#Yeah he deserves to have mood swings

[mcytegg]

man can mapicc stream or smt i am like so close to crashing out for no reason LOL

[night-raven-tattler]

The pains of being human

Summary: You're dealing with period related misfortunes, and you feel vulnerable... mostly because you reached a point where you had to share your predicament with someone you trusted (?).

Characters: Deuce, Floyd, Lilia and GN!Reader (separate, vague)

Warnings: mentions of menstrual products, food, medicine; discussions of periods and related symptoms (such as: bleeding, cramps, nausea, mood swings.)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were in your dorm room, stuck in a real predicament: not stocking up on your menstrual products, and leaving the room to buy yourself some seemed too risky, fearing you might get a stain and embarass yourself in front of the whole school

It wasn't a very likely situation, but the anxiety was not worth it, so you relied the first person you were close enough with to help you out: Deuce

You shot him a simple text

"i am on my period, can you buy me some products? i'll pay you back when you get here"

and expected an awkward but supportive reply, since teenage boys and periods can be like oil and water sometimes or demons and cruxes...

But the text you received in return was... mildly surprising.

"yeah sure. pads? tampons?"

"what size do you need?"

"anything else you need? painkillers? something sweet?"

You even double checked the number to make sure you didn't text anyone else

He even knew about sizes! And he thought about painkillers! You were more and more touched with each message coming through

And, with the proper instructions, Deuce was on his way to Sam's

He was not embarassed for even a second: he was there on a mission, and he accomplished it successfully without any missteps

...Well, except of his little delay, caused by a pair of nosy boys, who received their proper threats from Deuce for interrupting his mission with their toxic masculinity

He knocked at your door, and for a second he was expecting his mother to open the door; after all, she was the only one he has ever bought these things for before you

You gratefully welcomed him in, waddling your way back to your bed as you inspected the bag he brought you

"Thank you, Deuce. You're a livesaver... How much did everything cost you?"

Deuce saw the tired look on your face, the heavy lids that indicated a lack of proper sleep, and he shook his head

"It's on me this time."

You scoffed, knowing Deuce was also on a budget; as much of a sweetheart and an honors student he was, Deuce deserved to be rewarded

"...I wanna think of a compromise, but my brain is too tired right now."

You groaned, closing your eyes as you rested them for a few seconds

Deuce shook his head at you again and clicked his tongue in fond exasperation

He wanted to be nice and offer you an out, but you were dead set on being nice to him...

"...A latte."

You opened your eyes, looking at Deuce in confusion

"I'm sorry?"

"I want a latte. One of those fancy ones from that café in town. When you're done with the, uh... bear week."

A small snort escaped you as you gave Deuce an amused look

"Bear week? Not shark week?"

Deuce's eyes widened slightly, and he looked away as his cheeks grew warmer

"...Mom never called it that. She always said that fighting a bear is more likely to happen than fighting a shark... and that it sounds cooler."

You nodded, feeling very inclined to agree with his mom, and decided to steal that phrase

You were very relieved to have someone as reliable as Deuce near you, and despite the fact that Deuce wasn't the most diligent person, he always made sure to carry one of your preffered products with him at all times

No matter what kind of teases he received from anyone for it, he knew he was showing a level of care not many would

And while helping you... he was helping himself

He was still dealing with the guilt of being so embarassed when his own mom sent him to buy pads; he couldn't help his mom with such a simple thing even after everything she's done

But he can be more careful this time... more appreciative

『••✎••』

The moment Floyd spotted you in the hallways was when things went downhill: Floyd didn't really bring sunshine and rainbows around with himself

By that point you were used to his shenanigans, but you still gave some interesting reactions

A gasp, a swat to his hand... but never tears

He wouldn't have yelled in your ear if he knew you'd burst into tears: he wasn't in the mood to deal with the aftermath

But he quickly put two and two together, seeing the way you were frozen on the spot, almost trying to pick between scolding him and saying something else

Unbeknownst to Floyd, you were simply trying to get back to your dorm after noticing a pretty sizeable stain on your pants from your period

And the anxiety from trying to go unnoticed put you on edge, making your reaction to Floyd so much worse

"...Please just get me out of here."

Your small plea came after a tense silence, in which Floyd was reading your expression with an almost uninterested look

But he still hoisted you over his shoulder without any hesitation, much to your embarassment

"Floyd...! Not like this, put me down!"

"Eh~? You're so hard to please, little discus!"

Floyd did not put you down, of course

It was causing a bit of a scene, so you decided that, in the end, you'll take whatever got you to your dorm room the fastest

"Alright, fine...! Just get me to my dorm then!"

"Boooring! Why can't we go somewhere more fun?"

Floyd complained while going in the direction of your dorm

"Because I'm not in the mood for fun, Floyd! I..."

Your cheeks turned red, realising you almost revealed something too personal

To your surprise, Floyd didn't point it out; he just pouted as he walked towards your dorm

You reached your dorm room soon thanks to Floyd's long legs, and you were able to change into fresh clothes, easing your anxiety and making you feel like crying from relief

Until you realised Floyd was still in your room, even after you told him you'd be having no fun together today

He looked you up and down, his face betraying his confusion

"Now can you tell me why you were smelling like blood? Did anyone do something? Do I get to deliver a revenge plan and squeeze some aquarium fish?"

Floyd's almost sadistic delivery did not phase you at all, and all you were thinking was that of course Floyd noticed

You had no other option but to explain

"I just... got a blood stain from my, uh... my period..."

Silence.

"...What do classes have to do with that?"

Your eyes widened as you came to a horrifying conclusion: Floyd couldn't know what period were, because he was a merman

You saw your short life flash before your eyes in horror at the prospect of having to explain periods to a teenager... when Floyd just burst into laughter

"Oh, you actually believe that! You are so funny!"

Much to your relief, Floyd's confusion was just a prank; he figured you had your period before you even said anything

He revealed that he took classes about humans, their customs and anatomy when he first decided to come on land

And he also dodged the pillows you threw at him with practiced ease

It was the last time you even talked about it: neither of you brough it up again, and you didn't know how to feel about it

On one hand, you were relieved, but on the other hand, you expected Floyd of all people to ask questions and be all annoying about it

But Floyd didn't really care about things like that

In fact, he found your periods hilarious: your mood swins in particular were funny, and he almost enjoyed making things that you could digest

And he would never admit it, but he felt proud when you seemed to feel a bit better after he helped you during your period

『••✎••』

Every once in a while, you found yourself being enveloped in a hug from behind from the old bat

He would either hand you a piece of homemade chocolate by him or some cute trinket he thought sould cheer you up

Lilia was a very cute individual, and he was surprisingly affectionate for someone who was definitely a teenager and not a retired war veteran attending highschool, so you never questioned it

...until you found Lilia wrapping his jacket around your torso gingerly from behind

"...There we go. Not too tight?"

His cute, softer voice vibrated through your back as he still was glued to you

"It's... not, but why did you..."

"Oh, haven't you heard? Jackets wrapped around waists are the latest fad! It's cool and chic!"

You didn't argue with him on it, especially after you tried to untie the jacket from your waist and were blocked by Lilia, who was still holding you from behind

The proximity was getting to you, and you felt your cheeks flushing, your knees growing a bit weak, your stomach doing flips-

Wait, no. That wasn't butterflies in your stomach, that was a sharp pain from... lower

As you put two and two together, Lilia started walking you down the hallway into a secluded classroom, his hand around your waist and making you two look as casual and unassuming as always

The moment Lilia closed the door of the abandoned classroom, you his your face in your hands from embarassment

"Oh, my god... This can't be happening to me..."

The tone in your voice betrayed how mortified you felt, but was glad that you had this realisation away from prying eyes

You didn't even realise the leak, since you were already using products, and it already felt like you leaked blood all the time...

Lilia only chucked at your realisation

"Khee hee... Someone was a bit caught off guard today, huh?"

Your pathetic whimper was the only answer Lilia received, and his eyes sparkled with mirth

He still brought out his magical pen and waved it gently in the air, muttering something under his breath

"Take that jacket off and turn around for me?"

You did as he instructed, but only because you felt more... dry, all of a sudden

Lilia hummed in delight as he saw the spot being gone, his spell working

"Good. No more damning evidence... Now all you gotta do is go on your merry way."

You sighed in relief and slipped onto an empty chair, letting the small rollercoaster of emotions settle down within you

Lilia was nothing short of a lifesaver, and he handled the situation with so much grace that it left you speechless

When you asked about it, he just laughed

"I'm no stranger to blood."

That was all he said... Not ominous at all /s

Still, you were very grateful at the way Lilia handled everything

Since then, he started being even more doting on you whenever you were in your period

He was almost... motherly in a way

And for some reason, the idea of Lilia as a parental figure didn't seem too far fetched...

He always was on the lookout for any other accidents and even tried talking you into trying the reusable alternatives for your products

What surprised no one was when he became even more eager to supplement you with nutritional food whenever you were low on energy

And so much more disappointed when your nausea made his food somehow even worse to be around

『••✎••』

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[shikiii-skadi]

How the Twisted Wonderland characters look at you:

INCLUDES: riddle rosehearts, deuce spade, azul ashengrotto, floyd leech, kalim al asim, jamil viper, rook hunt, epel felmier, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia, silver, sebek zigvolt

WARNINGS: reader is described as shorter than floyd, reader wears mascara in rooks part

NAVIGATION: Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

❤️Riddle Rosehearts❤️

Like you are the most beautiful rose in the garden - According to the rules, each rose at the unbirthday party had to be perfect. But even your imperfect sides made you beautiful. But that had to be against the rules, right?

❤️Deuce Spade❤️

Like he wants to make you proud of him - Deuce had made many mistakes during his delinquent days but he is more than determined to change and become an honor student. Every time you support him or help him archive his goal, he feels the overwhelming urge to make you proud of him. Which is why he puts even more effort into everything (which may or may not end badly).

💙Azul Ashengrotto💙

Like you are an easy target for his schemes - You were just a helpless and magicless human from another world. Who would have been better to manipulate in a contract, that was clearly more beneficial to the contractor than the client, than someone like you? But you weren't as naive as Azul thought you are and were able to somehow wiggle yourself out of every attempt of his to either make you sign a contract with him or be otherwise in debt to him. Seems like you are quite intelligent. He should definitely keep an eye on you. Of course, this has nothing to do with personal reasons.

💙Floyd Leech💙

Like you are a squeezable little shrimp - You were just so defenseless and small compared to Floyd, that he couldn't help but squeeze you incredibly tight every time he saw you. I mean, he has that urge with everyone he sees, but with you, it was extra strong. And you could do nothing but accept it if you didn't want to risk becoming the cause of one of his scary mood swings.

🧡Kalim Al-Asim🧡

Like you are a ray of sunshine - Whenever Kalim saw you, he was beaming with joy. You were just so much fun to be around. His everlasting cheerfulness was through the roof when you were around. Kalim has definitely impulsively purchased things for your entertainment, like a jet ski, so he can witness your laughs and smiles more often. (Jamil is crying in a corner)

🧡Jamil Viper🧡

Like he has his only rest when you are near - As vice houswarden of Scarabia and Kalim's attendant, Jamil rarely has even five minutes to relax. No, scratch that, he never actually had time off. But when you are there, he can finally get a well-deserved break. Scarabia could be on fire or Kalim could fall off his flying carpet in those few minutes with you, Jamil doesn't care. He will deal with it afterward.

💜Vil Schoenheit💜

Like he is the only one, who can make you reach your full potential - Vil could clearly see the beauty you possessed, even if it was diminished by your miserable living conditions and the little money Crowley gave you for clothes and beauty products. But fear not, that is where Vil steps in. He was sure that he was the only one capable of leading you to your utmost beauty.

💜Epel Felmier💜

Like you are his damsel in distress - I mean, yeah, sure realistically Epel knows that you don't need him to save you and that you aren't really a helpless damsel, but it makes him feel manly when you ask him to open a jar for you or get something from a higher shelf.

💜Rook Hunt💜

Like you are the embodiment of beauty - Rook enjoys to watch you in every situation of your life. You just come home having to run the entire way from the school building to Ramshackle Dorm with Grim in tow through the pouring rain, your clothes are completely soaked, your hair looks like a wet dog, and your mascara is running down your cheeks. Rook has never seen anything more beautiful.

💙Idia Shroud💙

Like you are a cute kitty - Idia is a cat lover. And he can't help thinking that you're just as cute as the fluffy feline creatures he loves so much. Not that he would ever say that out loud. The thought alone was enough to make his hair turn red. And a plus is that you don't run away when he approaches you.

💚Malleus Draconia💚

Like you are his only friend - Malleus was very lonely all his life until you ended up in Twisted Wonderland and made his favorite ruin your home. You were the only person who ever thought of inviting him, who didn't run away in fear or put him on a pedestal. Instead, you just treated him like a friend. And Malleus was sure to treasure that for all eternity.

💚Silver💚

Like you are his fairytale princess/prince - Among all the eccentric characters at Night Raven College, Silver was almost unnoticeable. Not that he was particularly bothered by that. But you always managed to make him feel special, even if he was just a mere knight (that's what Silver says at least). And when you jokingly tell him that he was like your knight in shining armor, that must mean that you are his princess/prince then, right?

💚Sebek Zigvolt💚

Like you aren't that bad for a human - Sebek wanted nothing to do with you. You weren't worth his attention because you were just a mere human. In addition, you have greatly upset him by having the audacity to call his great liege by a silly little nickname. Imagine how irritated Sebek is when he realizes that he thinks your company is actually quite nice. Maybe you're not that bad for a human. Not that he actually likes you, of course! No, he is definitely not blushing!

[onechicagolife]

buzzkill

summary: prompts 8, 69, and 94—in which you decompress at molly's

requested? yes by @hajrakhan

word count: 1077

warnings: none

want to be tagged? link in bio <3

The familiar hum of the bullpen settles around you like a well-worn soundtrack—keyboards clacking, papers shuffling, and the occasional dry sarcasm tossed across desks. For once, the day isn't ending in sirens and chaos. The case is closed, the reports are filed, and no one's bleeding.

You perch on Adam’s desk, legs swinging idly as you grin at the memory playing back in your mind. “I swear to God, this guy actually thought he could outrun me.”

Adam looks up from his computer, already half-laughing. “What, the dude with the weed?”

You nod, hands animated, “Panicked and tried running full speed in Crocs. Took two steps and ate it.”

“He deserves time just for that decision,” he says, chuckling.

Kevin leans back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “Wait—were they in sport mode, though?”

“Nope,” you snort at the image of the young guy face-planting.

Antonio lets out a low whistle. “Rookie mistake. But still doesn’t beat fence guy last summer. Got his pants caught mid-jump, boxers and all on display. High school girls can be brutal.”

“That was legendary,” Adam laughs. “I still think about that poor bastard whenever I pass a chain link.”

You’re mid-laugh, the kind that warms your whole chest, when it hits—that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Not danger. Not discomfort. Just… noticed. You glance across the bullpen and catch him instantly.

Jay. Leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest, that signature calm intensity written all over his face. His eyes are on you—have been, apparently—and he doesn’t look away when you meet his gaze. There’s something behind it. Something steady. Something that makes the room, for a heartbeat, feel quieter than it actually is.

Your smile softens. You slide off the desk, feet landing lightly on the tile, and cross the room toward him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, your voice low enough to keep the moment just between the two of you.

Jay blinks once, like he hadn’t realized he was staring. Then the corner of his mouth lifts, slow and easy, and he shrugs a lazy shoulder. “No reason.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “Uh huh.”

Before you can call him on it—on whatever that look was—Adam claps his hands, cutting through the mood quickly. “Alright, enough case talk. Molly’s?”

A round of agreement sweeps through the room like muscle memory. Jackets are shrugged on, phones are pocketed, and the familiar post-case ritual clicks into place.

Jay steps up beside you as the group heads out, his shoulder brushing yours in that unintentional-but-not-really kind of way. He doesn’t say anything. But that look?

Yeah, it never really leaves.

Molly’s is buzzing with the end-of-shift crowd. The scent of beer and fried food clings to the air, the low murmur of conversation rising and falling like waves around you. Laughter bursts from a table near the bar, and someone cues up a familiar song on the jukebox.

You’re tucked into a high-top with Hailey and Kim, the three of you leaning in close, drinks in hand, laughter flowing a little too easily. There’s a comfortable burn in your chest, a fuzzy warmth curling through your limbs.

Hailey narrows her eyes at you, grinning. “Alright, be honest—how many drinks have you had?”

You squint, holding up fingers that don’t want to stay still no matter how hard you focus. "Three?”

“More like five,” Kim snorts.

You gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. “Rude. I am offended by your lack of faith in my ability to pace myself.”

“Yeah, no,” Hailey bites back a laugh. “You’re drunk.” When Kim laughs and points an accusatory finger, Hailey arches an eyebrow at her. “So are you.”

You wave her off, giggling with Kim, and reach for your drink again—but a shadow falls over the table before you can take another sip.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

You glance up, already grinning. Jay’s there, arms crossed, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looks like he’s been watching for a while.

Kim leans in, stage-whispering, “Buzzkill incoming.”

“Jay,” you say sweetly, dragging out his name as you rest your chin in your palm. Your eyebrows draw together, face scrunching in mock-anger, “You’re always so serious.”

He sighs, dramatic in his own right, but he is fighting back a smile. “You’re about one drink away from me carrying you out of here.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“Is it?” he counters, eyebrow raised in that classic, skeptical Halstead way.

You open your mouth to argue, but as soon as you shift in your seat, the room gives a gentle spin. You blink slowly. Huh. Okay… maybe he has a point. “Fine,” you grumble, pushing your drink away.

Jay smirks, victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

You slide off the stool, swaying slightly. Before you even register it, his hand finds your arm, firm and grounding. His touch makes your heart trip in a different kind of way. You glance up at him, vision a little fuzzy around the edges, but his expression is clear as day. Focused. Amused. Warm. He helps you slip on your jacket, tries not to laugh as you struggle to put your arms through one at a time. You pout, lips pushed forward in mock betrayal. “Why do you hate me?”

Jay chuckles, “Actually, I love you.”

You frown like that makes less sense than the spinning bar, and when you stumble, he catches you with an easy laugh, his arms strong around your waist.

“In fact,” he says softly, green eyes sparkling down at you, “I don’t think I could love you any more than I already do.”

Your breath catches, heart pounding against your ribs. It shouldn’t still make you feel like this. He says he loves you all the time. But it does still feel like this—like it’s the first time. And it’s the best feeling in the world. A lopsided smile pulls at your lips, and you lift a hand, grabbing his chin. “You’re the best,” you gush, voice featherlight.

Jay exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Come on,” he grins, pulling you gently into his side. “Let’s get you home.” His hand settles against your lower back, warm and sure, guiding you toward the door as the night wraps around you both.

[lazysoulwriter]

hate to want you - harry styles.

requests are open! ♡

----

The party is already in full swing when you walk in, the bass thrumming through the floors like the heartbeat of the city itself. You’re not exactly in the mood for this—a crowded LA house party filled with people who think they’re more important than they actually are. But your best friend insisted, and now here you are, regretting every step that brought you to this moment.

And then you see him.

Harry Styles.

Leaning lazily against the marble countertop, sipping something dark from a crystal glass, looking like he owns the place. He probably does. His loose shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be infuriating, and his rings glint under the dim lights as he runs a hand through his stupidly perfect hair.

"You’re staring," your best friend whispers, barely hiding a smirk.

"Not staring," you mutter, dragging your gaze away. "Judging."

And you have every right to. Because the last time you met—if you could even call it that—he had been an absolute jerk.

It was a charity event. Fancy. Pretentious. And Harry, in all his rockstar glory, had made some offhanded, arrogant comment about how "this isn’t really your scene, is it?" Like you were some lost little girl who didn’t belong. You snapped back, obviously, because you weren’t about to let him talk down to you. But he just smirked, like your annoyance was some kind of entertainment for him.

So yeah. You’re not his biggest fan.

And just as you’re considering slipping out before he notices you—

"Well, well," a smooth, British drawl cuts through the air. "Look who decided to show up."

You turn, finding Harry standing in front of you, that smirk still annoyingly plastered on his face.

"Shame," you deadpan. "I was hoping to make it through the night without seeing your smug face."

His eyebrows shoot up in mock offense. "Ouch. That hurts, love."

"I doubt it."

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you in a way that feels too assessing. "You always this hostile, or is it just for me?"

"Only for people who deserve it."

Harry chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. "Y'know, I don’t get this reaction often."

"Shocking," you say, completely expressionless.

He grins. "You’re feisty."

"And you’re insufferable."

There’s a beat of silence. And then—he laughs. Not just a polite chuckle, but a real, full-bodied laugh like he wasn’t expecting you to actually fight back.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heel, heading toward the kitchen for a drink. You need one after that encounter. But before you can get too far, you hear him call after you—

"Y’know, love, the more you act like you hate me, the more I think you actually fancy me."

You don’t even grace that with a response.

Two hours later.

You’re having a great time—without him.

You found a group of people actually worth talking to, and for the last thirty minutes, you’ve been laughing and sipping your drink, fully invested in some ridiculous conversation about the worst tattoos everyone has ever seen.

That is, until you catch him watching you.

From across the room, Harry is leaning against a wall, arms crossed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he studies you. His usual cocky expression is nowhere to be found. Instead, he looks… annoyed?

Good.

You turn your back to him and keep talking. But the feeling of his gaze never leaves you.

Five minutes later, a shadow appears at your side.

"You’re ignoring me."

You sigh, not bothering to turn. "I thought you were smart enough to take a hint."

Harry moves closer, and suddenly, you can smell him—something warm and expensive and way too intoxicating.

"Didn’t know ignoring me meant flirting with that bloke over there," he mutters.

You blink. Then turn to him, eyebrows raised. "Oh my God," you whisper, like you just discovered something groundbreaking. "You’re jealous."

Harry scoffs, but the way his jaw clenches gives him away.

"Jealous of some random guy? Hardly," he says, but it isn’t convincing.

You smirk. "I think you are."

Harry huffs, dragging a hand down his face. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am. Happy?"

Your smirk grows. "Ecstatic."

And then, something unexpected happens.

Harry—the Harry Styles—takes a step closer, the air between you buzzing with something electric.

"Look," he sighs, voice lower now. "I was an arse when we met, yeah? I didn’t mean to be. I just—" He pauses, tilting his head as his gaze flickers over your face. "I didn’t think you’d be this much fun to piss off."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

A slow grin spreads across his lips. "I like winding you up. It’s fun. Dangerous, but fun."

You fold your arms, giving him a look. "So, what exactly do you want, Harry?"

His smirk fades, something else flickering in his eyes now—something heady, something that makes your stomach flip. He leans in, so close that his breath ghosts over your lips, and murmurs,

"Kiss you."

Your breath catches.

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid.

But he’s looking at you like you’re something he needs. And you should push him away, you really should—

Except you don’t.

You barely have time to process it before his lips crash into yours, the kiss hot and needy and so much better than it has any right to be. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way he groans against your mouth.

You hate him. You really, truly hate him.

But right now, with his lips on yours, you don’t care at all.

[harunayuuka2060]

*In the first years' gc*

Ace: Yo 😭 Has anyone seen that?

Epel: Yes 😭 I saw it too! 😭

Jack: Why are you using crying emoji?

Ace: Because

Ace: BECAUSE!

Jack: ...

Deuce: Shroud-senpai swung at Leona.

Jack: What?

Epel: It's true! 😭

Jack: ...

Jack: Idia-senpai?

Ace: YES!!!

Epel: YES!!!

Jack: Why? What happened?

Ace: We all know what kind of marriage Idia-senpai has with MC, right?

Epel: Leona-senpai tried to flirt with MC, and quote,

Epel: "Divorce Idia so I can marry you."

Ace: ASDFGHKSLAJSLALLA—And that's when Idia-senpai started swinging!

Jack: ...

Jack: Okay. Then it means Leona deserved what happened.

Ace: But could you imagine our shocked faces when we witnessed that?!

Epel: I never thought that Idia-senpai would be the protective type! 😭

Ace: That was so sweet, man! 😭

Jack: ...

Idia: *still in a bad mood*

MC: *massaging his hand (the one he used to punch Leona)*

MC: ...

MC: Idia—

Idia: I know. That was uncalled for.

MC: No. You felt disrespected. I would've reacted the same if I were in your shoes.

Idia: You? I doubt it.

MC: *smiles* I mean, I didn't expect it from you too.

Idia: ...

Idia: You wouldn't think I'm violent, right?

MC: No. *kisses his hand* *then smiles at him*

Idia: ...

Idia: *giggles*

MC: ???

Leona: Shit— My face still hurts.

Vil: You deserved it.

Leona: *frowns*

Riddle: I don't condone violence and misbehavior, but I would've done the same after you told MC that!

Leona: Yeah, yeah. I'm in the wrong.

Leona: I thought their marriage was a joke.

Kalim: Why? I think they're pretty serious.

Azul: Their vow is literally translated to "I will stay as long as you allow me to" and you think that is a joke?

Leona: Ah, great. I'm being nagged at.

*In the first years' gc*

Ortho: I have something to bless your day, guys! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

*Ortho sent two attachments.*

*Pictures of MC and Idia sleeping together and wearing matching pjs*

Ace: I've been blessed. 🙇

Epel: Thank you, Ortho! 🙇

Ortho: You're welcome! 😊

Jack: ...

Jack: Isn't that invasion of privacy?

Ortho: I was in the room with them.

Jack: That's not what I meant...

Ace: Shut up, Jack. Let us enjoy the NRC couple.

Deuce: No. You are just a fan of MC.

Ace: 🙄

Epel: 🤣

[redsrooftopprincess]

*comes skidding into your inbox with a pant*

Speak of the devil girl because I was literally stalking your blog just today with a thought that’s been bouncing around in my head for a bit about our favorite big boy Red and wanted to ask your thoughts about it when I saw that your asks were open! So here me out on this (and if this isn’t something you don’t feel comfortable no worries at ALL I’m just in a chatty mood and thought I’d swing my shot) but how do you think Raph would handle being in a relationship or being interested with someone who is demisexual? AKA someone who doesn’t feel sexual attraction until after a deep emotional connection? I know I know at first thought that wouldn’t make sense at all because like look at him…that man must be a late library book because he is FIIIIIIINE and the best/worst part? He knows it. Or at least, knows his body and is confident in it. I just think it would be so interesting for Raph to meet with someone who thinks like “hey yeah cool I can tell you work and you look great but like has anybody recently told you that your soul is beautiful?” Because Raph never really gets that chance to explore that emotional vulnerable side of himself? I know a lot of folks expound on these moments in sexual light and we all know how good those parts of the story can be *eyebrow wiggle* but I am curious on how Raph would handle exposing that part of himself and having to like work his way into more physical moments by first being emotional upfront with someone.

Again, ramblings of an insane person that you are MORE than free to do whatever you’d like. I just think you’re cool and I’m curious to see/ hear your thoughts on the matter if you’re up for sharing.

AnYhOo, you’re cool. You deserve good things and I hope all the good things you do come back to you this week. Kay love ya BYEEEEE!

When it comes to humans, I, myself am Demi (though, if Red ever shows up in the flesh, my partner knows where they stand), and many of us know the pain of "too late," well.

...

Demi

Raphaelxgn!Reader

No warnings

It was disappointing at first. Mike had introduced you at one of his parties. Raphael had only been to a few, and they had all been fun as hell. Honestly, being the center of attention in a large group of people and it's not a bad thing? Sign him the fuck up.

It did have it's drawbacks. It could be exhausting. He never thought he'd be sick of beautiful people fawning all over him, but some nights he didn't have it in him to "perform."

The second he walked in, the usual throng of enamoured humans flocked to him, and to his credit, he was prepared to do his best. He'd been in a low lately, and Mike had basically dragged him out in hope that it might keep him out of his own head for a while. Raph didn't want to disappoint him, but he *didn't* want to be there. He'd stay for an hour and then slip out once the party was in full swing, and Mike would be too busy hosting to notice.

But if Hamato Michaelangelo excels at anything, it's knowing people, and he knows his brothers better than anyone.

The adrenaline barely had time to hit his system as the crowd descended, before his brother had him by the elbow and was steering him through a crowd of disappointed whines toward the back of the club.

He patted Raph's shell, comfortingly, as they moved beyond the throngs of the thirsty, to a secluded booth in the back decked out in white, purple, black, and grey. You smile up at them from your gaming laptop as they approach, and Raphael is a little worried that his brother is trying to set him up with someone again.

"Hey Mike!" you chirp, as he pushes his brother into the booth, sitting beside him and trapping him inside. You raise an eyebrow.

"Big bro needs a breather," Mike says, Raphael gives him an annoyed look and you suppress a smile. "Raphael, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is Raphael."

You smile politely, "Pleased to meet you. I've heard wonderful things from your adoring fans!"

Raphael smirks, half chuckling, a little intimated. Out on the floor he had swagger and he could play the part, even if he wasn't entirely up to it. He could hide in the crowd. Pretend that he was like everyone else. He didn't have to do much to show off, people wanted him. Even those that weren't directly turned on were at least a little curious. But you're beautiful, alone, and while your not being rude or anything, you don't seem all that impressed. It was nice. And terrifying.

"Welp, I'm needed elsewhere," Mike says smoothly, sliding out of the booth. Raphael's head snaps to look at his brother. No. He wasn't just going to drop him here with this gorgeous person and leave. Mike shoots him a wink and disappears in a crowd of passing patrons.

It takes you a few minutes to get through the initial awkwardness of introduction, but after a while, Raph starts to relax and despite the low he's currently slogging through, he actually has a really good time. You're funny, and smart, and gorgeous, and you don't look at him like a piece of meat or a monster.

For the next few days he's quiet, contemplative. The day before another party he catches Mike in his room.

"Hey, you got a second?"

Mike pauses his third playthrough of Assassin's Creed 2 [aka, the best one, fight me] and looks up from his pillow pile, "Sure! Sup?"

"So, uh, you know Y/N?"

Mike raises a brow, "Yeah...?"

"Are they, uh," he clears his throat, fidgeting uncomfortably, "are they... seeing anybody?"

Mike sighs, looking at his brother almost apologetically, of course you're the first person he'd *actually* be interested in. "Dude, they're Demi."

Raphael looks confused.

Mike sighs, "Okay, crash course in the ace/aro spectrum. Most people hear ace and they think no sex ever. Which is only true for some people."

Raph looks more confused.

"Just, stay with me," Mike encourages, "asexuality and aromanticism is a spectrum like anything else. While yes, people that are totally ace don't really get turned on by anything, you also have grey ace, demi, and other fun combo ones where sex drive and romance isn't necessarily a 'no' it's more of an 'only under certain circumstances,' situation. Demisexuals can't get turned on until they're already really close with someone. Most people, you turn on their body and their heart will follow, Demi's are the opposite. The only thing that gets them going with someone is a strong emotional bond. Your heart has to turn them on before your body even has a chance. They pretty much wrote the book on friends to lovers."

"...oh, okay," Raph nods, before furrowing his brow, "so..."

"So," Mike continues, "if you want to pursue something with them, it'll take time for them to be anywhere near ready for a relationship. And a hookup is fully off the table."

Raph thanks his brother for the clarity, and thinks about that for a while. You're beautiful, and he had a lot of fun just hanging out with you, but realistically, if your going to end up close to and attracted to anyone, it's probably not going to be him. Which was disappointing, sure, but you were still an awesome person, and he was pretty new to this whole "making friends," thing. He decides that even if nothing more was ever going to happen, your still more than worth hanging out with, as long as you feel the same about him. He doesn't need you to like him back as long as you like having him around.

And thus began, honestly, the best friendship either of you have ever had. Without the stress of "do we like each other" on the table, the two of you could just be together. You talked about anything and everything under the sun, and he told you things he would never, could never, tell anyone else.

You were the best wingman anyone could ever ask for, and were able to get him more than a few dates with beautiful, interesting, and fun people. For over a year, you were the closest of friends. It actually ended more than one relationship when Raph's potential partner couldn't handle the fact that you were basically a packaged deal.

Not long after your one year "anniversary," he noticed some changes. The last few people you tried to set him up with, you didn't seem as enthusiastic about. You're usually all about helping him get a date, but lately you've seemed almost... upset?

You tried to hide it. But as time went on, watching him leave the party with someone else was becoming more and more difficult. It took you a few weeks, but when you finally figured it out it hit you like a train.

It happened the third time you watched him leave a party with Sarah. Hand at her lower back, holding open the door like a gentleman, he caught your eye on the way out and you tried your best to make your smile look genuine before hiding behind the glass you'd raised in his direction. He noticed and gave you a quizzical look as you quickly buried your face in your glass, before Sarah called him away and the fire exit door closed.

You'd drained your glass and left right after.

The last time you developed feelings for someone it was a good friend of several years. They began the friendship wanting you, and tried for a long time before giving up. Once they did and you finally had the freedom to get close, you developed feelings, and they accused you of playing games. It ruined your friendship completely. This was before you knew what Demisexuality was, but knowledge is a pretty useless power when you're the only one who gets it.

Mike had let slip over daiquiris one night that you were the first person Raphael ever showed any actual interest in. Until he learned that you were Demi. And of course he didn't push, he probably didn't think there was any way you could ever want him. Despite his swagger he really doesn't think all that much of himself, even less so back then.

But that was a year ago, and while his own insecurities haven't exactly gone away, he's definitely becoming more confident. Sarah is gorgeous, the type of woman he'd never have considered approaching when you met. And you really like her. If you didn't you wouldn't have set them up in the first place.

So you're going to keep your mouth shut where it's safest for you, and everyone else involved. Raphael is the best thing that ever happened to you. You can't lose him.

You've started distancing yourself, hoping some space might help things go back to some kind of normal. You just need time to breathe, to take a step back and collect yourself and pretend like it doesn't kill you that now he's on his sixth date with Sarah and things are going really really well. Why can't you just be happy for your friend?

Eventually, one night, you just don't go. He would be spending all night with her, so it's not like you'd be missed. You would honestly be surprised if he noticed your absence at all. And you aren't bitter, honestly. And you aren't mad at him, how could you be? It just seems a little unfair that you could never feel anything until it was too late.

Surprisingly, he texted you near sunrise,

Red: [Missed you tonight. You okay?]

Y/N:

Y/N: [Yeah, work was just really hard today.]

Red: ...

Red: ...

Red:

Red: ...

Red:

Red:

Red: [Okay.]

You don't work on Wednesdays, but you're pretty sure he doesn't know that. You hope that will be the end of it. He won't press. What you aren't expecting is a certain orange-clad ninja in a seafoam jacket tapping at your window the following night.

"Hey, Mike," you say curiously, opening the window so he can move inside, "what's up?"

"Hey," he says, fixing his lapels, "Raph said your probably not coming to the party tonight. Aaaaaaand that you're lying to him." He gives you a genuine look, "So, what's up, buttercup?"

You know your not getting out of this. He gives you a look that says he already knows, he's just waiting for you to say it. Raph says he gets that from their dad.

Your cheeks burn and you look down and away. He dips his head to recapture your gaze. "The real reason you bailed wouldn't have anything to do with a certain reptile in red and the pretty blond bombshell hanging off his arm... would it?"

You sigh heavily and close your eyes, before turning, and walking over to the couch, "It doesn't matter. It's too late," you sit heavily, defeated. "It's always too late," you mutter to yourself.

"Wow," Mike says, watching you, a small smile working the corner of his mouth, "you know, in all the time I've known you I think this is the first time I've ever seen you actually into anyone."

"Not that it matters," you snap back, gently, the smile annoys you a little, "he's got Sarah. And they're really good together. And I'd be some kind of asshole to say anything at this point. And you don't say anything either," you demand, pointing at him, "He's happy. I'm not going to fuck that up for him."

Begrudgingly, he acquiesces, and not long after unsuccessfully trying one last time to convince you to go to the party, Mike makes his way out, and you put on a movie and curl up on the couch to distract yourself.

A little after two, you hear a quiet tapping on the window before the unmistakable sound of it sliding open in the casement, and a familiar soft landing on carpet.

You stand as he slides the window shut, "I thought you were with Sarah tonight. Everything okay?"

He turns to face you... and you know.

"Fucker ran his mouth," you laugh sardonically, shaking your head. "We don't have to talk about this, " you say, turning around to walk, somewhere, anywhere else.

"Yeah, I think we do," he argues. You stop walking with a sigh.

"Raph, please. Just go back to the party. Back to Sarah, have a-"

"Can't."

You turn and give him a quizzical look. "Wha- Why not?"

"We broke up." He says simply.

Your stomach drops, "You didn't break up with her because of- Raph, that's-"

"Relax," he says, holding up a hand and moving slowly toward you, "I didn't have to. She saw Mike and I talking, and she knew the score. Said to tell you, 'no hard feelings.'"

"But, I-"

He takes your hand before his eyes meet yours once again.

"But, I was too late..." You say softly, confused.

He can't help the smile that blooms across his features, "Not for me," he raises your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, "Never for me." He looks at you, earnestly, and you can see the trepidation in his eyes. In the last year, the guy has developed one hell of a game, but you know the heart of him. He can't hide from you, and when you look at him, you see everything. He's terrified it isn't real. That he's getting his hopes up. That all that he is isn't enough.

And you want to tell him that he is. You really, really do. That he's more than enough. That he's so damn beautiful there was no way for you *not* to fall deeper the deeper you came to know him. But you don't. Not yet.

You just kiss him.

...

Tag list!

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15

[suguru-getos]

Genshin Impact characters and how they comfort you (F!Reader):

A/N: It's been a while lovelies :P since yours truly touched Genshin Impact. In all honesty, the game remains to be my comfort game & the characters give me so much joy. Here's me, word-vomiting about them blorbos. ;)

Characters included: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Ayato

Neuvillette:

The only reason he hasn't cried (yet) is because he is thinking hard on what to do when you're blue. Would probably suggest that you and him go together for a walk! Hey! Don't judge him - a walk fixes everything. Besides, someone who hasn't had a romantic interest in centuries really needs to learn a thing or two. He doesn't mind writing an official application about his absence and walking along the streets of Fontaine with you. He knows the Melusine village brings you a lot of comfort so it's also his go-to place whenever he's feeling down. He tried making you taste different kinds of waters - yep, didn't end well for the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. However, lessons are to be learnt and he learnt them well! Now, he has realized that mostly, your sadness can be satiated with something delectable to soothe your tongue. He started with soup, well? Naturally.. though that didn't end well either. He now has realized what he might like, you might/might not. So, he takes the more aware turn & takes you to places you like, or sometimes doesn't do anything. Happily wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead and doesn't say anything. Silence and hugs? Best! He's noticed you like that far better.

Ayato:

The Yashiro Commissioner is a cocky fellow, and sometimes a tad too overconfident. He thinks he knows you inside out; that's not something he refers from you though. He thinks it's because no one can ever love you more than Kamisato Ayato. (He is kinda right? Though what's worse is he is mostly correct about the things that you need.) Like - he knows when that period begins, and when the mood swings absolutely obliterate you; he knows some Fontainian chocolate, or Mousse will come to the rescue. Some dangos might also help. The Kamisato Estate staff is trained to not fall pale to your needs. You & him both know that with all the travel opportunities you accompany Ayato in, you do have taste-buds which would be bored with Inazuman food alone. Whenever there is something bothering you personally, Ayato would ask you to vent it out. He firmly believes in annoying you with persistent cooing and crooning of, "Hey Princess, what's got that pretty face so long?" / "Oh come now, don't tell me you would hide things from your husband? I feel judged already. Do I not deserve to know?" You do end up telling him everything - and while Ayato is surprisingly good at giving advices… you always like how he asks first, if you want him to listen, or give his opinions.

Alhaitham:

The Scribe of Sumeru's Akademiya who is also your boyfriend - usually takes the overly analytical route, rationalizing everything. So you often don't tell him about the things that bother you. Since he is so observant and keen however, you can never really slide something that's got you down under the rug either. "You are behaving differently." Alhaitham commented, "Usually when you come home, from outside… you freshen up." He comments at the lack thereof, watching you squirm under his gaze. Of course, whenever you feel down your mind and body send you in a slump. "Oh- yeah, I'll get to that." You quickly comment, though you're cut off by his tender hold on your wrist. "Course you can, something wrong?" Now he knows the 'Female Anatomy', as he likes to call it. Often going out of his way to explain your hormonal cycle, what you should do when you are in your leutal, menstrual, ovulation phases etc. You don't have to say much in certain times as such. Though he acts like nothing's the matter when you do vent about let's say - something at work/Akademiya; there have been instances where he would pay personal visits to some people for pissing his girl off. Duality? Yep.

Wriothesley:

'His' Grace; is extremely kind to everyone, and fair. You being his significant other, get your own perks from time to time. For example: He is always available for tea for his little one. He is always available to listen to you whenever. He considers it fortunate enough that you are willing to live in the Fortress of Meropide with him - he knows it's the harshest decision especially from someone who hasn't done any crime whatsoever. There are days when even someone like Wriothesley (who seldom goes out) makes sure that he visits the world up above with you. Might take you to the Opera, might take you to those fabulous boutiques, anything and everything fashion the second he notices your eyes glim. Nope, none of that is tolerated here. The prisoners have started calling you 'Her Grace'; while you do not prefer it, Wriothesley does not mind, he is fine with you being treated like someone treasured. That would ensure that people around you would tend to you also, when you're down. Damn does this man love body massages, giving them to you and watching your shoulders slump. He needs to be so careful with you though. Can’t be too rough else his little baby would break… <3

[nameless-jamie]

Forgotten

Valentine's Day Special - Day 4 (1|2)

Glimpse into The Future series

A Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader (future)

Masterlist Valentine' Special

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Hello everyone my PC broke so now I have to post from my Ipad (like a proper Ipad kid) and so it took me a little longer to write all of the ff that I will post today!

Y/N was trying really hard not to be annoyed.

Eight months pregnant, still managing Jamie’s chaotic schedule (because if she doesn’t, who will?), and now, on top of it all, it’s Valentine’s Day.

And Jamie? Her fiancé, the man who is usually all about grand gestures, hasn’t even mentioned it. No flowers, no cheeky comments, not even a dumb heart-shaped chocolate from Tesco.

She had told herself, over and over again, that it was just Valentine’s Day. That it wasn’t a big deal. That Jamie had been busier than usual with training, the season was in full swing.

It was fine.

Except it wasn’t fine.

Because Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to forget any excuse to be romantic.

Their first official Valentine’s together, he had rented out her favorite café and covered it in fairy lights. Last year, he had taken her on a midnight boat ride on the Thames, complete with a ridiculous heart-shaped cake he had insisted on feeding her himself.

And this year?

Nothing.

Not even a mention of it.

She had been waiting all day for something—a knowing smirk, a teasing comment, even a dumb heart-shaped chocolate from Tesco that he grabbed last minute.

But when he had left for training that morning, all she had gotten was a peck on the cheek and a casual, “Don’t work too hard, yeah?”

And now, sitting on the couch, eight months pregnant and feeling more hormonal than ever, Y/N was fuming.

“He forgot, Keeley,” she huffed, her phone propped up on the coffee table as she Facetimed her best friend. “He left for training this morning, gave me a peck—a peck, Keeley!—on the cheek and said, ‘Don’t work too hard, yeah?’”

On screen, Keeley gasped dramatically, her eyes wide. “No way. Jamie? Your Jamie? The same Jamie who once wrote you a song on Valentine’s—and made the lads perform it in the locker room?”

“Exactly.” Y/N groaned, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. “It’s like… maybe he thinks now that we’re engaged and I’m carrying his child, he doesn’t have to try anymore. Maybe he thinks he’s already won me over, and now he can just—coast.”

Keeley winced. “Oof. Dangerous territory, babe.”

“Tell me about it,” Y/N muttered. “Like, okay, I get it. We’ve been together for years, and yeah, I’m not exactly in the mood for a grand romantic gesture right now—”

“Babe, you’re carrying an actual human. You deserve at least a grand romantic gesture.”

“Thank you! That’s what I’m saying!” She threw her hands up. “But at this point, I’d settle for anything. A little post-it note. A Tesco meal deal with a ‘Happy Valentine’s, love’ text.”

“Damn,” Keeley murmured. “He really hasn’t said anything?”

“Nope. Just texts about lunch, a meme about football, and a call asking where his lucky boots are. Oh, and not a single mention of the literal child I’m carrying, by the way.”

“Okay, that’s sus.” Keeley narrowed her eyes. “He’s either completely lost the plot or—”

“Or what?”

A slow smirk spread across Keeley’s face. “Or he’s fucking with you.”

Y/N frowned. “No way.”

“Babe. It’s Jamie.” Keeley raised an eyebrow. “He lives to wind people up. And he loves you way too much to actually forget Valentine’s. I bet you anything he’s planning something.”

Y/N hesitated. On one hand, Keeley had a point. Jamie did have a habit of winding her up just to see her reaction.

But still—he hadn’t even teased her about it.

“I dunno,” she muttered, sinking back into the couch. “I just feel… weird about it. Like, if he is planning something, why wouldn’t he drop any hints? And if he isn’t planning something… what does that mean?”

Keeley gave her a sympathetic look. “Look, babe. Either way, you’re getting answers soon. He’ll be home soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let him dig his own grave if he’s forgotten. And if he hasn’t?” Keeley smirked. “Then prepare to be very impressed.”

Y/N huffed. “I hate that you’re making me feel hopeful.”

Keeley grinned. “That’s what best friends are for.”

When Jamie finally got home, Y/N had prepared herself for disappointment.

She had convinced herself that she was overreacting. That it was just her hormones making everything worse. That it was fine if Jamie had actually forgotten.

But the moment he walked through the door, grinning like nothing was wrong,mall casual, and kisses her forehead like it’s just another day, she felt a fresh wave of irritation rise up.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before dropping his bag by the door. “Good day?”

Y/N stared at him. Was he serious?

“You forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie, the audacity, smirks. “Oh. Was that today?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “Jamie.”

“What?” He shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “Dunno, babe. Bit of a commercial holiday, innit?”

Her jaw clenched. “You are unbelievable.”

Jamie smirked again, completely unfazed. “C’mon, love. You’re tellin’ me you really care about all that lovey-dovey shit?”

Y/N’s nostrils flared. “Oh, you mean the ‘lovey-dovey shit’ that you have gone all out for every other year? The same lovey-dovey shit that you have always loved making a big deal out of?”

Jamie hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Dunno, babe. Maybe I’ve matured.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she snapped, shoving his chest. “I hate you.”

Jamie just chuckled, catching her hands and kissing her knuckles. “Nah, you don’t.”

She glared. “I swear to God, Jamie—”

And then—there was a knock at the door.

Jamie’s smirk grew even bigger if possible. “That for us, you think?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes as she waddles over to open it. And standing there was a private driver.

“For Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Tartt,” he said smoothly, nodding toward a sleek black car.

Y/N turned back to Jamie, glaring.

“You arse.” She smacked his arm. “You did this on purpose.”

Jamie grinned, completely unrepentant and kisses her hand. “Course I did. Had to see if you’d still marry me even if I was a dickhead.”

Y/N huffed. “You are so lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

The car takes them to a private rooftop restaurant Jamie rented just for them. Fairy lights. Candles. A cozy setup with blankets because he knows she gets cold easily. Her favorite foods. Mocktails. And in the center of the table—a scrapbook.

She flips it open, and inside are pictures of them from the very beginning.

— A polaroid of their first date, Jamie grinning like an idiot. — A ticket stub from the match where she stood up to Mr. Mannion. — A tiny note she once left in his gym bag, which he kept. — Ultrasound pictures, with a note: Can’t wait to meet you, little one. Your mum’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

“You’re a menace, Jamie.” she sniffled.

“Yeah, but I’m your menace.” Jamie just kissed her forehead. “Didn’t forget, love. Just wanted to mess with ya a bit.”

And when he knelt beside her, hands on her belly, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s Day, little one. Your dad’s a bit of a knob, but your mum? She’s the best,” Y/N decided that, yeah.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Jamie, you’re such a—”

But he cuts her off with a kiss, and just like that, all is forgiven.

Yup, she’d still marry him.

Even if he was a dickhead sometimes.

[barksenji]

I was going through a tough time, so here's some headcanons about Horror and Dust. I love them sm.

Dust Sans (Dusttale)

- His psychosis began long before his first kill, probably as a result of the stress and trauma from multiple resets. It was a major factor in his eventual decision to embrace the killings.

- He doesn’t actually "see ghosts"—his visions are hallucinations. Along with hallucinations, he also experiences delusions, disorganized thoughts, and speech patterns that can become erratic.

- He has a "masochistic" streak, though he keeps it hidden. Whether it stems from self-hatred or a way to feel something real is debatable.

- Despite everything, he's still Sans at his core. His humor and personality are still there, but his psychosis has distorted his perception of the world, warping his sense of morality and reality.

- His tendency to talk to “Papyrus” could be a coping mechanism as much as a symptom—he might be trying to rationalize his actions, seeking approval from a figure that no longer exists.

- He's probably schizoaffective or schizophrenic, though it can be debated whether or not he was at risk from the start. His depression and anhedonia could have been early signs, possibly prodromal symptoms. He is extremely paranoid of everyone in return, constantly terrified, disoriented, and confused.

Horror Sans (Horrortale)

- He has severe disordered eating, partly due to guilt. He doesn’t feel deserving of food, and despite his hardened exterior, self-loathing gnaws at him. Even if food was readily available, he would deliberately starve himself as a form of self punishment.

- He is deeply paranoid and distrustful of others—something that is already suggested (if not outright stated) in canon. His head trauma led to mood swings and erratic behavior, but combined with what he endured emotionally, he likely developed C-PTSD which worsened those symptoms.

- His head injury probably affected his impulse control, which may explain why he destroyed the Core. If his ability to regulate emotions and actions was impaired, moments of extreme frustration or distress could lead to catastrophic decisions. People with TBIs do tend to exhibit impulsivity and disinhibition. He probably wasn't able to fully think through the consequences of what he was about to do.

Again this is kind of technically canon, lol.

- Experiences sleep paralysis often.

- He still cares about Papyrus, but in a worn-out, fucked-up, hopeless way. Deep down, though, he doesn't even fully trust his brother. His paranoia has seeped into their relationship.

I love making these two interact because they're both incredibly paranoid and snappy, so. Hehe. Yeah.

[courtingchaos]

Was having thoughts earlier about surprising Eddie naked in his room with just his guitar covering you (a la Jenny in Forest Gump)

No but this could be so cute or super dirty but I’m in a big ol soft mood. (Also another ask I missed apparently! God damn!)

Fast and dirty (aka I didn’t read this back!)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Arranging yourself just so, trying to figure out how to drape yourself around it without flashing him a nipple since it’s such an angular body. He’s going to go crazy for it regardless but you have a vision in your mind for it and you want it just right.

You even tidied up his room for him, and that’s not something you’ve ever done, you just needed flat surfaces for the little glass votive candles you bought at the dollar store. Romance, but sexy romance. He’s been working so hard, you’re Eddie, ever since Wayne got him a job at the plant. He’s working seconds while his Uncle works thirds but it’s just as long and he deserves a little surprise.

You get to the trailer just as Wayne is leaving and he deftly avoids looking at your handful of plastic bags or the overnight one slung on your shoulder. It’s none of his business what happens when he’s out of the house between you two, just gives you smile while he holds the door open for you. Tells you to stay out of trouble. Tells you to not light the curtains on fire.

An hour, tops, before Eddie stomps into the trailer so you work fast and almost forget to strip when you sit on the bed with the guitar. A little bit of a foolish feeling like you’ve never been naked in this room before. Hell, Eddie even has a picture shoved in his wallet of you lying under his sweetheart. His ideal centerfold is what he’d said when you’d turned bashful.

You notice the time and turn off the lamp so you can perch on his bed in the candlelight. Again with that foolish feeling when he’s a few minutes behind and you sit in silence for just a little too long, almost long enough to turn around and look out the window except you can hear the storm door creak and the key turn in the lock. Anticipation as he goes through his routine of coming home; dropping his keys and his coat, kicking off his boots and throwing his overshirt directly into the washer.

“Hello?” He sing songs down the hallway while the fridge opens and closes, the tinkling of a bottle cap hitting the countertop making you curl your toes.

“Down here.”

He must notice the lack of light under his door so he opens it slowly. A tentative turn of the handle before he pushes it in with a light tap. His curls precede him when he tilts his head in and you can already see the smile curled into his cheeks. “Well this is romantic.”

“Yeah I can do that sometimes.”

Finally he takes a full step in while taking a sip of his beer but he stops all his movement when his eyes adjust in the disappearing sunlight and soft glow from your candles. The bottle pops away from his mouth and you giggle at his wide eyes roving over you. He keeps glancing down at your legs, crossed at the knee and bouncing slightly with your nerves. You try not to grip the guitar too tight but it’s a lifeline right now while he digests the scene in front of him.

“What’s this for?” He asks quietly, hands hanging at his sides, beer forgotten.

“Well, I thought you could teach me a few chords?”

“Teach you-!” His voice cracks in his surprise and he laughs quietly behind his hand he holds to his lips. “You want me to teach you a few chords while your…doing all this.”

“Unless you don’t want to.” There’s hesitation now because he seems to only be laughing and you’re not sure if thinks this is absurd after a long days work or if he’s finding the effort funny.

“No!” He starts finally. Jolts to put his beer down on the dresser and holds a hand up. “No this is perfect.” He pads over to the bed before toeing off his socks and kneeling next to you, a palm finding your cheek to cradle it. “This is gonna keep me totally focused.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah see,” he swings his other knee onto the bed and shuffles till he’s behind you, that palm sliding down off your cheek to brush back your hair over your shoulder, “I can hold your hands over the strings. Like this.” He hooks his chin on your shoulder and stares at the dark space between you and the body of his guitar. His hands cover yours and he lines them up finger for finger so he can pull your hand up and down the neck, slowly, suggestively. His juvenile humor makes you laugh but it also sets your belly afire with want.

“So what are you gonna teach me first, Mr. Munson?”

“Call me Eddie, please.”

“Okay Eddie. What chord?” You cheese at him, playing into his bit.

“I think you should start with a D chord.” For all his suppressed giggles and blushing cheeks he does press three fingers into yours for the right chord. “It’s a good one.”

“Feels like a stretch.” You turn your head to look at him still staring at your cleavage pressed into the red and black body.

“Yeah, but you’ll learn to like it.” He drags his gaze up to settle on your lips. “Here, stay like that.” He moves his hand off your on the frets so he can pull your hair back from your neck. “Then strum with this hand-ah, not so fast. Slower.”

“Jesus, Eddie.” You chuckle at him and his innuendos.

“What? You gotta go slow, baby.” The tip of his nose runs along your neck before his lips do, just a ghost of a touch while you gently bounce your hand on the strings. “See?” A firmer press of his lips now. He smells like coffee and metal, heat from under his layers that mixes with his waning cologne. He drops his other hand from yours to sneak it around your side so his fingertips graze the bottom swell of your breast. “You make her sound better than I ever did.” Mumbled into your skin and the space you’ve created while your head lolls to the side. A single note played softly over and over while he envelopes you slowly. One hand inching up further to palm at your chest, the other grasping and crawling over your thigh and seeking out the heat between them.

You stall for a moment when his fingers brush your mound but he clicks his tongue at you.

“If I’m distracting you, I can stop.”

“No!” A sharp hit of the strings while you get back into the monotony of it and Eddie’s fingers continue their journeys. He coaxes your knees apart before settling behind you and pulling you back into his chest. The guitar shifts and your chest is hit with cooler air but his palm covers one tit, rolling your hardening nipple under his calloused hand.

“Keep it up.” He pulls your knee up before letting his hand glide down your inner thigh and only coming to stop when he can dip a finger into your wet heat. Both of you gasp but you loose the thread of concentration and suddenly his touch is missing. “I’m serious.” His smile is evident in his voice, his mirth brimming at you being at his mercy. “Keep going and I’ll make it worth your while.” He helps you rearrange your fingers before he’s drawn back to your warmth, fingers gliding aimlessly through your folds while you try to keep your mind on the right path. The tip of his fingers flick up over your clit in small burst that stay just out of reach of any real pleasure. Nothing that will last or make your eyes roll but they make your leg jump with every brush against that bundle.

“I’ll have you playing Slayer by the end of the night if I keep this up.” He’s so casual behind you and all you can do is nod. Laugh through your nose and nuzzle the back of your head into his collarbone; slump down further into his fingers that are finding their purpose now. Gentle prodding at your entrance that you breathily encourage and Eddie joyously teases before dipping in and finally making your eyes roll back. The steady strum of the guitar sounds softer now but you couldn’t really care especially when his teeth find your earlobe. Heavy breathing in your ear while he works his fingers in and out, curled up to find that spot that makes you go taut with pleasure.

Your grip on the guitar is loosening, barely a sound coming from it now that he’s got you pinned under both hands. “Eddie I-“

“Don’t drop her.” A swift pinch of your nipple makes you yelp and hold it back up against your torso, if only for a moment before you turn to butter in his lap. “I’m cutting you some slack here, gorgeous.” He grinds the heel of his palm down against you and you try to roll your hips into his hand, a circle of delight that has you almost forgetting what this whole thing started as. There’s a catch when Eddie adjust to curl over your shoulder and every graze of his fingers along your insides makes your vision go white.

“Eddie, fuck!”

“Yeah?” It just drives him harder, those dimples a threat to your sanity when he starts abusing his newfound toy. “Right there?” He asks even though he knows just by the way you buckle against him. The hand at your chest holds you to him like a vice and he pushes you further towards the edge. One well placed wet kiss against your cheek and a heavy drag of his fingers and your tightrope snaps, plummets you off the face of the earth for a few silent moments while Eddie lets you ride off the aftershocks on his hand.

In your bliss you feel him pry your fingers off the neck of his guitar and he swings it away to lean it on the dresser. “You didn’t let her drop. Good job.” A kiss pressed to your sweaty forehead.

“I can listen.”

“Not very well. You stopped playing.” He pulls his undershirt over his head and starts working on his belt. “I don’t know if you got the full understanding of exactly how you should play a D chord.” His grin is salacious while you stretch out on his bed, waiting for him to finish his joke. “And while you might be my favorite student, you need to learn some better studying habits.” He points a mocking finger in your direction.

“And how should I go about that?” You watch him stand and shed the remainder of his clothes. “You’re a terrible distraction Eddie.”

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, mischief in his eyes while he plays with the ends of your hair, a smile and a laugh directly softly at you. “I think I have the perfect tool to help you.”

[smellslikechahnspirit]

I am in need for another chan taking care of you on ur period. But could it be a one-shot? And could it be husband!channie?

I hope you like it, its a bit short but hmm...If you want a part two let me know!

Annoyed 🤍

[Husband Channie taking care of you on your period]

Bang Chan x Reader

🤍 read guide lines in Masterlist!

THIS IS (OBVIOUSLY) ALL FICTION AND IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY! THIS IS MY PERCEPTION OF HOW I THINK SKZ WOULD BEHAVE IN SITUATIONS LIKE THIS AKA, NOT REAL.

[07:03 PM]

''So, what do you wanna eat for dinner tonight?'', you asked him. ''Hmm I think we still have some left-overs from yesterday, that'll be fine, right?'' You stayed quiet for a second. He looked at you as he was still folding the towels. ''Right baby?'', he asked. You nod. ''Yeah, sure whatever.''.

It pissed you off. You didn't really know why. Litterly anything else would've been better than having the same thing as yesterday. He noticed your change in behaviour but didn't comment on it.

You kept folding laundry together as you turned the tv up a bit. ''Oh this part is so sad. I love it though.'', you said. Toy story 3 was playing and it was the part where Andy gave his toys to Bonnie. You paused your folding for a second and sat down on the couch between all the clothes. Watching closely at the tv, as Andy drove away. You started tearing up.

Chris noticed and walked closer to you, petting you soflty on your back. ''It's just a movie babe, it's okay.'' He said as he comforted you. ''I know, but it's just so sad.'', you replied as you were now basically sobbing.

''Oh honey, why does it affect you so much all of a sudden?'' He hugged you tightly. ''I don't know!'' You said a little too irritated. ''I don't know why I'm crying so much. Sorry.'' ''Don't be sorry baby. You're feeling emotional, it's human.''.

Chris already knew something was up, and by the looks of it all, with even the comment about the food earlier, he knew exactly what time it was. Shark week had officially begun.

''Look, how about we order some pizza tonight hm? We can just order in and we can cuddle all night on the couch watching as many Disney movies as you want, Hm?'' You got confused. ''I thought you said left-overs was fine.'' ''Yeah, but when you're on your period, you deserve a little extra love. Even more than usual.''

''How did you know?'', you asked. He shrugged. You got a bit insecure and irritated by yourself, loosening yourself from his embrace. He knew you always got a bit defensive and independent on these days. You were married after all, and had lived together for a year, if not more.

Yet most of the time he'd be at work during these days, and he mostly send you sweet texts and only gave loving cuddles at night, since well, he just wasn't home. This vacation time he had gotten from the company was fun, but also new. You were together so much more now and on these kinda days, you just weren't used to it.

''I'm fine. We can just eat the left-overs.'' You said as you wiped your tears away and took on a strong attitude. ''Hm, are you sure? I kinda want pizza.'' Your mood swings were all over the place and you got annoyed now.

''Well you could go eat pizza by yourself then.'', you said. You were done with your half of the laundry and put it in the basket. You sighed and wanted to walk away, to put it in the right closet, when suddenly he grabbed your waist.

He fell down on the couch with you still in his embrace. He started tickling you soflty and you started giggling. Pretending to still be a little annoyed but he didn't budge.

''Chris!'', you yelled. ''No, I'm not letting you go, nope, not happening.'' ''Chris, hahaha, stoooop, I'm serious.'' ''Nope, not until you agree we should just eat pizza, and you will let me take care of you for once.''

You stopped giggling and looked at him lovingly. He had slowly stopped the tickles and looked at you too. Eyes inches from each other, he gave you a soft kiss. ''Please baby, let me take care of you. I know you act like you can handle it all on your own, and trust me I know you can. But I want to pamper you. You deserve it, especially now.''

Whenever Chris did have time, he'd always do small romantic things either way. You loved that about him. So less time, so much effort. Always.

''Alright we can order pizza...''. He smiled and hugged you tighter. ''And maybe a hot bath? It'll help with the cramps, right? We could eat the pizza in the bath too? Oooh, and even better, how about we take my laptop and we can watch a movie. All at the same time? Does that sound good?''. You loved his maximum effort and your mood had switched to nothing else but love and admiration.

''Yes, that actually sounds really nice baby.'' He kissed you again. Both of you had a very calming and relaxing night.

...Masterlist...

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© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[zeskyzed]

Rafayel with an S/O who has PMDD

Hi guys this is the first work I'm posting here! It's self indulgent and I'm hoping this brings comfort to others as well <3

Warnings: afab reader, tw for depression/suicidal thoughts

- Since he's a lemurian, I feel like he wouldn't have any prior knowledge about a condition like this. He already had limited knowledge about periods since they're a human thing so I think if you have PMDD he'd be pretty confused at first. You'd definitely have to explain it to him, but he'd understand quickly.

- His face drops when you start listing all the symptoms.

"Back-aches, fatigue, nausea, chest pain, cramps, dizziness-"

You were nowhere near done listing them but the words on your tongue died when you saw the color drain from his face.

"You deal with this every month....?" He finally says, tone laced with concern.

"Yeah, for 1-2 weeks." You say casually, and he looks even more concerned.

"Human bodies are so stupid..."

"Tell me about it."

- After understanding the types of symptoms you experience (since everyone experiences different combinations of symptoms), he works with you to figure out what's the best way to take care of you during that time of month.

- Rafayel is known to be the type of person to play into banter, or even make some playfully rude remarks sometimes. However, he rids himself of that persona to show you his unfiltered caring side.

- If you have work and your fatigue is too much to the point where you can't wake up, or need to spend most of the day sleeping, he'll make sure to call out sick for you. He'd even pay you for the amount of hours of work you missed, just because he feels bad that you have to skip work for something uncontrollable.

When you wake up and see the money transferred to your account, you ask, "Rafayel, why'd you send me money while I was sleeping?"

"Um obviously because it's a shame that my cutie can't work because her body hates her! Your hard work for today was fighting sleep instead of wanderers so you deserve it." He smiles at you, caressing your cheek lovingly.

- If you have back-aches or any kind of body-aches he's got you covered. His hands aren't only good for painting after all, they're good for massaging too it seems. He'd use his evol to warm up his hands, before massaging your tense muscles, hoping to alleviate some of your pain.

- If you get boob pain/chest pain, he'd want to offer to help you, but get embarrassed about it. Only when he sees you stumbling around and holding your chest because they hurt everytime you move does he stop being embarrassed. He doesn't even see it as something suggestive anymore, because of the pain you're in.

- If you have nausea and/or dizziness he would remind you to sit down and to stay hydrated. Depending on how bad it was, he would even make you lie down, but not for too long in case lying down made it worse.

- When cramps get bad, he's doing the same thing he did for your body-aches, warming up his hands and rubbing your lower abdomen.

- When the insane mood swings hit, you guys might clash at first because he tends to be moody as well. However, along with seeing how much pain you're in, he prioritizes your feelings over his own.

- If you're ever feeling insecure for any reason he will be a living confirmation of how beautiful and loved you are. You're his muse and he'll remind you of that time and time again. Whether it's a quick sketch of your face or a full on painting of all the features he's loved for so long. Whether it's poetic words, or the simple feeling of his hands caressing your hair. He loves you regardless of what you think you look like, because he's there to remind you of the beauty he sees.

-If you're ever dealing with the depression and suicidal aspect of PMDD, just know he's there to support you all the way. He'll call in sick for you at work if you can't get out of bed, and helps you to do certain tasks to get through the day. He prepares your favorite meals in an attempt to make you smile, and tries his best to make you smile with his jokes instead. He doesn't want to leave you alone with your thoughts and if you let him, he makes sure to stay with you for as long as you need him to.

A/N: This is not that well written but I hope you still enjoyed <3 Requests are open!

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 54

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

You sit down in front of him, Jer-Joel looks confused at first but then seems to accept it as he sits down as well, you don't give him the chance to say a word though, you are going to have your turn before he does.

"Ok ok, I'll start with my first question-"

"Wait, who said you could start first?!?"

"I did! And since I outrank you-"

"Fine! Fucking...whatever"

Now! For the first question... You don't actually have anything prepared. Should have thought about that huh.

"Ok... let's see...hmmmm"

"You didn't even have anything ready????"

"Shhh! I'm thinking..." Seriously, the nerve of some people... He narrows his eyes at you but shut ups... For about three or four seconds.

"You are so weird Xelqua."

"Huh uh, tell me something I don't know... Ok, got it!"

He puts his head in his hands and groans... already exasperated? You have just gotten started.

"Just ... ask the question."

"Ok, ok, why become a hero? Where did Altostratus come from?"

His frown disappears as It's replaced by a smug smirk. It's actually a one-eighty degree change, mood swings much?

"I don't see why you are so confused really. Why would a god as handsome and strong and tall as myself not become a hero if given the chance?"

... You definitely liked him more when he was annoyed, much more entertaining.

"So It's an arrogance thing?"

And there is the annoyance, immediately back not even a minute later, you are pretty proud of yourself for that.

"It's not, I'm also exceptionally humble."

"Huh uh."

"Oh you don't get to speak mr. 'I outrank you'. "

...

You don't exactly have a valid comeback for that, he got you good. Huh... Right, better cover the blunder and change the subject least he notice his victory and mock you in turn!

"That wasn't a really good answer to my question Joel"

"Too bad, my turn, what the fuck did you do to time?"

Oh come on, does literally every god know about that?

"Decided to reverse it a bit, you know how it is."

He crosses his arms. "I don't."

"Well, one useless answer for one useless answer....Ok, ok, my time to ask the question. Why did you wait a week to speak to me?"

Joel looks away for a second and then back towards you... Uncertainty? That's... different from the others expressions you hace seen on his face today, It's extremely uncanny to look at.

"I was busy planning how to approach you, I remembered you being much... different in the past"

"Different?"

"Last time I saw you was millions of years ago, when you killed most species on earth with a meteor... I remembered you being much more threatening."

Oh? He was scared? How- wait, what does that mean? You are as threatening as you have always been! You are as strong as ever! More then ever even! It's like he's saying you have mellowed out and that's... You don't even know if he meant as a compliment or not but you got defensive.

"Hmm...my turn again"

Uh? Oh right, the questions, you got a bit distracted there.

"Yeah yeah, I'm listening, just god distracted a bit there! Oops."

"Where you the one who did the whole snail curse? On Las Nevadas."

"What? Me? ...yeah, one of my better cursed, how did you figure it out?"

"It was an hunch, plus a plague of toxic snails feels like something you would do."

Well, *this* one is definitely an insult from the way he says it but you are going to take it as a compliment instead.

"... My turn! What else have you been doing outside of being a mid hero?" You snort as the clouds go pitch black and thunder booms.

"A MID-" He exales loudly. "And for your your information I've also gotten married."

.

.

.

...Wait what? He what? That's new, you didn't know he had been seeing someone.

"Are you serious? Congrats I guess. Who's the lucky god slash goddess?"

"..." Wait, that face...

"It IS a god, right?"

"That counts as another question so you'll have to answer two of mine."

Ugh, why is he like this?.... Ok maybe you deserve it for making this so hard but still...not appreciated.

"Fine, who did you marry?"

"A mortal, she's called Lizzie...you might know her as Ocean Queen."

Ok, what is going on? He married a mortal? Why???

"But she's...mortal. You know she's going to do that one thing mortal do... you know...get old... die."

"I would prefer you didn't speak of my wife dying like that-"

"I'm just...why would you want to get attached to a mortal? That's just dumb."

"Glass is the house of they hypocrite Xelqua."

... What does that even- is that a mortal saying? Wait, you aren't an hypocrite...not right now at least.

"I'm no hypocrite Joel, I would never get attached to a mortal in such a way so..."

"Didn't you take a literal bullet for one? Revert one of the laws of the universe for him?"

"You-"

"And I'm sure that he's not the only mortal you got attached too, I saw Mother Spore at Las Nevadas last week, you were pretty protective of that villain too, Boogeyman was it?"

... It's...well, you did...but it's not the same...right? Oh no...you need to think. You get up.

"Well, that was fun! Time to go!"

"My questions-"

"Let's finish this another time! Good? Good! Bye!"

[smileypansy]

ask me again when you're sober / j.ww

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader (ft. bff hoshi)

synopsis: seventeen is away filming ttt when you have a very sweet phone call with your boyfriend, wonwoo. (and hoshi)

word count: 500~

a/n: short and sweet. that's it; ALSO requests are open if you wanna send me something <3

Wonwoo was pleasantly tipsy. Just buzzed enough to feel warm and fuzzy inside, but not drunk. Not drunk like some of his members were (Hoshi). Seventeen were filming the latest installment of their TTT series. They had spent the evening playing drinking games. The cameras had since been turned off and the members were enjoying their well-deserved time off. Some of the members were much drunker than the others. Wonwoo had opted to sip on a beer and just watch the chaos unfold. 

He was listening to BooSeokSoon belting out yet another Twice song on the karaoke machine when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out of his pocket and smiled when he saw who was calling.

“Hey, baby,” He said, low voice growling in your ear.

“Hey, you,” you say, unable to fight back the smile that your boyfriend always managed to put on your face. “I just wanted to call before I head to bed. Just to say good night. And I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Wonwoo says, chuckling. It has only been a few hours since he left. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“I know but I still miss you. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Go have fun.”

“I will. And-“

“WONWOO-YAH!” Hoshi had found Wonwoo’s quiet hideout. “Come sing with us!’

“Wow, I can tell how drunk he is through the phone,” you said, laughing.

“Y/N!” Hoshi finally noticed that Wonwoo was on the phone. And correctly assumed he was talking to you. There was a sound from the other end that sounded suspiciously like Hoshi stealing the phone out of Wonwoo’s hand. “Y/N! I’m having so much fun!”

“Yeah? I can tell,” you were laughing at Hoshi’s antics, like always. He is always so good at putting a smile on anyone’s face.

“You should’ve come. I think you would’ve had fun,” Hoshi said, suddenly somber. Drunk Hoshi and his mood swings.

“That’s sweet, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t. HEY MEMBERS!”

Oh god, you mumbled under your breath.

“All in favor of y/n coming on our next trip say ‘horanghae’!”

A chorus of 12 ‘horanghae’s came through your phone’s speakers. 

“That is the first and last time I’ll say that,” Woozi said.

“Then it’s settled. You are coming next time.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere while Hoshi was drunk out of his mind. But, you still smiled because the gesture was so sweet.

“You know what, invite me when you’re sober and I’ll think about it.”

“Deal!”

There was more shuffling from the other end of the phone.

“Monsta X! Monsta X!” Hoshi was now chanting from a distance.

The phone was finally back in Wonwoo’s hands.

“Sorry about that.” “It’s more than okay. I like being reminded that they actually like me.”

“Of course they do. You’re impossible not to like. Plus I like you and I have excellent taste,” Wonwoo said. That’s how you could tell he was drunker than usual. His flirt level got turned up way higher. You were glad he couldn’t see your blush through the phone.

“Okay, okay. I should go now. You go have fun. You deserve it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, just for the record, I also would like for you to come along next time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll think about it. Good night, Wonwoo.”

“Good night, love.”