#creepy hours today
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not a request, i just have no friends that like lookism who i can rant about this to.
my brain cannot stop thinking about gun and goo with a s/o that is very feminine but in the way that a porcelain doll is feminine. like pretty and delicate but with an underlying creepiness in an uncanny valley way.
like holds gun and goos hand while walking down the street and part of the people walking past are scared of gun and goo but then they look at her and are like "😰" because there is something so off about her.
gun and goo going inside a store and getting something because they know that any man who tries anything will see that creepy doll-like stare and immediately walk away.
i dont know, theres just something about femininity of porcelain dolls that goes so well with gun and goo in my brain and i just needed to tell someone about this worm in my brain.
thank you for reading my rant, its greatly appreciated, my mind needed to put this SOMEWHERE.
Me about to say of course anyone ending up with Gun and/or Goo would be deranged. As a fandom we breeze over what horrific monsters they are then... this happened. Some things just write itself almost instantly. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me anon!!
Gun Park x Reader x Goo Kim: Soulless
F reader. A strange throupling. If you want horny, this is not it.
Crystal isn't sure if it is a stroke of genius or temporary lapse of sanity from her father to pair Gun Park and Goo Kim together.
Like oil and water; if the oil and the water was both highly toxic and would guarantee a painful death.
Nevertheless, it got the job done.
Yet when you were introduced, an odd addition and forming a throuple, Crystal worked hard to not show the confusion on her face.
True, her hyungs are very handsome in their own right and it would make sense they match up with someone equally beautiful.
But your doll-like, 'look you the wrong way and you may shatter' appearance seemed completely at odds with Gun and Goo.
And then she shook your hand, looked into your eyes and it all clicked.
Quite simply, there was nothing there. Vacant, soulless.
A void not dissimilar to Gun Park.
The polite 'hello' and stretched smile also reminiscent of Goo Kim.
Beneath your pretty layers, your pink and your frills are further hints of your true nature. Faint markings around your collarbone, dried blood below your manicure, dust and dirt marring your footsteps.
As Gun and Goo debriefed Crystal on HNH comings and goings, you simply sat there. One hand around Gun's arm and head resting on Goo's shoulder.
Staring and quiet. Expression unreadable. Just... existing.
You laughed when you were supposed to, added to the conversation when you should.
As if waiting for your cue. Even your blinks seem scripted.
Finally, when Crystal departs, she locks eyes with you for the last time.
A sense of drowning overwhelms her. Like she is treading water over an abyss, waiting for whatever is lurking to engulf her whole.
Feeling as if she would fall into your darkness forever, she couldn't repress the shiver down her spine.
#creepy hours today#lookism#lookism x reader#lookism fic#gun park x reader#crystal choi#goo kim x reader#gun park#goo kim#wannaeatramyeon
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ToApril Day 3: Stop to Smell the Roses.
I'm gonna be honest I had no idea what to do for this one. I eventually landed on my vague Beauty and the Beast au bc y'all liked this designs.
The fun thing about this AU is Meg and Apollo get their roles swapped. Meg gets to be the straight man, and the more social one, while Apollo gets to be the feral tag-along that everyone looks to Meg to translate for. It's fun!
#Trials of apollo#toa apollo#lester papadopoulos#meg mccaffrey#apollart#toapril#toapril 2023#au#I don't think I named this one#Apollo looks creepy here but he's just shy guys I swear#not rly proud of this one#but I spent 12 hours at disney yesterday and 5 hours at a theme park design competition today so I am TIRED dear lord
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His pale chest rises and falls gently, so slowly and quietly that he appears more like a statue than an actual living, breathing being. The occasional flicker of movement in his eyes is the only sign that point to Copperhead being alive, his serpentine eyes perpetually open behind their clear scales as is known with all snakes. He's asleep, though vigilant even in rest, the assassin posed ready to strike in the event trouble crosses his path during this time.
#🐍 || musings#Few things are as creepy as Copperhead sleeping#Because you don't know whether he's awake or asleep!#Even now he looks like he'd just be sitting or standing there#He's quite used to it and even finding sleep while tied like a pretzel#Ya Chip is TIRED ya'll#The end of two hard working weeks but guess what? I have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN#Because a colleague had to go to hospital so now I'm picking up double hours#At least I'm getting paid for it but at what cost 🥲#And today was so hard managing deliveries and frozen asdfghjkl#Hopefully I won't be doing this for another two weeks but so far it's at least one on my schedule time table#I am so sorry people I really thought I finally get a break but not yet!
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trying soooo hard to get back into critrole but the eps are so long :(
#im like 10 epispdes behind. tbats 40 hours. that would take me like 5 whole work days#and thats only if i listened nonstop without pausing (which i often have to do at work)#and that is judt. soooo mych for my brain#but its the ONLY ONE (besides creepy but that doesnt count) im not caught up on yet without starting something new#head in hands.#oh my god wait theyre on ep 100 now. i left off on 83#GODDDDD.#well. at least its like. the moon ep. which is what i was excited for. but its just. sooooo much#sorry im in a mood today. everything hurts im so sore from the dive yesterday#im in one of those “i need to cross things off of lists Or Else” kind of moods and. im at work whihc means podcasts are my only option rn#bc my other choices to get out of that feelings hole are usually either reading or watching yt. to get playlists organized#goddddddddddd not to mention the. weird identity issues. head in hands#idk who i aaaaammmm todayyyyyy#critrile is just soooo much. augh
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Creepy guy making me rethink my choice of clothes now :)
#essentially I had to work with the creepy guy that has been texting me a bunch the past few months luckily I avoided him the first 4 days#because he had a bunch of work to do. but today he had finished the work#which meant he could hang around where I was working#I was wearing my Hellamegatour T-shirt - then a little later in the day he got a message and all of a sudden a green day song was his ring#tone - I thought it was a coinsidence because basket case is a popular song ya know - but then a couple hours later his ring tone was all of#a sudden centuries by fob - and god I should’ve known that wasn’t a coincidence because was fob fan has centuries as their ringtone#but still I doubted myself - then once we went home he sent me a message about walking home and mentioned how he was listening to fall out#boy and considering he has never mentioned it before I knew 100% that he had noted what I was wearing to#try and mimick my personality to impress me#luckily if I avoid his place of work I don’t have to see him until Feb (we only work together on a volunteer basis twice a year) - but#genuinely this is the most I’ve been creeped out by him because even when I tried my hardest to avoid interactions with him irl he still#found a way to find info on me and try and manipulate me into likening him
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gearing up to start drawing again and i’ve been reflecting on why i draw and why it frustrates me when people say they cant draw or could never draw or whatever and, okay, yes i have spent years doing this for reasons which would involve a whole nother post than what i’m actually thinking about at the moment but i digress
i think people get self conscious of their art because they think if they don’t want to put the time in or get to a certain level that art isn’t worth pursuing at all and today i am breaking down your door and i am sitting down on the floor with you and i am telling you listen: the reason to do art is not to post it and it isn’t to be good at it and it isn’t to draw every leaf on every tree. the reason to do art is because you are a magician and you are putting a little guy there that wasn’t there before. and then later you can open your book of little guys and be like :)
“oh but I couldn’t” shh! SHUT! i am TELLING you RIGHT NOW that if you draw the worst little guy possible and you look at that little guy and you laugh and smile, then that literal 60 seconds it took you to draw that is more worth all of the years that i spent learning to draw because i desperately wanted people to notice and appreciate and be friends with me in school (and yes, occasionally it does happen but mostly in my experience that motivation backfires because half the people just want shit for free but wouldn’t give you the time of day and half the people are too intimidated to even talk to you). maybe it’s because i’m old now but who cares about that shit, you draw because it’s good to create something and look at it and smile because it’s yours and it belongs to you and you did that.
#if you go draw a little guy right now i will put a gold star on your forehead#i dont even need to see it#do you like sparkle? draw sparkle.#thinking about this because out of all the art i do on a daily basis that one of my most beloved drawings is literally like#a pierogi with dot eyes and stick legs that i drew in 30 seconds#people want that guy everywhere and when they see it they think it's so charming#and i used to be like why does no one look at the pieces i spend 4 hours on#and now i think of it as like wait a second i have an amazing superpower to draw really fast and make people smile lots#it took a long time to see past my own insecurities but man#i am telling you it doesn't start for you until you just content yourself with the fact that you like to draw your little guy#and im using guy in the most gender neutral possible way#that can be your blorbo that can be your pet that can be your creepy lamb with hands like my sister drew once#anyway i'm done im gonna go draw those little guys you sent me now#hapo text#sorry i cant draw i just realized i didnt actually eat today brb
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Everyone on Mercay knows Linebeck
For some reason, playing Animal Crossing always inspires me to write, and today it inspired me to write this... poem? This ...thing vaguely about Linebeck. It’s exactly 1000 words and I haven’t edited it since writing it.
So... if you’re interested in reading it, then please enjoy!
~
Everyone on Mercay knows Linebeck
He’s famous and brave and confident
And he looks the part
In his pristine coat and dashing scarf
With his flamboyant movements
And charismatic words
Most people on Mercay
And all others that know of him
Don’t think to look beyond that tailored mask
And allow their attention to be drawn
To his alluring tales
Instead of what is
Right in front of them
Those more enamored by him
Can describe his face perfectly
They always recall the curve of his smile
The glint in his sharp green eyes
The way his hair falls behind his shoulders
Too captivated by each of his calculated moves
To see the way his eyes are sunken and his cheeks are hollow
How though his hair is well-taken care of
It’s at the same time unkempt and uncombed
Every time he is seen in town
And his dexterous hands
With the prominently visible tendons
And the thin fingers that look just a bit too long
With jagged fingernails that look as though
They were bitten rather than trimmed
And whenever his coat sleeve slips back
You can see for a brief moment
His rail-thin wrists
And anyone who goes out of their way to see him
Will tell you
That is all you are able to see of him
Under those immaculate clothes
And little as it is
Hands tell detailed stories
But this captain’s hands
Tell no tales with such detail
As bandaged fingers suggest little more than
Slight mishaps in repairs
Or a slip of the hand when cooking
If he allows you close enough
Close enough to
Touch his hand for just a moment
Then every time
Without fail
Those skilled and slender hands
Are just a little too cold
Despite the way they move
And their proximity to machinery
The sailor smiles in such a way
That makes you forget the temperature of his skin
And turns your attention to his face again
His gaunt face
Hidden in plain sight
With dry and cracked lips
And circles under his eyes
Dark as the deepest depths of the sea
And the way his smile is never reflected in his eyes
He tells lavish stories and details to the listeners
Faraway islands with dangerous dungeons
That they will never see
But with enough detail and imagery
That they don’t feel that they need to
He tells about the ocean
About the endless horizon
And about himself
About his adventures
And his achievements
And everything he’s seen beyond that endless horizon
But he never talks about himself
People come from around the island to hear him talk
A few coming for the stories
A few coming out of admiration
A few coming out of desire
And they hear about an accomplished, adventurous sailor
And never about the person sitting in front of them
The ones most fascinated with him know nothing about him
They have to assume that he likes the color blue based on his coat
He never allows anyone to buy him a drink
And he never tells anyone what he likes to eat
No one knows what his hobbies are
What kinds of flowers he likes
If he likes any animals
What kinds of books he likes to read
No one knows how old he is
How long he’s been sailing
The ones most attentive when the stories are told
Make the uncomfortable realization
That he never mentions another person in his stories
No family
No friends
No companions
When he speaks to someone in the tavern
He never says their name
When someone goes to touch him
He flinches away before recomposing
He never asks favors
And never makes small-talk
Whenever he wins at cards
It can be heard that his lies
Have the same cadence as the truth
Though no one knows the truth
And no one wants to admit that
He is a different person
With everyone he speaks with
The only consistency
Seems to be the brief glimpses of anger
Flaring up so sincerely in his eyes
Or bright flashes of fear
In the way he reacts
When someone asks if he is being honest
Some nights he can be found
In the corner of the tavern
Sitting silently
With nothing to eat or drink
Laying out fifty-two cards
And then sorting them with a cold
Mechanical
Methodology
Some days
After a story he struggles to tell
He leaves very early
Blinking hard and resisting the urge to cover his ears
Shying away from touches and lights and smells
He is rarely seen in the streets of the town
And sometimes any semblance of cheer and confidence
Is gone
Replaced with listless stares and lethargic movements
And once you see past his charisma
Though the pristine grooming
The perfectly tailored responses
And the too-perfect movements
You find yourself looking at something
Something
Beneath a hollow mask
Made up of tireless imagination
Of exaggeration and mimicry
Something to hide behind
A mask that leaves you wondering
Why it was crafted in the first place
And what it is hiding
Beyond hints of an emaciated body
And shallow stories and replies
This mask
Propped up by fear
And endless charisma
And just-right movements
This mask hiding something
That almost no one on Mercay
Realizes even exists
And even those who do know what exists
Cannot search any further
As even with the mask identified
You cannot see underneath it
Unless the one wearing it removes it
And so those pretty words
Distract the people of Mercay
Away from what is hiding in plain sight
Keeping them from that deeply uncanny feeling
That something is deeply wrong
With the man that they idolize
The man they know nothing about
Except that he is a sailor
Who shares his name with his ship
But people still hear his stories
And find themselves captivated
By this hollow illusion of a man
Sitting in front of them
And still people will say
Everyone on Mercay knows Linebeck.
#you guys get a Tumblr Exclusive today#my writing#fanfiction#linebeck#phantom hourglass#loz#legend of zelda#i didnt really. plan this out i just started thinking about this. concept im trying to express while playing animal crossing#im so. enamored with this idea. that no one on mercay actually knows anything about him. that he never tells anyone about himself#that he so effectively distances himself from everyone and manages to make it so that no one actually wants to dig deeper#and that the only way to dig deeper is to get him to open up#like. we don't know a whole lot about him in ph even after he opens up to link#before i decided that the first and last lines would be the title i was thinking about the title 'hollow man' or something to that effect#the idea that there is something very visibly wrong with him both at first glance and if you pay more attention#but that he knows how to misdirect your attention to eventually fail to notice it#idk. something about this... poem? haunts me a little bit. i kind of hope that it comes off as creepy#this looks very different without word document page breaks#its like 7 pages#whatever. i wrote this in two hours and im very happy with it. hope you like it#going with the idea that this counts as a poem i am not good a poems i just wanted to be flowery and disjointed with my writing today
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my test today went way better than i thought it would!!! and my last class doesn't meet today, so i can take as long as i want on my lunch break then go home and keep playing baldur's gate 3 (after a little bit of hw–i will be responsible today dammit)
#key speaks#today is a good day#despite the slight lack of sleep#(i still got like. 6 hours?)#anyways!#i got bg3 last night!#i saw some stuff for it on tumblr and hyper fixated for like a week#and decided that hey since [redacted positive life event] i might as well splurge and buy it#(seriously why is it so expensive. i gave up like 3 very cute posters and some amazing stickers to play this game)#(i rly love decorating so it was quite the sacrifice)#took an hour designing my Tav#(they are a tiefling bard and their full name is Octave)#(they are very purple and a little blue and teal)#(i know nothing about tieflings and very little about dnd beyond basic tumblr osmosis)#(so i don't really know their backstory yet)#anyways i got through the first bit with the creepy gross ship and crashed it#then it was midnight so i went to sleep#i'm excited to keep playing!#can't wait to meet all the companions
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What is WRONG with me!?
#today for some reason my brain decides to wake up about three hours earlier than usual#so i look around my pitch black room#hear mum getting my little sister ready for school#and decide to go back to bed#IF ONLY#for some reason my brain decides to show me every possible creepy monster/creature/cryptid it can make up for NO REASON#making me too nervous to go back to sleep#and it sounds dumb when I write it down#but this is a recurring thing#i literally got scared by thinking about a movie ive NEVER watched because of what I think COULD be in it#AND I STILL DO#this happens to me a lot#this time it was just way worse than usual#my mind always puts the creatures in the house for like 2 seconds trying to attack me before realizing that it's dumb#there's 'the ghost' that possesses my doorframe even though I know that ghosts aren't real#and then there's the random noises that aren't there!#while trying to go back to bed after today's mindtricks once I got somewhat comfortable this loud INCORRECT ANSWER BUZZER goes off!#like WHAT THE FUCK#scared me all over again!#now im sitting here questioning if i need a night light like when I was 10 because the second the sun started to rise everything was ok#there's this voice in the back of my head telling me that there's more 'wrong' with me but idk if I believe it#it just doesn't seem right what it's suggesting#so yeah...#bluey's vents#tw vent#cw vent#bluey might be scared of stupid shit#abluehappyface
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god, I want to share pictures of WHY i haven’t been here/been able to read anyone’s kink week fics, but it is, in fact, illegal 😡
#we had our final performance for our THIRD summer camp today#on top of costume pieces i also did makeup and these kids looked SO COOL#idek how to describe it but just. SO BEAUTIFUL AND CREEPY#the show was an original piece inspired by the rime of the ancient mariner so they were all super spooky and dead LMAO#we had our professional photographer take some GORGEOUS PHOTOTS as well#but alas sharing photos of minors in non-authorized non-marketing places is not cool#ANYWAY one more week with one more camp and then i’m FREEEEEEEE#i mean not free but. back to my regular marketing job with blessedly less in-person hours 😅#i have so much to catch up on i’m overwhelmed LMAO
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it may have taken over six hours BUT! GOT THE LAUNDRY OUT OF THE MACHINE AND FOLDED IT!!!
#all around a thoroughly unproductive day that will result in approximately 3 hours of sleep going into the next work day#but at least I did one (1) thing I meant to do today#well. also showered. so two#WAIT ONE MEAL WAS REAL FOOD#THAT'S THREE WHOLE THINGS!!#if only I got any work at all done lmao#anyways the deltarune ost continues to slap and is great at getting you up and out of your Stuck Place#though I will say it was a little creepy when the motion sensitive light turned back on while I wasn't moving#while the slow sinister spamton music was playing#Cheese's personal molasses
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i hope the lovely southern gentleman that i spoke to at work about a week ago knows that i constantly fondly recall how nice he was and how his statement of “you’re wonderful and never let anyone tell you any different” is something i can hear him say in my head multiple times per day and has become an affirmation of sorts i guess
#kayleigh.txt#he was so pleasant even though his system was going absolutely haywire and i think of him fondly and often#does this all sound a little creepy??? possibly#listen nice people really do make a huge difference#i literally couldn’t do anything for him bc i’m just in the monitoring and dispatch center#which most people get irritated about but i have zero technical knowledge about the systems themselves so like#but he was so pleasant and nice and thankful for the measly amount of help i was able to provide#... ANYWAYS i am gonna go back to sleep for 3ish hours bc i am still exhausted and have to work 3pm–11:30pm today lmao
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whenever creepy guys talk to me i just wanna be like "im a man ykno, youre gay now. fucker"
#99.txt#creepy freak customer today =_=;;#i took his order im like ''will u be getting anything else :)'' hes like ''yeah whatever you want''#keep in mind he is old and gross#im like ''lol. ok so thats it then'' & hes like ''ill get u something. im a nice guy you know !!!'' ha ha 😐 heres ur total. buddy#and i hand him his receipt go ''have a nice day (:'' hes like ''what? you just told me to have a nice day ?''#im like ''yep (:'' he literally goes. ''well how about a nice night?'' EUGH 🤢🤢🤢#im just like ''. ok ..''#he pulls out all the FUCKEN coins#like ''i wanna tip u can i tip u'' im like. ''u can tip. the jar. over there''#one by one the fucking coins. making jokes about it while he goes im like. ok goodbye leave.#before he leaves hes like ''whats your name :)'' im like OHHH MY FUCKING.GOD#and he fucken read it on my nametag before i can cover it or smth =_= buddy GET OUT#then he came back like an hour later too ououoguggh#besties help we need to kill him
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trying to finish a paper on my little windowsill workspace and observing weather changes
#it went from sweet and sunny to violent snowstorm really fast#also the wind is howling through the vents it's kinda creepy#i was informed that the deadline is most likely today so i have 10 hours left!#edit just under 8 hours slight panic sets in but i'm more than halfway through#i forgot i actually like analyzing tests#academia#chaotic academia#dark academia#light academia#workspace#winter#psychology student#soon to be a fucking grad PLEASE i want to be done with this#mine#my photos#not good photos but who cares#i need lunch
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𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.
— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.
words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak
a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3
In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.
“What the fuck are you people looking at?”
Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.
The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.
Something—someone—is missing.
Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.
Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.
A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.
You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—
“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”
Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”
By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.
Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.
“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”
Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.
Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”
“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”
"Agreed. Case closed.”
There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.
Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.
Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.
Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”
Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.
“Threesome?”
Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”
In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.
Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.
Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.
The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.
They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.
Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.
This might be the circumstance of all time.
At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.
Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.
Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.
The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.
Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.
“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”
Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.
Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.
“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.
That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.
Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder.
Has he always had dimples?
Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”
Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.
Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.
When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.
Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.
You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.
His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.
“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”
You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.
“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”
He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”
“You’re perfect,” you hum.
“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.
Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.
“Can I ask you something?”
“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”
He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.
“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.
You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.
What is the best way for you to say this?
“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”
“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.
“I’m not imagining things, then?”
“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”
A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.
But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds.
With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.
His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes.
“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too.
You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh.
“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”
Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.
So this is warmth.
Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode.
Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”
Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.
“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.
Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.
“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”
“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”
Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.
Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.
“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”
“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”
“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.
“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.
Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.
“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.
“O-okay—”
“Is Chris in a relationship?”
“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”
Minho blanches. “How—how long?”
“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”
Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.
© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan smut#chan x reader#chan smut#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan x you#stray kids x you#bang chan imagines#bang chan scenarios#bang chan fanfic#*minific#*writing
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My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H
a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica
masterlist
₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader
summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it
warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy
wc: 1.3k
"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."
You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.
"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor.
You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.
"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."
You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place.
You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.
"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."
The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.
"Having fun talking to yourself?"
You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."
He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.
You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"
The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.
His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.
He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back.
You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."
He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.
"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."
The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.
The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.
He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.
Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.
With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.
"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."
You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.
"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."
You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh.
"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.
Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.
Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."
You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"
Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."
He was only half-joking.
"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.
Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.
"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"
He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."
And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x bimbo reader#aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader#hotch#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fic#hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff#Spotify
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