#but honestly? it was the cursive for me

[heynhay]

perchance, klance as a crimefighting cowboy-esque gunslinging duo?

well since you asked so nicely

[dawnofiight]

Hello my cuties again!

Another fun little interaction thing!

Tell me which redacted character you resonate with the most.

Then show me what your handwriting looks like on a good day and in cursive (you don't have to write in cursive it's ok).

Then show me what you think that redacted character would write their name like.

Naturally, I will start.

I resonate with Angel. They are me I am them.

Handwriting below ⬇️

[cleo-serotonin]

im on the floor sobbing

[sforzesco]

my clown car method of writing involves a lot of visual cues, and sometimes I write in cursive because I do not have the energy to pick up my pen more than I absolutely have to

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Sometimes I see sexuality or gender headcanons about characters and im just like dude im pretty sure they don't know what half those words mean

[draconicsplendor]

Why do some university students two years younger than me not know how to use Microsoft Office? I knew that schools don't teach computer skills as much as they used to, but like... this is worrying.

[orcelito]

Actually it is SO weird to me to remember that I was an engineering student and that later on I had been pursuing a minor in statistics

I may be a IT & com person in the end, but I do have the foundations of engineering and statistics in my brain too. Wild !

[saschagemruler]

.

[thinkinonsense]

call me if you're lonely⟡

old man!logan howlett x phone sex hotline worker!reader

cw: dirty talk, mutual masturbation

author's note: very short. just an idea that came to mind.

masterlist

this is so desperate, logan thought to himself as he dialed the number written on the fourth page in the second column. in pretty cursive words it read, call me if you're lonely!

your number had been living in the back of his head for almost a month now but he never got this close to calling it. in the column, it's written that you are a college student working on your masters degree and that you are very popular within your profession as a phone sex hotline worker. honestly, logan didn't care if you just started yesterday. he's been so stressed and overworked lately that he needs a release soon. logan waited as the phone rang after entering his card information. he's sat up on the old mattress under him, waiting patiently to see if anyone answers.

on the third ring, someone picks up.

"thanks for calling, hush hotline." you say, giving him the typical welcome speech before jumping straight in. "what would ya' like me to call you tonight, sugar?"

the sweet tone in your voice made logan's boxers feel tighter. resting his hand on top of his heavy cock, squeezing lightly and slowly stroking himself over the thin material.

"james is fine, honey." logan mutters.

"i like the way you call me, honey." you purr, getting relaxed in bed.

you had a long day; woke up late, missed class, messed up during important meeting at work and needed to blow off some steam. normally, the people you talk to over the phone don't have an effect on you, instead opting to fake it and offer phony pornstar like moans but something made you want to give it another shot.

"is that so?"

the stranger's voice was rough around the edges. deep, cold, straight to the point. it sent a shiver up your spine. usually, your customers were weak. willing to give into your every word and fully submit to you.

"mhm," you hum, lightly running your fingers up and down your thigh. "so, what's gotcha call in tonight, james? rough day at work or you just wanna hear me touch myself for you?"

"bit of both." he was already lost in this little world between the two of you.

“aw, can’t wait to make you feel good." you tell him, playing with the lace of your underwear. "wanna hear what i'm wearing right now?"

"mhm." he grunts.

"a white t-shirt and lacy blue underwear. wish you were here to take them off of me." you sigh, slipping your hand under the waistband.

"what would you do if i was there right now?"

"hmm, think i'd start by kissing you, making sure you get nice and hard for me then i would beg you to fuck my tight throat for hours. are you hard for me right now?"

"y-yes." logan sighs, trying to slow down a bit.

"that's sweet, james. got me blushing just thinkin' about it." you run your middle finger through your folds, gathering the slick and circling your button a couple times.

"just blushing?" he teases, catching you off guard.

"not 'just blushing'." you giggle softly. "you also got me r-really–ah, fuck! really soaked."

logan could hear the obscene squeak of you dipping your fingers inside of yourself. his chest moves up and down at the same rhythm as his strokes. your pretty little gasps made it difficult for him not to release right away.

"s-shit, honey." he groans, listening to the small wet slaps of you fucking yourself. "wanna taste that pussy of yours. i'm sure it's as sweet as that fuckin' mouth you got on you, honey."

never have you actually gotten wet from the men that call you. most of them let you do all the talking, only offering moans and whimpers. you couldn't quite place a finger on it but something about james was doing it for you.

"w-wish it was you inside of me instead of my fingers." you whine, tickling the spot that makes your vision blur.

"bet you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, honey."

"i would look even prettier with you dripping out of me." faintly, you can hear him shuffling around, trying to stifle his groans. "don't hide yourself, baby. wanna hear you."

like a rubber band, something snapped inside of logan. unable to control his noises anymore, he's fucking his fist faster than before, chasing after every little moan you let out.

you move to rubbing your button switching occasionally, picturing the man that you believe james to be. a little older and rugged. maybe even someone your father would be friends with. someone you would definitely have a secret crush on.

logan's hips thrusted with need. the louder you got, the faster his orgasm was approaching. he had to hold off, he thought to himself. hear you cum first. by the broken whines and little hiccups you let out, he could tell you were only moments away from your release.

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you squeal, legs shaking a little as you near your high.

"me too, honey."

within seconds, your head is thrown back against the silky pillow case. the sheets under you were drenched but you were too full of bliss to care. logan finally allowed himself to let go as well, pearly white spurts coating his lower stomach and even some landing on his tank top. it's quiet for a minute or so before your little giggles can be heard on the other end of the line.

"something funny?" he asks, confused.

"no, no, it's just..." you giggle again with a sigh. "ever since i started this job, no one's ever made me orgasm. at least not like that."

"hm.." logan couldn't fight off the smile creeping on his face. "might need to call more often then."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

[dirt-goth]

"And I can hardly get myself out of her bed, for fear of never lying in this bed again. Oh Christ, I'm not that desperate. oh no- oh God- I am."

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about the dyslexic Wade headcannon- like at all- so here is the second part/expansive of this post!

I really like the idea of him being really insecure about it but slowly accepting it more and being more open about it.

I also wrote from my experience, and I'm not officially diagnosed don't come at me, but I struggle alot with reading and writing so yeah!

Anyway, enjoy. Please. I hope everyone likes this as much as I do!

---------------------------------

It isn't that Wade can't read- or that he doesn't want to- it's more that it's a massive fucking struggle. Most of the time anyway.

He's always had trouble reading (and spelling, but he can avoid that with emojis now! How technology grows!) ever since he was a kid.

And maybe it's because he didn't grow up in a great environment, or maybe it's because he was never really encouraged, but Wade never ever mentions it. Not to anyone.

He never told anyone when he was in school that sometimes words didn't really make sense to him, and that he was behind in work because of it, not because he would sit and talk (though he did that too). He never told anyone that he preferred art over english because it was easier to understand a picture to him than it was words. He never told anyone that he struggled to spell simple words like "bakery" and "shopping" but could spell "because" and "beautiful" because of a stupid rhyme he had heard once.

It was just something he had grown up with- something he had assumed other kids dealt with- u til he got to high school. Suddenly, he was surrounded by people writing 3000 word essays like they were nothing and people reading 200 page books during lunch, all while Wade still hadn't finished a single book he owned. While Wade still struggled to understand words that weren't in a specific font or colour- something he had realised shortly after turning 10- and everyone around him could just do it. They didn't take 10 minutes to finish a page of a book. They didn't get headaches from the concentration he had to use while staring at a page trying to figure out if the word "wandering" was spelt correctly. They didn't struggle to read the teachers writing because of the cursive writing. They could all just do it and Wade had to just sit and try.

Naturally, people noticed that he would read slowly and awkwardly when they read aloud in class, or that his work always came back covered in red pen from where he had misspelled simple words. He quickly became a target for bullying. Honestly, he probably wouldn't feel as self conscious as he does if that hadn't happened. If teachers had just stepped in and helped- noticed that something was wrong- he would've gotten some help and grown up with accommodations that would've helped him succeed. But he didn't get any of that. He got bullied for reading slowly and being dumb. He got kicked and punched because he had been spotted reading a book meant for younger kids (big mistake).

Wade tried. He did. He read books as often as he could to try and make his brain click- and it never worked. He would try and spell random words- and sometimes he got them and sometimes he didnt- and eventually he gave up. Eventually he succumbed to the voice in his head telling him he was stupid and that he was just going to have to go through life suffering.

And as he got older, he figured out stuff that helped and stuff that didn't. He managed to find a few fonts that helped, a few overlays that made it easier, and a few things to remind him how to spell certain words he usually struggled with.

He also got better at hiding it. Wade would tell people he preferred calls over text. He would open birthday cards and smile at the writing even if he couldn't quiet make out what it said. He would avoid anything that involved him reading in public.

And again, not because he couldn't read, but because it might take him alittle longer than it should, and the idea people would notice made his stomach fill with anxiety, sending him right back to being that scrawny kid I high-school who got beaten up every lunch time.

All of that only got worse after his accident. Well, the cancer and the torture and the murders, but ya know.

Now people were staring at him anyway. People would look and gasp and gawk as he walked down the street or went to the store to get groceries. Everywhere he went people stared. Everywhere.

So instead of being slightly worried people would notice him focusing too hard on reading, he was fully aware people were staring at him constantly because of his skin, and he liked to avoid giving them anymore reasons to stare.

To his suprise though, moving in with Al had helped. She was the only person he had told, and she was the only person who seemed to understand, telling him about something called dyslexia and telling him that his brain just worked alittle different than his. Then proceeded to pass out after using the last of her cocaine- but the thought was still there.

And she didn't seem to mind that he read alittle slower sometimes, because she still asked him to read her mail to her, and sometimes write letters or cards. Wade would have to ask her how to spell the words, but she never seemed to get angry about it, and she always seemed to know how to spell them. Plus, if anyone noticed it wasn't spelt right, they could blame it on her being blind (how was the recipient to know this letter hadn't been writing by Al? She could probably write stuff if she wanted. She's blind, not stupid.).

When he started to gain friends and family- somehow gaining a little group of them- he didn't feel as bad about them noticing. He still didn't say anything- didn't make it obvious- but he wanted them to know he read there cards. Make sure they knew he read the group chat messages. Make sure they knew he did care (and for some reason, probably because the writer loves this headcannon, it seemed like alot of him showing his cared had to do with reading and spelling), writing them birthday cards and Christmas cards, and responding to every single message.

He found a quick way around the messages. That was easy. Emojis, memes and gifs quickly became his best friend. They were easy to dichiper most of the time, and Wade loved them, so it was a win win! He did write things too, and auto correct usually helped if he was struggling that day, but he was getting better thanks to Al and her bossing about of writing letters to her grandkids.

Writing cards took a little longer, but he spent alot of time on each one, making sure everything look neat and was spelt well. It always made him proud giving someone a card that he knew he spent so much time on, perfecting every last word.

When Logan moved in, it was a topic Wade was trying to avoid. He knew he should tell him- they were getting closer and closer each passing day- but he always felt so stupid trying to explain it. It made him feel stupid, even if he knew he wasn't. Most of the time.

Luckily, it doesn't actually come up for awhile, not until they have moved into their own place and Wade is handing Logan a birthday card with a huge grin on his face, practically bouncing on his feet.

And Logan opens it and reads it, and smirks a little because "I don't think the word awesome is spelt like that" and suddenly Wade's smile is wiped off his face.

He really had tried- maybe he didn't read the word properly off his phone or something- because Wade is taking the card and trying his best to quickly read it but can't, and he let's out a grunt of frustration because rambling at Logan apologetically. "I really tried to fucking spell everything right- I'm the idiot for fucking trying to read the word to spell it- I mean, who does that when you can't even read properly? I can re-do it- gimme like an hour and a half to go get a new card and get Al on the phone to just ask her how to spell it and then I can give you one that isn't fucked up-"

And Logan shuts him up with a small kiss to the forehead, telling him that he "likes this one just fine, has more charm" and Wade wants that to feel reassuring but it somehow doesn't, and it just makes him more annoyed.

So after a small melt down and a good cry in the shower for fucking up Logan's birthday, he explains it to Logan. Tells him about how he sometimes struggles with reading and spelling, but he really did try with the card. He really does try to read and write properly but some days it's hard and some days he can do it easier, and that he never really told anyone until he met Al. He messily rambles about everything- including the bullying- and Wade expects to be met with some laugh or ridicule. Though, this is Logan- and somehow this man loves every other part of him- so why wouldn't he love this part too?

And Logan just apologises to Wade that he made him feel bad about misspelling the word awesome- makes a joke about how it's a hard word to spell- and that Wade shouldn't have been bullied for something he couldn't help. Tells him that it's nothing to be ashamed off, and that he shouldn't let it hold him back. Tells him that if he ever needs help with spelling something he can ask Logan, that if he ever can't figure out a word that he can ask Logan, asks if there are any accommodations he uses to help him.

And Wade tells him the things that help, the things that don't, thanks him for the offer of help, and suddenly it doesn't seem so terrifying that Logan knows. Suddenly he feels better about it. Sure, Al had helped, but hearing this from Logan made him feel less afraid to hide it. Made him feel better about telling his friends so they knew.

And Logan stays true to his words. He helps him when he is struggling with a word- never jumps in a reads stuff or spells things without being asked first- and even uses some of the accommodations. He has his phone set to a font Wade can read easier, and his next birthday card is in big bold writing (Logan's writing is normally really scribbly and hard to read) and on a colour that helps him focus on the words more.

And he tells his friends and they understand, they do the same. They help if asked, they don't rush him in reading their cards or messages- Yukio starts to use more emojis and Collosus tries his best to give Wade mission debriefs in person or voice messages- and it helps him immensely. He gets more confident about his reading and writing, and he starts to work on ut even more. And yeah, he can't get rid of his dyslexia, but he can try and find new ways that help him. He can find books in safe fonts and listen to the audio book as he reads to help (Though, he does prefer listening to Logan read to him, because his voice is so smooth and gruff somehow, and he could listen to it for hours).

Wade hated that stupid part of himself for so long, but now- even if he is 47- he doesn't really mind it anymore. He makes jokes about his spelling errors or words he missreads, and he works on finding new things to help with Logan, and everything is alittle bit easier knowing he isn't going to be ridiculed and judged.

(People who said they wanted this, I hope you enjoy! @wadewnstonwilson @logictoinsanity @zerotoqueero @superbattrash @spoopderman @klszkas @ohitsthemindstuffagain @mangoob @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes (tagging yall who said you wanted to read it!))

[lixzey]

sincerely, yours.

luke castellan x fem athena!reader

summary: in which Luke receives love letters from a secret admirer.

1.4k words

warnings, i guess?: pre tlt!!! reader has a huge ass crush on luke, reader is weird around luke (like any normal person around their crush), love letters, secret admirer, reader is kinda stalker-ish (maybe all athena kids are lol), reader is friends with silena and clarisse, camp golden boy luke!!! reader has GRAY EYES like every other child of Athena, as this is a key note in the story but i'll leave the hair color out for you guys 🫶🏻

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

“Handsome, you're a mansion with a view.”

“Hey, Luke?” Chris Rodriguez calls out to his older brother, brows knitted in confusion, as he walks towards the head of cabin eleven, who was helping their brothers—Travis and Connor—fix their armor for Capture the Flag in just a few more minutes. 

“Yeah?” Luke hums, his eyes not leaving the younger Stoll’s as he finishes the strap of Connor’s armor. “What is it?”

“Someone left this on your bed,” Chris answered, pulling out a tea-colored envelope from his pocket and giving it to the older boy. “It has your name on it.”

Luke pats Connor on the shoulder. “Trav, go and get shields and swords from the armory with Connor.” The eldest Stoll nodded, while the youngest opened his mouth to talk, but Luke got ahead of him. “No, Connor, you can’t have a flaming arrow. Now get over there!” He chuckles, playfully shoving the brothers away with a grin.

As soon as the two leave—Connor huffing about the flaming arrow—Luke turns to face Chris. “Who’s it from?” He asks, eyeing the envelope in Chris’ hand.

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know; it wasn't signed. It just had your name.”

“Huh,” Luke grabs the envelope from Chris’ hold, his eyes searching for any information. Instead, a pink heart wax stamp greeted him.

“You got another admirer?” Chris smirks, playfully nudging Luke. “Oh, to be you, huh? Girls here and there.”

Luke glares at Chris. “Shut up,”

“But that’s a first. A love letter. You think it’s from one of the Aphrodite kids?” Chris grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Explains the pink heart.”

“You talk too much, don’t you?” Luke groaned, shaking his head. “Go follow the Stolls; make sure they don’t burn the armory down. I’ll follow.”

Chris rolls his eyes, chuckling slightly. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you with your love letter.”

“Go,” Luke huffs, shoving his brother out the door.

“Geez, lover boy, stop pushing me!” Chris laughed as Luke pushed him again. “Okay, okay, I’ll go!” He chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender. “See you at the creek!”

Luke rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Chris runs off. He then turns his attention to the envelope in his hand, with his name written in perfect cursive in bright pink. If Luke wasn’t quick to jump to conclusions, he’d assume that an Aphrodite kid probably sent the letter. The pink ink was a dead give-away. But there was a small voice in the back of Luke’s mind saying otherwise.

The Hermes counselor sighs before making his way to his bed. Maybe there he could find anything else related to the mysterious admirer. Luke plopped down onto his bed, torn between ripping the envelope open or gently opening it in fear of tearing anything else that was inside.

With a shake of his head, Luke slowly opened the tea-stain envelope, the smell of old books and jasmine invading his nostrils as he gently pulled the paper out.

Dear Luke, 

I love you. 

Oh gods, where do I even begin to explain that?

Okay, so I have liked—no, loved—you since I was thirteen and you were fourteen. I know a lot of girls like you, even boys. I’m not even half of those who do. I’m just, well, me. A girl who you’d never give a second glance at. 

This is utterly stupid, honestly. Taking the risk to write this letter to you when you and I literally live in camp all year round. But, I guess, who cares? I mean, I’m already here writing this, so why back out now?

I remember the first time I saw you. Handsome, you’re a fucking mansion with a view. You were out in the arena, training with Leon Hayes. It was the day after you and Annabeth arrived at camp. You were so good, deserving the title of ‘the best swordsman’ camp has seen in three hundred years. Your dark curls looked like a halo as you sparred with him, a mischievous look in your eyes as they shined like ambers underneath the golden rays of sunlight. From that day on, I knew I was in trouble. Everything about you captivates me—a secret no one knows. 

Every time you’re around, my heart beats too fucking fast, like a pegasus galloping in the wind. You make the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy, you make my palms get sweaty, and my words fail me, leaving me a stuttering mess when you’re near and you aren’t even talking to me. See what you do to me? I’ve never thought I would fall head over heels for someone so completely and so effortlessly.

You make the angels in heaven dance and sing hymns. Each time I look at you, wedding bells ring inside my head. You make me want more and more of you. I just can't think straight when you're in my head; even writing your name makes my cheeks turn red. You make me smile in so many ways, to the point that it isn’t even funny anymore. You are my favorite everything. I’ve been telling my friends that since I was fifteen. 

I get jealous when I see someone who gets close to you and flirts with you. I just can’t explain how annoyed—angry—I get when they try to get your attention when I have no right to be. There’s just something about you. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

Do you think if I wished on every dandelion in the world, you’d be mine? It would be a dream come true, of course. But in reality? You would never notice me. Like I said before, I’m just a girl you’d never take a second glance at. I’d forever be in the shadow of everyone else, hidden far away in the darkness.

You take my breath away, Luke Castellan. I don’t know how, but, fuck, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

sincerely,

yours

Luke stared at the letter for a few seconds, still trying to understand the words he had just read. He knew that girls liked him, but he never had someone send him a love letter, let alone a detailed one.

“Who are you?” Luke muttered, his eyes going back and forth through the letter, wondering who the girl was who’d written the letter. Something about her words made him want to find her, but the letter wasn’t signed. No name, no cabin, no anything. How was he going to find out who wrote the letter? 

“Luke, capture’s in five minutes!” Annabeth’s voice snapped Luke out of his thoughts. He quickly folded the letter, placing it back in the envelope, before shoving it under his mattress. He isn’t taking any chances, especially with the Stoll brothers, whom reminded Luke of him and Chris just a few years back.

Luke immediately ran out of cabin eleven, meeting Annabeth down at the steps.

“You still aren’t geared up,” Annabeth observed, brow raised. “I can’t afford another loss, Luke,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Got held up inside, you know, the Stolls.” Luke shrugged, hoping she wouldn't see through his lie. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He did get held up with his younger brothers, well, minus that tiny exclusion under his mattress.

Annabeth sighed. “Just go and get ready. The conch will sound in a few, and I still have to find Y/n and Malcolm.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Luke chuckled, saluting to his not-so-little sister. “We will win; don’t worry.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You said that last year.”

“Gotta be positive, Annie Bunny,” Luke grinned, nudging the younger girl slightly.

“Stop calling me that,” Annabeth huffed, turning her heel to walk away.

“What? You loved bunnies!” Luke teased as she walked away.

“I was seven!” Annabeth groaned, walking faster, making Luke laugh.

“See you at the creek in four minutes!” Luke called after the daughter of Athena before turning to walk to the armory when someone collided face first into his chest.

“Woah, careful there,” Luke chuckled, catching that someone in his arms. A girl with the same gray eyes as Annabeth, a little more on the silver side, though still as intense.

“Uh, hi?”

“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke asks, smiling at her, his strong arms still wrapped around her waist for support.

“Uh, think so? Yes? I guess?” she rambled, her eyes not meeting his. 

Luke chuckles, helping the girl get back on her feet. “Careful next time, alright?”

“Uh, okay, bye!”

Luke laughed as the girl quickly scrambled away, her long hair bouncing behind her. “See you on the battlefield later, Y/n!”

tags: @lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh my god post-prison spencer and sunshine!reader is my new favorite 🥹

Can I request how spencer would react if something goes wrong in one of their cases and reader is held hostage/taken? I imagine she would be shaken ofc and spencer would comfort her after

canon level violence, reader has dislocated her shoulder and was concussed while also trying to fight off the feelings that are rapidly developing for spencer, and spencer doesn't give a fuck about her fighting their attraction

“Unlock the door, Y/n.” Spencer’s outside your door, he has been for the last couple of days. You’d been injured in the field, a concussion and a dislocated shoulder that had come from the unsub taking you during what would’ve been his take down. 

You’d been dispatched from the hospital last week after being less than attractive to the doctor who wanted to keep you there for longer. 

You’d answered texts and calls from your co-workers, but you’d been ignoring Spencer. 

“Go away Spencer, you’re supposed to be in Nebraska.” you were consulting on a case the team is currently on, so he can’t lie. 

He doesn’t try to, like you’d suspected, “I asked Emily to stay behind, you aren’t doing well.” 

You sigh on the other side of the door, relenting because you know that he won’t leave. 

“How can I help you?” You’re a little less than polite, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care. He knows what it’s like to be sidelined from the team due to injury and be upset about it. 

“Well first, you can let me in, I may look strong but these arms were not made to hold more than five bags at a time.” he’s as tender as he always is and it softens you. 

Stepping aside, you let Spencer in. Your apartment is clean, you’ve been surviving off delivery breakfasts and take out lunches, you can’t raise your hand high, so cooking is a no. 

You’re not worried about your attire, you’re in a green tank top with ’save the planet’ embroidered in cursive with a sick earth just beneath it, and a pair of cotton shorts that hit just above your knee- the heat in the city was driving you crazy and you also didn’t have the energy to try for more clothes- certainly not without upsetting your shoulder some more.

If Spencer is surprised by your outfit, he says nothing. You’re hardly surprised by his, a purple shirt tucked neatly into his dress pants and smart shoes; you’re not sure how he’s managed a perfect outfit in this heat.

Spencer sets the bags down and begins the task of taking out all the things inside- he pulls out packages of various nuts, passion fruit juices and a mountain of those clear, plastic bowls filled with fruit. 

“You didn’t have to buy pre-cut fruit; I know it’s more expensive that way.” You say to him, finding a bit of trouble pushing yourself into the chair you have at your kitchen island. 

Spencer sets down the plastic bags and moves around the countertop to help you, “I cut them myself, they didn’t have the ones you like in the grocery store.” 

You’re stunned silent, the bowls are full of watermelon, cantaloupes, orange quarters, mangoes, grapes and pineapple. All your favourites cut exactly the way you liked. Spencer must’ve spent around a hundred dollars just getting the fruit alone, maybe even more if the number of grapes is anything to go off of. 

“Spencer, you didn't have to.” He shrugs, his eyes searching your face. 

“How’s your head? Have you been feeling dizzy or having double vision?” It’s not easy to lie to Spencer, doubly so when he’s standing before you and staring at you so intensely. 

“The dizziness comes and goes, mostly when I’m in the shower.” You say honestly, and Spencer frowns. 

“You could’ve told me,” you blow a raspberry and pull the bowl full of mangoes towards you. 

“You would’ve made me go back to the hospital; I don’t like the smell of them.” you chew on a piece of mango while Spencer carries on assessing you. 

He notes that the mottling on your shoulder has gone down significantly, now it’s just purple and a little blue. Your eyes don’t appear unfocused, and Spencer is glad for it. “I wouldn’t have.”

“So, what’s your verdict, Doc?” you ask, shutting the lid on the mangoes before you burn through the entire container. 

“You’re not concussed, I think your dizziness in the shower is from you moving your shoulder too much and agitating it.” Spencer presses a light fingertip into the bruised skin and you hiss, batting his hand away making him laugh. 

You hum, “So what? I just never shower again? In the middle of this heatwave? I’d rather die.”  

“I forget how dramatic you can be.” Spencer shakes his head, “Or, you could’ve called me, or Penelope and either one of us could’ve given you a sponge bath.” 

You make your eyebrows dance, “You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you Spence?” He rolls his eyes, tugging on the braid your hair is in. 

“How’d you do that?” he asks, helping you off the chair and leading you into your kitchen. 

Your face is red hot, “I bribed my neighbour’s kid to do it for pumpkin bread the minute my arm is out the sling.” 

Of course you did, you might be sunshine incarnate, but Spencer knows everyone has a spot they don’t want others to see- this is yours. You don’t want anyone in your team viewing you as incapable or in need when they should see you as capable and able to do every facet of your job. 

“I can help you make the bread tonight if you want something to do when the case is over.” 

You tilt your head, watching Spencer look around your cupboards for a glass. “Top left cabinet,” you say and he nods, smiling when he finds a glass covered in stickered ladybugs. 

Spencer fills it almost to the top with passion fruit juice and passes it to you. 

“Are you staying the night, Spencer Reid?” you take a sip and sigh in delight, it’s been a while since you’ve had passion fruit juice, you’re not entirely sure how Spencer knew it was your favourite. 

“If you let me, it isn’t good for you to be by yourself and the more you strain your shoulder, the longer it’ll take for you to get back in the field.”

An impish smile tugs at your lips, your eyes gleaming with a mischievousness Spencer hardly thought you possessed, “So what you’re saying is, you miss me desperately and will sacrifice your hatred of germs and touching other people just to ensure I’m back in Quantico at your earliest convenience?” 

A call from Penelope cuts through the fat of your question, making you laugh when Spencer rushes to answer it and slides you a mock glare that you know is just for show. 

“Yeah, Penelope, what have you got? Y/n and I are here,” well, there’s no escaping his presence now. You find you don’t mind it quite so much, your beginning aims of not falling for him is shredding more and more as the months go on.

[stardustsymphony]

the butterfly || theodore nott

part one. part two.

summary: in third year, you and your family moved to america because of your mother's transfer, after her death, you and your father came back for you to complete your studies at hogwarts three years later. like a lot of girls in your year, you had been crushing over theodore nott since first year. but he had never reciprocated those feelings for you, hell, he's not even fully aware you have those. but that was okay, you were fine by just admiring him from a distance —untill you couldn't.

◦ ✿ ◦∘ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ∘

Anna sat on the stairs, a slight bemused expression on her face as she watched you pace so fast it almost looked like you were bouncing off of some invisible walls. 

“Are you done now?” Anna asked, her chin on the palm of her hand. “Make sure your heels aren't bruised.” 

You ran your hand through your hair for what seemed like a millionth time in the last fifteen minutes. Sighing, you stopped and looked at Anna, your confused expression mixed with a glare as you saw her amused look. 

“What're you laughing at?” 

“I'm not laughing.” Anna said, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “You both are really similar, you know.” 

“Both?” You couldn't help but ask, even though you had an idea about who she was referring to.

“You and Theo.” The look she gave you clearly said that she knew you knew, so you looked away, staring at the unopened letter tightly clutched in your fist, his elegant and slanted cursive handwriting making your heart beat faster. 

“Honestly, it's like you're channelling all your energy into overthinking this,” Anna said, folding her arms. “Just open it!” 

You glanced up at her and even though her expression was neutral, the excitement in her eyes was hard to ignore. With a knot in your stomach, you nodded hesitatingly and flipped the letter to open it. 

And stopped. 

You couldn't do this –opening a letter had never been so damn hard. What if this was some sort of a sick prank? Or maybe something worse? Maybe he'd seen you staring at him and was asking you to stop?

You shoved the letter in Anna's hands, going around her and sitting further up the stairs, your head in your hands. You didn't look when you heard her sigh, or walk up towards you, you kept your eyes on your shoes when she sat down besides you. 

Pathetic, you told yourself. Can't even open a damn letter.

You finally looked at her when she gently nudged her shoulder against yours. Giving you a reassuring look, she placed the letter in your lap, one side of it slightly wrinkled because of how hard you had held it. You glanced at it then at her, your fingers automatically trying to smooth the crinkled ends. 

“He sent it because of a reason, okay?” Anna said softly, which was so unlike her bossy personality. “He wouldn't have sent it if he didn't want you to read it. And he's obviously waiting to hear from you.” 

The knot tightened in your stomach. “But…what if I open it and it's something, I don't know…bad?” you voiced your doubts, uncertainty pooling in your stomach. “What if he, I don't know, wants me to stop staring—”

“Oh, please.” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes, her usual self slipping back in. “That boy lives on only two things; food and attention. He'd be smug even if the giant squid is staring at him.”

Was that an insult? “Wait –did you just compare me to the giant squid?” 

She gave you a look. “Just open the damn letter now, will you?” she said, a bit exasperated now. “Look, it's nothing bad, I promise okay? You trust me, right?”

“Yeah,” you answered, a bit of hesitation in your voice. “But how can you be so sure?” 

“As a matter of fact, I'm very sure. I helped him write it, after all.”

Wait, what?

You blinked, trying to process this new information. “You…helped him write it?” 

Anna shrugged, “Technically, yeah.” She said, a glint in her eyes. “I suggested a lot of things, gave him a few sample letters and he wrote the final one. I spent almost three hours in the library yesterday with him, he spent a couple more alone—” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted her, your mind a whirlpool of confusion. This new piece of information came out of nowhere and spiked up your heartbeat so much you were afraid it would come out. “You gave him sample letters? Sample letters as in you pretending to be him writing to me?” 

“Correct.” 

You held up the letter. “So this is you, pretending to be him?” 

Anna rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot. I suggested things that he could say to you, gave him examples through sample letters, and he wrote this letter with his own words and my suggestions. He even said he'd add a lot of things by himself, and he's put a lot of thought into it. He wanted it to be perfect.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, a feeling of curiosity settling in your heart. When you didn't answered immediately, she continued,

“Trust me, if you had seen the original letter he was going to send you, you would have thrown him in the Black Lack and then jumped in yourself too. Honestly, that boy needs to understand how to use words.” She added, more to herself than you. 

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to open the letter. Anna said he spent a lot of time writing this, put a lot of thought into this, so it was bound to be a long letter and you need to prepare yourself for anything that would spill out of those pages. 

Looking at your expression, Anna rolled her eyes. “Okay, now you're just being dramatic. It's literally just a letter.” 

“I have every right to be dramatic.” You grumbled, it wasn't just a letter, it was his letter. You carefully peeled off the wax seal, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you removed it as gently as you could. When you had used stickers to seal your letters throughout your whole life, this felt oddly fancy. And despite the internal tug-of-war raging inside you, you pocketed it –the pastel purple seal with the Nott family crest was way too pretty to throw away. 

“Seriously?” Anna raised an eyebrow, giving you a look as you tucked it away, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You're keeping the seal now?” 

“Shut up, it's nice.” you muttered, taking out the letter from the envelope. It was a single sheet of thick paper, but it weighed as if you were holding the world's greatest treasure. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, another anxious habit, and took a deep breath. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic. 

But it seemed that whatever you prepared for, whatever you were being dramatic for, was thrown out of the window as you read the letter. 

Seeing your expression change from anxious to blank, Anna drew closer to you, searching your face for any expression. “What is it? What did he say?” 

A muscle ticked in your jaw. “How much time did you say he spent writing this?” 

“Well, I'm not sure how much time he spent writing it, but he was in the library for almost four hours—”

“Four hours.” you repeated, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down and pushed your hair out of your face. “He spent four hours writing this?”

Anna's expression flickered, a bit of hesitation in her eyes. “Uh…yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” you forced out, folding the letter and shoving it into the in your bag with more force than necessary. “Absolutely nothing. Just curious.” Your fingers tightened around the straps of your bag, resisting the urge to burn the damn thing to ashes.

“What did he say?” Anna asked, her eyes following your movements. “Let me see.”

You handed her the bag, the knot in your chest tightening. Exhaling slowly, you muttered, “He’s really poetic, you know. Shakespeare of our generation.” You tried to keep the sarcasm at bay, but Anna caught it.

She gave you a wary glance before scanning the letter. “Oh,” she breathed out softly. “Oh, he fucked up. He fucked up bad.”

When you opened it, your heart lodged in your throat, you’d expected long paragraphs confirming your hopes or fears. Instead, you got:

“Can we talk?”

No ‘please.’ Just that.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.” You stood, shouldering your bag. Turning to Anna, you tried to stay calm. “You said you helped him write it, right?”

Knowing where this was heading, Anna rolled her eyes and stood, meeting you at eye level on the higher step. “I didn’t suggest that, okay?”

You gave her a disbelieving look. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, fine—I did suggest it.” She sighed. “But that was after I snapped at him to write his own damn letter. Guess he didn’t listen.”

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and disappointment weighing down your heart. Four hours for this? You had seriously hoped the letter would have been longer, at least a single paragraph would have been nice, something to help untangle the mess in your mind. 

“Whatever,” you said after a beat of somewhat tense silence. “It doesn't matter. He sent a letter, I read it, end of discussion.” 

“What do you mean— hey! Where are you going?” 

“I have classes.” you said over your shoulder as you walked –stormed– away. Your grip on the strap of your bag was so tight, faint crescent moons dug into the leather from your nails. 

“Are you going to meet him?” Anna asked, trying to catch up with you but you were walking too fast. “Or reply?” 

“Meet him where? And when?” you snapped, your frustration was now slipping through your control the more you thought about his damn letter. “And most importantly; why?” 

◦ ✿ ◦∘ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ∘◦

Throughout the day, it seemed like the weather was mocking you. It was one of those soft days, as your mother used to say. Sunny, but not too sunny, windy, but it was a cool breeze against your hot, frustrated self. The white clouds floated above you softly, a stark contrast against the blue sky. 

Your disappointment from the morning was now a dull weight in your heart, a weight that kept tugging your lips down in a confused frown. Your disappointment was understandable, but why were you frustrated? You weren't sure. It's not like he had promised you anything and broke it. 

But it sure felt like one. 

Did he actually spend four hours writing that? Or was Anna just pulling your leg? If she isn't and is actually telling the truth, then Theodore must be an even bigger overthinker than you. 

‘If I was in his place, I would have never—...’ You cut your thoughts with a sigh. If you were in his place, you wouldn't have even looked at yourself twice. 

“Miss L/N!”

“Y-yes?” your eyes snapped towards the front of the class, where Professor Snape was giving you an annoyed look. Wonderful, you thought to yourself. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you realised everyone's eyes were on you –even Theodore's. 

‘Goddamn, his cheekbones could cut glass.’ You quickly reverted your eyes back towards Professor Snape and mentally slapped yourself, butterflies in your stomach fluttering so much you felt like throwing up. 

“Sorry Professor, it won't happen again.” you muttered out, wishing on all the holy things that you weren't making a fool out of yourself. 

For the rest of the class, you kept your head down and let your hair fall around your face to hide your still burning face. When the bell rang, you didn't jump out of your seat immediately, but instead took your time packing up your stuff. You weren't in a hurry to leave the class, you know that Anna would latch on your back as soon as you stepped out of the class, pursuing you to meet Theodore. 

You zipped up your bag, pretending that you didn't see his letter (that was now crumbled, thanks to your frustration) and how it made your heart race. 

When you stood up, ready to leave the now empty classroom and prepare yourself to run to your common room to avoid Anna, a little purple butterfly landed on your desk and laid still on the surface. 

At a closer look, you saw that it wasn't just any butterfly, it was a paper butterfly. The origami looked so real you had half a heart to not even open it but you still did. You've never seen an origami this neat and were curious to know who made it. 

Inside, a familiar slanted, cursive handwriting greeted you. Your heart speed up at an alarming rate, so you sat down, staring at the note. 

I'll meet you tomorrow? 

– T.N

════════════════ ✦ ✧ ════════════════

taglist: @tomriddleslove , @moonlightfoxs-cantina , @sincerelycarolines , @mqstermindswift , @jetblackpayne , @unicorns1993 , @lovedlorned, @remuslupinsswifey, @keilovr , @bruisedbbby , @pretty-royals

[yanderefarm]

I'm so feral about Nephite, like I want to just keep him on my lap for weeks.

Would he be okay with wearing a collar if reader gifted it to him, readers name engraved on the leather, Nephite's name in cursive letters on a pendant.

Idk man isk

i remember talking about omega collars with my friend awhile ago and i stumbled upon a post that tried to make omegaverse collars that work as guards for scent glands/marks. so i know you meant a more traditional dog collar but this is what made sense to me. and i even drew it!

the idea

cw;; omegaverse, religion, suggestive, marking

nephite was surprised when you mentioned a collar, you talked about it so casually like it was inevitable that he would wear a collar. the omega flustered, his face growing red as he struggled to find his words.

"wh-what do you me-mean? my-my collar..."

"oh. are you not ok with it? i knew a lot of omegas who would get collars to protect their scent glands."

"oh!! oh... ri-right! lots of... lots of other... omegas..." he shifted from side to side in your lap his hands fidgeting and fumbling.

"i want to get something nice that'll show off your bite without exposing your neck. what do you think?"

"uhm... o-ok..."

honestly nephite had only agreed because he worried you preferred omegas in collars. if he said no maybe you wouldn't want him anymore!! maybe you would run off with a collared omega, a more obedient one. so despite his own hesitations to be caught wearing such a thing he agreed.

until he saw it.

it was a genuine omega collar that covered up the crook of his neck in a beautiful white lace with golden patterns woven into it. the middle of it was chained together with a sturdy chain, towards the bottom of it was a beautiful blue gem that opened up to show your name and address. his own name was embroidered on the back of the collar that would be hidden by his hair. like his own name was unimportant in the face of your ownership.

"you won't have to wear turtlenecks anymore."

"oh-oh... i... we-well those were for modesty..."

"you don't have to be modest anymore."

his cheeks turned a bright pink as you stepped forward, your fingers undoing the collar's latches.

"maybe... maybe we should w-wait...?" he took a step back from you.

you tilted your head, concerned. "what's wrong? do you not like it? i picked the gold to match your eyes."

"i... i like it... i do!" he did. it was so thoughtful and intimate, his heart was racing.

"but...?"

"but... it feels... a little.... inappropriate..? sh-should i really wear that in public...."

"you don't have to but it's really not something perverted. you can see omegas in collars all the time in the city."

he fidgeted back and forth. "do you like omegas in collars?"

"i mean it's hot. I've always wanted to put a collar on my own omega and show the world I own you."

he shivered. "you... mmngh... you just said it's not dirty."

"it's not! just because something is sexy doesn't mean it's dirty. like wearing thigh highs or low cut tops."

"those both sound sinful."

"ok... but is it sinful for an alpha to own his omega?"

"no..."

"so it's fine!"

"i... mmngh... i really want to wear it... i do! i just... everyone will stare..."

you stepped closer this time reaching out to him with an empty hand, like you were approaching a startled cat. nephite didn't pull away this time instead he moved a little bit closer to your hand.

"everyone should stare at you. everyone should look at you and think 'wow there goes the prettiest omega I've ever seen'. and then they'll see my bright red mark under your collar and know that you're mine."

"I'm yours..." his cheeks were red as he nuzzled into your hand.

you reached forward with the collar and started to slowly slide it on him. he let out a little moan.

"I'm yours."

"mhm. my pretty omega."

nephite moved his hair out of the way as you tightened the collar around his neck. the cold metal laid against his windpipe just tight enough to always remind him of it's presence. he reached up to the blue gem and started to fiddle with it.

"uhmm.. i-i know you just put it on but... can-can we go to the bedroom... and m-maybe make more marks underneath...."

[inniebin]

What nicknames bf!skz would give you~

--------------------------------------

Pairing - ot8 x reader

Genre - Fluff, angst-ish for Seungmin (sorry minnie stans 😭)

CW - Smacking (affectionate!!), mention of worshipping, bad language.

Chan;

There was one time when him, Changbin and Jisung were working on an upcoming comeback and you were sitting on the couch with the younger members of 3racha while Chan was on his chair. He had gotten a notification on his phone and looked down to read it and spoke without looking up, "Baby girl, can you go get the food we ordered? It's just arrived." You stood up and ushered a quick "Yeah" as you left the room while Changbin and Jisung were looking at each other with their eyes wide. Chan hadn't realised he had called you 'baby girl' until you had left and he heard the other two burst into laughter and tapping his shoulder. He quickly smacked their heads and told them to shut up before you came back in. You came back and didn't even question why Changbin and Jisung were wiping tears from their eyes and catching their breath while Chan was blushing like crazy.

Minho;

You two were just cuddling on the couch watching some shitty movie on the TV when you looked up at Minho and called his name. "Hm?" he hummed without taking his eyes off of the screen. "I want a kitten" you said which got him to look down at you, smiling "Already have one." He laughed when he saw your confused face. "You do?" You thought he only had Soonie, Doongie and Dori. "Yeah, you. You're like a kitten, clingy as hell and always pestering me." You smacked his arm, "Hey! Rude..." He smirked at your reaction. "I never said that was a bad thing, Kitten." You blushed and tried to focus on the movie again, not before catching him smirking into your neck before giving it a peck.

Changbin;

Honestly? He calls you by a bunch of nicknames but his favourite has got to be 'princess'. He thinks that you look like a princess so he most definitely thinks that you should be treated like one. He pretty much worships you and the ground you walk on. You can't even go an hour without him calling you 'princess'. Be it when you're spending time together and just chilling or when he texts you while he's producing another song or practicing in the dance studio. If he's the one to text first then you should fully expect to see it starting with 'Princess' or 'Hey princess'. His goodbyes definitely include the word too, "Bye Princess!!" or "I love you, see you later princess ❤". Blushes like mad and tells you to stop when you call him a nickname but thinks it's fine to call you by one 24/7. Gets all giggly when you call him 'Prince' because he thinks it's cute that you two have matching nicknames.

Hyunjin;

Stays want to know why his favourite thing to paint are flowers. The answer? That's the nickname he has for you. He has a whole sketchbook just for drawing and painting flowers. If you dye your hair? He paints flowers only that colour until you change it. He has a second sketchbook that he fills with flowers. Every page is covered, except the middle two. Those two pages have a drawing of you in the the middle and at the top "My Flower" is written in cursive. Around the drawing of you are things he has written himself. Things that remind him of you and how he feels about you. On your 1 year anniversary he had given you the complete sketchbook and once you see the middle pages, you start to cry which in turn makes him cry too. Little did you know that he would do this every year and when your 4 year anniversary hit, instead of it being a drawing of you it was a drawing of a ring with the words 'Will You Marry Me?' at the top.

Jisung;

I know this is simple but... 'baby'. Whenever he's writing a romantic song he makes sure to have at least one 'baby' in it. He knows that you know it's his nickname for you so he found a way to dedicate every song to you without mentioning your name. I also think that Jisung would want to be more private with relationships. I'm talking private, not even the members know about you. Jisung told his members about you a few weeks after your 1 year anniversary, announcing it publically 2 months later. He thought that his first live after the announcement was hell. STAYs were constantly teasing him in the comments about finally knowing who 'baby' was in all his songs, making him blush while you're laughing at him from the other side of the room.

Felix;

He called you 'Chick' once when you firsted dating and it kinda just stuck with him. He was so happy when he was able to choose his SKZOO to be a chicken. Whenever they are touring and you're not able to join them, he'll steal some of his favourite perfumes of yours and spray Bbokari with them. He likes to pretend that it's you that he's hugging every night to help him fall asleep. Not before sending you a 'goodnight' voice message obviously. If you wear an outfit that he loves then he'll try find Bbokari a matching version and get you to take photos together and put the in the 'family photos' album on his phone.

Seungmin;

He doesn't really like nicknames so when he does use one on you it's normally 'love' and it normally means he's done something that he thinks you'll be mad at or he's just not had a good day. Today? His day was horrible. He kept messing up choreography to the point where he had to sit out and he just couldn't get his lines right in the studio. You walk through the front door to see all of the lights off, the only source being the reflection of Seungmin's phone on his face as you see him lying on the couch with himself wrapped in a blanket as you go to make yourself a drink in the kitchen. He notices you and whispers a small "Hey, love." Your attention is immediately shifted from your glass to him. "What's wrong?" You look at him with a worried expression. His eyes start to tear up, "Today was just shitty..." You rush over to him when you hear a quiver in his voice and kneel down so you can hug him. "Hey... you're fine, tomorrow will be better. I promise." You say before you tell him to scooch over and let you under the blanket so you can smother him in cuddles.

Jeongin;

He had just got back to your shared apartment after a long day of preparing for a comeback, stuff like practicing choreo and recording lines. He was too tired to even get himself to your bedroom because he caught sight of you watching TV on the couch and literally plopped next to you. His head was resting on your right shoulder and you moved your left hand up so you can play with his hair. "Hm... Bub that feels nice." He muttered as he started nodding off to sleep, 'Bub?' you thought. You decided not to wake him up and quiz him on it, deciding to do that in the morning so you could also see his flustered face.