#back in the waiting room i turn to @pan and say ' i'm picking up on some weird tension between nurse sean and the doctor'

[padmerrie]

soooooo i was sick for 2 weeks

[bunny-1111]

Falling behind - Theodore Nott

Based on the lyrics of "Falling Behind" by Laufey, where the reader feels like everyone's in a relationship. Too blind to notice that Theodore's been waiting for her all along.

Word count: 0.8k, fluff

...

"Don't you just love this weather" Pansy smiled beside you,

You shake your head, arms crossed, grumpy, it was going to become everyone's problem

"Come on, smell how fresh it is today!" she continues, shaking you gently

"Yeah, all I can smell is a sickly romance in the air" you groan, head tilting back

"Oh, come on, it's nice" she tries to persuade

"You because you have Blaise, alright? Look at how happy you are; look at how alone I am." you huff

She laughs at you. "You're not alone."

"Oh yeah, look around, Pans, Lovers stroll without a care in sight, I care alone, about everything", you complain.

"You're so clueless," she smiles, looking back at the rest of your Slytherin boys. Her eyes observe Theodore, and his eyes watch you.

"Whatever" you mutter, looking behind, eyes falling onto Theo

"he's perfect" you sigh

"how many times do I have to tell you for you to belive me, he likes you too" she insists

"Please Pans, he just nice, thats all" you say looking back to the ground

"Theodore Nott, nice, yeah not to most" she almost laugh

Trailing not too far walked Theo, Blaise and Draco

"Just ask her out already. I'm sick of listening to you talk about it, Nott!" demanded Draco

"Yeah, ask her out, Dray will bring Astoria, I'll bring Pansy, and you bring her", suggested Blaise

"Don't you idiots think I haven't tried? The girls' more oblivious than fucken Flilch during night shift," he sighed.

He takes matters into his own hands, picks a flower, jogs up and offers it out to you

"For you" he smiles

"Thanks, Theo" you accept, smelling the freshly plucked rose, skipping to catch up to Pansy

Pansy looks back at a now-stationed Theodore. She mouths, 'good effort,' he just nods his head. He'll try again tomorrow.

...

"Hey, did you hear we need a date for this Christmas ball thing" you panic

"Yeah, so?" Matteo replies

"So?!, this is horrible news, absolutely abhorrent", you continue

"And why's that?" he continues, unamused

"Not everyone is like you, Matteo, ok! Look at you falling in love with Tracey Davis. Good for you! You don't need to stress about who you'll take," you rant. "Gitt", you finish under your breath

"Should I ask her now?" Theodore asks Lorenzo

"Better time than ever, look at her go" he gestures to you, hands flying around the air as you rant to Matteo

Theodore's eyebrows scrunched together. He was becoming more helpless by the minute. He was beginning to lose count of how many times you had accidentally rejected him.

"look at how passionate she is, Enz, I want her so bad" Theodore admires from the couch behind you

"No one wants me!" you exclaim as if you had almost heard Theo

"Come on now." comforts Matteo, gesturing for you to turn around and face Theodore

When you did turn, your face was met with a worried-looking Theo and a smiling Enzo.

"Look at your faces. You're teasing me" You begin walking out

"Everybody's falling in love, and I'm falling behind!" you scream out, storming out the large common room doors, heading to your dorm

Unbeknownst to you, a deprived Theodore is left standing, hands thrown in the air, in defeat

"Enough now, go fucking get her", Matteo says, not looking up

Theodore shakes his head and begins to follow you, catching up to your door and knocking gently two times to alert you.

When you open the door, he is taken aback

"You're crying, why are you crying," he says quickly

You wipe your running nose and let him in, "I'm not, just coming down with a cold, I think", you try

"Bullshit, you can tell me what's wrong, alright" he smiles, inching closer.

"I'm just frustrated, that's all. They're frustrated tears," you explain quietly

He sits you both on your bed, neither of you saying anything but your eyes and his, looking into each other. The eyes say a thousand words.

"I-" you begin

"When will you get it?" he interrupts

"get what?" you ask

"I have feelings for you, alright, and you're so blindsided you can't come to your senses ad realise." you quickly spills out

"Oh.' you breath out

"yeah, oh." he follows, face frowning

"Why do you look so upset at it?" you question

"Come on, look at your reaction. You've turned me down enough times without even trying, OK? That's it, now I'm frustrated," he says

"Who said I don't have feelings for you, too," you say

"What?" he says, looking up. "Do you?"

You cup his face, softly kissing his lips

You both laugh, pulling off each other

"So why didn't you tell me" he laughs

"Why didn't you?" you reply

"I did, So many times, I tried to show you!!" he smiles

"Well, it worked in the end, Nott." you smile back, leaning in for another kiss

[mistiell]

We Keep this Love in a Photograph

summary: since Joel gifted you a polaroid camera for your birthday, you've developed a habit of sneaking pictures of him whenever possible. He doesn't think he's worth the film "wasted" (His words, not yours), but after catching you looking over your accumulated gallery, you manage to win him over.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Joel's a little self conscious, Reader's gender isn't specified, and they have hair but the length isn't specified either. If I accidentally did use a gendered term, lmk and I shall fix it. <3 NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: HOLY SHIT I'M BACK!!! This fic was inspired by this TikTok. I saw it and the Joel obsession possessed me so viscerally I had to make a comeback lmao.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

---

It started on your birthday.

You’d shared with Joel one evening, wrapped warm and snug in his arms within your soft haven of sheets, during one of those late night conversations where vulnerability doesn’t seem like a thing so daunting, that you used to love photography. Loved immortalizing things you loved or things you found beautiful. He’d asked what kind of camera you’d had, what kind of things you usually took pictures of.

“Polaroid.” you’d told him softly, fighting you keep your eyes open with his tracing shapes into the curve of your waist. “And I already told you. Whatever I found beautiful.”

The morning of your birthday, you woke to the smell of coffee and a clumsily wrapped box sitting on your bedside table with a note taped to the top; Happy birthday, honey. Love, Joel. And in smaller print near the bottom left corner; P.S. Wait until I’m here to open it. Wanna see your face.

You’d smiled, bashful, brushed your teeth in record time, scooped up the box, and made your way downstairs towards the sound sizzling and the tapping of a spatula on a pan. He gave you a good morning kiss, pretended to make a fuss about waiting until after breakfast to open it and watched with a smile as you carefully tore it open, popped off the lid, and visibly softened at first sight of the contents.

It was a polaroid camera. Coincidentally, the very same one you’d had twenty years ago.

You’d cried, he’d panicked. You hugged him so fiercely, any worry that he’d fucked the whole thing vanished as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close.

That was months ago, and in the time since, you’ve accumulated quite the gallery. You take pictures of just about anything and everything, but your main muse is Joel.

Which is what’s led you to have half a shoe box full of polaroid of mostly him. He’s no idea of your little stash, and you intend to keep it that way. You’ve come to learn he’s got a thing about being photographed. Always nitpicking his appearance no matter what you say. He asks sometimes when he catches you why you don’t choose something nicer to look at, and your answer is generally always the same. There is nothing nicer. He walks into a room, and all you want to look at is him. Yeah, he’s got some more lines, got some more meat on his bones, his hair is a little more grey than it is brown these days. But he doesn’t see it the way you do.

He’s got crows feet and smile lines etched almost as deep as the crease between his brows. He looks healthy now that he’s actually got food to eat, meals you’re both sure to share every morning in your kitchen and every evening in the dining hall. His greys are a tangible reminder that he’s alive, that he’s survived, and that he now gets to live, and you’re incomprehensibly grateful for every russet strand turned silver. He’s all the more beautiful for all of it. And here, tucked into your armchair, polaroid pinched between thumb and forefinger, you get to commit every little detail picked up by your camera to memory.

Your gaze follows the sloping curve of his lovely nose, profile softened by the sun shining white behind. It’s only one half of his face, but the beaming smile he’s sporting makes you feel whole. His hair was just starting to get longer, then, curling near his nape and flicking round his ears to kiss his jaw.

“What’s all this?” You startle, head leaning into the plush back of the chair to look at him upside down as you press the pictures into your diaphragm. He seems curious, if a little confused.

Caught, you swallow, “If I said nothing, would you believe me?”

“Not for a second.” He smiles teasingly, bending to give you a quick peck, bottom lip warm where it slots between yours. Your hold on the photos loosens, and when his gaze dips to them, the smile shifts into something closer to a frown, a little cagey, “S’ that me?”

“Yeah.” You answer simply, before joking tentatively, “Swear I’m not a creep. You’re just pretty.”

“See now, that’s exactly what a creep would say.” He teases, and you’re glad for it – that he’s not upset. Rounding the chair, he sits on the arm, elbow propped up on the soft back of it and knuckles warm on the nape of your neck.

“Pretty.” He echoes, blowing a short puff of air out his nose, “Never been called that before.”

“Well, you are.”

He smiles again, bashful and a little disbelieving. There’s a short moment where he just looks at you like that, backs of his fingers sliding down your spine a few notches then back up in a tender line before he juts his chin toward your collection. “Show me?”

Warmth blooms in your stomach and fizzes up behind your sternum. You grin, handing him the one you were holding before sifting through the shoe box for your best works. He accepts your compliments and sweet talking reluctantly, but hangs onto your every word as you describe where you were, what you were doing, what made you sneak the picture in the first place.

You start to worry his limited responses mean he’s gotten caught up in his head until his hand slides up the side of your neck and settles over the side of your head, the warmth of his calloused palm encompassing the entirety of your ear as he guides your temple to his lips.

“Love you.” He murmurs into your hair, and the warmth sizzles like its carbonated, bubbling and burbling within the cage of your ribs.

You turn your face, slip your fingers beneath the curtain of hair at his nape and lift your chin to kiss him soft and slow. He rubs an affectionate line into the soft skin behind your hear as he hums, vibrations thrumming against your lips.

You lean back just enough to murmur, “I love you to.”

He smiles, kisses you again. And again. And once more. He asks you to show him more of your pictures, and you oblige. It’s early evening when you’re finally through, at which point Ellie’s come home and Joel’s started on dinner. You let her sift through the polaroids while you move to join Joel at the counter.

You won’t realize until later that she’s snuck a photo of the two of you by the stove, Joel’s large palm on the small of your back where you’ve taken over stirring a pot, gazing at you like you’re the only thing he’d like to listen to for the rest of his days as you talk and talk and talk.

That one, he hangs on the fridge.

[dokyumms]

omg the mingyu fic is so good!!🩷🩷 Can you do sleepy Hoshi (because new cb!!) or Vernon? 🙈🙈 Your writing is amazing

pairings: hoshi x 14thmember!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 635

cw: none

a/n: thank you so much anon! this turned out way longer than i expected... i just decided to do another 14th member reader bc that's what i did for the mingyu one. it doesn't play that much of a role tho tbh. ALSO sorry about my inconsistent formatting; i'm still experimenting with it, but i will land on something soon. hope you enjoy this regardless (๑>◡<๑)

"i'm home～" you sing-song as enter you and hoshi's shared apartment. you don't really expect an answer, taking off your shoes and heading straight to the kitchen for a post work out snack. hoshi has been undoubtly busier than ever, preparing for a comeback just days after a tour- who decided this dumb schedule? like hell, you haven't even recovered from the last 15 aju nices. anyway, because of it, he started coming home later, so your evening routine has just been snacking, showering, waiting for hoshi to come home, falling asleep while waiting for him, and then waking up to him carrying you to your room. today, sadly, seems to be no different.

it isn't until you're practically in the fridge when you realize the kitchen light had already been on when you walked in. paranoid, you call out, "anyone home?"- no answer.

there's no way- did someone break in? you text hoshi: hey babe, did you forget to turn off the kitchen light before you left? pocketing your phone when he doesn't reply, you decide it was probably just you who forgot, still picking up a pan to protect you while you check every room in the house anyway.

after checking the laundry room, bathroom, pantry, and coat closet, you make your way to your room. you're about to open the door when you hear shuffling. "seriously?" you mutter, ready to take out whoever is in your apartment. swinging open the door, you scan the room. there's no one, well almost no one. you realize- no, it was not some burglar who was in your home- just an innocent little hoshi rustling around in his sleep with a tamtam plushie held to his chest.

you sigh in relief, putting the pan somewhere and walking toward the bed. "since when did he come home?" you ask yourself. inspecting him closely, you realize that hoshi really does look cute with tamtam. naturally, you pull out your phone to take a picture, snapping a photo before realizing your flash had automatically turned on. hoshi's brows furrow at the sudden light and he slowly blinks his eyes open. "y/n?" he murmurs while rubbing his eyes. "sorry hosh, my flash just turned on." you explain, smiling sheepishly before leaning down to give him a kiss on his head. you watch his eyes form small crescents in response before he tugs at your shirt, "come here,"

"babe, i haven't even showered-" you try to argue, but hoshi is already throwing tamtam across the room and pulling you into the bed. "just for five minutes," he whispers, draping his leg across your body. hoshi is always more cuddly than usual when he's tired like this, always koala-latching onto you. you don't even try to fight back, relishing in his warmth as he litters your face in small pecks. "i didn't expect you to be home early," you say. "me too, but i guess all my hard work has paid off. don't need to learn any new choreo." he opens his eyes again, lifting his head a little and looks at the pan you left on a nearby chair. "why's there a pan?" you don't respond, just giggling softly before opting to distract him with a kiss.

it's a slow, almost sensual kiss, neither of you having the energy for a full on make out session. he hugs his arms around your waist as you bring your hands to his neck in muscle memory. when you both part, he leans his forehead against yours, smiling softly. you love seeing hoshi like this: barefaced, cheeks a little flushed, and lips tugged into that adorable grin. he pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his head into your neck as he slowly begins to fall asleep again. you could really never get enough of this.

[writingwisterias]

I'm interested in your writing, it's sweet but I would like to ask for something a little more...funny

the RE guys reacting to their partner asking to have a baby, they take it literally but she was talking about adopting a kitten or a puppy How would they act upon her first request? What would they say when they still don't understand things clearly? And finally, what are they feeling when they see that their partner only wanted a pet to pamper and care for like a baby?

Ooo okay! I love this idea it's so cute! I wrote Leon and Chris but if you want me to do others just let me know!!

Leon Kennedy

You were sat on the sofa waiting for Leon to finally return home from work. The TV filled the silence and the blanket that covered you kept you warm but it still never quite felt like home almost like something was missing. It started off with one of those adoption adverts, planting the little seed in your head. You stewed on it for a few hours opting to ask Leon when he finally got home no longer able to ignore the idea.

You probably could have approached the subject better, maybe asked in it a way where Leon's eyes didn't look like they were about to pop out of his socket. "You know I get real lonely when you aren't here. Do you think we could get a baby?"

The key word in the sentence was 'get' as in purchase but Leon didn't catch on as easily because all he heard was the word 'Baby'. His response was a stumbled mess, his tone higher pitched than normal but he never put right refused. So you left the conversation with the plan to look for shelters and find a little fur baby. Leon on the other hand spent the night staring at the ceiling as you snuggled closer wondering if he had made the right decision or if he was actually ready for this.

He was confused when he returned home the next day to the sound of a tiny little bell ringing around the house. It was until he came into the front room to see you playing around with a tiny kitten. The feather hanging in front of it as it attacked it. A laugh leaving your lips as you watched the poor thing stumble all over itself. "What is this?" He asks bluntly, his voice making both you and the kitten jump because you didn't know he was there. "A kitten? You said it was okay yesterday" you replied. Leon was so confused, trying to think back to every single conversation you all had until he finally realized you weren't talking about an actual baby yesterday.

The two of you played with the little kitten all afternoon, making sure the apartment was suitable for the new joy. You smiled at the sight of the little ball curled up on Leon's lap, his finger mindlessly stroking the fur. Purs leaving the cats mouth. "We can still practice for a baby right?" Leon broke the silence with a shit eating grin.

Chris Redfield

I think it would pan out in a similar fashion to Leon only Chris would be wayyy more excited. He's older and is ready to settle down so he would shock you with how eager he was thinking about this event. You both spend the evening looking at different items online, your fawning over images of the puppy you were going to pick up tomorrow and Chris is creating a basket full of baby stuff.

Thankfully he didn't purchase any of it though because he returns home in a huge shock to the sound of a bark. You made sure to get a larger dog one to make you feel safe when you are left alone. The puppy was already proving to be a bit of a nightmare, you came skidding in the kitchen with your hair a mess. If he didn't know any better you looked like you were taking care of a child.

You reign the dog in, pulling it away from Chris with a sheepish grin. "Surprise!"

The wheels in his head were turning at first wondering where the conversation for this dog even came to, surely he would have never agreed to this. He then realized he did as is then less than impressed with the animal. He was so excited for a real child.

It takes a few hours and a difficult walk but Chris eventually falls in love with the puppy. You find both of them asleep curled on the sofa together. Like one of those memes where the dad doesn't want the dog. When you go on his phone to Google something a few days later you see the browser open with all the baby products and promise yourself to make sure you and give him that gift. Hopefully it will go down better than the dog chewing holes in his favorite pair of slippers.

[paladin--strait]

bad dream

tiny skates au

connor comforts nate during a bad dream.

-

• connor's pov

as usual, i lay in y/n's bed, her soft snores filling the room. the thunder outside booms, the flash of lightning filling the room through the window. it's a short moment later when i hear the patter of feet running down the hall. my head lifts as the door creaks open, nate's head peaking in. i stand and walk over to him, walking in the hallway and shutting the door behind me.

"hey bud. you okay?" i ask quietly, bending down to his level. "did the thunder wake you?"

his head shakes, "no, i had a bad dream." he says, looking up at me.

"come on, let's get you some water." i stand, taking his hand. i lead him to the kitchen, helping him get on the tall chair that sits under the bar. "you wanna talk about it?" i ask softly, filling a cup with water.

he's quiet as i fill the cup, the sound of running water filling the kitchen. i look over at him, he has a sad look on his face. it breaks my heart to see him looking so sad, he's always been such a happy boy and i hate when he has nightmares.

he's quiet for a moment before he speaks, "you left momma and i...we were all alone and momma was very sad..." he says, looking down at the stuffed hockey puck jellycat that i bought him for his birthday.

i set the glass of water down infront of him and take a seat beside him. "well, i can assure you that won't happen. i won't leave you and your mom, i love her very much." i reassure him. "and i haven't even told your mom that i love her yet. so shh...don't tell her."

a smile graces his face, that happy laugh that he has filling the room, quiet not to wake his mom. "you love my momma?" to which i answer with a nod. "are you gonna marry her?"

his question catches me a bit off guard, but i answer nonetheless. "i want to. your mom is a very kind and sweet woman. she's also very beautiful. she's everything i could ever ask for. and if we do get married, i'll be lucky to have such an awesome son like you."

nate laughs a little more, before climbing onto my lap and hugging me tight. i smile softly, rubbing his back. a few moments later, i hear the sound of his stuffed animal hitting the floor, his breathing slowing. i wait a bit before i stand, careful not to wake him, and walk him to his room.

i kick open his door a little further, trudging over to his bed and setting him down, pulling the covers over his body. i press a gentle kiss to his head, walking back to the kitchen.

i put the glass of water in the fridge for him in the morning, and pick up the stuffed hockey puck. i walk it back to his room and put it on his bed beside him, walking out and shutting the door quietly.

i walk back to y/n's room, shutting the door behind me quietly and getting back in the bed. i pull her close, the sound of thunder still booming outside.

-

i wake up to the smell of bacon and the sound of laughter. i sit up in bed, walking to the kitchen. y/n and nate are cooking breakfast, laughing and stirring things in pots and pans. nate has been loving to cook recently, even though he's only five.

"good morning." i say happily, walking further into the kitchen. "how are my two favorite people doing this morning?"

y/n turns to look at me with a smile, and nate comes running to me. i pick him up in a hug, his laugh ringing through the kitchen. but it all goes silent at the next words he says. "morning dad!"

i go silent, looking at him. i hear the clatter of a spoon dropping to the floor, y/n looking over at us in shock. nate's laughter stops and he looks at my surprised expression. "i'm sorry..." he whispers, his lip beginning to wobble.

"oh no buddy, don't be sorry!" i say, rubbing his back softly. "i was just surprised is all. i would love it if you wanna call me dad." i smile down at him, looking over at y/n.

her hand is over her mouth, covering her smile. she's crying a little too, walking over to us. her next words make me smile wider, "how about we let go of dad and we serve him this delicious breakfast we made?"

nate smiles and leaps out of my arms, running over to the counter and grabbing a plate of fruit. i look over at y/n, wrapping my arms around her waist. she looks up at me with a happy smile.

her arms wrap around my neck, pecking my lips. "morning, dad." she laughs, looking at me.

"morning, mom" i laugh, poking her cheek softly, something that always has her breaking out into a fit of happy giggles. we walk over to the table to eat our breakfast, all together as one happy family.

-

my bag is slung over my shoulder for practice as i slip on my shoes. y/n walks over to me, a frown on her face. i set down my bag, hugging her tight. "please be careful at practice today, i don't want you getting hurt again."

"i will, i promise." i smile as she lets me go, allowing me to grab my bag. "i'll be home before you know it. you wanted me to bring home dinner, right?"

she nods, "yeah, nate got really good grades last month so i wanted to reward him a little bit. can you go to that place he really likes? i can place the order online and all you'll have to do is pick it up."

i nod, walking with her to the door. the apartment is quiet since nate is at school. "sounds good to me. i'll see you later, i love you." i smile, kissing her lips softly.

her eyes widen in shock, "connor...you love me?" she asks, dumbfounded at my words. i nod with a grin, "i love you too."

her words make me smile impossibly bigger, the biggest smile i've ever shown. she bids me a sad goodbye, waving as i leave for practice. i'm glad she feels the same way i do, otherwise i think i would've felt like an idiot.

but i couldn't be happier with my little family. even though y/n and i are still young, we deserve love and happiness too.

[chaos--s]

platonic yandere! shapeshifter

general warning for murder.

--

There was something off about your dad.

He was so nice. All the time now.

It wasn't that you were complaining about the sudden change in behavior necessarily, but it completely threw you off. Why was he fixing you healthy snacks when you told him you were hungry? Instead of how reacting like how he would normally react, asking you to fuck off and quit disturbing him.

But now he has a pleasant smile on his face as he cut up some fruit and plated it with so much care. "Eat up, wouldn't want my little kid getting hungry now." He would say.

Or, before you went to sleep.

Your dad follows you to your room now to tuck you in, read you a few bedtime stories and even stayed by your side when you brought up your nightmares to him and how you couldn't sleep because of them.

"Don't worry, daddy will stay by your side and fight any monster who dared to hurt you." He would say as he sat next to your bed, smiling down at you as he hummed softly.

This was unlike him. It was too unlike him. He's never called himself "daddy" like that, not even when you were younger. But you ignored it, chopped it up to him feeling nostalgic.

You sat at the dinner table, waiting on a nice homecooked dinner that your dad would never make. In his life. He usually left all the cooking up to you, scolding you if you didn't make it exactly like how he expected you to.

Your dad walks up to the table with one of your favorite dishes. "Just how you like it!" He's ecstatic, placing down the plates with a huge grin on his face as he served the food to you.

"Are you okay, dad?" You finally ask. He stops for a second as if time itself froze before continuing to serve you.

"Why wouldn't I be sweetheart?" He has the same pleasant smile on his face. "I-I dunno, you just seem..." You trail off, not wanting to ask anymore.

"Hm?" He sits near you, tilting his head. "You can ask me anything, I won't get mad." His voice was soft. He had his hand on yours, as he looked at you expectedly.

Well, that's the issue. You scooted back, shaking your head.

"It's okay, I can ask later. I just... can't wait to dig in." You slap on a smile and pick up a spoon. Your father seems convinced enough and doesn't ask any further, content with just watching you eat. The food was so good that it makes you want more, your stomach rumbles in agreement.

Your dad laughs at the noise and gets up, picking up the pan with the remaining food. "A growing kid should be eating more, come gimme your plate."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Ah, don't need to worry about your old man. I'm fine just watching you eat." He's never said that before. "C'mon, eat up!"

Right. You hesitate but continue to eat with your father's lingering stare, trying not to acknowledge the creeping thought in the back of your mind. Your dad's nice now. He's nice, he's changed. He's sorry that he treated you like shit before that's why he's acting like this all of the sudden.

–

You've been having sleepless nights and tonight was no different, you were laying in your bed staring at the ceiling.

You tried just shutting your eyes and forcing yourself to sleep but you would open your eyes minutes later anyways, so you gave up on that. Your father told you to go to him whenever you couldn't sleep, something about cuddles.

You threw your blanket off your body huffing an annoyed sigh, clearly tonight you weren't going to be getting any sleep.

You rolled around for a few more seconds before sitting up. Water. Water would help you sleep, you walk out your room and into your kitchen. The moonlight shone through the sheer curtains in your kitchen, illuminating the kitchen.

It was nice, you poured yourself a glass of water. The peace was cut short when something slams into your window, it was loud. You flinch, spilling some of the water on the counter.

You turn your head slowly, dreading what you were going to see outside.

"Thank god. Y/n open the door, open the fucking door." You thought you were going crazy, maybe sleep deprivation was getting to you, but the man slammed his bloodied fists on the glass again, staining it with more blood.

"Let me into the house." It was your father. You could barely recognize him with all the gashes and dried up blood mixed with grime and dirt on his face, but it was him. "Y/n, please." He pleads.

You slowly nod as you walked to your front door, your dad sighing in relief as he walked around the house. You opened the door and your dad practically collapsed into your home, you stumble backwards as he held the doorway panting.

"Dad...? What happened?" He looked up. "I don't- it doesn't matter, is it here?"

You stared at him for a moment, utterly confused. "What?"

"Is it in the fucking house." He raised his voice slightly, his voice was hoarse. This was more how your father acted, not the kind act he had put on. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

He sighed angrily, pushing you out of the way, stumbling to the dining room. "It kept rambling on and on about taking care of you and- and... fuck." He held his head in his hands, mumbling to himself.

You walked up behind him, now being able to see the injuries more clearly. It looked like he'd been through war, his wrists had rope marks that were still raw and angry, his body was littered with wounds.

"...How long have you been gone?" You ask, you knew what was going on. Your suspicions were proven right, to your horror.

The thing that was in your father's room wasn't your dad. These past few weeks, the thing that has been calling itself your 'father' was some fucking shapeshifting entity that kidnapped your actual dad. Of course your gut feeling was correct. Your dad couldn't completely change his personality out of nowhere.

"We have to go." You kept your voice low. "It's still here."

Your eyes kept glancing at your father's bedroom door. It was still sleeping, hopefully. Your father nodded as he gets up, his legs are weak so he stumbles. Catching himself before he falls, his hand gripping the counter edge.

Everything was playing out like a horror movie as you heard glass breaking, his hand had slipped.

A door creaks open and you knew it was awake, your father's eyes widened in fear as he backed away. It still took the form of your father but it was impossibly tall, much taller than your actual dad.

"You're...alive." It's voice was glitching. Struggling to keep its anger in check, but somehow still sounding like your father. "How annoying."

Its hand morphs into a tendril as it stabs your father in his head, the only thing you hear is the last breaths of your father as he apologized. To you.

Its tendril morphed back into a hand, covered in blood. Your father was dead. It turned around to you, it's face sad as it watched you back away from it.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, kiddo." It's still wearing your father's face. "Don't be scared. I would never hurt you." It's lying, it's lying. Your father's dead body was still there, his blood covering your kitchen floor.

What else could you do but run? You hear it still calling your name as you ran out into the open, trying to get away from your home. You didn't get far.

You scream as you're lifted up, you hear its cooing voice as it tries to comfort you. Its voice is no longer like your father's, it's deeper now and less human. Unnatural.

"It's alright, I'm sorry baby." It coos again. "It's okay, we're okay."

"You killed my dad!" You sobbed out.

It shook its head. "He deserved it. Having such a sweet child like you, he didn't take care of you like a proper father. Seeing you cry at night because of him." Its voice was cracking again, anger seeping through. "He should've suffered a fate much worse than that. But let's forget about him, hm? I believe It's way past your bedtime, sleepyhead."

[softspace-fics]

Cookies!

A/N - I love how this came out!! I hope you all love this just as much as I do. Another fall themed fic is ready for the posting. I love you guys! Thank you so much for the interactions and love. It means the world to me.

Masterlist - all my work!

Warnings⚠️: Food mention, bucky lifts reader. Reader goes from middle space to baby space! Generally just fluff all around!

CG!Stucky x Little!gn reader!

____________

“Okay baby, now we just need to get one cup of flour yeah? Then you can mix it all together.”  Your dada says before he turns and grabs the measuring cups. You two had been baking all day, waiting for your papa to get back from working with uncle tony and uncle bruce.

Once bucky puts the flour in the bowl, he helps you to mix all the ingredients in the bowl, making a nicely made dough, ready to put on the pan. He walks over to where the pans are kept and as quietly as possible grabs a few cookie sheets.

After the dough is spooned out onto the different cookie sheets, dada carefully picks you up and helps you get your apron off before bringing you out to the living room and setting you onto the padded floor.

“Here baby, can you do some coloring for papa while we wait for the cookies to bake?” Dada helps pull your favorite colors and coloring sheets in front of you, turning on your favorite show and kissing the top of your head before he walks back to the kitchen to put the cookies into the oven and clean up.

Once your favorite show and coloring sheet is in front of you, the world around you disappears. The way your favorite medium moves on the page and the way the room starts to smell like your favorite cookies.

Your dada eventually comes and sits behind you, playing with your hair as he joins you in watching your favorite show and handing you the colors you need next. No words shared between you two, just an understanding of each other and a loving presence in the air.

The jingle of keys breaks you out of your daze as you hear the door open and close swiftly.

“I'm home!” A gentle soft yell comes from the door as your papa arrives home from work finally.

You want to run to him and squeeze him but your little mind had regressed further from hanging out with your dada and being able to just be little. Your small whines are immediately heard from your two caregivers and your papa rushes over.

“Shhh Baby, it’s okay! Papa can come to you. Feelin’ extra tiny yeah?” Papa quickly scoops you into his arms and kisses you all over your face.

“Papa!” You squeal in joy.

Your dada leans his head on your shoulder as you three reconnect after a few hours apart. Your papa asks you about your day and how much fun you had with your dada. You blabble back as well as you can, before your dada comes out with the cookies you and him had made earlier.

“Cookies? For me? Oh how sweet!~ Thank you my loves.” Your papa kisses both you and your dada as a thank you before he stuffs a cookie in his mouth.

The rest of your day is spent eating cookies and watching your favorite shows as you lay safe and sound in your two favorite peoples arms. The aroma of cookies and your caregivers cologne surrounds you.

Everything just was perfect. 

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[maladcptive]

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 sent a request idea : poly141 ! x administrator!reader ? like where they are all pining after the reader and wanting to bring her into the relationship . 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : vague john price x reader . 𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 : i'm using this idea as a bit of a ground work ! this is absolutely has series potential , so i hope you all enjoy , this is a bit of a putting my toes in the water and seeing what reception is like ! it's been far too long since i've written an x reader, so any feed back is much appreciated .

a walking contradiction, that's how john would describe you. pure as snow, yet just as easily lethal should the winds pick up ; not like ice, no, you were far too gentle to be compared to the frozen layer that thickens on the road, turning to slush, mashing with the oils from vehicles threatening any wheel to hurdle towards the cliffs' edge. no, you were more like the flurry of snowflakes against a moving truck, hitting the glass again and again until not even the window wipes could keep up with the barrage of white, so unaware of your own power, so innocent in the destruction you could cause - it showed when you glared at a solider who wasn't being cooperative, a near dead pan look as you waited for them to finish a tirade of nothingness, just for your sweet voice to travel around the office : are you finished so i can help and do my job, or do you want to continue being a know it all ? it showed when you rolled your eyes on the phone, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, elbows pressing against the desk as the phone tilted away from your ear as the voice behind the machine prattled on and on and on - subtle, civilian, perhaps, and oh so sweet, he knows there's a storm that lied beneath you, he could read people well, it was apart of the job, after all - the human psyche was a weapon, a flaw, too. and he knew that when he looked at you, there was a delicate strength ; the sort of strength where he knew you would be able to handle four rugged, complicated men, but would turn to putty in the palm of their hands.

price was the one to notice you first, the one to vet you ; a conversation here, passing glances there - he noticed the way you dipped your head when he did, the blush that bloomed on your face, the dopey smile that you couldn't quite contain when he spoke to you, the one that made his heart somersault and freeze all at once. but he noticed how when he did something wrong, you would call him out, a little tut as you make a passing comment about having to do everything yourself, how in a military base full of the most competent men in britain, they'd be lost without you.

"you know what they say, love." his feet raising to rest heavily upon the desks surface, his voice a rumble, warm, homely ; rough around the edges as his accent seemed to be a physical force in the room, an entity in and of itself, eyes that had seen far too much locking on your frame as you skilfully sorted through the numbers to ensure that the next squad had the guns and ammo needed, making sure that they wouldn't go without. "behind every man is a great woman."

your nose scrunches up, a smile on your face as your eyes creased, so expressive, "captain, at this rate i'm not standing behind you, i'm standing in front of you," and he laughs, you don't wait, continuing over the sound that made your heart clench and a giddiness that should've made you embarrassed "if you had placed this order, your squad would've been - well, best not to think about it, really." john knew his mistake, it was on purpose, after all, and it's then where he decides to introduce you to his men... he knows they'd be just as sweet on you as he is.

[luimagines]

Hello, I’ve been lurking here a while and just wanted to say that I love your works and have binged through your masterlist a fair amount, it’s just so good I Uugh, love it. For requests could I ask for another part to Prince sky and Prince twilight? I’m sorry I don’t any ideas on what I’d like to see or anything I just love it a lot, twilight is my favorite and the drama is so nice

I'm happy to be of service. It's one of my favorite indulgences. XD

Masterlist

First Part/ Previous Part

Content under the cut!

Prince Twilight

"Ok." You say into the quiet of the room he brought you to. The walk had been awkward and silent. Neither of you were willing to break the fragile thing that was teetering on the edge of the abyss between you both. "...You wanted to talk. You can talk. I'll listen. I won't interrupt. I will save any questions until the end."

Prince Link seems to flinch at your unwavering tone. But little did he know that was to keep you from breaking down on the spot.

You had really, really like him. This had felt like the biggest betrayal and slap on the face to boot. How could have have fooled you like this? You thought you were friends.

Prince Link gulps a bit, his tail swishly lowly behind him. He offers you a seat by his coffee table. "It's... a long story. But I'll to keep it brief enough so that it makes sense."

You sit down and make yourself comfortable.

The chair nearly has you melting on the spot as it is. A testament to his wealth and status, you had no idea that a chair could be this comfortable.

Prince Link sighs and rubs his hand over his head, mussing up the fur by his ear in the process. "Look... It's stifling here, in this castle, in this role, in this position I was born into. I'm watched constantly... I sneak away from the castle just to walk around the normal and common folk. I want to see my people, know how they live, see my country and my homeland and get to set its roots and soil deep within the marrow of my being."

He gives it a moment to breathe. You say nothing and he's not sure if that's worse than if you were to interrupt him with questions and accusations.

"It was just to get away from my work." He finds himself saying. "It was just taking breaks from all my duties as future king. I wasn't trying to lead you on."

Then he remembers a previous conversation you had.

"I know that there are rumors about me going to visit women and being a delinquent and enjoy my time with debauchery and all sorts of things not befitting a noble, but you have to believe me." He stresses. "I meant no harm."

You take a deep breath and sigh. You can find yourself believing that, however, that doesn't change the months that had passed with you completely ignorant to his real identity.

Prince Link waits for you to say something. The silence is deafening and when you realize that he's waiting for you, you speak. "Why humor me though? You targeted me first."

"You weren't targeted." Prince Link's grits out. His voice is rough and his ears are pinned. "It was an accident at first but I was having too much fun just talking to someone who knew nothing about me. You... smelled different. I knew you weren't local."

You sit up straighter. It didn't occur to you that the locals here with their more canine qualities would be able to pick that up.

The prince clears his throat again. "Not to mention you fought with me. No one fights with me. I was intrigued and... and I kept coming back. I wanted to-.... I liked talking to you. I always looked forward to just being next to you. I've met anyone who's captured my attention so thoroughly as you have."

You bite your lip. That's about as close to a confession as he could make without saying one. Does he mean that?

The silence is tense once more.

Someone knocks on the door and enters without waiting. It appears to be a butler of sorts. "Your Majesty, tea?"

The prince gulps the spit in his mouth again and nods. "Yes, thank you, Jamison." Prince Link turns to you, rubbing his palms on his pants. His ears have perked up and his tails sways below him. "Tea?"

You give it another beat before you nod, letting your shoulders relax. "Yes, that sounds lovely actually."

Prince Sky

The council man stutters while Prince Link struggles to meet you in the eye.

Luka comes back into the room with a tray in his hand and places it on the table as if nothing was happening in the door way. He's quick to pour some tea and set out the snack he had brought out as well.

Prince Link shifts his body so that it stands between you and the council, cutting off the awkward stare down. "Senator Egale, please, leave them out of this. I am more than happy to have a proper civilized discussion about my recent galivanting on the surface and why I had even taken an interest on the Hylian to begin with."

The council man gives a long suffering and otherwise scornful sigh. "Prince Link, while I applaud you for trying to own up to this whole charade you've been testing us with-"

Luka pats your shoulder, catching your attention and distracting you from the conversation surrounding you. He holds up a small and delicate looking china cup with darling loftwings painted on the side. "Tea?"

"I..." The words get caught in your throat. You might vomit. "Tea sounds lovely right now. Thank you."

You take the cup. It's warm and sweet and smells likes peaches.

Your favorite.

With a shudder, you force yourself to sit on the couch. Luka doesn't waste time to put small cookies and treats on a matching saucer and holds it out to you.

Numbly, you sip the tea, letting the hot liquid ground you into reality.

Prince Link and the council men are still arguing but it's all muted to your overloading brain.

You absentmindedly take a cookie and nibble on it. You've never had it before. It's a little salty but sweet and soft to bite.

You end up finishing the cookie and reach for another one.

"Don't worry too much." Luka whispers to you over the steadily growing volume of Prince Link and the councilman. "They like to make a fuss over anything the prince does if he so much as takes one step out of line. They don't have a lot a political power without his consent as the future king."

You gulp and try to make sense of this whole situation. The idea of trying to make sense of it all felt like trying to keep water in your hands in the middle of the rushing river.

"Then why am I here?" You whisper back. "If they have no power, then why bring me here? I didn't even know he was a human."

"They still have power." He stresses. "They simply don't have more power than the future king. They don't want you to be a distraction or take him away from marrying future nobility. They merely want you out of the picture and will attempt to take you out by any means necessary."

A moment passes.

You don't feel like having tea any more.

"....Even kill me?"

Luka takes a moment. "Not if Prince Link can help it. High Priestess Zelda will have a word with them as well. It is unlikely that they will succeed. But for this to stay remotely under control, it's best for you to stay close to Prince Link."

You curl up on the couch and vaguely note that the door had closed and that the council man had left.

Prince Link groans and sit on the same couch as you, but on the far end. He takes a cup of tea and drinks it without second thought. "Is Zelda arriving within the hour, Luka? I fear we do not have much time to spare any more unfortunate formalities."

Luka bows. "She has posted that she will be arriving post haste, your majesty."

"Excellent." He rests his head back against the couch and sits there in silence for a moment. After the moment has gone, he reaches for a cookie and eats it in one bite.

He turns to you again. "You'll like Zelda. You've seen her before."

That sends your mind spiraling. "I have?"

Prince Link nods. "Once or twice... She's mostly likely the reason we're here to begin with."

"Meaning?"

"She may be my best friend, but she's a terrible gossip." Prince Link rubs his hand down his face. "I swear, I take full accountability for this. I'll try to get you home safe and sound and as fast as possible."

You put your tea cup down and turn to face him. Opening your mouth to speak, you prepare for the scathing words you've been holding back right when someone knocks on the door.

Luka bows and goes to open it.

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag

Chapter one: Scar's first encounter with the angel (and Grian gets to eat ice cream)

welcome to my scariana griande drag college au. this will be quite the ride from start to finish.

~

Scar spots her from across the bar.

It would be hard not to notice her, honestly. Despite the dim, almost cloudy lighting of the room, she glows, as if a heavenly spotlight is set right on her to make it clear that she just descended from heaven.

Scar sneaks glances at her over the fun green umbrella in his drink. She's sitting by herself—an absolute crime, if you ask Scar—, swishing around the little black straw in her drink. Her dark blond hair falls in gorgeous ringlets down around her shoulders, outlining her face the way a pure golden frame would surround only the most beautiful of paintings.

Her nose is small, turned up just a little bit in a peak, the bridge delicate and sparkling with a small amount of angel dust that must be left over from the aforementioned descent. Her eyes are almost comically doe-like, large and accentuated with soft pink eye shadow and long eyelashes. Scar can't quite tell what color her eyes are from this distance (brown, maybe? Black?), but he knows that whatever color they are, they are absolutely perfect.

Her lips are pink to match her eye shadow, glittery, small and pursed, as if her drink isn't near good enough to pass those delicately soft lips.

Scar hasn't even met the woman, but he wants to kiss those lips. He wants some of that angel dust to find its way onto his own lips.

Her cheeks are rosy and full, and her round chin rests on her palm as she casts a bored look around the bar.

Scar downs the last bit of his drink for courage.

He sticks the umbrella in his shirt pocket for good luck.

Then he picks up his cane and saunters over, frantically sorting through every pick-up line in his repertoire—though none of them seem to match the beauty of God's creation before him.

She looks up at him as he approaches, peering at him from under those long lashes, and now he can tell—

Her eyes are grey, but not grey like clouds, or the sea, or the bartop that her arm rests on. Her eyes are grey like the comforter on his mom's bed, like the bricks around the fireplace back in his grandpa's old house, like the silver colored pencil he'd taken all his notes in for a semester to try and prove to Cub that it worked just as well as a normal pencil (it hadn't).

Her eyes are grey like the backdrop of Scar's dreams, the firmament that rests between consciousness and all else.

And then, of course, he's right there.

And she's waiting.

There isn't a single smooth pick-up line in his brain, which is offensive if Scar does say so himself, because he always has words. He could wax poetic about a frying pan for an hour just to annoy someone, but now that his skills are put to the test he can't hold on to his wits long enough to use them.

Goodness gracious, but she's beautiful.

She's wearing something pink and small, a cut-off that reveals a slender torso and adorable bellybutton, the sleeves long and flowy but off the shoulders. Her skirt is a lighter shade of pink, cutting off just above her knees, and it looks like just the kind of skirt that she could spin in and it would twirl along perfectly with her, the kind that sort of looks like a cupcake wrapper.

Scar's always wanted to wear that kind of skirt.

How long has he been staring at her?

"Hi," he manages, readjusting his sweaty grip on his cane. "Um. Come here often?"

She rolls her eyes.

It's breathtaking.

"Sorry, worst line in the book and all that," Scar excuses himself. "Can I order you another drink, then?"

She glances at the half-full drink she's been slowly working her way through. "I'm good, thanks," she says, and Scar nearly swoons.

The angel talked to him!

And her voice! Fluttery, but something deeper underneath! Textured like a symphonic piece of music, as soft as the faux fur carpets in the back of department stores!

She's perfect.

"I'll just cut straight to the point," Scar says, trying valiantly to not feel light-headed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. May I take you out on a date?"

She blinks.

"You don't even know me," she says, leaning back down to take a dainty little sip out of the straw.

"No, but I want to," Scar reasons. "Can I get you anything? Some chips? A little umbrella?"

"The umbrellas come with the cocktails," she scoffs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and Scar definitely doesn't almost fall over. "I'm not in the mood for a cocktail."

Scar leans forward. "You can ask for an umbrella with any drink," he whispers, winking conspiratorially. "I always do."

"What is it you really want?" she says, sounding almost tired, and Scar puts his hand to his heart.

"I just want to take you out on a date, I swear, nothing else," he says. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor?"

"Troupe 2906," Scar says, lying through his teeth. He was never a scout. Well, he did Cub Scouts, but he never made it to Boy Scouts. And he definitely didn't have a troupe. "Once a scout, always a scout."

Almost reluctantly, she giggles (a sound like windchimes softly jangling), then pulls her phone out of the tiny white purse at her side. "All right, fine. What's your name?"

"Scar," he tells her, pulling out his own phone. He unlocks it with a quick swipe, then pulls up a new contact card and trades his phone for the angel's.

"Your phone looks like it got ran over," she observes, picking at the tape on the side.

"If you pull that tape off, it goes dead."

She stops picking at it.

Scar types in his number slowly with one finger, leaning against the bar as casually as he can manage. He's been standing for a minute too long, but he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by sitting down.

When he's finished, he passes the phone back to her, receiving his own in return.

"I'll text you," he promises.

She laughs again, nods. "Okay."

The way she dismisses him—

The conversation is clearly over, based on the way she turns back to her drink, her lips once again pursed but this time turned up at the corners.

Scar hurries out as fast as his body will allow him, which isn't very fast even on the best days.

Once he's outside, out of view of her, he checks his phone.

The contact is there, ten exquisite digits.

And her name.

Ariana.

-

"Cub, do you mind if I have someone over? I need to opine."

Cub looks up from his laptop, then flinches away when Scar turns on the lights.

"Scar, do you know what time it is?" he gripes, putting a pillow over his face.

"It's not even midnight, mister, so don't pretend like this is late. You're always up at all hours of the morning, anyway."

"Why can't you opine to me?" Cub sighs.

"You don't opine back! I need someone who will wallow on the floor with me."

Scar can practically hear Cub raise an eyebrow. "Ren?"

Scar grins. "Ren. He basically isn't even a guest, since he lives right above us. And it would only be for an hour at most!"

"Fine, fine," grumbles Cub, sitting up and setting his pillow to the side. "Call him. But I have a quiz tomorrow, so this better be quick."

Ren's over within five minutes, a two-liter of diet pepsi in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

"Leftover Christmas candy, my dude," Ren says, tossing it on the floor. "You said you need to opine?"

Scar carefully lowers himself to sit on the floor, then flops down onto his back, his arms splayed out dramatically.

"Why are we doing this in my room?" groans Cub.

"I've seen an angel," Scar declares, and his heart flutters just the slightest bit.

"Ugh."

"Ooh!" Ren says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Tell me more."

"I was at the bar in Aquetown, right?" Scar starts, adjusting his arms to look more dramatic, one thrown over his forehead. "The good one. The quiet one."

"Right," nods Ren. "I know it well."

"And there she was," Scar says reverently. "The angel."

"What was her name? What happened? What did she—"

"Her name is Ariana," Scar breathes, the name as sweet on his lips as he knows her kiss would be. "She's perfect."

"Did you get her number?" Cub asks boredly.

Scar scoffs. "Of course I got her number! We're going on a date."

"Oooo!" Ren teases, slapping his shoulder. "My man has a date with a pretty girl!"

"She isn't just a girl," Scar says dreamily. "She's an angel. You should've seen her, Ren! If God himself turned up and told me that there had been a mistake, that she was supposed to be in heaven, I wouldn't have even blinked! She—"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful angel, we get it," interrupts Cub. "Can you do this in the living room?"

"What color are her eyes?" Ren asks.

"Grey . . . I've never met anyone with grey eyes. Not like those."

"What did she say? Is she into you?" Ren shakes his head. "What am I saying? Of course she's into you! Who wouldn't be?"

Scar. . . .

Scar hadn't even thought about that.

He'd just been so preoccupied with getting a date with such a perfect woman, he hadn't even thought about whether or not she might want one with him.

What if she secretly hates him?

What if she just told him yes to get him to go away?

"No, it's okay," Ren says quickly, patting his arm. "Don't cry! She's totally into you, dude! Don't even worry about it!"

"What if she isn't?" Scar asks, the hand thrown over his head moving to tug at his hair. "What if I was bothering her? What if she gave me a fake number?"

"No, dude, it's not—"

"Scar," Cub says, kneeling down on the floor beside him, "look at me."

There are already tears welling up in Scar's eyes when he looks up, straight into Cub's dark, unyielding eyes.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you," he says seriously. "If she was lying, that's her loss. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Scar nods, wiping away a tear with the heel of his palm.

Cub claps him on the shoulder. "Now get out of my room."

-

"Mumbo! Mumbo, you're never gonna guess—"

"In here!" Mumbo calls from their shared bedroom.

Grian shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt, then dashes down the short hall—past Pearl's empty bedroom—until he arrives at his own room. He shuts and locks that door behind himself as well, then leans against it, hands splayed on the old poorly-painted wood.

"Mumbo," he breathes. "Mumbo, it happened."

Mumbo is lying on his stomach on the floor, sleep shirt riding just a bit up his back from clear readjustments of position. He pushes his laptop a bit away, shuts whatever textbook he'd been studying, and rubs his eyes.

"You look cute," Mumbo says when he's done rubbing his eyes, blinking blearily at Grian. "Is that a new skirt?"

Grian stands up straight for a moment, twirls it back and forth. "Yeah, it's one of my new favorites, I think. Do you like it?"

"Looks great," says Mumbo. "Good show tonight?"

"It was fine, but that doesn't matter!" Grian falls back against the door again, letting himself slide all the way to the floor. "Mumbo, it finally happened. A man asked me out."

"No way!" Mumbo cheers, sitting up. "Like, legitimately? He thought—"

"He thought I was a girl and he asked me out!" Grian says. "This is the best day of my life. Nothing can top this."

"After—wait, after the performance? Or before? Because you think he'd know, after the performance, that it was drag, but maybe—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Grian waves him off. "This was at a different bar. I stopped by that one in Aquetown—you know, the dead one?—just on my way back, to try and get a decent drink before heading home. And he just came over to me—Mumbo, he called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Dude!" Mumbo waves his arms around like Kermit the Frog. "I think—I think we need to celebrate! Break out the ice cream, dude, because it's time to throw a party!"

Grian just breathes slowly, chest lifting and falling dramatically. He feels just like a girl in the movies after kissing her date goodbye, only better. More giddy, if that’s possible.

It's getting late, though. He should probably slip out of his heels, take out his hair extensions, wipe off his make-up, take off his boobs, change into pajamas. . . .

Or he could go eat ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo and animatedly recount every moment of the night.

Which is how Grian finds himself eating ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo, animatedly recounting every moment of the night.

"He has a cane," Grian remembers suddenly, halfway through telling Mumbo exactly what he'd said for the third time. "It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With the golden handle?"

"Okay, so he's, like, the rich heir of a mansion," Mumbo nods. "You could do a lot worse. Unless he was old—was he old?"

Grian shrugs. "I don't think so. He looked pretty young—he had a scar across his cheek, actually, kind of like—like this—"

He traces along his own cheek, starting from his jawbone, curving up a bit almost to his nose.

Mumbo frowns. "A scar? I think—"

The front door of the apartment opens, and in trudges Pearl, kicking off her muddy boots.

"Pearl!" Grian says excitedly, holding out his scraped-up plastic bowl, a couple of bites of melting ice cream still left. "We're having ice cream to celebrate!"

Pearl drops her blue backpack on the floor of the living room (right beside the front door, the dead carpet there dividing it from the tiled entrance space that leads into the kitchen). She looks first to Grian, then Mumbo, then the carton of vanilla ice cream on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds like a party!" she says, sticking her hands in her hoodie pockets. "You both look nice!"

"Oh! Um, thanks!" Mumbo says, while Grian does a little spin, his skirt lifting in the air (not that Pearl can see, standing on the other side of the counter as she is).

"A man asked me out," Grian tells her. "While he thought I was a woman!"

"Well, of course he did! You make a very pretty girl, Grian."

"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my sister. He called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Awww," Pearl coos. She comes around the counter, pulls a chipped bowl out of the dishwasher (used to dry dishes, not wash them) along with a spoon, which she uses to load some ice cream into the bowl before sticking a spoonful in her mouth.

"What was his name?" she asks around the ice cream, words muffled.

Grian frowns. "I don't remember. He didn't write it in the contact. That isn't important, though—he asked me out!"

"Are you going to go?"

Grian freezes.

Is he going to. . . ?

"Oh no," he says, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't even think about that."

"Think about what?" Mumbo asks, scraping his spoon along the side of his bowl.

"I don't want to go on a date," Grian says. Oh, this is dreadful! "I just liked the attention! What do I do, Mumbo? I gave him my number and everything!"

Pearl scoffs. "You gave him your number? You're basically required to go on a date with him. If you give a man your real number, it means you're interested."

"Did you tell him you'd go on a date with him?"

Grian cringes. ". . . Maybe?"

"Grian!"

"I can't help it!" Grian defends. "I love flirting, you know that!"

Mumbo covers his face, bowl abandoned on the counter.

"Grian," Pearl bemoans.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ."

"Well, we'd better hope he's a creep!" Mumbo says loudly, face still buried in his hands. "Because then you don't have to feel bad about ditching the date!"

"Was he nice?" asks Pearl.

Grian shrugs helplessly. "I guess? He tried to give me a drink umbrella."

"Oh. So, very drunk."

"No, I think he just wanted me to have one."

"Goodness, Grian. You've got yourself in a bit of a situation," Mumbo says, finally emerging from his hands. He looks into his bowl, frowns at the lack of ice cream.

"Maybe he'll forget about it?" Grian suggests, but his heart isn't really in it.

He doesn't have much hope. Not with the way the man had talked to him. No, he's probably just set himself up for a month of progressively creepier and more disgusting texts until he blocks the man and files a 'do not contact' directive with the school.

Assuming this man is a student.

What if he's, like, an old man? 

Like, thirty?

Okay. This is too much.

Hopefully, he just doesn't text. Then Grian won't have to worry about it. Which won't happen, but he can dream.

"We can talk more about it tomorrow, all right?" Mumbo says, tossing his bowl in the sink. "It's getting late. And G, you should probably put your, er, appendages away."

"My bosom?" Grian says, raising an eyebrow.

"His tittie-tatties?" Pearl suggests.

"My breastily breasting boobs?"

"His badonka donk—"

"Please just get them off the counter."

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Prologue || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Warnings: Body horror, experimentation, reader is in a lot of pain, violence, angst.

a/n: This is the rescue! A preview to the first chapter which should be out sometime next week <3 Short but I hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist

Hurts. Hurts so bad. 

Everything hurts. You can’t feel your hands, your legs. You can’t move. Strapped down with cold leather straps. You try to move but you can’t. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop. It’s loud. So loud. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind screams a million things at once. 

Where am I? Get out Get out Get out. I can't move. Help someone help. Who am I? GET OUT!

It takes everything inside of you to open your eyes. Every ounce of willpower is dedicated to what was once a simple task. A bright white light shines in your eyes. You wince as your eyes squint. Your vision is blurry as you try to look around.

As the room comes into focus, so does your hearing. The ringing in your ears quiets as the sounds of destruction and screams fill the void. An alarm is blaring loudly throughout wherever you are. You see steel tables, medical equipment, scans. Fuck where were you.

Why can't you remember anything? Your brain goes fuzzy as you try and recall anything from a few minutes ago. The last memory is pain. So much pain. You start to hear the screaming get closer. 

“Help…” Your voice is raspy as you try to call for anyone. Your throat burns as you speak. Footsteps get closer and closer.

“Please, Help me.” You cry a little louder.

Pain shoots through your body as you try to move your arms. You want to cry, but no tears come. You don’t understand. Suddenly you hear a loud bang. The steel doors bend under the pressure as the banging continues. You cry out in relief as the doors burst open. You see a strange man enter the room.

“Over here!” He calls, his voice sounds so far away. 

Snikt

In your hazy vision you see blades come out of the mans hand. Suddenly the leather straps were gone, cut away. Fear shoots through your heart at the sight of his claws.

No no no, he's going to hurt you. The people with knives, they hurt you.

"Please no don't." You whimper as he comes closer.

“Hey there kid I'm not gonna hurt you okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” He says.

You groan as he picks you up. You move your left hand, cupping his face. Trying to see who this was, what was going on. And then you move your right hand. Only something feels very wrong. The pain still echoes through your body but only on one side.

“Wait.” You mumble. Pushing yourself out of the man's grip.

He grunts as you push hard with your right hand, sending him stumbling back much to his surprise. You fall from his grasp. A loud clang echoes when you hit the ground. You hear more footsteps, more people, more talking.

“Oh my god.” You hear a voice say in a terrified whisper.

“Kid, you need help.” The man from before says, bending down to whisper in your ear.

You ignore him. Crawling towards a steel pan on the ground. Shakily you lift your right hand. To your horror there is no longer the familiar sight of a human hand.

It’s solid white. Plates of metal make up what was once your skin. Wires connect like veins. You close your fist and open it again. Your eyes trail up your arm. The whole thing is just like your hand. Shiny white metal instead of what was once your soft skin.

You grab the steel pan and hold it up to your face. The image is distorted but you can see yourself clear as day. Half your face is turned into something so, unhuman. Robotic and unnatural.

You lift your other hand, your human hand to your face. You flinch as you touch the cold metal of your cheek. A tear slips down one of your cheeks while your other eye just stares back, cold and empty. You drop the pan in horror. Your mind goes numb as you feel a hand on your shoulder. Someone speaks but you can’t hear them.

They wrap a blanket around you, and lead you outside. They speak to you slowly and carefully, like you’re a wounded animal. They stare at you like you’re a freak. A failed experiment that has stripped you of everything. You are a freak, you are an abomination of bones and metal.

You don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge a single thing as you stare at the floor. Slowly you lift your head, the man who cut you free sits across from you. Staring at you with hostile eyes. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the warped metal above him.

The blanket falls open, you get a look at your whole body. Half human, half machine. Expect your chest, where your ribs, your heart should be. Is a big gaping hole. Just tubes and wires and metal. 

What have they done to you? 

[gothamsgirlfriend]

This is from my wattpad and you can read it on there my name is bosinclairsgff (same as my horror blog on here)

Built On Memories (ouat Peter Pan X reader)

The plan

Pan had wanted a mother for his lost boys for a long time. He thought Wendy could take the act of being a mother but she wasn't up for the challenge. It's not so much that he cared for any of the boys particularly, no, he just simply thought it would shut them up and take some of the responsibility off him. That's why he had been watching y/n. She has a little brother who he had taken interest in for the sole purpose of learning about her. She was about 19 years old and basically her brother's nanny. It seemed like her whole existence revolved around the young boy. Getting him up for school, walking him to the bus stop, picking him up, making his meals and so on. They had a mother but she seemed to work all day, everyday. Leaving y/n to take on the role of his mother. Which was perfect! She was so good at it Pan thought she'd have no trouble stepping into the role for all of his lost boys. His plan was simple, kidnap the young boy along with y/n then give her a choice. Her brother's life will be spared if she did exactly what Pan wanted. If she didn't, then he'd kill the boy. Either way he'd have his way but the illusion of a choice was a game he always liked to play. Peter had waited long enough and decided to take both of them tonight.

After a long day of chores are working it was finally time to lie down and drift off to sleep. "Y/n?" You heard your little brother calling out for you from his bedroom. You sighed, putting down the book you were reading while all cozy in bed. Getting out from under the covers the cold winter night air hits you harshly making you shudder. You slip on your house slippers and make your way to Jackson's room. "What's the matter Jackson? I thought you were going to sleep." You ask standing in the doorway of his room, looking slightly annoyed with your younger brother. "There's a- a monster! Right outside of my window! It had white glowing eyes." Jackson hid his head under the covers. You smile softly making your way to his bed, taking a seat on the soft mattress. "Jackson, I promise there are no monsters outside of your window. You must have been asleep without even realizing it. It was just a bad dream." You gently pull the covers off his head. He allows you to do so, looking up at you with fearful eyes. He was only 7, he didn't know any better you thought to yourself. "What if it comes back?" Jackson whispers just loud enough for you to hear. "Hmm I'll be right in my room so all you'd have to do is yell my name. And I'll storm in here and tell him to go away and never, ever come back because if he did...well I'd cook him up for dinner!" You tickle Jackson and his laughter fills the cold, quiet room. "See? I'll always be here to protect you. Now please go to bed. I'm exhausted." You yawn. Jackson nods and gives you a tight hug. "I love you, goodnight." You say as you get up and leave. "Love you too." Is the response you get. Turning off the lights and closing his door slightly you head back to bed. Getting under the warm, soft covers seemed to immediately put you to sleep.

Peter Pan's shadow lurked just outside of Jackson's window. Watching him sleep. Waiting for the right moment to steal him away forever. Not only was he watching Jackson sleep, he was watching you sleep as well. Once he knew both of you were in deep slumber he slowly unlocked Jackson's lwindow. Allowing it to fully open and letting himself in. He looked around the room cautiously. Seeing no signs of a threat the shadow made its way to Jackson's bed. Hovering over him, watching him breathe in and out softly. Pan's shadow waved his hand over the boy's body making purple smoke swarm around his body. When it was all gone, so was Jackson. Next the shadow crept its way into your room. Being completely silent. He made his way above you, hovering looking down. As his face got closer to yours you started to stir in your sleep. Making the shadow slightly jump, not expecting the sudden movement. Before this could all go downhill for him, he waved his hand over you, sending you away in the same purple smoke. You had no clue that you and your brothers life just changed forever.

[orchidsangel]

The holiday season with Jason would be the most comforting thing ever, no matter how you spend it. Thanksgiving through Christmas through New Year is basically you being reminded every day why you love him in the first place. He's so attentive and loving, always doing exactly what you need him to do without ever asking, including skipping out on the annual New Year's Wayne gala to spend the night in with you. It's not like he wanted to go anyway, but if you had, then he'd be rifling through his bedside drawer searching for cufflinks just as he had done many times before when you'd wanted to escape the mundaneness of regular civilian life. This year, however, you'd decided to ring in the new year at home, the illustrious and extravagant gala not seeming too appealing this time around. Now, you sit together on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap while he gently massages the muscle of your calf.

Remnants of dinner and dessert sit in empty bowls on the living room table, streaks of brown ganache on the back of a spoon you'd almost licked clean before Jason had pulled it out of your hand, a hearty laugh escaping the typically quiet man followed by a question of whether it was good or not; it was, he knew it was. They were just a couple of delicious experiments you'd helped him whip up as a last hoorah of sorts before settling down to watch the New Year's Eve performances. A star-studded brigade in sparkly costumes dances around your screen, the backing track of some Hot 100 hit playing loudly over the sound of people cheering, visible breaths appearing on the screen every time the camera pans to the audience. They must be freezing, you think, and pull your blanket over your shoulders at the thought of waiting for the ball to drop in this temperature. You feel Jason gently move your legs off of him, getting up to grab the bowls and plates off the table before putting them in the kitchen sink. The countdown on the TV catches your eye, twenty minutes till midnight, and you stand up from the couch, sliding your slippers on, and walking to the balcony door.

The squeaky sound of the sliding door is faint under the sound of the first fireworks going off. Dashes of gold and white paint the sky, the streams of hot light reflecting in your eyes as you watch night temporarily turn to day. You're not sure how much time passes, but pretty soon, the feeling of warmth surrounding you multiplies tenfold, and strong, muscular arms pull you flush against an equally strong and muscular body. Jason cages you in his arms, keeping you close to him as the last few minutes of the year pass, and his grip is tight, like he's scared he's going to lose you when the clock strikes twelve. The sound of crowds on the street counting down gets louder as the year comes to an end. You and Jason stand in silence, numbness settling into your fingers despite the layers of blanket and man wrapped around you. An eruption of screams breaks out, mixed in with some laughter and Happy New Year's, Jason's cue to turn you around by the waist and kiss you intently, swallowing your surprised gasp until it becomes a smile. New year, new me, they say, but you hoped to god Jason had picked a different resolution because the man in front of you was a man you never wanted to change.

(more than) inspired by this ask, and ik it's not new years anymore but i hope you still enjoy it !! it's a little rushed at the end, and for that i'm sorry but i wanted to post it before it got too far away from jan 1. wishing you all the best this year, and thank you for 300 followers <3

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x reader

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

warnings -> gen, y/n overthinks a lot and isn't very nice or forgiving to herself, food, y/n panicking & hyperventilating, food, blood, suggestive near end

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWELVE -> FAILED ROMANTIC ESCAPADES (partially written, wc: 1.5k)

"Hey, hey, hey." Minho cups your face hesitantly, wiping the stream of tears flooding from your eyes. You're hyperventilating, gasping for air by the time he's arrived to help you as the pan of burnt food lies off to the side. "Here."

He takes a hand and places it on his chest, breathing in deeply and encouraging you to do the same. You try, but its shaky and and you start coughing. A hand comes down to rub your back and you don't even notice how close you are, finally starting to focus on the rise and fall of Minho's chest. Once you've started to calm, he lets his hand fall off of your back, leaving the one clasping yours to him.

"Go sit down," he orders and you try to protest. "No, I don't want to hear it. Go sit and destress with the cats while I salvage this."

"There's no salvaging that," you say, pointing to the charred, inedible... lump on the stovetop.

"So I'll make something new."

Sitting on the couch, you debate texting Soobin and calling the whole thing off, but he's already on the way and the scent of food cooking wafts over you. You feel fucking awful. First, you mess up the date, if you can call it that, before it even started, and now you've guilted Minho into helping you when he was probably in the middle of doing something. What he's making smells delicious and you feel even worse.

"How long?" Minho calls out from the kitchen. The apartment is fairly open, only an island separating that part from the living room you're in.

"Twenty minutes, give or take."

"Touch up your makeup, you cried it all off." Your face reddens. "And wear that pink shirt you have."

"The one with the ribbon?" You ask, confused why he knows your closet.

"No, not that one. The other one with the heart."

"Why?"

"Because it's nice," he says, still focused on the task at hand. "You look nice in it."

You don't know how to respond so you go to look for the shirt he mentioned. It's hanging up in your freshly organized closet, colour coordinated to help you find things easier. Taking it off the hanger, you change quickly and re-emerge to see Minho plating what looks like a professional dish.

Soobin is never going to believe you made that. Your heart drops and you start fiddling with your fingers, standing at the edge if the kitchen and staring as he finishes up. Unwelcome tears prickle at your eyes again, breath picking up slightly. Minhi catches your eye, coming over and looking down at you. His hand comes up to the back of your head, patting your hair, and somehow this helps you calm down.

"He's not going to think I made that," you admit.

"Why not? There are dirty dishes in the sink." Minho turns your face gently to look. "Who says you can't be a Michelin chef in your spare time?"

"Shut up," you push his hand away, barely containing a smile.

"There's our girl," he sighs. "Now, you know-"

A knock at the door, it opens seconds later, a tall man walking in. "Y/n? I know you said to just walk in but I feel weird so I'm still going to wait for you by the door."

"Oh my god." You look to where Soobin's voice came from, back at Minho, gripping your panic by the throat and shoving it away. "He'll see you if you go to your room and I said no one would be home."

"I can hide-"

"Behind the island!" You push him away quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. Turning around, you see Soobin hesitantly walking in. "Hey! I was just um... finishing getting everything ready! Yeah, that's what I was doing. I, uh, still need to get drinks though. What do you like? We have a bit of red wine left, sparkling water, regular water, and some pop too. Unless you don't want a drink! But hydration is important."

Your voice becomes small nearing the end of your rambling, internally cringing at yourself, but Soobin just smiles and takes off his coat. "Regular water is fine."

Nodding, you go to the side of the island Minho is on. He's crouched against the side, looking up at you as you open the fridge door. When you turn back around with the jug of water, you can see Soobin rounding the corner and panic, nearly dropping the jug as you kick Minho's leg, silently telling his to go around to the other side. He glares at you, but crawls away just as Soobin joins you, a small smile on his face. Sweat clings to your skin as you set the jug down, sending Soobin a tight smile as you reach for two glasses. They're just too high, but you're determined, which does not end well. One glass is close enough to the edge that you can grab it smoothly, but the other is shoved and falls onto the counter, glass flying.

"Oh my god!" You step back, setting the glass behind you and pushing Soobin away with your other hand. "Stand here, I'll sweep this up. I'm so sorry."

You're trying hard not to cry again at this point, so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you feel like you'll burst. The glass cleans up easy enough, but you still feel terrible.

"Y/n, you're bleeding."

"What?" You look down at the hand you just threw the glass out with and see a small cut running under your pointer and middle fingers. "Shit, okay, um, I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay," Soobin leans out of your way as you rush past him.

"Get it together," you say to yourself as you close the bathroom door, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. "Patch it up and get back out there. Calm the fuck down."

And you do just that, slapping a bandage onto the wound and stepping back out. With another deep breath, you reenter the kitchen.

"Ready to eat?" You plaster a smile on your face, taking the dishes and setting them on the coffee table. "We usually eat at the island, but I thought the couch would be nicer for tonight since the seats are comfier. Is that okay? We can eat at the island if you prefer. Or even up on the rooftop, we have a picnic table up there-"

"The couch is fine," Soobin cuts you off. "Really."

You laugh nervously, watching Minho crawl back to the other side as Soobin joins you on the couch. As you eat and make small talk, you become more comfortable, laughing freely at his jokes and even making your own. After you're done, he compliments the food and a wave of guilt runs through you, but you push it down and suggest a movie. Out of the corner of you eye, you see Minho trying to escape the kitchen, so you fully divert Soobin's attention to the TV, allowing Minho to stop being an unintentional third wheel. Not that this is a date.

This is how you end up snuggled into Soobin's chest, his arms wrapped around your waist as the credits roll. It's dark outside, the sun having set while the movie was still going. You yawn, looking up at him with a sleepy smile that he returns, ruffling your hair a bit and making you giggle.

"I had a good time tonight," he says, and you swear his eyes flickered down to your lips, but maybe you're being delusional.

"Me too, we should do this again sometime."

"I can think of something else I'd like to do again," he smirks and you blush.

"You know we can't-"

"They don't have to know." Soobin uses a finger to lift your chin, barely a breath away from his soft lips now. "We don't have to say anything. I know you like me Y/n, and I like you too."

Your heart is racing as he closes the distance between you, mouths moving together in a rhythm. He slowly moves you onto your back, the hand on your waist traveling down to your hip, toying with your waistband as he hovers over you and deepens the kiss. As his thumb dips under the waistband, it sets in what's happening and the feeling of guilt washes back over you, pushing him off you harshly with a hand to his chest.

Sitting up too quickly, your head spins. A hand is on your cheek, turning you to face the man next to you, but everything is too much and you smack it away. Soobin furrows his eyebrows and retracts his hand.

"I think I should go," he says, voice low.

You don't say anything as he gets up or when he slides his shoes and coat on. All you can do is stare at your hands, skin hot and tingly all over. When you hear the door open, your head finally shoots up to see Soobin leaving.

"I'm sorry-" You get up, but he's already out the door. You stare at the wood, wishing there wasn't something wrong with you.

notes -> i wanna hug yn. so, her family is coming into the picture here... doesn't seem like the greatest dynamic.

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