#[ I'm personally leaning towards just quotes ]

[paperstarwriters]

Sorry for the light mode lmao

Anyways I was going to respond to this in a comment saying—and I quote "💕💕💕💕 Idk If I'd be able to actually write a fic from this but it really just scratches the good itch in my brain lmao like—" and then proceeded to basically write TWO small drabbles in the comments lmaooo

anyways it was getting too long for that so I'm just gonna put it into a reblog.

But like imagine you're running away from base—maybe it's to goof off or maybe it's to avoid all the trouble that's going on. Maybe you want to prove yourself capable, or maybe you got into an argument and stormed off believing no one would follow. Whatever the case, you've left the base, and Optimus took notice. He hunts you down, searching for you discretely in his alt-mode in your favorite populated areas, and transforming to get a better view in your favorite but less populated spots. He's doing this to protect you, he argues to himself, turning over every stone, nearly decimating entire buildings as he feverishly looks for you. You could be caught by Decepticons, you could be harassed by some lot of unsavory criminals, it was getting late—where were you???

The moment he finds you of course, he's running over to you, eager to see that you're okay, eager to make sure you're protected and safe. Eager to see you.

It doesn't stop the slight terror he imposes, when his head swivels to turn to you, blue lights gleaming as they've caught their target, and the thundering footsteps of someone approaching breaks your initial silence. Under the shadow, you can't tell if he's mad.

Under the shadow, you can't tell if that's a bad thing.

Oooooorrrr—

maybe this is you goofing off! One of many pictures taken after you had been trying to take a picture of the sunset, and curiously, Optimus peered into the frame, shadowed from the setting sun, but blue eyes still gleaming curiously as he tried to assess what you were doing. It makes him look like some sort of weird cryptid—like one of those shitty pictures of mothman, and all too eagerly you lean into the idea of it. After all, this wasn't tangible evidence of his face and existence in your possession, you could easily pass it off as a collection of weird cryptid sightings you've had should it ever put you or him in any danger, and if you had kiss-marks over the printed pictures, well hey, some people wanted to fuck mothman, why couldn't you simp for your own "freshly discovered" cryptid? So you take more pictures of him, revealing your master plan of pretending he's some janky silly creature of folklore, that few would take seriously just so you could have pictures of him on your person. He's confused but interested, and you vow to find and share stories of the modern folklore of the area, but he agrees to participate in your pictures, letting you snap a few pictures that teeter the line of creepy, and yet look nothing but pretty and adorable on his features.

As the sun sets further, you catch one picture where the dying light paints his face gold as he stares towards it, a beautiful contrast to his blue optics looking almost honey soft, in the orange-y light and for the first time you get a picture that shows his face, distorted only by the glowing light, but identifiable to a keen eye. All too suddenly, you're struck with the urge to find and collect many more pictures of him, to drag him out with you to enjoy the sunset, if only to see that face—that expression again.

And all too soon, the sun sets, and In the darkness of the growing night you can hardly see his silhouette against the surrounding darkness, just two twin spheres of blue, looking almost like some UFO in the sky through the pixelated screen of your camera. You still take the picture, you still giggle at the sight, but you make the mental note to figure out more ways to take and keep pictures of this ever stoic bot.

Optimus, on the other hand, is all to delighted at the attention you douse him in, in the delight you express at the ability to keep a picture of him for yourself. His fingers almost twitch at the urge to do the same, to have you captured in a picture so that he might have your likeness when ever you stray away from him. For work or to return home or whatever, something to ease the ache of your absence. For now though, engraving the image into his processor will be sufficient.

I touched grass a few weeks ago and while aggressively and illegally speeding through highways like Blurr (for legal reasons this is a joke), I snapped an ✨ aesthetic ✨ sunset pic. But the vibes were giving OG Bayverse, heavy 2007 vibes, like BIG TIME, so I edited Optimus in there cuz why the fuck not? 🌚

(Edit: some ppl said it looked creepy and I kinda see it now so I added eyes to make it creepier. I like it the creepiness, it’s a vibe wtf?)

[bloodsoakedurge]

Real quick, can I get y'all's opinion about something? Which one do you think looks better:

Option A:

❝Hello, this is a test for quotes.❞

Option B (Also, please let me know if you can't read this):

❝Hello, this is a test for quotes.❞

Updated Color, Lighter Red. Can change further if needed.

❝Hello, this is a test for quotes.❞

[makingqueerhistory]

do you have any older examples of people playing around with pronouns (gender neutral or otherwise) in a queer way? most stuff I'm finding on my own is all mid to late 20th century :')

I think I have the perfect story for you! That of Zinaida Gippius, here is a quote from their article:

"A Russian poet, their discussion of their own identity is held within the culture and understandings of the Russian language. This is particularly relevant in the Russian language's use of grammatical gender, which is something that the English language is unable to capture in any meaningful way. Within their poetry, Gippius made a point to switch back and forth between masculine and feminine gendering, leaning towards the masculine. In the study of their poetry, this has been demonstrated for English readers through coloured text, with one colour used to indicate when they are using feminine gendering and another for masculine."

It was an interesting article to write, as there was a legitimate reason to use he/him/his pronouns, she/her/hers, and they/them/theirs, so we used all three.

Here are some interesting quotes about gender from them:

"The bodily differences between an actual man and an actual woman are important, of course. The body here should be viewed as a sign of the predominance in a given human being of the [Female] or [Male] principle […] the body itself is not integrally reflective of the [Male] or [Female] principle and, second, the body does not determine personality."

"I do not desire exclusive femininity, just as I do not desire exclusive masculinity. Each time someone is insulted and dissatisfied within me; with women, my femininity is active, with men-my masculinity! In my thoughts, my desires, in my spirit-I am more a man; in my body-I am more a woman. Yet they are so fused together that I know not."

"Thus, in all the tangled threads of reality—in all its minutiae, errors, and nuances—one may uncover the selfsame effectual Principles [pure masculine and feminine]: separated and conjoinable, conjoined and separable."

[hoe4hotchner]

hi! could I request singer reader dating Aaron and the BAU doesn't KNOW but founds out after she drops her album/song about him (I'm thinking juno, bed chem by Sabrina etc).

Valkyrie | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x singer fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: No use of Y/N, but reader's stage name is Valkyrie in this, Fluff, relationship

The team had scattered across the bullpen, taking a rare break between interviews and paperwork. Penelope, however, was anything but quiet. She was vibrating with excitement as she stormed into the room, tablet in hand and an undeniable spark in her eyes.

“Okay, stop everything you’re doing,” she announced dramatically, catching everyone’s attention. “Have you heard this new album?”

Emily, sitting at her desk, glanced up with a smirk. “What album?”

She held up her tablet like it was a piece of holy scripture. “Valkyrie’s new album just dropped. I’m telling you, it is life-changing, soul-touching, cry-your-eyes-out amazing.”

You were Valkyrie - the pop sensation who had taken the world by storm over the last couple of months. Known for your breathtaking voice, and your way of writing lyrics that felt personal even to the audience, like you were pulling the words straight from your soul. What the team didn’t know was that Valkyrie, the woman with chart-topping hits, was Hotch’s girlfriend - and the subject of your latest songs? Well, that was him.

"Valkyrie? Isn’t she that singer you’ve been obsessed over lately?" Derek asked, teasing.

“First of all, it’s not an obsession; it’s an appreciation of an amazing artist. And second,” Garcia held her finger up for dramatic effect, “her new album, Into You, is… well, I’m not saying it’s about someone in her life, but these lyrics, guys… they’re personal.”

Spencer, ever the analyst, raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s about someone specific?”

“Oh, Spence,” Garcia sighed dramatically, tapping her tablet to pull up the lyrics. “Just listen to this - ‘Your steady presence holds me still when the world spins too fast. In your arms, I finally find my way home.’ Does that not sound like she’s writing about someone she loves?”

JJ tilted her head, intrigued. “It does sound pretty intimate.”

Derek grinned. “Sounds like someone’s in love.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I wonder who it’s about.”

Meanwhile, Hotch had been quietly observing the conversation from his office, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. The lyrics they were quoting were all too familiar to him. He’d heard them months ago when Valkyrie - well, you - had played the demo for him late one night, curled up together in his living room. You’d been nervous, watching him for a reaction as your voice filled the room. But there had been nothing but pride in his chest, knowing how deeply you felt for him.

"Hotch!" Derek’s voice called as he stepped out of his office. “You ever listen to this stuff?”

Hotch looked up, his calm mask firmly in place. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?” Garcia gasped, horrified at his indifference. “Aaron Hotchner, how can you be so nonchalant about THE Valkyrie?”

He merely raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral. “I’m aware of her work.”

Spencer, still analyzing, added, “There’s been a lot of speculation about who her songs are about. She’s private, so no one really knows who she’s dating.”

Derek chuckled. “She’s probably dating some regular guy, someone outside the spotlight.”

At that, Hotch couldn’t help but suppress a grin. He supposed, in a way, he was that regular guy - well, as regular as the head of the BAU could be.

Just then, Garcia pressed play on the song, and your voice flowed through the speakers, soft and intimate. It was the song you’d written just for him, though no one else knew that. The one that talked about finding calm in the chaos, about love that was steady and unwavering.

JJ’s brow furrowed as she listened closely, some of the lyrics sounding a little too familiar, her eyes drifting toward Hotch, catching the subtle change in his expression. “Wait… Hotch, you wouldn’t happen to know something about this, would you?”

The team went quiet as all eyes turned to him. Hotch met JJ’s gaze, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He debated for a moment how much he should reveal. You had both agreed to keep things quiet after all, your lives were public enough without everyone knowing about your relationship. But as he looked at his team, he realized it was time.

“I do,” Hotch finally said, his voice steady.

Garcia’s eyes went wide, her tablet nearly slipping from her hands. “WAIT… WHAT?”

Derek blinked in disbelief. “No way.”

“You and Valkyrie?” Emily asked her tone somewhere between astonishment and amusement.

Hotch’s small smile grew a little. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

The bullpen exploded into noise - questions, laughter, disbelief. Garcia was beside herself. “YOU’VE BEEN DATING VALKYRIE AND DIDN’T TELL US?”

Hotch shrugged slightly. “It wasn’t relevant to the job.”

Emily shook her head, grinning. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret.”

“Believe it,” Hotch replied, his tone light but still full of pride.

Penelope, still in shock, glanced at the tablet, then back at Hotch. “That song - this whole album - it’s about you, isn’t it?”

Hotch didn’t need to answer, but the look in his eyes was enough confirmation. Spencer, still processing, muttered, “Well, that certainly explains the lyrics.”

As the team bombarded him with questions, Hotch’s mind wandered back to you. Despite the craziness of your life in the public eye and his demanding career, you had found something rare and beautiful together. And now, it seemed, the secret was out - but somehow, he didn’t mind.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[pickingupmymercedes]

Of thorns and blooms - Lewis Hamilton

request: "Can I request a Journalist reader, who lewis has his eye on and she interviews him and smexy antics ensue after the gathering. She wears a light up floral crown which lewis finds so cute and when they they celebrate an anniversary, he gives her an actual crown." - @omgsuperstarg

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fashion Journalist! Reader!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: It took me sooo long to get the tone to this one right, but I hope it was worth the wait.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Y/n adjusted her dress for the hundredth time as she waited for the next person she would interview, the humidity in the air boiling them all in the enclosed paradise the famous steps of the MET. The buzz of the Gala was like a living entity. And tonight, she wasn't just a fashion journalist, she was a guest, courtesy of a hand-delivered invitation from Anna Wintour herself.

A small proud smile played on her lips. It had been a long road, from the early days working in college fashion blogs to the owner of her own digital media platform. She had conquered every step on the ladder the had envisaged for her career, and the MET Gala was the cherry on top.

Her gaze swept the red carpet, catching a flash of black that snagged on her breath. Lewis.

They'd met a few times before, most notably for his iconic Vanity Fair cover in 2022. Shot in pink, in none other than Valentino, it had been a bold choice, and she had made it justice in the interview. I was a peek into the soul of a man who rarely had let himself be seen that way. It was raw, honest, and had garnered her more praise than any piece she'd ever written.

On the human level there had also been something else, a connection beyond the professional aura, but it had remained just that – a spark.

Over the years, they'd stayed in loose contact. She would congratulate him on a good race, he would message whenever he read one of her articles, a selfie once, holding her printed fashion annual he'd found at an airport in Dubai.

It felt like a secret language, a shared appreciation in their vastly different worlds.

And that night, he looked…untouchable.

A vision in a custom Burberry creation. Although not far from the usual black, his overcoat was anything but ordinary, adorned with hand-embroidered floral motifs that shimmered under the camera flashes, the thorns in his necklace a powerful statement. Heritage and resilience.

As Lewis neared her corner of the press pen, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on her, a flicker shone within them. He diverted his path slightly, heading straight for her.

"Y/n!" he boomed, his voice surprisingly warm for someone who always tried to maintain his stoicism.

"Sir Lewis Hamilton" she replied, offering a professional smile. "Looking sharp."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "You clean up nice yourself, Voltaire."

"Voltaire?" she raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Your floral crown. You quoted Voltaire on gardens being the only art that imitated nature in your preview of the met" He gestured towards her head, where a crown of intricately woven white flowers sat, each petal tipped with tiny LED lights that cast a soft glow. "It looks incredible by the way."

Her smile widened. "Maria Grazia Chiuri and I had a blast designing this piece. We wanted to honor the history of the floral crown, worn for centuries, but with a modern twist."

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You always manage to find the hidden meaning, don't you?"

She met his gaze, the intensity surely not lost to her. "Fashion is all about meaning, Lewis. It's a language, a way to express ourselves." His gaze holding on to hers as she continued “Your statement in this Burberry. It's a powerful one”

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, but just as he was about to answer back a microphone was thrust in front of them. A reporter, eager to get a quote looking impatient.

"Mr. Hamilton," the reporter began, "your outfit is quite…unexpected. Can you tell us the inspiration behind it?"

Lewis straightened his shoulders, slipping back into his professional persona. He launched into a detailed explanation of the Burberry design, his voice smooth and practiced. Y/n listened, captivated by his words and by the way his gaze flickered back to her every few seconds, a silent promise of something.

When the interview ended, the reporter scurried away. Lewis turned back to her; his smile warm. "They only gave me a few minutes," he said with mock disappointment.

"Well," she teased, "perhaps you could tell me the "real" story later," she finished, mirroring his playful tone.

A slow grin spread across Lewis's face. "Perhaps" he replied winking, a gesture that would have sent a lesser woman reeling. "I’ll find you later." He gestured towards the throng of celebrities and socialites milling about.

As Y/n wandered into the museum, she navigated the wave of guests with small talks and greetings alike. Her platform had gained traction over the past months, and her presence was becoming increasingly sought-after. But tonight, the glamor felt secondary as the show stoppers stood behind glasses of exhibitions.

As she stood and admired one of Balmain’s first collections, a familiar figure caught her eye. Lewis, leaning casually against a pillar, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was alone, just observing her, a smile breaking across his face as he saw she had noticed him, he made his way towards her, his movements graceful.

"There you are," a low rumble in his chest. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Hardly," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "tell me about this secret language of fashion."

"Where do I even begin?" she laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. "Every stitch, every embellishment, every cut – it all tells a story. A story of who you are, where you come from and how you want to be perceived."

The conversation flowed easily, a back-and-forth about the art of fashion, their contrasting worlds, and the subtle messages woven into every outfit. Lewis, she discovered, was surprisingly well-versed in fashion history, his knowledge going beyond the surface. He spoke of iconic designers, groundbreaking trends, and the evolution of style through the ages, his voice filled with genuine passion as he recounted how he had learned so much from her own words.

"You know," Lewis said, his voice softer now, "you're not like anyone else I've ever met."

" This one is not gonna cut it" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

"Right…" he said, his gaze locking on hers. "But I meant it though. You look at the story behind people. That’s rare."

His words hit her like a sucker punch, laying bare a truth she hadn't dared to public admit. She had always craved for connection with people, and fashion, she had discovered, was her way to reach for those who held their stories and dreams in their eyes and heart.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, breaking the intense eye contact. "Perhaps you see the same," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned closer; his breath warm on her ear. "Tell me about your dreams, Y/n. What stories are you trying to tell?"

And then, when she couldn’t avoid his gaze on her anymore, when the silence of his question had almost drowned her, a booming voice cut through the air. "Lewis! There you are. We have to get going."

Lewis sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. "Right" he said, a touch of regret in his voice before he turned abruptly to Y/n, as if he had just decided to take a jump "I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Y/n raised an eyebrow. "A proposition? Do elaborate, Hamilton."

He leaned in again, close enough for his lips to brush against her ear. “Are you, by any chance, willing to pass on those other after parties and come to mine?”

Y/n seemed to be taken aback, but just like before, when she was about to answer him, he shot her a look “I’ll text you the details. I’d love to know your stories.”  And with a final lingering look at her, Lewis offered a charming smile. "Until later."

The afterparty held a low-key energy, a contrast to the frenzy of the Met. Y/n found herself at Lewis's expansive New York City apartment, surprised by the choice of venue. It wasn't the club she'd thought of, but a tastefully decorated space that felt more like a home than a celebrity crash pad.

Lewis had introduced her to a motley crew of people. Some of his friends, but mostly, a mix of young, up-and-coming designers, photographers Y/n knew by reputation, and even a couple of journalists she had came across an article or two. The air buzzed with conversations, a refreshing change from the interactions of the Met.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. Y/n found herself gravitating towards a corner where Lewis stood, deep in conversation with someone she remembered to have seen at some shooting before.

"That's Kelly," Lewis said, noticing Y/n's approach. "A design prodigy. Just landed a gig with Channel"

Kelly's smile widened as Lewis introduced them. "It's an honor to meet you, Y/n," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I've been a huge fan for a while now."

They chatted for a while, the struggles and triumphs of breaking into the fashion world. Looking at the young woman's vibrant energy, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the platform she'd created.

But as Kelly was whisked away by another group, a comfortable silence settled between Y/n and Lewis.

He gestured towards an empty stool beside him. "Mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y/n accepted the invitation, a playful glint in her eyes. "Only if you answer a question for me first."

"Shoot," he said, taking a swig from his drink.

"This isn't exactly the afterparty I expected," she said, gesturing to the relaxed setting. "Why here?"

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that made her feel inadequately naïve "Maybe this is the real me," he said. "The part that doesn't crave the constant spotlight."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conversational whisper. "I thought you'd like this kind of party. I like to distance myself from the buzz when I can"

Y/n nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "A safe space."

"Something like that," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.

"So," Lewis began, breaking the building tension "I’m still waiting to hear about your dreams"

And so, for some ungodly pull, at a rather uncomfortable stool, she opened up to a man she had never really expected to create any kind of connection. Maybe, exactly because she never so that coming, it felt so easy to tell him her most guarded hopes.

She spoke of her platform as a way to democratize fashion, to give a voice to those who felt unseen, unheard. She spoke of empowering individuals to express themselves through who they really were, regardless of social status or bank balance.

As Y/n talked, she noticed Lewis's eyes gleaming with genuine interest. He wasn't just listening politely, he interest genuine, his questions insightful and thought-provoking. And she wondered if it was really that unexpected to find this depth hidden beneath him.

"That's incredible" Lewis said, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re giving people the tools for them to tell their stories."

"Exactly" Y/n said, a sense of understanding as he smiled with her. "It's about self-expression, about telling the world who you are."

A thoughtful frown etched itself onto Lewis's face as she leaned into the counter. "You know," he said, pausing mid-sentence, "you're quite a puzzle, Y/n."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Me? A puzzle?”

"There's this incredible fire in you" he continued, his voice low and husky, "a passion for giving others a voice. But then there's this… " he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"What?" she scoffed playfully. "I always thought I such was an open book."

Lewis chuckled; a dark, sexy sound that surely didn’t go unnoticed. "You talk about empowering others, yet I get the feeling there's a whole story you haven't shared of where that desire comes from"

Their connection had been simmering throughout the night, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Now, with Lewis's gaze holding hers captive, it threatened to tip over.

The conversation around them seemed to fade away, swallowed by the growing awareness between them. Y/n felt his unspoken questions echoing in her mind, a challenge she couldn't ignore.

As the night wore on, the guests gradually dwindled. One by one, they bid farewell to Lewis, leaving him and Y/n alone amidst the empty bottles and scattered laughter.

Y/n found her gaze drawn to him again. He stood by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, his profile sharp and captivating. The urge to break the silence, to bridge the growing gap between them, became overwhelming.

She rose from the stool, her movements deliberate, and walked towards him. He turned, his surprise evident in his eyes.

"Everyone's gone, I should go" she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don’t. Please" he replied, his gaze still locked on hers. "I’d love if you could stay and"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Y/n cut him off, stopping just inches away from him. The air crackled with electricity, the unspoken desire a tangible force between them.

She glanced at the faint outline of his abdomen in the fabric of his Dior shirt, her fingers tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric. Then, in a bold move, she let her nails lightly scratch across his chest, sending a jolt of heat through him.

Lewis's breath hitched. He pulled her closer by her waist, his eyes burning into hers.

Their lips met in a heated kiss, a clash of urgency and teeth. Lewis's hands roamed freely over her back, his touch numbing her to the surroundings. He was hungry for all of her.

Y/n found herself caught in the current, her own desire rising to meet his. His lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

A dark part of her, a voice fueled by the intoxicating aura of him, entertained the idea of becoming just another name on his long list of conquests.

But then, as his hand reached for her thigh, a wave of clarity put an end to the haze. This wasn't a one-night stand she craved. This connection, potent and undeniable, deserved more.

Y/n broke the kiss, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "Lewis," she whispered, her voice husky.

He stared at her, confusion, concern and desire evident in his eyes.

"Dinner first," she said, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Then maybe we can explore this mystery you see in me."

A slow smile spread across Lewis's face, the heat in his eyes softening to amusement. "Dinner it is," he agreed, his voice raspy. "But consider this a warning. I don't give up easily."

Sunlight danced across the Aegean Sea, glowing through the large round window of the yacht's cabin. Y/n stood before the vanity, applying a final touch of lipstick, her reflection a picture of contentment.

Five years. Five years since that MET and Lewis's afterparty, a whirlwind that had swept them off their feet and turned their world upside down.

A soft knock at the door startled her. "Come in," she called out, her voice filled with a hint of anticipation.

The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside. He was a vision in his crisp white linens, his hair free from the braids.

But it was the velvety box in his hand that held her attention.

"There you are," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he walked towards her.

Y/n watched him through the mirror, her heart still skipping a beat whenever he was around. He stopped behind her, his warmth radiating through her back.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A little something for my favorite fashion journalist" he replied, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned close.

He opened the box, inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, lay a breathtaking piece of jewelry – a floral crown crafted from delicate diamonds. Each petal was meticulously designed, some adorned with tiny thorns, others bursting into bloom.

It was both graceful and powerful. And it wasn’t quite a necklace, nor quite a tiara. It was a piece of art.

"Lewis," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. "It's…incredible."

He took the crown from the box, his touch gentle as he held it up to the light. "Anne Wintour helped me design it," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "She said it reminded her of your outfit at the Met Gala, all those years ago."

Y/n held her breath as she looked at the jewelry. The floral crown, a memory of their initial spark, now reimagined with diamonds. The strength and beauty of their love that had blossomed despite adversity.

"The thorns," he said, her voice barely a whisper, "they represent the challenges we've faced, the distance, the different worlds..."

"And the flowers," he finished after clasping it to her neck, his voice husky with emotion, "represent our love, always blooming, even in the face of those challenges."

He adjust it to her skin, his touch gentle. "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread" he said, his gaze holding hers.

He cupped her hand in his, his eyes brimming with love. "Someone who wears her heart on her sleeve," he continued, his voice low and husky.

She turned and their lips met slowly, a lingering kiss that spoke volumes of their love and shared journey.

"Happy anniversary, Y/n," he whispered, pulling away but not letting go, his eyes shining brighter than any star.

"Happy anniversary, Lewis" she replied, the diamond floral piece catching the sunlight and reflecting a thousand tiny rainbows in their eyes.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[hangup119]

don't get the deal | h. taesan (TEASER)

being the shoulder to cry on is no easy task - especially not for han taesan, who has lived almost half of his life painfully smitten over someone he is confident would never, ever think of wanting him as more than just a friend. he wonders if he will ever get out of this so-called "friend zone," or maybe he just doesn't get the deal at all.

pairing. han taesan x fem. reader

genres + warnings. friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, one-sided pining, eventual happy ending, slight angst + profanity, taesan is bad at feelings, reader is even worse

playlist. don't get the deal by beabadoobee; but i like you by boy next door; somethin' stupid by frank sinatra; about a girl by nirvana; disasterology by pierce the veil; if i'm james dean, you're audrey hepburn by sleeping with sirens

expected word count. 7k-10k words | teaser word count. 1.3k words

author's note. hey goisss... ive had this in the drafts for so so long but for some reason i started working on it again and im nearing the end so hopefully this will be out very soon !!! dont quote me on that tho live laugh love user hangup119's work ethic <3 ALSO btw this teaser is like a flashback kinda thing but the real story actually takes place in their college days

@onedoornet | reblogs appreciated!

IT WAS HIGH SCHOOL WHEN YOU RUINED TAESAN'S LIFE FOREVER.

To be more specific, it was during your last year of high school when he realized that there was simply no way he was ever going to win you over. Not now, and certainly not ever.

Because here’s the thing: Taesan was not a bad-looking guy, he’s far from it, actually. In fact, he had enough business cards from agency recruiters that could fit a whole shoe box, so his looks clearly were never the problem here. Was it his personality, then? Probably not that, either. He was pretty chill most of the time, and he had never really acted up around anyone unless it truly called for it. He always made sure that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself around you, and there were never really incidents that could have painted him in a bad light in your eyes. He had decent grades, so he wasn’t stupid either, which was one of your major turn-offs. And he was sporty—he participated in the school’s soccer team, and he even had a bunch of fans giggling over him whenever he so much as passed them by while chasing after the ball, so his popularity was pretty decent too.

Was he simply not… your type? But that couldn’t be—you were always making heart eyes at Park Sunghoon who was two grades above, and he was told all the time that he was basically a lookalike of the guy! Not to mention you were always at Jung Sungchan’s games, cheering his name even when the guy was literally being benched. Taesan never got benched. He was the star player of his soccer team. You fawned over Park Wonbin when he performed at the school’s talent show, but Taesan could also sing and play the electric guitar just as well. You squealed over Lee Sohee because he was sooo cute! but Taesan knew how to get real fucking adorable, too! He practically had all of their qualities combined into one, and not once did you ever look back at him. 

And that’s when it hit him. 

It was prom that night, and he was off at the corner drinking from a cup of water instead of jumping along with the fray and bouncing up and down to some Drake song when his friend, Kim Leehan, approached him. 

“I’m not slow-dancing with you, Leehan,” he muttered, taking another sip of his bland water. “Piss off.”

Leehan raised his arms in response, smiling in a way that was just so Leehan-like of him. “Woah, woah, I get it. Someone pissed in your cup, or something? Literally and figuratively,” he laughed, leaning against the wall next to him. “Lighten up for once, ‘san. It’s your first and last prom, you know?” 

Taesan only grunted in return. 

“Look at you; so emo tonight,” Leehan said, defeated. He followed the other’s gaze towards the dance floor, where everyone is packed together like a can of sardines. “But you’re always so normal around Y/N.” 

Taesan paused.

Leehan laughed again. “Hm, maybe not?” 

Sometimes, it was both a blessing and a curse to be friends with someone like Kim Leehan. 

“Stop talking about things you already know,” Taesan murmured, chucking the water cup into the trash can a few meters away. He placed his hands inside his pockets, looking straight ahead amidst the dizzying lights and the dispersed crowd now that a slow song started playing.

“Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?” Leehan suggested, signaling towards the dance floor. 

“She’s literally holding hands with Yang Jungwon right now,” Taesan deadpanned. “Are you kidding me? How’d she get him of all people as her prom date?” 

Scoring the smartest and the most popular student in your school has got to be the biggest flex of your high school career. Taesan had almost no complaints except for the fact that Yang Jungwon was your date instead of—him! Any moment now and he’d be losing his mind. Actually, scratch that, he probably already was. 

Leehan hummed. 

“Do you think,” he began, slowly, darting his line of sight between you who’s giggling at something Yang Jungwon said, before turning back to Taesan, the angstiest kid he’s ever known. “That, maybe, if you had just asked her out to prom with you… then maybe she’d have said yes?” 

Finally, the gears inside Taesan’s head started to turn. Leehan smiled at the sight.

Taesan quickly scoffed. “No way,” he denied, crossing his arms. “Why would she go with me when she’s got Yang Jungwon as her date? It’d only happen in my dreams.” 

He figured it out anyway. It wasn’t because he wasn’t as handsome as Park Sunghoon, or as sporty as Jung Sungchan, or as musically talented as Park Wonbin (though he’d beg to differ), or as cute as Lee Sohee. Heck, it wasn’t even because he wasn’t as smart or as popular as Yang Jungwon. 

Maybe it was never because of those things that made you look at them instead of him. 

Maybe you were just never interested in him at all. 

And Taesan will have no other choice but to live with that fact forever. 

Leehan’s smile dropped, and he peeled himself away from the wall. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped for a second just to say: “You’re so—stubborn.” 

Taesan looked at him indignantly. “...What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Leehan shrugged, finally walking away. “You tell me, dude.” 

And then he was gone, rushing off to join the rest of their friends while Taesan stayed in the back, alone and miserable all because of his newfound epiphany. Though he supposed he was already miserable the moment you entered the venue with Yang Jungwon right beside you. 

It was a time of new beginnings for Taesan; a time to finally move on from you. 

Though, if only it was that easy.

Two weeks later, when you were working on a final project with him, you unexpectedly dropped the news that you and Jungwon have broken up. Because Jungwon was going to some Ivy League, and you were decidedly… not. You couldn’t handle the thought of being long-distance, so you decided to just cut things off with him since it can’t be helped, you know? And then you proceeded to laugh it off with that huge, idiotic smile of yours before continuing on with the project. Taesan didn’t know what was so funny.

Eventually, he had to share his water with you when you started sobbing hysterically inside of the library, hiccuping and all. 

He admittedly felt awful seeing you cry over Yang Jungwon, your high school boyfriend of probably only two months, but most importantly, he felt awful because of the relief that suddenly washed over him. 

…And what did that make Taesan?

So, really, maybe it was for the better that you would never look at Taesan the way he wished you would. That no matter how many times he has lent you an ear to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, you never bothered to stop for a moment and think that hey, maybe this guy likes me to some capacity, and maybe I should give him a chance. Because what kind of friend is he to feel relieved at the fact that you had gotten dumped by your boyfriend? That when your heart was broken, he could only rejoice at the fact that he now has a higher chance of getting with you once again even when it is so clear that he never once did? 

How could he sit next to you and think such thoughts? 

And yet, even when you keep jumping from one person to another, falling for someone, crying over another—Taesan will always be there for you when it all comes crashing down. A friend to cheer you on, to lift you up, to steady you—because that’s all he’ll ever be to you. 

Han Taesan was only seventeen years old when you ruined his life. 

And for what it is worth, he is still in love with you.

story by hangup119. do not steal.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Hi can u do one like should've stayed home but with Sam please and can u make it so they end up fighting about leaving and not wanting to leave and so the car ride home is silent leaving Colby feeling awkward until they get home then they make up after a little bit more arguing please please pleas thank u."

Warning: This one shot will get dark at parts and contain the reader being targeted by the spirits and some actions include; being touched, pushed, choked, scratched, spoken to, and other things some readers might find a bit creepy. There will also be mentions of murder and such at the place of exploration and other bad things some readers may be triggered by and there will be a short SMUT scene at the end.

I also kinda changed around the ending a little bit, hope you don't mind!

Word count: 8.1K

"What's up guys. It's Sam and Colby."

You stand off to the side, watching as they do their intro, "Today." Sam presses his hands together and leans in, "We are at the Agatha Asylum, or better known as the worst place to be sent if you were already having a bad day."

"It's said that people who had, or thought to have had any kind of mental illness were sent here for-" Colby puts air quotes, "-help.. and they were punished by being chained to walls, stuck in cages, beaten, and most even faced death."

"We are here today to see if we can get some answers as to why the person in charge, John Agatha, would do something like this." Sam glances over at you, "We also have with us a very special guest, y/n."

You walk over, standing in between Sam and Colby and hold your hand up, "I don't know why I'm here. I hate asylums."

"You volunteered to handcuff yourself to the wall, remember?" Colby jokes and looks at you. You raise your eyebrows, "The fuck I did."

"Anyway." Sam tries not to laugh, "We are currently waiting on the owner of this asylum to get here so we can get a tour and get a feel for what we will be dealing with.." Sam looks over at the road, "I think that's them now."

A car pulls up and parks, stepping out is a man and women.

"Are you Mark and Cindy?" Colby asks walking over and the man nods, "Yes, are you Sam and Colby?" Sam holds his hand up, "I'm Sam, this is my girlfriend y/n and that's Colby."

You all say hello and they jump right into it, "So.." Cindy starts out, "This is Agatha Asylum." She motions towards the building behind the fence, "This is to keep anyone out, since we're trying to get it ready to present to the public, we have it blocked off so people don't get in without us knowing. Or we try to at least."

"Have people gotten in?" Colby asks and Mark nod, "Oh yeah. We eventually set up security cameras around the perimeter. The day we noticed a broken window and spray paint lids, actually."

"What kind of things happened here exactly?" Sam asks handing the camera to Colby.

Cindy blows air, "Oh gosh, anything from restraining the patients inhumanly to keeping them locked in cages that were maybe, if they were lucky, a little bigger than themselves."

You raise your eyebrows, "What the hell?"

Mark nods, "most of the women who came in were attacked by the staff if you know what I mean so I'm sure the women are angry. I mean, hell I would be too if I was stuck here."

"Have you guys had any thing happen to you?" Colby asks, "Like personally or maybe to someone you know that has come here."

Mark nods, "Yeah, I've had my tools messed with, moved. Cindy has been pushed down the steps, and one of my guys who are working with me on getting this ready, was pushed from his ladder."

"Pushed off a lad- oh shit." Sam shakes his head, "Is there anything we need to know before going in there? Like maybe who to try and get in contact with or what not to ask?"

"John Agatha. He's the one who ran this place. Many people have tried to contact him but they never got any real answers as to why." Cindy says, "Just make your intentions known, I know some of the spirits in there can get pretty mean, so just keep reminding them that you mean no harm."

"Has anyone stayed a full night here?" You ask and they laugh, "No."

"No?" Colby asks raising his eyebrows, "Looks like we have a challenge on our hands, guys." He looks over at you and Sam and Sam shakes his head, "I'm already shitting my pants, dude."

"You all will by the time it gets dark. It's a pretty active place during the day, don't get me wrong, but not only me, but from other groups that came through as well, said it's gets worse at night." Mark sighs, "So. Who's ready for the tour?"

"You guys have fun, I'm going home." Colby pretends to walk away before turning back around, "No, let's go before I really do change my mind."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"So this hallway leads you to where most of the women were held.." Cindy points to the right and then to the left, "Men were held that way."

"Is there any specific areas as to where the most activity happens?" Sam asks laying his hand on your back as he steps around you, "Where were the cages kept exactly?"

"This whole place, honestly. You're bound to get activity anywhere in here and there were at least two cages per room."

"Per room?" You raise your eyebrows, "How many were kept in a room at one time?"

"Two but some held up to four, depending on many were here and came in and what not." Mark says looking around. He stares down the hallway and Sam turns the camera, "Did you see something?"

"A shadow moved across then end of that hallway there." He points, "No taller than you." He motions to Colby and Colby shrugs, "Sorry. I'm just that fast."

He starts pretending to Sonic run in place. You laugh and shake your head, "You can't be serious at all can you?" He shakes his head, "Not when I'm scared shitless, no."

Mark and Cindy laugh and start walking down the hall way. They explain each room briefly, basically what it was used for until you finally reach an old wooden door that's laying on the floor.

"This is where they kept, what they called, the worst of the worst." Mark lifts the door, revealing a steep staircase, "Watch your step as you come down."

"This is a really odd basement entrance." Sam says handing the camera to Colby, "What the hell."

Mark and Cindy go down first, followed by Sam then you. He helps you down, coaching you through the steps until you reach the bottom.

"What you're not going to help me?" Colby asks looking over his shoulder at Sam. All of you start baby talking to Colby coaching him down the steps and he stands there with his lips pressed together, "Should have never said anything."

Sam takes the camera, making sure Colby is good before turning around, "What is up with freaking jail cells in the basements of these places?"

"Literally." You mumble as you wrap your arms around yourself, "It's so cold down here. Did they have any sort of heat at the time of this place being open?"

Mark shakes his head, "They had a fireplace over there but as you can see it got filled from the outside in so who knows when that happened."

There's a loud thud from upstairs and you jump, "the fuck?"

Colby points, "That sounded like the door lifted up and dropped back down." Sam nods, "Yeah yeah yeah."

"Very well could have been. Doors opening on their own is very common around here." Cindy says, "Especially the third floor, that's where lots of the killings happened."

"Why the third floor?" Colby asks, "Why not down here?"

"The patients ended up dying all over the place, but if they were ordered to be put out by John, they would drag them up the stairs, kill them then dump their bodies out of the back window, into what was said to be a big wagon and then taken about half a mile away and they would just burn them and then just cover the hole with dirt."

"That answers my question about what they do with the bodies." Sam cringes, "I can't even imagine that."

"The hauntings and activity started a year or two after the patients first started to die. So if you can, try to contact.. oh shit. Was was his name?" Cindy looks at Mark and he shakes his head, "Oh, you mean Warren Summers?"

She nods, "Yes! He was reported to be the first to die, they ruled his death an accident but we all know it wasn't."

"Well definitely try to contact him, find out some answers." Colby nods and mark motions, "Alright, I need to get out of here, this spot makes me feel sick."

"Whoa really?" Sam looks at Colby, "Do you feel okay?" Colby nods and Sam looks at you, "Do you feel alright?"

You nod your head, "I mean, I feel like there's pressure on my chest, but it's not like, oh my god I can't breathe, kinda pressure."

"Let's get out of here and we'll just start in the main lobby." Sam says as he walks you over to the stairs. You go up first, followed by Sam and he turns around, "Come on, Colby." His voice is high pitched, "You can do it!"

Colby glares up at him from mid stairs and shakes his head as he laughs, "Thanks buddy. I needed that."

Mark and Cindy make their way up and she points to you, "Are you sure they're the ones not together?"

You sigh and shrug, "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a competition." You laugh and look over at Colby who does the, I'm watching you, motion.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Alright, guys. We have the REM pod here, and we're going to start out easy tonight by starting in the lobby." Sam walks over to the desk, setting the pod down, "It was said that there was a receptionist here who just so happened to be John's wife, Mabel, so she had to known everything you'd think."

"Didn't mark say that she disappeared randomly one day and no one really looked for her?" You ask looking at Sam, and he nods, "Yeah yeah yeah, maybe she didn't know what was going on and when she started to find out he silenced her?"

"John Agatha was a very wealthy man at the time of his death, so it very well could be or he offed her because she knew he had money?" Colby shrugs, "I mean, there's really only one way to find out."

Colby leans forward, switching on the pod and testing it a few times before stepping back, "Ladies first." He smirks towards you and you roll your eyes playfully, "Okay. Hello, my name is y/n. I mean no harm, I'm just here to ask you a few questions if that's okay."

The pod lights up and you straight up slightly, "If it's okay that I ask, can you touch that little light for me again?"

It lights up and you look between Sam and Colby, "Okay." You look back, "Thank you. Am I speaking to the wife of John Agatha? Mabel. If so touch that light for me again."

A few seconds go by before the light goes off, "Thank you, Mabel."

Sam hands the camera to Colby, "Hello, Mabel, I'm Sam. I come with peace and the possibility of finding out what happened here. I'd like to ask you something too if that's okay."

The pod lights up and Sam takes a deep breath, "Did your husband.. end your life?"

Right after the pod lights up, it stops and there's a loud crash from slightly far away.

You all jump, yelling out cuss words. You lean around Sam the look down the hallway, "What the hell was that?"

"It sounded like something big fell, like you know those big metal carts the food trays are served on? It sounded like one of those and everything in it just falling out." Colby moves forward, "Should we go check it out?"

The rem pod lights up three times in a row and you all look back at it before looking at each other.

"My name is Colby, I mean no harm to you or anyone else here. Was that a warning? Should we not go look?" Colby asks and it lights up one time quickly, "Make that go off for me if that was a yes."

Instantly turns on.

"Fuck, okay." Colby turns to Sam, "What do we do?"

Sam shakes his head, "If we're being told not to go there, we shouldn't."

"That hasn't stopped us before." Colby chuckles slightly, "Y/n."

You're zoned out on the dark hallway where the sound came from, you know that Colby has the camera on you, but you can't acknowledge it.

You feel Sam's hand on you, pulling you back as your body is trying to go forward, "Hey, hey. Y/n. Look at me." Sam steps in front of you, breaking your stare and you shake your head slightly.

He looks up at Colby and back to you, "What just happened? Talk to me." Sam lays his hands on your cheeks and keeps your head straight, "Hey."

"I felt something calling me towards where the sound came from." You lay your hand on Sam's bicep, "It was weird."

"What the fuck." Sam whispers as he looks back up at Colby and he shrugs, "Okay, we'll just go to the left wing, give whatever that is, time to do whatever it needs to do."

Sam pulls you with him, as you still felt drawn.

"So something just took over y/n pretty much." Colby explains, "Y/n, what happened?" He points the camera on you and you laugh slightly, "Um, I don't really know.. like you know how when you're so tired you just zone out?"

They nod and you sigh, "It was like that, but I swear there was a figure standing there, watching us and I was just having some sort of stare down with him."

"You started walking towards it, then. Like what happened with that?" Colby follows up, "Like did it say anything?"

You shake your head, "I knew you had the camera on me, and I knew Sam was pulling me back, but no. Nothing was said, it just stood there watching us and I just felt like I needed to go there."

"John Agatha?" Sam whispers, "Could it- do you think it was him?" You shrug, "Maybe? I don't know, it was the same figure Mark saw I think.. he was really no taller than Colby."

"It had to be, maybe he's trying to tell us to get out or maybe.. with a sliver of luck, he wants to explain himself." Colby shakes his head, "I don't know, let's just avoid that area until we cover this side."

Colby grabs the pod, switching it off as he turns back towards you and Sam, "Are you okay like do you feel alright?"

You nod, even though you feel like you could puke, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Sam rubs your arm, "You sure?"

You nod again, "Yes, Sam. I'm sure."

He could tell something was off, but he trusted you. He knew you'd stop if you really couldn't handle it.

"Where to next?" You ask as you take his hand into yours. Sam squeezes your hand and points, "I figured we could go into the day room, that's where Paul Yellow allegedly killed his roommate."

"These two men specifically had beef with each other.." Colby starts out as he hands the camera to Sam who lets go of your hand to take it, "..it was said that they would always be stealing from each other and would always be trying to get one another in trouble, but no one would admit to it, so the staff basically let them handle it themselves and that's when Paul came into the day room with a hammer that he somehow found, and bludgeoned Frank to death."

"Yeah in front of everyone but the staff were basically the only, " sam turns the camera around to him, putting at quotes, "Sane ones here, so they covered it up basically by saying that Frank fell and that was that."

"Wasn't Paul taken by the staff and tortured?" You ask as you look over at Sam. He nods, "Pretty much, yes."

As Sam and Colby explain what you guys were going to do next, you walked over to the window, looking out into the old courtyard.

"Come over here."

You turn around, walking over to Sam, "What?" He looks at you confused, "What?" You look between him and Colby, "Didn't you just tell me to come over here?"

Sam looks up at Colby and back down to you, "No I was getting the EMF ready."

You motion towards the window, "I swear to god, you said, come over here, when I was standing at the window."

Colby's eyes go wide, "He didn't say that." He shakes his head, "Oh fuck."

"So if you didn't sa-"

The sound of, what you think, is a metal trash can sliding across the floor makes you stop talking. It's quick, but you all hear it.

"Something just got drug or pushed across the floor." Sam whispers, "Fuck, fuck, okay. Let's get this thing going.." he turns on the EMF and you all step back.

"I'm y/n. I come in peace, I just want to ask a few questions. Paul Yellow, did you tell me to come over here?" You bite down on your cheek, waiting for the device to give you an answer.

"Were you over by the window with me?" You ask and it lights up green, "was it Paul?"

It lights up red.

"Are we talking to Frank?" Colby asks and it lights up green, "Did Paul kill you?"

Lights up red.

"Was it someone else?" Sam asks trying to keep the camera still and he looks over at you when it lights up green.

"Who else co-" you stop, "Was it one of the staff, Frank?"

Instant green.

"One of the staff did it then blamed Paul?" Colby looks shocked and he jumps slightly as it lights up green, "Holy shit, dude."

"I wonder if they've had anyone figure this out." Sam asks and he turns around, "Did you hear that?" You lean around to look, listening for the sound. Sam looks back, "It sounded like someone was walking and dragging their hand along the wall."

The sound Sam explained happened again and you look up at him, "That?" Sam nods, "Exactly that."

"Something is following us." Colby says quietly, "It has to be."

The EMF lights up green and you all look at each other, "Is it John Agatha?" You glance back at the EMF, "All you need to do is-"

It lights up green and you sigh, "Thank you." A thump against the wall makes you jump, "I don't think he likes being told what to do." You joke which makes Colby laugh, Sam just shakes his head.

"You good, bro?" Colby pushes his arm and looks at him. Sam smiles slightly, "Yeah, no I'm good."

You find yourself being pulled into that stare again, this time it's in the corner of the day room, but nothing is there.

"Colby. Colby." Sam says as he grabs you by the waist. You try to pull away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, "Y/n. Snap out of it, come on."

You lean back into him, "There's something over there."

"You aren't going over there alone." He fights back as he switches his flash light on, revealing just the ripped wallpaper, "See. Nothing."

"There was." You turn around, "he was watching us."

"Who? John?" Colby asks and the EMF lights up green, "Maybe we should try the-" the loud crashing sound makes him stop talking instantly.

"You don't think people got in here do you?" Sam tightens his grip on your waist, "We tweeted about coming here.. so like.."

"They have cameras all around the perimeter they said, and I'm sure they would have told us if they saw something." Sam says as he pulls his phone out, "Let me call Mark, see if he can tell me if there was anything outside."

As Sam calls mark, you close your eyes, resting your head back on his shoulder. Colby walks up, squeezing your arm, "You still with us?"

You open your eyes, nodding, "Yeah I just got really dizzy."

Sam looks down at you and puts the phone on speaker, "There was nothing outside?"

"Not since you went back inside." Mark says on the other end of the phone, "If you do decide to leave just make sure you lock the gate and we can get the key tomorrow."

"Alright, yeah. We'll let you know." Sam says and they end the call, "So it's just us in here." He looks down at you, "Are you okay?"

You nod and stand up, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not dizzy anymore?" He brushes hair from your face and you shake your head, "No I'm good."

"I'm thinking we move from here and we go to the third floor." Colby walks over and Sam stops you from following him, "We can leave if this is too much."

"Sam. I'm fine. I promise."

"I don't like the way you just zone out and try to walk away. That's not like you, that isn't you." His eyes scan over your face and you weren't sure if it was the place effecting you, but you just wanted to keep going, "Something is drawing us to that hallway."

"What do you mean?" Sam shakes his head, "Y/n, I don't want you out of my sight, this place is too big and too dark for you to just go off away from us."

"Then put me on a leash or something, because I'm not done here."

You've never spoken to Sam like that. Ever. So when you said it, you were both surprised, "I'm.. sorry, I don't know where that came from."

"My point exactly." Sam chews on his lip, trying to tell himself over and over again that this place is a lot more powerful than they thought.

"What's going on? You guys okay?"

"Yes." You say the same time Sam says, "No."

Colby looks between the two of you then back to Sam. Sam sighs, "This place obviously has a hold over you, y/n. So everything is not okay."

"What-" Colby starts but you cut him off, looking directly at Sam, "Sam. This is what we do. you can't expect me to just back out every time something hap-"

Sam cuts you off, "Yours being pulled by what we can only assume is a dark entity. How do you expect me to act? Just let you walk off into the sunset with it? No. No thanks."

"Guys, come on.. just take a deep breath. There's absolutely no need to argue." Colby tries to settle the situation but it only seemed to fire up the ghosts because it sounds like a table is lifted then dropped back down.

Sam instantly grabs you, pulling you to him, "You're staying close."

You don't put up any more of a fight, knowing that Sam would drag you out himself if he had to, "Fine."

You knew he was right. As soon as you seen the figure in the hallway, something switched and it was like you needed to follow it.

And you didn't know why.

"Why don't we just go there?" Colby says as you guys leave the day room, "Where the sound happened. If it gets bad we can just leave, we always have that option."

You knew Colby wanted to stay, too, but he was also worried about Sam because he was worried about you, "What do you want to do, Sam?"

Sam thinks for a moment before sighing, "If you zone out one more time and try to walk away from us, we're leaving."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The investigation went on to be better than you guys thought. Nothing happened to you. Nothing happened to them, you thought that maybe your small argument with Sam helped, but you'd soon come to find out that was not true at all.

"So as you guys could see, there hasn't really been much activity going on, probably for the last hour or two." Colby says and motions towards the spirit box, "We brought this to the third floor, hoping to see if we can figure out what exactly happened to some of the patients."

Sam sets the camera down on the one table, angling it towards you guys and the box, "Okay, we'll sit this right here and.." Sam stands up and turns around, "Did you touch me?"

You shake your head, "We've been over here."

"My whole body like shifted and it felt like someone's hand on my side." He lays his hand right where he felt it, "like right here exactly." Colby walks over and Sam demonstrates on him what he felt.

"fucking hell that's creepy." Colby shakes his head, "You know when we were walking up the stairs, it felt like someone else was behind us."

"I thought I heard someone whistle or whisper, I don't know.. it was like a quiet high pitched sound, but I couldn't make out if it was a word or not." You look around, "This floor honestly makes me nervous, and those creepy steps didn't help."

"Those stairs the whole way up I just kept thinking about how people were actually getting dragged up and sown." Sam shakes his head, "let's just.. get this thing going."

Sam was off, and you picked up on it quickly. It was almost like what took over you, took over Sam.

"Sam?" You step towards him, "Sam... Colby.. colby."

He stares at the floor and Colby walks up to him, "Sam, dude. Hey."

You shake him slightly and he looks back up, "Let's get this thing going."

You look at Colby and back to Sam, "You already said that." He looks at you confused, "Huh?" He laughs nervously, "No I didn't."

Colby nods, "You did, man. You zoned out after, looking at the floor."

Sam looks at you, "Did it come after me now?"

You shrug, "I was thinking that, because isn't that what I did?" You look at Colby and he nods, "yes but the only thing is he didn't try to walk off."

Sam switches the box on, "What do you want with us?"

"... I want ... to know.."

"You want to know what?" Colby asks loudly, "did you take over y/n and Sam?"

"... Miss.. it ..."

"You miss what?" You ask, "Do you miss being alive?"

" ... alive ..."

"You are not welcome to touch us. You cannot control us." Sam says, "What do you want us to see?"

"... the... truth .. in here .."

"Were you murdered here?" Colby asks and it sounds like something bouncing down the steps, "Was that you making that noise?"

"... must get ... out..."

"Are you telling us to get out? Or do you want to get out?" Sam presses his fingers to his lips, "Can you tell us who we're talking to?"

"... he's in.. here .."

"Who? Who is in here?" You ask staring at the box, "Can you tell us who is here with us?"

" ... John .. murder .."

"John and murder?" Colby looks at you guys, "Did John murder you? Were you murdered by John Agatha?"

"... liar .. he lies ..."

"Did John lie about your death?" You ask and step closer to Sam, "What did he do to you?"

"... tried to run.."

"Did you try and escape? Did he punish you for that?" Colby asks and jumps next to you when the door to the one room slams shut, "Who is here with us? Reveal your name to us."

"... John .. is mad..."

"Is he mad that we're here trying to find out what he did?" You ask and Sam looks at you, "I think we should stop."

You felt the need to keep going, "Can he come in here with us?"

"Y/n." Colby looks at you then to Sam, jumping as heavy footsteps come down the hallway, "Sam's right." Colby reaches to switch off the spirit box, but you stop him, "Just wait."

Sam nods at him, chewing on his lip as the footsteps start again.

"John Agatha. If you're here, tell us why you killed those people." You glance towards the door, only to snap your head back to the box,

"... they needed to die ..."

"No they didn't. They were sick." You argue and Sam pulls you back, "That's enough." You push away from him, "Sam. We're getting answers."

"No, you're arguing with something that we're unsure of. You don't know the power of this thing. " Sam runs a hand through his hair, "I think we're done. I don't like this-"

"Colby do you want to leave?" You look at Colby and he holds his hands up, "I think I'm with Sam on this one."

You roll your eyes, "Of course you do."

"Y/n. What the hell has gotten into you?" Sam looks at you shocked, "You have never acted this way during one of these and that's why we're done." He grabs your wrist, holding onto you, "We are done here."

"... no .."

Sam shakes his head and turns off the box, "I'm not doing this. We can talk about this at home."

You turn around, finding Colby no where in the room, "Colby?" You call out, "Sam. Colby is gone." Sam's heart starts to race, "Fuck, yo Colby?"

No answer.

"Fuck. Fuck. Come on." He hands you the camera, and turns on his flashlight, yelling for Colby as you make your way to the stairs.

"Careful, careful." Sam makes sure you make it down okay before stopping at the bottom, "You don't think he went to the basement did you?"

"Or where the sound came from? That's where I was feeling drawn to." You look around, sighing, "Fuck. Fuck. Colby?!"

You hear a loud thump come from where the first crash happened, "We have to." You look at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, yeah. I know." He interlocks his fingers with yours and pulls you with him.

You both yell out for Colby, looking for any kind of sign, "Colby? Come on this isn't funny." Your voice kinda breaks as your fear builds up faster and faster.

"Colby. Come on man, we're leaving." Sam yells out and you stop when you see a metal cart laying on its side, old trays spilling out from the door that is open.

"He was right, that's what that sound was earlier when we started." Sam shines the flashlight on it and looks up, "Colby?"

"Wait." You stop Sam, "Isn't John's office over here?"

His eyes go wide, "Fuck, yeah it is." He turns towards the walkway, "Colby!?"

You perk up, "Wait. I think.." you whisper, "Yell out to him again."

"Colby?!"

"This way." You pull Sam down the hall, half preparing yourself for when Colby jumps out and scares you both, or at least you're hoping that's what he's doing.

"Colby? Please." You beg, hoping you can find him.

"If we just left when I said.."

You stop, cutting Sam off, "No. we aren't playing the blame game because right now our friend is lost and we have no idea where he is."

"Where who is?" Colby walks up, and you Sam let out a scream.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Sam yells, "You just up and left us dude. Why?"

"You guys were arguing and I thought I heard someone in the hallway, so I came out to see and then I was halfway down the steps. I thought I saw people, like teenagers run to the left and my first instinct was to just go." Colby explains, "I don't know dude. Really, I was running and then I was like wait, I'll get lost so I turned around and now we're here."

"You could have been hurt, Colby." You push his shoulder and he just shrugs.

"Sorry man." Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, "last I knew you were right behind us."

He nods, "it's fucking crazy. This place is a maze, and I don't mean physically either."

"Let's just.. go get the stuff and head out to the car." Sam sighs, pointing the camera to Colby, "We found him. He says there were people here but we aren't sure about anything, and I mean that about this whole entire place."

"I don't even know how to describe it other than what y/n said. Like that tired feeling and then I wasn't where I remember I was." Colby explains and you nod, "Yeah like you can tell what you're doing but you aren't focused on what you're doing."

"Alright well I think that's it for-" Sam stops talking and looks behind him, "There was just.. three knocks." He whips around looking at you guys when it happens again, "that.. that.."

"What the hell is that?" Colby whispers and you're pushed towards the way the office is, "Do not touch me. Do not touch any of us." You hold your hand up, "Fuck."

"Y/n. We need to go." Colby steps towards you and you shake your head, "we can't leave."

"We aren't arguing again, y/n." Sam walks towards you and when he goes to grab your hand, he's pushed back.

Colby snaps his head towards the hall, "Someone just said don't touch her." He looks at Sam, "I swear to god dude. A clear as day whisper like right behind me."

You feel something grab your hair and lift it off of your shoulder. You jump and brush a hand over, "Something just played with my hair."

"We're leaving."

As you go to collect the equipment, that's when things take a turn for the weird.

"So, maybe Colby was right. We heard things..." Sam says as he tries to control his breathing, "We aren't sure what it was exactly, right now we're just ducked down behind this desk thing."

"That's what I heard earlier, but you'd think if it was actual people they'd make a lot more noise than just footsteps, right?" Colby whispers leaning in towards you and Sam. Sam's grips on your hand tightens as the foot steps grow closer.

They stop abruptly and Colby stands up, "There's no one here." Sam pulls your arm, "Let's just make a run for it."

You guys book into the door, breathing heavy as Colby closes it with a slam. Sam pulls you away from the building, "you okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, yeah are you?" He nods and pulls you into him, hugging you tightly.

"That was fucking crazy." Colby says walking around you guys, "I've never experienced anything like that. Like we were affected in a way we can't really explain in depth."

"This doesn't feel finished, though." You pull away from Sam and he stares at you, "What?"

You look between him and Colby, "Exactly what I said."

And you meant that. You wanted to come back here, get more answers about this asylum. You knew more happened here than what people have said.

"You're going to really stand here, and tell me that you want to go back in there." Sam scoffs, "Even after what you had happen? What I had happen? Christ, y/n, Colby went missing for god knows how long."

He puts his hands on his head and spins around slowly, trying to comprehend as to why you'd want to.

"Because there's more in there, more stuff that people don't know and I want to be the one to find out exactly what it is." You point to the building and drop your hand, "If you don't want to then I'll come back myself."

"The fuck you will." Sam shakes his head, "Y/n. You could have been the one lost. You could have been the one lost in there, alone.. and I don't-" his voice cracks and he clears his throat, "You're not coming back here and I mean that."

"Why don't we -"

"Stay out of this, Colby." You and Sam say looking over at him.

He holds his hands up and walks over to the car while you and Sam still argue.

"You didn't know what you were doing, y/n. Okay? You could have easily got lost." Sam looks at you and you shrug, "But I didn't."

He stares at you a few moments before shaking his head, "The only reason you want to come back here is because whatever is on the other side of that door is making you want to come back."

You clench your jaw, knowing that he's right but since you're fighting, you don't want to let him win easy.

"That place changed you." Sam says lowly, "We have never, ever fought like this, we've never fought at all. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Never said it didn't, Sam." You mumble as you walk towards the car, getting into the back. You glance over, seeing Sam bend down slightly before kicking the rocks on the ground and walking over to get in the passenger seat of the car.

"Home?" Colby asks starting the car.

You and Sam both mumble a low, "Mhm." Colby takes a deep breath and starts to drive out of the gate, "I have to lock up. Don't kill each other." He gets out, jogging up to shut the gate.

Sam glances back at you and you look at him. He sighs, "I'm still mad, but I love you."

You try not to smile, "I love you."

Colby gets back into the car, "Did you guys makeup yet?" You both refuse to answer and he laughs sarcastically to himself, "Oh this is going to be such a wonderful quiet ride home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"We have like half an hour left, do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Colby looks at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, that works." He looks back at you, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." You say lowly with a slight nod.

"Are we finally speaking to each other?" Colby acts surprised, "Wow. It's about time."

You roll your eyes and Sam scoffs, "I'm mad, that doesn't mean I don't care about her still."

You smile slightly, looking away from him so he doesn't see it. You get out of the car and go to walk in but Colby stops you, "We weren't us back there. Don't hold it over his head."

"Tell that to him." You mumble and he nods, "I plan to, trust me. I just got to you first." You laugh as you walk in to the store and Colby walks up to Sam, telling him the same thing he told you.

As you're standing there, looking at the snacks, you feel hands slides around your waist and pull you back, "You know.."

"What do I know?" You ask as your nails gently graze over his hands, "Even though you pissed me off.." his voice goes quiet, "The way you argued with the ghost was such a turn on."

You smirk and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Is that your way of saying you're sorry?" He bites his bottom lip as he looks at you, "I'll say it when we get home."

He winks at you and leans in to kiss you. You slide your fingers in his hair, humming against his lips slightly.

Colby walks up, "Now that's what I like to see."

You and Sam pull away and look at him. He has a big cheesy smirk on his face and you can't help but laugh, "What would we do without him?"

Colby buts in, "Oh i don't know, probably give each other the silent treatment until days from now."

Sam chuckles and sighs, "That wasn't any of us back there." You look up at him, "Yeah.. that was bad."

Colby nods, "I've never seen you act the way you did, y/n. Honestly it was kinda badass. Arguing with a potential demon."

Sam nods, looking down at you. You look up at him, "I learned from the best."

You grab your snacks and head out to the car, getting into the back as they get up front, "So now that this is no longer a quiet ride home, and I am no longer feeling awkward, can we please talk about what happened?"

"Mhm. Yeah sure." Sam mumbles as he stares down at his phone. Colby looks over at him before he starts driving, "What are you doing?"

You phone vibrates and you see a message from Sam, "Colby don't look at his phone. I beg you."

"Why can be so-" he reads over the message that was sent from Sam's phone, you've had me low key turned on this entire night, when we get home I'm going to show you just how sorry I am.

"Well, okay." Colby sits forward, "That awkward part is back."

You laugh, replying to Sam, just how are you going to do that?

Colby clears his throat, "Can we.." he laughs, "Can you stop sexting each other for one second so we can do the outro please?"

You sigh, resting your phone down on the seat next to you, "anything for princess Colby." He lays his hand under his chin, "As it should be."

You and Sam both laugh and he gets the camera rolling, "We are currently on our way home. Tonight was.." Sam sighs and looks at Colby, "I don't even know how to explain it."

"A big mess." You laugh and Colby sighs, "It was definitely something like that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were .. taken over basically."

"Yeah, yeah no. That part was absolutely fucked up. I luckily didn't have it happen like y/n or Colby did, but it was still a surreal feeling to have people telling you that you zoned out with absolutely no recollection of it at all." Sam points his thumb back to you, "And then you got Mrs I like to argue with ghosts back here, but that's a story we'll post on our other channel, maybe, who knows, but we are done for tonight, like I said, it was a whirlwind of events and we are so excited for you guys to see what we experienced tonight at the Agatha Asylum."

"Drop a like if Mrs I like to argue with ghosts should be made into a sweatshirt." Colby gives a thumbs up and Sam yells, "Ayyyy yes. Y/n." He points the camera to you, "How would you like to have your own collection."

"That would be pretty sick." You smile and nod, "I actually like that a lot."

Sam points the camera to himself, "Well have to work on it. See you guys in the next one."

Sam cuts the camera off, "Mrs I like to argue with ghosts." He laughs and looks back at you, "I'm getting you a hoodie that says that."

You smile and nod, "I'll wear it everyday."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Have fun. I'll be down here editing away from all the noise." Colby says as he grabs his laptop off the counter.

Without any hesitation, Sam grabs your hand and up the stairs you go, laughing with him as you try to keep up.

You run into the room you share, falling on the bed with him on top of you, "You drive me insane, but always in the best way." His lips press to yours as his hand pulls your head close to him.

You drag his sweatshirt up his back, telling him you want it off. He leans up, slipping it off in one perfect motion and you pull him back down to kiss you.

He grinds himself against you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you." You moan slightly, shaking your head, "We weren't us." You cup his face, "This is us."

He smiles and kisses you again. You quickly grow into a heated make out, clawing the rest of each other clothes off and slipping under the blankets.

"If I ever yell at you like that again, just sacrifice me to the demons, babe." He chuckles slightly, brushing hair from your face before sliding his hand down to pull you closer.

"I'd be coming with you. We're inseparable." You nudge your nose against his and he nods, "Damn right we are."

He rolls on top of you, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, "You were so.." he lets out a low moan as he slips his cock into you, "..fucking hot back there.."

He pushes his hips to meet yours, "You always amaze me."

You run your hand through his hair, biting down on your lip as he starts to thrust, "Fuck.." you whimper and look up at him, "I'd do anything to protect you."

"I'd die for you." He stares at you for a few seconds, still thrusting deep and slow, "I mean that wholeheartedly. You mean the most to me and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

You smile and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

He kisses your lips, whispering a low, "I love you."

He leans up a little bit, "Now roll over so I can punish you for yelling at me." He winks and gives you a cocky smirk before pulling out. You smirk as your stomach does an excited flip.

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam's body is immediately on yours, his cock back in to where it was before, "I wanted to shut you up in anyway I could."

You moan as he thrusts slow, "Why didn't you?"

"Would have had to cut a lot of the footage out." Sam says lowly in your ear, "Plus I don't really want Colby seeing how pretty you look while you're gagging on my dick."

Your eyes roll back as he pushes all the way in, "Because you my love, are fucking gorgeous."

You grip the sheets, moaning as his hand slides around to your throat, squeezing as he whispers, "Or how pretty you look while I'm in between those legs.."

"S-Sam." You squeeze his cock with your walls, "Fuck, I-I'm so close."

"Go ahead, baby." Sam groans lowly, "Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer either." He hooks his thumb over your bottom jaw and you immediately suck.

He moans lowly, pounding into you, "That's my girl."

You moan around his thumb, trying to move your hips but you can't go anywhere. Your moans are growing louder as you reach your point, squeezing him as you claw at the sheets.

"Come on, baby." He pleads, "Cum for me."

You whimper and moan his name over and over again, letting your head fall back as you cum, "Fuck fuck fuck."

Sam suddenly pulls out, his cum spilling on your back, "Fuck, babe." you let your head fall forward, resting on the bed as your breathing is heavy.

"You okay?" Sam asks getting up to get you a towel. You look back at him, "Oh yeah. I'm so much better."

He smiles and shakes his head, "You know, I wonder how much of us arguing was actually caught on camera."

"Probably all of it, Sam. And if I'm being honest, it'll probably turn me on again." You roll over once he wipes you off and smirk up at him.

"You too, huh?" He smiles as he bites his bottom lip as you nod, "Uh huh. Very much." He pulls you up so you're standing in front of him, "I really don't want to yell at you again, but if it's something that'll get you going then.." he leans in, kissing you, "then we might just have to work something out."

You suddenly hear Colby yelling, "Oh shit. No fucking way!"

You quickly throw on clothes and run down, "What? What? What!?" Sam asks going over, you hand still in his, "Bro what the fuck is that?"

"That my friend is what was controlling us tonight." Colby turns the laptop towards you and Sam and you gasp, "That's exactly what I saw."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

[baby-yongbok]

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus. 

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -” 

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself. 

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions. 

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair. 

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls. 

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed. 

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.” 

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic. 

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you. 

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you. 

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it. 

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all. 

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in. 

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

[inkedobsidian]

~The Addams - S.R~

summary: The team get to meet Spencers mystery girlfriend at a Halloween party

pairing: Y/N X Spencer Reid

warnings: none shits fluffy

word count: 788

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

It wasn't rare for the team to spend holidays together, Halloween was always a fun one. The costumes mixed with the drinks always made for an eventful time. Only this time the gang had an addition, Spencer Reid's girlfriend. None of them had met her yet but there was excitement in the air. Everyone agreed on matching outfits to make it a bit more entertaining. Aaron had managed to convince Beth to take a train ride from New York to join him as Mr. and Mrs. Smith. JJ and Will had turned up as Sandy and Danny from Grease, the outfit in particular earned one too many whoops from Penelope as JJ walked down the steps in the black jumpsuit. Last but not least was the incredible duo of Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan as the one and only Superman and Lois Lane. Penelope had somehow managed to convince Derek to only wear the lycra suit, and that choice in itself earned whoops from all of the team.

The was an obvious air of intrigue as the time kept creeping and Spencer had not arrived yet with his mystery woman, the team knew nothing about her at all. Derek Morgan put it the best when he said 'She'd have to be one hell of a woman to keep up with you,' and my god he was right. Everyone's heads snapped towards the door as they heard the click of the closing patio door. They looked up to Spencer stood alone in a black and white pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back and sprayed to look black.

"Here he is! Pretty boy himself now where is this mystery woman?" Derek said clapping his hands and walking towards Spencer who remained standing at the stairs leading to the garden. Spencer let the smile spread across his face as Derek embraced him with a hug and his signature pat on the back. The rest of the team followed suit and walked towards Spencer eagerly awaiting the arrival of his date.

"She's just parking now, insisted we took her car as it quote unquote looks cooler," Spencer said laughing looking towards the door, also waiting with eager nerves for the team to meet her. Garcia didn't waste a moment taking his arms in her hands and making him do a small spin to show her the outfit.

"Gomez Addams?" Penelope says half sure. Before Spencer could answer her the front door opened and Y/N through the house towards the patio. Spencer turned opening an arm to welcome her.

"And my Morticia," The team could not deny that they were in shock the moment she walked through the door. Everyone had spoken about what they thought she looked like, what outfit they'd be wearing. Almost anything you could speculate about they had talked about it. Penelope even phoned Emily to talk about it, and she also promised to send a photo.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," She said smiling leaning into Spencer's open arm. Y/N had the perfect Morticia outfit; the long black hair, the long low-cut black dress, and the dark makeup. Penelope was, of course, the first person to step forward and take Y/N's hands in hers.

"I am Pen-"

"Penelope Garcia, I have heard so much about you!" Y/N cut her off with pure excitement on her face. Penelope recoiled a little in shock, she didn't know if it was the shock that Spencer had spoken about her or the shock that Y/N seemed so excited to meet her.

"You spoke about me?" Penelope says pulling back to see Spencer's face turn pinkish at the comment.

"Spencer has spoken about all of you in great detail, and trust me he remembers everything," Y/N says laughing embracing Penelope in a hug. Derek took that moment to ruffle Spencer's hair in true big brother fashion.

"Well since you know everything about me, please follow me and tell me EVERYTHING about you!" Penelope tried her best to lead Y/N across the grass towards an empty table, handing her a glass of champagne on the way past. Spencer remained stood on the patio steps with the rest of the team.

"It's nice to see you happy Spencer." Hotch's voice rose above the quiet chittering of the group as they all continued their conversations.

"It's nice to introduce her to you guys finally," Spencer said not taking his gaze off her, even though she was deep in conversation she could feel his gaze on her from the distance across the garden and she couldn't take the rose tint out of her cheeks because of it. It was the first time Y/N had met the team but it certainly wouldn't be the last, Penelope demanded that of her.

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, food mention, guns, somewhat vague description of a robbery, blood

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -> BEFORE (partially written, wc: 1.0k)

"Welcome to my childhood house," you say, opening the creaky door, Minho following you through. "It's not that impressive."

With an awkward laugh, you sling your bag over a chair in the dining room to the left, kicking your shoes off in the process. There isn't much to say about where you grew up, the modest little house speaking for itself. Family photos littered the fireplace mantle in the living room, but aside from that, there wasn't much personality in shared areas. No one was home much now since you and your sister had moved out and your mother works long hours.

"Can I see your room?"

You swing around to see Minho leaning against the doorway with his head titled toward you. The action sends a small shiver down your back.

"No!" You blurt, and his eyes widen. "A girl's room is very personal."

He stares at you for a few moments before breaking into laughter. "Did you just quote 10 Things I Hate About You to me?"

"...I might have," you giggle, surprised he got your reference.

"You're wondering how I knew that, aren't you?" The way your eyebrows raise says it all. "How many times did you watch that movie again...?"

"It's amazing," you roll your eyes, a small smile forming on your lips. "You never stuck around to watch the whole thing, so I didn't think you'd know, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Minho seems genuinely confused, standing straight. "I did- ah, right, you fell asleep that time. You snore, by the way."

This makes you blush. "Everyone does."

"I'm messing with you," he sighs.

Rolling your eyes again, you walk past him and move down the hallway toward your childhood bedroom. When you open the door, you're greeted by the soft mint walls and fuzzy white rug surrounding your bed. You sit on the bed, plush blankets shifting. Minho slowly enters, walking around slowly, and suddenly you feel exposed. All of your silly phases and old hobbies out for him to see, past art awards displayed on your desk in the corner and a pile of dirty laundry in another. He stops on the other side of your bed, fingers finding the frame of your family photo, still lying face down on your nightstand, and your heart hurts.

"Don't," you whisper, not ready to see it again. Immediately, Minho pulls his hand away and looks over to where you're now sitting against the headboard, legs tucked into your body.

"What is it?" Minho nods to the frame. When you don't answer, he climbs onto your bed and pokes your side, making you jolt. "Earth to Y/n. What's the photo?"

"Just a family one," you shrug, and he's still trying to catch your eyes. "Before."

"Before what?" He questions, and you finally lock eyes with him.

"...before I got him killed?"

His eyebrows furrow at this, clearly confused. You don't object this time when he reaches over and flips the frame up. Everyone is smiling and happy, two little girls standing with their parents at some kind of theme park. You couldn't have been more than twelve when it was taken, one of the last family vacations you took.

"What happened?" Minho asks, voice low, turning his whole body to face you with the photo still in his lap.

"It was my birthday," you start slow, willing yourself not to cry. "I had just turned fifteen and I didn't get this one album I really wanted. My dad could tell I was upset and said it wasn't in stock when he went to order it, but that he could go now and check if the store had it. We could make a day out of it, and we did.

"The mall wasn't super busy that day, so we got food first. In the actual store, he asked me to go browse as he found the album and paid since he wanted the illusion of surprise still." You sniff, taking the photo in your hands. "So I left to wait outside instead. This guy bumped into me on the way out and I made some stupid comment about watching where he was going," your voice wavers. "When I turned around, I saw he had a gun. Next thing I knew, I was watching him threaten the cashier and my dad."

You pause, taking a deep breath. Minho hasn't said anything, patiently waiting for you to either finish the story or announce you were done, you didn't want to say more. But you did. This is the first time you've opened up to someone about this, not including Hyunjin or NingNing.

"I panicked and ran to my dad, but that must have freaked the guy out because he tried to attack me, but my dad jumped out in front of me and got hit instead." You look up at Minho with damp eyes, voice barely above a whisper. "I still remember the feeling of his blood seeping into my clothes. I still remember screaming, begging him to move. He bled out a lot by the time the ambulance got there."

"Thank you for telling me," Minho says when you're quiet again.

"If I hadn't..." you shake your head. "If I hadn't wanted that stupid album, he'd still be here."

"Don't do that," Minho grabs your face gently by your chin, forcing you to look at him again. "Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly predicted would happen. Y/n, that's not your fault. This is what you've been blaming yourself for?"

You nod. "If I wasn't being so stupid-"

"You were fifteen, Y/n."

And you can't hold it in anymore, sobbing and hiccupping into his shirt for the second time that evening. You stay like this for a while, and you don't know when you shifted into a lying down position, wrapping an arm across his stomach with a leg wrapped around one of his. His hand is in your hair, the other tracing lines up and down your exposed arm. Falling asleep is easy and unexpected, and when you wake up, he's been replaced with a large, purple cow plushie that was previously sitting in the corner of your room. There's a text from him on your phone waiting for you when you're about to ask where he is.

notes -> sooo....... y/n is starting to open up more to minho ! 😁 also, i will be closing the taglist at ch 25!

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[boba-beom]

༊*·˚ nobody but you | KANG TAEHYUN

ᰔᩚ pairing: bsf!!taehyun x gn!reader

ᰔᩚ genre: oneshot; bsf2l, fluff, suggestive

ᰔᩚ warnings: intimate, confession, physical affection, kisses, makeout, petname; sweetheart, reader plays hard to get(?), taehyun carries reader at the end (he's a strong boy <3)

ᰔᩚ wc: 1.1k

ᰔᩚ a/n: happy 22nd birthday to the my first love out of five, kang taehyun <3 I was in my feels when I wrote this so enjoy :') song that inspired me this time: double take - dhruv

The crisp afternoon breeze tickles your lungs as you take a deep inhale before exhaling with a needed stretch. You make your way to the terrace of the airbnb that you and your best friend had booked for the weekend and you see him in his black sherpa fleece sitting in front by the glass panel.

"Hey, why didn't you wake me up? I overslept." You pull a chair and join him, scooting your seat close to him with no gap between.

"You looked too peaceful to wake up." He reasons.

The both of you are looking out at the empty beach, waiting for the waves to roll in until they fade out again, your arm linked with his but his hand rests by the inside of your wrist.

He begins skimming lazy strokes with his blunt fingernails up and down the inside of your wrist, gradually pushing up the hem of your sleeve for him to do so. The feather-like pressure only brought tingles up your forearm and to your shoulders, emitting a little shudder.

It was comfortable.

He continues his motions, as he hums a tune that's been stuck in his head, but you recognise it easily.

"I haven't head that song for ages." You speak up.

He hums. "Mhm, it's been two years since it came out. But it's timeless, I must say."

You nod slowly, smiling at his appreciation towards the artist and the song as he rests his chin on your shoulder, noticing the way the warmth of his breath fans across your exposed skin by your collar.

"You know," he starts, voice low by your ear, "I once learnt that other than your erogenous zones, the inside of your wrist up to the palm of your hand is just as sensitive."

"Mmh, makes sense why you like to do this. Who else do you do this to?" You tease, knowing that Taehyun would definitely tell you if there was someone in the picture, right?

"You know I don't do this to anyone else." He mumbles by your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss.

"You sure? What happened to that person you told me about awhile ago?"

"Silly, it's awhile ago because I'm no long interested in them." He finger quoted.

"So who are you interested in?" You turn to look at your best friend, faces only mere millimetres apart, waiting for his eyes to meet yours.

"You." He says, voice husky.

You retreat, sitting back as your face scrunches in disbelief, not entirely convinced that this beauty of a man chose you out of all the people he has been with.

All he does is huff out of amusement from your reaction. He's always loved that about you.

"You know you're the only one who I have eyes for, right?"

He kisses your shoulder again, this time his lips lingering and trailing up over the thin material of your long sleeved top until you felt his soft lips borderline crossing the neckline by the base of your neck.

"I beg to differ. You're bluffing, surely."

Taehyun grabs the side of your chair, swiftly turning it around so you're directly facing him, also shifting his chair to face you. He plants his hands on either side of the metal arm rests, leaning into you again, almost hovering, leaving a few centimetres between you.

"And if I kiss you, would that convince you?"

"I don't know, you could just be kissing anyone." You say nonchalantly paired with a shrug.

You've never felt so much attention on your lips, especially from Kang Taehyun himself. Only now you've seen him so focused on them, making the corner of your lips quirk up from the thought.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that otherwise I'd feel offended." He feigned a hurt tone.

You chuckle beneath him, and he melts at the sight of your smile that always caught him lacking.

"You have pretty lips, you know?" You say as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, moving your thumb so it brushes against his bottom lip.

"Yeah?"

Taehyun smirks at the gesture, sensing the playful tension now lost and replaced by something unnamed, something that is yet to be confirmed.

"I think you should kiss me if you think so." He whispers lowly, awaiting your response.

"I think I will." You say confidently, tugging at the collar of his fleece as you draw him closer to you.

As your eyes shut, the sensation of your lips colliding almost has you floating, both sighing into the kiss like you've waited for months on end. You bring your fingers up to mess with his hair, running through his wavy locks with the occasional gentle tugs.

He doesn't wait to rest a hand by the side of your neck and the other by your waist, squeezing the area for you to shift onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Your teeth clash from the movement, but they eventually mold together as you steady your arms over his shoulders.

The faint sound of the waves rolling onto the sand, clashing against some odd rocks on the beach is accompanied by the sound of both of your heavy breathing and Taehyun's gentle hums until he pulls away briefly.

"I like you. A lot. And only you." He says between chaste kisses. "God, it's always been you, sweetheart."

Just as you see the tips of his ears turning a blush pink under his brown locks, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He was always so sweet to you, but this? Your knees felt like they buckled despite sitting comfortably in his lap.

"Really? I couldn't tell." Your playful smile returns to your lips as you continue to tease him, feeling the way he huffs again.

"I can show you then? If you want me to." His lips latches delicately on the skin of your neck, showering the area with lightly kisses that has your eyes shutting, focusing on the tingly sensation spreading like a wildfire.

You move your arms so they're hooked from under his arms, hand splayed and resting high on his shoulder blades, maintaining this closeness between your warm bodies. You experiment with a light scratch through his outerwear, yet you still manage to earn a low groan from him as you whisper in his ear.

"Please. I like you. I want you."

"Good. That was the only right answer." He chuckles lightly.

Catching you off-guard, he has one hand under your thighs and the other on your mid back as he stands, knocking back the chair with the back of his leg before carrying you back into your shared bedroom.

The bed unmade; pillows not by the headboard and half of the comforter hanging on the edge of the bed. But it was fine. You had a feeling Taehyun wouldn't mind a bit of a mess anyway — the mess not limited to just the bed itself.

taglist: @choiwrld @yjusei @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @seolis-world @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman (ask to be on the taglist! spreadsheet here)

for this post: @royallyjjk @f4iryfever

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[guillotinna]

I keep seeing these Gen z is task force 141 and I wanna join

Anytime you use a computer, you do that stupid movie hacker trope of exaggerated typing and say "I'm in"

Saying "POV" in front of sentences

In the group chat saying "1 like and I'll kms", liking your own message and then saying "damn guess I gotta"

I see a lot of these posts were Gaz and Soap would understand y/n....bffr, no those geezers would not

No one knows what the gen z kid is saying they just know it's probably not good

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"

You have a small photo you keep tucked in your chest pocket and after enough times seeing you looking lovingly at it, one of the guys asks who it is. Is it a s/o from back home? 😏😏

You say no and pull out a photo card of your fave singer and they're like ??? Really

One time during a particularly physical scuffle with the enemy, you get thrown to the ground and huff out "one hop this time" only to promptly tackle tf outta your assailant while saying "take it back now yall"

Reads everyone's zodiac charts except ghost bc he won't tell his birthday let alone the time he was born so you just make one up

Price calls a 6 am meeting to which you say "double it and give to the next person"

*Alexa, play teenagers by MCR*

If you had time describe the base, you'd say it smells like ball sweat, blood and war crimes which everyone took offense to for different reasons

Would absolutely get soaps doodles tattooed

Actually speaking of which, imagine getting caught giving yourself stick and pokes with a pen and being banned from using pens period

You'd be in a meeting with a #2 pencil

Ofc a gen z member would be absolutely feral which very little regard for their own safety much to the dismay of the others

Quoting "Oh these aren't homemade, they were made in a factory....a bomb factory......they're bombs." All the time around soap even though he has no idea what you're talking about

You don't spent too much alone time with ghost bc he likes quiet and you can't be alone with your thoughts which is why you lean more towards spending time with soap or gaz

I just like puns so I'm gonna add this but gen z love borgs (a customized gallon jug of alcohol that is usually given a name) and yours is appropriately named taskforce 1-borg-1

this is mainly for my americans but i know pretty much the whole world got beef with engl*nd: before you met Soap, you thought the entire 141 was en*lish so when you finally did meet him, you said "oh thank god" with a sigh

americans 🤝 scotts

making fun of english "people"

"Pull up in the monster, automobile gangsta With a bad bitch that came fr-" "....sergeant, comms off please"

you show Ghost WAP and he has to take a walk

*price yelling at gaz and soap*: KYLE GARRICK AND JOHN MACTAVISH GET IN HERE- Y/n: oop not the government name

Another for my US baddies: if your'e ever arguing with any of the guys, the nail in the coffin would be "and it's called soccer"

"one more like and i'll-" "enough!"

you call Price "ms. girl" and he could not be more confused

someone asks "do you serve?" and u reply "yah, serve cunt"

when asked why you decided to join the military you said something like: "well i didnt think i'd live past 18 so when I did, i ended up here".....crickets from the rest of the team

"good thing we only have showers on base because i would have already taken a toaster bath by now"

ask Gaz "no bitches?🤨" one more time see what happens

price: the enemies have taken civvies hostage and blocked off all exits and entrances to the town-" y/n: "omg tea"

Also calling price "capt. Save-a-hoe"....I wanna be saaaavvveddd ;)

If you took a shot every time you said "rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, I dive in her cervix", you'd be dead lmao

When asked if they like the military they'd say "it was either this or the psych ward so yah, I'll take it"

Quoting MPGIS constantly and no one even sort of knows what that is ("Crack. Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?")

Some detainee being interrogated is spilling some nonsense, so you hit them with "oh brother this guy stinks!" And then with the butt of your gun

"Little bad trini bitch but she mixed with China, real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to-" "SARGENT ENOUGH"

Falling asleep on team mates (minus ghost's) shoulders mostly because the most peace they get is when you're unconscious

*when y/n hears any slightly suggestive/dirty phrase*: what are we talking about 😏 (iykyk)

Same energy as: " born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2 and was hit in the head with several Rocks as a child"

Vine quotes out the wazoo, it's just awful for the rest of the team lmao

Replying to everything with "on god?"

soap: "what are you 6?" y/n: "yah 6 inches deep in your mom".....you did not walk away from that unscathed to say the least...worth it tho

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[miasmaghoul]

Ooh, I have an idea! Dewther or perhaps even Dew/Aeon human au...but Aether/Aeon is a bona fide psychic and Dew is a hard ass skeptic. Pretty please. -🔔

(Literally none of these are three sentences so far, what is wrong with me. No warnings for this one, aside from some mild language.)

"Bullshit," Dew scoffs, leaning his chair back to balance on two legs. "You don't really expect me to believe this crap, do you?"

Beside him, Aether rolls his eyes.

"Ye of little faith," he chuckles, nudging Dew's knee with his own. "I'm telling you, Dew, he's never wrong."

Across the small table, in a haze of incense smoke, sits a young man whom Dew would be hitting on in any other situation. He's handsome in a boyish way, with dark, shaggy hair and sparkling eyes in a color Dew can't quite parse. Something between blue and gray, he thinks. He has a few facial piercings - his lip, his septum, his left eyebrow - and Dew can see the edges of tattoos peeking out from the sleeves and collar of his hoodie. He hasn't stopped smiling since they entered his shop, and Dew is pretty sure the kid hasn't stopped looking at him the entire time.

"Whatever," he says with a dismissive wave. "He's probably about as accurate as that fortune cookie I got last week."

Across the table, their supposed psychic chuckles. He scoots closer and leans on his elbows, cupping his own face in both hands, and something about the look in his eye makes Dew straighten up in his chair.

"What're you so scared of?" He nods at the table, a slew of tarot cards laid out before the three of them. "That I might be right?"

Dew barks out a loud ha, shaking his head and slinking out of his chair.

"About what?" He doesn't even try to keep the incredulity from his voice, and Aether stares at the carpet. "You say I'm gonna 'run into someone unexpected'," he mocks (complete with air quotes), pointing at a card most definitely not associated with that particular prediction. "That it'll 'help to open my eyes'." Another scoff. "I got news for you, kid - I can see just fine."

He shrugs on his leather jacket, tossing his hair over his shoulder. He looks down his nose at the reader, and his disarming grin sets Dew's teeth on edge.

"C'mon, Aeth," he grumbles, tugging on his shirtsleeve and nodding towards the door. "Let's get outta here. I'm getting metaphysical cooties."

Aether rolls his eyes and offers the reader an apologetic smile. He doesn't seem put out in the slightest though, unfolding himself from his own chair and sauntering back behind the counter. Dew doesn't spare him so much as a second glance as he heads towards the door.

"I'll be right out," Aether calls, and Dew waves over his shoulder when he shoves the door open.

The crisp autumn air fills his nose, chasing away the sickly scent of incense as he sucks down a lungful. He fishes a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket as the door creaks shut, and a sudden breeze makes him turn to his right in an effort to cover the flame of his lighter.

"Behind you," a cheery voice calls just as the door slips shut, and Dew's shoulders go tight. He spins on his heel with every intention of storming back inside and -

"Fuck!"

Dewdrop slams directly into the only other person on the street - a stern looking older woman, in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer - stumbling backward as he feels something cold soak into his shirt. His back hits the shop window and he stares down, blinking at the dark brown stain now marring the fabric of his tee. The one day he wears white.

"Watch where you're going," the woman scolds him, grimacing at her now mostly empty coffee cup. "What a waste," she huffs, tossing it into a nearby trash can. With one last withering state she struts off down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the cobblestone path, and Dew feels himself getting redder by the second.

He slips back into the reader's shop, wincing when the chime rings out. At the counter, the pair of them are staring at him - Aether's eyes sit wide, darting between Dew's ruined shirt and flushed face. The reader still wears that same smile, and he gives Dew a little finger wave.

"Guess you should've kept your eyes open," he teases, and Dew stares daggers at him.

Aether doesn't make a sound as he finishes checking out, silently paying for the reading and a couple of crystals that had caught his eye. Dew doesn't stick around to see what the damage is, storming out once more and heading to the car.

This time, he looks both ways when he leaves, and the little chuckle he hears from behind the counter makes him feel like an absolute fool.

He only sits in the car for a few minutes before Aether appears, fruitlessly attempting to daub the coffee from his shirt with a handful of takeout napkins. He grumbles under his breath when Aether gets behind the wheel, and holds up a hand when he opens his mouth.

"Not. A. Word."

Aether holds up both hands in concession, sticking his bag in the back seat and turning over the ignition. He pauses for a moment with his hand on the gearshift, and with a sigh pulls out his wallet.

"Here," he says, offering Dew a small white rectangle. "Just in case."

Dew eyeballs the little piece of cardstock like it'll burn him on contact. With a heavy sigh he abandons his attempt at cleaning up, grabbing the card from Aether's hand and really fighting the urge to huck it out the window. In the back of his mind, though, the rest of the reader's so-called predictions repeat themselves, and Dewdrop sighs as he looks at the business card.

On the front, in simple block lettering, it reads:

Aeon, Psychic for Hire

Dew blinks. One name? Who was this kid? There isn't even a business name or phone number, nothing. He flips the card over, incredulous, and finds one more line of text:

Don't worry, I'll call you.

The moment he finishes reading, his phone chirps, and Dew jolts so hard he drops the card. Aether snorts beside him and Dew throws a coffee-damp napkin at his face. He fishes out his phone with a scowl - he knows it's another coincidence, just like the woman with the coffee must have been. He's going to look at his phone and see a text from Rain or Swiss, or maybe just some notification he doesn't give a shit about.

Or he could see a single line of text from an unknown number, staring back at him like some kind of cruel joke.

A clean tie attracts the soup of the day. :)

"What the fuck..."

"Hmm?" Aether looks over as he shifts into drive, pulling out into the quiet street. "What's up?"

Dew stares at the screen until it goes dark, and then shoves his phone back in his pocket. He slouches in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the window while Aether talks about the crystals he picked up.

Dew doesn't hear a word of it. He can only think about the fortune cookie he got last week, the little slip of paper still stuck to his fridge because it made him laugh until he cried:

"A clean tie attracts the soup of the day."

His phone chimes again, and Dew does not look at it.