#although who knows i do feel better when i complete something

[max1461]

@deaths-accountant I will, if I remember, think carefully about your thought experiment and respond to it soon (although I will probably change some details so that it is less similar to current events because I don't want people to misunderstand the nature of the discussion and get mad at me), but, in the mean time, here is a counter-thought-experiment for you:

Suppose there is a guy Bob, currently hanging out in the heavenly realm or whatever, and he is presented by an angel with the following choice:

Bob will be born into the world, and live an ordinary-seeming life. Over the course of his life, the net utility (under whatever form of utilitarianism you endorse; hedonic, preferential, etc.) which he contributes to everyone else in the world besides himself will be 0. In other words, the people of the world (not including him) will be no better off nor worse off for his being born. However, he himself, under the same conception of utility, will receive -ε net utils. He will have N (for reasonable large N) utils worth of joys, triumphs, etc., and -(N+ε) utils worth of pains, failures and so on. Thus, he will live a net-negative life.

Bob will not be born into the world, he will cease to exist.

Implicitly I'm discounting here all the thoughts and feelings that Bob experiences here in the heavenly realm before he is born (or not) as irrelevant, but if you don't feel comfortable with this you can just adjust the numbers so that the net utility of each choice comes out as intended above.

It is possible, I think, that in light of the above choice, Bob would select (2) and cease to exist. But I think it's also possible that Bob would say "no, I'll take (1), I want to have the joys and triumphs even if there turn out also to be a greater number of failures and losses". In particular, I am almost certain that I would choose (1), and not just for fear of death (the above scenario is an abstraction of choices that I have actually made, where no risk of death was involved).

The question is: would it be moral for the angel to override Bob here, "for his own good", and choose (2) for him?

By construction a utilitarian has to say yes. If ε is small the utilitarian might say "well, it's not a very big deal; the normative force behind overriding Bob and choosing (2) is low". But I can think of scenarios in which I would chose (1) even if (I believed that) ε was pretty significant, where this excuse doesn't work.

Also consider for instance... the archetype of the starving artist. The man who is committed to producing his Great Work even at significant cost to himself. Suppose that he has made many sacrifices in order to hone his craft, he's given up financial success and a social life, he lives in the mountains and, you know, carves statue after statue in pursuit of perfection. Suppose that he can rationally conclude that, when (if) he does complete his masterpiece, the satisfaction will be relatively small in the face of all the sacrifices he's made. I mean, yeah, he'll be happy, he'll feel fulfilled and genuinely, deeply satisfied. But on a literal, summative level, that just won't add up to the lifetime of late nights, missed opportunities for social connection, etc., either in terms of net pleasure or net preference satisfaction or whatever. But suppose also that on the day to day level he doesn't feel miserable, he's not suffering. He's toiling in pursuit of a deeply held personal goal, and it feels... well, "good" isn't always the word. But he is plenty motivated to keep going; he's out here in the mountains of his own accord. The fact that he judges that at the end of his life the utility tally won't come up positive for him doesn't weigh on him much. "Why should I care about some number?" he says. "Maybe I'd be net happier if I went out on the town and found a wife and settled down, but I don't want to do that. I want to complete my Great Work."

Is this artist doing something immoral by living his life the way he has? Would it be moral for a third party to step in and prevent him from pursuing his endeavors?

In both of these thought experiments, my extremely strong intuition is that the answer is "no", making choices for other people "for their own good" in this way is not moral. But this seems like a necessary consequence of any kind of utilitarianism, so I can't get behind utilitarianism.

The starving artist example gets to a more fundamental issue, too. I kept saying things like "he really wants to complete his Great Work, and it will make him very satisfied, but he will be more net satisfied if he gives up on that and lives a normal life". Well... what the hell does "net satisfied" mean? How do you measure the strength of a preference? He "really wants" to complete his Great Work, and materially that corresponds to a certain neural state, but how do you put a number on that neural state which is fungible with the numbers you put on all the other neural states of human life? You run into this problem in both hedonic and preference utilitarianism, because "preference" is a neural phenomenon. Is there even a well-defined abstraction here, is there even a coherent thing to which "preference strength" can possibly refer? Maybe, but I don't know that there is. And the problem is that if you pick the wrong abstraction, if you pick the wrong way of getting a fungible quantity out of a fundamentally non-numerical arrangement of matter, then what you have doesn't correspond to "ethics" anymore, right, it lacks normative force. It's just some number.

This is why I say that utilitarian-ish ethics are fine on the large scale, they're fine for the policy maker or the economist, who for methodological reasons simply needs to pick an ok enough abstraction on run with it. But on the scale of individual humans, individual minds, and what it "really means" to treat people right, I don't think utilitarianism can possibly hold up.

I might have made this exact post before somewhere, if so apologies for repeating myself.

[feppepyro]

notes: they've been on my mind vro... non specified close relationship (can be interpreted however you wish), g/n reader, no pronouns used, they/it for pyro, no warnings. also self indulgent. i love this thing!!!!!

well, first things first; you have to be respectful about their privacy. as much as pyro loves all of their family (including you), please don't expect instant openness about its identity. it'll reveal some little bits of lore as you progress further into your relationship and become closer, so please just be patient

if you're someone who's generally fine with the constant air of mystique, pyro's your guy!! oh you'll have so much fun together

it's pretty touchy. it likes holding your hand or your arm when it's leading you somewhere, putting their head on your shoulder, laying on your lap... cat behavior. when they're especially happy they'll run up to you, giggling, and hug you from behind. the way you yelp in surprise is so silly

pyro is kinda mischievous like that— this mf will pop up out of nowhere just to jumpscare you. imagine you're working on your stuff, then turn around to grab something and when you return to your routine its mask is like centimeters away from your face. now you go flying 5 feet in the air while this bastard teehehees triumphantly

no worries, pyro won't abuse this!! in fact if you really dislike people sneaking up on you they won't do it at all. though sometimes you really can't do anything about it, they're so cryptic light on their feet that you just don't notice when they enter a room, even if it's been standing there for like 20 minutes

they have pretty expressive body language and usually communicate through really short sentences so that they're legible even through the mask, but if you know sign language, that's even better!!! pyro would also definitely be the type of person to invent a whole new secret language with you so you can giggle about the gossip anytime

if you get along with pyro, you'll definitely get along with engie. he sees how much it trusts you, so "the more, the merrier!". you 3 are the bosses of parallel play (which usually takes place in engineer's workshop while he's tending to his stuff and you're doodling on the floor with pyro)

speaking of doodles, pyro will DEFINITELY nag you until you participate. even if it's something as little as a cat face or a bunch of stars in the corner, it feels like it completes the page. and if you're an experienced artist, it's so in awe!!! they really wanna watch you draw, ooh'ing and aah'ing and kicking their feet

as a matter of fact, pyro likes watching you do ANYTHING!! sewing, scrapbooking, gardening, playing some kind of instrument, reading, cooking— one of the best ways to wind down after a stressful day for them is to keep you company while you're doing something you love. if the position allows it, it'll subtly snuggle up to you and put their head on your shoulder

when it comes to feelings, with pyro you don't need a lot of words. it's very observant and, if we're being honest here, pretty sensitive to subtle changes in your behavior. if you need to have a good cry and let your emotions out, they're right here for you. they'll hold you if you want them to, gently rock you back and forth and bring you lots of plushies you can cuddle with. it will do anything to make you feel better, although the primary tactic is reminding you how far you've come, how much you've done for it and the team, how your presence means so much to it. and they're completely serious

if it's a person that hurt you... well. just say the name. pyro will take care of it (completely melt that mf's skin) <3

[twinkskeletons]

travie and patrick! maybe in the 16 candles verse (or whatever you want!)

new vampire /\^.w.^/\

[king-spite]

.

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[its44intheehouse]

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE F1 DRIVERS

Wondering what it would be like to date the f1 drivers? 😏

___________________________________________

warnings: not much, fluff?, implied smut, (smut?), dirty thoughts, mentions of breeding kink, cursing.

Max Verstappen

-he's your biggest fan. in every way possible. he loves to support you, to admire you, to see you happy.

-you're his biggest love. he didn't think he could fall for someone that hard. he's completely whipped and everyone knows it.

-gets jealous a lot, but doesn't always show it, although you know better. he doesn't like it when other men look at what's his.

-that's why he has decided that from now on every man will know who you belong to. either by covering your soft neck in bruises or making you walk out of the bathroom with your cunt stuffed of his cum. he absolutely enjoys seeing you squirm all night and try not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that his seed is dripping down your bare legs.

-he loves how submissive you are for him. of course you love being a spoiled brat sometimes just for the fun of it, because then he gets feral. and you always know it’s gonna end in a lot of orgasms.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat? What happened, schat? Fucked your tiny brain out?” his thrusts hit a spot inside your pussy that makes you see stars. He slaps your cheek to get your attention, knowing you’re going dumb already.

All you can do is cry out and shake your head. You can’t talk. You can’t even think. You’re too busy trying to jerk away from his harsh thrusts.

You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t answer him.

“Talk.” he snaps, squeezing your cheeks tightly then slapping you again.

“YES daddy. Sorry for b-being a brat. Please, please! Make me cum!”

Lewis Hamilton

-spoils you all the time; expensive jewelry, cars, clothes, lingerie, vacations… whatever you need or want. also, his card is always on your phone. he insists you use it anytime you want.

“Get yourself something nice, baby… I want to see you dripping with my wealth. You are my beautiful little wife.”

-will always have a hand on you. in the car while he's driving, on your b*tt when you're walking, on your thigh when you're having dinner with your parents and his fingers successfully rub a spot on your clit through your panties that makes you twitch and moan every time. thankfully, your parents were oblivious.

-kisses the ground you walk on. he's a grown man and isn't afraid to show you how a real man loves his woman.

-especially when he's between your legs, showing you how you deserve to be treated.

“Come on, princess… gimme one more. You’d do anything for daddy, isn’t that right princess?” he softly rubs your cheek with his finger, thrusting a little bit more inside your tight and overstimulated cunt.

“D-daddy… too much. I don’t think I can…” you whimper stupidly, still slightly shaking with the intensity of the last orgasm you just had about 2 minutes ago.

He smirks. “Of course you can, baby. Don’t you want daddy’s babies? Hm?”

He loves how pathetic you get after a few good orgasms. He knows he’s the best you ever had. He can make you cum anywhere, anytime. You let him do whatever he wants to you.

Carlos Sainz

-can be possessive at times, but loves to show you off. you are his most prized possession.

when he met you, he knew he wanted to date to get married, not like the relationships he had before.

-takes you everywhere with him; vacations, races. he can't stand being away from you.

-he secretly fantasizes about you carrying his children. until one night after a baby shower when he confesses to you.

“Mi amor… You don’t know how beautiful you looked today with my niece in your arms. I can’t wait to get you pregnant. Make you my precious wife.”

His touch on your thigh gives you goosebumps, and you suddenly feel impossibly aroused by his confession. He didn’t even need to ask. You’d give him as many kids as he wants.

He recognizes the look in your eyes. The craving, the lust. He knows you like the back of his hand. “You’d like that, no? To walk around all round and heavy with my child. To make these tiny tits swell and burst with the sweetest milk…” he grabs at your breasts and squeezes, making you moan in response.

“Yes, papi. I want to have your babies… please touch me…”

Lando Norris

-you're his best friend. his rock, the girl of his dreams.

-datind lando is the most intense experience of your life. he is a fierce lover. but loves to be soft for you sometimes

-he loses his mind when you're being bossy with him, showing off your bold attitude.

-especially when you're making him beg for you.

“What did you say?” You smirk, hovering on top of him, teasing him sometimes with a swift rub of your wet pussy on his erect and red cock.

Poor baby, you edged him for too long and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock twitches every few seconds and you know he isn’t going to last too long.

“Please, baby… fuck, please.” His voice is hoarse when he talks, probably from all the moans you pulled out of him already. “Let me fuck you, I need it. I have so much cum for you baby… Please.”

You moan at his words and decide to stop the torture. You needed him too. Nothing compares to the way he stretches your sweet little pussy. Quickly, you align yourself with his cock and sink in, making the both of you moan loudly.

Charles Leclerc

-you're eye candy for this man. ever since he saw you he couldn't take his eyes off you.

-he loves to have you at the races. he's constantly trying to show off and be the best, because he loves the look on your face when he wins or he's doing good.

-he's going to be the most romantic man you've ever had. he's always touching you, always tells you what an angel you are, how beautiful you look, what a good girl you always are for him…

-ESPECIALLY if you’re bent over his lap while he’s driving and you’re sloppily sucking on his cock.

“Mm, fuck. That’s is, mon ange, suck my cock. You’re such a naughty girl.” he mocks you almost, and it makes you even more eager to show him who’s in charge. for once.

Gagging a little, you take more of his length in your mouth, forcing your throat open. Suddenly, you feel his hand slap your ass hard and you can’t control the loud moan that threatened to escape you. Your throat squeezes his head perfectly then, and he lifts his hips up a little, hissing at the sensation.

“Gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

Your efforts double when you hear that, and you wrap your small hand around his cock, starting to pump his hard, heavy shaft. Your swollen lips are still wrapped around his head, licking and sucking on it desperately, waiting for his hot, salty cum.

The car stops abruptly and you assume he just pulled over. His hand then snatches your hair in a messily done ponytail and forces your head down his cock, making you cry and gag uncontrollably.

“Take it. You greedy girl. Take my fucking cum. Fuck.”

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue

No, he didn’t.

This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)

Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out). 

But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.

So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .

I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.

I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.

(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)

I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.

At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified. 

[celaenaeiln]

You know what’s interesting?

Dick didn’t set out to murder Zucco with the intent of being a killer. He viewed it as an unfortunate byproduct of his actions.

His real goal was to “purge the world of criminals” because “darkness needs light.”

Do you realize how unhinged that sounds? It means Robin wasn’t created from anger. It was created from the messed up psyche of a child who realized at 8 years old that the entire world needs something better than what it was given and so he went out and became it.

I cant properly explain how insane that is. It’s like putting the logic of the Joker inside the mind of child but turning it for good. Everything is falling into place now. That is why the Joker hates Dick-he is the one Robin the man couldn’t break. Literally COULDN’T because when he’s facing Dick, he’s facing the version of himself that would have existed if he had put himself to good. That was would break HIM.

Imagine spending the better part of your life doing your utmost worst to show Batman that people and the system are inherently evil only to have him fall head over cowl for a version of yourself to completely invalidate your reason for existing. How psychotic would you turn when you realize you have nothing to prove?

This also explains why Dick is so well adjusted and sociable in a way that Bruce and the others aren’t.

Bruce loses it when he loses his children, he thinks it’s a failure of his abilities and doubts his life’s work.

Jason loses it when he thinks he’s been replaced because his reason for being is having someone care for him.

Tim loses it when he comes to a dead-end. He feels helpless and lost when he doesn’t know the next move because his reason for being is being able to solve what’s wrong.

Damian loses it when he feels abandoned. He feels hurt and broken because he’s a child who wants to be loved.

The reason Dick was the perfect choice for Dark Crisis and to become the dawn of DCU is because his sole reason for being is to be the light.

That is why Bruce refused to destroy a planet when Superman asked him too. That is why Dick was the only person in the universe who could control the Darkness infecting him when even Deathstroke lost his mind to it. That is why the evil Justice League chose Dick of every one to kill-to make a point.

This is why he’s looked up to by major heroes such as Superman, Wonderwoman, the Titans, the children, the villains, and the civilians.

This is why Harvey Dent called Robin Dick “Batman’s secret weapon.”

Although anger was the baseline emotion, Dick doesn’t have anger issues because:

Robin wasn’t created for revenge. It was created with the intention of building a world so unrealistically good, that the level of the vision Richard Grayson was aiming for and set the standards for- is so terrifyingly inconceivable.

And that-is why he is a happy, feral, monster.

[paarksunghoon]

DEEP HONEY | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.

NOTES: felt some type of way and naturally i need a hug from sunghoon. best i can do is write about it.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: angst, typical rough day stuff and typos, probably.

MASTERLIST

***

Your car comes to a complete halt when you situate yourself on the curb of Lee Heeseung’s apartment. The rumble of the pavement beneath your tires ceases to amplify the slight movement that naturally shakes your car seats and you sit in the driver’s side like you’re a zombie.

The muggy atmosphere from the heat attempting to displace the freezing air makes your skin feel sticky and gross as you turn your engine off. The overhead lights temporarily blind you as you stare ahead into the dark night and feel the tension building up in your body.

Your jaw clenches and your cheeks become warm with the sheer amount of frustration seeping into your bones. The cold sweat you harbor makes you feel hot and freezing at the same time. The coolness of your glass window does nothing to quell your body’s temperature.

The familiar two-story house beside you is where Heeseung lives. He rents the bottom property and has lived with Park Jongseong ever since you all collectively started the last year of university.

You don’t necessarily want to be here. Coming to Heeseung’s apartment because you feel like you might combust at any minute seems like an invasion of privacy. Your boyfriend Sunghoon had let you know that he was sleeping over at his friends’ apartment tonight and you had no qualms with the proposition. He deserved to have his time with his friends too. Although it seems that your mind has its own agenda and you find yourself in front of Heeseung’s place in no time.

You step out of the car and lock it. Your feet carry you around the hood and you step onto the hard sidewalk with a slight wobble. The air is chilling, throwing a stark shiver down your spine as you huddle in your arms for warmth. The jacket you have sprawled on the backseat looks at you with concern.

You’re a step away from ringing the doorbell but your finger hovers the white button as tears well up in your eyes. The feeling of desperation and burden weigh on your chest as you listen to the muffled laughter that comes from Heeseung’s living room. Sunghoon hadn’t seen his friends in a few weeks between classes, work, and you. The last thing you want to do is impede on his time with his friends when you’ve spent the better half of this month glued to his side.

But you can’t help it. Your nose feels like it could be burning from the cold and the weather forces you to ring Heeseung’s doorbell when it ripples through your shirt. You hear him padding to the front door and can make out his figure from the bottom, his shadow blocking the light from inside.

Heeseung opens it just slightly ajar to assess who’s standing outside his apartment at this late hour. When he opens it, seeing you standing in the cold with red eyes and no jacket makes him panic.

“Y/N?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

You think he might close the door with the look of confusion on his face but he opens it wider to allow you into his apartment. He shuts it quickly behind him and notices your chattering teeth, eyes softening at the sound when you look up at him. Heeseung watches your eyes begin to water and puts a hand on your upper back to soothe your emotions, but it makes you spill a few tears.

“I-I’m sorry for coming here,” you hiccup. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can always come over if you need something.”

You speak faster than you can think. “Today was so awful.”

Heeseung purses his lips and tells you to stay put. You watch him retreat into the living room and stare at the wall clock in front of you until you hear Heeseung say, “Hoon, your girl’s here.”

Sunghoon hears the worry in his friend’s voice because he stands up from the couch like he’s on a mission. With his eyebrows furrowed and heart beating in his chest, Sunghoon follows Heeseung to the front door and is immediately presented with you.

You look nothing like the happy-go-lucky girlfriend he said goodbye to before heading over to Heeseung’s. This morning, you’d woken up next to Sunghoon and he’d given you a tender kiss before heading to spend the day with his friends. Now, your eyes are swollen and your cheeks are stained with salty tears.

His heart plummets when he sees you standing in Heeseung’s doorway with no jacket on. You look helpless in a way he doesn’t see very often. Your knees buckle in your pants and the goosebumps on your arms are prominent to his eye.

Sunghoon wastes no time and envelopes you in a hug, pulling you into his chest until your face is situated in his neck.

“Baby?” he asks, feeling your hot breaths against his skin. “Talk to me. What happened? You’re so cold. Where’s your jacket? Did you bring one?”

His deep, honey-like voice that utter sweet concern only makes you cry harder. You try to keep your chokes and sobs as quiet as possible but the hiccups emitting from your throat make it impossible. You try to ignore the fact that Sunghoon’s friends can likely hear you weeping, instead focusing on your boyfriend’s warmth.

His arms encircle your body, one hand protectively around your waist and the other secured behind you. Sunghoon’s hands cup the back of your head and he strokes his fingers through your head lovingly.

“I had a bad day.” Your broken whispers makes Sunghoon’s heart sink even further. He pushes your hair out of the way and kisses your temple with plump lips.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rethinking the events that led to your arrival at Heeseung’s place only fuels your tears and you shut your eyes, burying yourself further into your boyfriend’s neck.

Heeseung, helplessly standing around the corner, walks closer to tell him the two of you could use his bedroom. Sunghoon rubs the small of your back and slowly walks towards the room, guiding you inside without so much as a word spoken. Heeseung closes the door behind you two and Sunghoon immediately perches the two of you on the edge of his bed.

“My baby.” Sunghoon lifts your head and pushes the tears underneath your eyes away with the pads of his thumbs. “What’s got you upset, hm? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you choke. “I’m not hurt.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sunghoon pulls you into his chest and further onto Heeseung’s bed when you give into him. He lets you cry against him, not caring that his shirt is becoming damp as the seconds pass by. His palm soothes the entirety of your back and he kisses the crown of your head, periodically squeezing you tighter when his heart breaks at the sound of your sobs.

“Life is so hard,” you say into his chest. “I feel overwhelmed and scared.”

“Scared of what, baby?”

“I don’t know. Everything? I had the worst shift at work today. A customer ordered a hot coffee but I made it iced by accident and instead of letting me remake it for her, she involved my manager and was making a scene in front of everybody there.”

“I’m sorry.” Sunghoon whispers against your temple and kisses it again. “That’s frustrating.”

“My manager tried to get her to leave but she was pushy. Usually I could handle that but I’m overwhelmed with school and my senior project that I just broke down when the manager sent me home.”

“Your manager doesn’t think you’re at fault, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He said I looked like I needed some rest and told me to take the rest of the night off.”

“Thank God.” He squeezes you tighter. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. You shouldn’t have to put up with mean people who get mad at you for making a small mistake.”

“Everybody is so fucking mean, Hoon.” You roughly push away the tears from your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I’m tired of everybody expecting so much from me. Between work, school, and my parents asking me what job I’ll have after graduating, it’s all too much.”

Sunghoon coos. “You’re so precious, you know that? You’re dealing with so much and you’re allowed to cry about it. I’m sorry everything is affecting you like this.”

“Sorry for ruining your boys night,” you sniffle. “I feel awful that I took you away from your friends.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’d come to you in a heartbeat if you called.”

His words only make you cry harder. Sunghoon is the perfect boyfriend. He dotes on you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved in his entire life and lets you know how beautiful you are any chance he gets. He gets along with your friends and family, welcomes you into his own life, and makes you feel like you can achieve anything whether he’s in the picture or not.

Being with him has made you feel safer than you have in a long time. His arms provide the kind of comfort you’ve always been seeking and despite the amount of frustration and sadness in your body, it seems to be melting away with every kiss Sunghoon puts on your forehead.

Heeseung knocks gently and opens the door just slightly. You feel silly being held like a baby in front of Sunghoon’s friends who you’ve met only once before. It was at Heeseung’s house that you first met the three guys Sunghoon is closest to after they made an effort to invite you over to a night at the local dive bar before coming back to watch a marathon of Marvel movies. Your love for Iron Man catapulted the start of your friendship with Heeseung in particular and Sunghoon was starting to love how well you fit into his life.

“It’s been a while and I wanted to check in. You doin’ okay?”

You sniffle and hold onto Sunghoon’s arm. “Bad day. Everybody sucks.”

Heeseung laughs. “Preaching to the choir.” You immediately realize you neglected to take your shoes off when entering the apartment and scold yourself for bringing dirt onto his hardwood floors.

“Shit,” you say, pulling your legs higher so they’re farther from the surface. “I’m so sorry Heeseung. I’m sorry for barging in.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Take them off, I’ll put them by the door.”

You oblige. Sunghoon holds you to balance your body as you hand each sneaker to Heeseung, who doesn’t look at you weirdly or scold you for interrupting his time with your boyfriend. Instead, he smiles at you and lets you know Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun, another one of Sunghoon’s friends that you met during the movie night, are outside and concerned for you.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” Sunghoon tells you as Heeseung closes the door behind him for a second time. “But they really like you and I know they care about you.”

“I only met them once,” you hiccup, toying with the hem attached to the bottom of his shirt. “How could they possibly like me?”

Sunghoon laughs and kisses your cheek. “I talk about you all the time. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you and would rather hang out with you instead.”

“You do?”

He nods. “Mhm. I have the best girlfriend in the world, you know. They had a lot of fun getting to know you and were planning on inviting you to a barbecue Jongseong’s having next weekend.”

“Really?”

Your doe-like eyes makes Sunghoon’s heart melt. He nods and kisses your nose. “Yes, baby. They love you. Not as much as I do, but a close second.” Hearing you laugh makes him breathe easier.

“I still feel bad for ruining your guys’ night,” you say with a pout.

Sunghoon eases your mind and presses a tender kiss to your lips to displace said pout. “We’ve all been there. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to your place and sleep?”

You shake your head. “This is your night. I don’t want to interrupt and make things awkward.”

“Why don’t we at least get you some water. You don’t have to say anything but at least drink something so you’re not dehydrated.” You don’t want to get up and face the embarrassment of the other three boys seeing you cry, but you know Sunghoon is right. After all the crying you’ve done, you’re feeling parched.

You nod and stand from him, all while he still has one hand in yours. Moments like this make you appreciate Sunghoon even more than you already do. He’s willing to do anything for you at the drop of a hat and it gives you butterflies when you remember this handsome, generous man is your boyfriend.

Jongseong and Jaeyun look at you with concerned eyes when you meet them outside. You try to speak but your mouth keeps opening and closing as you find the words to say.

“I’m okay,” you tell them. “And I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Jongseong hands you a glass of water. “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. Everyone has bad days.”

“Yeah, but you guys haven’t seen Hoon in forever and this was supposed to be your weekend.” Your sincere apology and the cracks in your voice make Jaeyun’s eyes water too.

“It’s alright,” he tells you sincerely. “We love hanging out with you. You should stay and we can watch movies. We were gonna do that anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Jongseong and I want you to stay,” Heeseung says. The two of them nod. “You shouldn’t be alone when you feel like this.”

“Fuck,” you say, voice cracking to the point where it makes you laugh. The four boys laugh as well and feel the relief in the air around them. “You guys are too nice.”

“We were gonna order takeout too,” Jongseong says, pulling his phone out. “We were thinking maybe fried chicken but Hoon says you love Thai food. Why don’t we order stuff from the place around the block and eat it family style?”

“Oh, you don’t have to change it for me.”

Jongseong waves you off. “Nah. We all love Thai. Any excuse to eat it.”

“And don’t think about paying us back,” Jaeyun says with a genuine smile. “I’ll pay for it.”

“We’ll split it by four,” Heeseung adds.

Jongseong lets you put in your order and everybody else follows suit. Sunghoon has you tucked underneath his chin as the whole ordeal happens and kisses the side of your face every so often.

“Feel better?” He asks, mouth against your ear. His warm breath is comforting, as to remind you that he’ll always be there for you.

“Much better.” Your voice is no longer brittle from your cries. Sunghoon smiles.

“My sweet baby,” he coos. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

“What about when I’m not crying?”

“Still pretty.” He squishes your cheeks with his hands and pressed a kiss to your fattened lips. “Adorable, even.”

Jaeyun looks at the two of you and laughs. He can only hope that he’ll feel like that with someone someday. It compels him to say something.

“You guys are stupid cute.”

Sunghoon says nothing. He smiles at his friend and squeezes you tighter. Having him to lean back on makes you feel like you might be the luckiest girl in the world.

***

comments and reblogs would be appreciated! xx

[bluebellhairpin]

Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north. 

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay. 

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less. 

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too. 

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.” 

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach. 

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?” 

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.” 

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone. 

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.” 

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.” 

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal. 

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.” 

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow. 

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, “I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers. 

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back. 

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed. 

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be? 

“A direwolf?” 

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.” 

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good. 

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.” 

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.” 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was. 

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do. 

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker. 

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried. 

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close. 

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake. 

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned. 

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere. 

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge. 

He���d been hostile before, but this was aggressive. 

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds. 

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless. 

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder. 

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling. 

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease. 

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned. 

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck. 

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears. 

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.” 

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was. 

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned. 

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour. 

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach. 

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand. 

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms. 

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said. 

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway. 

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug. 

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?” 

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.” 

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.” 

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.” 

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his. 

“I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek. 

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[gloxk]

Sneaky linkin’

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: i’m not COMPLETELY back, but I am making a slight improvement w my mental health… so here’s sum slight for yall🤷🏽‍♀️. I kinda hate this but maybe yall will like it..ion know. Luv ya tho. 17+.

Synopsis: Aot men as sneaky links.

Warning: Smut.. F/M

━━━━━━━⚠︎━━━━━━━

Eren! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ———Back seat bandit

Eren..is definitely a back seat bandit. It’s mainly because he has a nice car, why not show it off?

Now, all i’m going to say is (Persian rugs- jacquees version.) Oh lawwwd, he definitely plays that while giving the most sloppiest, nastiest, messiest, back arching back shots ever. This man does NOT play.

Hair puller, choker, dirty talker. He’s the type to make you tell him how good he’s fucking you. “Uh-huh, right there? You like that baby?” And you better tell him too.

The hair pulling thing just comes by instinct. You could be giving this man the sloppiest head ever, deep throating him till hes hitting the back of your esophagus and all. The type of head that makes him feel like he’s shifting reality. He will tug your hair to get a real good look at your face, saliva dripping down your chin and red coating your face. A face that just screams ‘ Am I making you happy?’. He would stare at you with a shit eating grin just while the camera flash hits your face.

Degrading as fuck. He would just say some shit to boost his ego during sex. “I know you like that shit, stop acting like you don’t.” & “You can scream my name louder than that. Try again.” & “Stop fuckin running.” Don’t be fooled now, he’s also going to talk you through it and give you reassurance. “You doin so good f’me.” & “it’s all yours mami.” & “You look so pretty right now.”

Ugh this man just loves to have his hand wrapped around your body. Around your waist, neck, thighs, hands—it don’t matter to him. He loves touching on you. Any time yall link his hands just find their way over your body.

Connie! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— Any time any where

Connie..is the type of guy who can fuck ANYWHERE. Car, room, closet, random family bathroom at a gas station—he don’t care.

If you’re down, he’s down. Y’all could be out shopping and he fucks you in the dressing room.

This man LOVES when you ride him. He would just watch you in awe while you bounce up and down on him.

Definitely a talker during sex, he loves telling you how good you’re doing. “Mhm—fuck—I love when you do that.” & “Cmoonn look at me while you do it.” & “Arch that back mama.”

Now, he’s a recorder. He records everything. He has a little folder in his phone dedicated to your link ups.

Although he’s gonna dick you down anywhere he can, his favorite place is the shower. Got some music playing in the background (P power - gunna) while he’s plowing into you. The shower couldn’t even cover up your loud moans.

Pull out ? Nah, “You wanna be grown, let’s be grown baby.” He doesn’t believe in wasting, so either you sucking it up or taking that shit.

Armin! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— munch

Armin..is an eater. He’s gonna eat like it’s his last meal every fucking time. His tongue game is vicious. Absolutely diabolical, the messiest head you will ever get.

Salvia dripping on the couch, tears falling from your eyes due to overstimulation, legs locking around his head—he still wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop till you force him to.

Hold on now, Armin ain’t just an eater, he got good dick too. He’s a saint that’s gonna fuck you like a sinner. Let him get some liquor in his system and you’re going to be begging for round 2.

Speaking of drunk Armin, he’s gonna fuck you against a wall. Just something that’s going to happen one way or the other. One leg in the air while the other dangles just above the floor, his hands gripping on your ass so hard it leaves a mark.

Oh it doesn’t stop there either, he’s going to stumble his way to the bed and take you there too.

Hella vocal whimpering, moaning, whispering. He’s going to let you know your pussy good. “God-you feel so fuckin good.” & “Please keep doing that.”

Loves teaching you new things, different kinks, positions, anything of the sort. I know he just loves exploring and experimenting things with you. He’s a freaky freak for sure. <3

━━━━━━━⚠︎━━━━━━━

whore…

[risestarkiss]

Orange, Baby!

Rise Ramblings #316

When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.

As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.

On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.

At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.

Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.

Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.

Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.

Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!

Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.

In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch. (For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)

At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.

For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.

In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.

But here is Mikey to the rescue!

Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.

Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.

Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.

How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?

You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.

Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.

Let me explain.

All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).

Well, what does Mikey struggle with?

In my humble opinion, nothing.

The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.

Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.

Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.

And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:

and this,

and this.

Let’s get back to the scene in the library.

Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.

He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.

This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.

Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.

It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.

Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more. Over…

and over,

and over again

he trusts them completely.

And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…

and over…

and over again.

Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.

All because, he’s Orange, baby!

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[bigfatbimbo]

Take a Bite

1.5k words,, Bill Cipher x Reader

summary — Bill and the reader have sex, which has proven to be very difficult seeing as he isn’t doing anything, and, of course, things are never easy with that insufferable brat.

warnings — SMUT, bill being annoying and toxic, dom!reader, sub!Bill, heavy pain kink, bill’s human form, the fat fuck not the twink

a/n — Admittedly, this fic only happened because I never see Bill sub in fanfics and i’m very interested in what the dynamic would be. You’d be like… domming with a risk of death.

“Well, slick,” Bill leaned back and gestured up and down his body, “Give it your all.”

Amusement was thick in his voice, along with bubbling giddiness. He fumbled with the seams on his pants, not out of nervousness, but as if he had forgotten how to take them off and was looking for some kind of zipper. One, admittedly, that he would not find on slacks. 

“Wow, human clothes are just as bad as the fleshbags. So needlessly complicated,” He sounded on the verge of a laughing fit, “Oh, and toots? Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.” 

His amusement was not matched on your part. The situation invoked dull curiosity at best, in your opinion. The idea of harboring a wanted criminal, ex-overlord, god-like demon in your house challenged your idea of a good time. Having sex with that demon was even harder to swallow.

Then again, any situation with bill warranted an ungodly amount of stress. 

“Whatcha’ thinking about over there, sweet-cheeks?”

You smiled at that; of the few advantages you have, being in gravity falls for weirdmageddon proved to be one of them. You know of his powers, and with that, vague guesses on how to prevent them.

Tinfoil-lined bobbie pins were one of them. A guess, granted, but a good one at that. Really, not that complicated when you recall every alien movie you’ve ever watched. 

“Upset you can’t tell?” 

He laughed, “Upset for you, maybe. Trust me, it’d be so much easier for both of us if I could just read your thoughts. I’m already your roommate, how much closer could we ge- Ah.”

You brushed his pants crotch, and began to unbutton. For all his mightiness, the guy couldn’t work pants. “Careful, human body’s are touchy.” 

“Touchy,” He repeated, “Tell me about.” 

Getting his pants off was a task harder than it should have been, no thanks to Bill, who seemed to have taken to just lying there, occasionally flicking you, and then himself. 

When you finally peeled all of his clothes off, you warned him to brace himself, to which he ignored you. On top of that, the entire time Bill had been talking, droning on about ‘the last time he’d been in a human body.’

You wondered vaguely if he’d ever done this with someone else. In the time he’d been at your house he’d mentioned some ‘sixer’ ex-thing-ish of his. But you doubt he’d done anything with him.

As he’d mentioned, he hadn’t perfected his human form until very recently. Perfected is a strong word, he was pudgy and short, remanisent of a human peanut. And his teeth were terrible. 

Either way, you’d gotten him ready, and began your work. Laying a light finger on the tip of his dick, and running it down the base of his length, you got Bills first reaction: a short sniff.

Recovering fast, he adjusted his seat, “Yeah, tick tock, toots. This better be good.” 

It was his idea, you thought, but continued. Your fingers wrapped around the entirety of his cock and you began to stroke it. 

A sigh left Bills mouth, “Oh, this does have a kick to it. Maybe you’re not so bad, after all.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, you’d grow angrier and angrier. Although you were clearing making him feel good, he’d never shut his snide mouth for two seconds. 

“Jesus, slow down, pal— I just perfected this flesh-bag, at this rate your gonna break something—“ 

You didn’t realize how much your hand sped up. You thought for a moment, before completely stopping. Bill looked taken aback.

“Hey! what’s the—“

Without warning you grabbed his dick with full force and squeezed. He yelped, before giggling at the hurt.

This made you more mad, “God, do you ever shut up? I wish you’d lost your voice when you lost Gravity Falls.”

He stopped giggling. “I’d watch what you say, if I was you, kid.”

You threw your head back and laughed, running your hand slowly up his dick and then slamming back to the base of his cock. Finally, a reaction other than knowing bliss: anger. Weakness.

“Oh dear god, rearrange the features of my face then, Billy. See if I give a shit when you don’t have a place to live.”

His face turned red with rage, and he recoiled at the mention of your upperhand. And then, finally, at the slowing of your hand, a small, wavering whimper. 

You both caught it, and he was quick to put a hand of his mouth, “Sensitive human bodies - Hey, don’t look at me like that, that was not my fault.”

“God, you’re such a brat.”

“Oh please, what are you gonna do about it?” And he was completely serious.

Without much hesitation, you took the moment as an opportunity to abruptly sink yourself onto his dick. He sucked in a breath but you didn’t give him much time to do anything else.

“Ah- Now we’re talki—“ You slapped him hard across the face, and grabbed his cheeks with your hand, squishing them together, mockingly. Stifled laughter from Bill. 

“This is the form you spent all that time perfecting? I can barely feel anything. It’s worthless!” You sped up riding him, loosening your face to give the illusion you were bored, “You’re worthless.” 

His eyebrows arched down and his eyes widened, “I can kill you with a snap of my fingers! You think I need this sex— You think I need this hous— ah, ah—“

The unknown pleasure was getting to him, making his brain foggier than usual, and it was showing. Human senses were a key factor in your ability to keep the high-ground. Just as long as it felt good enough, he wouldn’t go back to his original form and… well. 

You wondered vaguely if you were actually going to be in mortal parole after this. But then again, the look on his face was almost euphoric, despite the anger. Thankfully, Bill was selfish, he’d probably chase the high again

You sighed, “Oh, you do need this house, Billy. Where else would you go? Everyone else in town has already forgotten about you, and your little maniac friends are no where to be seen.”

You sped up once more as your hands danced up his body, and continued, “With this whole out-of-sight-out-of-mind routine, i’m giving you something you won’t be getting anywhere else: attention.”

“You— Ah, curse this feeble human body! I’ll make your life a living hell-“ He whined, actually whined. 

Slamming yourself down on him, he cried out and then scowled. You raked your nails down his chest, deep enough to bleed, drawing out a  giggle from Bill as he felt the littlest bit of blood start to pool.

“You’re lucky this meatbag is— ah— funny enough—“ He was cut off with a gargle as a your hand sharply wrapped around his throat, and squeezed tight. 

“It’s not luck, i’m good at what I do, Billy. Not that you would know what that’s like, you pathetic shitbag,” although that insult wasn’t particularly true, you didn’t give him a chance to snap back, and instead put your other hand on his neck as well. 

You rode him with more speed than ever now. His eyes fluttered open and shut slowly, and he leaned into your hands. 

His face flushed, but a dreamy smile spread to the edges of his face as you made sure to leave bruise marks on his throat, still slamming against him. 

Although, you didn’t want to actually break him, so when his face began to turn purple, you let go. He gasped for air and let out a raspy, crazed giggle that went on for too long, and ending in a moan.

“I’m— “ Bills eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to decipher what the amusing thing the human body had planned next, “Somethings— somethings happening.”

His voice was broken, neck bruised, cheek red with a slap mark, eyes foggy, and chest bleeding from your nails. 

Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.

Clearly you’d kept your end of the deal, and from what you’ve gathered it was time for the finale. You chased your own climax now as well, even though, admittedly, you hadn’t been thinking about it the whole session.

Annoying as it was that Bill still managed to make something all about him —and he definitely knew, mind reading or not— you still kept up your pace. 

“You’re close?” 

He smiled blissfully, and nodded.

What the hell. You smiled, “Good boy.”

His reaction was… startling. He leaned his head back, let out a small half-whine half-laugh, and arched off the bed. Finally, he released.

[chahnniesroom]

cross my heart

pairing: bang chan & female reader, hwang hyunjin & female reader

summary: chan has quickly become one of your closest friends at university. too bad his girlfriend, hayoon, has him wrapped around her little finger and she's determined to make your life miserable. hyunjin is just enjoying watching the drama unfold.

word count: 4.0k

tags/warnings: angst!!! hurt and maybe some comfort?, infidelity (not between the reader or chan/hyunjin), arguing, the relationships with the reader are more like friendships than dating (please let me know if you think there should be more tags/warnings)

a/n: totally thought this was going to be a short fic (like less than 1k words) but it blossomed into something more. i wanted to try something different with this fic but not sure if i pulled it off lol please be kind if you comment! i also did not to bother with honourifics so... you can pretend that chan, hyunjin, and y/n are all the same age 😅

read it on ao3 | masterlist

It's almost funny how quickly you and Chan become friends. 

You hadn't really been looking forward to taking a technical writing class, but it's one of the requirements to get your degree and at least the lecture is large enough that you won't have to do any in-class participation. When the professor announces that one of the very first assignments is going to be completed in random pairs, you're instantly nervous. It’s only after meeting Chan, who is easygoing yet studious, that you feel better.

Although the group assignment only takes a couple weeks to finish, you find yourself hanging out more and more. Chan has a natural way of writing, he's intelligent and efficient with his wording without sacrificing clarity. While you can eventually write something that’s fairly clear and concise, it takes a lot of effort and a lot of time so you're grateful to be working with Chan who doesn't struggle with tight timelines like you do.

The two of you grow close together, especially once you realise that you have a similar sense of humour and taste in music. It doesn't take long before technical writing is your favourite class. Chan always saves you a seat beside him, even though he has quite a few friends that are also taking this course. You’re not used to it at first, but you grow comfortable with the way that he leans over to make quips about whatever the professor is saying or pointing out if someone in the lecture hall is falling asleep. You sometimes bring him snacks and in exchange he brings you a drink.

The more you learn about Chan, the more you're convinced that he's perfect.

Well, apart from one thing.

The worst thing about Chan is his girlfriend. Jung Hayoon absolutely hates you and, behind Chan's back, never fails to make sure you know it too. While the two of you have never shared any courses, she regularly meets Chan after class is over and you've been invited to join them and some other friends for a meal or to study so you've interacted with her more than you want to.

You’re not quite sure what you've done to earn Hayoon's ire, but you can only guess that it's your blossoming friendship with Chan as she’s never seemed to care about you before you met him. She takes every opportunity to make backhanded compliments, pointed comments about how much or what you're eating, or loudly exclaiming when you have something stuck in your teeth. You try not to let it get to you, but you're always been a bit too sensitive.

You start declining offers to hang out with Chan and the rest of his friends after class, trying to ignore Chan's disappointment and Hayoon's smug smile every time that you make excuses.

Of course, she's sickly sweet around Chan, constantly hanging off his arm, batting her eyes at him, and trying to hold his attention. You can't really stand her obviously fake behaviour, but she makes Chan happy so you don't say anything negative about her when Chan's around.

You aren’t the type to keep up with school gossip, but even you know that Hayoon's track record is far from pristine. In fact, you were surprised to hear that someone as genuine and kind as Chan was in a relationship with someone like Hayoon.

—

The library isn't your favourite place to study, but partway through midterm season you're desperate for a change in scenery. You spend the better part of the day completing practice exams for the course you're the most worried about until you finally feel more confident. Satisfied with your progress and excited at the prospect of eating a proper meal rather than the snacks that have kept you going so far, you quickly pack up.

There aren't too many people in the library since it’s so close to the weekend, a lot of students have either finished all of their exams for the week or just given up studying. Maybe that's why your attention seems so drawn to the couple that you pass on the way to the door.

You don't mean to do anything other than quickly glance at them, but the familiarity of the girl catches your eye. The carefully styled hair and slim figure is a common combination to see at your university, but after weeks of trying to avoid her, there’s no mistaking Jung Hayoon.

And it's not Chan that she’s currently kissing.

You stumble away from them, but not before Hayoon looks up and spots you. Instead of panicking or stopping, she continues making out with the boy, maintaining eye contact with you. She even has the audacity to wink. You stare at her for a second, stunned, then bolt out of the building.

You're so flustered that you don't know what to do or where to go. You end up walking to the nearest bench and sitting down heavily in it.

You knew that you didn't like Hayoon, that she was two-faced and had likely cheated on past partners, but you hadn't expected to ever catch her in the act, especially while she was dating Chan. You couldn't fathom why anybody would want anything else when they had him and you had never been able to understand cheating in the first place.

You have to tell Chan, you decide. As much as you hate difficult conversations and it kills you to be the bringer of bad news, you know that you'd never be able to sleep at night if you tried to hide this from him. If you were in his position, you would prefer to know as soon as possible.

You call him as you start heading in the direction of his dorm.

“Hey,” Chan picks up after only a few rings. “Is everything okay? You don't usually call.”

“Uhm-” You have no clue what to say, you didn't think this through enough before dialling. “Where are you? I- Can I come talk to you?”

“Y/n? What's wrong?” Chan's instantly concerned.

“Nothing, I just- I really need to talk to someone right now,” you say quickly. “I'm fine, I mean.”

“Okay. I'm at home right now, but I can come meet you if you need? Where are you?”

“Don't worry about it, I'll head over, if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Chan says, sounding extremely worried. “Be safe, Y/n. I'll see you soon.”

After you hang up, you don't quite run to Chan's place, but you're out of breath and sweaty by the time you make it. You take a moment to compose yourself before requesting access into the building, but you know you still look frazzled. Chan buzzes you in immediately and he’s waiting in the hallway when you step out of the elevator. He guides you into his room, but only after checking you over and making sure that you're physically okay.

“Y/n, you're scaring me,” he says after leading both of you to sit down at his tiny kitchen table. “Tell me what's got you so worked up.”

“Do you know where Hayoon is today?” you ask, probably sounding insane. Chan pauses for a moment, brow furrowed before he responds.

“I know that she has an exam tomorrow, so I assume that she's studying. Why, what's up?”

“She didn't say where or who she was going to be with today?”

“No, but it's not like I'm tracking her all the time. She's her own person, she's not obligated to constantly update me.”

“I saw her at the library.”

“Okay,” Chan says slowly.

“She was with someone else, a guy.”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/n?” Chan asks, starting to sound annoyed. His tone catches you off guard.  “This is why you called me, why you ran over to my place? If you think I'm that controlling-”

“They were kissing,” you interrupt. “She’s cheating on you, Chan.”

“Who was the guy?”

“I- I didn't see him well, his back was towards me so I couldn't recognize him,” you falter.

“Did you take a picture? Was there anyone else around?”

“No- but, I-”

“So I'm just supposed to believe you,” he says flatly.

“What? Why would I make this up?”

“I know that, for some reason, you don’t like Hayoon.” Chan's usually friendly voice is cold and his face is stony. “I can live with that. I mean, of course it would be nice if you were at least civil to her. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to, she’s my girlfriend and not yours.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “but how would lying about this benefit me at all?”

“She warned me about this, you know. She said you were jealous. Of her. Of us. That you would do something to try and break us up.” Chan laughs, but the sound is empty. “I always defended you, which she hated. I don't know how many times I told her that you weren't like that, that there was nothing going on between us.”

“Well I can assure you that I’m not jealous. That I’m not trying to break you two up.”

“I know that there’s… chemistry between us,” Chan acknowledges. “I don't have that many close female friends and I didn't before I started dating Hayoon either, but I know that I like your company and that you're easy to talk to. But that's all. It's fine if you're interested in me, you can’t help your feelings, but accusing my girlfriend of cheating? That’s sick, Y/n.”

“Are you kidding me? There is nothing going on between us.” you say incredulously. “Listen Chan, I’m saying this, I'm here as a friend. You think I'm lying? You think I want to hurt you?”

“I think that maybe Hayoon had a point when she said you wouldn't be satisfied with just being friends.”

“That's what you think of me?” you ask, feeling hurt. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn't do that. I respect you as a friend, I respect you as a person, and I respect your relationship whether I like your partner or not. But if that’s how you see me, I’m not sure that we were ever really friends. I would never try to sabotage you or anybody that's happily in a relationship.” Chan's face drops at your words.

“Y/n-” he starts to say, but you've had enough of this conversation.

“Look- I came here because I knew I would feel terrible and guilty if I didn't, but I can't convince you of something you don't want to believe.” You shake your head and walk towards the door.

Chan doesn't try to stop you as you leave.

 —

The next day you get to class 15 minutes before it’s supposed to start. You're exhausted, have your eyes swollen from crying when you got back home last night, and most of all, feel hurt. You had been a little worried about how Chan would react to what you had to tell him, but you never expected that he would dismiss you without a thought. It's hard to reconcile with the upbeat and kind seatmate that you're used to.

Instead of your usual seat near the middle of the classroom, you opt for one off to the side that’s often emptier, not wanting to have to talk to or even see Chan. You pull up an assignment that you’ve been procrastinating working on and manage to ignore the rest of your classmates as they filter into the lecture hall. It’s only when someone slides into the seat right next to you that you look up, surprised anybody would approach you when you’re clearly being unsociable and look awful.

“Hyunjin.” You’re too shocked to even say hello.

“That’s my name,” Hyunjin replies, looking unimpressed by your greeting as he pulls out his laptop. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry, good morning. You don’t usually sit with me.” You can’t help but point out the obvious. 

In fact, Hyunjin usually doesn't sit with anyone. He's popular, it'd be hard not to be when you look as good as he does, but it's in a different way than Chan. While Chan seems to know practically everybody on campus, Hyunjin is almost untouchable.

While there are hoards of girls and guys that would love to have even a sliver of his attention, Hyunjin has a small circle of friends and is more interested in escaping the lecture hall to paint or dance than socialise. The only reason that you know him is because one of your closest childhood friends, Minho, is on the same dance crew as him and the three of you sometimes hang out. You wouldn't say that Hyunjin is more than an acquaintance though, he still intimidates you enough that you never would have tried to approach him first.

“And you don’t usually sit over here.” Hyunjin pretends to stretch and turns to look at your usual spot. “Avoiding someone?”

“Maybe.” You blush, embarrassed to be so easily seen through. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, I just figured it was a matter of time before Hayoon got under your skin enough. I'm actually impressed you lasted this long, she really has it out for you.” While Hyunjin is surprisingly perceptive, you've also spent a fair bit of time ranting about Hayoon to Minho, and as a result, Hyunjin is kept up to speed on everything that Hayoon has done to antagonise you. You never realised that he actually paid enough attention to remember or that he agreed that Hayoon treated you like dirt.

“Actually, she’s not the one that I don’t want to talk to. Well, I never want to talk to her, but I’m not avoiding her.”

“No way,” Hyunjin crowds into your personal space, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Chan?”

You’ve had a pit in your stomach since last night’s argument and your mouth dries up at the thought of being so vulnerable, but something about the way that Hyunjin's eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth has formed a little shocked ‘o’ is so disarming. 

“We had a disagreement last night,” you admit.

“Hayoon cheated?” he guesses.

Now it's your turn for your mouth to drop open in shock.

“Don't say it so loud,” you hiss. “How did you know?”

“Well, as much as I usually like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially for something this serious…” Hyunjin grimaces slightly. “I’ve been kind of expecting it. Hasn't she done the same on her past three or four boyfriends?”

“Oof, that bad? I've heard some things, but never really knew for sure.”

“At least,” Hyunjin confirms. “Honestly, I'd be more shocked if she didn't cheat at this point. I'm guessing Chan didn't take it so well if you're upset with him.”

“He's loyal to a fault, literally!” you complain. “In his eyes, Hayoon can’t do anything wrong, he's able to explain away everything she does. He didn’t believe that it was her that I saw.”

“So what are you going to do?” Hyunjin asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say sullenly. “As much as I'd like to shake some sense into him, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions and if he wants to live in denial, that's up to him.”

“You're a good friend.” Hyunjin reaches out tentatively and after an awkward second, pats your shoulder. “Not everyone would be brave enough to have that kind of difficult conversation. Chan may be stubborn right now, but he'll appreciate it later.”

“Well based on yesterday, I don't think I'm his friend at all,” you huff. “Anyway, if it's okay with you, I don't think that I will make it through the rest of the term if I have to sit over there.”

“Be my guest.” Hyunjin grins and the sight of it makes the lecture a bit easier to sit through.

—

You don’t talk to Chan for the rest of the term. While you stopped outright avoiding him, you’re pretty sure that he’s purposely steering clear of you. Instead, you continue to sit with Hyunjin and pretend that Chan doesn’t exist.

It feels silly that you miss him or that you can’t seem to get over how things ended between the two of you. You had only been friends for two months, you shouldn’t be so hurt every time he purposely turns away from you or when his eyes seem to slide over you like you’re not there.

Hyunjin basically becomes your part-time therapist. Most of the time, it’s enough that he keeps you distracted. He shares all the latest campus gossip with you, allows you to work while he paints, and invites you to hang out with Minho and the rest of their dance crew more than a few times. On the rare occasion when you’re feeling more fragile than usual, he would be willing to spend an evening at your place and listen to you wallow.

“It’s fair that you’re still upset,” he had comforted you once. You had run into Hayoon in the bathroom that afternoon and she had gloated about how nothing and nobody would be able to break her and Chan apart. It had made you feel sick to the stomach. “There was never any resolution. Chan didn’t believe you, doesn’t believe you, even though you went to him with good intentions and it’s reasonable that you would feel hurt or frustrated.”

“I feel so stupid,” you had sniffled. “It’s not even like it was a break up. We were just friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, you’re still missing someone who used to be in your life. It’ll get easier next term when you don’t share a class, I promise.” Somehow, that actually had made you feel better.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you had said with a watery smile.

The two of you work out well together, not just because you enjoy each other’s presence, but also because there’s no expectations or pressure. Hyunjin has slowly started to share with you stories about his previous relationships, how he’s hesitant to start dating again after having his heart broken so many times. Even though there are rumours swirling about the two of you, you know that neither of you are ready for it yet and that’s partly why it's so easy to hang out with him.

Tonight, the two of you are just hanging out in his art studio. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you’ve just finished the exam that you've been dreading the most and don't have the brain capacity to even think about school. You know that Hyunjin is doing the same, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but he's trying to pretend that he's working since his painting is due the next day.

He drops all pretences when he gasps loudly at something that he sees on his phone.

“Y/n,” he says gravely.

“What?” you ask, only slightly curious. By now, you've gotten used to the fact that Hyunjin would react the same way to seeing a cute puppy video as he would finding out about some terrible news.

“A friend just texted me,” he says, still in shock.

“Okay? What did they say?”

Hyunjin looks up at you for a moment, down at his phone, then back up at you.

“ChanandHayoonbrokeup,” he says in a rush, before wincing, clearly afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“What?” You can't believe your ears.

“Chan and Hayoon, apparently they broke up this afternoon. Someone heard them shouting at each other.”

You put down your pencil slowly, not sure what to think.

“Do you know why?”

“Someone said that they heard that yesterday, Heeyeon and Yikyung broke up because Yikyung cheated on her. I think it must be related,” Hyunjin says quietly.

“Oh.”

“I think there's pictures or a video out there, I haven't seen anything yet though,” Hyunjin continues on, starting to get excited while typing away on his phone. 

“Oh,” you say again, at a loss for actual words.

“Right before the holidays too, that's so-” Hyunjin cuts himself off when he looks up and sees you frozen in place. “Y/n, are you okay? Sorry, I'm sure it's a lot to process-”

“No, it's fine.” You force a smile. “I just- I think I have to go home now.”

“Y/n-”

“Really, it's okay. I just forgot that I have something to do. At home. Sorry.”

Hyunjin stares at you with eyes filled with something akin to pity, but doesn't say anything else. You try to ignore it as you hurriedly grab your things and leave.

—

A few days later you're packing up your bags in preparation to go home for the winter break when you hear a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anybody, but there's a few friends that you have that like to show up unannounced. 

You're not prepared to open the door and find Chan standing behind it.

He looks terrible. He's wearing a huge hoodie and his hair is tucked away behind a beanie, but nothing can hide the way that his eyes are swollen and his skin is lacking its usual colour. You can only guess that he hasn't been able to eat or sleep much judging from the gauntness of his face and dark circles.

“Chan,” you say carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I was wrong.”

“Ah, Hayoon.”

“You heard?” he asks, face crumpling a little at the mention of his ex.

“It's-” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "Someone mentioned it to me.”

“You must hate me.” Chan laughs humourlessly. “I know that I do. I was such a fool for not trusting you. I just didn't want to believe that she would do that to me. Stupid, I know. I'm really sorry that I said all those things to you, that I avoided you as if that would change the truth.”

For months, you've been waiting, hoping that Chan would come back to you and apologise. But actually hearing it isn't as satisfying as you thought. In fact, you don't really feel anything at all.

“I want to make it up to you,” Chan says earnestly. “Are you free? We can go for a meal and catch up. I missed you.”

“Uhm,” you say, not quite sure how to respond. You don't want to say yes, but you're scared to lose this opportunity.

“Actually, she's busy,” Hyunjin says. He steps out from behind Chan and wraps an arm around your waist possessively, nudging you behind him in the process. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

Normally you hate it when other people talk for you, but right now you're grateful that Hyunjin appeared. You're not even sure why he's here, although you mentioned that this was your last day on campus, the two of you didn't have plans to hang out.

“Oh.” Chan falters. “Are you two… together?”

“And if we are?” Hyunjin asks challengingly. You've never seen him this defensive before. “Frankly, it's none of your business. I'm tired of listening to your half-hearted apologies that are months too late and I'm pretty sure that Y/n isn't interested in them either.”

“Y/n?” Chan pleads.

“Hyunjin's right, I think that you should go,” you say from where you're still hidden behind Hyunjin. You're glad that you don't have to look him in the eyes. “I can't- I'm heading home today. I have to pack before my train leaves this afternoon.”

“Right,” Chan says thickly. “Sorry. I- I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You lean into Hyunjin's back for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear Chan's footsteps trail away. You don't open them for a long time, even when you feel Hyunjin turn around and wrap his arms around you. Instead, you just focus on the steady thump of Hyunjin's heartbeat and try to remember how to breathe.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[endearng]

Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.