#because all anyone who is permanently cold wants

[earthtooz]

jealous ratio bc i wont him, inspired by the simulated universe occurrence, banter about marriage hehe

"Dr. No. 5 asked me to be his research partner today," you mumble half-heartedly to Veritas. It was an ordinary night, you're curled into his side with your phone in hand, watching the latest series you've been invested in whilst he occupies his mind with a book, held by one hand whilst his other is wrapped around you.

However, when he registers your confession, he tenses, slightly scrunching the pages of his book as the arm around you stiffens, muscles contracting.

"And what did you say?" He asks, feigning collectedness.

"I agreed."

His book slams shut and he shoots upward to a sitting position, baffled by the nonchalance of your tone. How cruel, you have betrayed him in the most despicable of ways, do you not care? Agreeing to be someone else's research partner is akin to that of spitting on his heart and stomping it flat, have you no respect for the laws of academic loyalty (there is no such thing), or is he the only one in your relationship devoted to it?

An idiot. You will be working with an idiot and you somehow see no flaw in that, where is your integrity as his lover?

"What does that fool have that I don't?" He all but cries, yanking your phone from your hands and setting it on his bedside table.

"What are you blabbering about?" You ask, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes, confusion shining in your irises.

"I'm supposed to be your only research partner, I cannot believe that you've gone and betrayed me like this."

"Pray tell, Veritas, how is this a 'betrayal'?"

"I would never choose to be anyone's research partner if I'm not yours, but today I've discovered that my devotion is not only unreciprocated, but unappreciated! How unfathomable."

The purple-haired turns his muscular back to you, giving you the cold shoulder. Slowly you sit up and lean on his toned body, hand resting on his deltoid and you can already see the way he tries to fight the effects of your touch. "Dear, you wouldn't be anyone else's research partner because you think majority of people are 'idiots' and aren't worthwhile academics to invest time into."

"Precisely why I cannot believe that you have agreed to work with No. 5, who is undeniably, irrefutably, and undoubtedly, a simpleton!"

You bite your tongue when it threatens to spill that you think No. 5 is not as bad as Veritas assumes, but that would outrage the scholar even more and you do not want to spend the better half of your day purposefully ruining it.

"The pay was good," you reason, daring to place a kiss to his neck. "But you are still superior in my heart, Veritas. Do not fret, if I am to seek a research partner, you would be my first and only choice."

"How long will your project span for?" He asks begrudgingly.

"6 months of research, writing, and editing. After that, I am not too involved with the publishing process."

"Oh how it stains me picturing your name beside another imbecile's."

You sigh, sitting up straighter to wrap both arms around his neck. "Your name could be beside mine permanently if you got down to one knee and presented me a ring, but alas, perhaps I shall be waiting another few research papers for that to happen."

You can't see the fond smile on his face, but you yelp when he turns around suddenly to push you against the comfort of your mattress, his lips claiming yours.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[genderqueerdykes]

to every medical professional ever who complains about how working with fat patients is "harder":

why the hell did you go into medicine thinking it would be easy? for anyone, in any case? why the hell did you go into medicine thinking it would be an "Easy" career choice?

you're literally there to prevent people from dying, falling sick, or becoming permanently injured. that's an extremely difficult job no matter who you're working with. someone who can't keep on enough weight to survive is just as "hard" to deal with as someone whose weight genuinely impacts their health. all health issues are complicated and thus "hard"

even treating a cold can be difficult when someone has autoimmune issues. people literally die from the flu every single year due to complications. medicine is not and will never be "easy". claiming that fat people are "harder" to work with is a bullshit excuse that isn't even true. there are "average" weight people out there who struggle with extremely intense health issues that are not "easy" to deal with.

skinny and "average" weight people still can deal with horrific and difficult health issues. skinny and "average" weight people can develop cancer. they can have diseased organs. they can have issues with their red and white blood cell count. they can have life threatening allergies. they can frequently need surgery for a variety of reasons

surgery will never be "easy" no matter who you're operating on. a simple or "easy" surgery is still difficult. blaming fat people for medicine being difficult is taking the coward's way out. fat people do not make practicing medicine any more difficult- it's an inherently difficult field to get into

if you seriously get into the medical field because you believe it will be "easy" you're an idiot. it doesn't matter if your patients are critically thin, average weight, or fat- all of their problems will be "hard" to deal with because human health is scary. even if someone is dealing with a less "difficult" issue it's still going to be hard. don't go into medicine if you want a free ride through life: you're the one who's wrong if you seriously thought medicine would be easy.

[yanderedrabbles]

Helloooo! I just loved the old west gang. Traumatized? Yes. Curious? Yes. But specifically the Lakota wrangler caught my attention, and oooh this part:

"""Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation." He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again.

"I've waited my whole life for you."

You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you? ""

VAL, TELL ME WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? WHAT'S HIS STORY? WHAT'S HIS DEBT?

OH MY GOD HIS PART IS SO 💕💕💕💕

TELL US THEIR BACKGROUND PLEASE 🥹🥹🥹

Yandere Outlaws - The Wrangler's Past + the gang hearing about you for the first time

I think the wrangler probably has one of the most interesting backgrounds. We all know that the Wild West era was no fun at all for Native American tribes. Manifest Destiny and all the terrible things done in it's name saw Native tribes being confined to smaller and smaller reservations, with stricter and stricter rules. Bison were disappearing, the railroads were cutting across hunting lands, and permanent settlers were coming west in droves.

I think in the face of all that, the wrangler felt like he had to adapt or die. Set out on his own and try and make it in the white man's world.

I reckon he falls in with the boss after a nasty bar fight. Him against some cowboys who feel like a Lakota on "their" turf is blasphemy.

Things don't look good at all. He's a strong fighter but numbers almost always trumps skill. He's going to end up dead in the mud and no one will give a damn.

Well, until the boss arrives. Maybe the boss is an old quick draw and when the smoke settles the cowboys are down for good. Or maybe the boss just has that look to him, that keen eyed glare that makes dumb cowhands think better of their bravado.

Either way, he hauls the wrangler out of the mud and offers him a job.

"Need a man for my horses. I'll pay you good to stick with us for coupla weeks."

The wrangler agrees. Because hell, what else is there to do? And if the older man looks hard edged and hard eyed, how much does that really matter? This is the West. You either get tough or get buried.

I think one way or another, the boss earns his loyalty. He gives him a sense of belonging he hasn't felt since he set out on his own. Gives him a purpose. And well, robbing banks and derailing trains and sticking it to old Uncle Sam is about the best he can do to make up for what his tribe has been through. Just one more outlaw pricking Washington in the thumb.

And as for you, sweet thing that you are, oh, you're what he's waited for all his life.

A girl to call his own. Soft and kind, to keep the cold away. Looking in your eyes makes it so easy to forget all the shit he's been through, all the shit he's done. He's been through his share of trouble and then some. He deserves a place to rest his head, a person to call home.

So what if you aren't willing? The world has gone out of its way to take what should have been his by right. The bison, the land, the open sky and flowing water. All of it divvied up and fenced off. He's not letting anyone get in the way of the one good thing he can finally call his own.

I think the thing that initially attracts him to you is the story of you and the second in command. The second is Chinese and he hasn't had it easy either. He could either work the railroads or die in a ditch. Not the best options, but just about the only ones open to an immigrant's son.

If you were anyone else, you'd have screamed your head off when you found him bleeding in your barn.

You didn't. Instead, you put him back together and kept him safe from your pa.

When he first heard the story, it was a cold night out on the planes. They'd just pulled off a job and were sleeping rough, trying to throw the law dogs off their trail.

The second kept looking out to the west. Maybe he was keeping an eye out for pursuit, but they'd pulled their job off back east. Marshals would be coming from that direction, if at all.

Finally, he gave in to his curiosity and asked the man what the hell he was looking for.

"My girl," he said simply. "My girl stays out that way."

The outlaws grew quiet around the fire.

"I didn't know you had one," the boss said, elbows on his knees as he sharpened his boot knife. "Is that where you go off to when we're in town?"

"Mm-hmm. I like to check in on her."

The gunslingers leaned forward then, as in sync as coyotes.

"She must be one hell of a girl, if she can put up with your ugly mug."

"Is she pretty? Got those nice eyes that look up at you all sweet?"

He ignored them and went back to looking west, like he could somehow see over all those miles.

"Do you love her?" the wrangler asked suddenly. He didn't know why he asked that, just that it seemed important.

"More than I thought possible. Every time I see her it's like my heart is breaking. If I can't have her, I think I'll go mad."

The boss looked up for a second, blue eyes catching the firelight. "You gonna marry her then?"

The second laughed, uncharacteristically nervous. "She doesn't even know I exist."

The boss stopped sharpening his knife. "How do you know you love her, if you ain't never talked to her?"

"She saved my life. That's how I know."

The wrangler looked up at the sky and wondered who would go out of their way to save an outlaw.

The boss stuck his knife in his boot. "Tell us the story."

Maybe if anyone else asked, the second would have refused. You were his girl. He didn't want to share even the memory of you with other men.

But you don't say no to the boss.

When he was done telling it, the outlaws were quiet. Lost in their own thoughts. All of them thinking how sweet it would be to have a girl like that. Feeling for a second what he felt every time he thought of you.

It was the wrangler who broke the silence, only half aware he was speaking. "I'd do anything to have a girl like that. Someone so kind..."

The dark skinned outlaw leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "She sounds too good for either of you."

"And you're any better?"

He didn't get to answer. The green eyed gunslinger cut in, his voice low and mean.

"She sounds real innocent. Kind of girl who'll cry when you fuck her for the first time."

The second in command stood with a snarl, already reaching for his rifle.

"Don't."

The boss, quiet but no less dangerous for being so.

"We're all men here. We're all gonna think somethin' like that when you tell us 'bout a girl so...untouched."

The second sat back down stiffly, his jaw clenched tight.

The boss continued, "Ain't like we're gonna steal your girl from you. Let it go."

The wrangler didn't let it go though. Not even when they were back in their hideout, a whole lot richer than they were a week ago.

He stopped the second in command when he was saddling up his mustang.

"Take me with you. I want to see this girl of yours."

If it was anyone else, he'd have said no on the spot. But the wrangler had a quiet gentleness about him that made the second agree.

They watched you from a hill overlooking your father's ranch. Just two shadows against the setting sun.

One of your horses had taken sick and you were walking it around the corral. Stopping every little while to stroke its neck or rub its nose, whispering encouragement. You were patient, gentle. The hem of your skirt tucked into your belt and showing off a sliver of thigh as you moved.

The wrangler sighed and stroked his horse's neck.

"I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Why you keep looking for her, even if you're a hundred miles away."

As they rode home, he found himself doing the same thing. Looking over his shoulder like he could somehow see you one last time.

And the first time he saw you up close? Backed up against the kitchen table, corned like a vixen at the hunt? That's when he realised exactly what you were.

You were his reward.

The one good thing he'd struggled all his life to find. You were going to be his peace. His home.

And the first time he had you? On your knees, kissing his cock, your eyelashes still wet with tears? That's when he decided he'd keep you, no matter how cruel it was. No matter that doing it would strip him of any claim to goodness. A good man wouldn't get hard seeing you cry. A good man wouldn't fuck you when all you wanted was to go home.

But then again, how could he stay a good man in a world that hated him? That wanted him dead and gone?

When he kissed you, he signed away his last bit of honour. It doesn't matter that he holds you so gently, that he touches you like a lover.

He'll never let you go. And ain't that just a bitch?

[gunpowdercarousel]

Honestly MAJOR missed opportunity for Karlach to have some kind of permanent 'buff' that deals minor fire damage to anyone who touches her in melee. Like obviously it'd be strong for fighting beasts, because every time they hit her with claws/fangs they take damage, but just from a STORY-TELLING ASPECT?

How heartbreaking would it be when you're trying to cast Cure Wounds on her? In order to heal her, you have to hurt yourself and she KNOWS IT. You go to cast Longstrider on the party and you hesitate as you reach Karlach. Yeah, it's only a few points of damage, it's not that big a deal, but does she REALLY need it? Is it worth it?

You linger, hesitate. You realize you don't want to touch her. You realize that's what EVERYONE thinks when they see her. You realize she KNOWS You're hesitating, staring at her sheepishly as you try to think of whether or not it's worth the pain just to help her.

You learn to support her from a distance. Healing Word. It's not as effective, but you don't need to get hurt for her sake. And so she learns to get used to receiving help from a distance. Just words of encouragement. It's all anyone wants to give her. Maybe it's all she'll ever get.

Aid? Bardic Inspiration? You don't need to touch her to give it to her. You can keep her at a distance and not get burned. And you're still helping her.

It's just... cold.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: their main fear in the relationship with you🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Soon I will try to deal with your orders! Also soon I will write headcanons about the alphabet with characters!

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

The girl is very afraid that you will leave her for another, because she is not good enough for you. She tried to be feminine: she made beautiful hairstyles, cute makeup, dressed up in good and classic clothes, sometimes even allowed herself skirts and dresses, used good perfumes. But despite this, she still felt like a man, because she didn't make a full transition. She still had a male voice, an Adam's apple, light stubble on her face, but most importantly, she still had a dick. She wanted to finish everything faster, but there not enough money and Ju had to put up with it.

You always told her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world and you don't care that she hasn't changed into a girl yet, she believes you, she cries hearing these words. But she is still afraid that the worst thing may happen to her and you will constantly prove the opposite.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy told you that after the service he developed PTSD. You accepted it and said that everything was fine, that he was a great guy, that he continued to be strong and brave.

But the guy has a new fear. He fears that he won't be able to protect you because of his disorder.

Dae Ho is afraid that someday you will get bored that he sometimes behaves like a cowardly child and leave him.

He knows that you are not like that, he knows that you love him very much, but there is fear and he tries to fight it.

Kang Sae Byeok

You are a very nice and romantic person. You have always shown a lot of attention and love for your girlfriend, shower her with compliments, give gifts and much more.

Sae Byeok is very pleased, she likes that you are trying for her.

But she has a problem. A girl doesn't know how to give attention and love like you. She's used to being cold-blooded and distant, Sae doesn't even treat her brother too kindly.

She's ashamed of it. She is afraid that you will get tired of her cold and go to the one who can give you all the love and attention.

Sae Byeok tries, she tries very hard and you see it, what she does is very valuable to you.

Someday the girl will be able to cope with her cold to the end.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and your boyfriend have been dating for about three years. You survived both ups and downs, but you always stayed close to each other.

You tried to help the guy cope with his addiction.

He tried to quit permanently, but constantly returned to the state when he could not recognize anyone but you (yes, even in a terrible state, he can recognize you).

Sometimes you have your hands dropped and you quarrel with a guy, saying that you will leave him, because you want a normal life, you want a wedding and children in the future, but you can't, because it's very difficult to build it with such a person.

Su Bong understands this, he is very ashamed, he promises to leave, but always breaks these promises.

He's afraid that you'll fulfill your threat and leave him, he even cries because of all this when he's left alone.

Nam Gyu

The biggest fear is betrayal. He was betrayed, humiliated and insulted many times. He was considered a litter because he was friends with influential people, especially because of his friendship with Thanos.

He doesn't want you to be the same, he doesn't want to know that you use him and his trust for your own benefit.

He is also afraid that Thanos will take you away, because according to Gyu he is much better.

But you always prove the opposite, you say that you don't need anyone but Gyu, that you love only him and he is the best person in your life.

He believes you, but he still has fear.

🤍🤍🤍

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled brown behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[monzamash]

wouldn't dream of it lando norris x reader rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, angst) requested by anon for monzamusings ✨

“What are you doing here, Lando?”

“I just needed to see you.”

Things had been good with Lando. You’d started dating a couple of months ago after being set up by a mutual friend who swore up and down that you were made for each other. And she was right for a time, over winter break when life was easy, no real responsibility or commitment needed to keep whatever it was between the two of you simmering away.

Fuelled by passion and lust with a dash of attachment. He was at your place every night nearly, besides Christmas day when you both agreed taking time away from family for a hook up was absurd. He was back in your bed the day after Boxing day, and working you over until New Years Eve, just the two of you tangled up in the sheets, closed off from the rest.

But then you flew to Monaco to see his world. Big mistake. 

It felt enormous. The constant attention and the anxiety, knowing that fans were sneakily taking photos at every opportunity, which always ended up on the silly gossip pages. And they were silly to begin with, salaciously lying about who you were and what you and Lando were until it got under you skin. Stomach churning.

There seemed to be a direct line of online hate funnelled your way and at first you promised Lando you could stomach it, until you couldn’t. It didn’t take long until reality seeped in, cold and harsh, tarnishing something that was so beautiful. It wasn't labelled but it could be in time, if his life was different – if he was a different person. 

Lando could feel you slipping away so he tried to bring you into his weird and wonderful world, to show you that it wasn’t so scary. But the more he introduced you to his "racing friends" and explained what a "paddock walk" was, the further you retreated and you knew a line needed to be drawn in the sand. Before it was too late.

Before it was too hard to let him go. 

It was callous in retrospect – a handwritten note left on his kitchen counter and slipping into an uber to Nice in the dead of the night. Cruel, really but necessary, you lied to yourself. Lando wanted to be surprised, he did. But everything you had written was true, he knew deep down that his life was fucking stressful, he didn't need reminding or how harsh people could be about the women involved with him and if it were anyone else, he would've slipped the letter in the rubbish bin and moved on.

But you were worth fighting for. And so here he was, on your doorstep in Shoreditch at 11pm on a Tuesday. It’s a wonder you answered the door but maybe there was a part of you that hoped it was him. Glassy eyed and dishevelled from the flight.

“I got your voicemails, I know where you stand but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Why didn’t you call me back?” Lando asked, the crease in his brow permanently furrowed in confusion.

“Because everything I needed to say was in the letter.” 

“What? This letter?” He scoffed, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the piece of paper he had been carrying since the day you left. Battered and torn. 

“All this tells me is that you’re scared to let me in and fine! I get that but if theres even a tiny part of you that wants me –wants us to try and make it work, then tell me because I want this…” Lando stepped forward, making his intentions clear.

“I want you.” 

“It’s not that simple,” You sighed, hands instinctively reaching for him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you both inside. 

You wanted him more than anything.

“I know it’s not, baby,” He whispered back while you pushed the jacket he was wearing from his shoulders, “But we’re so good together… God, you’re beautiful.” 

Lando took a second to bathe in your beauty before tangling you in a fierce kiss, one that had you clutching his shirt even harder, dragging his pliant body towards your bedroom. He knew the way – every wall you came into contact with bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your bed, needy kisses between sharp inhales of breath. 

“I missed you so much, Lan.”

“Fuck, I’ve missed you more.” Lando whimpered as he hovered above and nestled himself between your thighs, hands roaming every inch of skin presented to him. 

The need to have him was bubbling over as you took him in your hand and guided him to where you needed, eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward, trembling arms holding up his aching body, “That’s so fucking good, baby – ugh, so tight f’me.”

You moaned in response as Lando slowly rocked forward, grappling with the surge of pleasure rushing to your core and the relief washing from your limbs. He was your missing puzzle piece and everything else was background noise, dulled when you had him like this – whimpering and moaning sweet nothings in your ear. Silver chains tangled between you as he pressed his greedy lips to your chest, leaving small bites as a reminder of his adoration and desire. 

“I need you, you know?” Lando purred into your ear as you held him close, fingers sprawled across his perspiring back as he fucked you deep, “These last couple of weeks have been hell without you… hated waking up alone and not having you beside me… not being able to hear your voice… I'm down so fucking bad.” 

His soft voice was breaking as the first droplets fell to your neck, “I know what it’s like now to lose you and I won’t ever take you for granted, I swear on my life…” 

Lando's sobs were quick to wrack his chest as you pulled him down, taking his full body weight in your embrace. He couldn't help but succumb to the emotions that had bottled up and finally spilled, every single worry dissipating as you held him close and soothed his tears with a soft hum. 

“Hey, it’s okay, baby – I’m here…” You cooed, brushing your fingers through his tousled curls and trying your hardest to keep it together. But you could feel the welling in your eyes, heartbroken for the man in your arms and the pain you had caused, no matter how much you believed you had done the right thing at the time.

“I know you’ve been dealing with so much and I never wanted to walk away – I just… I didn’t know what to do because I could feel myself falling for you but what I was too stupid to realise was that I was already in love with you – I think I have been since the moment we met…” 

Lando craned his neck, just enough to catch a glimpse of your beautiful eyes boring into his own – sincerity in every fleck. A small smile stretched across his face as he rested his forehead on yours, “I’m in love with you too. Have been since day one.” 

The smiles on your faces couldn’t have been any wider as Lando pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your pouting lips. You couldn’t help but giggle as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing kiss after kiss on your sensitive skin.

“You loooove me,” He sang, tickling your ribs with his eager hands before flipping onto his back and pulling you on top.  

“Oh, so I’m finishing us off, am I?”

“Yeah, I’m tired from the crying,” He shrugged and clutched your hips, playfully rutting them against his own. The moan that fell from your throat betrayed your mind, body and soul and Lando simply smirked, forever pleased with the effect he had on you. 

“If you weren’t so sexy I would leave you like this,” You teased back, rolling back and forth, edging both of you like a woman on a mission. 

“Please don’t ever leave me again,” Lando moaned, gripping tighter with every tantalising movement.

You shook your head and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his flushed cheek, “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

a/n – did i keep it under 1k words? of course not lol but hope you enjoyed x more f1 writing awaits ...

[cosmicalily]

"pilates princess" a changbin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: i was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how there's a proper lack of changbin fluff fics on tumblr atm and i decided to make it my mission of the day to change that! i absolutely love binnie, he's the silliest, sweetest guy and i was thinking of how to blend his gym obsession with his adorable personality, and a (very much so in love) pilates princess was born!!

Seo Changbin did not have time for girls.

According to his roommate, Han Jisung, his one and only true love was the gym, where he spent almost every spare second of his day. His diet consisted of protein powder, chicken breasts, green smoothies and instant ramen. He only drank cold brews with absolutely no sugar, because he couldn’t stand sweet things. 

He was pretty quiet and some would say intimidating. Didn’t say a lot, didn’t do a lot.

But now, watching you, he felt something different. He felt strange. He felt soft.

Changbin looked over at you curiously from the bench press, pausing to catch his breath for a moment as you stretched your body like a cat, toes pointed, shoulders straight.

Dressed in a pale pink sports bra with a matching long-sleeved ballet wrap and black leggings, to say you looked a little out of place in a predominantly male gym was an understatement. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, a sticker-decorated water bottle by the side of your mat and an iced milky-green drink beside it.

You breathed slowly, stretching your arms forward and touching your toes before sitting straight, cocking your head at your one-man audience.

“Why are you watching me?” you wrinkled your nose in disgust, self-consciously placing a hand over your chest. “I’m here for the exact same reason as you, it’s not my fault the girls’ dorms don’t have a gym.”

Changbin flushed. “I’m sorry. It probably seemed creepy, fuck, it’s not, I promise. I’m just . . . curious. What were you doing? I’ve never seen anyone exercise like that. Everyone who comes in either beats the shit out of the boxing bag or lifts.”

“Pilates,” you smiled, looking less uncomfortable. “I got my instructing licence a bit ago, but the place I teach at is only open in the mornings. So if I’ve had an early class or lecture and want to work out in the afternoon, I have to come here. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here voluntarily. You guys are gross.”

He pouted. “I’m not. I’m cute.” 

“Yeah, sure you are, princess,” you chuckled, taking a sip from the green drink. You noticed him looking at it. “It’s matcha, do you want some?”

“Fuck no, my friend said that tastes like grass,” Changbin shook his head furiously.

You laughed at him, inching the cup closer to him. “C’mon, try a sip. You’ll like this one, it’s sweet. I always get vanilla in it since I can’t stand bitter drinks.”

He very cautiously leaned forward, looking at you carefully in case you recoiled when he pressed his lips on the straw. You didn’t, seeming less and less shy by the second, watching him eagerly as he swallowed.

“...and the verdict is?” you prompted.

“Where can I get my own?”

Jisung looked around Changbin’s room in shock, eyes comically wide as he took in his surroundings. Sure, it had been a week while he’d been staying with his parents, but surely Changbin’s life hadn’t changed so . . . drastically? Or had he somehow been invaded by some kind of pink fairy?

A pale pink sports bra lay strewn on Changbin’s bed, accompanied by a pair of soft grey flared leggings and a drink bottle. There was a handbag too, with ribbons and cute fluffy keychains, all belongings that most certainly were not his. But there were slightly more permanent looking changes, too. A pink MyMelody sticker on Changbin’s previously pristine laptop. A little beaded bow charm on his duffle bag. Two polaroids pinned above his bed; one of a girl making a kissy face, another of her with Changbin, pinching his cheek as he beamed at her adoringly.

Did Seo Changbin have a girlfriend?

And why wasn’t she a black-donning, gym obsessed weirdo like he was?

“Oh hi, Ji, you’re back!” Changbin smiled wide, something that Jisung swore he had never seen in all his time being his roommate. Or at least, not for a very long time. But Changbin had a whole different air about him; his body, although still buff, didn’t seem as tense as it usually was. His brow wasn’t furrowed and there was colour in his cheeks. And, for the love of God, had he blow dried his hair?

Jisung smiled back. “Hey, Bin. What are you drinking? New protein powder?”

“It’s a vanilla matcha, you should try it,” he handed it to Jisung, who took a tentative sip then stared, open-mouthed in shock.

“That’s . . . sweet.”

“No shit,” Changbin laughed at him, thumping his friend on the back. “It’s good, right? Y/N introduced me to them.”

Jisung handed it back, still suspicious that the real Seo Changbin had been abducted and that the man in front of him was a secret twin. “Oh, nice. Is that her stuff in your room?”

“Sure is,” a sweet voice chuckled from behind Changbin. A petite girl flew through the door, wrapping her arms tight around Changbin’s waist. “I’m Y/N, Jisung. It’s nice to finally meet you! Binnie’s told me so much about you two.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you’re . . . ?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Changbin said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, but he’s the babygirl. Everyone knows that,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “He’s a pilates princess now, Jisung, I’ve converted him. Surprised he wasn’t doing it earlier; it’s very him, you know.”

Jisung blinked slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.

“Seo Changbin? A princess?” he mumbled.

“Sure I am,” Changbin shrugged, and Jisung promptly fainted in shock.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

May you do yandere platonic gi hun team season 2 with young adult reader who is really sick and joined the game to pay for her sickness. The reader coughs blood sometimes and can barley even stand up or walk. When she eats she needs 2x the amount but she stills feel insecure

This is actually a very valid and reasonable to take part in them, imho.

Yandere platonic Squid Game team x sick!fem!reader

Squid Game masterlist

Featuring: Player 456 - Gi-hun, Player 001 - Young-il(In-ho), Player 390 - Jung-bae, Player 388 - Dae-ho.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae took you under their wing after red light, green light. Those two were the reason you made it out of there alive because they hooked their arms under yours and almost carried you over the finish line.

Especially Gi-hun was very concerned when he saw the state you were in. He immediately offered you his food ration, keeping a watchful eye on you throughout the time.

-----

Gi-hun:

Gi-hun is the one who's in a permanent state of panic in every game. He wants to be as close to you as possible incase you would need help with anything.

Gi-hun is clingy, very clingy with you. He can't help but act that way, it breaks his heart! He's almost overprotective of you, even wanting to walk you to the door leading to the bathrooms.

Gi-hun most of the times gives you atleast half of his food, he knows you need it. Gi-hun always tells you to sleep under the beds at night, while he and mainly Jung-bae keep watch over you.

Whenever you're coughing blood, Gi-hun is all over you and embracing you in his arms.

His expression rivals one of a puppy when he sees you still being insecure after everything the group has done for you. He will make sure to do anything possible for you to make it out alive.

---

Jung-bae:

Jung-bae tries his ultimate best in supporting you. He sees it as his responsibility to keep you safe, and most likely will throw himself in the way to keep you secure.

Jung-bae is a very kind soul and loves talking to you in their "freetime" between the games. He always gives you his jacket when you need it.

---

Dae-ho:

Dae-ho sees himself as his big brother to you, he's very protective over you, always helping you up, always taking you into his arms, always supporting you when you need the extra balance.

If you happen to cough up blood, Dae-ho immediately walks you to the bathroom, threatening and scolding the guard at the door.

Dae-ho is ready to spring into action and ready to beat the shit out of other players whenever they approach you.

Dae-ho gladly gives up on his food and hands it to you. You need it, and he can get along with a day or two without his food.

He feels guilty whenever you're still scared of them or uncomfortable. Dae-ho can't help it, but he just wants to be there for you.

---

Young-il/In-ho:

At first you reminded Young-il of his passed wife. This made him snap his senses towards you. The fact that you're sick and only joined the games to pay for your treatment only strengthened his feelings.

Young-il is so overprotective of you, maybe he feels some guilt inside of him but the guilt is easily suppressed by his protective nature.

He is the only one out of the whole group who always manages to get two rations of food and two milk packs. Jung-bae would whisper to the others how he notices he's always the one who can take two.

During the six legs game, you were right between Gi-hun and Young-il. Those two alone were so careful with you and Young-il feared how one wrong step might break you.

Young-il gave any player who so much as looked at you wrong, especially men, his coldest, piercing stare which told them everything they needed to know.

Young-il worships you with his gaze. The usual cold blooded stares he gives anyone else are replaced by pure love, admiration and maybe pity whenever he looks at you.

Even though you're so fragile and special to him, the sadistic smirk still forms on his lips when you're sad of other players dying and you can't do anything about it.

[jacaerysgf]

Hi, could you do an Aemond one shot where he and Reader (Rhaenyra's bastard daughter) are husband and wife and she and Aemond are married, based on the first episode of season 2 where instead of killing Aegon's son, kill the reader's son and aemond

a.n: hi hi ty for the request 🫶 i had a little too much fun writing this, this probably isnt what you wanted this is not a happy fic but i still hope you enjoy regardless 🫶🫶 slightly inspired by the events of ep two

Despite the halls of the keep being pure chaos everyone swiftly moved out of the way for the one eyed prince who rushed through the halls seeking out the one who he knew needed him.

They had been in his room. They wanted him. But they must have left his room when they knew he was not there and stumbled their way into the nursery which was attached to his room where his son had been. His son. his only child. and he was furious.

The door to the council room slams open and otto swiftly turns to look and stand before him, “where have you been-“ otto is shoved out of his way as he goes to kneel next to his sobbing wife on the floor who was clutching a blanket on the floor.

You look at him with red eyes and choke out his name, he grabs your face in his hands and looks upon you for a moment before you throw yourself into his arms. Shoving your head in his neck to breathe in his scent, to feel his pulse, make sure he’s real.

“they killed our son.” your words come out choked in between your sobs and he strokes up and down your back, “i tried to offer them anything, gold, myself, but they only wanted him aemond only him.” he shushes you and pressed a kiss against your temple, speaking into your ear. “Im sorry my love im sorry.”

He will return the pain they have brought to not only himself but worst of all to his wife and he will pay it tenfold. A lone tear streaks down his face as you say nothing more merely continue to sob into him while the other faces in the room can only merely watch with sorrow.

He picks you up, making sure to keep the blanket firmly in your grasp as he turns to leave the room ignoring the voices calling after him. They must want to discuss what they plan to do now but he wants no part in it, only wanting to comfort his wife.

“they were saying they want to blame my mother.” You had calmed down at some point, still delirious with grief but you had stopped crying, merely staring blankly up at the ceiling as aemond kept you firmly next to him. “she would never do a thing like this. my mother loves me, why would she send someone out for my son.”

Aemond is quiet and his hand on your back falters for a moment, “she wishes to punish me.” you say nothing but he notices how you shift ever so slightly.

With the way you two were right now nobody could tell the two of you have not spoken in those fourteen days since his return when he broke the news to the court. When he broke the news to you. Your own brother murdered in cold blood.

You could never forgive him despite his attempts to talk to you after, you swiftly dismissed him and his words would fall on deaf ears. Your baby brother was everything to you, you remember growing up side by aide and he was teary eyed the day you permanently moved to the keep.

despite your hatred for him and your hatred for your mothers usurpation you cannot go home. The people here watch you like a hawk you cannot even send a letter out to her but alicent is free to beg and plead to her like a pathetic dog. you hate them. Yet you allow him to comfort you because you know you will get no comfort from anyone else here.

“they wish to flaunt me around like a prized lamb. ‘gain sympathy from the houses.’ he says.” You ignore his words and continue to speak. “I will not allow it.” you shrug mindlessly and sit up, he stays laying down. His eye patch off and hair down from its usually prime and perfect state, he had thrown his shirt off at some point too.

You can see it, the hurt that laces his eye and his face, his hand finds yours and you want to rip it away but you cant, the warmth on your skin bringing you a small sense of comfort.

“i had thought we would work. That you would finally move on and forgive grievances of the past. But i hate you just as you hate me aemond,” “i do not hate you. i love you.” you shake your head as he says it, sitting up and gripping your arms tightly, trying to hold your gaze as he says it again.

“i will never forgive you. I will hate you for as long as a breathe.”

“i did not mean to i lost my temper that day.”

“you feeling sorry means nothing to me you know that. how would you feel if the men who murdered our son came in here and said they were sorry., that they didn’t mean to.”

He says your name and his grip tightens on your arms but you continue to merely stare off mindlessly.

“i will repent for the rest of my life. our son will be brought justice.”

he will kill every man in the keep if he has to, slay every man in all of westeros if they cannot figure out who had done it. For you. for his son.

“i love you.” the words come out strained as he begs and pleads to anyone who is willing to listen to him for you to say something else anything to him.

you do. you finally look at him. a look devoid of any love you had once had for him. and it kills him.

“you’re pathetic.”

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Mean-Girls x Fem!Reader

"Just Girly Things"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying (Not at Reader), name callung, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, masturbation, sex toys, mean girls, dumbification, buying affection.

(AN: I'm not super proud of this one, but did my best. Never written a fem!Yan before.)

The sound of clicking keypads and the occasional scoff can be heard in Maggie Robinsons loft bedroom. As the most popular girl at Delta High, it was important her room look as perfect as her. She chews on the strawberry flavored gum in her mouth, scrolling through her phone. She scoffs. "Sasha, did you see Jenny Taylor's latest post?" Sasha gags and nods. "Totally a spray-on tan." Sasha says, and Maggie nods. "She looks like a fucking orange. I bet you that nerd she's been with, his dick is that same shade right now..." The two cackle.

"Is he sick?" The third and final member of the group of cheerleaders asks. "Why would his dick be orange?" Sasha sighs, and puts a hand on her friends knee. "Lindsey, his dick is orange because her fake tan would rub off on it. It isn't like, permanently that color. It was a joke." Sasha explains. Lindsey pauses and tilts her head, before giggling. "Oh, I get it!" She claps her hands together, shaking the sequinned bracelet around her wrist as she does so. Maggie grins and roll her eyes at Lindsey's air-headed nature. Luckily, Sasha is always around to explain he jokes, because Maggie won't. She likes to watch her dumb subordinate work things out slowly.

"What about you, newbie? Ever had a fake tan?" She whips her head over to face you. You gulp as the school's queen bee sets her sights on you. You aren't sure why she seemed so fixated on you since you joined Delta High. Maybe it's because you were pretty, or talented, or just really obedient, but she's been dragging you around like a little purse dog since you met her, with Sasha and Lindsey flanking you both at all times. "Um, no." You mumble. She nods, and says "Good, you already have good skin. I mean, you should get a little more tan, but not with that shitty spray stuff. Or, y'know, you'll turn some jocks dick orange." The three laugh. "Because the tan rubs off!" Lindsey giggles. Maggie rolls her eyes, and groans. "Yes, Lindsey. Thanks for explaining." Lindsey looks down.

"Speaking of, have any of the guys at school caught your eye? I mean, like, appropriate ones for you. Not a fucking mathlete dork or something." She asks. "Not really. I've never actually had a boyfriend." The three girls freeze, and gasp. "Seriously?" "You've never had a boyfriend?" Maggie asks. She waves frantically, trying to get you to sit beside her on her bed. "Why not?" She asks. "Do you have a sex disease? Like... like cancer?" Lindsey asks, eyes wide. "Sex cancer, seriously?" Sasha says, glancing at her blonde friend, who only shrugs. "No one was ever interested, I guess." You grimace. You hadn't ever been popular, only making Maggie's interest in you more jarring. You had finally gotten a peek at what it was like to be school royalty.

"Not interested? Aw, you poor baby." Maggie pouts. "That's why you have us, you know? To doll you up, and keep you popular, that way you can have anyone you want." Sasha chirps. "I can't believe no one ever tried to get with you, you're like, really pretty." You smile awkwardly. "Thanks, Lindsey."

Maggie scoots closer, and you bite back a gasp when you feel her cold hands on your tank top, cupping your breasts. "Honestly. The jocks at school are horndogs, they'll stick it in anything, I'm surprised you haven't gotten any attention because of these." She bites her lips as her eyes wander down to your cleavage. "They're natural, right?" You nod. You feel the bed dip behind you, as Sasha and Lindsey join the two of you on the bed. "So you've never kissed anybody?" Sasha asks, tilting her head as her curls bounce. "No, I've kissed a boy, back in church in like, middle school or something." You chuckle, shrugging and rolling your eyes.

"What about kissing girls?" Your eyes widen. You shake your head as you feel the three girls gazes resting heavily on you. "I haven't. Why do you ask?" Maggie grins. "You could try with us. You're one of us now, you've gotta live a little. I mean, you haven't even had a boyfriend, or done it with someone. Let us help you." She coos. She leans in, and you gulp. "Don't you have a boyfriend, Maggie? Jason, right?" She asks. Maggie nods. "Yeah, but like, he won't care. He'll probably think this is hot or something. Besides, it's just girls helping each other out. It's not like a random hookup, we're all friends here." She feigns hurt at your hesitance, pouting. "Don't you like us?" Lindsey whines, giving you puppy dog eyes as she rests her head on your shoulder from behind. "No, I like you guys, it's just-" You look at Lindsey. "Alright, we can do this." You sigh. Maggie grins, and puts her hands on your waist, pressing her chest to yours. "Good, it's not even weird. It's like, just girly things." She explains. She bites your lip playfully, making you blush as she finally presses her lips to yours. As you kiss the school's queen bee, you can taste the light strawberry flavor of her gum, and as she pulls away a string of sticky lip gloss connects your lips for a moment.

"See? You did good, especially for someone who's only kissed once before." Maggie coos. Lindsey pops up to kiss your cheek. "Your skin is so soft!" She giggles, nuzzling your neck. Sasha sits to the side, waiting for orders from Maggie. "Lemme see your chest." Maggie begins to tug up your tight, white tanktop, grinning when she sees that you have no bra on. "No bra, huh? Maybe you wanted us to do this?" She teases. "Pretty..." She circles her fingers around your left nipple, watching it pebble up. "I bet you're sensitive, huh?" Sasha asks. You can't speak, and only nod. Maggie's cold hands make you shiver, as she gropes your breasts with a wicked grin. She reaches down and puts Lindsey's hands on your breasts. "Lindsey, keep playing with her tits, okay? I'm gonna move a little lower." Lindsey nods, fondling your breasts from behind. "I'll try not to scratch you, my nails are kinda long right now..." She giggles. Maggie hikes up your skirt, keeping it around your waist. She licks her lips as she touches the black panties covering your cunt. "Are these from that department store on 9th?" She asks. "Uh, yeah?" She rolls her eyes. "You don't need to be wearing that shit, that's for people like Jenny Taylor, not girls like us. Tell you what-" She leans closer to your ear, kissing the shell of it. "You make me cum, and I'll take you downtown tomorrow and buy you something cute. That's sure to help you get a guy." She obviously has no intentions of getting you a boyfriend, considering the way her gaze turns possessive. Still, she can't deny that she likes the idea of seeing you in something lacey, especially something she bought you. She notices from the corner of her eye how Sasha is squirming, clearly eager to act, rubbing her thighs together subconsciously.

"Sasha?" Her head perks up immediatly, and she stills. "Y-yes, Maggie?" She pants. "Go get my wand, the pink one." Sasha nods, and scurries over to Maggie's closet, digging around for something. She manages to pull out a pink wand, with a microphone-like rubber tip. You can feel Maggies fingers trying to pull your panties to the side. "You ever played with yourself?" She whispers. You nod. "Yeah, a few times." You admit. "How?" She presses an index against your aroused clit. You gasp. "Fingers! I use my fingers, inside me." You moan. She pouts again, as Sasha hands her the wand. "Well, no wonder your little clit is so swollen, you've not been giving it any attention." She coos. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing." She takes the wand from Sasha. "It feels so good." Sasha says, her eyes full of sincerity. You wonder just how many times these girls have done this sort of thign. Does anyone else at school know?

You are torn from your thoughts when you hear a whirring sound. "What's that gonna do?" You ask. "It vibrates, and I'm just gonna press it right up against your clit, okay? It's gonna feel so fucking good..." She groans. "But, I'm going to enjoy something too. You know, for being such a good friend, and taking in a little newbie. You watch as Maggie mounts your thigh, gasping when you feel her slick pussy press against your leg. Has she not been wearing underwear this whole time? Your whole body flinches when you feel a pusling wave in your lower. "A-ah, shit." You grip the sheets of Maggie's bed tightly. Somehow, the stimulation to your clit makes Lindsey's pawing at your chest feel even more pleasurable. Maggie chuckles as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. "Feels good, huh? You like that? Your pretty new friends taking good care of you? Putting a pretty vibrator on your clit?" Her condescedngin tone makes you blush in shame. After a while, her moans grow in volume too. "Fuck, even just your thighs feel good. Maybe, god- maybe soon I'll ride your pussy like this." She groans. "God, not even Jason makes me feel this hot, this wet. That little limp-dick, can't even make me finish." She tilts her head back. "Sasha, take a photo, m' boutta cum." Sasha pales. "I don't... um, can I use you phone, mines dead?" Maggie doesn't open her eyes, but Sasha can sense her rage. "I don't care, just taking the fuckin' photo, I'm so close. C'mon, baby. Cum on my vibrator, I'll buy you something, anything, just do it." You weren't expecting to her Maggie beg for anything in your lifetime, much less for you to cum. Overwhelmed, you feel your orgasm hit hard. "M-maggie, I'm, oh..." She nods rapidly as she practically bounces on your thigh. "Yeah, right there, I'm cumming to..." She pants.

You close your eyes, but still sense a flash of light from Sasha snapping a photo. As your legs shake from the feeling, Maggie casually dismounts your thighs, sitting down on the bed beside you. She kisses your forehead. "You did so good. I'll get you something so cute to wear to school next week." She flips her hair and acts nonchalant, as if she hadn't just held a sex toy to your cunt while she rode your thigh like her life depended on it. "Sasha, let me see that photo." Sasha shows her the phone, and she grimaces. "Ugh, I look so fucking pale. Put a Sepia filter on it or something." Before Sasha can, Lindsay snatches the phone, and lets out a whine.

"Only my hands are in it! What the hell, Sasha!"

[reiding-writing]

hiii congrats on 2k!

could I please have a second hand book with our dearly beloved cold reader? I'm thinking maybe she gets too drunk and Spencer has to take care of her? but I'm cool with anything!

love ya ❤️❤️

TALKING FISTS — SPENCER REID!

alcohol and a short temper don’t mix, who would’ve thought?

s6!spencer x cold!reader fluff? 1.2k cold!reader masterlist

WARNINGS | intoxicated!reader, fem!reader, reader punches someone and instigates a fight, mentions (but it doesn’t actually happen) of throwing up, reader is a bit of a twat as per usual

a/n — a bit of a different way for spencer to ‘look after’ our beloved cold!reader, but i think this is accurate to what would happen if she actually got super drunk 😭

main masterlist. | 2k book fayre !! | event masterlist.

Spencer knows you’ve had too much when he has to physically stop you from fighting someone.

Realistically, you’d had too much four drinks before that, but with the way Morgan was feeding you shots it was kind of hard to keep track.

It had been a long week, and you were in no mood to entertain anyone. Still, somehow, Garcia had convinced you to go out for drinks with everyone after a particularly difficult case.

You weren't the kind of person to get swept up in the camaraderie, but every now and again you gave in, and in this case specifically, you felt like the weight of the last few days might lift with a strong enough drink.

As the night wore on, you found yourself knocking back one drink after another, not even sure why you were still there.

Maybe it was because you needed to feel something other than the exhaustion that had taken up permanent residence in your bones.

Or maybe it was because Spencer kept looking at you with that concerned, too-perceptive gaze of his, like he could see right through your icy exterior.

You weren't sure when the tipping point happened, but somewhere between drink four and drink five, you became more irritable than usual.

The alcohol loosened the tight grip you usually had on your temper, making you feel even more impatient, even more annoyed at the crowd around you.

Someone bumped into you as they passed by, spilling a bit of your drink, and that was all it took to set you off.

“Watch it.” You snapped, your voice sharp.

The guy turned around, clearly drunk, and rolled his eyes. “Relax, it's just a drink.”

You stood up from your chair, your movements a little unsteady but your glare deadly. “I said, watch it.”

The guy laughed, looking you up and down like you were some sort of joke. “What, you gonna do something about it?”

Before you could even think about backing down, your fist connected with the side of his face.

It wasn’t a hard punch—not enough to seriously hurt him—but it was enough to shut him up.

Or at least, it should have been.

Instead, in the midst of the widened eyes and the gasps, he turns back towards you, chin cradled in his hand, and sneers.

“You wanna start something? Don’t think I won’t hit you back because you’re a fucking girl—”

Suddenly, there were hands pulling you back, the noise of the bar amplifying as more people got involved.

You were distantly aware of Spencer calling your name, trying to calm the situation, but your blood was boiling, and the alcohol made everything feel disconnected, like you were watching yourself in third person.

“Okay that’s enough—“ Spencer's voice cut through the haze, sharper than you were used to. He was beside you now, his hand on your arm, pulling you out of the fray. "Come on, we need to go now."

You wanted to protest, to rip your arm out of his grasp and tell him you didn’t need help, but the room was spinning, and you couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

Spencer’s grip tightened, and before you knew it, he had steered you out of the bar, away from the chaos you had started.

The cool night air hit you hard, making you stumble, and if not for Spencer’s hands steady on your shoulders, you probably would’ve fallen over.

He guided you carefully towards a bench nearby, and you collapsed onto it, Spencer crouching in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, his voice soothing but full of worry.

You tried to wave him off, but your hand felt heavy, like it wasn't really yours. “I'm fine, Reid,” you slurred, though the words came out much less convincing than you intended.

“You’re definitely not fine,” Spencer said, a small, exasperated smile tugging at his lips despite the situation. “You just punched someone. In the face,”

You blinked at him, your brain struggling to process. “He was being a dick.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying he wasn’t, but you don’t usually… you know… punch people.”

You leaned back against the bench, the world still tilting slightly around you. “Maybe I should punch more people.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Then, his tone softened. “Let’s get you home.”

You were too tired to argue, and when Spencer helped you to your feet, you leaned on him more than you intended.

He was warm and steady, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, even though you had spent so much time keeping everyone at arm's length.

Spencer wasn’t someone you ever imagined being close to, but in that moment, you were grateful for him.

The cab ride back to your apartment was quiet, with Spencer making sure you didn’t fall asleep or throw up on the way. When you finally stumbled through your front door, he guided you to the couch, sitting you down gently.

“You need anything? Water?” He asked, glancing around your apartment like he was looking for something that might help.

You groaned, resting your head in your hands. “Just… leave me alone.”

Spencer didn’t move. He stood there, awkwardly, clearly debating whether or not to listen to you. Eventually, he sighed and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, directing it into your unstable hands and carefully pushing the bottom of the glass upwards to direct it towards you lips.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said quietly, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice as you reluctantly took the first sip.

And then it wasn’t so reluctant, and you downed the whole glass.

That seemed to satisfy Spencer enough for one night.

“Get some sleep okay? I’ll call you in the morning,”

“Whatever,”

Spencer presses his lips together in the hint of a smile as he turns to leave, content that you’ll be able to take care of yourself from here.

“Night,”

Spencer lets out a breath, fondness escaping through the cracks of his mouth. “Goodnight,”

[girlkisser13]

being married to kento nanami would include

• nanami isn’t someone who falls in love recklessly. if he chose you, it was after careful thought, after he examined every possible angle and still concluded that he wanted you in his life, permanently.

• there’s a deep sense of security in your relationship— he doesn’t play games, doesn’t waver in his feelings, and never gives you a reason to doubt his commitment.

• even in the most chaotic moments of his life, he remains your anchor, ensuring that you never feel like an afterthought.

• his affection is quiet but profound. he isn’t one for excessive pda, but behind closed doors, he’s incredibly tender.

• he’ll kiss your forehead before leaving in the morning, brush his fingers against your wrist as he passes by, and place a warm hand on your lower back whenever you’re standing close.

• he absolutely loves it when you play with his hair. if you run your fingers through it while he’s resting, he’ll close his eyes and melt into your touch.

• if you hug him unexpectedly, he’ll be slightly stiff for a moment before wrapping his arms around you with a quiet sigh, like he’s finally allowing himself to relax.

• he won’t always say "i love you" outright, but he expresses it in other ways— ensuring you’re warm on cold nights, squeezing your hand reassuringly when he senses you’re stressed, or making sure your favorite tea is always stocked.

• he believes in showing love rather than just saying it.

• if you fall asleep at your desk, he’ll drape a blanket over you and place a glass of water nearby.

• if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll silently take care of small tasks for you— handling errands, cooking dinner, or drawing a bath without needing to be asked.

• he takes his role as a husband seriously and sees it as his duty to make your life easier, even in the smallest ways.

• nanami trusts you completely. he never doubts your loyalty or capabilities, and he expects the same in return.

• he isn’t the type to be jealous or possessive. if someone flirts with you, he won’t get insecure— he knows that your love is strong enough to withstand outside attention.

• however, if someone disrespects you, that’s a different story. he won’t make a scene, but the icy way he stares them down is enough to send chills through anyone’s spine.

• nanami thrives on routine, so married life with him is built on quiet stability.

• your mornings together are peaceful— he wakes up early, often before you, and makes coffee or tea. he enjoys reading the news or a book as you slowly wake up beside him.

• evenings are for unwinding together. after long days, he loves nothing more than sitting beside you on the couch, enjoying each other’s presence in silence.

• nanami values good food and insists on cooking whenever he can. he prefers fresh, homemade meals over takeout, though he won’t mind indulging with you on occasion.

• his cooking is precise, well-seasoned, and delicious. if you can’t cook, he’s patient enough to teach you. if you can, he enjoys working in the kitchen together, moving seamlessly around you like a well-rehearsed dance.

• he pays attention to your food preferences— if you have a favorite dish, he perfects it just for you.

• your home with him is a sanctuary. he’s very particular about creating a space that feels peaceful, organized, and comforting.

• he values quality over quantity— expect minimalist but well-chosen furniture, soft lighting, and a kitchen that’s always stocked with essentials.

• the moment he steps through the door, all his worries melt away because being with you is the only place where he truly feels at peace.

• nanami doesn’t like unnecessary conflict. if there’s an issue, he prefers to address it directly and logically.

• he never raises his voice, never speaks in anger, and never belittles your feelings.

• if you’re upset, he listens intently, validates your concerns, and offers practical solutions. he values resolution over winning an argument.

• if he ever hurts your feelings, he doesn’t just say "i’m sorry." he makes it up to you with action.

• he’ll cook your favorite meal, bring you a book you’ve been wanting to read, or simply hold you close and let you vent without interruption.

• he believes that love is about consistency, and he never lets pride get in the way of making things right.

• definitely finds it hard to leave you in the mornings for work, he'd stand by the door just contemplating until you tell him to leave.

• nanami isn’t someone who rushes into things. he takes his time, ensuring that every touch, every kiss, every moment of intimacy is deliberate and deeply felt.

• he’s INCREDIBLELY attentive— he remembers what makes you sigh in contentment, what makes you melt under his touch, and what makes you feel cherished.

• he values emotional intimacy just as much as physical. some of his most intimate moments with you are spent simply talking— long, late-night conversations where he shares things he wouldn’t tell anyone else.

• weekends are sacred to him. no work, no stress, just the two of you.

• whether it’s spending the morning at a quiet café, taking a walk in the park, or staying in with books and classical music, he cherishes these simple, peaceful moments with you.

• despite his serious demeanor, he has a romantic streak that he rarely lets others see.

• every now and then, he leaves small notes for you— tucked inside your book, on the kitchen counter, or slipped into your bag.

• they’re never overly sentimental, just a simple "take care of yourself today." or "remember to eat lunch. i love you."

• nanami worries about you a lot, but he also respects your independence.

• he won’t try to stop you from doing what you love, but he will always make sure you’re safe.

• asks you to help him with his ties every morning even though he 100% knows how to do it.

• if you ever find yourself in danger, he’s terrifyingly efficient in protecting you— no hesitation, no mercy for anyone who tries to harm you. <33

[stbeck]

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader synopsis: since his divorce, all aaron’s known is this subtle, silent anger that breathes under his skin. he’s become an expert at hiding it; he always has been. until you.

Anger is an old friend of Aaron’s.

He can feel the uneasiness of it slipping through his fingertips, losing his grip on reality as you step into his darkened office. It’s a poison contaminating his blood, scorching his insides until the fire consumes him, taking every fragmented piece until nothing remains.

His pulse quickens───

Another step closer; tentatively.

There’s silence; the weighted kind. It’s screaming at him, shouting: this is who he is now, a fragile mess of contradictions is what he’s become, what he’s become to survive in a cruel world meant to break him. One broken soul is standing in front of another, both trying to discover their missing pieces in one another.

He doesn’t know how to describe it.

That feeling where his body doesn’t feel like his own. Where the ground underneath his feet fades until only white noise remains. It’s hard to distinguish truth from the regret and loneliness that’s choking him with an iron fist.

“Hotch.” 

He can hear a heartbeat. A soft hum that isn’t quite his own, echoing through his skin as it pulses against his skin. Aaron’s head is throbbing. It’s been a long day of working through the backlog of paperwork, eyes straining as he scans the rushed penmanship. He leans back in his chair, but avoids meeting your stare, already dreading what he might find if he’s brave, or stupid enough, to acknowledge your presence.

One, two, three───

“Hotch.”

The voice in his head is suddenly harsher. Panicked. Desperate. It’s scratching at his subconscious, scarring his memories of the life he’d promised to Haley, of the picture perfect future he’d promised to Jack, but there’s something else, too. Something he can’t name. A long suppressed ache that ignites an inferno in his chest whenever he senses you, in moments where you’re close enough that he can feel your warm breath on the back of his neck.

He inhales, and holds it for a second.

It’s only when the lightheadedness follows that he exhales it out again. It does little to alleviate the descending pain that’s paralysing him in a strange numbness. He’s acutely attuned to you and can almost visualise the moment you decide to stay, and suddenly he’s on a precipice waiting for the moment where he’ll fall over the edge.

He can only hope he doesn’t drag you down with him.

“Breathe, Hotch,” your voice is quiet.

His next breath catches, and sticks in his throat───

He tries again, taking a short, sharp inhale of the cold air that blankets the room, unwelcoming and piercing as the world grows duller. It’s a moment later when your distress rises as you take in the new unravelled version of the stoic Unit Chief that he’s never let anyone see before. This ruined, broken side of him is usually a kept prisoner, chained in his mind as a permanent scar of a his past.

Because this is who he is now.

He catches sight of his reflection, but he doesn’t recognise himself. His posture drops at the sight of his sullen cheeks, shoulders sagging in defeat. This side of him is unhinged at times with an almost unsettling, manic edge. He’s a caged animal ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, prepared to run until his lungs ache from exertion and the BAU is all but a distant memory.

He clears his throat and everything else falls away.

There’s a hum of conversation but he can barely hear it.

His eyes catch on the framed picture taking pride of place on his desk, his son’s smile like a knife to his gut, another level of unresolved hurt. He wishes he was a better man, a better father; one who should’ve fought harder to keep his family together. He thinks of the ‘FOR SALE’ sign in the front yard of their family home, and the hollowness sets in.

He’d bought it with Haley with a promise of forever.

Aaron could never have imagined that the forever he wanted would be so temporary. The home they once shared is a shell of its former self, abandoned on a vacant lot. In the few, scant moments that he takes to remember the good times, he craves the familiarity of the life he once had almost as much as he wishes for the freedom of starting over, of having a second chance to be the man he wished he could have been.

“I’m fine, Agent,” he says, but he doesn’t sound right.

He catches the way you flinch in his periphery and feels sick with knowing that he’s armed his words as a weapon, trained to kill. His voice is cold, detached and so unlike him that it doesn’t feel real.

He feels the guilt swallow him. “I didn’t───”

“I know,” is all you can bring yourself to reply.

There’s something brewing in the air between you. Something that neither of you can name. Aaron paces back and forth in the office, feet pounding against the harsh floors, echoing. It’s in his tense shoulders and in the way his jaw clenches every time you inch towards him: one step forward, two steps back. He’s losing his white knuckled grip on everything, questioning how he can keep himself sane when he’s lost all he knows, when he keeps losing everyone he’s ever loved.

When will he lose you too?

“It’s late,” you murmur.

He can recognise the feeling of solitude.

It devours him until it makes a home in his bones.

But here, with you, it almost feels like he’s not alone. Maybe this is what fate, or destiny, is. Finding a glimmer of hope in a life that’s dark just as much as it is tragic. He thinks of Jack, of Gideon and Elle, of Morgan, Dave, JJ, Prentiss, Penelope, Reid and then───you. The thrill of the job makes him feel something, a reminder of what it feels like to be alive. He catches hold of his wrist, seeking out the steady pulse that jumps; one, two, three, four, five, six. 

“Hotch.”

A brief silence, and then, “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s voice is soft; a paradox to the shadows in his eyes.

Since the divorce, the days pass in and out like a tide. Happiness is just as fleeting, just as unpredictable. He bounces from exhilaration to delirium to depression, like it’s a game that he needs to win. Other days he can barely feel anything at all. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t care because if he doesn’t care, then he won’t feel this gaping wound in his chest that won’t stop bleeding. He won’t be able to feel his heart quiver with the regret that burrows its way into the torn muscle. He won’t be able to miss something he never had like a sewn off limb, the phantom pain suffocating him. 

(Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe───) 

The room is too small, the warmth of you like a hand prying his ribcage apart until his chest burns. This isn’t what he wanted. He likes you, almost loves you even, but knows deep down in his soul that he shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it. He’ll let you down like he let Haley down. It’s suffocating him and all he can do is push himself away from his desk as he leaves the room, a trail of destruction left in his wake.

He seeks solace under the evening sky.

This is his home, the place that he grew up in, but Aaron doesn’t feel like he belongs to the suits and politics that are embedded in his fingernails. It reminds him of everything he doesn’t have; of everything he wishes he could have. He reminisces about Haley and the way her eyes refuse to meet his, cowering in the face of confrontation, their marriage dead and buried.

He doesn’t think about the future.

He no longer indulges himself in what-ifs.

Aaron opens his eyes, scanning the sparse area around him. He bites down against the fear that’s clawing up into his chest, or at least this is what he thinks fear feels like. There’s a beat of silence, and then a door slams from somewhere behind him.

“Hotch.”

He wants to scream.

He thinks of Rossi, and how he seems to move on so easily when his marriages fail. Aaron craves the exhilaration of it; the lack of anything physical tethering to a place he doesn’t want to be. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To leave from where they’re not wanted?

“Hotch.” 

He should have expected this.

He should have predicted that you’d follow him; should’ve predicted you would put up a fight when it came down to it. He marks it down as something he’s still getting used to, having friends that will have his back regardless of the consequences. But it’s more than that; of course, it is, but he’s not ready to admit it.

“Hotch.” 

“Would you stop saying my name like that?” 

A pause, and then, softer. “Aaron.” 

It’s gentle, light against the calm skies above. The soft breeze brushing up against your skin moments before has stopped now, and there’s a lull to the air that Aaron hasn’t felt in a while. It allows the anger, the panic and everything in between to fall from his shoulders, the tension dissipating. 

It allows him to breathe again. 

A moment that’s given to him freely.

“Morgan tried hitting on the new admin,” you tell him in nothing more than a whispered murmur. “Turns out she had her earphones in when he was asking her out. She didn’t even realise he was talking to her.”

He welcomes your voice like the distraction it is.

Before he can stop himself, the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. It’s something normal amidst the chaos brewing, tearing him apart piece by piece. It’s something to grip onto, to let himself drift towards to break himself away from his inner turmoil.

The raging storm inside him calms at your voice.

Maybe it’s your larger than life presence, forcing all other topics and feelings aside until there’s only you left but when you’re around, he feels the burden of the world slip from his shoulders. He forgets that his bones ache from exhaustion or that the bags underneath his eyes are so dark he looks like he’s one step away from collapsing. He forgets about the way he hates his reflection, too scared to see a shell of himself staring back; if he can even recognise himself at all.

“I have no doubt his ego will bounce back.”

“He asked her again,” you huff out a breath. “She said yes.”

Aaron wants to say thank you, to show he’s grateful for your presence; to show he’s thankful for the simple fact that you don’t push the boundaries he sets. He wants to grab your shirt in his hands and drag you closer, until you’re so close that he’ll be able to identify every single speck of colour in your eyes. He’ll be able to shiver as your warm, ragged breath touches his skin, to share a charged moment before your lips meet. Aaron wants a lot of things, but he knows that there’s a difference between want and deserve.

He catches you as you glance at him, and smiles. 

(He knows. He knows. He knows───) 

Aaron doesn’t want to become his father’s son.

He can’t take and take and take without acknowledging what comes next. He can’t take anything without giving something in return. Love is supposed to be unconditional; a reflex, a chemical reaction, a memory maybe. All Aaron has ever known has torn him apart, the scars a permanent reminder that love doesn’t come easy to him; it never has. 

“Aaron.”

He feels you move beside him.

He can practically hear the hum of your chest and he savours the simplicity of it. Two lost people standing next to each other with barely any space separating them. If Aaron reached his fingertips out, you’d be holding hands. When Aaron thinks of love, he believes it must be a little like this: the softness of the sharp edges on your face, the lightness of his chest and, you───

“Aaron,” comes as a whisper.

He closes his eyes at the gentleness of your voice.

It’s something saved just for him. All those sharp edges that you use as a defence mechanism fall away in Aaron’s presence, and he wants to welcome you into every single part of him. All Aaron has to do is reach out and grab you, arms outstretched, heart open. Imagining his hands on you sends his heart spiralling, and it takes everything in him not to give in. He tries to forget that he’s wanted to give in for so long that he can barely remember when it started.

“I have paperwork to finish.”

(Thank you, thank you, thank you.) 

He steps forward, craving the feeling of your skin on his. 

It’s easy like this: Aaron doesn’t have to pretend. He’s aware that there’s something between you, and that you can feel it too. It doesn’t scare him half as much as it should. It’s an admission without actually admitting the words out loud and isn’t that what love is supposed to be? To feel known by the only person that matters?

Aaron smiles, and he feels lighter.

It should be nothing and yet, the moment that you lean your shoulder against his is everything. There’s no spark, no fireworks; no grand declaration of the tension that’s been building between you for months. 

Somehow it feels more like home than anything else.

“Thank you,” but it sounds more like a confession. 

(I love you, is what he doesn’t say.) 

A shrug, and then, “No problem, Hotch.” 

(I love you, is what you don’t reply.)

[crescenthistory]

analyze regulus black sunshine reader? like reader is js such good friends with ppl and socializes sm? maybe he gets jealous over how close she is with people? like how does he bring it up to her? :)

hi there darling<3 i would love to! i have also already written several full-length fics about sunshine!reader with reggie, including "you occupy my every thought" (where reg doesn't understand reader's love for him) and "are you falling asleep on me?" (where reader spends late nights in the library with him), if you want to see more 🤞

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE regulus black with a sunshine!reader

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, reg's mental health struggles

regulus had always used his cold demeanor, family reputation that preceded him and lack of social skills as a shield to protect himself

it's better to keep everyone away than to risk under- or overestimating anyone he chose to let in

he had a close knit group of friends in the rosier twins, barty and dorcas, and he told himself time and time again that he didn't want or need more

which is why you walking into his life and choosing him effortlessly was so disorientating and hard to swallow for him

someone who was considered lively, beautiful and pure like you had no place in regulus' orbit, he was certain of it

yet you just settled down like it was the most natural thing in the world

sunshine!reader who loves regulus not just despite every obstacle he has thrown up to keep you from doing so, but even specifically because of it

sunshine!reader who looks at him and sees him instead of looking past

sunshine!reader who is not just bubbly but emotionally intelligent and willing to hold space for regulus in that way he desperately needs but is unable to convey

everything that regulus thought it a given that people dislike in him, you adored -> his deadpan humour that most people found rude, you found hilarious, his quiet and reserved self that sirius always called boring, you found serenity in

and you were so painfully patient and kind with him, never demanding, just showing up and loving him in a way he thought impossible

how could he not fall for you?

it took him a long time to get used to the feeling, let alone act on it or speak it out loud

i believe most romances with regulus, especially from "unexpected" people, would have to start as friendships that he slowly builds up trust and comfort in

which any sunshine!reader would fully understand and encourage him in, making him all the more infatuated

i think regulus would view sunshine!reader as kind of holy, someone who can do no wrong and is perfect all the way through

so if you were to ever reference or communicate any insecurity about being too much, too loud, too bubbly, etc. he would be just so thoroughly confused

i think he might not even understand what you're trying to say until a while later

at which point he would approach you and be like "hold up, what?"

which hits even more if this happens pre-relationship while he's still getting comfortable with you, but his reaction just couldn't be contained

it was simply unheard of to regulus that you view yourself as anything short of perfect

similarly, if anyone made jokes at your expense, he would wield every bit of his harsh facade and reputation that precedes him to ensure it doesn't happen again

barty and evan understand from pretty much the first week of your friendship that you are not to be messed with, and they respect both you and regulus for it

they need to tease someone though, so instead they focus all their energy on how lovesick regulus is becoming

when it comes to jealousy, i think regulus would be more jealous of what sunshine!reader can do than who they're with

it seems to him that everything is easy to you, that it just comes naturally to you to be such a kind individual

i believe his love for you would be permanently settled when he comes to understand that it's not easy for you, but that you do it anyway; it's not natural, it's hard fought for

yet, as he goes on his own healing journey, a part of him would be so envious to hear you navigate through difficult feelings with kindness and logic or see you get on so openly with those around you

he would be so glad you are able to do that and that you get to be completely surrounded by love – he just longs for it for himself

i think he would also be jealous of your friends for being able to match your energy so well

there would be many many conversations where regulus goes "you deserve better" and you go "but i want you"

seeing you and sirius shoot banter back and forth like it's nothing or see you run up to braid lily's hair at a moment's notice would both heal and break something in regulus

he's once again confronted with everything he could be, feels like maybe he should be, but can't

because regulus' personality, no matter how healed he is, is never super outgoing and sunshine-y – when he's with close friends, he is much more lively and filled with banter and jokes and even some physical affection. but it's never the same as your friends.

he wonders if he should be more

you keep showing him every day that he doesn't need to be, that you love him because he's him; he doesn't need to change for you

when he becomes more comfortable in your relationship, his ideal time of voicing any such feelings would be at night in bed

with the lights turned off and his face buried in your skin somewhere, he feels safe enough to be vulnerable with you

you'll drag your fingers through his hair and talk him down every time

the best part of being with regulus is getting to love him through the healing process and see him separate his personality from his coping mechanisms and fully blossom

i think it would be a bumpy ride, but what he needs throughout it all is a rock

his sunshine!reader

i also believe he would call sunshine!reader for sun related nicknames, particularly in french (soleil anyone?)

[b0ne-merchant]

can i request romantic hcs of underfell and underswap skelebros? uty to decide whether it should be sfw or nsfw! have a nice week ❤

YES ABSOLUTELY!!!!! I love them sm......

I kept this set as sfw, but anyone can feel free to drop a request for some spice ;)

[Content warning: mentions of alcohol, implied marijuana use]

Underfell!Bros (Red and Edge) and Underswap!Bros (Blue and Stretch) Romantic/Dating Headcanons

Underfell!Sans (Red)

Guard dog but like, in an angry, violent chihuahua way.

Red's interest in you starts off as purely sexual, but over time, it just hits him directly in the skull that uh oh he's in love.

He's not gonna ever admit that, though. Well, not without a few drinks in him, at least. One night he gets a little too tipsy and it just sorta slips out that he loves you and that you make his soul do flips in his chest and you're on his mind all the time and just shut him up with a kiss already omg.

He just gets really affectionate and lovey-dovey when he's drunk. He will deny everything the next morning.

Red can dish out flirts left and right but the second you flirt back it's game over. 999999 damage. He needs to go sit down for a while.

Any sort of affection makes this man so flustered. He's really not used to it, poor thing.

He's like... begrudgingly loving. Oh, you're hungry? Fine, he'll order all your favorite foods for delivery with a roll of his eye lights (he knows your order by heart). You've fallen asleep on the couch? He's picking you up so carefully as to not wake you and bringing you to bed with a scowl (he tucks you in and leaves a glass of water at your bedside). You're cold? He's draping his jacket over your shoulders and lecturing you about being more prepared for the weather (he thinks it looks better on you anyways).

You are Red's comfort person. When he's feeling down, he wants nothing more than to climb into your lap, lay his head on your chest, and breathe in your scent.

If you're cuddling, good luck trying to leave his grasp. Red sticks to you like a baby possum. You'll get up when he says you can get up.

He's sooooo touch starved. Stroke his skull and kiss his hands and he will MELT.

He'll act all grumpy and annoyed when you're doting on him but as soon as you quit he'll be like "did i tell you to stop???"

Do not turn your back to this guy your ass will get smacked.

Red is just a tad clingy. Okay, maybe a lot clingy. He just wants to make sure that you're safe whenever you go somewhere without him.

If you're even slightly perturbed when you come home from an outing it's all "okay who do i have to kill?"

He talks real sweet to you only when he knows you're asleep.

Red listens to your soft breathing, his fingers tracing circles on your sleeping form. "best thing to ever happen to me," he whispers, eyes half closed. "stars, am i lucky."

Underfell!Papyrus (Edge)

Guard dog in a scary, calculating doberman way.

Ohhhh man, Edge knows what he wants (you), and he's not afraid to tell you.

"WEAR SOMETHING BLACK TONIGHT," Edge says, grabbing your waist and pulling you toward him. His voice dips down as he gives you a squeeze. "THE TIGHTER, THE BETTER."

I hope you like sitting in his lap, because that's gonna become your permanent seat, no matter where the two of you go.

Edge is the embodiment of confidence. This, in turn, makes him surprisingly quite a gentleman. Who woulda thought???

Chivalrous to the core. He kisses your hand in greeting. He carries your shopping bags like it's his sole duty. He pays for every date without a second thought.

He always holds car doors open for you. Even when you're both getting out of his car, he'll grab your arm, bark an order for you to stay, then bolt around the front to open the door for you.

He'd roll down a red carpet wherever you walked, if he could.

Edge likes to walk around with his hand resting on the small of your back. It's a little gesture to shows those around him that you're his.

He's very possessive over you. The thought of anyone messing with something of his makes his marrow boil.

The ends of Edge's fingers are filed into sharp claws. They're great for scaring potential threats off, but they're even better for head and back scratches.

He's very picky about literally everything he does, but if he's doing something for you (even if it's something he hates), then by the stars will he do it with his head held high.

Urghhhh he loves getting you all hot and bothered. He backs you into a corner and holds your chin up, just inches away from his face. He kisses you so deeply, so intensely, so longingly, like a man heading off to war. Then he just chuckles and walks away. What a bastard.

Give him that same flirtatious energy back, though, and he throws a whole tantrum. Like, stomping his foot and yelling, "GET BACK HERE AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!!!" while his face is just burning red.

He's never been one to tell you that he loves you, but his actions speak it a thousand times over.

Underswap!Sans (Blue)

Introducing the world's first smooch-powered skeleton!

Seriously he needs demands a kiss before he does anything. Going out for training? Kiss. Checking the mailbox? Kiss. Putting on socks? Kiss.

When he gets said kisses, half his face is just teeth the way he smiles so damn wide.

Blue is just so sickeningly sweet and loving, like sugar personified. Every moment with him feels like it's straight out of a fairy tale romance.

Sharing a milkshake with two straws. Feeding you chocolate-dipped strawberries. Making silly faces together in a photobooth. Dancing together in the kitchen. Romantic handwritten letters. This man has it all.

LOTS of phone calls when the two of you are apart. He wants to know every detail of your day! Blue lays on his stomach in bed and kicks his feet like a teenage girl. If he were using a landline, he'd be twirling the cord around his finger.

"You hang up first." "NO, YOU HANG UP FIRST!" "You hang up first." "NO, YOU HANG UP--" Stretch rips the phone from Blue's hand. "he's hanging up first." The call ends.

You two also do the whole "I love you more" "WELL I LOVE YOU MOST" "I love you most plus one" thing. This usually turns into arguments, and the occasional full-blown screaming match over who loves who more.

Blue keeps several pictures of you in his wallet. He shows them to everyone, willing or not.

He also keeps a special one of you and him tucked into his ribcage. He wants to keep you close to his soul at all times.

There's a vase in your room that's always filled with fresh flowers. Blue explains the meanings behind each flower and their colors each time he restocks it.

Blue scrapbooks about all your dates. He has an impressive collection, and he boasts an eye for design.

The two of you have a prank war that's been ongoing since your third date.

Blue likes to play wrestle with you. Sometimes he'll even let you win!

He will literally do ANYTHING to impress you. He'll find something super heavy and lift it over his head. Solving a Rubik's cube really fast. He learns an array of magic tricks to wow you.

"IS THIS YOUR CARD?" It's not. You cheer and clap and hype him up anyway.

Blue will act innocent and naive whenever you flirt with him or tell him a dirty joke solely because he thinks it's funny as fuck making you explain it to him.

He can and will wax poetic about how much he loves you. Like standing on a table in public and reciting Sonnet 18 very. Very. Loudly.

He loves you soooooooo much.

Underswap!Papyrus (Stretch)

Oh this man is whipped.

He'll just stare at you while you're doing the most mundane things, like washing dishes or clipping your toenails, and he'll just have the biggest, stupidest grin on his face and dreamy look in his half-lidded eyes.

"Dude will stop staring at me???" "nah i'm good."

Stretch likes to surprise you with hugs from behind while he rests his head on top of yours.

He gives the BEST HUGS!!!! They're big and warm and he holds you tight with his arms drooped to your lower back and his face pressing a skeletal kiss against your temple.

He loves the sight of his oversized hoodie on you. It's so big, it's practically a dress when you wear it.

His hoodie is so big it can fit both of you in it. Stretch likes cold weather because of this, as it means you'll be more likely to burrow under his hoodie and snuggle against his bones.

Stretch is trying to curb his smoking habit for your sake. He's always carrying around hard candy due to this. You're the only one he shares his stash with.

He loves laying in bed and reading with you. Stretch will situate you in his lap and have you hold a book for the two of you to read in tandem. He'll give you a little peck on the cheek when he's ready to turn the page.

He also likes laying with you and sharing earbuds while listening to music. You have no idea how earbuds even work with skeletons.

Speaking of, Stretch is a pretty big music buff. He makes all sorts of playlists for you, based on moods, activities that you're going out to do, and best of all, the way he feels about you.

Sometimes when he wants to cuddle, he'll just grab your soul with his magic and drag you over to his embrace.

You blow him kisses and he pretends to catch them and put them in his pocket for later.

Stretch loves baking. There's always a sweet, doughy smell in the air and some warm treats to indulge in when you're at his place. Just... be sure to ask about the contents of his brownies before you dig in.

He also makes the best pancakes, but it's extremely rare that he wakes up before noon to even make them. He will totally indulge you if you ask for breakfast for dinner, though.

Stretch likes to wink at you from across the room. When he gets your attention, he'll flash you his tongue with some rather lewd gestures. He then acts like nothing happened.

Basically, he wants to kiss you so bad it makes him look stupid.