#gloomy voice acts

[dr-ground-zero]

Happy birthday @kushami-hime @goodlucksnez((I hope i did this right)) I made it a combined thing for you two even though ya'll have seperate bdays. hope ya like it

[ghostkidet]

Something positive for this blog: I finished writing my prologue yay me !!

[devoted-to-colin-farrell]

In Gloomy Eyes, Colin Farrell narrated the grave keeper. It’s an animation about a zombie boy who falls in love with a young human girl. Their love transcends boundaries in a world where zombies are outlaws.

Colin Farrell talks about Gloomy Eyes

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Chapter 1: First encounter.

Jack Desmond was running under the heavy rain with a bag over his head as he had given his umbrella to an old lady on his way home, an act of generosity that wasn't out of place in the whimsical place of cartoons.

He had almost missed the dark shape sprawled out in an alleyway. Nothing too unusual, maybe some ne'er-do-wells or a goofy character caught in some mishap, but somehow, his gut told him that it felt different. Disturbingly out of place.

Hesitant yet worried, he trudges closer, his shoes being tainted with red as he knelt down beside the dark figure. “Hey, buddy, you alright?” he called out, voice full of concern. His fingers tentatively touched the man’s shoulder.

Jack gasped, pulling his hand back quickly. His fingers were smeared with something deeply red and thick. His brain blanks out as he processes what he's seeing. Ketchup? Paint? No, wait-

His spine crawls at the sight and he jolts up, gripping his wrist as if he'd just been burned by fire, confused eyes shaking yet staying transfixed on the injured person as he stumbles backwards. He takes a closer look at the man's face- or, just his entire self for that matter. Staring back at him was his face twisted into a harsh scowl, unconscious. Deep scars crisscrossed his face, making him look rather villainous.

This guy wasn’t a Toon. The thick dark coat, those scars- the blood. This man was from another genre, one that didn’t belong in their streets of lighthearted fun.

This was when Jack's mind remembered the news he'd been seeing lately. Reports of dangerous men, bad guys, causing unease in the city. His eyes caught sight of the gun tucked into the man’s coat, confirming Jack’s fears.

The Guktav, one of the biggest and most influential criminal syndicates in the Grim genre where this gloomy-looking person probably came from.

He wasn’t just hurt, he was dangerous. There were already plenty of news about these people doing serious harm to the citizens of this city, not even including the ones that's not covered by the media yet, and this man here was probably one of them.

His heart pounded in his chest, unsettled. “...S- serves him right.” Jack muttered, more to convince himself than anything else.

But the more he stared, the more the puddle of blood spread.

Jack’s stomach churned. He’d never seen anything like this in his life. The slapstick gags and violence he was used to always ended with a quick laugh and a bounce back. But this? This wasn’t funny. The sight made his insides twist.

Jack glanced down at his hands, still stained with blood. The rain hadn’t washed it away, no matter how hard it came down.

He slowly starts to walk away, ready to head home and call the authorities…. when his heart pounded in his chest, the conflicting battle of his mind and heart finally crashing down on him.

"Oh-! Applesticks!" Jack curses, turning back with a huff and stomping to the man. “This is a bad idea.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head as he bent down again-

Jack's heart nearly leapt out of his chest when the man's gruff hands grabbed unto his arms and pulled him down, bloodshot eyes glaring straight at him. Jack's legs felt weak, his knees buckling and harshly hitting the bloody floor, terrified as the man's stare told him all he needed to know.

Do anything bad and he'd kill him.

The man's eyelids twitched, pupils rolling back. His large body collapsed on top of the smaller man, making Jack stutter as he fell on his bum, unable to balance himself. Jack lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, staring at the unconscious man lying limp on his stomach, staining Jack's suit with his blood.

Jack Desmond swallows hard, his heart wavering. Was he really about to do this?

[Context:]

Gavriel Huffman had been sent out to manage some business on a different country when, in the middle of his trip, he'd been attacked by a rival Guktav branch that had been following their car secretly.

Gavriel's group were chased into a secluded road before eventually crashing. Without the rival group seeing, Gavriel snuck out of the car, trying to take his men with him but being too injured to do so. His men managed to convince Gavriel with difficulty to flee on his own. He hides, watching bitterly as they get gunned down by the rival group.

Not being too far off from a city, he sneaks inside where the toons reside, collapsing on a random alleyway where he passes out from blood loss where Jack Desmond sees him by pure chance. Feeling sorry for the man, he brings him home with him, guessing that taking him to the hospital would probably get him interrogated by authorities and imprisoned. Jack doesn't know why he cares so much but the sight of Gavriel's dying body on the dark alleyway left quite an impact on Jack's psyche.

[slytherinshua]

BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

genre. vampire au/bthb au. established relationship. warnings. sunghoon is very jealous. profanity. kissing. slightly suggestive maybe. reader wears a dress. pairing. vampire!sunghoon x fem!witch!reader. wc. 1k. request. no. a/n. bthb is probably one of their best mvs ever it was so well made like omg?? giving tim burton film vibes esp at the end and every scene was just so stunning, obv it gave me fic ideas ksdjks. written esp for @blue-jisungs @hursheys and @loserlvrss

“Jesus, fuck, Sunghoon—” You shrieked when you entered your apartment, not expecting your boyfriend to be hanging from the ceiling, eyes staring at the door. He floated down to the floor, not moving a muscle. You were used to his… supernatural way of moving around by now, but you hadn’t expected him to jumpscare you like that.

“What did I say about hanging from the ceiling?” You muttered, brushing your coat off. Sunghoon slid over to you, hovering over your shoulder, eyes piercing your cheek. You figured something must be up. He didn’t act so vampirish unless he was pissed, reverting back to his old habits of hundreds of years.

“What did I say about going out without telling me?” He grunted in response, a very evident scowl etched on his face.

Ah, that’s why he was pissed.

“I did tell you, dumbass.” You slid your heels off next, padding your bare feet over to your shared bedroom. Sunghoon followed you, still too lazy to use his legs. 

“You didn’t say you’d be going in that outfit.” He countered, scarlet eyes shining brighter with his annoyance. 

“Seriously? I thought I looked pretty.” You huffed, grabbing one of his hoodies draped over a chair and glancing at the full-length mirror. You quite liked the dress you had picked out. Sure, it was a little revealing for your taste, but you wanted to try something different. All your friends were going to be dressing up nice. The dresses in your wardrobe were all gloomy colours and long-sleeves; very witchy thanks to your profession. 

The dark vermillion stained dress was sleeveless, adorned with jewels and a slit on the leg. You had bought it the week previously with your friend after trying it on and falling in love with how it looked. The colour reminded you of Sunghoon’s eyes. 

“You do look pretty. That’s the problem.” He muttered, biting his lip with his fang.

“There’s no need to be jealous, babe. I wasn’t looking at anyone else.” You assured him, pulling his black hoodie over your head. 

“People were looking at you, though. And for the record, I’m not jealous.” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed as he too looked at the mirror, seeing the obvious absence of his reflection next to you. He hated that. Why did he always feel invisible?   

“Whatever you say.” A hint of a smile played on your lips. No matter how annoyed and angry Sunghoon got, you were never intimidated by him. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was secretly a softie. You pulled on his arm, and as he held no resistance, his body fell perfectly into your arms. 

“Geez, you’re burning up. Sure you’re not a little jealous?” You giggled, feeling his forehead and cheeks. Although they didn’t hold any colour, they were warm to the touch. You knew enough about vampires to know feelings of jealousy made their stolen blood boil. Literally. You had focused on vampires in your witch studies. 

“The room is just hot.” He made up an excuse, dipping away from your reach before you could see that he was lying. You shook your head, amused at him. He pursed his lips, taking a seat on the bed and avoiding eye contact with you out of spite.

You slid the dress off under his hoodie and grabbed a pair of pyjama pants to put on instead. His clothes were always the perfect amount of oversized on you, plus the added bonus of smelling just like him. It was like you were wrapped in a warm hug at all times.

“Burn it.” Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence in the room. You turned back around to him, quickly figuring out that he meant the dress.

“Good grief, you’re ridiculous—” You started to protest, but seeing his serious look painted in his eyes, you figured it was probably best to not test him when he was sensitive. You picked up the dress, using a simple spell to burst it into flames.

“Happy?” 

He nodded, satisfied. He tilted his head, and you felt a tug on your sleeve; his sorcery yanking you gently, a silent plead to come sit with him. You complied, knowing already what would get his mind off the burning jealousy he was feeling.

“Need your kisses now, hm?” You ruffled his hair lovingly, enjoying the grumpy expression on his face. Sliding his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, you drew closer to his face. He couldn’t wait a second longer to taste your lips, his scorching possessiveness creeping in every cold vein of his body, heat shuddering through his skin.

He was annoyed at you and how you occupied his every thought. He just couldn’t get you out of his head, whether you were by his side or away from him. His entire life had turned upside down the second you walked in and trampled all over his heart. Now, he was stuck, inexplicable feelings swallowing him whole. He wasn’t used to it. No one else had such a big effect on him. He loved you too much.

He poured out his frustration into the kiss, fangs nipping at your lips, one hand holding the side of your neck to pull you closer. It wasn’t enough. Even as his tongue melted with yours, it wasn’t enough. He still felt the jealousy creeping up his spine, the thought of other guys seeing you look so pretty distressing his mind. 

You pulled apart for air, the eagerness of Sunghoon’s kiss depleting your breath quickly. He peppered kisses to your face and neck as you rested, tracing over every inch of skin he could reach as if to dispel any doubt that you were his. 

“Still burning up.” You mumbled to yourself, feeling the skin of his neck and shoulder junction. You smiled, wondering how many kisses it would take to cool him off again. Something was telling you that you would be there for a while.

↳ enhypen taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,, @delcakoo,,

@kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @nicholasluvbot,, @dimplewonie,,

@50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,,

@forever-atiny

[wisteriaw0rld]

-ˋˏ ༻!Taisho Rumors!༺ ˎˊ- (with the Hashira’s) part 2➳ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

||synopsis: finally time for some Taisho rumors between y/n and the other Hashira’s they’re close with!

||character order: Tomioka Giyuu, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Obanai Iguro, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Himejima Gyomei, Tokito Muichiro, Kocho Shinobu, Kanroji Mitsuri<33

(platonic headcanons, can be interpreted however you’d like!)

˚ʚtomioka giyuuɞ˚

After Shinobu began telling giyuu that continuously poking someone can help them open up to you, Giyuu began poking at your arm every time he saw you, despite having the closest relationship with you out of all the other Hashira’s. It still confuses you when he pokes at your arm silently.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

˚ʚkyojuro rengokuɞ˚

When talking, you usually have a soft voice. However after finding out that Rengoku had burst his ear drums while on a mission, you began to yell loudly when talking to him, just to make sure he would hear you without constantly asking you to repeat yourself. He finds it very kind that you speak loudly for him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

˚ʚtengen uzuiɞ˚

Even after he retired, you would constantly visit his estate. Every time you go, you always have tea with his wives while gossiping. The moment you finish with your tea, uzui constantly drags you off to his closet in order to style you in flashy clothes. This involves him doing your make up and you giving him a modeling show in return. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

˚ʚobanai iguroɞ˚

You were the first hashira to find out his snakes name. And once you did, you were constantly stealing Kaburamaru any moment you could. Eventually obanai just let it happen and would wait for you to return with Kaburamaru a few moments later. What’s shocking is that Kaburamaru takes a liking to you and loves when you take him to your estate to feed him and give him a mini makeover.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

˚ʚshinazugawa sanemiɞ˚

One day after a hashira meeting, Mitsuri braided everyones hair like hers. Although she had been too nervous to confront Sanemi due to thinking he wouldn’t be pleased. After Mitsuri and everyone else had left, you braided Sanemi’s hair as you didn’t want him to feel left out. He acted like he hated it but really was happy.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

˚ʚhimejima gyomeiɞ˚

Whenever you go on missions with him, he’ll gladly give you piggy back rides when you get tired of running or walking. He knows as a hashira your completely capable of running for long periods of time, but he secretly gets really happy when you ask him to let you go on his back or shoulders.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

˚ʚtokito muichiroɞ˚

Whenever Muichiro is upset or feels sick, he sulks by following you around everywhere with his forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder. He just stares at the ground while his forehead never leaves your back. He just follows you gloomily while sulking. And whenever someone tries to talk to you while he’s like that, he only gets more gloomy.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

˚ʚkocho shinobuɞ˚

After visiting the butterfly estate after a small injury from battle, you assumed it would be funny to play a small prank on shinobu by speaking in tongue to see her reaction. The moment she heard the gibberish leave your mouth, she stared at you as if you were crazy before finally saying, “for you, this is oddly normal.” She then proceeded to shrug before leaving.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

˚ʚkanroji mitsuriɞ˚

Mitsuri’s love for cats is very obvious. And being honest, you love cats as well. The two of you don’t always get partnered together for missions but whenever you do, the two of you spot as many cats as you can and give them each names. She also brings pink ribbons and likes to tie them loosely around each cats neck after naming them with you.

[ghostbsuter]

"And? What did you decide on?" Duke asks, fork slipping from his mouth and chewing, focused on Danny.

The boy in question hums. "Oh yeah, I'm totally joining in on the nightlife."

The statement has all of them stopping in their tracks, blatantly staring at the still eating boy.

"This will be my emo arc, daylight vigilante turned dark."

Tim snorts, Jason gives a smirk, nudging the eldest sibling next to him from his frozen state.

"Ooooh," Steph leans forward. "Have you decided? Bat or Bird?"

"New name?" Cass jumps in on the questioning with a small smile, eyes crinkling.

"Will you be joining us tonight then, danyal?" His twin speaks up for the first time during dinner, eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Yes." Is the short reply, with the way damian's lips turn down and displeasure makes itself clear, the intention of giving such a short answer has been met.

"Danny," Bruce gains the attention, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked and brows furrowed with what must be worry.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into this just because everyone else is—"

"I'm more than sure, B!"

The man sighs. "And I won't be able to stop you?"

"Mhm." He gives a nod.

"Okay," his shoulders sag in defeat. "Do you have everything then—?"

"Yep!"

"Even—"

"B, I'm pretty sure I got everything, you can, if in your opinion I am missing something, give it to me later!"

Danny grins, pushing himself up from the table and rounding around towards the door.

"Besides! My whole get up will be a suprise!! So stay awake folks because I'm gonna blow ya all away."

As he leaves, Steph and Duke make sounds of anticipation, curiosity eating at all of them.

(They dont know whats gonna hit 'em.)

"I'm betting 50 bucks that he's gonna be a bat."

Alfred shakes his head at the newfound excitement.

—

What an exciting night.

There is still no sight of their newest, despite oracle's teasing, having apparently already been included in the suprise.

"Well well well," a sly, yet teasing voice makes itself into the open. Catwoman, in all her glory, walks up to the group of bats and birds.

"If it isn't the bat, what's with the gloomy face?"

Batman gives her a nod. "Cat."

Her eyes roam the group and she tilts her head. "Everyone seems to be here tonight." She comments.

"We're waiting," the man shares. "Our newest decided to be more secretive about his debut."

Catwoman gives him a smug smirk. "So I have heard," a chuckle. "I've come here to introduce you to someone, truthfully."

"Oh? Who is it?" Nightwing perks up, having finally decided to join in.

"Me."

Some yelp, whip their head around and away from the lady in black, gasps and cooing (particularly from steph) fill the roof and Danny joins them.

He wears black combat boots, they're heavy just from the look, but make no sound as he jumps around. The front of the boots look like cat paws, they're reaching up to his knees.

Then comes the baggy black pants, knees protected by poleyn and his belt acting as a cats tail. The hoodie he is wearing is also black, with fingerless gloves (only the middle finger is covered) and reaching up to his neck.

Instead of a domino mask, he wears a hood with cat ears and a dark face mask. Cass claps, knowing fully well he took inspiration from her own get up.

The whole outfit is detailed with orange spots, some parts brown and others grayish.

"Meet my new mentee, Calico."

Danny, Calico, waves.

[akutasoda]

'do you think that this, us, ever could be something more'

synopsis - you both have painfully obvious feelings for eachother but both of you are hesitant to take that step until they decide to brave their feelings and confess in their own way

includes - dr ratio, argenti, jiaoqiu, aventurine

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst (mainly aventurine), pining, wc - 2.2k

a/n: guys i promise im working on requests :))

dr ratio ★↷

ratio detested you, namely the way you constantly refuted his words and theses. nonetheless, he adored nothing more than seeing you everyday - he'd say you were the one competent mind to converse with in an average day but you both knew deep down that it was purely because you enjoyed each other's company.

your friendship with the doctor was one of the most unlikely, others at the intelligentsia guild couldn't imagine anyone developing more than a simple coworker relationship with ratio. to some, even maintaining something as simple as a coworker relation was an arduous task.

however, you never saw the issue. ratio was a dear friend, it's merely the fact that he naturally gave off a rather off-putting first impression thanks to his slightly gloomy and eccentric nature. deep down he still retained these qualities but he could be a lot more caring in his own way.

although, for all his intellect, ratio struggled to maintain a grasp on his own emotional intelligence. a fact that could maybe be said for you as well, although compared to ratio you simply didn't know how to, or even if you should bring up the undoubtedly growing feelings for the doctor.

ratio knew what he was feeling, simply a release of oxytocin that caused those fuzzy feelings when he was around you. however he couldn't quite piece together the idea of you being behind those feelings, why your friendship wasn't enough, longing for something more than what you two currently had.

he'd never confide in anyone about his dilemma - he didn't need unwanted outsiders budging in on his personal issues. although, ever since he started looking for solutions, he started noticing signs that had previously gone unnoticed. namely how you acted around him.

a major concern between two crushes is the possibility of unrequited feelings. veritas would prefer to avoid such mistakes and push any potential feelings away if that was the case. so he often dwelled on the possibility of such. but it appeared that all the signs he misconstrued as friendly gestures and behaviour from you, could in fact be taken as more romantic.

he observed more as he had to be one hundred percent and in his quest, his mind slowly became more aware of his own feelings and why they only seemed to blossom more around you. ratio hated it. his feelings were like a gnawing feeling, constantly playing on his brain and it got to the point where he couldn't focus on his research - he would blame you, but he blamed himself more.

veritas knew he had to do something about it. and so he did. ratio was never one to beat around the bush, and so he took a direct approach to his confession - as soon as he could, he sought you out and told you about his feelings. relief washed over the doctor's unknowingly tense form when you told him about reciprocating such feelings.

you couldn't help but note his slight embarrassment afterwards, made evident by the heavy blushing which he quickly covered up by wearing his plaster head.

argenti ★↷

the encounter between the two of you among the cosmos was one of the more fortunate ones. a fleeting moment within the universe that set a start for the tale of a friendship that would last practically forever.

in his opinion, meeting you on his journey felt like a blessing from idrila themselves. in argenti’s eye's you were practically breathtaking in any way, everything about you from your mere presence to your voice to your appearance. it was only natural that he wanted to know more about someone such as yourself - and he was forever grateful he indulged his curiosity.

a blossoming friendship was easily formed between the two of you, one that had solid foundations to continue headstrong, even becoming something more should that be the path you took together. for all his charms, argenti made a true friend - someone that was always there for you in your corner, supported you, a pure soul that listened intently, someone that cared.

and for someone that seeked the aeon of beauty, it was hard for him to miss seeing the beauty of which were his feelings. flurries of emotion that could hold a powerful grip on someone's heart and actions if left unchecked and untended to. so as soon as those signs of warmth and calmness appeared strongly around you, argenti knew what it was.

that infatuation and pure admiration for you could only suggest that he subconsciously longed for something more than a friendship. in truth, argenti was devoted to idrila. he found beauty in practically everything, followed idrila’s teachings diligently and so he never truly imagined having someone else in his life that meant more to him than an aeon he devoted his life to.

but it couldn't be ignored, those feelings couldn't be left to simmer in the back of his mind as deep down he knew he wasn't content to sit by and keep the current relationship with you - although if that was what you wished, he would gladly sacrifice his own feelings just for you. however argenti was one to take risks.

a direct approach to voice the beauty of his feelings for you, should you decline them then so be it, but he wouldn't know until he tried. comoared to his usual gestures which could often be described as “grand” or “charasmatic”, a confession from him would be noticeably more gentle and intimate.

a moment of pure safety, he'd waste no time in reciting to you exactly what he wanted to say with a smile of lovestruck fondness as he presented you with a rose, all the thorns layed upon it's stem signalling the dedication and sacrifices he'd be willing to make for you - it's petals in full bloom.

jiaoqiu ★↷

being friends with jiaoqiu was never easy, although nobody exactly said it was easy. the pink foxian had the tendency to be rather cunning, mischievous even, and these traits only seemed to double when you actually got closer to him.

however, some could argue that eventually one would get used to jiaoqiu and everything he'd do or say - to an extent, they wouldn't be wrong but it still never made it any easier on most days. (un)fortunately you still put up with him as he was still a dear friend in the end.

jiaoqiu did have people he acquainted with or even people he was friendly with but ultimately he still had very few he would truly refer to as friends. he spent most of his time serving his dedication to helping the merlins claw and that was mainly his sole priority, jiaoqiu was determined to treat her.

so naturally, those closest to him did end up being those close to feixiao in the first place. yet he still found time to spend with those he held dearest, which was either you or moze and feixiao.

however, it didn't go unnoticed to either you or jiaoqiu that there was something there. something that couldn't be described as a simple friendly relationship, yet neither of you addressed it and continued on with your lives as if that feeling wasn't there in the slightest.

jiaoqiu knew very well that he longed for something more with you. you were the only person which drew out these warm feelings from him that had been killed during his time in the field and yet you had a way of bringing them back to him.but he simply couldn't cime to terms with it.

he'd withdraw from practicing medicine once before due to a broken heart, and deep down a part of him feared that you would make that a second time. so he tried to drown away those fuzzy feelings and tell himself over and over that you two were simply just friends, nothing more despite the clear longing urge to be that made him feel an immense sadness at the idea of never being something more.

and so jiaoqiu was hesitant. he wasn't dumb and he knew exactly how he felt for you, and he even could pick up on the way that you felt the same but somewhere in his mind he'd convinced himself that it was simply his own wishful thinking, not your true feelings. however, his hesitancy couldn't last much longer as he cursed you for affecting his work.

he'd be more of a fool to continue on without coming to grips with his blaringly obvious feelings for you, he knew it would eventually eat him from the inside out. and so jiaoqiu would begrudgingly find a way to confess, still letting that nagging fear affect just how he'd do so.

he'd catch you in the morning, handing you a personal meal for lunch like he occasionally did when he had free time in the morning. except this time, your gaze would immediately notice the small note tucked away within, one that you wasted no time in reading it's contents.

a part of him regretted giving you a note as the anticipation weighed heavy upon his mind, but otherwise he knew his nerves would've got the best of him. jiaoqiu specified in the note about his feelings, and how if you were to reciprocate them then you should come find him. this way he could avoid the painful rejection if it so came to that. until then, he waited in anticipation, still fearing your answer.

aventurine ★↷

he had coworkers, he had business partners who lways got the short end of the straw in a deal with him, and he had acquaintances. someone could even say they were the bare minimum for being a good use as stoneheart for the IPC. however, he did have some people that were closer than that, namely veritas and you.

and to reach that level with him was no easy feat. the man known as aventurine had put up many walls, facade after facade all in order to keep what little of himself left safe. the small parts of him left untouched by experiences that were painfully his and yet he could fool himself into believing that they belonged to an identity that no longer existed.

sometimes ‘aventurine’ didn't feel like him. it wasn't. if anything it was another defense that the past identity had let be forced upon him to help scramble for something good in his life. for someone blessed with luck, it never felt like it.

but his luck finally brought him something pure, something that finally felt like luck. and that was meeting you. a light that shined ever so brightly in his life despite all else, evoking feelings from him that he swore he buried when he bid goodbye to his past self. yet you dredged them from the darkest depths of himself, the parts that he feared and constantly kept hidden from himself.

however, old habits die hard. the very moment aventurine became conscious of what had bubled to the surface of his facade, he desperately tries to push them away. those warm, fuzzy feelings that he felt around you meant only weakness to him - something that you could choose to exploit.

his feelings were merely a chip. a means to use and manipulate at his disposal. they got in the way majority of the time, they could reveal ones desires or wants unknowingly and that never led to anything prosperous - especially in a high stakes gamble. but they were a chip for him and him only.

nevertheless, how could he possibly ignore them any longer when it seemed that his own brain was working against him. it made him feel all the more vulnerable, especially because of the idea of him confronting them just to have his heart painfully stomped upon and have his feelings left to painfully mull over into bitter sadness and reject.

fortunately, aventurine was quite the adept one at reading other people - a skill he'd learnt very quickly. so the hopeful part of him observed how you acted around him, picking up on the obvious signs that he previously misconstrued as friendly or simply ignored. eventually, he decided that the gnawing feeling needed to be sorted.

and so aventurine decided it was best to finally let down those final walls and comfess. because he was putting himself in a vulnerable position, he would get straight to the point. people may guess that he would go all out for a confession but that would be the last thing he'd do.

admittedly he let a small part of his fear get the best of him but he would still build up the courage to request to see you and confess face to face. he truly didn't know what he would do if you turned him down but he'd figure that out if it happened. it wouldn't go unnoticed by you that he held one hand behind his back at all times during his confession - the only time in ages that he'd been completely honest with his feelings to someone he trusted.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[javier-pena]

circumstance

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a stormy night, you’re haunted by a ghost from your past.

Warnings: dub con | unprotected p in v sex | creampie | unsanitary sexual practices | cheating | coercion | possessiveness | (brief) fingering (f receiving) | biting | oral (f receiving) (mentioned) | mentions of food and alcohol | mentions of blood and war

Notes: God idk what it is with me and seeing random pictures of Pedro characters that make me go feral. Anyways, wrote this in an hour, hope this is anything. I had Latin in school but I’m not vouching for any of the Latin words in this. I mostly wrote this because I’ve had a vendetta against international bestselling author Robert Harris ever since I was 15 years old. This is loosely based on a scene from his novel Imperium that has been haunting me for almost 20 years now. Also based on this post by @ozarkthedog.

***

There’s war. Outside the city, the land is burning. Behind the city walls, life goes on as it always has. There’s decadence and dissipation and life. That’s your part of the story. That’s all you’ve ever known. The comfort and the safety. That’s all you’ve ever needed to feel fulfilled.

During the night, when the city quiets down, when the people return to their homes and the public life ceases, you can sometimes hear it, like a storm brewing over the distant sea, like the rumbling of a volcano miles and miles away, taking deep breaths before spewing its fiery death. On clear nights, nights free of clouds and wind, nights where the air is so heavy it feels like a blanket weighing you down, you can even see it, the light from the battlefield, the glow of a carnage that swallows everything, even itself.

This night isn’t clear at all. This night brought rain and hail and thunder so violent it shakes the foundations of your house. You’re alone, reclining on your triclinium, too drained from dinner to move much. The storm promised some reprieve from the muggy summer air, but the heat is worse now than it was this afternoon. The wine you had with your meal, the glass in front of you now refilled a third time, combined with the weather makes your head feel like it has been wrapped in wool. Even breathing seems laborious.

But there are footsteps against mosaic floors, and footsteps mean visitors and visitors mean business. Business at such a late hour is never a good sign. With a groan you stand, with a sigh you straighten your tunic, and then the footsteps are drowned by a clap of thunder so loud you flinch.

What follows it is not the sight of one of your servants or even your husband. In the gloomy darkness that always follows a flash of lightning a shadow moves into the room, and when your eyes have adjusted to the dim lights of the lucernae all around you, you flinch again, this time with cause.

A man is standing before you, looking like the slain ghost of a soldier from the battlefield nearby. He is covered in dirt and grime, wet from the rain, wet from the blood he has recently spilled. His armor looks black in the darkness, and your eyes flicker to his side in trepidation only to discover that he’s still wearing his sword. He’s still wearing his sword, going against the rules of your house, the rules of your husband.

“Where is he?” the stranger asks, his voice deep and dangerous like the thunder outside.

You could play dumb, you could act like you don’t know who he’s talking about, but in that voice you discover something familiar, like a memory of a distant dream, never quite forgotten.

“He isn’t here,” you reply. “He might come back later, but he’s with the senate.”

The man steps closer, quick strides that take him right to the foot of your triclinium. You step backward until you reach its head, trying to put the piece of furniture between the two of you. Your hands are clammy.

“Good,” the stranger answers with a twitch of his lips that’s all too familiar for all the wrong reasons. “I promised you I’d be back for you, and I always keep my promises.”

There’s a doorway behind you leading through a small peristyle straight to your husband’s tablinum. You glance at the court, at the shrubs and flowers and fountains that you know are there but that are currently hidden by curtains of rain and darkness.

“Don’t –,” the stranger starts, but it comes too late.

You turn and run, skip down the two steps from the porch into the garden itself, your feet splashing into puddles as you run and run. Heavy footfalls behind you, heavy breathing, and a heaviness in your heart, calling back to a similar moment years ago that happened on such a different day full of laughter and sunshine and secret kisses exchanged in secret corners.

You reach the doorway to the tablinum. “Stop!” you bellow, and to your surprise he does. To your surprise, this works, and you don’t know what to do with that. “What do you want, Acacius?” you ask, your heart growing even heavier when you name him.

“You know what I want,” he answers, the rain loudly hammering against his armor, the water dousing his hair, making his curls stick to his forehead. “I came back to collect what you owe me.”

“We were children,” you remind him.

He’s up the steps faster than you can say those three words, the years between now and that summer afternoon seemingly having left no traces.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he growls, the storm raging over the city reflected in his eyes.

You step backwards into the tablinum, one hand protectively slung across your stomach. “You should leave, Acacius. I have nothing more to say to you.”

But there is only so far you can go before your back connects with your husband’s writing desk. And once it does there is nowhere for you to run to.

“I don’t need you to say anything.” His face is cast in shadows now, but when another flash lights up the night sky, you see that his expression is completely blank. “I just need you to lift up those expensive skirts of yours and let me take what’s mine.”

“Go back to that battlefield of yours,” you reply. “Go back and defend Rome like you’re supposed to. Or are you too much of a coward still?”

You should have known he would not take that kindly, should have known that provoking him wouldn’t make him leave. But when you feel his cold, wet hand wrapped around your wrist, when you’re being yanked into his chest, turned around, and shoved up against the desk, it still catches you by surprise. Some part of you, the one that never left that sunny afternoon, didn’t think he’d have it in him. Another part wanted him to.

His body presses into you with such force the desk scrapes against the stone floor with a creak loud enough to be heard over the storm. The sound that cannot be heard is the gasp you let out when he pushes up your tunic, exposing your legs to the humid night air.

“Don’t –,” you start.

He shushes you, one dirty finger touching your lips. You can smell the storm and the blood on him. He can feel your shaky breath.

“Just this once,” he mumbles into your hair.

Maybe you should fight this, but you don’t know how. He kicks your feet apart, and maybe you should kick back, connect your heel to his shin, and run. He bites the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder, and maybe you should bite his finger that is now resting against your lips while the rest of his hand is wrapped around your chin and throat, bite down hard until the bone cracks. He runs his other hand down your backside and pushes it between your legs, groaning at the warmth and wetness he finds there, and maybe you should use this moment of weakness to climb across the desk and search for something to defend yourself with.

All of it passes and you do nothing. All of it passes and you push backward against him, sucking his finger in between your lips. He pulls it out of your mouth, grabs the hair at the back of your neck, and pushes your head down toward the desk, your shoulders straining in protest. The groan you let loose is read as defiance by him.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hisses. “Just …”

He trails off and at first you don’t know why but then the hand at the back of your neck is gone and you sigh with relief, a sound that turns into something less human when he pushes two fingers into you.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

“Please …,” you try again, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for.

There’s a rustling sound behind you, leather and fabric being moved frantically, and then his fingers are gone, replaced by something thick and heavy spreading you open. You lift yourself up on the tips of your toes, trying to adjust, trying to lessen the burn, but he digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you back down, right onto him.

“Stay,” he orders. “Just … just take it.”

His words are slurred now, and your vision is blurry, your eyes wet from biting your lip so hard you can taste blood on your tongue. He rocks into you, and your nails scrape against the wood of your husband’s desk, leaving marks in their wake. But you do as you’re told.

“That’s better.” He bites your shoulder again and you gasp from the sudden burst of pain, gasp from the way you constrict around him in response. He laughs, a rumbling like thunder, then pushes your upper body against the wood, holding you down, one hand in your hair, the other firmly locking your hip in place.

Another bolt of lightning must have illuminated your face, turned sideways for him to see the trepidation in your eyes because he says, “Don’t cry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

You don’t know how to tell him that you’re not crying because you’re afraid of him. You’re crying because you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way, the last time sex wasn’t just a duty you had to fulfill but something someone wanted from you, and just from you, so much so he would abandon his duty to take what’s his. You don’t know how to tell him you’re terrified of what that discovery might mean for you and your marriage, how you’re hoping your husband is going to walk in right this very moment and free you from the bonds that bind you to him.

Acacius starts to lose control of his body then. He’s pushing himself up deeper and deeper into you, groaning louder with each thrust. You know those sounds, dread them when they’re coming from your husband, encourage them now with desperate whimpers of your own. He grips your hair again, pulls you up flush against his chest so hard you yelp with pain, fumbles with your tunic until he finds that bundle of nerves between your legs that he loved to kiss when you were both free to enjoy each other’s company. But it’s just for a brief moment he considers your pleasure before hitting the desk with his open palm, holding onto the wood, and letting go.

You close your eyes, waiting. It doesn’t take long for him to let out a sigh, to still deep inside of you. You can feel him twitch, you feel his hot release, but most of all you feel the sting of a promise broken. Your whole body is on edge, wound up, pulled taut, and there is nothing he’s going to do about it.

When he’s done, he pulls out of you and lets your tunic fall down around your legs. You turn to face him, your cheeks burning with shame, but his face is once again hidden behind all those shadows that come with a starless night.

“You wanted to take good care of me,” you point out, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I just did,” he says, running his thumb from the corner of his mouth along his bottom lip. “You’re mine now. Leave that between your legs for him to find.”

“Acacius …,” you try, a name once so familiar then so strange now growing familiar again.

He crowds you against the desk, chest to chest this time, and wraps his thick fingers around your throat. The kiss he presses to your lips is hard, devoid of all tenderness. “Mine,” he repeats. “Never forget that.” And then he’s nothing more than heavy footsteps against mosaic floors.

[dr-ground-zero]

Snowed in

Do i care if fall just started? No. I had this idea on my mind for too long so I had to do it. I don't think I've made a wav for this ship yet. I hope you all like it

[kykyonthemoon]

Comfort Sweets

Unable to contact you for hours, Zayne decides to bring a box of macarons to your place.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader|MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, soft fluff, sweets, comforting, emotional hurt & comfort, new established relationship

ಇ. Word count: over 1k

ಇ. Requested by Oreo.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Zayne stood outside your house one day. A few beads of rain remained on his shoulders and hair, but the box of macarons he cradled in his hands was completely dry. On the way here, he had stopped by the bakery and deliberately chose for you the lovely macarons in this box. He wondered if it would be too sudden if he came to visit you.

Zayne had only reconnected with you not too long ago. Over the time spent together, he could say that he had become closer to you. However, he did not dare to dream too much. You vanished unexpectedly the same day. You did not come to the hospital to see him as usual. You had not seen the messages he had sent you in the last several hours. Worried that something was wrong with you, he decided to come to your apartment to check on you.

After a time, the door opened. He sighed with relief as he saw you standing inside. Yet, you appeared exhausted with unkempt hair and a pale complexion. You were taken aback to see him here; perhaps it was not the best time to invite guests to your home. However, you kindly welcomed him inside. 

Zayne set the macaron box on the tea table in the living room. He noted your sluggish demeanor and how you avoided looking at him directly. He spoke up:

“I brought you some sweets. Perhaps it will help you feel better.”

"I'm okay." You dismissed it. You acted as if Zayne could not see your red and swollen eyes, which told him you had been crying a lot.

“You say you're fine, but you're still not in the mood for sweets?” 

Zayne sat down on the sofa, placing one hand on the empty mattress next to him and softly patting it. He waited for you to get down before opening the treat box. 

“There are chocolate, oranges, almonds, strawberries, blueberries, green tea too…” 

Zayne went through each macaron with different colors. Just looking at them would make a gloomy day brighter. You chose the one with your favorite taste but had yet to eat it. Zayne saw you clutching it in your hands and asked:

"What's wrong? Don't want to eat it?"

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne…” You replied, your voice still wavering slightly. “I'm just a little tired…”

He put a hand on your forehead. “Your temperature is a bit high, but it's not a fever.” 

You gave a soft smile, took his hand and held it. “I'm fine.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me then?” Zayne inquired, knowing you had something in your mind.

You glanced at him for a time and then said nothing. You ate the macaron in your palm and remained silent for a long time thereafter. 

Zayne stopped staring at you. He got up and went to the kitchen to get water for both of you. Even though he had only been here a few times, he could remember the correct places where you put your stuff in your apartment. He noticed some new decorations in the kitchen.

While fetching water, he kept an eye on you in the living room. The usually cheerful girl, who always appeared mighty and could talk for hours to his ear, had become curiously withdrawn. He wondered whether something had happened to put you in such a bad mood. Or did he inadvertently make you upset with his dry conversations, or did his hectic schedule keep him from being with you much?

Zayne was terrified that he might unknowingly push you away. He had never dated anybody before, and he had never poured so much love into one person like this. So he would be furious with himself if he said or did something that upset you by mistake.

Zayne returned to your side once you had finished eating the first macaron. Your expression had improved a little, but the silence was still like a knife slashing into his heart. He wanted to hold you in his arms so much. Did you need his comfort? Or did you just want to be alone, and his being here made you even more uncomfortable?

Zayne was ready to say something, but you were the one who broke the silence:

Thank you, Zayne. Thank you so much for coming here... Otherwise, I'm not sure how long I'd have been sitting here sobbing..."

You decided to share with him, at last. Zayne listened patiently as you expressed all of your inner emotions. You had just had an argument with a long-time friend, who went behind your back and did something terrible. Such treachery left you heartbroken. But when you told Zayne, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Emotions flowed out with words so naturally.

“The person who betrayed your trust is no longer worthy of your tears.” Zayne said, his hand reaching out to touch the corner of your teary eye. 

“Yes. I know... But I... I feel so sad and resentful..."

Zayne glanced at the open box of macarons on the table. “How about having one more? I know a girl whose mood would be brightened right away with just a little sweets, no matter how gloomy her day is."

You covered your face with both hands and grinned faintly. "That girl is so easy to coax!" But, in the meantime, perhaps a macaron isn't enough."

Zayne looked at you, unsure of what you were implying. Then you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your head on his chest. 

“She might need something even sweeter.” 

He heard your whisper. The corners of his mouth curled up as he patted your head. "That girl is quite difficult to coax. She wants sweets and cuddles all at once."

Zayne felt your arms tightening around him even more. You stated:

“The only person who can comfort her is Doctor Zayne!”

He smiled, tenderly like the way he was caressing your hair. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. The talented Hunter did have weak times like these, which made him beyond pleased to be your supporter. He continued:

“Then every time you encounter something unpleasant, let me know.Doctor Zayne will always be available to listen and comfort you.”

[incogrio]

이희승 - lee heeseung who…

heeseung bf hcs ~ gn!reader ~ genre: fluff

jungwon, heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, ni-ki

. heeseung who, if you’re in school, helps you with your homework and studying for tests

. heeseung who has you sit in his lap while playing video games, and explains mechanics in a soft voice

. heeseung who scrunches his nose up when you’re being cute or corny

. heeseung who shoves his hats on your head because he likes the way you look wearing his clothes

. heeseung who is extremely competitive, but cheats to help you win

. heeseung who asks you to buy different flavored chapstick so he can guess which one it is

. heeseung who shoves his head in your lap whenever he’s flustered

. heeseung who doesn’t really like talking about his trainee/i-land days

. heeseung who got jealous when you greeted yeonjun at the hybe practice room, claiming that you were there for him

. heeseung who immediately folded when you simply hugged him

. heeseung who squishes your cheeks, belly, thighs, arms, really anywhere can’t escape his pinches

. heeseung who purposefully acts super lovey dovey in front of his members to get them to groan and make parent comments

. heeseung who is almost always on his phone, just to make sure he isn’t missing a text from you

. heeseung who thinks that you are the flowers to his gloomy grass field, and has your contact name as “my flower”

. heeseung who has a ring hidden in his closet waiting just for you

comment, dm, spin around three times or strike a pose and i’ll add u to the tag list!

don’t forget your daily click!

requests, are like my dms, open <3

[devoted-to-colin-farrell]

Colin Farrell narrates Gloomy Eyes, the story of the sun who got tired of the humans and decided to hide and never rise again. It is an animated VR-series in 6DoF & 3D real-time.

[beomiracles]

Hii! I was wondering if you could do a Beomgyu fic where Beomgyu and the reader have been best friends their whole lives. They are now at college together. Beomgyu also could be kind of a bad boy, stoner, emo type. He could also be in a band or something. I would say the reader is much more soft and kind of the opposite of beomgyu. Maybe he is slightly jealous/possessive. Also dom beomgyu?? This would literally make me soooo happy! Could be a combo of angst, fluff, and smut! 🩷🩷

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... this one might be one of my favourites so far hehe !! the ending is a little abrupt but if I didn't end there I would've continued for forever I fear >.< those pictures of him got me acting different.

wc -> 2k

pairings grumpy!beomgyu x sunshine!reader warnings implied stoner!beomgyu, themes of jealousy, reader is kinda oblivious, best friends to ???, fingering, neck kisses, soft dom!beomgyu

“Hey! You joining us or not?” Your friend’s voice calls out and you tear your gaze from your phone screen as you blink up at him. “O-Oh yeah, I was just checking if Beomgyu was done..” — Your friend scoffs as he pulls you along to join the others, “that junkie?” He wonders and you frown, “he’s not a junkie.” None of your friend’s were particularly fond of your best friend. Beomgyu was easy to judge if you didn’t know him, you supposed. But that didn’t make their comments hurt less, though you knew he couldn’t care less for them. 

“I really don’t get why you insist on hanging out with him, you guys are polar opposites”, your friend continues as his grip on your waist grows firmer. “I…uhm, well we..” — “And he’s so touchy with you, don’t you think it’s weird?” Your lips part in protest and your frown deepens, but before you get the chance to defend yourself, he tugs you even closer, making you lose your balance as you cling to him. “Don’t you think you should surround yourself with people more like you?” He says before greeting the rest of your small friend group, earning himself a couple of confused glances from everyone as their eyes fell on his arm around you. Your face contorts into an awkward grimace as you subtly try and wriggle yourself from his grasp. 

“Are you guys ready to-” Your friend is quickly interrupted by the low clearing of a throat behind him. The familiar hand on your shoulder makes your head snap over to Beomgyu who was watching your friend with distaste. “Beomgyu!” You exclaim as you free yourself from your stunned friend’s now loose grip. Hurriedly skipping over to him, you link your arm around his as you smile up at him, “how was band practice?” Your question is disregarded by your best friend as Beomgyu’s gaze narrows down on your friend, his jaw clenching when he swallows. “It was fine.” He states without sparing you a glance, his arm previously linked with yours sliding down to wrap around your waist. 

Awkwardly clearing his throat, your friend avoids Beomgyu’s intense gaze as he turns back to the rest of the group. “A-Alright are we ready to head out..?” He splutters and everyone quietly nods as they subtly try to peer in the direction of your best friend. “We won’t be joining you.” Beomgyu states and you shoot him a confused glance before shifting back to your friend who watched you expectantly. “No I… I guess we won’t”, you say before Beomgyu pulls you away, a scowl on his face.

“Christ angel, why do you even hang out with them?” He mutters as you walk down the empty hallways of your college building. “They’re my friends”, you object, and as you turn left, your mind slowly pieces together where he was taking you. Beomgyu scoffs, but his grip on your waist remains firm as you walk hip to hip, “and him?” — You frown as you glance over to him, Beomgyu’s expression remained stern and almost gloomy as he kept his gaze fixated forward. “He’s also my friend.” You mumble as your eyes drop to the floor in front of you. “Didn’t look like it”, he snorts before you reach the staircase leading down to the basement. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question as you near the door by the end of the steps. Beomgyu rolls his eyes as his free hand fishes up a small key. “C’mon angel, don’t be daft, he was practically smothering you”, he grunts as he twists the metal in the lock, kicking the door open with his knee. 

“You touch me like that too though?” The statement slips past your lips without much warning and you feel him go stiff beside you. He doesn’t say anything as he leans over you to flick on the light, illuminating the familiar studio, filled with all kinds of instruments pushed up against the walls. “That’s different”, he huffs as he lets go of your waist. You watch him walk over to the collection of guitars before picking one out, a confused pout on your lips, how was it any different if you were all friends? 

Beomgyu liked playing for you, and you liked listening. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend hours down here after class ended, the soft hum of strings filling the room as you listened to him play. But today was different. — Beomgyu had barely finished his second song before he turned to where you lounged over on the small couch. “Come here”, he beckons you over and you slowly pull yourself from the couch. 

“What’s up?” You wonder as you reach him, awkwardly shifting by his chair. “Why don’t you try”, he says as he tugs you onto his lap. Startled by his sudden course of action you instinctively reach for his shoulder as you steady yourself. “Me? But I can’t play I..” Beomgyu shakes his head as he readjusts the guitar over your thighs, his arms brushing against yours. 

Swallowing a small gulp you glance down to the instrument in front of you, desperately trying to ignore his warm breath on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. “Place your hand here”, he guides your fingers to wrap around the neck of the guitar. “We’ll start with an easy chord”, he mumbles as he shows you how to position your fingers over the strings. “Don’t press down too hard, it’ll hurt.” You slowly nod as you let your fingers relax under his. 

Your breath hitches as you feel his other hand glide along your forearm, “here”, his voice is but a low murmur as he shows you how to flick your wrist along the strings. “You need to be light with your movement, put more pressure on the first few and then loosen it as you go.” — “O-Okay”, you whisper as you let your fingers drag along the fine chords. The small note sings out from the guitar, and you find yourself smiling at your small accomplishment as you turn to Beomgyu, immediately bumping noses with him. You hadn’t realized just how close he was. “A-Ah sorry”, you mumble before turning back to the instrument in your lap, your face scorching with color. 

Beomgyu’s face is practically next to yours as he leans forward, his chest pressing against your back. “Let’s try another one”, he muses as he helps you reposition your fingers once more. This time his light touch felt almost electric and it sparked a wildfire within your body and you resisted a shudder. — Not until the soft sounds of the guitar filled the room once more did you find yourself relaxing again. 

As he hums behind you, Beomgyu’s hands on top of yours move to rest on your waist instead, the simple and familiar touch somehow felt oddly sensual. “Try altering between the two chords”, he murmurs, his words dancing across your neck and you bite the inside of your cheek. “Like this?” You ask as your fingers switch back into their former position. The hands on your waist readjust their grip as Beomgyu leans back against the chair, “exactly.” 

The next few minutes are spent in silence, save for the occasional adjustment from your best friend as he redirects your fingers on the strings. Soon you’re able to play four chords and you alter between them as a melody slowly starts to build. — But as you’re about to master the fifth chord, Beomgyu’s once tender touch to your waist carefully spreads down the sides of your thighs. Your fingers on the guitar still as you peer at him through the corner of your eye. “Keep going”, he sighs, “you’ve almost got it.” 

You swallow as you turn your attention back to the guitar, your arms suddenly feeling weak as you grip it tighter. His warm hands on your thighs felt a lot different than any of his regular touches did and your mind struggled to focus on the task at hand as he drew small shapes on your skin, though never breaching past the hem of your skirt.

At first it was only the faint whisper of his breath across your neck, barely there but enough for you to recognize his even breathing, then it grew hotter, he suddenly felt closer, then his lips finally pressed against your skin and you felt your breath hitch, you know he felt it too. “Beomgyu, what are you…” He smirks against your neck before carefully planting another soft kiss, “keep playing.” 

You weren’t sure you would be able to, not when his warm mouth trailed over your skin, when his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, not to mention the bulge in his jeans that pressed against your ass through the flimsy material of your skirt. Was this really something best friends did? You had known Beomgyu for the greater part of your life, and while you had admittedly had a little girl crush on him during your pre teens, you never considered it to be something beyond that. — You and him were too different, right? 

“You okay, angel?” His husky voice breaks your train of thought, you hadn’t even realized that you’d stopped playing, or that his hands had slipped beneath your skirt. You blink, once, twice, three times as you meekly clear your throat. “Y-Yeah m’fine”, you chirp and Beomgyu chuckles against your skin. “Tell me if you’re not”, he then adds, suddenly sounding serious and you nod, your lips parting in surprise when his fingers dip inside the cotton of your panties. 

“Why don’t you try the fifth chord again?” He murmurs against your neck as he presses another open mouthed kiss to it, making you shudder. “Okay”, you whisper as you distract yourself by focusing on the strings before you. You’d almost gotten it when his fingers suddenly rubbed up against your clit. Immediately you lose whatever small sense of composure you had left as your thighs squeezed around his hand, a high pitched moan being pulled from your throat. 

His warm breath travels up to the shell of your ear and he gives it a feathery kiss. His voice felt soft against the side of your face when he spoke again, “you still okay?” — Biting your lip, you nod as you carefully glance over at him. He was watching you with a tender expression, his lips curved into a faint smirk as he let his fingers glide between your folds and you feel the color on your face intensifying. 

His gaze doesn’t waver as he pushes a finger inside, his eyes fixed on your reaction as your mouth falls open, breathless moans falling from your lips. “Have I ever told you that you’re pretty?” He murmurs as he curls his finger inside of you, making you squirm on his lap as you grip the guitar tightly in your hands. — “Y-you have..”, you stammered as a small whine passed your lips. Beomgyu often called you pretty, or cute, you thought it was something friends did. But he shakes his head before sliding a second finger inside your wet cunt. “No, not like that.” — “Pretty like…well pretty like this.” His eyes glimmer as he watches the way your eyebrows scrunched together, your eyes fluttering as you struggle to keep them open.

He looks almost to be debating with himself for a brief moment before finally leaning in to tenderly press his lips against yours. Your eyes widen, if only for a split second before they close as you reciprocate the kiss. — “Beomgyu”, you cry as his fingers brush past the small bundle of nerves that made you throb. He hums against you as his thumb circles your clit, “‘s okay, angel”, he reassures as he feels you clench around his fingers, your orgasm soaring through you and you shudder as you moan into his mouth. 

Was this something best friends did?    

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