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esote-rika · 2 days ago

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to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time.

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that.

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly.

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss.

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.”

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish.

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.”

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest. “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?”

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?”

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?”

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet.

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you?

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you.

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight.

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.”

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.”

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

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thridless · 2 days ago

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Okay so. In the ancient year of 2007, me and some buddies got drunk and went to a movie theater. In our drunken foolishness, we saw that one of the movies was called Dragon Wars and thought that it would at least be an entertaining action flick.

Guys. GUYS. This movie was THE WORST piece of media I have ever consumed. And not in a way that was fun or interesting, just in a way that made it bad even to MST3K it. (We were the only ones there so we gave it a good try but it wasn't happening.)

I don't remember everything about this movie, since I watched it exactly once almost 20 years ago, but there are three things I very distinctly remember. The first is that the introduction scene featured the legendary QUADRUPLE FLASHBACK, a flashback within a flashback within a flashback.... within a flashback. There is no indication that this is happening, and it's about as easy to follow as a three-card-monte on a tiltawhirl.

The second of this movies atrocities was the actions of the main character. His entire importance to the plot was to hold a ring. And yes Frodo did the same thing and we love Frodo BUT THIS MAN WAS NO FRODO. He had the personality of a wet paper bag and half the fighting ability, which is actually important because the other thing he did to move the plot was FUCKING DIE. Again, the single thing that he did that moved the plot forward the most? Was die. And of COURSE they brought his ass back. Of COURSE.

But the third and most unforgivable crime of Dragon Wars (2007) was that the dragons sucked. There were two proper Asian-style dragons, and they did fight for a few minutes, which is less of a war and more of a slap fight. The other dragons were dinosaurs. Some of them had weapons strapped to them. BUT THRID, I hear you wail in Dinosaur-loving anguish, THAT SOUNDS SO AWESOME. And yes, it does sound awesome and fun to watch and impossible to fuck up.

AND YET. The talented folks behind this movie pulled it off.

In one scene that sticks to my mind like used bubblegum to the underside of a bleacher seat, a slow and lumbering quadrupedal lizard with a cannon on its back waddles down a road. It finds its way blocked by destroyed cars. And so it slowly. SLOWLY. Starts to turn around. This thing looks to be about as mobile as a basset hound that doesn't want to go on a walk, and half as motivated. It was not exciting. It was not even funny. It was just sad.

That fucking movie sobered us up within 20 minutes of starting and it had a 90 minute run time. Looking it up now, it has a 30% on rotten tomatoes, and it deserves so, so much lower.

And THAT is the worst, most confusing, most meandering, most rage-inspiringly boring movie I have ever seen.

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

#very long story short Dragon Wars (2007) is thebworst movie ive ever seen and its not even close.

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bunji-enthusiast · 16 hours ago

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I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

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lunajay33 · 3 days ago

Text

Suppose to be You Part.3

•🖤🍑🏹🧟‍♀️•

Summary: You’re Shane’s girlfriend but when the apocalypse hits you find him changing and find yourself leaning more towards the only person who gives you the time of day, also you’re Rick’s younger sister

Pairing: Shane x f!reader, Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Shane’s a cheater obvi, harsh words, Merle

Part.2

•Masterlist•

It was mayhem, everyone freaking out, some crying as they grieved the ones taken down by walkers, others hugging the ones like Lori hugging the family they still had, Shane and Rick doting on her while Daryl wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me over to our tent, the fire mere embers now

We sat down as I rested my head against his chest, holding the hand that was draped over my shoulder, my breath shuddering

“I’m so glad you came back”

“I told ya I would, almost lost ya…..” he said as he gently squeezed my hand

“God must be out for me, first he tears Rick away from me, then Lori and Shane have an affair behind my back, and now this and after what Ed did to me” I sigh not seeming to catch a break

“God couldn’t do something like that ta ya, all this happenin ain’ yet fault peach, and it’s lucky the walkers got to Ed before I did for what he did to ya” he groans, scoffing like he does

“I don’t feel safe here anymore D, it’s like the men are after me one by one” he lifted me up from his chest so I was sat looking at him, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek

“I can take ya away, keep ya safe from pain” my heart leapt in my chest never has Shane treated me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world, hell Rick doesn’t even know what’s been going on yet

“You’d do that for me?”

“I ain’t got much left here, Merle’s gone and the group has it out for me cause of merle, only stayin fer ya” I’d go with him, I want to but I just got Rick back

“Let me talk to my brother, maybe he has a plan plus I’ve barely been able to talk to him since he’s came back” he nods before leading me into his tent making an extra spot for me

“You sure you don’t want me to go to my tent” I ask as I lay next to him

“I’m not letting ya out of my sight again, get some sleep” he shut off the camping light and we both fell asleep instantly

•

The morning came quickly and everyone got to work, making piles of the walkers and the people we lost, I took a plate of food and brought it over to Daryl where we was axing the walkers just in case

“Here take a break and eat” he turns squinting from the beaming sun above, the sweat glistening on his skin

“Nah ya eat it”

“No Daryl I already ate, you need it you’re working so hard” he had a glimpse of a smile for a second before it was gone taking the plate, soon hearing those scruffy footsteps coming up behind me

“Hey hun can I talk to you, barely got to see you” rick asks smiling like a big brother, he always made me feel happy

“Yeah of course, I missed you” I smile as he leads me off to a lone sitting area

“How’ve you been? Things seem…different” his tone laced with concern

I look down at my lap feeling ashamed over everything that’s happened and how do I even tell him this? He just got everything back

“He said you died Rick, when I found out I couldn’t function for days it felt like I had died with you then the walkers took over, Shane got us out of the city and we got here but things changed, I think he just didn’t want me anymore, I don’t know if it’s because I’m not his type anymore or he just fell for someone else but….he isn’t who he use to be”

I look up across the camp seeing Daryl checking on us, I smile waving as he nods his head before going back to work

“And what about him, Lori and Shane say him and his brother are bad news”

“You went to the city with him what did you think Rick”

“Bit of a hot head but he has deep concern for the ones he loves” he smiles patting my back

“Rick he doesn’t love me, he’s just been helping be with everything, he’s nice to me” I can feel the heat spread across my face

“If Shane isn’t treating you how you should then so be it, be with the man who deserves you as much as you deserve him” Rick was always easy with his words, I never understood why he was friends with Shane

“Thanks Rick, I’m glad you’re back, I love you big brother”

“Love you too sunshine” I feel a weight lift off me as a I stride back over to Daryl where he’s taking a break sitting on the back of his truck tailgate

“So……ya had yer talk, ya still wanna stay or do ya want me to take ya away?” He asks placing his hand over mine on the tailgate so no one else could see

“I don’t know….can you give me a few days? I just need to get my head straight”

“No rush, I’ll go where ya want, just tell me and I’ll take ya away” I see the faintest blush rise to his cheeks

“Thank you Daryl, for everything”

“Always”

•

We came up with a plan after much arguing we loaded up our vechiles and headed for the CDC, Rick and Lori had a full car plus I didn’t want Daryl to drive alone in case anything were to happen

I got in his truck after we loaded up his motorcycle in the box of the truck, sitting in my seat as Daryl gets in soon after, the silence heavy, everything changed so much in the past few days but I guess that’s just how life is now

“Ya okay peach?” Daryl asks brushing my messy hair back

“Yeah…..yeah just….worried is all I don’t want this place to be like this, too much has happened here I don’t want more problems”

“Ain’t gonna have no problems if I’m around” he starts the engine and we’re of in the parade of vechiles, a old cd playing from the radio watching as the trees flash by

After a few hours of driving we finally make it to the cdc, the sun setting we gather our gear and run straight to the door, Daryl taking my hand and wrapping it around his belt loop on the back of his pants telling me not to let go as the walkers neared

So much happing it was overwhelming, everyone screaming and crying, arguing, the walkers groaning and the sound in my own heart beat, I felt the world start to blur when the doors finally open

Everyone runs in and I drag my feet as Daryl drags me, the fluorescent lights shinning above as the door behind us slams shut

“Daryl I don’t feel so good” I sigh feeling like I was high not feeling my body as my legs give out but not before Daryl catches me

•

Daryl’s pov

She felt heavy in my arms as she almost hit the floor completely unconscious, my heart beating frantic, was she bite in the attack and she didn’t tell me?

“I need a bed now” I bark at the doctor and he leads us to the living corridor, I laid her on a bed, Rick and Shane coming in as well but I bite my tongue for her

“The hell did you do to her” Shane groans as he pushes me away from her

“Ya better watch yerself, she ain’t yers”

“Yeah like she’d pick a Georgia redneck over me”

“I ain’t gotta defend myself against a man who scared the livin shit outta the woman he was suppose to protect” he tried coming at me before Rick takes Shane’s shoulder and stops him

“That’s enough Shane, just give us some time” he huffs before he stomps out leaving the room silent, as I start checking her over, her clothes untorn but she could have changed

“Ya alright if I check her skin?”

“Go ahead, can’t be to sure” I slowly check her, anxious ever time I lift a different part of her clothing, just waiting for a bite to appear but luckily she’s clear

“No bite”

“Then what’s wrong with her?”

“She could be exhausted, she’s……had it rough lately, might’ve been too much today”

“You’re watching out for her?”

“Mhm” I hum as I sit on the bed next to where she’s laid

“You seem to only like her, don’t act like this with no one else”

“And it’ll stay that way” he nods giving me an appreciative glance before leaving us alone

•

Normal pov

I wake with a pounding head ache, my heart pounding harder again, I sit up anxiously looking around and all I see is a strange room I’ve never seen before

“DARYL!” I yell out and soon I hear footsteps coming towards the room relieved he was coming but when the door opens and in walks my living nightmare I freeze as he closes the door behind him

“What’re you doing here, leave Shane” my voice waivers but he doesn’t stop he comes right for me, pinning me down on the bed his grip bruising my wrists

“Shane please don’t do this” I cry frantic trying to just get away

“You ruined everything” he growls, his eyes burning with hate…anger

“I didn’t do anything, you were the one who cheated on me, who made me feel like I was scum, you’re just jealous that Daryl is more of a man than you” at that he smacks my face hard as the door slams open as I let out a whimper from the sting

“Ya son of a bitch” Daryl yells as he comes running over ripping Shane off of me and slamming him against the wall

“I told ya never ta lay a hand on her again, she ain’t yers, she don’t want ya, I’ll kill ya”

“Hey hey hey what’s going on here” Rick says as he comes in breaking them up

“Why don’t ya ask yer best friend here” Daryl says as he comes and gentle checks on my cheek

“I didn’t do nothing” Shane laughs in denial

“You hurt me Shane” I sigh holding my now throbbing face

“You touched her?” Rick groans sending death glared at Shane

Shane pushed past Rick and left the room

“Do ya still wanna stay here with them?” Daryl asks brushing my hair back, maybe we should have left

“Woah what do you mean? You can’t leave I just got you back” Rick intervens

“I know but…..I’m not safe around him Rick, he’s not the guy you knew, it might be better for just me and Daryl to go”

•

It’s been a day since the incident and I’ve had my heart in my throat the whole time, never leaving Daryl’s side, suddenly a blaring alarm comes on

Jenner telling us the reason, we’ve come this far just to explode, after some explode in anger others settle down as the timer ticks down

“Come on I’m getting us outta here Angel” Daryl says trying to get me up off the floor

“I don’t know Daryl, maybe it’s for the best” he leans down taking my hand

“Ya ain’t givin up, I’ll get us out and ya ain’t gotta be scared anymore, just gotta try one more time” I’ve never seen him so desperate

“Okay one more time D”

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kiyzukiy · 3 days ago

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Inevitable fate

Sypnosis: A story as old as time. A girl loving a boy and the boy loving another girl. Nothing to add or show but how you hoped this would be different.

Tags: any lads man x reader, any lads man x MC, reader is not mc, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta read

Author's note: Heya~ I'm fairly new to this and this is also my first post I've done this way. If I'm missing any tags please tell me. Otherwise I hope you enjoy <3

Have you waited to long?

Some would say yes, could they witness your…rather disgraceful moment right now. There you stood. Out in the dark. Flowers in one hand. In the other his favorite snack and a handwritten note with all your feelings on it. You had hoped to surprise him. His surprise was bigger.

It was almost comically, really. A scene out of a movie. Life imitating art.

Unfortunate for you, this was no such moment. No one would spring out of the corner of the building and scream “prank!” and shove a camera in your face to record it for eternity. Upload it to some social media and get clicks for it or let it become a happy, albeit with embarrassment toned memory.

You had the strong feeling, the longer you stood there, this was no such scene but reality.

In silence you stood and watched them. A bit creepy, you would think to yourself if your brain would work right now on the right wavelengths.

It was like sick pleasure.

Like watching a car wreck.

Like a nature phenomenon that could kill you, and yet your eyes couldn't move away.

The sweet scratch on a point you couldn't quite reach. So why did it slowly start to hurt? Did it start to bleed? Should you have left it alone?

Your body was rigid. So even if you wanted to, you couldn't move away. Leave. Like any other person would do. No. You were very focused on the moment that was going on right in front of you. Every sense that you had laser pointed, marked and sharp to the two people in front of you.

Your friends warned you, didn't they? If you could remember, you would chastise yourself right now. Numerous excuses running around in your head that you gave them. He wasn't like that. It's more than that. He shows genuine interest. He is so sweet. He gave me flowers last week. There has to be something.

What did your friends say? You couldn't remember. Your mind a jumbling mess. Numbing every thought. Thoughts jumping from one point to the other. Was it a lie?

But then again what was the lie? You, or him?

Look away.

Now he was grasping her waist. Laughter rang in your ears. Was that her? Was that her laughing? With him? And oh how he laughed. Like spring bloom. Like butterflies kissing your cheeks. How the morning sun gently wakes you up with the promise of a new day. Like life.

He never laughed that way with you. You wonder why. Was she different? More straightforward? More funny? More assertive? More…her? Who was she anyway? You didn't recognize her. No pictures of her in his home, nor on his phone. No story told with this appearance depicted. You could only guess and that guess didn't fill your cold veins with joy. A feeling of doom pooling in your stomach.

They both seem to know eachother. Awfully comfortable with another too. Laughing, giggling and holding hands together.

Look away.

They were moving and simultaneously, you as well. Were you tailing them now? Oh you sick fuck, okay or was this just another thing of watching a car wreck burn. To prolong the moment? Fascinated and in awe that something like that truly happened. Normally you see this only on TV, on the news or just on social media. As if this would be daily life.

They haven't notice you yet so what’s the harm? Maybe this was the way you wanted to go first. You weren't failing them if you just so happen to walk the same way. It's not like they would notice you anyway. It's not like he would notice. To engrossed in the woman beside him that he was still talking with about who knows what.

Jealousy reared it's ugly head in your heart. He was not like this with you. Not smiling like that, not keeping the conversation going like that. Genuine interest. No. You mistook it as such. Now you saw what his interest looks like. Engagement, excitement and wanting to listen.

A funny thought entered your head, if and when they spot you, you can just go over and do idle chit-chat like “oh hey. I'm just his friend that he was supposed to meet and yes, yes his dick is impressive. I know first hand. What is your experience with that?”

Yeah. Right. That's what you are going to do. Let’s be real here, you could talk yourself into it but never following through with it because how could you?

This is what your friends warned you about.

Look away.

What were you doing? Exactly? What was your plan? Idly following them to gather more evidence? For what? It's not like you need the evidence for anything as you were nothing to him anyway.

You had no valid reason to be angry right now. No one said it should be exclusive. Why should you? You were. Just. Friends. Right? Your own words, when you saw his hesitation at your question what you both were. Friends with benefits if someone wants to be specific.

So why should you take pictures of this moment? You couldn't shove it in his face and demand answers. You couldn't be angry the way you wanted to be. Oh, how you wanted to be angry right now. Raging and screaming. Throwing things at him and watch how he struggled to get a good excuse in.

But you were only a friend or maybe something else entirely.

Maybe a cheap fuck. Maybe a good distraction. Maybe a stepping stone. Maybe the one to test things out on. Maybe…nothing more than to get the one who got away.

Was that her? The one he always told you has long since slipped away? The one who assumably forgot about him and moved on? Is that her? With her long, ebony brown hair and expressive eyes? With her fit physique. Perfect nails, even better outfit. Though you wouldn't be surprised if you could dress her up the way you wanted to and she still would look stunning. With that step in her walk like she was excited to meet someone she hasn't seen in a while. Wild hands as she told a story and he listened. Oh? He listened. One more thing you could tick off of your list that he wouldn't do with you. Not in this way. No, not…in this way.

You couldn't deny it. She was beautiful. The longer you looked, watched, observed this was a fact. Well, in your mind you always could give her a nasty personality. Judge her only on her appearance. Could tell yourself that she got around in life because of her looks and not what she accomplished on her own.

Even though that wouldn't help much. Even though that wouldn't be you. That's not you. You are not like that, but right now you wanted to crash out and not be yourself. Be mean, be vengeful, be hateful. And yet? A sad little smile on your face, you admitted to yourself that she was beautiful. Inside and out. You had a feeling that she was and she looked stunning right next to him. Fitting. Not…like you.

Just one moment. Let yourself be. Even though it wouldn't help. Only you and your bruised ego over the fact that you went and gave your heart to the wrong man. Again.

Look away.

Almost, right? Just almost. You haven't done it yet. Not completely. That was soothing, wasn't it? You haven't confessed yet. You wanted to. That was the whole plan of your meet up with him today. The whole sense behind you, now following them, getting flowers and his snack because women could woo men too. That was the plan. What a grand plan that was!

You…had a plan. A cute picknick underneath the night sky. Watching the stars and professing your love and you both would enter a happy, healthy relationship. The end.

Reality was but a cruel joke or your saving grace. Lucky you didn't do it. At least that's what you will tell yourself when you get home. In the mirror. Alone. Memories of you and him running on loop behind your eyes and you will ask yourself what you lack. But that was a problem for future you, wasn't it?

Look away!

Pitter patter. You hear it before you feel it. You scoffed. Right, of course. Now this was rather ridiculous and might you add ironic of life. Why yes of course it would really rain right now. As if this wasn't movie worthy to begin with. Now you would be soaked when you get home as well.

Well, at least you didn't confessed right? This can be another failed dating attempt you can gossip with your friends about. A small hihi haha story while they ramble on about who they dated last and what happend with that encounter.

It would be funny. If you wouldn't hurt so much right now. Because this could have been perfect. This could have been your moment. He was the man. Kind, attentive, supportive and understanding. Alright, so what? Maybe you started as friends with benefits but you were friends and the sex was even better. Silly banter and an comfortable vibe between you. What else does a relationship need?

This could have been it.

Please, look away sweetie.

Now he was touching her cheek. She was turning to him. Beneath a lamp post in the park. No body around. You still far away in the dark. Shivering, flowers soaked and still clutching that stupid snack in your hand. Knuckles turning white. Teeth grinding and jaw clenching. Against your better judgement you were angry. And sad. And disappointed. And so god damn hurt. Jesus, why did it hurt so much? You were nothing. Only the memories weren't nothing. They were real. Real interactions that made you fall in love. That made you giggle and laugh and reminiscence about what could be. What could have been.

You wish you could hold your heart right now. Clench the shirt above your heart. Symbolic to the pain. The heavy weight on your chest that didn't let you breathe freely.

Would it happen now? That what the singers and poets always proclaim about? The deepest pain, the most lingering scar? Is this the moment where you will hear your heart shatter in the rain?

They don't seem to be bothered by it. While everyone was flittering and running about to get underneath shelter, these two seem disgustingly happy that it was, in fact, raining. Oh to be sickingly in love so that you would gladly take the cold that would follow after such events. Being stone cold out, but the moment was beautiful. For them. At least. A story they could tell. Oh so romantic. Oh so loving, oh so beautiful. Re-enacted out of a book.

You would just be down with a cold and calling in sick because you just. Couldn't. Look. Away.

Please, why? Look away, starlight. Come on.

Ah, there it was. The moment. A movie. The scene. The setting. The light. Romance. Young, undisturbed love. A kiss.

And you. Sticking out like a sore thumb. A watcher. A silent bystander to their rom-com. A witness to their happy end and ever after.

They don't notice you. But you notice. You notice your heart plumpeting to the depths of the earth, only to burn in front of the events before you. You feel it break. Pain surges through your veins. To how many pieces can a beating heart shatter? Do you dare to count? Would it be the amount of the shared memories? Would it be the many times you wished to be more? How long would it take to put it back together? Would you ever get closure or would you continue on with the things in mind that you saw today? Could you pretend nothing happened and be quiet by his side? Don't you love yourself more than that?

Princess, look away.

What were you to him for him to be able to do this with no second thought? Does he feel any guilt right now, any thoughts about you? Does he see you behind his eyes when they close in this intimate moment?

It didn't seem this way. It more so felt like a punch to the gut to witness just how little you meant to him. Apparently. Evidently. Written and signed by him truly.

Cutie…look away.

And you do. With a shaking breath, you look away. One slugging step at the time, you turn away. Tears falling down your face as you look up to the sky and wonder:

Have you waited too long?

#love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #caleb x mc #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #lads angst

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gyorouis · 3 days ago

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── ✦ the boy next door.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis⸝⸝ the guy next door, he seems cute. and oh, he has a dog.

꒰ genre⸝⸝ fluff!! FLUFF, angst if you squint, but anyway lovey-dovey bcs soobin is so boyfriend and i miss soobin sm pairing⸝⸝ boy next door!soobin x afab!reader wc⸝⸝ 5.3k warning⸝⸝ none (lmk if i forgot any!) tune in⸝⸝ sixspence none the richer — kiss me ୨ৎ ꒱

you’ve been living in this apartment complex for what feels like forever now, or at least long enough to memorize the creaky spots in the hallway and which neighbors prefer late-night TV at full volume. it’s not that you're shy, but you’ve never been great at the whole “friendly neighbor” thing either. while others seem to naturally strike up conversations about the weather or the latest neighborhood gossip, you’re more of a smile-and-nod kind of person. friendly enough, but not exactly handing out invitations for coffee.

every morning, you take your usual jog around the complex. it’s become a routine, something to clear your mind before another long day of work. you pass by mrs. kim from the third floor, who always seems to be engaged in an animated conversation with mr. park from the second floor. they wave at you, and you offer a polite nod in return, as always. everyone here seems to know each other, chatting away as if they’ve lived in this building their entire lives.

you? not so much. you’ve always found socializing a bit… draining. especially since your job involves talking to people all day long. by the time you get home, the last thing you want is to have yet another conversation.

it’s a sunday morning, and instead of your usual jog, you’re busy cleaning your apartment. your balcony door is open, letting in the fresh air as you sweep the floor. as you pause to stretch, you notice a moving truck pulling up outside. new tenants, you think to yourself. the unit next to yours has been empty for about a month, ever since the previous owner moved out. you glance down at the truck, spotting a few movers carrying boxes and furniture into the building.

“well, good luck,” you mumble to yourself, knowing how thin the walls can be.

you continue with your cleaning, pushing the thought of the new tenant aside. after all, it’s not like you’re going to be inviting them over for tea anytime soon.

in the days following, you caught glimpses of the new tenant, though never quite enough to get a clear picture of them. once, while heading out for your morning jog, you heard the door to the next unit creak open just as you were locking your own. instinctively, you turned your head, but by the time you glanced down the hallway, the door had already closed. you could hear faint footsteps receding, but whoever they were, they were gone before you even had the chance to see them.

it became a pattern—just when you thought you might catch a glimpse of this mystery neighbor, something would intervene. you’d hear a door slam shut just as you were about to turn the corner. you’d see shadows under the door when you were in the hallway, but no one ever stepped out. it was like the universe was conspiring to keep you from meeting them.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, you weren’t the type to strike up a conversation with strangers anyway. still, you couldn’t help the growing curiosity. who was this person? what kind of neighbor were they? and, more importantly, why did it feel like they were always just out of reach?

one particularly frustrating moment happened when you were in the mailroom, sorting through the usual stack of bills and junk mail. out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approach the door, a tall figure with dark hair. for a split second, you thought this might finally be the moment you’d meet your elusive neighbor. but just as the door began to swing open, your phone rang loudly in your pocket, startling you enough that you dropped your mail all over the floor.

by the time you scrambled to pick it up, the person was gone. the door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the mailroom once again.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, shoving the crumpled letters back into your bag. it was becoming a running joke in your head now—the universe seemed determined to keep the two of you apart.

later that week, you were returning from work, exhausted after a particularly draining day of meetings and presentations. your only goal was to collapse onto your couch and binge-watch something mindless. as you stepped off the elevator, you saw a large package leaning against the door to the unit next to yours. it was addressed to a “choi soobin,” which you assumed was your new neighbor. your curiosity spiked again. soobin—the name didn’t ring any bells, but it didn’t matter. you’d probably never get the chance to talk to them anyway.

as you fumbled with your keys at your own door, you heard something—a faint shuffling from inside the next unit. you paused, glancing sideways at the door. was this finally your moment? you listened closely, heart pounding a little for reasons you couldn’t explain. but, like every other time before, nothing happened. no door opened, no introductions were made.

you sighed and went inside, trying to shake off the strange sense of disappointment.

then, that evening, something broke the quiet routine.

you were sprawled on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels without much interest when a sound made you sit up. it was faint at first—a soft barking, coming from the apartment next door. your eyes darted toward the wall, as if you could somehow see through it. a dog? you hadn’t heard a single sound from that unit since the mysterious soobin had moved in. now, all of a sudden, there was a dog?

“must be the new neighbor,” you muttered to yourself, sinking back into the cushions.

the barking stopped, and you assumed that was the end of it. but then, barely a minute later, there was a knock at your door. you blinked, glancing at the clock. it was late—who could be knocking at this hour?

you dragged yourself off the couch, padding over to the door and pulling it open. standing there, looking slightly frazzled, was a guy. he had dark hair, a hoodie pulled over his head, and in one hand, he held a leash attached to an overly excited golden retriever that was wagging its tail so fast it was practically vibrating.

“uh, hi,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “sorry to bother you, but i’m your new neighbor. i think my dog’s ball ended up on your balcony. mind if i grab it?”

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sight of him. soobin, you realized, putting the pieces together. this was the elusive neighbor who had been slipping in and out of your life for the past week. and now, here he was, standing at your door with an overexcited dog.

“oh,” you said, snapping out of your daze. “yeah, sure. give me a second.”

you stepped out onto your balcony and quickly spotted the bright yellow ball wedged against the railing. as you bent down to pick it up, you heard soobin talking to his dog in a low voice.

“buddy, sit. come on, man, be cool for like five seconds.”

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as you walked back inside, holding the ball out to him. “here you go.”

soobin beamed, taking the ball from you. “thanks. i’m soobin, by the way. and this troublemaker is buddy.”

buddy barked in response, his tail wagging even faster—if that was possible.

“i’m y/n,” you replied, offering a small smile. “welcome to the building.”

soobin shifted awkwardly, as if unsure whether to continue the conversation or let you return to your evening. “uh, thanks. sorry again for the interruption. we’re still getting used to the place, and buddy here is still adjusting.”

“no problem,” you said, your voice soft. despite the late hour and the unexpected visit, you found yourself oddly relaxed in his presence. there was something about his easy-going nature, the way he seemed just as out of place as you often felt.

“well, i should let you get back to your night,” he said, giving buddy’s leash a gentle tug. “thanks again for the ball.”

“anytime,” you replied, watching as he headed back down the hallway, buddy bouncing along beside him.

as you closed the door, a small smile crept onto your face. you hadn’t understood the strange anticipation you’d felt before meeting your new neighbor, but after this little incident, you were starting to get an idea why.

as you leaned back against the door, you found yourself replaying the brief interaction in your head. soobin seemed... different. maybe it was the casual way he introduced himself or the way he was clearly flustered by his dog’s antics, but something about him had left an impression on you. you tried to brush it off—after all, it was just a simple neighborly encounter. nothing more.

you sank back onto the couch, but the quiet of your apartment felt louder now, like the presence of the new neighbor had shifted something in the air. you absentmindedly reached for the remote but hesitated before pressing play. instead, your mind wandered back to soobin’s awkward grin, the way buddy’s tail wagged enthusiastically, and the light laughter that almost escaped your lips as soobin tried to calm the excitable dog.

“why am i thinking about this?” you muttered, shaking your head with a smirk.

over the next few days, it seemed like fate kept you and soobin on the verge of crossing paths, only for something to always get in the way. every time you left for your morning jog, you'd hear his apartment door creak open as if he was leaving too. but by the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, there’d be no sign of him or buddy. you’d glance back, wondering if maybe you'd imagined hearing it. or when you returned home in the evening, you'd see buddy’s leash hanging on the door handle, a clear sign they were out for a walk, yet you'd just missed them.

it was like the universe was toying with the idea of introducing you both properly, but not quite ready to make it happen. part of you found it amusing—the almost-encounters, the little signs of his presence—but another part of you grew more curious with each near-miss.

one evening, as you sat on your balcony with a cup of tea, a cool breeze ruffling the pages of the book you weren’t really reading, you heard it again—the faint sound of a dog barking next door. instinctively, you leaned over the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. and there he was, standing on his own balcony with buddy at his feet, looking up at the sky like he was deep in thought.

for a moment, you considered saying something, maybe making a casual comment about the weather or how quiet the building usually was. but just as you opened your mouth, buddy let out an excited bark, causing soobin to laugh and look down at his dog.

“not now, buddy, i'm trying to enjoy the sunset,” he chuckled, giving the golden retriever a playful pat on the head.

you quickly leaned back before he could notice you watching, heart racing a little too fast for your liking. why did it feel like you were in high school again, trying to avoid being caught staring at the cute guy in class?

the next day, you were in the hallway, heading out for work, when you heard hurried footsteps behind you. you turned just in time to see soobin, earbuds in, walking briskly with buddy trotting beside him. for a second, you both locked eyes, and soobin gave you a quick wave, almost stumbling over buddy’s leash in the process.

“oh—uh, hey!” he called out, a little breathless as he caught up to you. “sorry, i didn’t see you there.”

you smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “no worries. looks like you two are in a hurry.”

he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, we’re running late for our morning walk. buddy takes it very seriously.” buddy barked as if agreeing, his tail wagging eagerly.

“i’ve noticed,” you replied with a small laugh. “he seems like quite the handful.”

“you have no idea,” soobin said, shaking his head with a grin. “it’s like living with a toddler.”

there was a brief pause, just long enough for the moment to stretch into something a little more comfortable, a little more familiar. you weren’t sure what it was, but the awkwardness from your first meeting had melted away, replaced by something easier, like you’d known each other longer than a few days.

“well, i’ll let you get to work before i make us both late,” soobin said, glancing at his watch before giving you a quick nod. “but, uh, maybe we’ll bump into each other more often.”

“maybe,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words. “have a good walk.”

as you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his casual words lingering in your mind. sure, it had been brief, but something told you that this wasn’t the last time you’d be talking to soobin.

the next few weeks passed with more casual interactions, little moments that didn’t feel like much on the surface but somehow started to carve a space for soobin in your routine. the mysterious air surrounding him had slowly faded away, revealing a guy who was surprisingly easy to talk to—at least, when your paths finally crossed.

like that time in the elevator, when you both happened to be leaving the building at the same time. you’d awkwardly shuffled inside, glancing at the buttons only to realize you were both heading to the ground floor. soobin had offered a lopsided smile as buddy sat obediently at his side, his tail thumping against the floor of the small space.

“morning,” he greeted, rubbing his eyes sleepily, the hoodie he wore wrinkled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“morning,” you replied, chuckling lightly at his tired expression. “late night?”

“buddy doesn’t understand the concept of sleep,” he said, laughing softly. “he decided at 2 a.m. that the middle of the night was the perfect time to chase his tail.”

you smiled, leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. “sounds exhausting.”

“you have no idea,” he groaned, glancing down at buddy. “but i wouldn’t trade him for anything. what about you? late night or early start?”

“early start,” you replied. “work keeps me on a pretty tight schedule.”

“right, you mentioned that you’re always busy,” soobin said thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely interested. “what do you do again?”

you hesitated for a second, not because you didn’t want to tell him, but because explaining your job always felt like you were opening a door to questions you weren’t sure you had the energy to answer. “i work in marketing. lots of meetings, lots of socializing.”

“sounds... exhausting,” he echoed your earlier comment, giving you a knowing grin. “no wonder you don’t join the neighborhood chat.”

you let out a soft laugh. “yeah, i’m not great at small talk.”

“same,” he said with a shrug. “i mean, i like people, but there’s something about forced conversation that makes my brain just... shut down.”

the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped out, walking side by side toward the entrance. buddy trotted ahead, sniffing everything in his path.

“i get that,” you said. “there’s always this pressure to say the right thing, to fill every silence.”

“exactly!” soobin said, his eyes lighting up. “but sometimes, silence is comfortable, you know? like right now, we’re not talking every second, but it doesn’t feel awkward.”

you blinked at his words, realizing he was right. the quiet that settled between you wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable—it was easy, like you didn’t have to force anything. it felt... natural.

“yeah,” you agreed, glancing over at him. “it’s nice.”

he smiled, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in the air, something you couldn’t quite place but also couldn’t ignore. but before you could dwell on it, buddy barked, pulling soobin’s attention back to his overexcited dog.

“looks like someone’s ready for his walk,” soobin said with a chuckle. “i’ll see you around?”

“definitely,” you said, waving as you headed in opposite directions.

and so it continued—a series of brief moments. sometimes it was in the hallway, when you both reached for your mailboxes at the same time. other times, it was in the parking lot, when buddy would tug soobin’s arm just as you were pulling out of your spot, prompting an exaggerated apology from soobin and a wave from you, which had gradually turned into shared grins over time.

but despite the ease of these small interactions, there was still a slow, steady burn building between the two of you. neither of you rushed it—there was no sudden moment of revelation, no dramatic confession. instead, it was the little things that started to draw you closer.

like the day you came home late from work, exhausted and hungry, only to find that your fridge was depressingly empty. you were about to resign yourself to a bowl of instant ramen when a knock came at your door. when you opened it, there was soobin, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a sheepish grin on his face.

“i ordered way too much food,” he said, looking down at the containers like they’d betrayed him. “and buddy is refusing to eat anything that doesn’t come from his dog bowl, so... thought i’d see if you wanted some?”

you blinked, staring at the food and then back at him. “you’re offering me leftovers?”

he scratched the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “well, when you put it like that...”

you laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “i’m kidding. i was actually about to have instant ramen, so this is a serious upgrade.”

“wow, really? i guess my timing is perfect,” he said, setting the food on your kitchen counter. buddy bounded in after him, sniffing around curiously before settling by soobin’s feet.

the two of you sat down to eat, and conversation flowed naturally. soobin told you about his work—he was a freelance artist, which explained his flexible hours and the occasional paint smudges on his hands. you talked about your own job, surprised at how easy it was to open up to him. the hours slipped by, the conversation shifting from work to hobbies to random stories about your lives.

“you know,” soobin said at one point, pushing his empty plate aside, “i’m glad we finally hung out like this. i always see you around, but i didn’t want to be that weird neighbor who tries too hard.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i think you’re safe. besides, if anyone’s weird, it’s me. i’ve been here for ages and haven’t made a single friend.”

he raised an eyebrow. “well, you’ve got one now.”

you looked at him, and there was something in the warmth of his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “yeah,” you said softly. “i guess i do.”

over time, the encounters became more intentional. you’d text each other when you were free, ever since he asked for your number during one night that was actually a terrible way of asking someone for their digits. he’d tripped over his own feet while trying to make a quick exit from your apartment, and as he stumbled, he blurted out, “hey, can I get your number? for dog emergencies!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “dog emergencies?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“you know, buddy might need a playdate or... or a treat,” he fumbled, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “or if i accidentally steal your trash...”

“okay, that sounds like a solid reason,” you replied, trying to suppress your grin as you wrote down your number on a sticky note and handed it to him. “but it’s not like he’s going to call me.”

“you never know!” soobin joked, glancing at the note before slipping it into his pocket with a satisfied grin.

the days that followed were filled with little surprises. you’d receive random texts from him, often accompanied by pictures of buddy in various ridiculous poses—like the time he’d managed to get his head stuck in a cereal box, or when he was sprawled out on the floor, tongue out, looking utterly defeated after a long walk. each message came with a lighthearted caption that made you chuckle.

“buddy found the ultimate hiding spot. no one will ever find him!” one message read, the accompanying picture showing the golden retriever wedged between the couch and the wall, his big brown eyes peeking out like he was plotting a secret escape.

you found yourself looking forward to these texts, each one brightening your day a little more than the last. sometimes you’d respond with your own pictures—like a candid shot of you attempting to bake cookies (which ended with a flour explosion in your kitchen) or a video of your cat giving you the cold shoulder after you accidentally stepped on his tail.

then there were the instagram reels. soobin would send you random clips that were almost always about dog humor—like the one of a dog desperately trying to catch its tail but only succeeding in tripping over itself. “this is buddy every morning,” he captioned, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you imagined his dog bouncing around in a similar fashion.

“what’s with all the dog content?” you texted back one afternoon, grinning at your phone screen.

“dogs are life,” he replied instantly. “and buddy is basically my child. wouldn’t you want to see every moment of his existence?”

“fair point,” you typed back, shaking your head at how seriously he took his role as a dog dad. “just don’t expect me to babysit anytime soon.”

“how about we do a double date?” he proposed jokingly. “you, me, and buddy? i’ll provide the treats, you bring the toys.”

“sounds like a plan,” you responded, a small thrill coursing through you at the thought. “but if buddy eats my favorite toy, we’re going to have a problem.”

the banter continued, each conversation layered with a comfortable rhythm that felt natural. there was something about the way he interacted with you that made it easy to let your guard down. and in those moments, you found yourself looking forward to the next time you’d see him—no longer just as the mysterious neighbor but as someone who was becoming an integral part of your life.

the following weekend, you both decided to meet for coffee at a local café. it was your first official hangout outside the confines of your apartment, and excitement bubbled in your chest as you walked into the shop. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you, and you scanned the room for soobin.

he was already there, perched at a small table in the corner, a steaming cup in front of him and buddy lying at his feet, looking adorably patient. as soon as he saw you, he waved enthusiastically, his smile brightening the cozy atmosphere.

“hey! over here!” he called, standing up as you approached. “i hope you like this place. buddy does, which is basically my criteria for any establishment.”

you chuckled as you took a seat across from him. “so, what does buddy think? is this place up to snuff?”

“he’s giving it a solid four paws,” he replied, glancing down at buddy, who was wagging his tail, clearly enjoying the vibe of the café. “though he’s more interested in the snacks they give out than the coffee.”

“priorities,” you said, laughing as you imagined buddy’s enthusiasm. “i can relate.”

the conversation flowed effortlessly as you sipped your drinks, discussing everything from your favorite books to the best dog parks in the city. soobin shared stories about buddy’s antics, and you found yourself hanging onto every word, amused by the way he animatedly described each little adventure.

“one time, he decided he wanted to chase a squirrel,” soobin said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “and in his eagerness, he leaped right into a fountain! it was like something out of a cartoon—he came out soaked and just sat there, looking utterly betrayed.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the scene. “did he recover? i can’t imagine he’d take that lightly.”

“he was fine, but he gave me the dirtiest look afterward,” soobin said, mimicking buddy’s disgruntled expression, which only made you laugh harder.

as you both shared stories and laughter, the connection between you deepened. it was a slow burn, building gradually, like the gentle warmth of a fire that had just begun to flicker to life. you found yourself stealing glances at soobin, his smile infectious, his passion for his dog evident in every word. and when your eyes met, there was a spark—something unspoken yet palpable that lingered in the air.

by the time you finished your coffees, you felt a sense of ease, as if you’d known him for much longer than just a few weeks. the way he looked at you, his eyes twinkling with warmth and sincerity, made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected.

“we should do this more often,” soobin said, packing up his things as buddy nuzzled his leg, eager to get moving.

“definitely,” you agreed, feeling a grin spread across your face. “i’ll bring the treats next time.”

“and i’ll bring the chaos,” he promised, a playful glint in his eyes.

you both stood to leave, and as you walked side by side, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

one morning, with the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through your apartment, you felt a rush of excitement. you’d decided to surprise soobin with a batch of chocolate chip cookies and some homemade dog treats for buddy. you could picture the delighted look on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he tasted your baking.

clutching the container tightly, you made your way to his door, heart racing at the thought of sharing something so personal. but as you lifted your hand to knock, the door swung open unexpectedly.

standing there was a woman you didn’t recognize. she had a bright smile and an air of casual confidence as she walked right past you without so much as a word. confusion flitted through your mind as you watched her, but then your gaze shifted to soobin, who stood in the doorway looking equally surprised to see you.

“oh, hey! i didn’t expect you this morning,” he said, his tone cheerful but slightly bewildered.

you felt heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding over you as you awkwardly held out the container. “i, uh, brought you some cookies and treats for buddy,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady.

before he could respond, the woman walked back through the doorway, completely ignoring the interaction. your heart sank as realization hit you. the closeness of their familiarity sent a pang of insecurity through you. were they together? the thought made you feel nauseous.

“oh, um, i should go,” you muttered, the words escaping your lips before you could process them. you turned on your heel and hurried back to your unit, locking the door behind you as if that would shield you from the embarrassment.

for days afterward, you tried to avoid soobin. you found yourself deliberately taking a longer route to the elevator to avoid running into him in the hall. it was ridiculous, really; how could you be catching feelings for a guy who might already have a girlfriend? you felt grossed out by yourself, convinced that your infatuation was misguided.

despite your efforts to create distance, the texts kept coming. soobin sent you updates about buddy, silly memes, and cute dog reels that made you smile despite yourself. but with every message, your heart ached, and you felt more confused.

one afternoon, as you sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you felt a mix of confusion and longing. soobin’s texts had become a lifeline, his silly memes and dog videos bringing unexpected joy amid your self-imposed isolation. but every time your phone buzzed with a message from him, a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach, reminding you of the distance you were trying to maintain.

when you heard a knock at your door, your heart raced. you knew it was soobin, and the thought of facing him made you want to disappear. after a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly opened the door, finding him standing there, his brow furrowed in concern.

“hey, can we talk?” he asked, his voice soft yet urgent. “i’ve noticed you’ve been... avoiding me. did i do something wrong?”

the sincerity in his eyes sent your heart racing, but the weight of your feelings and the embarrassment of the situation crashed over you. you hesitated, caught between wanting to explain and the fear of being vulnerable. before you could stop yourself, your tongue slipped. “i can't keep talking to you; you have a girlfriend, that's just weird,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out with a mix of frustration and mortification.

soobin’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise, his brows furrowing deeper. “what? no, i don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with disbelief.

“but—” you stammered, flustered. “i saw a girl come out of your apartment the other day. she seemed... close to you.”

“that was my sister!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “she just moved in for the summer. we were just hanging out.”

the realization hit you like a wave, crashing against the dam of your confusion. “oh,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “i... didn’t know.”

you both stood there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken feelings and awkwardness, before it cracked, and you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. it felt like a weight had lifted off your shoulders.

“so what now?” you asked, recovering from the laugh, your heart racing as you met his gaze.

he smiled, the warmth in his eyes making your stomach flutter. without breaking eye contact, he reached out and gently grabbed your pinky with his big hand. you raised your eyebrows, intrigued. “are we on the same page?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

you felt your cheeks heat up as you whispered, “i think so...”

his smile grew bigger, a mix of relief and excitement, and he fully enveloped your small hand with his larger one, sending butterflies racing through your chest.

“where are you taking me?” you asked, following him as he started to pull you out of your unit, excitement bubbling within you.

“i’m going to introduce you to my sister,” he said, a teasing look dancing in his eyes.

“soobin!” you exclaimed, playfully hitting his arm, laughter spilling out. the warmth of your connection felt electric, each shared laugh building a bridge between you that you never knew was missing in your life.

gyo's note: OMG YES boy next door soobin alsjdhsdhsh, i’m changing the posting schedule to every friday (bcs i have a vv shitty schedule for mg rle and lecture and HOPEFULLY i could finish alumni homecoming kai asap (yes pray for my writer's blocked braincells) if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 day ago

Note

RIDDLE DREAM SPOILER‼️‼️‼️

Lmao, why is his dream just...

"Quit your job"

"Why?"

"Join my emo band!"

(No but honestly, its a bit cute that, Riddle, in all his seriousness and rules sticking, still seemed to choose a more alt way to dress in his dream, like he still wants to rebel in some way. It was a plot twist in a way since many may have thought that Riddle would have cranked up on his authoritarian ways all the way to eleven, and yet his dream is silly, like all the other house warden's dreams seemed to be more serious in a way and showed off one aspect that we knew off, Leona's low self esteem and Azul wanting to completly overwrite his past, but Riddle wasn't quite that, we knew of his want for rebelion, but his dream wasn't full anarchy, it was just... rebelling in the small ways)

(Sorry for any misspelling, english isn't my native lenguage)

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I just saw that meme on Twitter with Riddle and Cater 😭

I was shocked by Riddle’s new look in the dream… It’s close to alt fashion in the west, but I believe it is supposed to be Japanese visual kei. All that black… I don’t know, I don’t think dark eye and lip makeup suits him?? But that’s just me, what do I know about style www

I’m surprised Riddle even knows what that kind of clothing is…? You’d think his mom would not allow him to be exposed to this kind of fashion. I was half expecting Cater to mention he had shared it with Riddle at NRC on a slow day and Riddle expressing a little curiosity about it but ultimately holding himself back from dressing adventurously. That never ended up happening…

I do think that an authoritarian dream has its representation in the second and third layers of Riddle’s mind. The darker implication is certainly there. However, I think it makes the most sense for his surface level dream to be about his childish desires and experiences he never had. As much as Riddle might claim to be mature and to know it all, some part of him desperately misses out on happy childhood memories. He shares this sentiment after recovering from his overblot (“And after a meal, I want to be the one sitting around talking with everyone... And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey.”). In events like Endless Halloween Night, Riddle tells his peers that he isn’t familiar with traditional entertainment media like movies or video games; he did crosswords and read textbooks as a child. Various voice lines, like his Suitor Suit, where he wishes his parents’ marriage was happy, or his Beachwear, where he complains about how he is not used to this kind of scandalous clothing, also express this.

I wouldn’t describe Riddle’s dream as an expression of him wanting to rebel or to have anarchy, per se. Wanting more freedom and a longing for a chance to express one’s inner child isn’t necessarily equal to being rebellious. Many of the things he desires are very childish: not wanting to go to school or to study, eating desserts multiple times a week, drinking tea sweet, being able to play all day, always having emotionally available parents, not having to follow rules, having many friends and a happy family… These are not all tied to being rebellious, these are things most children want. It speaks to Riddle wanting to have those childhood experiences he missed out on and having more independence… Being allowed to be his own person rather than a puppet on strings his mother controls and makes all the decisions for.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Riddle Rosehearts #Cater Diamond #notes from the writing raven #jp spoilers #book 7 chapter 12 part 3 spoilers #book 1 spoilers

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princessmaeee · 2 days ago

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I think I need myself some secret romance T.O.P and GD's little sister

Discretion ? I don't think So

Hello ! So, first of all, I'm sorry for the wait, it often take me some time to do the request cause I need time to think and get inspired. The challenge with that was to make it in one part so it's more of a relation than romance. Otherwise for a fanfiction it probably could have been a cute Slow Burn. I hope you will still Like it. TW : Not full Smut but mention of it.

You stepped out of the train and directly rushed into Jiyong's arms when you noticed him. Since you didn't live at Seoul and didnt have a car Yet, when you want to visit your brother, you always take the train and of course, he’s always there to bring you at the train station. With all the fame Big bang has, having you around is always a little bit dangerous. Even If you are G-Dragon's little sister and all the fanbase knows about you, sneaking you into the house is not that easy. After all, your brother lives with other guys and if the fans came to know about you staying with them even for vacation, that could be a problem. Who knows what can happen in those walls. And actually, The fanbase wouldn't be wrong this time. After all, you are secretly in a relationship with Seung Hyun for almost a year now and even your own brother doesn't know about it. When You visit him at Seoul, it's of course to see and spend time with him but also with your boyfriend. When you can’t do a trip to Seoul, it happen that Seung Hyun come to see you or his days off and pass two or three day at your place and as much as you like to have him around, it’s kinda hard since you can’t do activities like a normal couple outside of the horse so you prefer to see him at Seoul. It’s easier to plan things and have more privacy. On your way to the boys house, you talk with Ji Yong about recent things that happened at work and some drama around it. You said how some coworkers are annoying, asking you out again and again, making him laugh.

_Why are you Laughing ? _They seem to like you a lot to ask you again and again. Why do you not accept to just go out with one of them ? _Well, because… I don’t want a Boyfriend. I need to focus on my work and I don’t want any distraction. And if things didn’t end well, I don’t want things to be weird or the other coworker to involve themselves into everything. _Yeah, now that you mention it, it’s totally fair.

It’s kinda hard to not be able to say to Him that you already have a Boyfriend. Normally I would have been the first to know, but since this person is a member of his group, you prefer to keep it secret to avoid potential problems. As much as you wish to marry Seung Hyun and end your life with him, you are still careful cause you both don’t want to create issues if your relationship has to come to an end.

Once you entered the boys house, you could smell something nice in the air and smiled. Daesung and Taeyang, who were playing video Games came to greet you and hugged you. Seung Hyun was the last one to come see you and when you saw him, you couldn’t help it and smiled more. He wore a dirty apron, making you guess he was one who cooked tonight. He does that often when he comes to see you at your place. Actually He never let you cook when he’s around. You hope it’s not cause once Ji Yong told everyone you messed up some easy recipes like rice or eggs. You even burned some cookies you had made for school when you were sixteen. Now you are way better at cooking things since you live alone.

_What are you making for us Tonight, Seung Hyun ? Asked your brother _Oh, you're gonna see. Something you will probably enjoy, he answered as he gave you a look. _And How do you know she will ? _You talk about her so much, I start to guess what she will like, he answered before his eyes went back to you. You will have to excuse me for not giving you a hug like the others did, I'm sort of… dirty. _It’s fine, let’s save this for later, you answered with a smile. Do you need help in the kitchen? _Hell No, answered Ji Yong, I would like to still have a Kitchen by the end of the evening. Let Seung Hyun handle it while we go put your stuff in your room.

The boys laugh at your brother’s comment and you blush,embarrassed. Your brother let you use Taeyang old room. Since he lives with his wife now, this room is empty most of the time and almost became yours. You planned to stay a week so you packed a lot of outfits and even some more… revealing, hoping to have at least one moment alone with your boyfriend. As you put everything in the drawers, someone knocked at your door before it open. You turn around to see who it was and smile when you notice Seung Hyun. He had removed his dirty apron. You didn’t lose time and threw yourself in his arms, hugging him tightly as he hug you back.

_I missed you, you said. _I missed you too.

You stayed a little more in his arms before he let you go. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and went back to your clothes duties.

_For how long did you plan to stay, he asked. _A week, at least. I took vacation from work because I wanted to spend more time with you. I hope it’s okay.. _Of course, We will figure out when we can have a little date.

You both heard Ji Yong's voice from the kitchen, saying the meal will burn if Seung Hyun does not come back to watch after it. You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend opened the door.

_See you later, love, He said before leaving.

The first evening you had with the guys was fun. Seung Hyun's food was delicious as alway, he even cooked cookies. He was right about how much you will enjoy it, cause you did. After dinner, you helped the boys to clean the kitchen and discussed having a game night. Taeyang refused, saying he had to go home, but all the others agreed. Ji Yong and Daesung left to go grab some snacks at the grocery store, leaving you alone with Seung Hyun. You quickly decided to go take a shower. As you undressed in the bathroom, the door behind you slowly opened before you could feel your boyfriend’s arms around you and his lips on your naked shoulder. You shiver and smile.

_Want to take a Shower with me ? You asked softly. _I would love to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. The guys will come back soon.

You turned around and passed your arms around his neck, still smiling.

_So we're gonna have to make it quick.

You pressed your Lips against SeungHyun's, as your fingers slided in his air. His hands on your hips pulled you closer to him as he answered your kiss. You slowly take a step back, still holding him, carefulling making your way to the shower, your lips still glued to his. When you were close enough, your hands went down to the base of his top and removed it, pulling away from his lips before you crashed it back to it.

_Okey, You win, Go first, I will join you in a minute, said Seun Hyun against your lips.

You pulled away, smiling before you started the shower and entered it. When your boyfriend was ready, he joined you in it and pushed you against the cold wall of the shower. His lips came back to yours and you quickly started to forget that you had to make it really quick. The room was filled by the steam of the shower but also from the heat of your bodies collapsing against each other. Once you finished ‘’ taking a shower ‘’ you got out and rolled yourself in a big towel as Seung hyun put his around his hips. He gently kissed you on the forehead and left the room first. That’s when you heard your brother’s voice coming from the living room.

_What about time guys. You could have told us at least that you wanted to be alone.

Seung hyun had frozen in the living room when he noticed JiYong and Daesung on the couch. You felt your cheeks burning and you quickly put on your pyjama before getting out of the bathroom to join them in the living room. This time, you had nothing to say. No excuses could be used.

_From how long have you been back ? You asked _Long enough to hear things I would like to never hear again. But at least we had our headphones.

You looked at Seung Hyun, he looked as embarrassed as you.

_I know you guys are a thing but next time, warn us. Since when ? Asked your boyfriend _I had my doubts when Once a month your snapchat map says you are at my sister’s house. And We also caught you when we came back from the studio and you were asleep on the couch last time Y/N visited. And after today I can be certain that discretion is not your thing at all.

As much embarrassed you felt, you were sort of happy that your brother knew. You will not have to hide anymore in front of him or any other group member, at least.

#x reader #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p bigbang #kwon jiyong #g dragon #big bang #big bang x reader #choi seunghyun x reader #top x reader #request

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maudie-duan · 2 days ago

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Summary: Just Harry reeling over his Ex...All the angst Warning: 18+ Language, Major Angst, Mentions/Mature Content. W/C: 2.2k

I didn’t shed a tear the day you left. I don’t know what you were expecting of me when every piece you took was a persistent reminder, a dull ache of all the missing parts of myself I could never get back.

Once, you told me, “Sometimes…I don’t think this is going to work, but then I see you, your face, and you make me forget about every fight we’ve ever had, and that scares me.” those words falling from your mouth as I held you, our naked bodies tucked beneath the sheets, me, watching the tranquil rise and fall of your chest, our flesh and bones lay heaped together, once easy lovers, I felt your words spurring a fight within me, and I held my tongue, knowing I was seconds away from ruining the moment.

And there were so many fights, weren’t there? How many nights did I spend waiting for you in hotel rooms, knowing it would end in tears, but I had to see you? I was hopeless for you. How was it that you managed to become the center of my universe, yet I was merely a turn in the revolving door of men that would soon follow—after us, after the enviable…

When you screamed, “I hate you! I hate this—I hate who you’ve become…” Did you mean those words?

Because we were never going to last—I can’t tell you how nights I held you, thinking you could be the one that sticks, the one that lasts, and I never told you that. Was it my pride? No, I was a coward. I was scared to death. Everything about you frightened me; my love for you was bigger than anything I’ve ever felt. You left a lasting effect, like black magic; you left me trembling at your every whim. How did you do it? How did you walk away and never look back?

How has it been nearly a year, and I still haven’t heard from you? Did you run? Did you see me becoming the flesh you said I was, all the demons you fought and kept at bay? Did you see them rising, swallowing any good you’ve ever made of me because you were the reason for any light that ever rose to the surface.

I wanted to reach out and tell you about the time I ran into your friend Samantha, how she turned into a loathing pit of self-sabotage. I didn’t care if I dug the hole further; your silence kept me anxious, repeatedly toeing the line between right and wrong, and I know there’s no excuse for why I did it; it just happened.

You know I never liked Samantha—you must admit I was patient with her. Her constant presence aggravated the shit out of me, not to mention she was one of your worst friends, yet you kept her around—why is that? When she approached me at a party, cornering me in the kitchen, she asked if we had talked. It had only been four months then. I thought it was strange for her to be talking to me. It made me question her loyalty to you because I don’t think I have ever held more than a short conversation, maybe in passing, I don’t know, but I had nothing to say to her—I was still bitter then, still angry with how you left.

When I dodged her question and asked what she had been up to, attempting to be polite, she must have taken it as an open invitation to monopolize my time, and as I nodded my head, barely listening to a word Samantha said, she started getting closer.

And then, there were more drinks, and I found myself laughing, which was weird because I couldn’t stand the person standing before me. At some point, I caught sight of her wrist, that tattoo, the matching one you guys got on your 21st birthday. It was another reminder, agitating my thoughts with the idea of your absence, a gut punch that we no longer existed.

That’s when the tattoo became my focal point, pulling me under, and I downed another drink as the boundary between acquaintance and interest began to blur, the world around me fading into a faint chatter.

How many times had I kissed the soft, delicate skin of your wrist, that same tattoo staring back at me? Sometimes, the black ink danced in my vision as you caressed my cheek, that same tattoo blurring into moments of passion, your wrist pumping up and down every time you stoked my dick, time and time again, the memory sharp across my vision, and I’m drowning in it—drowning in another drink, then Samantha’s hand is on my arm, no longer toeing that line.

I promise all I could see was that damn tattoo, and then in an obscure blink of an eye, it became yours because you were all I could think about, and when Samantha offered me another drink. I felt weightless and numb, my mouth barely moving, and I swear all I did was blink, and when I opened my eyes, Samantha was closing a door.

Another blink, and she’s on her knees, someone knocking on the bathroom door; I had no clue how we even got to that point. Every blink became a distant memory of the seconds passing me by.

Everything that was happening in that moment would solidify our ending—Blink, hand, wrist, blink, hand, wrist, blink, until Samantha’s face had vanished—her head bobbing up and down, moans slipping past my lips as the room spun, my vision dizzying, clouding into scattered motions, because I think I’m pulling my pants up now, me trying to focus on that same hand swiping the corner of a mouth that isn’t yours. Then it’s all disappearing, and I’m closing my eyes, the world spinning way too fast, reeling away until I don’t even recognize the voices calling out to me—and like the miserable excuse for human I am, I’m waking up in my bed, alone, just like before.

Unforgivable, I know—This is what I’ve become without you. Maybe you think I haven’t shed a tear, but if you only knew how every thought has been for you, perhaps you would have changed your mind—I deserved the silence; I asked for it, but do you not think of me at all?

How was it so easy to move on?

Tell me, do you search for me in every facet of the men you meet? The tiny similarities that are undeniable, or am I arrogant enough to believe you’d even care? You would never tell me, but I’ve seen it in the men you keep. That one guy that only wore Gucci, the other one swimming in tattoos, the current guy laughable because you said you would never date another Brit—he was bold enough to take you on, but will he be bold enough to keep you?

I heard you sold your house, and now you live in London, prancing around the same streets that I walk. I wonder if you ever go to our same places if every landmark that grows more and more familiar will always have my face attached to it.

Remember when I begged for our future and told you I would buy you any house you wanted, and you cried, tears streaming as we yelled, the desperation suffocating us both? You said I would never commit, that my career would always come first, and I know it felt that way at the time, but why couldn’t you see that I was trying to think of our future? In my mind, you were always going to be part of that.

You called me materialistic, but how is a house, not a commitment? A house is a house, but you would have made it a home; you were home for me—You were the milestone, a constant in the haze in which my days slipped past me. Watching as the seconds ticked away, seconds waning into time lost—The minutes may have passed us by, but at least we had each other. Why was that never enough?

And now it seems like you’re the one running while I wait idle, watching you run circles around the life we could have had. Tell me, are you dizzy yet? You’ve almost changed everything about you; did you do it for him? I heard you’re busy now; never a moment to stop. Does it get exhausting waiting for the world to catch up?

Sometimes, when I walk the streets at night, going to our old places, I wonder if I’ll see you or if I’d recognize you. Have you seen me around? Do you want to see me?

I left you a voicemail the other day. Did you get it? Just the other night. Did you look at the date that morning and think of me? It would have been our four-year anniversary, and I know you weren’t a fan of celebrating silly made-up days…a silly day you called it. You never needed a specific day to celebrate our love because you were always good at that—thoughtful—I’m sorry if I never made you feel like you weren’t enough, because I think about it now. All the ways I could have been better, and isn’t that so fucking cliche?

I’m sorry that I called you drunk; one long message of me crying for a love you probably no longer feel. Was he there? Does he know that I called? Did you see the message and wait until you were alone? Savor the sound of my voice pleading like you always wanted. Did it make you feel anything? When he held you in his arms that night, did you bask in a sense of belonging, or did you wish it was me? Because you’re all that I can think about. Why did you let me shine for so long, building us up, brick by brick, all the work we did, only to let it crumble under a foundation I thought would last forever?

We were more than the fights; tell me you remember the good. Tell me you wanted it to last. Tell me something. Please, just give me anything to believe in because I don’t think this is over. Even if it’s been days since I called, tell me you’ve been thinking about me and what I said. I meant every word, drunk or not; they were still my words. Maybe you hate me? Because that, I could understand, because then there would be a reason as to why you never called. Listen, you have every right to hate me but just say one thing. Tell me anything; just don’t leave me in the dark forever.

The last thing you said to me was, “Harry, I love you, but love isn’t always enough…”

What wasn’t enough? Do you want me to give it all up? It could all go away right now if that’s what you wanted, but I don’t think that’s it because I know you. We’re the same. You would get bored, and I would get bored, and then we would fight, and there would never be an answer, something to satiate that constant drive pushing you forward, and what is it that you wanted? Why couldn’t you tell me?

I keep thinking back to the last time we made love. Did you know it would be the last time? When I laid you down in our bed, and I pressed my lips to yours, you pulled away, gazing up into my eyes, and whispered, “I love you…” that delicate look upon your face, that look that stole my breath as I pushed inside you. I hear you moan a soft sigh into my ear, moving our bodies to a rhythm that was ours, sinking into a scared place that only we knew when our bodies pressed as one, where space between us didn’t exist.

A primal give and take, an exchange of breath, where roaming hands sought the purchase of familiar skin, we lay flesh to flesh, where shame never reared its ugly head. In a place where you knew me better than I knew myself, safe from the world, in your arms as our bodies moved and hardened, taking pieces of each other every second we could, with no thought of how those missing pieces would become the collective hurt that would haunt us in our days to come.

Is it better? Does he make come? Do you ever come together? Does he make you come undone the way you like, the way you said no one else could do? Tell me, when he pushes in and out of you, is there a longing? A reminder of a missing piece. When it’s good, and you’re calling out his name, do you almost say mine?

What about me?

Does he drive you wild, push you to the edge like I did? Do you miss me at all? Do you miss anything about me? Tell me he’s a distraction and that all you needed was space because if you came back, nothing else would matter; all the time that’s stretched out between us, the bodies that have filled our beds, the temporary high of another was never enough, I promise, because when we were at our highest, there could be no another.

And as I pick up my phone, your name flashing across the screen, I’m desperate enough to answer, and then your voice fills the line, and I’m right back in that hopeless place, thinking maybe, just maybe, you’ll take me back.

A/N: Just a quick little story for whoever needs a little angst in their day. Harry down bad always gets me.

My Tiny Masterlist<-

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harbourslighthouse · 8 hours ago

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you give jason todd a scare

(inspired by this post).

author's note - what’s this? another post about jason? wild.

You should have been home three hours ago.

Jason’s hands tighten around the handlebars of his motorcycle. The leather fabric of his gloves crease, slick with rain and pinching around his fingers. It’s not often that you hang back for so long afterhours, though Jason is well aware that you offer your help without second thought, often forgetting about everything else in favour of assisting where you can.

But it’s been three hours since your usual closing time, and you haven’t sent him a text yet. You always send him a text.

Clenching his jaw, Jason wipes his arm across his face harshly, brushing away the rain that lingers on his lashes. It’s not the vibrations of the engine beneath him that’s sending his thighs subtly shaking—no, it’s the adrenaline slowly inching into his system, the panic he can feel twisting inside his chest.

What if you’re alone in the pouring rain? Soaked to the bone?

The traffic light blinks green, and Jason squints through the sheets of rain while kicking back the stand. The line of cars jolt forward, brake lights dimming as tires roll across rain-soaked asphalt.

Exhaling sharply, Jason’s eyes constantly search around him, feeling as if he’s some sort of cop looking for the slightest infraction. None of Gotham’s cops do that here, but it’s what he’s seen in the few movies you’ve made him watch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jason murmurs beneath his breath, body leant forward as rain pricks against his skin, tapping violently against his leather jacket.

“Where? Tell me where…”

The traffic lights ahead glow a bright red, blurred by the onslaught of water, and Jason holds down several curses and a groan. He can feel the dread in his stomach, wrapping around his intestines as he slowly comes to a stop behind a white KIA.

He needs to reach your workplace—he has to see if you’re still there, and that, maybe, your phone is just dead. It must be, because he tried to track down the location of your mobile, but nothing had come up. No blinking blue dot on his screen revealed your location to him, and nothing on Earth would get him to ask Oracle to step in. He has this under control. He’s not going to panic. Not yet.

As cars rumble around him and the bike’s engine rattles beneath him, Jason silently berates himself for not having some sort of conversation about things like this with you. He should have given you instructions on what to do if your phone dies, or if you can’t get home for some reason—he could have prevented all of this if he had just given you the right steps to take. And what if you’re in more danger than he thinks? Wouldn’t it be his fault if you weren’t prepared at all or trained to some small degree in order to defend yourself? If anything bad has happened to you, that would fall on him. Without a doubt.

A horn blares behind Jason, echoing painfully in his ears. The lights have flashed green, the neon colour reflecting off the cars as they lumber forward again. He would have sent the guy a rude gesture over his shoulder, but you’re running through his head—bright eyes made gentle when they lock with his, and your words quiet and low like always. He’s sure that you speak quietly for him personally, like it’s your mission in life to never speak abruptly around him, and he’s never been able to explain to you why that matters to him.

But you’ve never needed him to explain anything. You’re too intuitive for your own good. Too understanding. Too good.

“Jason!”

His heart stops. Beats once. Skips a beat. Beats erratically again. That couldn’t have been…was that…you?

Swivelling his head around frantically, Jason pays no mind to the driver behind him angrily blaring his horn, the sound filling up the street. He knows he just heard you, however faint it was over the rain.

“(Name)! Baby!” Jason calls out, voice thick with worry.

“Jason!”

Yes, that’s you—that’s you.

And you’re flailing your arms above your head, jumping up and down on the side of the curb.With his pulse drumming inside his ears, Jason barely gives it a second thought as he floors it, weaving through the moving cars and crossing lanes to reach you.

People surrounding you glance at him wearily as the engine roars, but you don’t pay them any mind as Jason screeches to a halt directly in front of you.

You barely blink and Jason’s kicking the stand and hopping off his bike. For a moment, you think he’s angry as he strides up to you, with his brows pinched together and his jaw clenched.

Your mouth opens pitifully as you prepare to stumble out your rehearsed apology, but your words die on your tongue as strong hands wrap around your biceps, and Jason grapples you to him. A huff of air escapes you as you’re shoved against his chest, but the shock instantly melts away, and you grab fistfuls of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you say into his shoulder. Guilt gnaws at your stomach, and you let him tighten his grip around you, even if it feels like your ribcage might snap.

“My phone died.” Your voice shakes, and you squeeze your eyes shut as rain taps against your scalp. “And Meggie wanted me to help her with something after closing, and then her ride ditched her so we were trying to figure out an uber for her cause the taxis are terrible and—”

“Stop talking.”

You inhale sharply. “Okay.”

The silence feels tense, and the rain pricks into your skin like needles, sharp and relentless. But it’s nothing compared to the turmoil you feel on the inside, the guilt that’s threatening to send you into tears—but you can’t cry. No, this isn’t about how you feel, this is about Jason.

“Sweetheart,” Jason murmurs against your scalp, and you catch the tremor in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“I—baby, don’t do that again.” Jason pulls away, and he brings his large hands to cradle your face. You’re reminiscent of a wet alley cat, your hair sticking to your skin and your coat hanging from your frame, heavy with water. But he’s never seen you look as remorseful as you do right now. Any anger or frustration lingering in the back of his mind vanishes within an instant, as if it weren’t even there to begin with.

Purple and pink light from the overhead billboards reflect off your face, haloing your hair. You look beautiful, but more importantly, you’re okay. You’re safe, and he’s holding you in his arms. Despite the rain, despite the chill that clings to the air, your skin is still warm with life.

And that’s more than enough for Jason.

Shaking his head, he brings a hand to gently push against the back of your head and press you closer to him again. He presses a firm kiss to your temple, as if to hammer into your skin the relief surging through him.

Bystanders glance your way, eyeing what simply looks like two people embracing each other with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Feeling the panic in his chest slowly start to ebb away, Jason lets his lips fall to your cheek where he presses featherlight kisses.

You hum softly, fingers tightening around the creases in his jacket.

“I love you, Jay,” you say quietly, because you know he needs to hear it.

Jason’s heart rampages against his ribcage.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader #jason todd/you #redhood x reader #red hood x you #red hood/reader #red hood/you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood

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trashcakery · 2 days ago

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fadelstyle headcanons bc why tf not

Style has already apologized (wholeheartedly and with tears) for ambushing Fadel’s support group sessions.

Every Saturday, they make breakfast together, trying new recipes, flavors, etc. They also almost always fuck it all up, because Style is too distracting in an apron.

Style listens to heavy metal now.

Fadel often naps with his head on Style’s lap, and Style plays with his hair while he sleeps.

Fadel and Style’s dad watch 70s/80s shows together, leaving Style completely left out. They actually have nearly identical 80s rock CD collections too.

Style asks Fadel about his ex often. His personality, their time together, what Fadel loved about him. He’s even suggested they take flowers and visit his grave together. When you’re ready.

Fadel has yet to win an argument.

Saying no to Style is literally impossible for him. He’ll frown, sulk, look pissed, but never actually say no.

Fadel has bad days, lows that become debilitating. His past crashes down on him, but Style is always there. Gentle. Quiet. Giving him space, but also taking care of him. Helps him in the shower. Brings him food. Takes it away when Fadel refuses to eat. Brings it back. Holds him while he sleeps.

They love shopping together. Fadel loves the way Style glows when he tries on new clothes.

Yes, they’re both freaks. Yes, it excites them to do it in public, grabbing at each other’s necks, indulging in chest play, roleplay, you name it. But their biggest turn-on, especially for Fadel, is actually being domestic. Being soft and vanilla, even. No, because think about it— Style has probably had his fair share of sleeping around, experimenting, partying, going wild. Fadel, on the other hand, has always felt burdened by his body and its needs. His teenage years, his early adulthood, none of it was normal. He never got to experience sweetness. Never got to take his time, to feel wanted, to feel loved. To him, sex was always transactional, until his ex, who 'left' the moment Fadel showed vulnerability. So yeah, they love being wild. But what they love more is being at home—lazy morning sex, showering together, taking it slow, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s actually so sweet and heartbreaking.

After months of nagging, Fadel finally folds and teaches Style how to use a gun.

Style knows how to use a knife very well. (Don’t ask how they found out.)

Fadel practically lives at Style’s house, spends 80% of his time there.

Style’s dad is teaching Fadel how to fix his car. “What do you mean you’re marrying into our family without knowing these basics???”

Fadel whimpers. :)

Style has proudly stolen and cut up at least ten of Fadel’s t-shirts, including a vintage 1970s Led Zeppelin Rules America tee that he spent half his savings on when he was 16.

Style loves taking Fadel’s fingers into his mouth when they have sex, because it drives Fadel insane. :)

One time, while they were just hanging out in Fadel’s room, Style asked, “So when did you start finding me attractive?” Fadel’s face went beet red. Style, being the menace that he is, kept pushing, until Fadel finally blurted: “Yes, I found you attractive the moment I saw you. Yes, I thought about you while I was alone. Yes, of course I fucking did. And yes, it happened here—where else would it happen?” A smirk. “So you liked it when I lay on my stomach for you in the sauna… like this?” Style rolls onto his stomach, looks up at Fadel exactly like he did that day. “Tell me, what did you think about? Did you imagine my face?” “Shut up." “Did you imagine they were my hands or mouth?” “Style.” “Did you call my name?”

They both smell amazing. Fadel wears deep, earthy colognes. Style wears fruity, flowery ones. He also goes crazy for lip balms so Fadel buys him a new one every time he goes to the grocery store.

“Hey, you really need to stop being so trusting.” “He said his cat was dying.” “Style, he was literally trying to steal your wallet.” “But he showed me a photo. :( He had one leg missing.” “…Jesus fucking christ.”

#fadelstyle #joongdunk #thk #the heart killers #fadew #obsessed with their dynamic

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from-the-owls-nest · 20 hours ago

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Well... It's your life. and your personality. so nobody gets to tell you or to decide how they want you to be. They can share how they see you, how they've experienced you, and you get to decide if that still fits, or maybe later again, or if that's a Past You thing, or if you just don't know yet. Transformations and Changes and not knowing are human. And people who love you will love you however you are and want you to be happy over keeping any image they built up of you intact and forcing you into it. *cough* my parents

Also: who someone is has so many different parts. things they like, things they're good at, things they do a lot, things they want to do, traits, memories. There's not one thing that defines all of you. And if something changes or goes missing - sometimes things are just behind a cloud, or like hibernating, and come back when there's space for them, like that or in a different form.

And the other thing... Well. Uh. I don't know what future you will think. I don't know what future me will think. And if I don't know - I try to keep the options open until I maybe will know.

I sorta... this will sound silly. I have an agreement with myself that I'll try to make the best choice with the information I have in a moment, so I dont get to be mad at myself later because I was trying my best. And in retrospect that I try to not make choices future me has to clean up or impacts them badly, especially permanently. Like - it's unfair to future me to give up if good things can still happen, if there's options left to try, and a path to continue on and see if it can get better. I think it'd be more unfair to potential future me and the experiences future me could make if things go well, to destroy them with me ahead of time, before I've tried everything to change and better things, than it is to keep going through the rough times and to keep them around until then or until the criteria have changed.

We'll often also hear to think of others and what you'd do to them and to keep living for others, and - that can be a good reason, but it shouldn't be that guilt trip thing, or make it less of your choice. In the end you gotta decide what feels right to you and what you want. Nobody should make you do something you genuinely fully don't want. Just... remember that you aren't alone, and that there's people who love you and would support you in figuring things out and finding out who you wanna be and what you want life to be like, okay?

(OOC: anyone reading - even if you genuinely feel like theres no hope left, please reach out to a safe person and see if things change with a bit of distance or new options can appear - if it could have been a passing cloud or a storm that will end in time, or something that can be fixed by time or help. uh. before you make choices that cant be taken back and may lead to a lot of suffering. Thanks. And Tumblr please dont get mad at me.)

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

#But these days I feel A LOT like Will #Like I'm a different person from what people my entire life have belief in me and I'll never fit those shoes #Even though I want to #Even though I KNOW I can #It's just- out of reach #<- hug?#i had that moment too #havent fully found out who i am yet #and it's been two years #but it does get better #yay freedom to be yourself #and to discover yourself in the first place #(disclaimer it's a lot more complicated than that bc mental illness - identity stuff and that agreement)#if you want to ask me in dms someday maybe #Philosophy time again with the endless sentences #i like thinking...

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vikkirosko · 3 days ago

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Can you do platonic angel dust, alastor, carmilla and lucifer reacting to reader who killed Valentino and take over Vox and velvette souls because they tried to kidnapp charlie and use her to blackmail lucifer.

Platonic headcanons A radical solution to the problem

🕷 Angel Dust x Reader 💖

Angel has never had any warm feelings for his boss. Valentino caused him a lot of pain and the only ones who knew about it were Cherri and you. You were his friend, and he saw how angry you were when he told you about what happened again because of his boss. You've always been like this. Short-tempered, but caring towards the people you care about. You lived in a hotel and took care of those who lived there. But one day something changed. You were gone for several days, until finally Angel came to the studio and found traces of the mayhem that had not yet been cleaned up, as well as you, who were addressed as the boss

He hurried to you to find out what had happened and saw that you were wearing bandages. You've obviously been fighting, and you look serious. You smiled tiredly at Angel and took him to the office that belonged to Valentino. It was surprisingly clean and fresh, as if the owner hadn't been there for a long time. When he asked you again what happened, you told him that you had solved an impending problem. You told me that you found out that Valentino, Vox and Velvette were going to kidnap Charlie and blackmail her father. The thought that your friend would be hurt, as well as the fact that they were already causing others a lot of pain, made you lose your temper and you came to stop them. You didn't expect to get so angry that you'd kill Valentino, but you did more than that. You subdued the souls of two of his comrades, and now you seemed to be the most important thing in their business, and they had to obey you

Your words really surprised him. Angel didn't think you could handle Valentino, but you really did. Now you were the big boss in Hell, and you honestly didn't know what to do with it all, but you asked him not to tell Charlie or anyone else about what happened. You didn't want her to feel guilty or indebted to you. Another problem for you was that all the contracts they had signed now went to you, but you didn't need it. Angel understood that you guessed that his soul was now in your hands, too, but he knew that you would not force him to do anything. You could have given him the freedom he couldn't have and the absence of which caused him real pain for so long

You wanted to use the resources you now had to improve the situation in Hell, and you asked Angel to help you with that. He didn't know everything about Valentino's business, but he did know something and was ready to help you. You really freed his soul and now he could do what he wanted and you weren't going to force him, you weren't going to hurt him. Even now, when you had more power in your hands than the three overlords, you were still the same caring person he knew, even though you solved some problems with rather drastic methods

📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙

From the first day you met, Alastor guessed that you were stronger than you seemed at first glance. He wasn't sure if you were fully aware of it yourself. You tried to help others, you took care of your friends, but Alastor saw that you could have taken a higher position in Hell if you wanted to. But when you didn't come back to the hotel one night, he saw how worried Charlie was. She was worried that something had happened to you, her friend, and even your message that she didn't have to worry and that you were fine, just that you had unforeseen things to do, didn't calm the princess down much

You returned to the hotel a couple of days later and Alastor was surprised when you quietly asked him if you could talk. He saw that something was bothering you and he was curious to know what had happened. You told him that you needed his help, but it had to remain a secret from the others, and especially from Charlie. Your story caused him a slight surprise, and his smile seemed to widen. You told him that you accidentally found out that the kidnapping of Charlie was planned. You couldn't let that happen, so you decided to deal with it yourself. Those who were going to organize the kidnapping were Valentino, Vox and Velvette. They wanted to blackmail her father. The thought of it made you very angry and everything got out of control. Now you had two overlords in your hands, and one died at your hands. It's not that you planned this, but you couldn't change what happened, and now you had to do something about the power that you seemed to have now

Alastor was an overlord himself, and you were hoping that he could help you with your sudden business. You got your hands on the power that the three overlords had, and now you didn't know what to do with it at all. Alastor didn't mind giving you some advice, but he definitely wanted to see Vox. He wanted to see how angry and broken he was over what had happened, and Alastor definitely couldn't pass up this opportunity. You did even more than he could have imagined, but he was more than happy with it. Perhaps, under his strict guidance, you would have made a really good overlord, and your trust in him was only to Alastor's advantage

He really helped you, he hid your new power from others and helped you figure out your business. He liked to see how powerless Vox was, and Alastor was sure that he had made the right bet when he chose the princess. His choice has already brought him certain benefits. He was confident that in the future he would be able to use your powers and authority to his advantage, but in the meantime, he had to help you so that in the future you would truly remain on his side no matter what

🗡 Carmilla Carmine x Reader ⚔️

Carmilla knew you well. You've known each other for a long time and have seen each other periodically. She saw potential in you, but you didn't see it in yourself, and she wasn't going to insist. She knew that you weren't completely kind, but you took care of those who were dear to you, and that's exactly what the princess became for you. Charlie was your friend and you took care of her. You even started staying at her hotel to make sure she was going to be okay. Sometimes you sent Carmilla messages telling her about funny things that happened at the hotel, but when you called her late at night, she got worried. You don't usually call this late. When she asked what happened, you asked if you could come to her. She gave her consent, and soon you were standing on her doorstep, stained in someone else's blood

When she asked you what happened, you told her everything from the heart. You told her that you found out that Charlie was going to be kidnapped, and the ones who were going to do it were Vox, Velvette and Valentino. They wanted to blackmail Lucifer, and you couldn't let them do that. You couldn't let them hurt her. Initially, you didn't plan to harm anyone. You were hoping that you could just talk to them, convince them not to, but you were naive and now you've done something you didn't expect yourself to do. You killed Valentino and subdued the souls of Vox and Velvette. When Carmilla heard that, she looked at you in surprise. She didn't expect you to actually do it, but looking at you, she knew you weren't joking

Now you had power and business, but you didn't know what to do with it at all. You weren't even sure if you were an overlord now or not. It seemed like a bad dream that you couldn't wake up from. However, you knew that if anyone could help you figure it out, it was her. Carmilla was experienced and knew much more about business in Hell than you did, which is why you came to her, hoping that she could help you. If she couldn't help you, then no one could do it at all

Carmilla understood that after what you had done, your life would never be the same again. Now you had to bear the burden of responsibility for those areas that were now in your power. She was going to help you to make it easier for you, and perhaps now that you had the power for such a huge part of the business in your hands, she would be able to establish a normal partnership. She didn't have the slightest sympathy for your predecessors, so the fact that you were in charge now calmed her down and gave her hope that living in Hell might become at least a little calmer

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x Reader 🐍

Lucifer was always worried about his daughter. He knew that she could be naive and this could lead to problems in the future. So when she decided to open a hotel, Lucifer asked you for help. You were his friend, and he knew you could be trusted to protect his only daughter. You stayed at the hotel and periodically sent Lucifer photos and messages so that he wouldn't worry. But when you came to him a little gloomy, he realized that something had happened. You wouldn't come suddenly if something important hadn't happened

He saw that there was blood on your clothes, and just wanted to start panicking, when you stopped him, saying that it wasn't your blood and that he better sit down. It was only after Lucifer sat next to you on the couch that you told him that Charlie was going to be kidnapped. You told him that several overlords were going to kidnap her to blackmail him, and you just couldn't let that happen. While you were telling me, Lucifer was feeling angry. He was furious that someone was going to hurt his daughter, but his anger subsided when you told him that you killed one of those who wanted to do it. The names seemed familiar to him, but he wasn't too sure about it. You killed one and subjugated the other two, and now their souls were in your hands

You were ready to give the other two souls to Lucifer if he needed them, but he refused. He understood that since they were in your power now, it meant that you could make sure that they wouldn't cause any more problems. He wanted you to protect his daughter in the future, and now that you had a big business in your hands, it means you could help her hotel

You continued to take care of Charlie and send messages and photos to her father. Sometimes you would tell him about how things were going in your new business. As he suspected, you didn't let go of those who tried to harm the princess in the past. This calmed Lucifer down. The thought that Charlie had someone he could trust to protect her comforted him, because he knew that as long as you were there, she would be safe

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Carmilla Carmine #Carmilla Carmine x Reader #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

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universefcb · 1 day ago

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↬❥Calm drawing

Hector Fort x Fem!Reader

sy: After a fight with his mother, you ask to paint his tattoo.

a/n: I really hope it's what the person asked for, and I apologize if there are mistakes, English is not my native language.

Based on this request

warnings: Cute, cute, cute, cute. Did I say cute?

He ran his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself, but the anger still throbbed inside him.

“This isn’t going to end well…” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Hector?” His girlfriend’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and saw her sitting on the bed, a sketchbook open on her lap and a worried expression on her face.

“What happened now?” she asked, putting the notebook aside and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hector snorted, throwing himself into a chair in the corner of the room.

“The usual. My mother thinks she can decide everything for me. Who knows what's best for me, as if I were still five years old.”

“Did you guys argue about your career again?”

He nodded, running his hand over his face.

“She thinks I’m wasting my time. That I should be focusing on other things. I’m just trying to do things my way.” She sighed. She’d heard variations of this outburst countless times before. She knew Hector didn’t talk much about his feelings, but when he did open up, it was always about this—the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself.

She stood up and walked over to him, crouching down beside him. Hector and his mother had a great relationship, but their fights over the boy prodigy's career were straining their relationship.

“Do you want to take your mind off things for a bit?” She smiled, caressing her boyfriend’s hands.

“What do you mean?” He looked at her, confused.

She smiled and stood up to grab her paint box from the dresser. Then she pointed at his arm.

“Can I paint your tattoo?” Hector raised an eyebrow. Letting a sideways smile appear on his face.

“Paint my tattoo?”

"Yes. Just for fun. Who knows, maybe it will help to ease this tension?” He hesitated. The tattoo on his arm was something important to him, a symbol he carried with him. But at the same time, the idea seemed so absurd that it almost brought a smile to his face.

“As long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he said, crossing his arms and she smiled in satisfaction.

“Trust me.” Hector let out a surprised sigh as you sat on his lap, making the gaming chair move back a little. And you separated the paints and brushes.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, watching her open small bottles of ink.

In a slow movement, he brought his hand to her waist, squeezing it lightly.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll improvise,” she replied, dipping a brush in the blue paint.

The first touch of the cool ink on his skin made Hector shiver slightly, but he soon got used to it. She started with light strokes, filling in the details of the tattoo with soft colors. Little by little, the image on his arm began to take on new life, transforming into a vibrant mix of blues, violets, and golds.

Hector watched the process in silence, feeling his anger slowly dissipate. Her touch was careful, almost therapeutic. With each stroke, he felt his muscles relax.

“How’s it going?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I’m not done yet. It has to wait,” she said, focused.

He smirked. His fingers traced lines on her thigh, making her shiver. Hector threw his head back, feeling a little calmer.

“Who would have thought that painting my tattoo would be your favorite pastime.” You laughed, adjusting yourself against his body, making the chair move again.

“You’re my canvas now. You should be honored,” she joked.

Hector laughed, shaking his head which was still thrown back.

After a while, she stepped back to examine her work. Using a cloth, she made small adjustments, ensuring that the colors blended perfectly.

“There! Now you can look.”

Hector raised his arm and examined the transformed tattoo. Before, it was a monochromatic and serious drawing. Now, it was a true watercolor work of art. The colors flowed organically, giving it a new dimension.

“Wow…” he muttered, impressed.

“Did you like it?” She smiled, satisfied.

“It’s amazing. I never thought I would like this, but… I guess it did me good.”

She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Sometimes we need a little color to remind us that things aren’t just black and white.”

Hector looked at her, and for a moment all the weight of his argument with his mother disappeared. Maybe she was right. Maybe life didn’t have to be so rigid, so full of pressures. Maybe, every now and then, you needed to let someone add a little color.

He smiled before pulling her by the neck and placing several kisses on her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against her lips, and she laughed lightly.

“I love you too, my player.” She ran her hands down his torso, stopping at the bottom of his belly.

He pulled her into another kiss, this time slower and wetter. His tongue entwined with hers, in a beautiful fight for space and a desire to explore every corner.

Their lips parted and they laughed, pressing their foreheads together, just standing there enjoying each other's breathing.

Your like is important and helps me a lot. Don't be a ghost reader!

#barcelonafanfic #hector fort x reader #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x reader #pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsi x femeni!reader #pau cubarsí x reader #universefcb #football imagine #hector fort x y/n #hector fort imagine #hector x reader #hector fort #hector fort x barca!femeni!reader #hector fort x you

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gold-onthe-inside · 21 hours ago

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pair programming - part ii

navigator

who? spencer reid (s3) x analyst!reader summary: what happens after your roommate and better half is shot on the doorstep of your building by her date. turns out, you're support network seems to have more nodes that you'd thought. content warnings: reference to guns + gunshot injury, surgery, blood word count: 2.1k a/n: realised after writing this that reader has more interactions with everyone on the team than she does with penelope oops

Spencer handed you a cup of tea, sitting down beside you in the hospital waiting room, the rest of the team milling around, waiting for news on Penelope’s surgery. You hadn’t said a word about what happened, the team relying on a police officer and a paramedic’s account while you sat there in catatonic shock, blood staining your white shirt, your hoodie doing more work in hiding it. You could still feel the blood on your hands, stained from pressing down on Penelope’s gunshot wound.

Spencer didn’t know what to do or say, just pressing the warm beverage into your hands, Emily and JJ murmuring in the corner.

“Has anyone told Morgan yet?”

“He isn’t answering the phone.”

“Is she?”

“Still in shock. Hasn’t said a word.”

“And Penelope?”

“All we know is a gunshot wound to the chest, and that they’re operating now.”

Spencer’s eyes are still on you, a shell of yourself, unable to reconcile the person he sees with the person he knows. He knows you deal with threats far greater than the ones they do — they’ve just come back from arresting a cannibal, you prevent military secrets getting out and uncover espionage attempts. But it’s from the safety of a digital interface, the day to day of it so mundane that it makes him want to pull his eyeballs out. Your job doesn’t get you shot. Technically, Penelope’s job shouldn’t have gotten her shot either.

No-one was paying attention to him, or to you, which is why he’s on his knees in front of you, aligning his gaze with yours, and does one of the few things he knows how to do; explaining. He put the tea down on the floor, taking hold of your hands, your eyes distant, your fingers cold. If he couldn’t do anything for Penelope, maybe there was something he could do for you.

“When the brain experiences trauma it has an affect on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system.” He said the words quietly, a distraction technique to bring your focus to something, even if it was nothing. “The physiological response is a fight or flight response. When your brain is unable to process the situation, it freezes in an effort to protect your mind and body. You might feel numb, or cry, or rage. You might just sit there, emotionally unable to move. You might dissociate, and feel like nothing around you is real, or that it‘s actually happening to someone else.” He squeezed your hands, hoping for a response. It felt like you weren’t even there.

“I can’t imagine how scared you must be, and I’m not going to try and tell you that everything will be okay, because it may not-,” and he hated saying the words, they felt like a lie in his mouth, but it was the truth “-but whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.”

“I can’t lose her,” you whispered. Thank god, Spencer thought as he looked at you again, and while he knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it all better, he also knew that the fact that you were finally verbal was probably a positive. You hadn’t said a word in hours.

“I know,” he said quietly. The team still milled around, waiting, the hospital buzzing with activity, but he felt like the words were just his and yours, the intimacy of the two of you cocooned away from the world.

"I don't..." You struggled to get the words out. "She's all I have." He watched as the tears welled in your eyes, watched as they fell down your cheeks. He wanted to reach out, to brush them away, and he hesitated, wondering what he possibly could do to comfort you.

Instead he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, a hug, and hoped that he wasn’t being too forward, and you crushed yourself against his chest, hugging him back. He ran a hand up and down your back as he held you to him, his cheek against the side of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know if he was apologising for Penelope’s injuries, or the fact that he couldn’t save her, or that he hadn’t been there, or because there was nothing he could do to make it better. He was just sorry.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to background check this guy?” you asked, offering Penelope your eyeliner as she finished curling her hair and she rolled her eyes.

“God, you sound like Derek,” she retorted spitefully and you frowned. It was unlike her to be say his name with such anger, when it was usually said with love, fondness, occasional lust, and just in an overall dreamy fashion. A part of you had always wondered if there was more to their relationship than just platonic friendship.

“Alright,” you replied, letting it go. Penelope was a grown woman, she could make her own decisions… and was also equally capable of running a background check as, if not more, thorough as you would have. You tried not to look at the mess that your shared bathroom had turned into, make-up supplied and jewellery scattered over the counter, leaving her to do her thing. “And I better not get a text saying you’re bringing him upstairs,” you called out as you leave.

“This is just wrong,” you murmured, looking at Penelope’s pale, all but lifeless body, tubes running from her nose and arms, wires strapped to her chest, the suite silent but for the steady beep of the heart monitor. You still hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed, willing yourself not to cry. You were not going to be one of those family members who couldn’t get a grip of themselves. You especially refused to become a blubbering mess in front of her co-workers.

“I know,” Spencer said softly, wanting to take your hand again, but holding himself back. He still never knew where he stood with you. Hell, he didn’t know how to process what was going on for him — the only thing he knew he had to do was stabilise you, never mind himself.

You finally manage to put one step in front of the other, going towards Penelope and Spencer could see your hand shaking as you gingerly took hers, the way you blinked back tears, almost refusing to breathe because you were convinced the only thing that would come out would be a sob. Spencer swallowed, moving to draw the curtains over the windows, closing the doors so it was only the three of you in the room, and kept his back turned as you finally gave in to the squeezing grip your lungs had on your heart, sinking into the chair as you cried, gripping the hand that wouldn’t squeeze back.

You started awake when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently, and it’s Aaron standing over you. “Sorry,” you mustered, wiping away dried tear tracks and he simply pulled up a chair beside you.

“I know it’s been a long night,” he said softly, leaning on his knees, looking at you kindly. “But we need your help.” He watches you nod, taking in a deep breath.

“Anything,” you said, a lot calmer now.

“We need to get some kind of identification on this guy,” Aaron told you, his voice measured and even and a part of you was jealous you couldn’t be as calm as he was, and partly angry that he could be this calm with Penelope this way.

“She said his name was Colby,” you said, remembering the joke you had made when she told you.

“Like the cheese?” you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically and she scoffed.

“Do not ruin this for me,” she retorted, pointing her laptop charger at you like a wand. “He’s cute and he actually likes me. Do you even remember the last time I’ve been asked out?”

“That doesn’t mean you should go out with anyone who asks,” you replied. “I mean, what kind of person doesn’t turn on auto-save?” It earns you a glare from her and you quieten, turning back to your book.

You shook your head, trying to focus on your screen, set up right beside Penelope, refusing to leave her side even as she slept, and neither did Derek or Spencer, the former practically breathing down your neck. You glanced up at Spencer, a plea in your eyes to get him off your back, and he makes a pitiful attempt of asking Derek if he wants to go get a coffee with him, which he denies and so Spencer shrugged, so you let out a breath, focusing on what you were doing.

“There’s nothing on a James Colby Baylor,” you said, sounding tired, running a hand through your hair, then settling it back on your keyboard.

“If he knew Penelope was FBI, then maybe he used a pseudonym,” Spencer offered, his hands in his pockets, standing across from you. “Try using the same combination of letters, JCB.”

“I’m gonna need more parameters than just three letters,” you retorted, looking up at him.

“Check anyone who rented a white sedan in the last 24 hours,” Derek said, still leaning over you and you desperately wanted to hit the both of them. Repeatedly. Instead, you check car rentals across the city matching the description, matching the restaurant that they had gone to, adding your facial recognition program to look for blonde men with blue eyes. “Plus some kind of job in the justice department. Try law enforcement, former military, stuff like that,” Derek added. “He knew enough to use legal terms, but not enough to know city attorneys don’t try criminal cases. Law school dropout, failed the bar exam—”

“Jason Clark Battle,” you told him, pulling up the picture of him and you swallowed. That was him. The guy you’d seen run away from the front of your building after you heard the gunshot. Your hands curled into fists, oblivious to Derek calling Aaron about it, charging out the door. Spencer didn’t particularly want to leave either of you, but he muttered a quick, ‘Be right back’ before disappearing.

You handed Derek a mug of coffee while Penelope slept in her own bed, the door left open in case she needed either of them. He’s set up on your couch, a blanket and pillows, his gun set on the coffee table, a single light left on so he can read the file. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asked you and you shrugged, taking a seat on the corner of the coffee table.

“He shot her on the doorstep, Morgan,” you said quietly. “If I hadn’t been at home…”

Morgan placed his hand on your knee, warm and comforting, and even though you had made fun of him being here, calling him Penelope’s ‘guard dog’, deep down, you were glad he was here. “There’s a lot that went wrong that night,” he said smoothly, his voice low. “Don’t eat at yourself worrying about how it could have been worse.”

You huffed a little. “You mean like you’ve been doing?” you asked, looking at him pointedly and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You sure you aren’t a profiler?” he asked, noticing the slight hint of a smile on your face as you shrug.

“I guess we’re both wired the same way,” you said, instead of the retort you had lined up in your head. “Protecting the people we care about, blaming ourselves when they get hurt.” You glanced at Penelope’s room, her open door. “She’s all I have, Morgan.” And maybe it’s the late night, the anxiety coursing through your body, the thing that makes it impossible to sleep, that starts in your head and works its way to your chest, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “She’s everything. My emergency contact, my medical proxy… Hell, if I died tomorrow, everything I own goes to her. She’s my family. If I lose her, I have no-one.”

Derek lets a beat pass, watching you, and you can tell he knows something you don’t, because he said, “You have people. Even if you can’t see them.” You frowned a little as he went back to his file, clearly unwilling to say more, and you’ve never been one to push into personal space. Instead, you go back to your room, left with his cryptic words.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x analyst!reader #analyst!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #penelope garcia #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #my fics

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