV, is that, because the threat is implied rather than explicitly stated, there's no reassurance that if Murderbot doesn't try to hack ART then ART will leave it alone in turn. in fact, it spends the moments after this interaction spiraling about what ART wants with it and whether ART specifically let it on board to torture or kill it. i don't think that was ART's intention with the threat, i think it genuinely did not have the context to realize that Murderbot would take the show of force more as a threat of imminent violence than as a warning against attacking it. but, since it didn't have that context, it approached that interaction like one would approach someone with whom you don't see as an equal and don't have any interest in reasoning with.

contrast that to how ART interacts with Three. on the surface, what it says is scarier. its threats are certainly more violent. but they are also explicitly stated if/then statements: if you hurt these humans, then i will do xyz to you. i do know that in mathematical logic there's still no guarantee made in if/then statements that the then won't come to pass regardless, but the specificity of both the threat and the guidelines provides Three with parameters to follow, and implies that if it does then no harm will come to it.

this was notable to me because ART speaks to Three like a person to be negotiated with from the beginning, and that's. well. because it knows enough by now to know that Three is a person, in a way that i'm not sure it knew about Murderbot before seeing Murderbot's memory files of the governor module. it knows before speaking to them that both Murderbot and Three are rogue SecUnits, but its understanding of what a rogue SecUnit is, what it is capable of, and what it might do has profoundly changed between two interactions. even in their first interaction ART treats Three like a person who may be capable of being dangerous, rather than like a loose cannon who could mindlessly commit violence at any minute.

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

tbh I think Calypso views herself as Odysseus's rest and reward. like, she's the comfort in a hurt/comfort fic. she's the therapy saga. and honestly, a lot of her actions make sense when you look at it like that.

Odysseus is traumatised and scared and hurting. and she understands that. she's so understanding that she doesn't take it personally when he yells or screams or begs -- trauma makes it hard to regulate emotions, after all. he'll calm down in a little bit.

she's so understanding that she's not even hurt when he rejects her advances. he's been alone for so long that he's scared of intimacy now. but she doesn't let that discourage her. he'll get used to the idea eventually.

she's so understanding that she doesn't give up on him, even when he talks and talks and talks about his wife and son. obviously he wants to go back to them, but what he wants isn't what's good for him. that's fine, he doesn't need to know what's good for him yet. that's what she's for.

she's so understanding that she doesn't even let it upset her too much when Ody stands too close to the edge and stares out at sea below like its calling to him. it's okay. she can catch him if he falls.

sure, they're relationship isn't what she's dreamed about for centuries -- real relationships never are that perfect. her Ody has a lot of healing to do. and she'll make sure she's with him through it all.