#also tell him to leave me alone because its 3am

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

beel would stand over mc at like 4am in the mom i threw up pose, only to tell them he accidentally ate the snack they'd put away in the fridge. bros a full sleep paralysis demon.

"beel are you crying?"

"i'm really sorry mc i didn't see your name on the container and i ate it." there are actual tears because he feels bad, he pinky promised not to eat it and he did. "please don't be mad."

[winterarmyy]

Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!

[coff33andb00ks]

3am - LN & OP

lando norris x oscar piastri

summary: look at the stars, look how they shine for you warnings: angst, pining, not proofread songs: yellow and fix you by coldplay coldplay is landoscar coded wordcount: 1.3k a.n.: writing this in the hopes landoscar get out of my brain… shout out to the four moots that encouraged this. also not tagging anyone because it's 2:30am and I'm exhausted.

He can't sleep. It isn't unusual, his insomnia tend to rear its ugly head when he least needs it. He only wishes he could prepare in advance, that it was a cycle that he could predict and plan for, like his sisters with their apps that are set to warn the entire family when their PMS is approaching.

Dragging a hand over his face, he glares at the ceiling. Great. Now he's thinking about his sisters' cycles.

There's nothing for it but to just get up. No use fighting it and tossing and turning, that only leads to—

A husky moan. Teeth sinking into the lip he'd just sucked. Jaw carved from the gods' finest marble clenching.

"Lan…"

Cinnamon and mint.

Dreams that will never come true.

He presses his hands to his face, hunching over on the side of the bed. The hotel room is too small, too warm, too—

Lonely.

"Fuck this," he hisses, on his feet and snatching up his hoodie.

Torture. He willingly submits to it, knowing it will only leave him feeling hollow and alone when he returns to his room. But it's all he has. All he can cling to on a night like this, when the voices and thoughts won't stop, when the butterflies and bees are swarming inside him.

When the doubts and the worries rise over the shoddy façade of outgoing and joyful, there's only one thing that can quell them.

One person.

He's pinned his hopes all on someone who can never fully know the truth. The one person who understands him best, who knows him better than he does himself, whose name he proudly wears on his wrist.

The last person he wants to lie to, but shields the truth from.

The truth. The tiny, glowing ember of good sentiment that has somehow been crafted among the ruins of his fractured existence. He holds it closer to his heart than his very soul, fearful of it dying if revealed to a cruel world. Or, worse, an uninterested recipient.

He stares at the door. It's – he pulls his cracked phone from his pocket – almost three in the morning. Horrible friend, waking him this time of night.

A muffled sound. A footstep or a chair sliding under a table. His rounded shoulders straighten, his lowered head lifts.

He knocks. Just twice, like he always does when it's just him. If someone was with him it would be incessant. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock— fucking hell, what?!

The door opens and he breathes in shampoo and lingering steam.

The universe hates him sometimes.

"Lando?"

One day, the sound of his name in that voice won't make his heart do that weird flippy thing. One day, it won't make his lip quirk up into a half smile. One day, he won't sigh.

Not today. Not tonight.

"Osco."

Osco. Osc. Os. Oscar looks at him with that confused pinched brow that immediately relaxes.

What's it like, to really be seen?

Heartbreaking.

Oscar steps back without a word and weak legs carry him into the mirror of his room. The bed is messy and it makes his stomach clench.

Dreams.

"Sor—"

He quiets with a look. He ducks his head, picking at his fingers. He wants to apologize again, for apologizing to begin with, and he wants to apologize once more for always needing to apologize, for being such a fucking mess that he is standing here in Oscar's hotel room at 3am instead of sleeping peacefully in his own.

"Tell me about it?"

Not what's wrong. Not why are you here. Never leave me alone.

Always tell me about it. Share your worries, lean on me, I'm your friend and your teammate, you're not doing this alone.

"I don't…" Wanna talk about it. Just let me stand here. Bask in the calming glow of your star until I can pretend to be a human again. "I don't… Why are you up?"

Oscar shrugs. His smile is faint. "Had a feeling."

"Oh." Oh. Because he hears the unspoken words, feels the unspoken sentiment.

Had a feeling you'd need me, so I waited up for you.

He wants to cry because no one else cares enough to wait up for him.

"Oh."

His face looks haunted, his eyes like they may produce tears at any second.

Heart in his throat, he sits on the bed. He knows better than to prod, knows all too well that the golden man standing by his suitcase will snarl and bite when provoked. So he waits.

Watching.

He's tense, his deceptively lean frame giving off waves of stress and worry and—

"Can't sleep," Lando whispers.

Exhaustion.

He nods, even though Lando isn't looking at him. Except he is, he can see his reflection in the mirror. Stormy green eyes are watching him, as though he holds all the answers to the world's problems.

Or, if not the world's, Lando's.

Same thing.

"I'm worried about tomorrow." A humorless, breathy exhalation that passes for a chuckle. "Today."

He's been worried since Austria. His insecurities are rising after simmering since Miami when the world's stage witnessed his greatness.

If I don't keep winning how can I prove I'm worthy?

If I don't glow for the world how can anyone love me?

"I hate Silverstone," he breathes.

Not the PR lie, about how special his home track is, the memories he has of it as a child, how the crowd gives him an indescribable energy. He hates it for the expectation. It's his home race so he has to perform well. His car has to be the fastest, the strats have to be impeccable, because he can't let the people that believe in him down.

Worse, he can't let himself down, as he's been doing for two months.

Oscar's heart splinters. No one will ever be as hard on Lando as Lando. No one takes on the blame for an entire team, an entire grid, like the man turning and sinking onto the bed.

Not the golden man the fans and media see, but the shy boy Oscar knows better than he knows himself. The perfectly imperfect extroverted introvert with a heart as pure as the twinkling stars in a night sky. The favorite child still terrified of disappointing his parents, the favorite brother that cries when has to miss an important milestone.

There's a space between them and before the billions of reasons he shouldn't come to mind Oscar closes it. The stars are there, twinkling still, shielded behind a cloud. Their arms touch and he wishes he could exhale and send the clouds away. He can't though, so he sits and waits, umbrella at the ready, an open ear and a sturdy shoulder.

It's a small percentage of what he's willing to give.

It's all that's wanted.

"Tell me I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His shoulder's round and he's staring at his hands. Picking at his fingers. Knee bouncing.

Pure frenetic energy.

Oscar watches the knee and the fingers. Sees his own hand reach out.

Cool fingers, warm hand. Pale over gold.

Chins lift, heads swivel.

Mint eyes. Worry and heartbreak spill over and his own name is a whispered prayer.

Osco.

"You're not stupid," he says. The floodgate opens. "You don't have to believe that. I'll believe it for you until you're ready. I'll believe in you when you can't. I'll stay up 'til 3 so you can rest. And I'll provide the words you pretend to not remember."

That you started doing to make me feel needed. It worked. And now I know you do need me but more importantly I need you.

Golden fingers spread, slotting between his.

The clouds thin and the stars shine brighter than ever.

[kokushibosbestie]

Lil Zeyn_Syre Crush Headcanons ♡

A/N: I literally thought of these at 3am but I was too tired to grab my laptop so here we are! BTW, this isn't anything fancy, these are just me being delusional and sharing it with my luvs. <3

WARNINGS: Slight cussing, mention of death, possible spoilers for Zeyn_Syre's OCS, fluff, crushing.

Christian Dean ☆

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPEEE

I swear, he will blatantly stare at you and doesn't care if you notice

And he'd definitely flirt a LOT

the teasing is REAL. Like, prepare to be teased ALL the time

If you're not okay with being touched, he'll keep his hands to himself but there is going to be a lot of touching otherwise

Hand kisses, putting his hand on your thigh/knee, arm around you/on waist, ruffling/playing with your hair 😩😩😩

And he does this even before y'all get together bc why not?

You and his sister HAVE to get along because now you're apart of his "I would will kill for you" list 😊

Dirty jokes 24/7

Pet names: Baby, babe, love, princess/prince, gorgeous, handsome, etc.

"Damn love, you're fucking sexy. Not sure if I can keep my hands off of you baby~" AHHHHHH

COMPLIMENTS COMPLIMENTS COMPLIMENTS 😳😳😳

Tbh tho, he is traumatized from his previous crush Destiny, who died, so he's gonna deny it for a while

So be gentle pls, he just wants to be loved without having to lose someone for once

SUPPPPPPERRRR PROTECTIVEEE

If another guy even LOOKS at you in a flirty way, he's going to death glare them until they leave typa protective

So imagine what would happen if someone touched you 💀

if you tell him that someone did something to you that hurt you emotionally or physically, even if it was 3 years ago; he's gonna find them and they're gonna go missing- 😀

And, no matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he will still throw you over his back and carry you around like you don't weigh anything- 😘

Or hold you bridal style

He will listen to you rant for hours, just listening to you talk

little "mhm,"'s "yeah?"'s and "hm"'s while you're talking

and he will never, EVER cut you off while your ranting and will only speak when you're finished

AJSMDKWKCNWKQKDBCJFBWLFIQBCKRKQB-

You fell first, he fell harder ☆

Micah ▨

Fuc me emo boy fuc me emo boy

AHEM

SOFTIE AHHJHHFDKKDEKQKNAMW

Sorry-

He's so adorable

Turns BRIGHT RED if you even stand a foot away. 🤗

Headpat slut

Also enjoys listening to you talk

Will let you touch him, but doesn't really touch you

The most he'll do is hold your hand and pat your head

And an occasional hug here and there

But he's the jealous af kinda protective

Writes poems and songs about you but will never share them with you because he thinks you don't like him

Compliments here and there

He just calls you by your name or a preferred nickname, no pet names

You're the sun to his moon, no matter if you're an extrovert or introvert 😚

When you do stupid shit, he'll sigh loudly and ask you why your doing that 😭

ABSOLUTELY HAS A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST WITH OVER 400 SONGS THAT REMIND HIM OF YOU

Stay With Me, Dandelions, So This Is What Love Feels Like, etc.

He listens to that playlist with headphones on for hours in his room alone, just thinking about you

Boy is in loveeee 😌

Teaches you how to play the guitar

WILL NOT BE THE ONE WHO CONFESSES

but

if he does,

Its gonna be while you are talking gushing over your crush, which is him, but you don't tell him that part

"I'm sorry but I don't want to hear you gush over someone else like that! I want to be the one you're talking about! Why can't you see how much I like you what I'd do for you??"

He realizes what he said and apologized, before trying to leave you better not let him leave 😒

He fell first and harder ▨

Zeyn Dean ✿

Idk if her last name is Dean but I'm assuming so bc that's her brother's last name

She has a casual crush, but doesn't think too much about it unless you get close

Becomes a little quieter around you than normal 😀

LOVES HUGS

She loves going to the mall with you or teaching you how to play a sport

Study sessions if you go to school together

Will always remember every special date bc she's a good friend

SUPPPPPEERRRRRR EXTROVERTED AND LOVING 😘

Frequently makes jokes

Y'all be laughing at the worst dad jokes ever

MAKEOVERS AND SLEEPOVERS ALL THE TIME!!! 😍

Likes playing video games

Yk how little kids will do the most simple, easy thing to do and excitedly say "Mommy, daddy, look what I just did! Did you see that???"

Well that's her

If her brother approves of you, then she'll probably not confess. 😅

You're her best friend before you're anything else though

FRIENDSHIP FIRST 😎

Not the jealous type, she's a little too nice sometimes.

Singing Call Me Maybe, Rather Be, Stereo Hearts, and other upbeat songs all the time 😚

But she will get a little paranoid at times and calls you to make sure you're okay.

Pet names: Sweetheart, sunshine, and just a nickname

Holding hands: yes

Leaning on shoulder: Yes

Holding hands: YES

MY GIRL LOVES STARBURST AND TWIZLERS SO U BETTER GET HER SOME

anyways

She fell first, you fell harder and then she fell even HARDER. ✿

* * * These characters and art are NOT MINE, they Belong to Zeyn_Syre on Tiktok and YouTube. The writing is prompt and writing is mine, please do not claim, copy, or use it without my permission. Thank you! <3

[byechristopher]

loveeed your fwb chris headcanons can you do a confession fic ab it that is all angsty and shit where he’s high and confesses or where reader confesses? whatever you want

I Want More.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: thank you so much for the request! I hope you all like it, cuties.🤍 Mwuah. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, nothing too much!

"No strings attached, okay? You can hook up with other people if you want, it's none of my business."

"I wouldn't actually mind being with you, you know?"

"Well, yes, I'm just.. relationships are not for me. Sorry."

The words that he said to me when we first started appear in my head every single time he is in my sight. It could be because it hurt so much that I cannot forget, it could also be for the better – because to get hurt is the only way to move on, apparently. Whichever it was, it hurt.

His hand wakes me up from my thoughts when it goes up to my hair, stroking it, "wanna meet tonight?" Chris whispers in my ear, our whole friend group is next to us but he doesn't really seem to care anyway.

"Yes. My house." I nod and he smiles, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.

And tonight comes. He's all over me, inside me, I kiss him everywhere, he's rough and I love it, I pull his hair, he squeezes me, I scratch his skin, it's messy. One of those nights, that we both need to let it out. Once we're done, he pulls me into a big hug, his hand bringing mine close to his mouth so that he can kiss it.

"You're beautiful." he says and my heart beats a little faster at that. It's amazing; that power that he has on me.

"So are you." I whisper.

He leaves. My hearts shatters.

Another day, we're hanging out again. He's stealing kisses with every chance that he gets, my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. He caresses my thighs under the blanket, he plays with my fingers.

I tell him I want him. I whisper.

"My house, 8PM." he says.

And again, 8PM comes, I'm at his house, he's alone. He takes me by the hand and makes me follow him to his room – he's got candles all over the room, flowers. Is this a dream?

I can't wait, I can't keep my hands to myself. I slowly hug him from behind, kissing from the nape of his neck, all the way down to his lower back, undressing him very slowly. He does the same thing to me too. The night goes on, he's so slow, so gentle, he's filling me with his love and its so overwhelming that I want to cry, he seems overwhelmed too. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear and touches me with ways no one has ever done before. He tells me he loves me. I hold on to him and we both look desperate and filled with love for each other as he makes love to me.

When we're done, the dream is over. He's still holding me, he's still whispering his usual i love you's in my ears but there's something inside me that weighs me down, something that can utterly destroy me, "Chris. I think we need to stop this thing between us." he freezes.

"What? Why?" he whispers.

"I don't feel like doing it anymore, sorry. It's for the better." I try to be as cold as possible, because if I actually say all the things I want to say, I feel like I will scream and cry till my voice is lost.

It's been quite a few days since we last spoke and every time I think about it, the image of him covering himself with his blanket, looking devastated when I left, always comes to mind. I feel bad but I need to be selfish this time.

A call rudely interrupts my thoughts and I sigh – a call? It's 3AM. I check the screen and I see his name. My hearts races.

"Hello?"

"Come outside. I want to see you." he almost slurs. He's either drunk, or high. Or both.

"Go back home, Chris. I wanna sleep."

"I'm not leaving. Please." he sniffles.

I sigh and hang up. I walk towards the door and I stand there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he is. With his hoodie and his jeans. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess.

"You'll get cold. Go home." I whisper and he comes closer.

"I don't care. I wanted to be with you." his voice is hoarse.

"Why?" I look at him, hugging myself because shit, it actually is very cold.

"We need to talk." he nods to himself.

"We have nothing to talk about, Chris. You made it very clear that you wanted nothing but sex. I did, too. But I knew I felt something deeper." I say and he comes closer but I stop him, "no. I am talking. You kept messing with my head, making love to me, getting all romantic and shit, bringing flowers everywhere – that's not how friends with benefits are, Chris." I sigh.

He chews on his bottom lip nervously, "I don't know how to do this. I thought you liked how things were." he says.

"I did! But it got too much for me, Chris. I want more. And until you grow a pair and admit to yourself that you are able to fall in love too, that you want this as much as I do, I want nothing to do with you." I clear my throat.

He clenches his jaw and I notice that his eyes are glistening, like he is about to cry, "so is this the end?"

"I suppose so. Yes." I desperately try to gold back my own tears. He nods and turns around. He's not moving just yet but I can't watch him leave again, so I close the door behind him and I feel my world crumbling.

What was I thinking? That I would change him? That he would finally admit that he loves me too? That we would live the dream together? That he would just give me a kiss and tell me that he wants to be with me? How embarrassing.

That's it.

The next day, my heart hurts like a bitch, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest for once. Maybe it's because I finally told him how I felt. And maybe because I got an answer, too – he doesn't want to be with me. It hurts, but it's an answer.

A knock on the door wakes me up again and I walk towards it, only to see an envelope. Someone must've pushed it inside. I get a little scared to open the door right away and I don't have a peephole so I just decide to open the envelope.

"I decided that since I have never been able to talk about my feelings, because I'm too much of a fucking coward, I will just write everything down and I will have to find the courage to give it to you.

I don't know why I've got such a problem expressing my feelings like a fucking adult should, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, let alone losing you because of me being a coward. So this letter is for you (I know how much you like all this sappy shit and worst part is, you made me like them too).

I've been in love with you since the day we started "officially" being friends with benefits. You know I couldn't keep my hands off of you, or my eyes. I would get jealous and possessive because you know I never want anyone else to touch you like I do. Or see you like I do. I made love to you because this was the only way to express my love for you – your heart would beat so fast and I would want to cry from how much you filled me with love and passion. Is that normal? I honestly don't know.

Anyways, for an asshole who doesn't know how to speak properly, I think I've written enough. If you think that this letter is me finally growing a pair, then please open the door because it's really fucking cold.

PS – this time my i love you's are changed."

I am ugly crying by the time I finish the letter, but I don't care because I open the door and Chris is outside, crying as well.

"I can't lose you. I promise, I will try for you. I will do anything for you." he whispers.

I quickly throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, hugging him so tightly that if I was stronger, he would stop breathing for sure, "I love you, Chris."

"I am in love with you too."

"Your handwriting still sucks."

"Fuck off."

[shona22]

Sterek fic rec: October edition (2024) 🐺 ⚓

Each month, I'll be sharing some of my favorite fics (and I'll make sure to backup and download them for safekeeping). Please note that I have a soft spot for darker themes, so warnings and tags will be plentiful - reader discretion advised!

Want specific recs? Feel free to send me an ask with your preferred tropes or genres, and I'll do my best to find some from my bookmarks. 

Pay by the hour, but don't leave so soon by JettieBettie 

"This is the last time," he tells her, heading toward the door.

"That’s what you always say. But I end up wearing his face for you again and again.”

Note: an incredibly hot pwp. I won't spoil much, but it does have an amazing Stiles voice regardless of being so short. 

___

Step towards me, step away by Areiton 

The truth is, he’s been more than a little bit in love with Derek Hale for a long time.

Note: A compelling exploration of an unconventional relationship. Complex characters, angst, and favourite tropes (Derek angsting over age gap, Kate comparisons) lead to a satisfying ending. Worth the read!

___

I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter 

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

Note: Gods. Another one my favourite trope, where Derek gets his alpha spark back because of Stiles. The line, the one which had me gnawing my pillow at 3AM:

“Jesus, Stiles. You never stopped being mine, did you?”

___

Somebody that I used to know by Percybyssheshelly

Stiles and Derek have been together for months.

The trouble is, they weren't yesterday.

Note: short, but packs a punch. If you're having a bad day and want some relatively short angst with happy ending fics, this one's for you. 

___

We live (not as we wish to) as we can by Endrversed

“I’m not a closet case,” Derek repeats, teeth gritted.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles taunts, daring Derek with his eyes. “You coulda fooled me.”

“I’m not – gay.”

Derek spits that word out. Stiles snorts, no humour in it.

“Sure. You’re totally straight, dude. You just get all up in my personal space every time we’re alone. Stare at my lips any time you think no one’s looking. Well, I’m looking, Derek, and I know what you want. I know what you really want is to bend me over and fuck me.”

Derek is a closeted frat boy, and Stiles gets under his skin. Enemies to fuckbuds to <3

Note: Heed the tags. After DBC, I've been craving closeted frat boy Derek with the perfect Stiles voice. This one delivers. Endversed's mastery seals the deal.

___

UST (an unfortunate series of tropes) 

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

Note: Amazing Stiles voice + mature Derek. Re-read worthy! Accidental soul bonding and more - my ultimate tropes. 10/10, left craving more.

___

Stronger in numbers by bloodwrites

Stiles doesn't want to be the Alpha's mate, he doesn't want to be locked up for his own protection, and he's damn sure he doesn't want to be dealing with blood and werewolf parts on a weekly basis, but somehow that's what his life has become.

That's not going to change, unless he can convince Derek to trust Scott and the hunters, because it's the only way they're going to chase the Alpha Pack out of town.

Of course, that only solves two out of three.

Note: please heed ALL the tags. Also, remember, Derek’s somewhat of a certified jerk in this. And yet, somehow, that's the fic’s appeal. It honestly has the feels of a classic 2010-2014 fics, and that makes me eat it up even more. Also, it's HOT. 

___

Werewolf love songs, vol 1 by aggybird. 

Peter decides to use the power of Barry Manilow's music to make Stiles and Derek fall in love.

Meanwhile, there are monsters and stuff, and Stiles and Derek are stupid.

Note: amazing fic very close to my heart. I love meddling uncle Peter, and the gradual progression of their relationship. It's also such a classic early sterek fic, and like the other ones, I'm always starving for it. It's funny and incredible with Stiles’ voice. 

___

Rapture, sweet rapture (won't you put your hands on me) by queerly_it_is

Somewhere in the stringy mesh of his overactive brain cells, Stiles is sure there must be memories of what it was like to not have a totally possessive creeper with a leather fixation for an adopted brother.

Note: please heed the warnings. It's pseudo-incest! 

[madsworld15]

Chapter 4 Section 2 of Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me.

QAF Brian/Justin. Asexual Spectrum Representation. Series Retelling AU.

Thanks always to @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol for supporting me! Enjoy!

~~~~~

Brian watched Justin leave with his bag in hand. He wanted to tell the young man that he cared about him, that they were still good. He needed to tell Justin that he was simply in a terrible headspace because he’d been forced to spend the day with his mother attending her extremely homophobic church. Brian knew all of these things should’ve been explained and that Justin would understand if he did, but his ego wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he was left in his loft alone but desperately wishing he wasn’t. For the first time in his life he hated that he wasn’t sharing his personal space with someone else. He wanted Justin to come back so much it hurt. He needed Justin almost as much as he needed air.

Woah. That’s a dangerous thought.

Brian rubbed his hand across his mouth and decided he would much rather be anywhere else right now, but he didn’t know where he could go at 3am. Most of his haunts were starting to close up shop. He needed a drink, but he also kind of wanted a bowl of warm, carb-filled pasta.

Without another thought he headed to his Jeep so he could drive over to Deb’s. He was sure that was where Justin might’ve gone too, but he wasn’t going to push things with the young blonde. No, right now he needed his mom — the only true mom he’d ever known.

She opened her door with a stern look on her face after his second rap. Without a word she let him in. Upon closing the door behind him she reached up and smacked the back of his head. Brian didn’t even complain because he knew he deserved it. The smack also let him know that she knew everything that had happened, which meant he wouldn’t have to explain himself.

Brian trudged into the kitchen where Vic sat at the table. He had a mug of tea in front of him while he picked at a slice of cake.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Vic looked up at Brian, “What’s your excuse, Kinney.”

Brian shrugged and sat down. “Take your pick.”

“Saint Joan or fucking with the one person who believes in your goodness beyond reason. Yeah I’d say either one is going to piss you off and make you look like a shithead.” Vic raised his mug to the younger man. “But we both know it’s all a self-deprecating front to keep yourself safe.”

Debbie walked into the room and gave a scoff. She crossed to the fridge and pulled out a Tupperware.

“Chicken Baked Ziti?” Debbie offered the Tupperware toward Brian who silently nodded.

She dished some into a bowl and threw it in the microwave. Brian knew from the silence that she was going to let him have it once she was ready. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to and he hoped she’d let him eat some pasta first.

A few minutes later, Debbie sat down next to him and slid the bowl of warm cheesy pasta in front of him. Brian immediately dug in and without having to ask, Debbie also placed a beer in front of him.

“I know seeing your mother is its own special brand of torture, but to take it out on Justin…” Debbie started once he was halfway done with his food.

“Stay out of it.” Brian turned to glare at her.

“Now you listen here you little shit.” Debbie wagged her finger at him. “You came to my home which gives me every right to protect that boy! I care about him. All you care about…”

Brian pushed the bowl away and reached for the beer. He knew she knew him better than anyone, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Getting my dick sucked. Yes, Emmett and Justin made it very clear. Can we please talk about ANYTHING else?!”

“You seem to have forgotten that you came to my house. And I don’t want to see Justin hurt.” Debbie practically yelled at him.

Brian found his mood teetering closer to annoyance than sympathy or regret for his actions.

“Well, that’s life. Better he learn it now.” Brian shrugged, putting his wall up hoping it would stop Debbie or Vic but it didn’t.

“I know you don’t actually feel that way.” Vic muttered under his breath. Barely drawing attention to himself. Brian looked toward him with a glare.

Part of him had hoped coming here would mean comfort carbs and an understanding presence. While the other part, the part he was most at war with, hoped Debbie would read him the riot act and allow him the ability to show how awful he actually felt about his actions.

“You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you? Well not me, honey. I’ve known you too long and regrettably too well.” Debbie took on a softer, more motherly tone. “And no matter how hard you try to deny it, I can tell you care as much about him as he cares about you.”

Brian bit his lip and looked over to make eye contact with the woman. He fiddled with the label on the bottle before him.

“Only you ain’t got the big hairy cajones to say it.” Debbie fixed him with a knowing stare.

“Oh well maybe I can borrow yours.” Brian gave her his best sarcastic eye roll and drank from the bottle.

“Yeah well hey, whatever it takes.” She smirked and paused before continuing. “Do admit that you love him. And I know that you do. Despite all your efforts to never let another heart touch yours. That’s assuming you have one.”

Brian leaned over and hung his head. Everything she was saying was correct and he knew it. But that didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“That little persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire. And that’s what’s happened, huh.” Debbie reached out and smoothed her hand over Brian’s hair. It was a level of intimacy he only allowed from a select number of people.

“Admit the truth.” Brian looked at Debbie, unsure if she was really that perceptive and was going to say what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about since Justin moved in. “You love him, don’t you?”

Instead of answering, Brian leaned his head onto his hands and let out the breath he’d been holding for the last few seconds. Debbie had proved once again that she saw deeper under his walls than he would like, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“I thought so. Then tell him. Tell him what you could never tell Michael.” And with the mention of her son, Debbie motioned her eyes up to indicate Justin was upstairs.

Brian took one more swig from the bottle, sucked in his lips, and then stood up. Vic gave him a wicked grin of mischief and encouragement. It was the most unserious thing about the whole situation and was what spurred Brian on in the end. He walked out of the kitchen and skipped up the stairs.

Upon reaching the landing, Brian paused. He knew Justin was mad at him and he wouldn’t be surprised if the young man didn’t want to see him. But, he was there already, he might as well try. He knocked on Michael’s door and his heart ached at the voice that responded.

“Debbie, I know you’re worried but I’m fine.”

Brian leaned his head against the door and sighed. He quietly responded.

“I’m not Debbie, but I’d say you don’t sound fine.”

Brian’s heart clenched at the soft sniffles he could hear from the other side.

“Brian?” Justin’s voice was tinged with sadness and hope all at once. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Brian deserved that, but it didn’t make him hate it any less.

“Can I please come in so we can talk. I know I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

Brian stepped back to avoid falling forward when Justin opened the door suddenly.

“Careful, that sounds perilously close to an apology.” Justin bit his lip and gave a half smile while looking up through his lashes.

“Yeah, well I’m not totally opposed to apologies when I’m wrong.” Brian gave a shy smile. “I asked you to move in because of your attack, but that’s not why I want you to stay.”

Justin stepped away from the door letting Brian in. The brunette watched as the blonde worked through Brian’s statement in his head. It was clear that the younger man wanted to forgive him but was also wary of being made a fool by doing so.

“Okay so you want me to stay, but something has to change.” Justin turned to look Brian in the eye, “I won’t go back to feeling invisible.”

Brian couldn’t find his voice so he simply nodded until he could.

“This doesn’t mean we are suddenly married. Because I don’t do that shit.” Brian reached out to put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “It means that I like your company and I want to be with you. I’ve gotten used to having you around that I don’t particularly mind it anymore.”

“Wow. You are really selling me on your commitment.” Justin smirked and gave a small cheeky giggle.

“Watch yourself.” Brian volleyed back.

Justin stepped closer to Brian and more into his touch. “So what does this mean for us?”

“It means I promise I won’t ever bring a trick back to the loft again.”

“Okay.” Justin nodded, his eyes serious.

“Also, if I’m out late just know that I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And when I come home…” Brian paused, the words catching in his throat. “I’ll also be doing exactly what I want to be doing. Coming home to you.”

Justin nodded, and then he leaned in for a kiss. Once he pulled away he gave his response.

“I want some things too. You can have sex with anyone you want as long as it’s not more than once, and no names or numbers exchanged.”

Brian nodded easily, “Deal.”

“And I want you to promise that no matter what you are doing you always come home by 2.”

Brian’s gaze bore into Justin’s “By 4.”

“Three.”

Brian turned away from Justin slightly and then came back to him in resignation. “Fine, by 3.”

Justin pulled him in for another searing kiss before saying more.

“And one more thing.” Brian looked at Justin with sincerity while his brain argued that all these rules were more than he could muster.

“You don’t kiss anyone on the mouth. Except me.” Justin quirked his eyebrow as if challenging Brian’s ability to agree to all these stipulations.

Brian gave a small shake of his head, smirked, and then grabbed Justin’s face in both his hands and planted a deep kiss on his lips. Brian put all his nonstated love and emotions into that kiss. He wanted to be sure Justin understood he would follow these rules and any others if it meant keeping Justin.

After they pulled apart, Brian found himself grabbing Justin’s hand and leading him toward the bed.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” Brian asked in a small voice.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” Justin responded, his tongue in his cheek.

Brian tucked his lips in as he smiled at Justin. He knew that in this moment he could be vulnerable and Justin wouldn’t judge him for it. So, he squeezed the hand that held Justin’s before he responded.

“I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Justin reached up to cup Brian’s cheek with his free hand. “Then come sleep with me.”

Then they exchanged a kiss, chaste but still filled with emotion. Brian leaned his forehead on Justin’s and closed his eyes. With a sigh he let go and pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his shoes and jeans.

The two got into Michael’s old twin sized bed, practically lying on top of each other, but somehow making it work. At this point, Brian’s nakedness didn’t make Justin uncomfortable. However, Brian was conscientious enough to make sure his thigh was all that made contact with Justin.

“I had to sit next to my mother today as her priest spouted off about loving your fellow man. And her interpretation of that was to tell me how sexual deviants were going to hell. She didn’t say homosexuals, but it was heavily implied.” Brian finally whispered to the dark room as the silence between them got to be too much.

“Your mom sounds a treat.” Justin muttered, his hand finding Brian’s and grabbing hold.

“That’s Saint Joan.” Brian sighed as he placed a soft kiss to the top of the young man’s head.

“I’m sorry.” Justin replied. His voice was filled with kindness and it made Brian appreciate the blonde that much more.

“That’s life. You can’t choose your parents.” Brian shrugged.

Nothing else was said between them as Brian and Justin both slipped into dreamland.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

KER!!!!

Hi Ker. Its me, again. Don’t you worry about accidentally deleting my ask I did read your fic also at like… 3am LOL. I’m going to bullet point what I asked before I forget so sorry if this feels a bit rushed and kind of rude

- say don’t go (taylor swift reference? If it is I SEE YOU SWIFTIE! (Maybe swiftie? Idk if ur a swiftie but i see the ref regardless)

- this was me begging for a part 2 if you’re down to write a part 2 because i desperately wanted to know what happens next

- i was also wondering if what you did was perhaps intentional, though. The angst leaving us all on a cliffhanger. Did you leave it open ended on purpose?

- because in that case i get it but still humbly request a part 2… on my knees

- does she wake up and survive the surgery? Where do they go from there if she does?

- does she NOT survive the surgery? Where does Spencer go from there??

- but once again i don’t want you to feel pressured by any means to write a part 2. If it comes to you it comes to you, if it doesn’t that’s ok! You already gained a new fan of your writing and your work 💕

- oh i also wanted to tell u idk if i said this in my comment but I LEGIT THOUGHT that when she was standing in the doorway and he was standing there in his suit and tie that she bought him- THAT SHE DIED AND WAS A GHOST. LIKE STRAIGHT UP. I WAS LIKE DAMN SHE DEAD? But she wasn’t dead- her heart was just broken and crumpled up on the floor and what lay in the space between them

Anyway I think I’m rambling again. These aren’t really bullet notes 🤣

OK BYE YOU’LL BE SEEING ME IN YOUR COMMENTS REAL SOON 🫡😗

OMG you are such an angel for doing this😭😭😭 and don't worry, it's not rude at all!

First and foremost, yes! I am a swifitie🫶 The entire fic is written while I had the song on repeat and specifically based on these two lines:

And I'm yours, but you're not mine I said, "I love you." You say nothin' back

So, if you want to reread it while listening to the song, it might make the angst angstier (? is that even a word lol)

Now, my favorite part of your ask. I did, in fact, leave it open-ended because I love to leave readers asking themselves what they want the ending to be. One thing I want my readers to know is that I will always leave things on a cliffhanger or open-ended because I myself cannot decide what I want. The reader recovering from the surgery does not mean things will go well with them and Spencer. So, it really is up to everyone whether they want her to go or to stay. I got a request to make a part 2 where the reader dies. It was a pleasant ask (and very tempting, tbh), but I left it for everyone's own interpretation. And I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on that.

But of course, sometimes I do fold and write part 2s and more if I feel like it. Although, I love most of my fics as a stand-alone. Anyway, this might be a bit of an advertisement, but I'll be posting some unfinished drafts that are open-ended because I'm too indecisive. It would really be amazing if I get replies that tell me what they think happened and will happen. I already posted one called Execution Style somewhere around my blog. It's vague. And too short. So might not be as great.

Moving onnnnn lol

The ghost part had me chuckling when I woke up so I truly appreciate you sending the ask again. I kind of wanted the story to seem like it's going back and forth from one scene to another. It's a bit difficult to portray, so I understand why you thought she was a ghost😂😂😂

I officially welcome you to my crazy department and hope that you enjoy your stay

— love lots x

[leaahhh]

here are some of the songs that soundtracked my summer

maps by the yeah yeah yeahs because i have a secret theory that you must pay attention to the songs that play in the background of a first date because they might be premonitions. it was one of the first that came on the day we met. you were quieter then and everyone knew your name. i overslept far past my welcome that first night and maybe that should have been more telling than the song. maybe i shouldn’t have given myself over so quickly. maybe i should’ve listened to tyler. maybe maybe maybe a lot of things. still, i laughed the whole way home. my kind's your kind, i'll stay the same.

acolyte by slaughter beach, dog because it is one of the only unabashed love songs i can listen to several times in a row without recoiling. it is the best song to wash the dishes to, to walk into the sunset with, to believe in kinder things because of. 

group four by massive attack because the man i was seeing at the time played it once at the bar he worked at. i visited several nights a week, it became part of my routine: something to rush around for, a soft place to land. i was mesmerized from the jump, it was all i could fixate on for its full eight minute runtime — the song and also him, flitting back and forth in the dim red light. (i played it for S a few days later, saying it was the best thing i’d ever heard — he didn’t like it, said it was scary.) i remember going into the bathroom and stabilizing myself in the mirror prematurely thinking that i’d miss coming here when it all ended. each time i was met with eyes a little more vacant. a self-fulfilling prophecy. (i’m at a different bar alone now writing this. your coworker spotted me, came over, and reminded me that you’re working there tonight. i shook my head and he said “oops” three times.)

lost angel nights by james blake and alphabet city by the national because they say the quiet part loud. they made me feel justified in my self-abandonment and my masterful act of pretending to be okay with distance and mistreatment. “away from me is just fine.” “if anybody asks, i’ll say you’re coming back.” “i’ll still be here when you come back from space.” it’s not true. it shouldn’t be. but love is this way sometimes. 

montana by youth lagoon because J brought it up around 3am at a bar in bushwick and before then i hadn’t thought of it in many, many years. she joked that i should play it next to your ear while you were asleep that night because it might rewire your brain. i laughed hard then but later it made me want to cry. a couple months after, her and i sat on a couch backstage with T before he played a sold out show in brooklyn. i told him i think i might’ve met you just so i could meet her. i do believe it. 

this house by japanese breakfast because a friend posted it on her instagram story right after going through a bad breakup and i listened to it eating dinner alone at the neighborhood fast casual korean restaurant staring out the open front door while hot air hit my face and it felt like i was hearing music for the first time. what if one day i don’t know you? what if one day you leave? i could sense it was coming but i came over for a kiss despite it all. i really learned about liquid courage with you and i probably never needed to befriend it so closely. when we were together, my head was always spinning; my nose always stung. 

very overdue goodbye by runo plum because my friends all know i prefer dragged out, tortuous storylines over clean-cut endings and rightfully shake their heads. i’ve never gotten over a thing in my life, i tell david in a frankly unhinged voice message that closes with me laughing pathetically, squeezing in at the end that i hope the baby is healthy. it is the last friday night of summer. he says that 26 is the new 18, that i am the one making bad decisions, *i* am not the bad decision. he tells me to stand up for myself. it takes me several weeks but i listen. you made being alone feel so clean. i see you more as a pile-up of my own grief. 

to me it was by samia because the guitar gives me goosebumps all over. eliza and i have used the format “everything with ____ is totally fine/don’t freak out, it’s gonna be alright” back and forth all month to punctuate every nervous interaction. we ended up being wrong a lot of the time, there was absolutely reason to freak out. samia was right though; maybe i didn’t need tequila for that. someday i think i’ll look back and remember this as a good time. right now it just hurts. 

blue flower by mazzy star because it reminds me of my favorite line in that other song that makes me think about that other guy: i had a fever when i met you; now you make me cool. you were a superstar in your own private movie and i wanted just a minor part. ang is the first person to call it by its name: cruelty. i sweltered and seethed while you slipped away. 

street rat by blondshell because i fell back into my old habits as quickly as i’d tried to kick them as soon as you entered the scene. if a doctor put her hands over my liver she would tell me my resentment’s getting…bigger. i felt a lump, hard and unforgiving, growing there. my back tooth turned brown and started rotting the day you disappeared. Z yelped at me from across the street when he saw me and said i’m withering in front of his eyes. it’s a race to see who dies first and you’ve got five years on me. (as i’m typing this, the bar has begun playing sepsis by blondshell. it feels almost evil. it really should’ve taken a whole lot less to turn me off.) 

split up by boyish because i could have said all of this word-for-word in that text message. i kept it short for both of our dignities. 

aspirin - slight return by tropical fuck storm because christian responded with just the link to that after i ranted for 5 minutes straight about my rapid descent into madness. it was a perfect response. i’m a harrowing rest stop for the men i date. disarming enough to trip them up. not enough to make them stay. 

moon song by phoebe bridgers because after three years of knowing it so well, i heard it entirely differently one night and it nearly rendered me immobile. you asked to walk me home but i had to carry you. you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you. i would have stuck around, by the way. like a dog with a bird at your door.

[heartfucksmouth]

not to sound like a broken record cliché, but motherhood is truly the most difficult and beautiful thing I've ever experienced.

I'm constantly fascinated by my child, I can't get enough of kissing his face and head and smelling his scent, holding his tiny hands or massaging his little toes. I'm in love with his bright curious eyes and the glimpse of a smile passing over his face.

and I'm also overwhelmed and frustrated when he cries for hours and won't sleep for more than 20 minutes all night. I'm terrified when he suddenly spits up so much formula it comes out his nose and he can't breathe for the longest 10 seconds of my life. I'm anxious when he isn't near me, and I get waves of distrust washing over me whenever someone else is caring for him so I can sleep. I have moments where I question what I've done, whether I've ruined my life - or his, I search my mind for ways of escaping and I scare myself with scenarios of grandparents taking custody of him bc I'm unfit. I make myself cry picturing Myles trying to raise him by himself without me.

6 weeks post partum. 1 month and 11 days. I'm finally asking for my meds to be adjusted bc I feel I'm barreling head first into PPD/PPA and my high blood pressure is back. I just got a new therapist that also is a parent by my request, and she called me today bc she wanted to check on me. my mom has been here most days to let me catch up on sleep, but she talks about her life and freezes when I have moments of anxiety and actually look to her supposed parenting experience for comfort and help. it wounds me deep. and myles mom takes Aidan for hours at a time, so I can sleep or shower or eat dinner with myles, but its not always to my liking because I fear she'll hold it over our heads someday - or she secretly thinks we're incapable of being parents. I get help with Aidan every day (while others do it all by themselves) and yet I feel so alone and like no one will come to my rescue when i need it. all the offers of help during my pregnancy seem to have disappeared. I wish friends would offer to come instead of the mothers I have relationship issues with. but then... who are my friends, really? my therapist says how I'm lucky I have all this support but it feels like a gut punch and I need to tell her next time that I don't feel like I have support at all. when I go into panic attacks, I message multiple people reaching out, asking for encouragement, for validation from other parents. but I don't have anyone checking in on me or offering to get together or even offering to help in a physically present way. besides my damn mom. my therapist and psych nurse are like "I'm always here for you, reach out" but they don't mean "text me at 3am if you're having a hard time" - they mean "call my extension and leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can"

the pendulum of my emotions is swinging so wildly and I just want some balance. I keep getting told everything I'm experiencing is normal, but if that's the case, there's something very fucking wrong with the way we treat motherhood, pregnancy, all of it (and there is).

I hope a med adjustment will help me, and I'm trying to reach out and build a village of my own. everyone talks about mental health, and recently PPD etc but everyone is burnt out and dealing with their own overwhelm and everyone is a breath away from a crisis. it all just feels crazy. I want to feel hopeful again. I want to feel like the world isn't on fire.

[jupio]

tl;dr my uni house sucks absolute fucking ass and its been building but one things happened today and it has. tipped me over the edge. so its either write it out or scream

i just want. one fucking week in this house where noone does anything that makes me want to beat the shit out of them

we had a couple silverfish earlier this week so i put my houseplants on a window sill in the shared hall outside my room because of the damp. this was 4 days ago and i havent watered them since so they should be bone dry. 

last night i went to bed first but the other people who live here decided to stay up and get drunk

i got my plants back in today because there havent been anymore silverfish and went to water and prune them but when i leant in closer to the first one i noticed two things. 

1. the soil was soaked through and messy 2. it fucking stank of piss

so yknow i dont want to jump to conclusions but what other fucking conclusions are there here. someone in this god fucking awful house thought it would be funny to take one of my plants and piss in it for fucking what??? for the laughs???

theyve poured wine on my dishes, they broke my kitchen scales, theyve screamed and tried to break and kick in my door at 4 in the morning when high on ket, theyve made fun of me to my face, theyve made fun of my hobbies, they make snide comments where i can tell i’m being made fun of but i cant work out what i’ve said wrong, theyve slammed doors at every hour of the fucking night for weeks, they scream up and down the stairs at 3am, they call me boring, they call me stupid and autistic and unfunny and bitchy and nit-picky and overly sensitive and i am so fucking SICK of trying to live here

every day i am masking so hard that i’m even more irritable and i go to bed exhausted and full of anxiety because i know!! i know everytime i leave a room they all look at each other like oh thank god ollie’s gone we can finally be offensive and i’m not sleeping properly, and i’m always on edge in my own home. i cant relax here ever

and idk. someone else might take this less seriously and brush it off. but i cant and i’m tired of trying to explain to them that maybe its funny to prank each other but when you fuck with my stuff it’s not funny, it completely derails my expectations of things and especially with adhd my reactions to things can be out of proportion. so its not funny at all. im just so angry that im shaking and i want to beat the shit out of someone. so no, i dont take well to it, and im not gonna laugh and deal with it, im gonna cry, and react like a kid. and then noone is having any fun because everyone acts like its so awkward that im upset when really they could just be normal fucking decent people and leave me the hell alone.

and now i have to try and deal with this and i have no fucking clue how im even meant to approach it. “hi guys, just wondering who pissed in my beloved trailing ivy? it was £25 so would love some financial compensation and also for you to hold still so i can break your fucking nose!” 

i dont even know if i should just leave it because its just not worth it. i dont even care if im a pushover at this point i am so. tired. of trying to make them respect me as a person. thats what it feels like, it feels like they dont even see me as a person they just see me as a fucking circus freak.

the plants still in my room. i dont even know what to do with that. i dont want to touch it because just touching the pot made my hands smell. so just everytime i look up i get upset and scared and angry all over again because its right there. and im 90% sure i know who did it but if i confront him about it he’ll do that thing where people go cmon its just a joke why are you being so sensitive? jeez, lighten up its not a big deal and ill look stupid and sensitive and different like i always do

ive got 4 more months of living here and then i am fucking gone and i am never speaking to these people again. 

[magicshopaholic]

I just read your reply, just so you know these interactions always make me giddy. 

I thought I should inform you of something that just happened that you might find funny…….. This is a bit long so I am sorry.... Basically a drabble at this point.....😫

I daydream a lot these days, so my current storyline is producer Dalia dating childhood bestie mingyu from seventeen. Random name, but I call all Y/Ns in my mind or fics that atm because I don’t want it to be me lol. In a month or two I’ll find a different name. But the story always has a life of its own and Dalia ends up on side quests. 

So since she’s friends with Namjoon and Yoongi (because of course she is, met them during producer events cause she’s a fucking G), she’s met Kaya when she was on a trip to SK and they’ve bonded over her research and Dalia’s work to improve gender issues in her country (lol I dream big, Dalia would apparently be top 5 richest producers there if she didn’t spend so much money on social causes hahah imagine. I have extensive storylines of all the social work she does like what?! This is supposed to be relaxing). 

Anyway, her and Miso are industry friends and go way back to the beginning of their careers. Miso is soft with Dalia because Dalia is of course irrationally amazing and everyone loves her because I am Projecting my desires ok?! And they both have a dark sense of humour and are sarcastic but they protect and defend each other against anyone. 

And yoongi is like huh this is unlike her, I’ve not seen this side of her, maybe there’s more to her than I thought since she’s friends with my friend Dalia (I’m laughing to myself, this is ridiculous). And then Dalia introduces them two (Kaya & Miso) at her house for an evening of takeaway and beer. Kaya is introduced as her friend from her time in London since it’s not her secret to tell about Kaya x NJ lol. 

THEN Dalia and Mingyu (he’s back finally I forgot this was a romance) go for a dinner party at namjoons with kaya and jk and Lia because why not. And all the ladies get along amazingly because they’re all bad bitches, confident and intelligent and just fucking amazing of course. 

I just found this so funny. I wasn’t planning on adding them in, my brain just kinda took over and next thing you know I’ve just spent half and hour dreaming about a girls night bonding over how fucking amazing all three of them are in their own ways. 

I just thought I’d share since I’m creating a fan fic of your universe lol. 

This is making me laugh, not me making fics on platonic female friendships and the work against patriarchy and capitalism…… in YOUR universe. This is like 5% of the detail my brain created at 3am this past week.

Okay firstly fuckkkkkkk. you really daydream about my characters? *Ross's sandwich voiceover* MY CHARACTERS?? I'm so fucking honoured, you have no idea.

And btw, hard relate on the extensive-universe-scenarios-with-named-characters because how do you think the idolverse started out? If you ever decide to write this stuff, I'll be your biggest cheerleader <3

Deep-diving into the characters: of course she bonds with Kaya because everyone bonds with Kaya - Kaya is one hundred percent that girl. Given the shit she's been through, she would be so on board with this project.

Miso will surprise Yoongi in many ways so why shouldn't this be one of them? Dalia also keeping NamjoonxKaya a secret - my heart

I have to be honest - I listen to SVT's music sometimes but I'm not into them enough to know the different members and their personalities so I did have to Google Mingyu. Bro seems solid.

Not Namjoon hosting a dinner party in his beautiful apartment :') Kaya would send him to fetch the liquor and leave her alone in the house because she loves cooking and he's a disaster. The girls would get along (I don't want to spoil anything regarding what will happen in my universe but in yours, I see it.)

I looooove this sm; it's so wonderful that you can picture the different girls so vividly and imagine them outside of my fics. Absolutely loved this <3

[hugheshugs]

yours to begin with | q. hughes

inspired by "remember that night" by sara kays

this one was requested :)

join my taglist !

summary: after a drunk quinn tells you to leave, he spends the next month regretting what he said. he finds you at a bar one night but this time he's sober and you aren't.

pairing: ex!quinn x reader, drunk!quinn x reader, quinn x drunk!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk quinn and drunk reader.

word count: 2.2k

note: kinda angsty.. the request was for angst but idk if i executed it properly. also, its been a while since i wrote for our boy quintin, i missed it a lot <3

as the cold vancouver air nipped at your cheeks, only one thing ran through your mind. you knew it was stupid because he didn't care, but a part of you hoped he did. it was just last night that you and quinn had your first argument, and it was just last night when you ended things with him.

it wasn't like you wanted to do it. who in the world had the heart to break up with quinn hughes? well, you did and you regretted it to no end, but you knew it was the right thing to do.

he'd come back to your apartment at 3am last night, leaning all his weight against brock's shoulder as they walked in. he was always partying, and you were always the one cleaning up his mess. it seemed as though the thought of going to clubs and getting drunk excited him more than coming home to you, and after a couple months you'd had enough.

yes, it took you months. you held onto the hope that he'd change. that one day, he'd decide to love you the way he'd promised – but he never did.

you gave brock a small smile as he made eye contact with you, him giving you a sympathetic look before walking out. you would have given him one too, because he dealt with quinn's antics just as much as you did, but he was gone before you could.

"quinn, c'mon. let's get you to bed," you spoke softly, running a hand through his hair.

"no. leave me alone," he grumbled, swatting your hand away.

"you've gotta get to bed. you have a flight tomorrow, you need some rest."

"ion' fucking care. jus' go away."

"dude, i'm just trying to help you–"

"have you ever thought that maybe i don't want your help?" he asked a bit roughly, causing your lips to part.

"what? what's that supposed to mean?" you asked, taking a step back from the couch.

he threw his head back before a hiccup left his mouth. "sometimes.. you're too overbearing."

his voice was quiet, contrasting the way he spoke to you before, but that didn't change the words that fell off his tongue. you were overbearing? after never saying a word to him about his habits, you were overbearing?

"what the fuck's that supposed to mean?" you asked, heat bubbling in your stomach. you were angry, and rightfully so. you were trying to help him and he was over here, drunk, finally telling you how he really feels about you.

"don' raise your voice." his head snapped towards you. you scoffed, crossing your arms as you waited for an explanation.

"m'just saying.. you're always hovering over me 'n i'm sick of it. it's too much, so just.. leave me alone, okay?"

your heart dropped. he didn't realize the extent of what he'd said and if he wasn't drunk, maybe he wouldn't have said it. unless, of course, he was waiting for the right time. you never felt like a clingy girlfriend because he was never even around you for you to be near him. sure, you appreciated his company a lot when he was here, but isn't that what he was supposed to want?

"you're never even home, quinn–"

"yeah, but when i am it's fuckin' annoying! please, leave me alone!"

tears sprung at your eyes. never had you ever thought quinn would speak to you in this tone, let alone say these words to you.

"fine. i'll leave you alone, but we're done," you said without thinking, not regretting your decision. and before you could walk away to pack your things, you heard him mumble something under his breath.

"good."

you were staying with your friend for the time being, until you found a cheap apartment somewhere nearby. you weren't going to go back to your shared home with quinn, that was a no brainer.

you'd thought maybe he wouldn't remember what happened. maybe he'd wake up and look for you, wonder where all your things went. but after waking up to no calls or texts, you knew that wasn't the case.

--

it was hard living in vancouver. it had been a month since you broke up with quinn, and you weren't in contact with him or any of his teammates anymore, but you simply couldn't escape them. everywhere you went, you saw their faces: on buses, billboards, magazines, you name it. not a day had gone by where he didn't cross your mind.

you wondered how he was doing. if he was still living the same life, if he'd moved on with someone new.. but he wasn't doing any better than you were. you missed him a lot, and he missed you more.

he thought about what he said to you that night nearly everyday. the memory haunts him like a nightmare. he loved you, he really did. and he knew that no one could ever love him as much as you did – but he screwed it up and he knew he didn't deserve you anymore.

you never did deserve him. you always deserved better and he wished he could have been that for you. he was so caught up in the bright lights and pretty sights that he'd lost touch of what meant the most to him. if he could take it all back, he would, but he couldn't.

it was a gloomy night in the city when he found himself slipping on his shoes and heading out of his now empty apartment. he hadn't planned to go out tonight but he couldn't stop himself as he felt an anxious pang in his heart.

he'd stopped partying as much as he used to. he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since you left, for fear of messing something up again. he'd learnt his lesson.

so, as he stood in front of a bar for the first time in 30 days, he wondered how the night was going to end. the small bell at the top of the door rang as he made his way in and he looked around, taking in the sight of the familiar room. he hadn't missed it at all, but something about it was comforting.

maybe it was the scent that always reminded him of you, which was the reason this was always his favourite place to be. they lit up candles that he remembered you telling him was your favourite smell.

he brushed off that thought, making his way to the bartender to grab a drink. he took a seat on the stool and sighed, grabbing his phone to check the time. 10:37pm.

after grabbing his wallet and holding his card between his fingers, he waited to make eye contact with someone. he was patient, watching as the workers on the other side of the bar made all different kinds of drinks. he'd always been fascinated by it, his mind flashing back to the first time he tried making some weird galaxy moscow mule with you.

"what can i get started for you tonight?"

quinn almost flinched, snapping back to reality. he spent the time thinking about you instead of what he was going to order. he took a quick glance at the drink of the person beside him and hesitated before replying.

"i'll just have a shirley temple, thanks," he replied while handing the bartender his card.

he sighed, rubbing his forehead. why was it that he thought of you everywhere he went? your favourite drink was a shirley temple, and here he was, drinking it for the first time in god knows how long. the last time he drank it had been because of you as well.

his mind was cluttered, that was for sure. he didn't know how long he was planning to spend here but he hoped it wouldn't be long, because he didn't trust himself to stay in the building for more than an hour. he didn't want to go back to his old ways.

as his drink was set in front of him, a hand quickly grabbed his glass. he blinked slowly, his mind trying to process what was happening. his eyes were fixated on the bracelet around the person's wrist. he knew that bracelet, and that hand was one he could recognize anywhere.

it was the same one that used to run its fingers through his hair. used to hold his face before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. used to rest on his chest as he pulled you in for a hug.

his eyes snapped toward you and he was frozen. after weeks of longing for you, here you were, sitting right beside him.. and he didn't know what to do. your eyes were a bit red and glossy, and you hadn't noticed him yet. all you were focused on was the drink in your hand. well, his drink in your hand.

"c-can.. can i have this?" your gaze finally met his. there was a flicker of recognition in your eyes but it washed away before you could realize it was him.

"um.. yeah, sure."

he slid the glass towards you and you brought the straw to your lips. he watched every movement of yours as his heart raced like never before. he couldn't believe this was happening. you were drunk this time and he wasn't, and he hoped he wasn't the reason.

"do you come 'round here a lot?" you asked, turning in your seat. your knees brushed the side of his thigh and he used all of his might not to breakdown in the middle of the bar.

"no, not really. i used to." he looked at you warily and you gave him a cheeky closed-lipped smile.

"i can tell," you told him before taking a deep breath. "you need to looooosen up a little."

"yeah?" the side of his lip quirked upwards. "i wish i could."

he eyed you carefully, watching as you picked him apart piece by piece. he could see the cogs turning in your head and it was a bittersweet sight. how was it that the first time he saw you again, you couldn't recognize him? it felt like a cruel joke.

"y-you remind me of someone," you informed him, eyes in a daze as you stared at the chain around his neck.

his chest clenched as he noticed the tears forming in your eyes, and it was then that he knew it was his fault you were here. he ached to grab your hand and rub small circles in your palm, something he used to do to help you when you were down. tears of his own almost formed as he caught you doing it yourself.

"i was with.. with this guy," you hiccupped. "he was never around and when he was, h-he didn't want me with him. but obviously i didn' know that.."

this was something he never thought would happen. in fact, he couldn't believe it was. he knew he deserved it, he deserved to feel the pain of knowing how much he hurt you. he just didn't want to.

"oh, really? i'm sorry, that must've been terrible," he tried to console, glancing at everything but your face. there was a growing lump in his throat and he wanted nothing more than for you to stop.

"i loved him so much.. i did everything i could to take care a'him but he didn't want that a-and–" your voice cracked and the dam broke. there were tears everywhere, and quinn couldn't help but shed some of his own.

your body trembled, the loud music luckily drowning the sound of your cries. as if out of instinct, quinn grabbed your face in his hands and wiped away the wetness with his thumbs. your eyes were bloodshot if they weren't before, and you gave him such a vulnerable look that his heart would have shattered if it wasn't already.

"hey, hey, listen to me. you're okay, alright? you deserve so much better than that jerk, and you need to move on from him."

he couldn't believe he said it, but he meant it. you needed to get a grip and live your life without him because he wouldn't let himself come back to you.

"i-i can't," you whimpered, shaking your head. "i've tried so hard but i can't."

the urge to kiss your forehead and tell you he'd always be here for you was strong. so strong that he almost couldn't brush it off. but he thought of you and how it would ruin you even more than you already were, so he let go of your face and took a moment to think.

you needed closure. you left him when he was drunk and you didn't get a proper goodbye, not even an explanation. it was on him, he destroyed you and he'd regret it even after you would move on.

you sniffled as your fingers grazed his chain, holding the star shaped pendant. "he had something like this.."

the look in your eyes was one he'd never forget, but he knew what he had to do to get you to let him go. his hands rose towards the back of his neck, holding the chain as he pulled it off and let it rest in your hands. the chain dangled in the air as the pendant rested between your fingers.

"w-why'd you take it off?" you asked confused, lightly holding it out for him to take.

he shook his head, bottom lip quivering as he put it around your neck. your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him but there were no thoughts in your mind because you didn't know what was going on. you'd know when you woke up the next morning and that was all he wanted. for now, this was enough.

"you should go home," he swallowed. "it's getting late."

"b-but the chain–"

"it's yours now," he insisted, giving you a shaky smile.

he looked down at where it used to rest upon his chest, biting the inside of his cheek. he felt bare, but knowing you had it would make him whole.

"it was always yours to begin with."

--

taglist <3 @harlowhockeystick @nucksgal03 @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @calemakarjuice @everythinghughes @stars-canucks @livelaughloveurdad @idfan21 @joelsfarabees @oowenspower @thescooby-gang @1-800-iluvhockey @boeswhore @talksoprettyjjx @itspbjellytime @nicoleloveshockey @owennpower @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @owenpowerstapejob @xoxo-ceebs @mattybolds @drei-mrssvechii @bbrissonn @owenpwr @owenpowersglasses @ana-maa @hugheswrld @hockeyboysarehot @quietblues @drsydalesgf @sebbyaho @ohpuckyeah @hughesgf

[yondzone]

Jibaku Shounen Hanako kun relationship headcanons

Hanako, Nene, Kou, Teru, Aoi

Warning : none

↰             𓂃              ⌲                    ⌂.

𝕾𝖔𝖋𝖙 𝕵𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖓 𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖐𝖔-𝖐𝖚𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 🛐

𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖐𝖔

At first Hanako-kun wouldn’t stop flirting with you, he will tease you every day in hope that one day you’ll give him you heart

He know that is flirting makes you uncomfortable but he likes the way you blush so much that he will really do anything so he could see this face of yours everyday

Probably call you "darling" or "cutie pie"

He's not afraid of showing how he feels about you in public and keep screaming his love for you without shame

He is extremely needy and jealous by the way-

Here is our touchy and affectionate boy, he like no i mean he love hugging, cuddling, kisses or anything that means he is touching you (he needs love ok)

When you are the one this time who start things like taking is hand or telling him some kind of compliment, he will be the one to blush like a madman.

"you are handsome " 

Whole face red like a tomato he would hide his head in your hairs out of shyness.

𝖞𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖔 𝖓𝖊𝖓𝖊

Yashiro in a relationship would be extremely shy (afterall she his finally dating yay)

She won’t be the one to make the first move a the beggining of the relationship.

She is lowkey  scared at how you woul react to her being clingy, but when she feel comfortable enough with you, she his gonna tell you how much she likes you everyday.

She call you at time you less expect it lie 3am because she found out a scary story that she absolutely want to share with you if you disliked scary story before you will now be obligated to like them because you’ll hear about them quite a lot.

Gardening date!! it may not sound romantic like this but be sure that you will come to love them just hanging in the garden laughing together, what to you need more than her smile? I mean she is just so cute.

She blush so much when you hold her hand its adorable, she loves hugging and kissing but she is too ashamed to admit it.

She aslo like when you come from behind her and hug her like there is no tomorrow (she will also not admit it by the way)

Yashiro love holding your pinkie!

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖔𝖚

Minamoto is a super Jealous type bofriend (almost stifling sometimes)

 He will protect you with all his migth and mark you as his own clearly so that everyone can see and never forgot who you belongs too 

He is extremly worried and feel anxiety about you leaving him one day so he his carrying so that you too see how much he loves and care for you.

At first they were some difficulties with the relationship because he would be too direct and would easily hurt your feelings but he got better

When he gets comfortable he would tease you on a daily basis (but not as much as hanako)

He will call you ‘senpai’ to tease you bu im not talking about the cheerful ‘senpai!’ im talking about a ‘s-e-n-p-a-i’ to seduce you but he his a child so its difficult to be serious sometimes.

He love calling you "sweet" (a contrast from his delinquent reputation)

He may look rude to other people but trust me the face he make when you smile at him will holding his hand (or both) is so adorable that it could kill anyone on the spot.

Also, he found a hobby of cooking with you.

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖚

When you first started dating him is popularity was kinda bothersome and if you are an introvert you can be sure that the heinous gaze of the girl in crush with him was enough to make you anxious.

He is perfect to cool you down when you are being anxious or stressed about something he is just so composed that it’s almost unbelievable.

Don’t even try to hide something from him, he’ll find out what you are trying to hide from im in no time.

Don't like t when you give him compliment that much he prefer to give them, If you try to look down on yourself, his kind self will be no more, that will make him immediately angry, to him you are perfect and you shouldn't look down on his favourite person (after his sibling), you.

Now that you have a big place in his heart you can be sure he’ll do anything for ya

Kinda force you to do any homework you may have he takes school and your future very seriously.

He won’t say it because he fell ashamed about it but he truly love giving you piggyback ride

He does not like to use nicknames like sweetheart or love he just prefer to naturally call your name it makes him feel some sort of close proximity.

He started learning how to cook just to please you but won’t give you anything until he can make the perfect bento box for you

His eyes are automatically looking for you in a crowd and his passion is watching you when he is sitting in class watching you study, sleep or when having fun with your friend.

𝖆𝖐𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖔𝖎

At first she seemed oh so very kind and loving and the you discovered her true personality and when she told you that she just wanted people to loves her and asked you if you hated her now that you know about her true self while crying you really fell, literally, on your knees crying.

This sweetheart was in reality feeling so alone in the world and sad, fearful of her true self all those thing hidden being her sweet mask, in fact this permitted your bond to grow stronger.

Accepting each other the way they are and in your relationship you are both trying to liberate yourself.

Now making her express her real emotions and making her fears disappear became one of your top priority

You are the first person she feel like she can fully trust now that you gave her your acceptance

Sometimes her romanticism can be a little too overbearing and if you want to just have a calm and simple date it'll be difficult because she really want everything to be perfect.

At some point she started believing that she is still alive is because of you, you made her, she is alive for real now, hiding nothing in your presence.

So if it mean making you happy she’ll probably do anything.

On her way to school she loves picking one single flowers and giving it to you every morning.

Cant keep her hands from you hairs, in class she probably be seated behind you, listening to the class while braiding your hair and putting some leaves in your hair.

So that even when you are home you will think about her when you are trying to remove the leaves and undo the knot.

[equizona]

hello! if your up to it can i request hc’s for being friends with jeff the killer and ben drowned (creepypasta)? Its okay if not but i’d love to see you do them!

Note: Aaaa, I'm always happy to get Creepypasta requests— I really love BEN lmao— He's the one who inspired me to write for Creepypasta actually.

Fandom(s): Creepypasta

Character(s): Jeff the Killer, BEN drowned.

Reader(?): Gender-neutral

Scenario: General friendship headcanons

Warning(s): All the warnings that come with the Creepypasta fandom, such as 'yandere' behavior, violence, gore, blood, etc.

→BEN Drowned

Ben is antisocial and hates just about everyone around him, but he somehow manages to seem super social? It's odd, and you can think you're his friend but in reality he doesn't even remember your name.

You are one of the few people he actually considers a friend though, so he's kinda protective. He won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but give him the go and he'll definitely set a tracker on your phone.

He's great at games and they are one of his favorite things ever, so the both of you probably play together all the time.

He's great at hacking and can do just about anything in any game so if you ever need anything just call him up ;)

Ben can be kinda.. toxic? He's also prone to guilt tripping. Don't let him do it. He's willing to change for you since you're his best friend, but he won't change if you don't bring up that he's doing something bad.

Sometimes he goes into periods where he just needs time alone. Let him know you're there if he needs someone and then give him his space. He'll eventually come to your room with a video game, asking you if you want to play. Sometime while the two of you are doing that he'll tell you what's been bothering him.

Unless he's driving someone insane or in one of periods he's always there for you.

He's the type of person who will side with you no matter if you are right or wrong. He doesn't care, you're his friend. He might get a bit torn if you're fighting with another of the few he actually gets along with though.

Nothing you do can make him disgusted, so he'll encourage you to tell him everything.

He's really playful, and does make dirty jokes sometimes. Play fights will happen between you.

Pillow fights, sleepovers and raiding the kitchen at 3am? Absolutely.

He has multiple playlists for every mood that he plays whenever you're over and don't want to talk much.

He loves dancing and is 100% who'll blast music when he's alone in the 'house' and just dance around wildly in his room. Please join him on that.

He'd absolutely love to share one of his lesser known hobbies with his bets friend.

He has a really smooth voice, and he's pretty confident about his singing ability. (He's earned it.) So karaoke is something he'll gladly do if you're down.

Boy lives for memes and such and since he doesn't sleep he'll spam you 24/7. There is no escape, I'm sorry.not sorry

He's probably done a lyrics prank on you at one point. If you don't catch on he'll make fun of you for having bad taste in music and it sucks—

Dark humor, like really dark humor. Besides Masky, Hoodie and Jeff he defiantly has the most fucked up humor sense. If you are his friend you're probably cool with it though, so yeah—

→Jeff 'the killer'

Oh heavens—

Jeff is probably the most mentally unstable out of all of them and the fact you are his friend is a fucking miracle?

He used to have a really nice voice, but when he ended up getting burnt it fucked with his vocal cords so his voice is kinda uncomfortable to listen to?

Again, if you are his friend you're probably fine with that so, yeah—

He doesn't actually talk much, but when he does he's either pissed, in the mood to fuck with someone, or really likes the person he's with. You fall into the latter category for this.

Like mentioned in Ben's part, while Jeff has dark humor it doesn't compare with Jeff's humor. (Even Slender is uncomfortable with Jeff's jokes sometimes.)

Jeff actually really likes cooking and baking? If you're up for it, he'll blast either one of his or one of your playlists and make something with you.

He's also a really good cook, like, he's the best cook of the entire group. You're blessed to have it so often.

He doesn't sleep well at night so he's often just around the 'house', woods or a city? It depends on his mood. Sometimes he'll just lay on his bed or the roof and blast some music.

Please join him when he does this, it makes him feel a lot better.

He also really likes playfights, so if you're fine with that it happens often. (He might also show you some tips on how you can defend yourself in different situations.)

You won't win against him though.

(Kinda random but I feel like he listens to Mother Mother, Weathers, Arctic Monkeys and such.)

He's not very high on video games, but he does enjoy them occasionally, so if you ever want to play he's down.

Jeff collects knives, and he really wants to show you but it keeps slipping his mind, so at one of the most random times he'll remember and drag you off to show you.

He also knows how to do different tricks with the knives, he'll show you—

Mentioned above, but he has violent bursts. When he gets one of them, just leave— He's shown you what to do just in case. Most of the time either Slender or E.J is around to make sure you're fine though.

He won't feel regret if he hurts you on accident, but the fact he doesn't feel regret is what's going to get him to feel regret.

He may distance himself for a while after a violent outburst. Let him be for about two days to calm himself and go talk with him after that.

If you let him distance himself he might never come back—

The person he's the closest to of everyone in the mansion is Ben and the two of them barely talk.

Having a friend has been helpful on his mental state, and he'll probably have less and less uncontrollable outbursts.

They'll never quite go away, but he feels.. better having a friend.

Because of that he'll get you the most random gifts to show gratitude. You're his friend, and stayed even if he's utterly fucked. Not even his own family did that, so..

He'll take time, but he's a surprisingly good friend for a psycho killer—

[bloodorangesoup]

Anything | B.B.

Summary: Bucky is NOT in love with reader (except he very much is). Bucky catches reader during a small depressive episode and comforts her.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mention of depression, Bucky being sweet, slight angst

My Masterlist

Notes: This was an idea I got at 3am and I’m not sure how I feel about this but it helped me get out of my writing slump :)) Happy reading!

Bucky only had two friends in his life, Steve and you. Steve was his brother, in childhood, in war, in life. To him it just made sense that that was how having a friend should feel. That’s how it felt when he met you. He could see you were a pretty woman, most of the women on the team were, but he never felt attracted to you in a way that was any different than seeing a pretty woman on the street. When he joined the team there was no shocking, firework-and-spark-producing moment that solidified you as partners, it just happened over time. The two of you felt naturally drawn together, if it came down to it, both of you were sure you’d have each others’ backs.

After weeks of training together and the team seeing the natural bonding between you, Steve set you up as partners for all missions. Through those missions you’ve taken hits for him and he’s carried you bloody back to the quinjet. Bucky often thought about the memory of you laughing and coughing up blood at the way he yelled your name when you jumped in front of him; Steve was his brother, but you were definitely his best friend. That was it.

Bucky faintly remembered the feeling of romantic attraction. When he was young, he had his fair share of dames kissing up to him and an even smaller bunch that he really liked back. However, life had been cruel, and he hadn’t had much time to sustain the memory of the fluttery emotion he got whenever the girl he liked would walk into the dance hall. He figured he would probably never feel it again, and he had accepted that his life was far too involved in other things to bring him back to that vulnerable state.

Life really was cruel, but it was also complicated. Even though the memories were faint, he started to notice more and more how, when you’d make that face at him during boring meetings and try to hold in your laughter, he felt like that 20 year old kid who’s hands would shake when asking his best girl for a dance. It was moments like those that he wondered if your eyes had always sparkled like that, or if your lips always looked that soft. It was moments like those that he wished he had forgotten the feeling altogether. You were his partner, his best friend, he wasn’t supposed to like you, at least he wasn’t in love with you. He disregarded it to the feeling of being close with a woman again. Of course, you were pretty, nice, funny, and trustworthy, that was all. He wasn’t in love with you, the friendship you two had was just really good. That was it. He’d just keep telling himself that that was it.

You had already confided in Bucky about your depression, about the weeks where the cloud that followed you constantly would completely crush you. He knew about the nights you wouldn’t sleep because of all the dark thoughts that took the spotlight in your head. Those were the times Bucky missed you the most. During those times, the dark would inhabit you like a crab taking temporary residence in a shell, leaving the person he knew stranded somewhere to find her way back.

It was happening again. Bucky noticed how you went straight to your room and didn’t come out after the last mission. He noticed how you would silently make your dinner, flash a half smile to the team and retreat back to safety. He noticed how the muscles in your face drooped despite how much sleep it seemed you were getting.

Unlocking the door of his room and stepping out into the wide hallway, Bucky, clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt, made to the kitchen in search of a glass of water before bed. The night was unusually quiet in the residence floor of the compound. It was only eleven, yet the lights were dimmed and there were no stray members wandering around. He could hear his steps, how the sound changed as he left the carpeted hallway and entered the hardwood floors of the lounging area.

You almost spooked him, the way you sat in the dark. He observed your place at the head of the dining room table, the length of it emphasizing your solitude. Your head was buried in your hands, slowly rising from them to stare at the wall in front of you with a blank expression. You looked tired. Bucky could see it, but he still admired the way your silhouette moved in the soft light. A pang of guilt tugged at his heart, how could he be thinking of you like this when you were clearly hurting? He couldn’t help it, he could push down his feelings, but there was nothing to distract him from how beautiful you were.

Bucky stayed in the shadows, watching you with furrowed brows. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to be bothered, you were obviously out there to be alone. You took in a shaky breath as a line of light reflected its way down your face, following the tear running down it.

He closed his eyes. There was no more running, no more distractions, there was nothing else but you. He knew he was in love the moment he saw you sitting there, in fact, he had known it well before that. He had known it from the first time you managed to get the upper hand in a sparring match against him, from the time you asked him to help you bake cookies even though he burnt them the time before, from the time you had saved him a seat at the table even when he didn’t come out to eat, from all the times you smiled through injuries and he vowed to do anything to make the pain bearable.

His eyes opened, he would always vow to do anything to make the pain bearable.

Bucky took small steps towards the table and stood next to you. He looked down at you and cursed himself for thinking of how pretty you were. Shaking the thought out of his head, he focused his gaze on your slumped shoulders, he could think about that later, right then he had to be your best friend. Wordlessly, he pulled your shoulders and held you to his abdomen, taking deep breaths so that you would feel the steady rise and fall of his stomach. You closed your eyes, matching his breathing.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours to Bucky. As much as holding you like this was something he had imagined countless times, he just wanted to know you were okay, some kind of assurance.

Your head turned up, your chin coming forward to lean on him. Bucky met your gaze, keeping eye contact as he lifted his flesh hand to cradle your head. Your eyes were glassy and your lips swollen.

“Thank you, Bucky.” It was the faintest whisper, Bucky would have missed it if he wasn’t already looking at your lips. You turned your head back down, resting the side of your head against him. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Anything, Y/n.”

Bucky tried not to focus on how you felt in his arms, or how your head felt on his stomach, or how the tears made your eyes glimmer. He tried not to think about how things would be different now that he couldn’t hide his feelings from himself anymore. He didn’t want to think about how he wasn’t supposed to love you, about how it would go nowhere, so he didn’t.

Closing his eyes, he held you tighter. He had you, at the very least he was keeping to his vow to do anything to make the pain bearable. You were his person, and he was your best friend. If that was all he could be, then at least he had you.