#can’t think of anything else but it’ll come to me eventually

[yinyuedijun]

phainon wip snippet that i may or may not delete

posting this at @nazberry-icecream's request. I will be real with you guys I drafted this while drunk/high last night and I'm not sure what to do with it because it's. good in some places but it's also incredibly bad in others and the canon accuracy is questionable. I'm not sure if it's salvageable SLKDFJLJSDf

canon context: bath tub is from this event

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

Phainon realizes that he’s in love with you at age nineteen, on the day he catches you running through Marmoreal Palace in nothing but a towel and pair of wet slippers. You're waving at him, calling his name, your skin still damp with bathwater and a sunlit smile stretched across your face. For a minute, he thinks he’s hallucinating—dreaming, probably, though usually his dreams about you wearing next to nothing aren’t nearly so ridiculous—but the way you grip him by the shoulders feels too real to be a fantasy.

The way you wheeze and cough at him, too.

“I’ve found you a birthday present,” you say, and he can tell from your voice that you’re dead serious.

“Oh,” he replies. He can't think of anything else to say when confronted with the image of you panting and holding onto him in nothing but a towel.

“I need to give it to you now,” you tell him.

He blinks. Then laughs. “Now?”

“Now.”

“You don’t want to put on clothes first?”

“I don’t need to have clothes on to give this to you.”

Alright. Phainon must be dreaming. There is no way in his real, actual life that you’d ever give him a present while intentionally this close to being naked. But he plays along with his incredibly shameful dream and laughs, “Sure.”

You’re excited to show him whatever you’ve found. Coming up with a birthday present for him is your worst nightmare, and one you struggle with every year. It makes me feel like a bad friend, you always moan. But I can’t ever think of anything good. You never want anything.

Phainon gives you suggestions each year, rattling them off in a list that never satisfies you. I could always use a new sword, he’d said, and you’d replied, I’m not going to get you something for your work. Then he tried, New armor could be nice, and you’d whined and replied, That’s what Aglaea wanted for you—she hates your sense of style, you know. As a last resort, he’d said, It would be nice to go to that new Aurelian restaurant together, and this time you’d scowled: That’s where I wanted to go! You don't even like Aurelian cuisine! And you always pay the bill when I’m not looking whenever we go out to eat—how am I supposed to let you pay for your own birthday meal!

Pretty easily, he’d replied cheerfully. All you have to do is sit there while I go pay.

You’d groaned.

Your birthday is about you! What do you want?! What would you like?!

“I like seeing you happy,” he always answers, smiling brightly—because it always gets you flustered, and he rather likes that too.

You think he's being insincere. You accuse him of being a terrible flirt, which he finds unfair, because he’s not flirting—he really does just like seeing you happy. He likes seeing you glow, kicking your feet and grinning in a way he’d have never been able to imagine back in the refugee camp. He was worried, for a long time, that you’d always be as miserable as the way you were back then. That you’d never want to eat. That you’d never want to talk. That you’d starve to death in silence, forever caught in the grip of the Flame Reaver—torn apart like the rest of Aedes Elysiae.

That Phainon would fail to protect you, the way he’d failed everyone else back home.

But you’d healed, eventually. Mostly. Sometimes Phainon catches you in moments of melancholy, a distance between you that he can’t figure out how to traverse. Catches you thinking about home, and your family, and all the other things you miss. He’ll give them back to you one day—you’ll see them all again when he ushers in the Era Nova, and he’ll be able to see you smile like never before—but it’ll be a long time until then. It’ll be a long time before he can deliver this wish of yours.

He guesses that it’s enough seeing you like this for now, though: beaming as you drag him through the palace, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the marble underneath you. You lead him into the bath house, and he’s so endeared that he plays along without even questioning it. More than happy to humour whatever’s got you bouncing with so much excitement.

He also plays along because he really wants to see the rest of this dream. He has high expectations for its course: you’re holding his hand, dragging him into a bath, wearing nothing but a flimsy little towel. It's clear where this is going.

But then it doesn’t go there.

You let go of Phainon’s hand, and you don’t drag him into the water, and you keep your towel on. Instead, you lead Phainon to a very old, very plain tub—a lacklustre sight in comparison to you—and gesture at it.

“Here,” you say smugly.

He stares. “You’re giving me a used bathtub?”

“I’m giving you a treasure. This old thing is made out of Sacred Tree Wood—can you believe it? I thought the attendant was full of it when she told me, but I inspected it and I’m pretty sure it’s the genuine article.”

“Huh,” Phainon says, still too distracted by the sight of you to really pay attention to any bathtub, sacred or not. You mistake this for fascination.

“Take a look for yourself,” you insist. “It’s most obvious if you look at the detailing inside the tub—here, let me show you—”

You climb into the tub, and your towel stays on, and you really do just show him all the characteristics of the wood hinting at its origins. Phainon can’t fathom it. He’s probably been spending too much time appraising antiques with Theodoros, and now his hobby’s invaded his favourite dreams. He needs to get another pastime.

He plays along anyway: “Sure,” he says, crouching down to peer at its make, his lips curled into a smile. “I'll take a look.”

Twenty minutes later, his eyes have gone wide and his jaw has gone slack. He lifts the bathtub with his bare hands and carries it out of the bath house, making a beeline to Theodoros’ shop—with you and a frazzled bath attendant in tow. You’re practically bouncing on your heels as Phainon receives his certificate of authenticity—and then you balk when he asks Theodoros how much he’ll get when he sells it.

You give him a betrayed look. “Are you really going to re-sell my gift?! I thought I'd finally found something you'd like!”

“I did like it,” he says. “And I’m going to sell it. I enjoy finding and appraising treasures, but I never really hang onto them. There are always better places for them to go.”

You give him a sullen look. “So you didn't like my gift.”

“No,” he says gently. “I loved it. This was a lot of fun, but it’d be a waste for me to actually keep a relic like this. It belongs in a place like Theodoros’ collection, where everyone can see it.”

You frown, clearly dissatisfied. “Then what kind of gift would you keep?”

Phainon shrugs. “There’s nothing I really need,” he answers truthfully, and the noise you make is so comical in its frustration that he realises instantly that this isn’t a dream. Despite the remarkable ability of his subconscious to recreate your body down to the most minute details (Phainon pays a great deal of attention to it in his waking hours, after all), it’s not that great at capturing your funnier idiosyncrasies. That scowl of yours—along with your long-time obsession with finding him the perfect birthday gift—can only be the genuine article.

He understands now that all of this is real. And because it is real, so too must be his desire to kiss you.

Phainon wants to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you in the middle of Marmoreal Market in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you to the theatre and give you gifts and court you properly in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you home and watch his parents fawn over you in his real, actual life. Because they’d have adored you. They’d have been excited about you. They’d have invited you over for suncakes and venison every night, and they’d have had you over for Oronyx prayers, and they’d have cried during his wedding with you. It was one of their biggest wishes for him to find someone nice and marry them properly, after all—and he can’t imagine anyone nicer than you.

They’d have loved you.

And they will love you some day, when he collects the last coreflame and delivers all of humanity into Era Nova. They’ll love you just like in all his dreams.

[ky-pup]

Introduction!

Hi! My name is Kai. I’m 23 and use he/it pronouns. I am bi, trans, and poly. Pre op but on and off T for over 2 years now. Almost always smokin 🍃

OF is up! I try to do small photoshoots and videos about once a week. Teasers will be posted on here as well! Teasers will be from photo sets that gets posted on OF. Any photosets can also be purchased through DMs and Cashapp. I also do custom content too! Message me for info about that

I looove being a cute little puppyboy and that’s what most of this tumblr is about but it’s basically anything I am into.

Yes - breeding, cnc, petplay, size difference, intox

Hard No’s - scat, vom1t, detrans/misgender, p1ss in mouth, age/play

If it isn’t a hard no, I’m at least willing to try.

DNI - homophobic, transphobic, racist, ableist. MIK/MAP. Under 18

Names you can call me -baby boy, prince, pup, puppy, kitten, slvt, etc. as long as it’s not super feminine

Also feel free to ask any questions or message if you wanna be friends! Would love more subby puppies to be friends with and be horny with

$kyluc8

Non horny about me under the cut!

I have two partners, one who I live with and the other (I know you’re reading this XD so stop lurking and message me on here ;) ) is long distance for now. I also have a cat named Louie who I love with all my heart XD

I am autistic. This makes me very awkward and hard to keep conversation with. Don’t let this stop you from talking to me. I’m just weird XD

My current hyperfixations are trolls, fnaf, tadc, and greys anatomy. I also like stuff like Minecraft, the owl house, hazbin, pokemon, miraculous and a lot of other shit. Music, I mainly listen to stuff like pierce the veil and motionless in white but honestly, my main playlist is all over the place

Thank you for taking the time to actually get to know me cx I am high as shit writing this so props to you for getting through it

[libingan]

—no questions asked.

you’ve always been his, even before the words were ever said—no labels needed when everything else speaks for itself.

i remember candace and jeremy's relationship in phineas and ferb. i liked how jeremy assumed they were already dating and thought to myself "simon riley" so here it is.

it’s always been this way with simon.

the little things you’ve shared, those moments that nobody else gets to see, have slowly built up over time. long drives where the silence is comfortable, quiet moments when you’re wrapped up in a blanket together, his arm draped around your shoulders. you’ve shared soft kisses in the early morning light, whispered words when you think no one’s listening, and occasional touches that linger just a second too long to be deemed innocent. his gruff voice calling you his—just “his,” as if you’re already a part of something bigger, something unspoken.

but the question always lingers in the back of your mind: what are we?

because in your head, you’re not his girlfriend. you never really were. sure, you’ve done couple things—spent hours together, laughed over inside jokes, shared moments that feel like they belong to only the two of you. but whenever you think about it, you can’t quite place a label on what you are. you never had that conversation, the one where he asks you out, where you define what this thing between you is.

and deep down, you’ve always known. maybe it’s not meant to last. maybe simon’s just passing through your life like a storm, wild and unpredictable, leaving you wondering if you’ll ever feel whole again once the dust settles. you’ve never asked for a commitment. it was enough for you to just be close, to keep things easy and fluid, without any promises that might eventually break.

but then, everything changes the moment you decide to confront him.

it’s a quiet night, the kind where the world outside seems to stop, and you’re sitting in the living room, the only sound being the soft hum of the kitchen light. simon’s sprawled across the couch, eyes half-lidded as he scrolls through his phone. you’re sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning your back against the coffee table, and you can’t stop your thoughts from swirling.

the truth has been eating at you for weeks now, months maybe. you have to ask. you need to know if this is really what you want, and more importantly, if it’s what simon wants. so, you let the question slip, unsure of how it’ll come out, but it tumbles from your lips all the same.

“simon,” you begin, your voice quiet but firm, “what are we?”

he doesn’t immediately look up from his phone. it’s as if the question barely registers, but you know he’s heard it. you can feel his attention slowly turning your way, as if his brain needs a second to process the weight of your words.

he puts the phone down, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at you, his gaze soft but intense. he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, his lips curl into a small, knowing smirk.

“what do you mean?” his voice is low, almost like he’s testing the waters.

you swallow, feeling a tightness in your chest, and you try to make your words come out right. “i mean… we do all this stuff, simon. you call me yours, and i… i don’t even know where i stand. we’ve never really talked about what this is. are we… are we dating, or what?”

he blinks at you for a moment, clearly taken aback by your words. it’s almost funny, how much you’ve thought about it, how much you’ve analyzed your every interaction, while simon has likely never questioned it. it’s simple to him. and that’s when it hits you—he’s never even considered that this could be anything other than what it is.

he sighs, a deep, exasperated sound, and leans back into the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. “what are you on about, woman? you’re my girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can’t quite process them. you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him right. it almost sounds like he’s stating a fact, like it’s something as simple as breathing. his voice is firm, unwavering, as if this was always meant to be the case.

you feel your breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in, and then—just like that—all your worries melt away. you don’t even know why you were so worried in the first place. the uncertainty, the anxiety, it all seems so silly now. you’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all. simon is, as always, so simon about it. there’s no drama, no overthinking, no need for big conversations or declarations.

you’re his. you’re his girlfriend. and there’s no debate.

the relief hits first, followed closely by a mix of amusement and a small flash of annoyance. you try to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “wait... just like that? no question, no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ just… you’re my girlfriend?”

he meets your gaze, nonchalant, and shrugs. “that’s right. you’re mine. no need for any of that nonsense. i’ve already decided.”

you stare at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. it’s the way he speaks, like he’s already certain, already claimed you. and it feels… good. reassuring, even. but also, just a little bit frustrating. because, honestly, how do you even argue with that?

“god, you’re impossible,” you mutter, a grin breaking through as you roll your eyes. “seriously. you’re so damn sure about everything.”

he just smirks back, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “you should be glad i am, sweetheart. now, come here.”

he pats his lap, and before you can protest, you’re already moving toward him, the tension from moments before completely gone. his arms pull you close, and you settle against him, feeling his familiar warmth. you don’t even need the words anymore. somehow, just being with him like this is enough.

and that, you realize, is exactly what simon’s always known.

[rex-rambles]

➤ YOU CAME? YOU CALLED | MAX VERSTAPPEN

summary: you don't mean to call Max when you get mugged on the streets of Monaco, but he shows up anyway

pairing: max verstappen x ex!reader

wc: 2.6 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending, discussions of break ups, mugging, minor bodily harm, and insecurities

➤ MASTERLIST

You hadn’t really meant to call Max. You’d memorized his number by now, typed it into your phone enough times, but you’d never meant to press call. 

You’d never meant for him to pick up. “What’s wrong?” It wasn’t a surprise, that something terrible must have happened for you to call him. 

It wasn’t like that, once. Once, you’d been madly in love and called every evening you could, spent every hour together, but love runs out eventually. That honeymoon feeling wears off, and you’re left fighting in the dull heat of Monaco’s late nights, storming off a yacht for the last time. 

“It’s nothing,” You manage to say, hanging up, and letting your head drop into your hands. It was nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Being mugged at knife point wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to you, you weren’t even really hurt. 

The paramedics insisted on bandaging up your hand, where the knife had managed to cut you, but it shouldn't have been anything major to Max. Before that doomed fight, he had been acting like every time you left the house you were heading into a war zone. Telling him you were mugged? At knife point? You would be proving him and his need to control you right, and even if you wanted him here, you'd never admit it.

“It’s nothing?” The paramedic asks, staring down at where you're perched on the sidewalk. “You need a ride home.” 

“I’ll be fine.” But you don’t move, and the paramedic doesn’t believe you. “I called the wrong person.” You finally say, pretending to dial another number and pressing the phone to your ear, and you pretend to have a conversation with someone who cares about you and is worried the normal amount and rushing here as quick as they can. 

The paramedics get a more important call, and you’re left on your own on the sidewalk, thinking of whether you should call a taxi, or just walk when the sound of a motor cuts through the night. It would be an ignorable noise, if you hadn’t known Max for so long. 

It would be an ignorable noise, if you didn’t know the exact make and model of the car, and the man behind the wheel. At a speed you can’t fathom for Monaco’s tight streets, Max and his Valkyrie appears, and it isn't lost on you that Max came, in his fastest car, when you called.

You try not to let it jump-start all those feelings tucked away in your heart, watching the car come to a screeching halt in front of you. With little regard for anyone else out on the street, he parks in the middle of it and is at your side without caring to close the car door.

“I don’t care if it’s nothing,” he says, a soft anger in his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“I…” you don’t want to admit you were mugged, because then it’ll turn into a thing about strength, about you needing Max, and you’re not ready to admit that yet. “You came.” 

“You called.” He says, coming to crouch before you. “You know I’ll always answer.” 

His eyes drop to your hand, and he pauses, slowly raising it up into the streetlight. You know he can tell it’s fresh, and his eyes flick up to yours with a dark expression. “It’s nothing.”

“Stop lying to me, liefje.” The word slips out, you think, Max so used to saying it. It had only been a month without being called that, and you hate to say you missed it. “Nothing has to happen between us again, but you need to tell me the truth. What happened?”

Rather than answering, your eyes drift past him to his car, and you realize you'd never told him where you were. “How did you know where to find me?” You ask and Max sighs, slowly letting your hand rest on your leg as he debates his answer.

Knowing him, it was probably some hidden air tag or something on you, but if it had been in your purse, it was long gone from now. “You never unshared your location." He answers finally, and you spare a glance down at your phone on the sidewalk. It wasn't his fault, you suppose, that he wanted to know where you were at all times with the fame he was accustomed to. You just weren't used to being known like that, being controlled, even if it was for your safety. "Now, for the last time, what happened?” 

“I was mugged.” You admit quietly, and Max’s head snaps up to look at you, shock plain on his features. "I don't sleep well alone, so I've been going for late night walks, and I know you're going to lecture me about not being safe, but I want to live my life, Max." The words just sort of tumble out, the whole reason you separated now hanging between the two of you. "I know you want to protect me, but it-"

“Are you hurt? Your hand?” Max cuts you off, and you raise it up to wiggle your fingers in an attempt to show you're fine, but the stretch makes you wince.

“I tried to grab it out of his hand, but he made off with my purse.” It had hurt like hell, but somehow, your pride hurt more. 

You were tired of doing everything wrong, of being told where to go and when, or how to act. You just wanted to be alone with yourself for once, and you ended up on the other end of a knife. You didn't want to say Max was right, but maybe he was. “You tried…to grab it.” 

“The knife, so he wouldn’t stab me.” Without much ceremony, Max reaches out and pulls you into his arms, hand coming up to cradle your head as he presses it into his shoulder. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers into the top of your head, and tears spring up before you can help it. 

You’d held it together this long, but it had been terrifying, and Max’s arms felt like a home you hadn’t realized you’d miss. He seems to sense your tears, gently rubbing circles into your back. 

“And I am going to lecture you about walking alone at night,” he continues, making you scowl into his chest, “But it doesn’t have to be with me.”

“What?” You wrench back, staring up at him as if you didn’t hear that right. 

He stares right back, watching the few stray tears run down your cheeks, and you realize, in that instant, what he's saying. "I want to keep you safe, but...you're not happy like that. If...if you need someone who doesn't smother you to be happy, then you should have that person, and take them on your stupid late night walks."

Were you smothered? It wasn't the wrong word, you suppose, but it wasn't like Max had meant it to be as painful as it was. He could have anything he wanted, anyone he wanted, but he was so protective of what he had, like he couldn't stand to lose it.

And yet, for you, for your happiness, he was willing to let you go again. The tears well up once more, for your hand, for the fear of being mugged, for Max, and confusion overrides the sympathy on his face.

"You...don't want that?" Max infers softly, and you shove against his chest to create some space between you as you try to figure out what to say.

That you still love him? That despite the smothering, he was the first person you knew to call, the first person you wanted to call, and he came, in his fastest car, to come get you?

That he was telling you to find another man to be happy with, to protect you, when you just wanted him? "Listen, you can't just go walking on your own, this is what happens!"

"I should be able to!" You snap, taking a heaving breath as you try to calm yourself. "I just-I should be able to do what I want, Max, with who I want. If I want to walk with you at night, it shouldn't be because I need some protector, but because I want you."

"Do you want me to walk with you at night?"

You blink at him, tears slowing as you try to figure out what he's asking you. "Of course I do, Max." You answer softly. "I always did."

"Then why didn't you say something?" You'd tried. You kept asking to go out, and he'd tell you that it was too dangerous, and it would become an argument before you could even ask him to join you.

"I did, but you always made it about how I can't go out at night. And if it wasn't late night walks, it was just doing random errands on a day off, or going on a girl's trip, or wandering around all the places you were racing." You know he didn't mean to be controlling, but he was. The only way to get space was to walk away from him, and it hurt like hell. Max opens his mouth, and you quickly shush him to continue. "And before you go off on some tangent about how it's not safe, I get it. I mean, I got mugged tonight! But the potential of something bad happening doesn't mean to stop the good from happening, too."

Max's eyes drop from yours, turned to look down the street. In this light, it's hard to blame him for anything at all, but it wasn't fair. Not to you, and not to him.

"Max," You offer quietly, "Look at me."

"You scare me." Max says, voice barely audible in the night. Turned away, you almost pretend he didn't say it at all. "I've never felt this way before, about anyone. I'm terrified something is going to happen to you, and it's going to be all my fault."

"Love, that's not-"

"My first race, you got lost in the crowd. Someone could've...could've done terrible things to you. That time you got ambushed by paparazzi, you got lost in Montreal, I just...I've only ever wanted you to be safe and happy, but..." But you weren't happy like this, despite how safe you were.

And Max was finally realizing it. "But you let the safety part control our relationship. I promise you Max, nothing bad is going to happen to me because you weren't there."

"But it did tonight." You suck in a breath, coming to gently cradle Max's face in your hands, and forcing him to look back at you.

If it were anyone else this stubborn, you would give up this fight, but it's Max, whose life is fast-paced and hellish at the best of times. You hadn't realized how much of this was about him, and his abilities, and not you and your restrictions. You were still mad at him, justified for walking away, but the longer he was close to you, the more your resolve broke.

This wasn't supposed to end in heartbreak. This was supposed to be a bump in the road where Max realized he was being overbearing, but how can you truly be angry at anyone for caring?

He wanted you safe, but he needed to realize that the ways he was going about it weren't right. As he'd said, there's a difference between safe and smothered, and you had stepped away before it had gotten to that point.

And even now, having gone against him, and gotten hurt, it was alright in the end, and as stupid as it was to say, he needed to realize that. "And?"

Max blinks twice, as if trying to calculate how you came to that conclusion. "And what?"

"And I'm fine. I'm a bit banged up, and without a purse, but I'm alive, and I'm with you." Max opens his mouth to speak again, and of his own will, he shuts it promptly. You let out a sad laugh at his restraint, and he cracks the barest smile in response.

"Only you could turn a mugging into a good thing." Max leans forward, gently resting his forehead against yours, and it takes a fair amount of restraint to not kiss him. "I'm sorr-"

"You can't apologize for something you didn't cause." The last thing you need is for him to blame himself for you getting hurt because he wasn't there.

In this life, there are always going to be things out of your control, but it's up to you and Max to work together against them, rather than let that anxiety rule over everything.

"Then I'm sorry for you thinking you couldn't call me." Tears swim in his eyes, cracking open to look at you, and you move your head back to look at him properly.

"You know, I really didn't mean to call you at all, but it was just sort of instinctual." Max nods solemnly, like he's committed some great sin, and you gently run your thumb over his cheek. “It’s a good thing, I think.” 

“You think?” 

"If you think I'd never call you again because you care about me too much, you are sorely mistaken." You smile, and Max attempts the same. "I'm sorry for putting distance between us the way I did, but I think we needed it."

"Need is a strong word." Max mutters softly, endearing in the way he tries to frown and fails. "I just...I don’t know how to do this any other way." You expect another argument, but instead, Max hesitates. It's obvious he has something to say, but instead, he very gently pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead. "But if you'd let me...we can try?"

That's all you want. For him to hear you, to understand you, for him to just try. You know he won't suddenly be perfect overnight, and neither will you, but it's enough to just try.

His eyes flicker down your face, quickly returning to your eyes, and that same old guilt returns, and without much thought, you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips, and instantly, he's melting in your arms like that touch was all he needed, moving his hands to your hips to gently guide you towards him again. "I can do that," You whisper against his lips. "We're going to try, and you're going to try to understand that whatever happens, it's not your fault. Never was, and never will be."

"And you are going to try and not get lost as often, okay?" You press another quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

"Deal." You and Max just stare at each other, curled up on some sidewalk in Monaco, and you both realize the strangeness of it at the same time. "Take me home?" You ask softly, and without a word Max is up and on his feet, hand extended to help you up. There's a joke to be made here, about him being eager, but you save it for a night with a bit less emotion. He helps you into the Valkyrie and gets in the driver's seat, but he doesn't turn on the car, or plug himself in.

Rather, he turns to look at you, reaching over and taking your bandaged hand in his. "I love you." He says, unlike how he's ever said it before. It's not a statement, a confession, or some poetic thing, it's just the truth.

He says it, as if no matter what happened tonight, if you stormed away furious or made up, he'd say it all the same.

He says it with the understanding that you'd call, and he'd come find you, no matter what. And, gently squeezing his hand in yours, you know it's enough to make this work.

"I love you too."

a/n: i can't really explain where all this came from besides a good, sad playlist and a 2 hour road trip :) enjoy

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

How the LADS men help their gf with anxiety

The LADS (separate) girlfriend has been feeling anxious lately, what do they do to help?

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, vague mentions of 'something' happening that triggered the gf, fluff, comfort

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Rafayel 

She had been extra anxious all day, all week really. It had been building and she didn’t know why. She kept it from Rafayel, not wanting to bother him with something she wasn’t even sure she could talk about. But it was beginning to be too much, her body shaking, mind racing, glancing in every direction. She felt impending doom, whether that be something about to happen to her career or her relationship with the artist. Speaking of, the artist himself, Rafayel, hadn’t come home yet. That pushed her anxiety even further, checking her calendar and seeing he had nowhere to be at this time. Had he been upset about something? She hadn’t even seen him yet though. Was he struggling? Was he second guessing their relationship? 

She wasn’t given too much time to entertain her thoughts of where her boyfriend could be, as he came through the door, face brightening when he saw her. “Hi Cutie! I didn’t expect to see you today,” he smiled at her, arms full of shells. She smiled and nodded at him, not wanting to burden him. “I was down at the beach getting some supplies,” he explained, walking over and plopping down his pile of shells, rocks, and whatever else he deemed a useful supply. “Those damn seagulls were about to fight me for some too. I swear they have something against me, like they think I’m food. Stupid birds. All they can do is be annoying and squawk or beg for food. I suppose they also pester humans too. Anyway, I almost lost an arm getting some of these,” he sighed. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him, not even catching onto his dramatics. Alarm bells rang in Rafayel’s head. She usually would reply with a snarky comeback, not seem genuinely worried about him. Something was off about her. 

“Of course,” he answered, moving to sit next to his girlfriend on the couch, immediately wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “They couldn’t catch a slippery fish like me.” 

“That’s good,” she muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Rafayel asked her tentatively. She nodded her head, but he didn’t believe her. “You sure? You seem off today especially. Did something happen? You know you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you, right?” 

“I know,” she took in a breath. She had never really talked about her anxiety to him. It used to be much more of a problem, but she had been doing much better in the past few years, not struggling with it as much. This week was the exception. How would he react? Would he change his mind and believe she was too much to deal with? Too emotional? “I’ve just been really anxious today,” she eventually answered, looking towards the floor. 

“About what?” he asked, curious. 

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “It’s not the first time. I never really told you, but I do have anxiety. I had been doing really really well, but for some reason this week I’ve just been so on edge and it’s been piling up. It’s bad today.” Rafayel held her a bit closer, noticing that she did seem more jittery than normal, her mind not fully present, almost. 

“It happens. Things can’t always get better and better. Sometimes we have bad weeks, that doesn’t mean you are going to be back at square one. Anxiety sucks,” he breathed. She looked up at him with her head tilted. He said it as if he had experienced it. “I also have anxiety,” he answered her before she could ask the question. “Or did? I’m not sure if I still qualify as having it, but there was a long period of time where I really struggled. I’ve been quote unquote, stable, for a while now, not needing any medication or anything. Is there anything I can do to help? For me painting always helped, duh, but we can do whatever you want.” 

“Honestly? Painting doesn’t sound too bad right now. Can you maybe walk me through the process? It’ll maybe help me focus on something,” she agreed. Rafayel smiled at her, excited to paint with his girlfriend. But since this is Rafayel, he started by getting out his paint making supplies so they could make paint together and then paint together from start to finish. He had put some background music on, as that was what he always wanted when he had felt anxious and began to walk her through the process. They grinded up various shells and things Rafayel gathered from the sea, then mixed it in with the binding ingredient, tested it and began to paint. Y/n was mostly silent, focusing on the process and Rafayel’s instructions or jokes. It did help. She no longer felt quite as anxious. Rafayel had suggested they work on the same canvas and create something together, which she agreed to. At first, Rafayel had been helping, giving instructions on what to paint. Of course acting out his cliche fantasy, moving behind his girlfriend, placing his hand over hers and guiding her strokes. It made her laugh, so he deemed it a success. Eventually, as time went on and their painting became more and more alive, their conversation died. They grew into a comfortable silence, focusing solely on the canvas in front of them or the music softly playing. 

“It’s stunning,” Rafayel said when they finished, admiring their work. “I didn’t know my Cutie was also an artist.” 

“It’s not like I did that much,” she argued. 

“I think you did. We made the paints and created this together. Hmm, I would say this needs to be hung at an exhibit, but I think I like it too much for that. Above my bed will do,” he decided. 

“That seems like a bit much don-”

“Hush. I’ll hang it when it’s done drying. Have you eaten already?” he asked, standing up from the stool he was sitting on and stretching his sore limbs from having sat in the same position for so long. 

“Technically,” she drew out the word. He raised a brow at her. 

“Craving something?” 

“So much junk food. Any and all kinds you can get.” 

“On it,” he answered, getting his phone out and placing an order. When the food arrived y/n had been very cautious at first, afraid that her boyfriend would think she was eating too much. Rafayel thought quite the opposite, believing that she was holding herself back and should eat more. So he brought it upon himself to ensure that she would eat what she wanted, offering her more and more and making sure to eat just as much or even more as her. The food was comforting, but so was the time, just getting to sit and eat with Rafayel as they chatted. When they finished up, Rafayel insisted that she stay the night. He was unaware that she was hardly sleeping because of her anxiety, but y/n wondered if that wasn’t the case. Why else would he suggest she sleep there with him to get a good rest? He had to know she hadn’t been sleeping well. Rafayel had also insisted that she wear his favorite pair of comfort sweats and shirt, saying there was no possible way to feel anxious wearing them. Of course, she went along with it, the smile on Rafayel’s face irresistible. In his bed, Rafayel spooned his girlfriend from behind, engulfing her with his warmth and holding her more tightly than normal. The pressure and warmth was comforting and y/n felt more relaxed in his arms than she had all week. “Thank you for opening up to me. You can let me know when you’re feeling anxious and I’ll help any way I can. I’ll listen to you, paint with you, cook for you, sit in silence for you, give you a massage, cuddle you, kiss you, fuck you, anything really as long as it’ll help,” he told her. She laughed softly as he had brushed over the last suggestion, saying it quickly. 

“Thank you. I’ll try to be even more honest. Today really helped though,” she said through a yawn. “I feel a lot more relaxed.” 

“Good. Now get some rest,” Rafayel instructed, placing a kiss to the back of her head as she fell asleep in his arms. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Sylus 

“You’ve been sitting there staring at the wall for over half an hour now, is everything okay, sweetie?” Sylus asked his girlfriend. She had indeed been sitting on the couch in his office, saying nothing and not moving for half an hour. 

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning to him. His brows furrowed in concern and he stood from the chair at his desk, walking over to her. 

“You seem more distant,” he pushed. She nodded, saying nothing. Sylus sat next to her and placed his hand on her thigh, the feeling grounding her. “Is this about what happened the other night?” She nodded and he nodded back, understanding. Ever since that night she had been feeling more anxious and distant. Worried that at any moment, she would be back in that situation. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t,” she immediately answered. “I don’t want to remember it, I want to forget it.” 

“I understand that, really. But this isn’t healthy. If you don’t want to talk to me, I won’t push it, but I do think you should talk to someone about it,” Sylus admitted. She closed her eyes, biting her lip as her hand moved to scratch her thigh. Sylus’s hand blocked her movement, as he had noticed it was a habit she began to pick up when feeling this way. 

“I’m scared and I don’t know what to do about it. I always figure shit out on my own, so why is this affecting me so much?” she said. 

“Because it’s a lot. Even the strongest person in the world has to lean on people sometimes. We’re meant to lean on each other. You’re so unbelievably strong, but it’s okay to lean on me when you need to,” he comforted her, squeezing her thigh softly. She nodded, unsure what to even say. “How about I finish up work early and we can go wash up? Then we should eat and we can read a book?” he suggested. 

“That sounds nice,” she agreed. Sylus stood up and reached for her hand. She took it and he guided her to the bathroom where he slowly helped her undress, making sure that she was still completely comfortable. He made sure the water was extra hot for her, even though he thought she was insane for preferring the water to be almost boiling hot. He watched as she stepped into the shower and visibly relaxed more, the tremors in her hands stilling slightly. He got in behind her, hugging her from behind and saying nothing. It was more comforting than y/n had thought it would be. Despite what had happened, she felt okay in Sylus’s arms. They stayed like this for much too long, Sylus moving to help wash up. When they were done, he pulled out the new robes he had gotten. A new design from a luxury brand that promised ultra comfort in their robes. He ordered it as well as a few other things since that night. She had been staying with him and he watched as her anxieties had grown. She had barely slept, and he was determined to change that. When she was more well rested, she could process more and hopefully agree to talking to someone. 

After eating, they headed to Sylus’s bedroom. He put on one of his records before choosing a book and sitting on his bed, back against the headboard. Y/n stood by his bookshelf, not really wanting to start a new read. She wasn’t sure she could focus enough to read. Her fingers brushed across the spines of the books, her body saying to pick one but her brain unable to say anything but “watch out” or “run”. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Sylus called to her, inviting her to sit after seeing her internal conflict. She took his invitation, sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. Sylus held the book in front of them, arms caging his girlfriend. He read the pages silently before asking if y/n was ready to turn the page. When she didn’t respond, he decided to take matters into his own hands, starting over and reading the pages aloud. He kept his voice soft, hoping to lull her to sleep. His story choice wasn’t random either- he made sure to choose a book that had a message of comfort behind it. He hoped she would get the message- that she was safe here with him through the book. 

At first, y/n could barely get what was happening in the story, unable to focus still. So instead, she focused on her boyfriend. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed against her back. The slight rumble she could feel as he spoke. His arms wrapped around her, but not suffocating as he held the book in front of them. The warmth from being so close. The sound of the record playing softly in the background- words of comfort being sung- mixed with the sound of Sylus’s voice, deep and comforting. She focused on these things first, allowing herself to feel safe. When she was able to focus on the story more, she realized everything about this was meticulously planned. Sylus had chosen a vinyl that had a soothing melody with words of comfort on purpose. He had chosen this book to give her a message- that she was safe with him. She had never felt so seen and cared for in her life, tears being brought to her eyes. When she sniffled, her boyfriend noticed immediately and stopped reading. “Are you alright?” he softly asked. 

“Yes. Thank you Sylus. For all of this,” she answered. 

“Of course, sweetie. I want you to not only know that you’re safe with me, but also that you feel safe with me. I’d do anything to protect you. If I could fight this anxiety away from you, I would in a heartbeat.” 

“I know you would,” she chuckled. “Keep reading.” Sylus did as she requested, continuing to read the book. Around ten minutes later, Sylus felt y/n’s body relax fully into his. He peeked down to see she had fallen asleep on him. He smiled softly, having nothing but love for the woman in front of him. He wished he could protect her from everything- the world, the bad feelings, the hard problems she was sure to face. If he could, he would take it all for her, leaving her with nothing but happiness, safety, and peace. But for now, he would continue to read to her as she slept in his arms, ensuring she’d feel safe even in her dreams. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Zayne 

Zayne could tell his girlfriend was anxious. Having known her even before they began a relationship, it was easy to spot. She hadn’t even noticed how she was feeling quite yet, but he saw the signs. It was why he had suggested going on a walk at a park. Zayne had scoped out all the parks nearby, finding which ones were the least crowded, but also the most scenic- the perfect place to walk if you’re anxious. Y/n had agreed, getting into his car and ready to walk. She had been stressed lately about work, things piling up. And on top of that there was a lot of drama in the office. So she was happy to spend time with Zayne. 

They walked through the park relatively slow, taking their time to take everything in. Their hands, stuck together, swung beside them. Though they didn’t speak much, Zayne kept a close eye on his girlfriend. At the beginning, she seemed more neutral. Stressed. Trying to hide it of course, but he could tell. Now she had a soft smile on her face, a genuine one. He guided her to a small pond at the park and her face lit up. “Look over there!” she exclaimed, letting go of his hand to jog over to the pond. He smiled and caught up to her. “Aww, they’re so cute! The little babies are even following,” she cooed. In the pond, there was a duck swimming, her small ducklings following close behind. She squatted down at the water to get a closer look at their cuteness, Zayne following. Upon hearing a crushing sound, she turned to her boyfriend, who was pulling out a bag of frozen peas from his coat. She laughed. “Where were you hiding those?” she asked. 

“That’s a secret,” he smiled at her, opening the bag and handing it to her. The ducks had also heard the noise and began to swim over to the couple. Y/n’s excitement grew the closer they got, sticking her hand in the bag and offering some peas to the ducks. They swam quicker, diving into the water to eat. The couple watched as they fed the ducks peas, laughing whenever a duckling would flop around, still unsure how to work its new body. Eventually, the ducks swam off, leaving the couple behind as they stood and watched. Y/n stood and took Zayne’s hand in hers, sighing. “It would be nice to be a duck sometimes,” she admitted.

“It would,” he agreed. 

“Just swim around all day eating peas people throw at you. They don’t have to worry about work. Maybe they still have to deal with drama. I don’t think I’d like a duck taking away my duck boyfriend,” she smiled. 

“If we were ducks I’d be just as dedicated to you. No other duck would sway me,” he mused. 

“How romantic,” she chuckled. “You knew how I was feeling, didn’t you? That’s why you brought me here.” 

“I did. I could tell you were stressed and likely anxious. If you weren’t anxious already, I knew you would be. Figured the fresh air and ducks could help.” 

“They did. But something else helped even more,” her eyes glimmered. 

“What’s that?” Zayne asked, wanting to know so he could help more next time as well .

“Getting to walk around with my handsome doctor boyfriend,” she smiled, making him chuckle. “I’m serious!” she insisted. “You always know how to make me feel better. Just being with you makes me feel better, we could have been at the stinkiest place right now and I’d feel better.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he teased. 

“Okay, maybe not if it was stinky and gross. But you get the point,” she sighed. 

“I do,” he agreed. They began to walk again, this time back towards Zayne’s car, hand in hand. Y/n swung their hands happily, smiling more now and feeling lighter, ready to go home and end the night in his arms. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Xavier 

When Xavier woke up from his nap, he walked into the living room mto find his girlfriend on the floor in front of the coffee table, her head resting on the laptop in front of her. At first, he thought she was asleep, then she let out a groan of frustration. “Everything okay?” he asked carefully, grabbing himself a glass of water. 

“No,” she answered, exploding. “There’s too much to do and I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how I’m going to do any of this. And all week long my coworkers have been staring at me, like daggers into the back of my skull and I don’t know what I ever did to them. Because of that I can’t focus at the office and when I’m here I’m either thinking about that or about how much shit there is to do that I can’t get done.” Xavier set his glass down gently and walked over to the living room, sitting on the couch behind her and looking over her shoulder at her laptop. 

“Want me to help?” he offered. 

“I would, but that’s technically illegal,” she sighed, looking up at him with a pout. 

“Then how about a break?” 

“I don’t have time for a break, Xavie,” she warned. 

“If it’s all making you this anxious, it won’t matter,” he argued. She sighed, knowing he was right, but not knowing what to do to calm her racing mind. “Would talking about it help?” he asked. 

“I don’t know? It’s like what I said. I don’t know what I did to them, but they just keep glaring at me. And I know I’m not imagining it before you ask that. I’ve tried thinking about everything. I don’t think I said anything rude or offensive, I haven’t thrown more work onto anyone, and I don’t think it was anything about me physically. I don’t know what I’ve done,” she shrugged. Xavier’s hands made their way to her shoulders, massaging them gently. 

“It could be nothing. Maybe they just felt like being dicks,” he thought aloud. “Have you asked Tara about it? She’s chill from what I’ve heard from you.” 

“I haven’t. She wasn’t at the office today, but she would know. That’s a good idea, thank you.” 

“Of course. Now about this work you got, any way of making a plan so you don’t feel so overwhelmed and anxious? What all do you have to do?” he asked. She went through all of the tasks she had to do and when they needed to be done with him. Xavier was weirdly good at organizing and breaking things down, so he took all the information she gave him and did just that. He broke down all of the things she needed to get done into smaller tasks and then organized them day by day, making a to-do list for her. It left her with just two more small tasks to do that day. “Thank you, Xavie. That helped a lot,” she thanked him, resting her head on his shoulder as he had moved to sit next to her. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Now I’m not rushing you, but get these done so we can go get some hotpot. I’m hungry.” 

“Yes sir,” she saluted him, getting to work. Before that, she sent a quick text to Tara, asking if she knew what was up. She didn’t get an answer until they were deep into their meal. Y/n suddenly began laughing, Xavier looking at her confused. They had just been eating. Was there something on his face? “Tara answered,” she told him. 

“Oh? What did she say?” he asked. Y/n sighed. 

“It’s dumb, are you ready for this?” she warned. He nodded. “Remember Monday when I forgot my lunch and you came and brought it to me?” He nodded again, confused as to what this had to do with anything. “Apparently, one of my coworkers thought you were cute…so they stopped you in the hall?” His face dropped. 

“I didn’t do anything. She just flirted and asked for my number, but I told her I was happily with you,” he informed her. She nodded. 

“I believe you fully. She must have been pretty offended though. She started a dumb rumor about me being a whore and cheating on you, which I’m not by the way. She starts drama all the time, Tara said she’ll take care of it,” She told him. 

“Ah, well, that’s good? Still not cool of her to cause so many problems,” he muttered, putting another piece of meat in his mouth. Y/n nodded in agreement and the two finished their meal, her anxieties being lessened knowing Tara would stay true to her word. It wasn’t the first time a nasty rumor had gone around and Tara easily smashed it in its place. When they finished, they returned home and washed up, Xavier yawning and barely making it to bed. His girlfriend got in next to him, facing him. “Thank you again for everything today. I feel a lot better now,” she told him. 

“Of course. I don’t like seeing you stressed and anxious. I’d do anything to help,” he told her, yawning again. She laughed at him. 

“Even though I was on an emotional rollercoaster today, you still seem tired.” 

“I’m always tired. Only time I’m not is when I get to spend the day with you.” 

“I was home today though, so doesn’t that mean you shouldn’t be tired?” 

“I wasn’t home all day, so I am tired. Tomorrow though, is our day off, so I’ll be wide awake,” he smiled, eyes already closing. 

“Whatever you say, sleepy. Goodnight,” she pressed a kiss to his nose, making him scrunch it up a bit. 

“Sweet dreams, starlight.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Caleb 

All it took was a single text for Caleb to visit his girlfriend. Having grown up together, he was easily able to detect when something was wrong, and her replying with just a thumbs up, was wrong. She was surprised when he showed up at her door. “Caleb? What are you doing here? Don’t you have a flight?” she asked. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“That’s what I’m asking you, yes,” she blinked. 

“I’m fine, but you’re not. What’s going on? Vibes are off too,” he raised his brow. Y/n sighed, moving aside to let him in. They sat on the couch, Caleb looking at her expectantly. Their relationship had been complicated. When they were growing up, they were as close as close can be, relying on each other and having no secrets. Then, Caleb had essentially disappeared, harming the relationship. At first when he returned, she had mixed feelings. Anger, relief, frustration. But eventually, it worked out, the two getting into a relationship. Despite how they were before, his disappearance had changed their dynamic, and going to Caleb for everything was harder than before. Y/n tried to keep more secrets, not big ones of course. Just ones like this one, not telling him how anxious she felt and that she had a panic attack the night before, causing her to call in for a sick day. “I don’t know where to start,” she told him. 

“How about why you’re not at work? What happened?” he asked, growing more concerned. “Do I need to beat someone up? Give you a million dollars?” 

“No, none of that,” she smiled, then sighed. “I had a panic attack yesterday so I called in to work. Still kinda anxious today.” 

“Oh,” he slowly said, processing. She used to always come to him when she was panicking, but this time she hadn’t. Of course, he knew things were different now, but it still sat uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t even know she still struggled with them. Would what he used to do comfort her? He didn’t know what to do. When they were kids, she would just talk to him about it all. Did she no longer want to do that? Did she not trust him? 

“Stop overthinking over there, we don’t need both of us anxious,” she half teased. “I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing now. I can handle them myself, this one was just a bit much and I was exhausted. I’m feeling better today.” 

“Can I ask what caused it?” 

“You can. It started at work, a supervisor had some words to say to me. It was maybe a bit out of line, but obviously for most people they wouldn’t have been sent into a panic attack. It thankfully was at the end of the day so I just held it together until I got home. I already emailed and took care of it all, so no need to go hunt them down,” she explained. 

“I’m sorry that happened. And I suppose I won’t hunt them down, just because you said not to,” he smiled. “Well, since we have the day off, is there anything I can do to help?” 

“I mean, I was just going to nap the day away, eat junk, and chill,” she trailed off. 

“But?” he finished, urging her. 

“There is one thing that would be super fun.” 

“You gonna make me guess Pipsqueak?” he asked, exhausted. She grinned. 

“Take me on a flight?” 

Caleb had agreed and the two headed to the nearby private airport. He had gotten his pilot license and flew people around mostly privately, but he also had bought a small, old airplane, big enough for just the two of them. When they arrived, he got his gear on, letting the staff know they’d be in the air, and then got y/n her gear. She didn’t need much, as she wasn’t flying the plane, but he made sure to give her a helmet so they could talk. Y/n watched as he did all of the standard checks, ensuring everything was good and they were safe to fly. When he finished, he helped her into the plane, offering a hand. Soon enough, they were in the air. Y/n watched as they went through the clouds, looking down below at the world. It seemed so small from up there, like nothing really mattered on it. It was just a small rock floating through space. She yelled in half fear- half excitement when Caleb decided to make the flight more interesting, twisting and turning the plane. It was freeing to be up in the air, adrenaline rushing through their bodies as their worries were left on the ground. For Caleb, it was the best thing in the world to hear his girlfriend's screams and laughs in excitement. 

After landing, the two went back to her place. There they did as y/n had suggested earlier. They ate junk, though Caleb was sure to force in a few nutritious things, then watched a show. The two were cuddled up on the couch, face masks on while they munched on popcorn and watched the show they loved when they were kids. It was comfortable. Y/n had fallen asleep first, unable to stay awake after everything that happened since the day before. Caleb had taken her into his arms and carried her to bed, getting in beside her. He smiled softly as he looked at her, happy he was able to make her feel at least a bit better. In the morning, he would make sure that she was better, and if she wasn’t, he’d do anything she wanted to help her feel better.

[0310s]

perv!leehan who can’t stop staring at his gf’s boobs 😵‍💫 i feel like he would start bouncing his leg just to try and focus and avoid getting a hard on

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: smut, but intimacy also i promise!!!!

tags: dry humping, breast/nipple play

wc: 2.0k

a/n: anon just know i decided to pull an all-nighter to write this because i couldn't get it out of my head... thank you for this amazing idea.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

During the start of your relationship when you’re still not intimate, Leehan decides to go at your pace; whatever you’re comfortable with dictates how everything else will go. Still, perv!Leehan is easily turned on by you—specifically, your boobs.

Leehan legitimately can’t stop staring at them and it’s becoming a problem, because you never wear a bra around him when he visits you in your apartment! The first time he comes over, he notices something is different about you—then he notices the natural curves of your breasts and wonders about how it would feel like to cup them in his palms. When it’s cold and your nipples poke out from your shirt, Leehan’s mind goes haywire and he can’t stop thinking about taking them into his lips. When you’re cuddled up with Leehan innocently on your bed, Leehan can feel how soft your chest is pressed up against his and has to awkwardly turn his body to the side so you don’t feel his growing hard-on. 

One time, when you’re wearing a loose, oversized shirt and lean over him to get something across him, he accidentally gets a peek of your bare chest. It’s only a second, but the flash of round flesh and nipple he sees is imprinted into his mind. He’s incredibly turned on yet immensely guilty. He has nothing to cover his crotch, so he ends up bouncing his leg so hard to will his hard-on away that you have to ask him if he’s alright. He says he is. You won’t know he’ll end up jerking off every night to thoughts of that memory, whether that be by furiously fucking his fist or humping his pillow. 

Another time you accidentally brush up against his arm and you squeak, and Leehan is immediately concerned, asking you what’s wrong. Upon more prodding on his end you shyly confess your nipples are sensitive, which sends Leehan down a deeper rabbithole of fantasies about teasing and pinching and and sucking and pulling at your nipples until you’re crying. But the last thing Leehan wants is for you to not feel comfortable and safe in your own body around him, so he gently says it’s alright and that he’ll be more careful next time, not dwelling too much on the topic so you aren’t put on the spot.

Still, you eventually notice Leehan’s staring as it grows more and more frequent and blatant (even if he thinks he’s being subtle about it). So one day in your apartment, when you spot him gazing at your clothed chest with an unreadable expression, you cover your chest with your hands in self-consciousness. Leehan shamefully realizes he’s been caught, so he rushes to beg for your forgiveness with red cheeks—but his heart breaks when you apologize first. “Is there something wrong with my … chest?” you ask, turning away to hide your chest. “You keep staring at them that I’m worried you think they look… weird. I know they’re not perfect or anything… I’m sorry.” And when he hears a sniffle come from you, he feels like the worst boyfriend to exist. 

“No, no, love, I’m sorry, I promise it’s not that,” Leehan pleads. Still, you don’t look back. You’re hunched over, rubbing at your eyes while the sniffles continue.  “Please… Can you look at me?” You slowly shake your head. Leehan, not wanting the misunderstanding to hurt you even more, takes ahold of your shoulders and gently turns you to face him. “I’m sorry my staring made you uncomfortable, but what you said is so far from the truth. To be honest…” When you look up at him with teary eyes, Leehan knows he has to tell you the truth, even if it’ll mortify him, so he tells you how much your boobs turn him on that he can’t stop looking. His face grows even redder in the wake of his confession and your silence. He’s ready to apologize again and give you space when you let out an “Oh! Oh. Ohhh….” And you end up being extremely shy around each other for the rest of the day. 

The first time you let Leehan touch your chest is in the heat of you making out. You’re in Leehan’s lap on your couch and he’s kissing you so sensually you’re becoming lightheaded with pleasure. He’s got one strong arm around your waist, and the other cups your cheek. When he lets go of your face, his hand accidentally brushes against your chest. Leehan’s quick to say sorry and is about to move his hand away, but you clutch his hand in time. You shyly ask him if he wants to touch—while Leehan is so turned on by the thought, he asks you multiple times if it’s something you want and if you’re sure about taking this next step. You admit that ever since the day Leehan told you the truth, you’ve been thinking about it. Extensively. 

You lead his hand to touch you; he cups at one clothed breast experimentally, feeling the weight and shape in his hand. You sigh and lean into his touch, and it gives him more courage to explore. He squeezes your chest and you moan, he slowly circles a nipple with a fingernail and you whimper, involuntarily pressing your pussy down on his dick. Leehan can’t believe he’s really touching your boobs, something he’s fantasized about for months on end. As he fondles you, you both desperately grind against each other, and when Leehan firmly sucks at your nipple through your shirt, you gasp in pleasure at how warm his tongue feels against you, even with a layer of cloth obstructing him from your bare skin. The contact is intense and overwhelming to you and you orgasm, Leehan following not long after.

After several repeats of clothed stimulation across weeks, you grow to become more comfortable in your own body. Soon enough, you find the courage to take your top off in the middle of a makeout session with your boyfriend. When you’re free of your shirt, your first instinct is to cover yourself, but you’re unable to when you catch Leehan’s honest reaction. Your tits are face-to-face with Leehan as you kneel on the couch, your thighs on the sides of his own. Your boyfriend’s staring at you with his mouth agape. Your eyes follow his pretty throat bobbing up and down as his stare trails down to your bare chest. Leehan’s silent for a moment as he takes in your soft flesh, memorizing your lovely curves, but eventually breaks the silence by letting out a deep exhale. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “so pretty for me.” 

Your cheeks heat up at his sweet but erotic words, then embarrassment hits you as you register the implications of taking off your shirt so abruptly. You’re about to retreat into your shell of shyness and insecurity, but Leehan holds your wrists firmly, still loose enough so you can break out of his grip if you wished to. “Let me look at you properly, okay?” Leehan glances up at you, waiting for your answer.

You nod once. At your signal, Leehan trails a finger down the side of one breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Gorgeous,” he sighs dreamily, “How could you think I wouldn’t find you perfect as you are?” Your boyfriend’s words serve to bolster your confidence as you lean into his touch. Leehan smiles at this, cupping both breasts with his palms, giving you a light squeeze and eyeing your reaction. You melt into his hold. 

“More?” You nod again, and he acquiesces. Leehan lightly brushes his pointer finger over a nipple and you gasp at the direct contact. He traces a circle around your slowly stiffening peak, doing the same to its pair and humming in satisfaction when they’re both hard. “Tell me if this is too much, okay?” Monitoring your reaction, he takes one pebbled nipple between his fingers, rolling it gently, then administering the same treatment to the other. They’re indeed sensitive. You let out a high-pitched moan and clap a hand over your mouth in mortification, but Leehan pushes your hand back down. “Don’t hold back… I want to hear your moans when I take care of you like this. Don’t be ashamed—you sound pretty.” 

Leehan then uses both hands to tug at your nipples, and you unabashedly whine at the pressure, clutching at his shoulders for support. You squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction—you can feel how wet you already are, your underwear uncomfortably clinging to your folds. At this, Leehan grinds his crotch up into you to remind you he’s perfectly available for your pleasure. You stop kneeling up and drop your hips to grind into Leehan’s cock, and you both moan at the contact. To your surprise, he’s rock-hard… all he’s been doing is touching your chest and he’s already this…?

You must have said that out loud, because Leehan lets out a tiny huff of disbelief. “What do you mean? This is everything I’ve been dreaming about for months, of course I’m turned on.” (The thought that you occupy your boyfriend’s fantasies makes you feel faint.) He gives your nipples another firm twist, and a helpless keen comes out of your mouth. Leehan lets go and observes his work proudly—your nipples are hard and reddened. Still, it’s not enough for you, and you grind your pussy down harder so your boyfriend gets the message. “Can I…?” You thrust your chest into Leehan’s face. “Okay, okay, I get it.” 

Almost instantly, Leehan takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly. When you tangle a hand in his hair and angle his head closer, he increases the pressure ever so slightly. The firm suction on your nipple feels heavenly, paired with how he lightly teases at your other one with a thumb, while the rest of his hand cradles your ribs. Leehan draws a sob from you as he tongues at your peak, circling it lazily. Looking straight into your eyes, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your puffy nipple, blowing air on it, and you squeal at the sensation. To relieve some of the frustration, you roll your hips insistently against Leehan’s, earning a muffled groan from him and sending a vibration of pleasure through you. He must feel your wetness through your shorts, because the hand on your side tightens minutely and presses you down onto his lap. 

When your grip on his hair increases, Leehan turns to your unattended nipple, giving it the same attention as he laves over it sensually. At this point, both of you are rocking frantically against each other, searching for release. The friction is driving you crazy. You greedily wish you had Leehan’s cock deep inside you—you can already imagine the stretch with how long and thick it is from your ceaseless grinding. And when Leehan’s teeth slightly graze your nipple, you let out a loud cry, your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing over you as you grind down once more. Then Leehan freezes, letting out a ragged moan as his hips jerk up harshly once, twice, until he relaxes.

It takes you a minute or two to recover your breath when you realize Leehan probably hasn’t come yet. “Do you need help with—?” When Leehan shakes his head no, you look at him questioningly. Weren’t you on the same page with all this? 

Still, Leehan’s response is one you didn’t expect. “Um, I already came,” he says sheepishly. When you tilt your head down, you’re greeted with a sizeable mess at the front of his pants. “Didn’t take much for it to happen… this was too hot.”

“Well. It was. Is. Hot,” you admit, your chest heaving from exertion. “Um. You’re hot.” Could you be any less awkward?

“Oh! You too,” Leehan giggles, sending you one of his signature crescent-eye smiles. Your eyes follow his as they trail down from your face to your chest, which makes you realize you’re still—ashamedly—topless. 

“Oh my god!” You rush to shield your chest from view, but Leehan beats you to it, nuzzling his face into the valley of your breasts and inhaling deeply. “Don’t do that, I’m all sweaty…”

“Smells good. Smells like you,” Leehan’s reply is muffled by your chest. He leaves a soft kiss on your sternum and your heart flutters at this display of affection. “You have nothing to be worried about.” You know he means more than just the sex, and for this, you’re infinitely grateful. 

[chrisevansonly]

Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Secret relationship and they find out you're being transferred to a different team.

Anon...how DARE you. But really, the angst that this prompt is giving is everything. I want to warn readers now that I was not nice with this one. There is a lot of angst happening here. There is nothing spicy about it. It's all pain with a little comfort sprinkled in for a few of our boys. (Sorry not sorry)

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: angst, mild emotional hurt/comfort, secret relationships, yearning, heartbreak, 141!reader

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“We’ve got two weeks!”

“Soap.”

“Can you believe that?”

“Johnny.”

Soap’s smile remains but melts slightly. “What?”

“I’m leaving.”

He chuckles. “We both are.”

You shake your head. “No. I’m leaving the team.”

Soap frowns slightly. “Retirement?” He shrugs. “Seem a bit young.” That smile returns and he saunters forward, his large hands grasping your hips. “Means we can go public.”

He leans in for a kiss, but your heart isn’t in it. Soap realizes the reluctance the moment your lips meet. “It’s something else,” he says.

You nod because that is all you can manage. Originally, Captain Price said he wanted to tell the team together, but he doesn’t know about you and Johnny. Soap needs to know first before the rest. If not, it’ll come as a blow and a betrayal. You can’t do that to him no matter what Captain Price says.

“I’m being transferred,” you murmur, voice breaking slightly.

Soap does not retreat. He rests his forehead against your own, eyes closing as he inhales. His arms slide from your hips to your back, drawing you against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says rubbing your back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle enters the meeting room. It’s the last one before everyone breaks for a month.

But there is someone missing.

Laswell and Captain Price talk quietly, their heads bent in conversation. Soap is showing something to Ghost on his phone.

You are not among them. You are not in your usual spot.

Laswell glances up and Price clears his throat. “We can start.”

“Hold up, Captain. We’re missing one.”

Kyle gestures toward the chair you usually sit in and Price frowns.

“Transferred on another mission,” interrupts Laswell.

Kyle says nothing, sinking into his chair. He listens but most of it slips right out of his head. The only thing he can think about is that you’re not here and you didn’t say anything.

When Laswell and Price are finished, and everyone begins to exit, Kyle lingers, intent on talking to Price.

“Not gonna talk about our missing team member?”

“Nothing to say,” shrugs Price. “Transferred this morning.”

Kyle swallows down the emotion rising in his throat. No one knows about the two of you, and if he pushes too much, he might reveal something he shouldn’t.

“Coming back?” asks Kyle.

“Eventually,” answers Price. “Not sure when.”

Eventually. There’s hope then.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re leaving.”

“Simon.”

“Did you plan on telling me?” You remain silent and Simon shakes his head. “Waiting for Price to do it?”

“That’s not true.”

Simon takes a step forward, entering your space. “I saw the transfer on his desk. I saw the date. How long have you known?”

“Does that matter?” you ask.

“Of course it does,” he snaps.

Simon is never angry, not with you. His anger is subtle which makes it more terrifying. This is something else. Simon is hurt, and you’re the cause of it.

“I’m sorry you found out like this. I planned on telling you.”

“When?” He’s closer now, towering over you.

“When I had more information.”

“More information?”

“I don’t know where I’m going or with who,” you add.

“Might not tell you until you get there. Happens all the time.”

You understand his meaning and know that Simon is right. Would you have left without telling him anything, only saying something once you’d left?

No. This thing between you might be tangled but he is the only one you want.

“Are you upset?” you ask.

Simon deflates. “Not with you.” He tugs you against him, creating a cocoon of warmth. “Never.”

John Price

The transfer papers mockingly stare at Price.

All this time, he believed he could have you without repercussion. Didn’t matter that you were another member of the team and his subordinate. You were his, and Price could protect you.

But these papers came from someone above him, and he cannot refuse them. No matter how much he wants to.

And no one knows what the two of you do when there isn’t anyone looking. But now, that’s shattered. Broken. And Price must grieve for your departure in silence. Price has already raged. He punched the wall until his knuckles bled.

After that, he walked until he came to terms with it.

You don’t know yet. You have no idea. Telling you will be the hardest part. What will happen? How will the two of you move forward? Can the secrets remain, or will it all need to be out in the open?

Price sighs and runs his hands over his face.

This is a punishment. Must be. Why else is it happening?

There is a loud knock at the door. Again, Price sighs, knowing that he has to face the reality of the situation.

You are on the other side.

[earlysunshines]

clay hearts

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you've been working on a bunch of pottery for two hours, danielle thinks you need a break.

warnings: none just lots of kissing maybe ;ceramicist!reader ; they're disgustingly in love ; soooo in love ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: guys i am so delusional and in love with danielle marsh that whole pottery ep actually killed me she's so cute i need to be restrained.

in the little corner of your apartment, right next to the window that lets the sun shine on your features, you’re throwing another glob of clay only your wheel. it’s been fifteen minutes since you started, and you’ve successfully made one cup. one. 

you huff, ready to work on at least two more cups before you move onto some bigger pieces. 

before you can start on the next, you hear the door creaking open. you turn your head and see your girlfriend closing the door behind her. you smile immediately. 

“danielle,” you greet softly, fondly. “i missed you.”

her eyes light up when she sees you sitting by the pottery wheel. her footsteps are soft as she walks towards you, smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, brushing a bit of clay from oyur eyebrow. “missed you more.”

“no way.”

“yes way.” she giggles. “i’ll let you get back to work, i have some of my own to tackle.”

you hum in response, leaving her to whatever is on her to-do list. 

—

hours slip by in quiet focus. you lose yourself in shaping the clay, unaware of just how much time has passed by as you made three cups, a plate, and a small vase. there’s the occasional groan or curse that slips from your lips as you tackle the stubborn pieces that refuse to cooperate. 

about an hour in, danielle had settled herself at the small beanbag near the coffee table, quietly working on her assignments with her laptop perched on her lap. she’s close enough to be company but far enough to let you work. 

you glimpse at danielle here and there in between each piece, happy to have her close to you. and she’s doing the same, stealing glances at you every few minutes, watching the way your brows furrow as you concentrate, the way your fingers shift to smooth and shape the clay. you’re lost in your own world. 

you look completely at ease, even in frustration, and something about it all — about you, your apron, and skin covered in flecks of clay — makes her heart skip. danielle can’t help but sneak a picture, you’re just so adorable in her eyes.

eventually, danielle can’t hold back. thirty-minutes later she closes her laptop softly and shifts in her seat, watching you for a few moments longer, letting the sound of your jazz playlist fill the silence. her chin is on her palm and she grins, calling out, “how about a break?”

“not yet,” you mumble, “almost done.” your eyes don’t leave the wheel, you’re not finished throwing the piece at hand — a strawberry vase that someone paid extra for; extra as in enough to take you and your girlfriend out for dinner at the end of the week — though your lips quirk into a small, appreciative smile.

she laughs softly, folding her arms as she sits back in the beanbag chair. “you’ve been making those weird noises you make when you’re frustrated for the past two hours, you know. i think you deserve one.”

finally breaking your focus, you glance over at her. her eyes are warm and soft and she’s smiling at you like she’s been waiting just to catch your attention. she looks especially alluring in your t-shirt, which fits loosely over her, and with her hair down messily. 

the vase isn’t quite finished, this is your second attempt at shaping it after all. you still have a few days before you can get it done, but you’d rather finish a complex piece like this now than later. spending a few minutes with your beloved girlfriend sounds lovely, but finishing a stubborn, pricey piece like this might have to come first. it’s for both of your sakes anyway, and it’ll only take maybe fifteen more minutes or so.

“dani,” you sigh, looking up at her with a pout, “can i finish this one first?”

she frowns at you, sighing before leaning against the cushion and admiring you again. “fine, fine.”

you give her an apologetic smile before returning to the piece. 

on your third attempt at constructing the strawberry vase, you accidentally make a dent. it had been going so well too, the sides all even and the structure perfect, but you just had to apply too much pressure as you slid your fingers up. you stare down at the clay spinning around, the dent making it look unappealing as it does so.

frustrated and out of sheer annoyance, you smack your hand down on it, flattening the shape completely. danielle watches you groan, leaning back and closing your eyes as you try to shake off the irritation.

as you redirect your attention again, starting to shape the mess of clay on the wheel, a small shuffle catches your attention. you turn to see danielle pulling up a chair right behind you. you raise a brow at the way she leans in close, wrapping her arms around you from behind, her small hands gently covering yours on the wheel.

you’re taken aback, glancing over your shoulder. “what are you doing?”

she tilts her head, grinning cheekily. “helping you out, of course.” she says in a light tone, sending a shiver down your spine.

her fingers curl around yours, guiding your hands back to the clay as you start to reshape it together. her fingers get covered in clay, but she doesn’t seem to care—she’s focused on you, her face close, eyes warm, breath hot as it hits your skin.

“the last time you tried to throw a cup you made quite the mess,” you chuckle, feeling her press closer with her chin resting on your shoulder. “you know this is just gonna make a mess, right?”

“maybe,” she whispers, a playful hint in her tone. and then, out of nowhere, she takes the opportunity of your head being angled towards her to press a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

your heart races, and you turn to her fully, a surprised smile spreading across your face. “is this your way of helping?”

“mhm,” she teases, giving your hands a final nudge before wiping her own on your apron. then, before you can react, her hands slip beneath the apron, resting gently on your ribs over the thin fabric of your tank top. her thumbs trace small circles there, rendering you a flustered mess as every thought of clay dissipates in your mind.

you feel her lips press a soft kiss to your shoulder, then another one to your neck, lingering just enough to send yet another shiver through you; your breath hitches.

turning to face her, your noses almost brush, and she’s giving you that look. the look that she always gives you when she’s amount to leave you breathless and flushed. she leans in again, catching your lips in another kiss, this one softer, warmer. 

your hands, still covered in clay, reach up to rest on her arms, pulling her just a bit closer as her fingers trace lazy patterns over your ribs. it’s a scene straight from a movie: the two of you sharing teasing, lingering kisses, playful and unhurried, each one leaving you feeling lighter than the last.

finally, she pulls back, to which you respond by chasing after, lips brushing against another. she’s smirking at you, her hand moving up to cup your face and brush some clay off.

“feeling better?” she asks as her thumb moves over to rest on the corner of your lip.

“much,” 

“right,” she starts, sliding her hand down to the base of your neck. “i think you should wrap up for the day and pay attention to your lovely girlfriend. how does that sound?”

with the time you spent with your eyes glued to the clay, you never realized the sun setting beside you. the dimmed rays shine on her face perfectly, accentuating each curve of every feature. danielle’s gaze is soft, her touch even softer as she slides her hands over your skin. you swallow shallowly, losing yourself at the sight of her—how could you say no when she looks at you like that?

“i think that sounds lovely.” you mutter, grinning as you lean in for one last kiss.

[ennyshifts]

the idea that belief is the key to a successful shift is nothing more than an assumption. a useless limitation someone made up. yes, straight to the point. how do I know this though? because I’ve gotten my desires while holding on to hope with barely any belief that it would work. the only thing I did was persist, no matter what I felt about it.

if you have trouble believing you’ll actually shift, that is not the end of the world. in my opinion, the only thing that actually matters is your desire and decision to shift. like. that’s it. allow yourself to hope, wish, even be desperate and still be successful in the end, because tell me why the simplest desire to shift wouldn’t be enough?

the reason you’re not shifting is not because you don’t believe in yourself. it’s because you believe you can’t shift if you lack belief. that mindset keeps you stuck, not your doubts. there’s a difference.

people treat belief like it’s some magical requirement, but that’s honestly so limiting. belief isn’t something you need to succeed. in fact, I’d argue that belief comes after you’ve done it a few times. just like anything else in life you once doubted, but did anyway. remember, you’re not waiting for belief to appear — belief grows through experience.

I’ve seen countless people say things along the lines of, “hope won’t get you anywhere.” or “you need to believe you already have it.” and it genuinely makes me frustrated. I get that it can be helpful for some, but to claim that belief is needed just sounds so wrong to me. everyone loves to throw around the word assumption, and this is a perfect example of one. it’s not a fact. it’s not a rule. it’s just someone’s assumption that belief is required for them to shift.

some of us have been here for years with little to no success, and I think I can speak for many of us when I say that it’s really not that easy to walk around full of belief and confidence every single day. and you know what? that’s okay. it’s okay to hope. it’s okay to want something without fully believing it’ll happen right at that moment. personally, I know I’ll shift eventually and that alone is enough for me!

the idea that you need belief is what complicates it, but shifting isn’t reserved for those with strong beliefs. shifting is for anyone who wants it, and if you want to shift, that’s enough!! I promise you, it really can be as simple as a single desire. you’re allowed to want it and let that be enough. end of story.

[loulou-land]

8x10 coda

bucktommy fix-it (sort of), emotional hurt/comfort, hopeful ending | cw: angst, dissociation, mild descriptions of a panic attack | 1.5k words

(Buck’s face at the end of that episode got me in the feels and I had to get these words out of me. Thank you @fuselsstuff for making me feel better about my writing and my endings 😘❤️)

As Buck watches Eddie drive away, something inside him crumbles, another piece lost to the wreckage that has come to be his life. He stands frozen in front of what used to be Eddie’s house—his house now, technically—but the words don't sit right. 

His house.

They feel foreign, misplaced. Like a title handed to someone else by mistake. He knows he chose it, knows the reason why he did it, yet what seemed like a good idea at first now feels like a crushing weight around his shoulders. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Staring at nothing. His head filled with static noise. All feeling draining out of him, until emptiness is all that surrounds him. Distantly he’s aware of his clothes progressively getting soaked as the gentle drizzle grows into a steady downpour. But he can’t seem to make himself move, staying rooted to the spot. 

Eventually, however, the cold seeps so deep into his bones that it forces him into movement. Buck turns, steps inside and shuts the door behind him. And is promptly at a loss. He feels like he took a wrong turn somewhere and forgot where home was. It’s a disconcerting feeling. 

Buck makes his way to the bathroom, peels his wet clothes off and steps into the shower, turning the heat up as high as it’ll go. It skalds his skin, but even then, he’s still cold. It’s like it’s burrowed deep inside and refuses to let go. He pulls on a hoodie, refusing to think about whose it is and why he picked that particular one. 

By the time he stumbles into bed, his limbs feel heavy, weighted down by something vast and shapeless. His mind is scarily blank. Whatever thoughts flicker into his mind are gone too fast to take hold of. Maddie almost died. Eddie’s gone. And, why won’t they listen to me? Why can’t they see I’m drowning? Everyone has something, someone. And what do I have? What am I left with? 

Nothing. It’s always nothing.

I am nothing. 

For once, the thought doesn’t hurt. It barely registers at all. It’s just a fact—objective and empty. He notes the detachment like he’s reading about someone else’s life. It should scare him, but he doesn’t feel much of anything right now. I don’t like this, Buck thinks distantly, I don’t like this at all. 

He sees his hands move as though from far away, outside his body. His fingers close around his phone. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to focus, to process the screen in front of him. He scrolls through his contacts, searching for Dr. Copeland. That’s who he meant to call. That was the hazy plan he’d formed in his head. 

But somehow, Tommy’s name is the one he presses. 

The phone rings. One. Two. Three times. 

The sound should make his heart pound with anxiety. Instead, he finds himself being soothed by the repetitive sound. His mind latches onto the rhythm, following it like a thread in the dark. The longer it rings, he starts to fill each pause with a thought. Of course. He won’t pick up. You don’t matter to anyone. He didn’t want you. 

And then—

“Evan?” 

A pause, a quiet breath. Then softer, “you okay?” 

It shatters something in Buck. The numbness that had settled in him disappears. The concern, the familiarity, the way Tommy has never been anything but honest with him—hearing it now, when everything else has started unraveling In him, it’s too much. 

His breath is knocked out of his chest. His throat closes up. He feels a tingling in his hands as his heart rate picks up. He wants to speak, to explain, to say something, but all that makes it out is a choked, heart-wrenching sob that feels like it’s been ripped right out of him. 

“Sweetheart,” Tommy says, instantly alert. “Evan. Talk to me. What’s wrong? Where are you?” 

Buck tries to breathe, tries to push the words out, but they’re trapped behind his lips. He can’t speak and that drags him deeper into desperation. He clutches his shirt, as though if he grips it tightly enough, he’ll be able to keep himself together and he’ll remember how to use his words again.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, and it’s humiliating, it’s embarrassing, it’s—

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way,” Tommy says, voice steady but urgent beneath it. Buck hears the sound of an engine turning on, the rush of movement on the other end. “Just breathe for me, baby.” 

“Eddie’s,” Buck finally manages to croak out. 

“What?” Tommy asks, slightly distracted. Buck hears car horns and the shift of gears. 

“I’m at Eddie’s.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The words come quick, sure, no hesitation. 

And Buck appreciates that Tommy doesn’t ask any more questions. He just keeps talking, filling the silence with warmth. You’re okay. I’m here. Breathe for me, sweetheart. Just like that. You’re doing good. You’re so good. Just hold on, I’m almost there.  

Buck clings to every word like a lifeline, tucks them inside himself. He tries to believe them. After all, Tommy doesn’t lie to him. 

His sobbing has slowed, but now something worse is creeping in—the weight of reality pressing back down. He called Tommy. He’s on the phone with him right now. He’s crying like a fucking baby. 

“I’m sorry.” Buck rasps, voice raw. “I—I shouldn’t have called you. Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“Evan.” Tommy says his name like it’s a prayer, like it’s something precious. Like it means more than Buck ever let himself believe. Like it means love. 

Buck inhales sharply, stomach twisting in knots. He’d missed that. God, he’d missed hearing his name spilling from Tommy’s mouth. 

Tommy’s voice softens. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s okay. Whatever it is…I’m here for you.” 

He can’t accept that. “No—no, I…you were probably busy.” Buck’s voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from anything important.” 

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tommy says, simple and reassuring. Then, quieter, “And, even if I was…I’d still come.” 

Buck should feel comforted. Instead, it makes something ugly rise in his chest. A sick, gnawing pit of self-hatred. Sharp and precise. 

Why does he always do this? Always need too much? He feels everything so loudly, and then drags people into the mess of him, makes them carry it when they shouldn’t have to. 

He lets out a dry, broken laugh. “There I go again,” he mutters, bitter. “Bucking it up. Making it all about me.”

Tommy exhales roughly through the line. And then, firm but gentle, “Evan. I don’t know what’s going on, but it's okay to feel things. And you’re more than allowed to be upset and want to talk about it. It’s okay to need people.”  

Buck closes his eyes. His whole body hurts. He wants to argue. He wants to tell Tommy he’s wrong. That everyone else thinks he’s too much. That Buck’s needs  are a burden. 

But before he can—

“I’m here. Can you open the door for me, sweetheart? 

Buck manages to drag himself out of bed and down the hall. His breath hitches once he reaches the front door, hands trembling slightly, his mind still caught between panic and exhaustion. 

He opens the door. 

And there’s Tommy. 

Standing on the other side, rain-damp and breathless. There’s concern written into every tense line of his body. His shoulders are squared, his jaw set, like he’s ready to take on every single one of Buck’s battles without hesitation. 

Buck swallows hard. “Tommy.” 

So much weight in a name, in a single word. 

Tommy doesn’t say anything. He just opens his arms. 

And Buck simply falls into them. No second-guessing or uncertainty. He clings to Tommy like he’s a safe haven, fists gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, pressing in close until there’s no space left between them. And still, Buck wishes he could crawl inside Tommy, just to be even closer. His mind quiets, the storm inside him calms into a single thought, repeated over and over again. 

Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. 

He breaths him in, the familiar scent anchoring him. Slowly, he matches his breathing to Tommy’s. And, in that moment Buck is entirely convinced their hearts are beating in sync. As one. 

Tommy holds him just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other cradled protectively against his spine. He starts to run soothing circles up and down Buck’s back, murmuring lowly in his ear. 

“Shh, I got you. I’m here.” 

Then, gently, hesitantly, Tommy presses a kiss to the side of Buck’s head. Soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid he’s not allowed to touch Buck like that, but still feels compelled to, needs to do it. 

Buck lets out a shaky sigh, melting further into his arms. 

He knows eventually they’ll have to talk. About the break up, about them. About what had set Buck off.

He’ll have to untangle the mess inside him, sort through everything he’s buried deep. There will be therapy. There will be hard conversations. 

But not right now. 

Right now, he lets himself believe Tommy—that he’s here, that he means it—and decides to go from there. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Will you stay?” 

They speak at the same time. 

And then—

Yes. 

For the first time that day, Buck feels a genuine smile break across his face. 

It won’t be easy.

But he thinks that maybe—just maybe— things will be okay. 

[w1nds0ul]

I would like to order a fresh, DOA members, Poe, dazai, chuuya, tecchou and mori reacting to Reader wearing pheromone perfume? Well done with extra sugar please, we are very hungry. ❤️

𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜... Fresh cookies with extra sugar coming right up!

mori will not be there though due some reasons and the DOA will be done in a separate post!

“ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚, 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚. ”

𝘉𝘚𝘋 𝘔𝘌𝘕 ( 𝘋𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪 - 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘶𝘺𝘢 ☆ 𝘗𝘰𝘦 ☆ 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘶 ☆ [DoA will be in Part 2] ) 𝘟 𝘎𝘕！𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩; 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 ‘𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜’ 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙢𝙚/𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚, swearing

－ 𝘋𝘈𝘡𝘈𝘐

• Immediately notices a pleasant smell when you walk in the room, and towards him. It’s different from the usual scent you put on, and he knows that.

• You’ll notice dazai being extra flirtatious and talkative, he’d also want to be around you often that day. Will definitely mention you smelling so nice, even getting handsy with you.

• He loves the smell of you, and you’d act clueless on the way he’s acting, but unbeknownst to you, he knows the perfume/cologne you chose today. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when he says he knows you wore such a scent.

• His behavior was genuine, you smelled way too good and it was hard for him to keep his hands to himself and not doing anything else, let alone not whisper dirty nothings in your ear. He thinks you’re adorable for trying to seduce him in such a way, a creative one at that. (It’ll be to the point where it’ll make you irritated.)

• If Dazai still could scent your fragrance once you two get home, it’ll be quite a pleasant night for you both. He’ll finally be able to release the tightness in his pants, the tightness you caused.

Dazai’s arms were wrapped around you, cradling your body. It didn’t matter if anyone walked into the office, right now all he could think of was how you smelled at this moment. It was an addicting and he wanted more of it. “ You think I wouldn’t notice? ” He mumbled to you with a smirk growing on his lips. “ Notice what? ” You responded back, knowing damn well what he was talking about.

Acting clueless is part of the plan, and you hoped at that moment that he wouldn’t see through such a facade. “ You know what I’m talking about. You smell nice right now, too nice for your own sake. ” He said, his hands going down to your hips, then thighs and then back up again. That compliment sounded backhanded and although it wasn’t, you didn’t bother to respond back to him.

“ Don’t ignore me now, I’m so very tempted already and not saying anything will make me even more. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘊𝘏𝘜𝘜𝘠𝘈

• Like his love for dogs, and considering dogs have good noses, he does too. He’ll notice you suddenly smelling extra nice that day, but just can’t pinpoint what perfume/cologne you’re wearing. He buys you stuff oftentimes, with it being jewelry, outfits, and in this case, fragrances. You always use them whenever he gets you any and those are the only ones you use whenever you go to see him. This isn’t a scent Chuuya bought you, and he knows it.

• Though the suspicious smell he can’t figure out isn’t the main thing he’s focused on, it’s actually how damn good you smell right now. You’ll notice the perfume is working by how clingy he is, and just like Dazai, he’d want to stay around you whenever you have it on.

• Way more talkative, and glances down at specific areas of your body while he’s with you. Eventually it’ll get to a point where Chuuya just wants, no, needs to make out with you. You’re driving him mad and he’s starting to get frustrated with how you make him feel right now.

• Once you tell Chuuya that you were wearing pheromonal perfume, it all started to click to him. It explained why he felt so needy to have his tongue intertwined with yours, why his pants felt so tight all a sudden.

• Now although Chuuya isn’t mad, he is confused on why you didn’t just ask to get intimate with him. Afterall, he wouldn’t deny you anything, not even sex.

Chuuya grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “ Ugh, fuck... ” He mumbled to himself out of frustration. “ Are you okay? ” You ask him, despite knowing what the reason is anyways. He looks up at you, blushing and trying to regain his composure. “ Yes, I’m just getting a little tipsy from the alcohol. ” Chuuya sighs. That was an obvious lie, his glass still filled with the beverage he poured for you two. “ Two sips make you tipsy? ” you chuckle, his face scrunches out of anger in response. “ It isn’t because of me? The perfume? ” Chuuya’s eyes widen a little, you knew about this and refused to give him an explanation.

“ You fucking—, shit… Can you at least help me, this is your fault you know. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘗𝘖𝘌

• Poe, like the rest, will smell the perfume and will become addicted to it. This isn’t something he feels everyday, let alone sense from you everyday so he’s going to be curious on what is causing this sudden arousment.

• Poe knows he’s in love with you, he’s knew that from the moment he started to develop feelings and see you differently from others, is this another effect of experiencing love? Suddenly feeling aroused from just the faint scent of you?

• He will compliment your look, telling failed pickup lines to you, and just unconsciously getting a bit handsy (in a way that’s normal, such as hands on your hands) . If you don’t like it then Poe will stop, but he needs to know, why does he feel this sudden urge to push your knees over your head.

• If you happen to be in the same room as him while he’s writing, oh the things that will be written in that story. It’s honestly surprising, coming from him even because you’d never expect him to write like that. Poe will soon come back down to earth and realize what he’s writing with that pen in his hand.

• After a pause of realization, his cheeks start to heat up and he quickly hides the work in his lap. When you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll yell nothing before leaving the room with Karl to go talk about his current odd feelings to him.

• Poe will ask you what trick are you pulling to make him feel like this, what sorcery or ability do you have to cause this?

• Once you explain that it’s pheromonal perfume, and that you put it on for him, it’ll all make sense. Now don’t get him wrong, he’s flattered but at least tell him or something from the start. ( he‘lol tell you to wear it on occasions, just for him at least. )

The pen moves elegantly, Poe’s hand guiding it where it needs to go. You sat in a seat in front of the desk, reading one of his mystery novels in your lap while Karl sat in Poe’s lap. He looked fine while he was writing, calm and focused even but in reality, his laps shake from the arousal that’s been hitting him all day, it’s getting unbearable by the minute. Of course, he wants to initiate some sort of relief, like a few kisses, but the thought stopping him is that it would be awkward, especially during this peaceful quiet time. Who is he to disturb this perfect moment of you two bonding, he can’t messed this up, he just can’t. Poe needed to know though… and getting up, he exclaimed.

“ What sorcery is this?! Why are you making me feel this way?! ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘛𝘌𝘛𝘊𝘏𝘖̄

• Tetcho is unbothered by the sudden pleasure in his stomach when you walk by him with a nice smelling ‘fragrance’. He feels that feeling anytime he sees you, so why should he worry about it?

• Though this feelings seems more intense than usual, but once again he isn’t fazed by it. Maybe when you two get home he can bend you over a bed or something, this arousal shouldn’t get in the way of his duties of a hunting dog. It’s weak of him to do anyways.

• The irritation will start to get to you, seeing that he doesn’t care at all, it makes you want to punch him so bad. Jonō’s motto started to make sense to you at this moment.

• If you didn’t lose hope by now, that’s a good thing. The more he breathes in the pretty fumes, the more he notices how pretty you really are, how nice you smell, and how sensitive his body is starting to get.

• Tetcho will start being a little bit more bold and flirtatious. It’s finally working on this man and he’s giving in to the desire, and he’s also given the ‘this makes me look weak’ motive a break.

• It’s advised that you let Tetcho know that you put pheromonal perfume before you even plan this out, he wouldn’t care but it would be preferred by request from him.

Tetcho’s fingers tap away at his phone, doing god knows that on there. You sat besides him, your fingers quivering out of irritation due to how unfazed he is, how he doesn’t seem to move an inch, despite the arousing perfume you wore today filling the current vicinity. You lay your head on him, hoping that will spark some sort of reaction but no, he answers with a little hand rub on the thigh. This was getting pointless, and even if he did know you had this perfume on, it was ineffective on him, bummer. “ Do you want anything to eat? ” You say ready to get up to go get some food for you two. Tetcho glances up then back at his phone. “ You. ” He responds with a smug look on his face. You felt heat rise up in your cheeks from such a comment.

“ What? You wanted a reaction from your little trick, so I’ll give it to you. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter 1: The Manuscript

“He thought about how they said-

Since she was wise beyond her years everything had been above board. Now he wasn’t sure…”

series masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance?

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n’s (I’m sorry, I know I’m sick of it too.), fake marriage, possibly eventual smut in later parts we’ll see, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything! And as always, lemme know what you think!

wordcount: 1.3k

“The professor said the write what you know”

Spencer sat at his desk, anxiously scribbling away at a case file that he knew he simply wasn’t ready to hand over just yet. Not ready to let go or say goodbye. The office was deserted with the exception of Emily still fussing around in her office like she always was these days, just like Hotch before her, and Gideon before him. Back in the days when he was the youngest member of the team— god how things had changed.

“Looking backward might be the only way to move forward-”

six months prior:

"Come on, Em. She’s too young. I’d hardly say she has any real-life experience, and as helpful as she’s been, she certainly doesn’t have the field experience. And you want to drop her into an undercover operation at a university thousands of miles away? I just can’t logically wrap my mind around how you think this is our best option,” Spencer sighed, anxiously pacing the length of Emily’s office. Maybe it was the lights, but more likely it was the outlandish plans being laid before him that were bringing on the all-too-familiar throb of a migraine.

Emily cleared her throat, glancing up at Spencer with a tight-lipped, not-quite smile. “If you would let me finish, I wouldn’t be sending her alone. I’d be sending her with you. The unsub—or rather, unsubs—are targeting couples where the man,” she pointed to him, eyes widening as if to say keep up, “in the relationship comes from a position of power above the woman.” She wildly waved her hand toward the door, motioning to the woman sitting just outside the office.

“You’d be posing as a professor, which technically isn’t anything new for you. Though we might have to rub a little dirt on your good name.” She shrugged, glancing back down to shuffle through the pile of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for, holding it out for Spencer. “A handsome professor and his new, albeit young, ex-TA of a wife... forced to move after your relationship went public. Tragic.” She quirked a brow, offering Spencer a playful smirk. He did not return it, instead rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the file containing what could be his life for the next couple of months.

“Look, if we place you both at the university, she’ll fit in with the students, you’ll fit in with the professors, and now we have eyes and ears everywhere we need them. It’s logical enough, Spencer, and she’s already agreed as long as you’re up for it.”

There was a long pause as Spencer’s mind ran wild, figuring the probability of everything that could and likely would go wrong if he agreed to this plan.

“Look, we’ll even count this towards thirty days of teaching if that sweetens the deal at all?” Prentiss let out an exhausted sigh. Clearly, this was her only option, and everyone else, even the higher-ups, had approved this plan. It all now sat on Spencer’s shoulders. All he needed to do was agree.

“Fine…” he mumbled, his palm digging into his eye socket briefly trying to dull the growing pain behind his eyes. If Prentiss noticed, she chose not to address it. “Great! See, maybe it’ll be good for you? The faculty housing looks nice-ish..? And you’ve gotta admit, Y/N is sweet. I think she’ll learn a lot from you.”

Before Emily could finish her statement, Spencer turned on his heels, stalking out of the Unit Chief's office past the probie, her doe eyes fixed on him like he was a predator. Her gaze startled him in a way that sent him tripping over his own feet. He quickly righted himself, not daring to glance back at the younger agent on his way to the kitchenette.

An hour and several cups of coffee later, Spencer Reid found himself at the round table, sitting perfectly still as his breath caught in his lungs, watching the young woman in front of him sign her name on the dotted line. It’s official; Doctor Spencer Reid is officially a married man—sort of.

It felt so absurd, having to sign a marriage license. Though, logically, he understood. If they were using Spencer’s name and reputation as a backbone for this assignment, there should be a paper trail. At least when it came to this, he knew Penelope could fabricate anything and everything else they might need, but this silly piece of paper, declaring them man and wife—that was free and public information that needed to be real.

“So…” Y/N's voice was soft as it attempted to cut through the heavy weight of the awkward atmosphere. She fidgeted, tapping the pen against the table.

Spencer cleared his throat, eyes raking over her as the voice in his head told him once again that this was an awful idea, that she was too young, that she had no field experience, and there were far too many ways this could all go south. He tried his best to shake them off. “If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t mean this to be rude. I was a young agent—actually one of the youngest agents the BAU has ever had—” he caught himself in his ramble, his eyes searching her face for any kind of discomfort before blinking harder than necessary in an attempt to focus. “Sorry—uh, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ll be twenty-five in October… so twenty-four.”

"Right..." he chuckled, shaking his head, "that means...w-when you were born I already had two PhDs and was nearly finished with my third."

She groaned, a slight blush covering her cheeks as she fought the embarrassed grin threatening to take over her lips. “Doctor Reid—”

“Spencer.” He cut her off, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I—Uh… you can just call me Spencer. I don’t think couples typically use such formality when they’re addressing each other…”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, offering a little nod. “Spencer,” his name felt too personal on her lips, “I—” a rosy blush creeping up her neck as her mind went completely blank, every thought she’d ever had lost in the warm glow of his golden eyes.

As if on cue, Emily entered the room, a smirk on her lips as she observed the younger, seemingly awestruck agent gawking at her favorite genius. “Hope I’m not interrupting, but I thought these might be useful?” She shrugged, placing a velvet box down beside Spencer before sliding the other across the table to fall into the younger woman’s lap. “Congratulations. I now pronounce you man and wife or whatever they say—beware, Penelope is likely going to throw rice or glitter or whatever she found in her desk at you as you walk out of this room. You’ve been warned. And I’d say kiss the bride, but frankly, I don’t want to see that. Wheels up in thirty.”

With that, she offered the new couple a nod before retreating back out of the conference room, back to her office, leaving them to open the velvet boxes. The rings were simple, nothing too flashy, like something you’d expect a professor to be able to afford without breaking the bank.

“Right…” Spencer said, sliding his own ring onto his finger before rising to his feet, his fingers awkwardly clenching and flexing at the unfamiliar weight. “Maybe if we don’t leave together, Garcia won’t ambush us.” He turned towards the door, hesitating a moment to glance back at the woman he could now call his wife. “Unless—unless you’re ready to go… we could, uh, head out together?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Y/N nodded quickly, jumping to her feet as she organized the pile of papers back into their folders and into her bag. She crossed the room, stopping beside Spencer. She glanced up at him, her own ring feeling heavy on her finger as she hesitantly reached out, offering him her hand. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between her waiting palm and her eyes before reluctantly accepting the offer.

“Shall we, Mrs. Reid?”

“Now and then he re-reads the manuscript. Of the entire torrid affair~”

Chapter II: Guilty as Sin

Thanks for being interested in my silly little concept 🩵

@flowerpott1978 @olives-and-sunshine

[mscherub]

Clinging for (Emotional) Support

Prefect needs a bit of a break after a stressful day, so they seek out their favorite person...

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect or Y/N

Warnings!:

These are just my headcanons!

Light swearing (I just put this as a warning on everything cause I absentmindedly do it…)

Tags: Fluff, romantic or platonic (perceive it whichever way you'd like to), hugs and cuddles, comfort

Heartslabyul; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle, Scarabia; Pomefiore; Ignihyde; Diasomnia (you’re here :3)

Intro:

You’ve had a bad day, well, a worse one than usual, and you feel like you’re on the verge of crashing out. So, you go to one of your favorite people and you cling to them for some emotional support, not doing anything else besides holding on for dear life and nuzzling your face into their chest or shoulder, not providing one bit of information as to why you’re even doing this. But, don’t worry, they care for you a lot, maybe more so than they let on <3

Kalim ☀️:

Heyyyy! Look, one of his favorite people are coming to him and…wait, you don’t seem like yourself here. Now, Kalim is no stranger in having to cheer people up, he has like over 30 younger siblings so I bet he’s done it multiple times

Yes, yes, he is ignorant to most things, not being able to take a hint or know when to say stuff or when not to say stuff, but you’re coming to him looking all distressed, so he can at least acknowledge that

He’ll wrap his arms back around you and your mood will affect his. He’s not smiling again until you smile

“Prefect…what’s wrong? Why aren’t you smiling? Cmon…your smile is pretty like the sun! Bright and warm!”

He’ll try his best, hugging you right back and continuing to question what’s wrong, he’ll go as far as trying to buy you stuff

Please stop him

Like actually stop him, it’ll also save Jamil in the process from having to add more shit to the treasury…

“Mmmm…I’ll hug you as long as you need, just smile again. Be happy. You know you can always talk to me. I may not know what to do or say exactly, but I’ll do everything to make you happy again.”

Jamil 🐍:

He doesn’t have that much free time, you know him, so when you come to him with that defeated expression on your face, and then continue to just glue yourself to him, he’s confused and a little baffled. He has shit to do and yet here you are…

He’s used to taking care of his own problems, so excuse him for thinking you’re helpless in the moment :)

He does care, he truly does, but he shows it in his own special way

“Ah…what’s wrong? I can’t have you clinging to me like this, Prefect…I have things to do, please…”

He’s not the type to cuddle, but like some of the other guys, talk to him if you feel like it, and just as long as he can shake you off in a few minutes so he can go back to doing whatever, then it’ll be good for both sides

“You can always talk to me, I’m not against the idea. Just know I may not give the advice you’d want to hear, more so the advice you’d need to hear…sorry, share what’s on your mind, I guess I have a few minutes…”

Vil 🪞:

Lifts his arms away from you quickly and he looks at you with a baffled gaze

Again with being busy, he’s like always busy, and he has an image to keep up, but I guess you don’t really care about that right now, clearly. He’ll humor you for now, but no longer than a few more seconds or he’ll push you off…but, oh…

Alright then, this is…new from you, you’re constricting grip around his waist, but it’s obvious you’re not exactly how you usually are so he’ll pry and get to know what’s going on

“Spudling…what’s the meaning of this? I’m genuinely asking, not to be rude. Do speak about why you’re doing this…”

His arms will eventually rest around you, he’s not that mean y’all. His embrace is elegant and considerably grounding, like he knows exactly the type of comfort you needed at the moment

He’ll try and get you to talk about it as well, it’s a betterment to the mind to talk about problems, and to help the mind fully decompress from stress

“Sweet potato…I have a few minutes to spare, so let’s talk about whatever the matter is with you. I listen well and I can provide suitable advice if that’s what you’re looking for. Smile again, a joyful and happy smile can instantly turn anyways day around…”

Rook 🏹:

Ah? Trickster coming to say hello? Or not…he’ll be surprised but he won’t push you away. This is a beautiful way of expressing gratitude for someone so he’s all in. It’s quite beautiful how expressive and up front you are with your affection!

Then he’ll notice you’re not ok (pretend to notice, he knew the whole time…he kinda seen how your day went…don’t ask questions about how he knows :3) and he’ll wrap his arms back around you

Be ready for a damn mantra on this little display your putting on

“What’s this? Mon Trickster, what is with that look? Ne regarde pas si bas…lighten up!”

Talk to him about it, he does grand gestures and words, so he’ll stay with you until you let go first. Just know he’ll always have open arms for you whenever you’re feeling down

“As a hunter I just be accustomed to the emotions of others…they are de toute beauté! You are no exception, Trickster, for your smiles is as radiant as the sun at its highest peak when you are at your best! My arms are forever open if you shall need assistance, you are simply beautiful when happy.”

Epel 🍎:

You spoked him a bit, also, ew, get off of him…or wait, he might not mind it, cause like, he’s being relied on for once, and it’s you that’s doing it so, he’ll let it slide, especially cause you don’t look to hot at the moment

He can help, always, you know him, duh! So what’s up then? If he can read the situation right, you look pretty stressed so there’s that

“Hey! What’re you doin!? Erm, sorry I didn’t…you ok? No? Aright then, what’s s’matter with ya, you’re clinging awfully tight…”

With a small grumble he’ll hug you back, but very lightly, like he’s embarrassed almost, and he is, but he’s helping you out so…he guesses it’s ok

Talk about something to make it less awkward for him. He’s a good listener but he’ll probably just respond with a few hums or nods here and there

He means well

“So…I just wanna know what holding on does…you could talk with abaut things— aye! Ok, don’t gotta squeeze tighter, calm on down…yeesh, but, hey…it’ll be ok, like I said, you can always rely on me! I ain’t strong for nothing!”

Idia 🎮:

If yall expect me to be nice…

Screams, then goes quiet

He wishes he can shrivel up cause like what the hell are you doing? And more importantly, how’d you get in his room? Did ortho let you in? He had to have a talk with him…

He’s already kinda scared and he just watches as you hug him tighter like he’s not just sitting here basically dying now out of embarrassment, thanks, Prefect

“AHHHH! Prefect! What are you! Hey!!!!

But you do kinda seem stressed, and he does the same with like his pillow or what not when he’s not feeling 100%, so he gets it in a way

Just don’t make it any more awkward than it needs to be. You can ramble to him but he might not answer back that much or try and help, probably on his phone or PC…maybe if he gets comfortable enough he’ll absentmindedly rest his arms around you

“I don’t know why you chose me…but I dunno…what do people say? It’ll be ok? Yea…it’ll be ok…I guess. Don’t surprise me again like this…heh heh.”

Ortho (Strictly Platonic) 🤖:

Hiya! You’re hugging him, how sweet! He’ll giggle and hug you back, and he’ll also do a little scan because his sensors detected an unbalance in hormones specifically targeted towards stress levels…

Now he’s a bit worried due to the data he got off you, so he’ll get your input

“Prefect! What’s wrong? My scans show an imbalance…are you stressed? What happened?”

Now he’s searching up what he can do to make you feel better, he’s got a lot of answers now so he’s gonna do his best to make his friend better!

“It says here that if you discuss what’s really bugging you it can help to lower levels of stress! Also we can try other methods if you’d like!”

Malleus 🐉:

Hmmm? What’s this? Quite peculiar of you, and it’s you so he’s ok with it, anyone else most likely wouldn’t have even gotten the chance…just be lucky Sebek isn’t around

He’s just intrigued in general, it’s interesting you’re doing this, truly! He can’t really tell the difference in your emotions, just confused as to why your clinging to him, though he’ll finally question it when you won’t let go

“Child of man? What is the meaning behind this? I’m not mad, no, just curious as to why you’ve come to me. Is something the matter that you need me to help?”

He’ll wrap his arms back around you, of course, just tell him what’s going on or he’ll start to assume things and maybe the weather will start to look a bit dreary due to that…

He has all the time in the world for you, stay with him as long as you need, and if you need any further support, he’s here to provide only the best for you

You are important, after all

“What emotions are being rather troublesome for you today, Child of man? I only wish to know so I can properly define what happens to plague you with this negative onset…do pray tell, for if you are to be happy again, everyone shall be in rather high spirits. I know for certain if your mood is sullied then it indirectly affects mine…smile, Child of man.”

Lilia 🧚‍♀️:

The younger generations just seem to be getting more and more bold with each passing day apparently! How cute of you to be doing this, you can’t possibly try to be out-cuteing him…oh, no, you’re actually not

Well…he’s gonna put on his parental side here, he knows what to do, kinda, even if his methods may be a little unorthodox but, hey, thought that counts?

“My, my! Oh, what’s wrong, hmmmm? Might I add you’re absolutely adorable at the moment? Share with me your problems, deary…”

Hugs you back tight, and his hugs don’t feel fleeting, they feel nice and warm, like home almost

If you don’t talk about what’s going on, he’ll assume you don’t want to, so he’ll improvise and start telling stories of the past, a distraction method. If you give him the chance he’ll rant for a bit, but if it helps clear your mind up and take it off of whatever is bothering you, then that’s the intended effect

“Back when I was a lad, my mother used to sing songs to me when I was feeling down…I do sing rather well, but I feel stories are more appropriate for the moment— oh, speaking of stories, a hundred or some years ago a bard traveled though and shared some interesting stories, Malleus was so little back then, no more than 17 I could guess…how time flies! Oh, speaking of time—“

Silver ⚔️:

He’s caught off guard at first. He has to take a moment to actually process what’s going on before he can even respond

He’s confused still, even after noting how tightly you’re holding on, well now he’s a bit concerned cause what is this for? Are you hurt? Is someone coming after you? Are you being stalked? His mind kinda instantly goes to those scenarios…he’ll obviously ask what’s going up

“Prefect? What’s…going on? Are you in danger at all— ok, no…then what’s the…I don’t get it.”

He’ll hug you back, albeit still judging the entire situation, but he’s got you

He won’t really say much, but he’ll listen. Just try and talk about what’s going on because this is kinda nice for him…damn, he’s feeling a bit sleepy now, he’ll just close his eyes and listen—

“Mmm…mhmmm, I see…you can come to me if you’d ever need help…so…yea…just come to me…this is nice…”

Sebek ⚡️:

Bro let’s out a loud yelp and tries to get away from you, he’ll start spouting nonsense about how this isn’t acceptable behavior from you, ignoring why you’re actually “bugging” him in the first place. He doesn’t really care at first…

After you won’t give up with your ministrations of holding on, he’ll give up on trying to get rid of you

Just like Silver, he’ll suspect the reason for you doing this is because you’re in some danger of sorts because you definitely don’t normally do this…

“Human! What is this! Human! Unhand me this instant! I— …are you in danger perhaps? Where is the threat? I shall protect you.”

There’s no threat so he’s even more confused, tell him, though he still might not understand the reason for clinging to him

He’s more so a man of his words, so discuss the subject of your mental health and he could possibly help

He’s…always here for you, so don’t worry. Any close friends of Malleus are important, and that’s totally the only reason he cares, definitely not click bait, yea no

“Human…are topics on your mind troubling you? Speak freely about them, I don’t mind one bit. Mental health is just as important as physical health, and in due time if you share these bothersome thoughts I can guarantee you’ll be in better shape again…”

That’s it? I hope so…I kinda like…gave up, SORRY I LOVE POSTING FOR Y’ALL BUT ITS LIKE I HAVE MOTIVATION FOR LIKE AN HOUR AND IM LIKE “nah, I don’t wanna do this,” THEN I FORCE MYSELF…I’m ok yall <3

Thanks for reading this hot mess either way

(Also does anybody else struggle to write for Silver or is that like a me thing cause I suck, so I apologize!)

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[xoxoladyaz]

locked in lowercase (inside a vault)

For @steddie-week Day 3: Longing (1,032 words)

Tags: Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

“Eddie, man. I think you should talk to him.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, really? What’s with the sudden change of heart, Emerson? That desperate to knock me down a peg?”

“Dude,” Gareth sighs, and the defenses he’d so easily garnered up fall just a little. “Look, I know I wasn’t all that thrilled about Harrington in the first place – ”

“Oh, that’s the understatement of the fucking century, Gare-bear - ”

“ – but,” Gareth ignores Eddie’s attempts at cutting him off, “that was before I saw how miserable you are without him. Like, dude. We made it. We’re on tour right now, and all you wanna do when we’re not on stage is sit on the bus and play Patsy Cline. You,” Gareth taps Eddie on the chest, “you should be having the time of your fucking life right now, but it’s like you’re not really here with us, man.”

Eddie lets Gareth’s words sink in for a moment. The kid’s not wrong, of course, but he doesn’t get it. He can’t. Eddie barely has the words to describe how the feelings started or what his feelings even are, but any time he bumps into anyone that has that look in their eye, that whole I wanna take an up-and-coming rock star for a ride shine, Eddie turns tail and practically runs the other way. It’s not to say that he hasn’t tried – oh, he tried, especially in those first few cities after first leaving Indiana – but it either didn’t happen or it didn’t end well for either party and eventually he just stopped trying. 

Because none of them were Steve. 

And the worst part is, it’s fucking hopeless. The King never, ever gave Eddie even the slightest inclination that it wasn’t just “babes” for him. (Although, to be fair to Steve, Eddie himself didn’t really know until he was too far away to do anything about it, and that’s assuming Eddie’s balls got big enough to even fucking try something.) Steve was kind to Eddie, sure; hell, he was even calling Harrington his best friend at the end, before they left for tour. But then Eddie started wanting and, even worse, started knowing that he wanted any eyes that looked at him in pleasure to be big and brown and belong to Steve and – well, he hasn’t been playing on this side of the field for long, but even a newbie like him knows just how this is going to play out. 

(Which translates to: he slowly stops calling Steve until he isn’t calling him at all. He takes “Head Over Heels” off the set list. He puts the swim team sweater he stole from Steve’s closet at the bottom of the “extra clothes” pile in the back of the bus. And instead of going out after every show, instead of trying and failing to find some peace in the bottom of a bottle like his dad, he sits in the tour bus and plays Patsy Cline on his acoustic under his fingers bleed.)

“It’ll only make things worse, Gare,” Eddie replies, fishing aimlessly in his pockets for the last of his Camels. “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you will, but he won’t.”

Eddie’s fingers still in his pocket. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You don’t think Robin chews my head off every time I call to check in?”

(It’s just Eddie’s luck, of course, that Gareth’s first-cousin-and-childhood-best-friend happens to be Steve’s other half.)

“Then why don’t you stop calling?” Eddie finally finds a cig and pulls it out of his pocket, only for it to get snatched out of his fingers.

“Because I’m not an asshole, asshole,” Gareth snaps. “And I’m getting really sick and tired of getting yelled at every time I call home because somebody refuses to man up and deal with his feelings.”

Eddie turns in place, glaring at Gareth. “I am dealing with my feelings!”

“By not dealing with them, dumbass! And for the record, you’re making it even more noticeable by notdealing with them! Hell, even Byers asked me about it the last time he called, because why else would you just drop Harrington all together? It’s been like a year, man, you have to deal with this at some point.”

“I – I didn’t know until a month and a half ago, Gareth, what the hell do you mean by the last year?”

Gareth snorts. “Seriously? Seriously. Holy shit, you’re serious. Fucking – really, man? Now I owe Jeff money.”

“GARETH!” Eddie snaps. “What do you mean, the last year?”

Something is on Eddie’s face, some expression that he can’t control, because Gareth’s eyes soften and grow sad. “Eds, man, you wear your heart on your fuckin’ sleeve and your feelings all over your face. All anyone gotta do is see you look at Steve and know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Gareth’s voice is almost a whisper now. “Do I really need to say it?”

The wounded beast in Eddie’s chest shudders. “No.” He pulls his eyes away from Gareth, refocuses on the rings on his hands – and more specifically, the ring made from an antique spoon that Steve had made him when they were going through his parents’ shit.

(It was the only piece of Steve he couldn’t bear to hide away these last six weeks.)

“Does – does he?”

(Eddie can’t finish the question; hell, Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s asking.

Thankfully, somehow Gareth does.)

“Go call him, Eds,” Gareth says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, a benediction for courage, and then leaves the tour bus, leaving Eddie alone and staring at the phone at the end of the bus.

(Maybe there’s a world where Steve feels, can feel, has felt the same. Maybe there’s a world where, when he told Eddie that he’s taking a break from dating that it meant taking a break from dating someone who wasn’t Eddie. Maybe Steve’s been trying and failing to get past this too, and is spending his nights by the phone like Eddie, waiting for someone to call.)

The phone only rings twice.

“This is Steve.”

(And maybe that world is this one.

But he won’t know until he tries.)

“Hey, Stevie. Got a minute?”

[jjwolves]

BIT FLIP ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

What: 5 Yandere ENA X Reader Headcanons

Who: ENA from ENA by Joel G

How Much: ~1100 words, ~6 mins

Credits: Image Banner → Joel G

Warnings: Threats, Mention of Suicide, Toxic Behavior

Everyone that you talk to always assumes that you and ENA are dating. Sometimes it’s emotionless statements, sometimes it’s mild disgust at your incorrigible life choices. And yeah, you and ENA are really close friends, but you aren’t dating. At least, you don’t think so. Sure, ENA is pretty touchy with you in a way that she doesn’t display with anyone else, always making sure to link arms with you whenever you go out, or lean into you when sitting nearby. But you thought that maybe she was just really, really comfortable with you. You like her for who she is instead of the convenience she brings you, which you’ve come to learn is rare for her. She’s probably just really happy that she has someone she can call a friend, and her behavior is being misinterpreted. You could see why other beings would think that you’re an item, though–ENA’s affection is constant. And you doubt it’ll change anytime soon; it’s just how she is!

ENA’s your best companion and always will be, but you have other friends that you like to spend time with as well. You let ENA know. Usually she just tags along with whatever you’re doing, but you don’t want her to be out of her element with a lot of people who don’t know her. Her chipper side dulls a little and takes a moment to load before speaking quietly, more quietly than you’re used to. She stops her idle dancing and opts to fidget with her fingers instead, doing her best to seem contemplative instead of… this other feeling she was experiencing. A feeling she hadn’t learned the name of. “I see. Your incoming absence is… (ding!) recognized. Well, since you’re unable to eliminate your bindings, I must inquire: What should I do?” You shot her a quizzical look and asked what she meant by that. Wouldn’t she just do what she does normally, when she’s not hanging out with you? “Yes, well, it’s hard to postulate, isn’t it?” Huh? It was only a few moments before ENA was upon you with static tears. “Please please please don’t leave me! Don’t leave me for them!! I know they’re better but just don’t!” You try to calm her down and reassure her that nobody’s taking you from her. She hugs back, hard, but you’re not sure that the message is getting through.

You start trying to distance yourself from ENA a little bit. You think that she might be a becoming a little codependent on you, and while it’s hard to say for sure if relationships in this world even work the way you think they do, ENA’s obsession has been made clear. Sometimes, when you try to get a little personal space, she throws a fit. “No-hooo! You’re leaving me! You’re leaving me!” Other times, she ignores the attempt for distance and closes in tighter, this time placing a possessive yellow hand around a cheek or a hip. “Oh, what joy it is to be in your company. Don’t mind my presence. Conduct yourself as you would, as if I wasn’t even here!” After saying this, she starts hovering around you, watching you with a curious, open-mouthed smile wherever you go, whatever you do. Using the microwave? ENA is watching. Tuning the despair compass? ENA has her head on your shoulder. You are constantly admired by your observer. It’s a little weird and creepy, even for her. Even simply asking her why gets her gloomy. “Ohhh, I should have known you wouldn’t even let me watch… Wretched, horrible me…” Weirdo or not, though, you can’t stand to hear her say stuff like that about herself. You shake her out of it and say that she’s not wretched or horrible or anything; she just needs to learn boundaries. Her yellow side responds with an almost academic flair. “Now that is a word I’m simply unable to learn. How curious! May I resume documentation?”

Eventually, you find out why people think you and ENA are dating, and it’s not because of her overly-intimate touch or constant following. It’s because she walks to your friends’ houses and tells your companions that you’re taken. Well, in so few words. “I understand that the one close to my heart is close to yours as well, but it’s important for you to know that someone already loves them very much. And that certain someone can be a vexing variable when left in a state of lacking. Do you understand what I’m communicating?” A stutter. A tearing of the world and a sky-shivering wail. A white face and flashing eye. “Just leave them alone!! If you don’t-If you don’t-If you don’t (ERROR) I’LL END MY EXISTENCE AND MELT YOU INTO COLORS!!” Your freshly-accosted friends quickly learn to back off when you have plans with ENA. She is completely unpredictable and they’d rather keep their distance from the bi-colored madwoman.

ENA does some work behind the scenes. After running up on your other friends and menacing them with her unpredictability, they stop spending time with you after a while. At one point, they don’t even pick up your talksignals anymore. ENA lingers in the doorway of your home when you ask her why your pals don’t want to hang out with you anymore—why they all left, just like that. Maybe you don’t understand how relationships work in this place, after all. ENA shushes you, her voice soft, feminine and on the verge of tears. “It’s not your fault… You’re so beautiful and wonderful. I’m sorry that I had to go and ruin it all for you…” She gently takes your hand and strokes a cold thumb over it. In the meantime, you feel like you should be appalled at her admission, but you’ve started suspecting it by now. “But it was for you. I’m yours, a-and you’re mine. And I’m not gonna let anything change that! I’m not gonna give you up!” ENA grabs you up in a frigid hug, like the cold wind that comes with rain, but you feel a change of temperature halfway through. “I do hate showing such tears in front of you. Maybe I’ll cut out the blue and put you inside. You’d fill me to bursting!” A low chuckle. You feel a lot of affection for her, but for the first time, you think you understand why your friends were so scared of this blockhead.