#im half concerned and half bewildered

[thespaceoddities]

why does john watson from the shco podcast have such horrendous personal safety?? 'ill let in anyone who identifies themself as a fan' DR JOHN WATSON FOR A TRUE CRIME PODCASTER I BEG YOU TO BE MORE CAREFUL

[stxneflxwers]

pain reliever.

⋯⁂ summary. migraines. migraines never end.

⋯⁂ a/n. oh my god im so sick of being in pain someone just make it end-

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader in physical pain (migraines, light sensitive eyes). comfort. all lowercase. aventurine is now designated weighted blankie.

"another migraine, huh?"

aventurine chimes in, his voice soft as a feather – without its typical sassy and teasing edge, too. he stands behind you as you rest on the sofa in his penthouse, your sluggish body flush against the puffy back cushions. his hands rest on the tops of the cushions, caging either side of your head as he stares down at you, your head tilted back to look up at him.

of course, the seating is about as lavish and comfortable as it comes – you wouldn't expect anything less from your eccentric boyfriend.

"yup." you don't even nod, and your words are barely louder than a pained whisper.

"you poor thing," he coos, "here. take it." he offers his rose-tinted sunglasses to you, to help subdue some of the bright lighting coming from the ceiling.

you stare for a long, hard (and painful) moment at the sunglasses offered to you. without another moment thinking about if the rose-tinted lens will actually help with negating some pain, you take the accessory by its temples and slide them on. you then look up at him through the rosy glass, your eyes half-lidded and your expression droopy.

"adorable." he grins, a genuine one he reserves for you – only for you. "now, how about i look for some meds, huh? i bought some recently for times like these." he reaches out a gloved hand, intending on gently petting your head, but ends up holding himself back. his hand awkwardly hovers above your face before it rests back down on the sofa back.

"...you did that? for me?" you blink, eyes widening momentarily with knitted brows.

"i sure did. i can't have my favorite person being in debilitating pain every time i see them, yeah? it's no fun that way." he chuckles breathily before leaning down to press a chaste, feather-light kiss to your exposed forehead.

"i wouldn't call it debilitating, per se..." you drawl, but smile from his tender ministrations.

"well, we'll have to agree to disagree, then," he shakes his head. "i'll be right back. you try to rest some." he walks away, dimming the lights in the living room as he leaves to look for the medication he mentioned.

"thank you, vasha..." you mumble, watching him walk away – his stride holds significantly less bravado to it when it's just the two of you. it's...relaxed.

when he returns with two pills and a cup of cool water in hand, he finds you laying down on the sofa – curled up in a tight, little ball of..., well, pain. he hates seeing you in pain, much less so this frequently. but he masks his concern just enough to not make you worry about him being worried. it's almost ironic.

"hey," he whispers, voice even softer than earlier, "c'mon, time to take your meds~." he teases a little as he bends over enough to meet your scrunched up face, hoping to lighten your mood.

"alright, alright..." you grumble, "thank you, nurse." you tiredly grin at him before pulling yourself up into a seated but slouched position.

"aww, i bet you'd like to see me all dressed up like a cute little nurse, huh?" he jokes while handing you the pills and cup.

"...i will neither confirm nor deny that allegation." you scoff playfully, and then you take the medication as instructed – of course, you down all the water too. or else a certain gambler will get on your case.

"pfft, figures." he snickers, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, slinging an arm on the top of the back cushions.

after setting the empty cup down on the accessory table next to the armrest, you glance at him with weary eyes. but to him, it looks like you're about to beg for something–

"be my blanket."

perhaps "beg" was a poor word choice. that sounded far more like a demand.

"...your blanket...?" he blinks on repeat, looking somewhat bewildered.

"yes. lay on top of me." you blink back, but your expression lacks any sort of discernible emotion. "it's...comforting."

"well," he starts with an awkward, stiff chuckle, "if you insist. i'll gladly be your blanket, then." he smiles and shakes his head.

you lay on your back, opening your arms to him before he settles on top of you – he's the best height and weight to be a nice, warm weighted blanket. he rests his head on your chest as his body sits between your legs. you sigh in contentment, and you swear this is what real perfection feels like.

warm, safe, quiet.

[slytherinslut0]

theodore nott • may i have this dance?

info: smallish blurb for @thatdammchickennugget’s hogmarch challenge. prompt four. (i know im a day late lol sorry mari ily)

summary: theodore told everyone that dances weren’t his thing and decided he wasn’t going to attend the yule ball. when you agreed to go with cormac, he realized that he’d made a big mistake, and was there for you when you needed him most.

tags: soft and fluffy. shitty cormac per usual.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have damn well known that accepting Cormac's half-assed invitation to the Yule Ball was practically signing up for one thing and one thing only:

a one-way ticket to misery.

The sting of his abandonment wasn’t even the worst of it--though it did occur almost immediately, sneaky bloke somehow managing to slither off before Dumbledore even had the chance to make it to the podium to give the opening fucking speech.

Truthfully, you probably could have gotten over that. With enough drinks, that is.

The real kicker came after the bewildering manner in which he vanished into the ether. The moment he reappeared all the same, as if nothing had even happened, accompanied now by your ex-best friend, clinging to his arm like a fucking lifeline.

His smirk, so brazenly triumphant, seemed to stretch wider than the chasm between you, swallowing up his entire face in a painfully irritating display of mockery and betrayal as he shot you an infuriating wink from across the room, leading your friend through the crowd and into position for the first slow dance.

That was it. There was no goddamn way you were staying in that cursed room for even a millisecond longer.

If not for your ironclad resolve, you were fully convinced you would have set the entire room ablaze in a whirlwind of rage as you stormed out.

Yet, as you downed nearly half the flask of firewhiskey you had concealed beneath your flowing emerald green gown, a profound epiphany struck you: that wretched excuse for a human being didn't merit even a fraction of your emotional investment.

What he truly warranted, from the depths of your seething soul, was a resounding void of utter insignificance.

And with that realization burning in your chest, you pivoted on your heels and pushed your way through the throng, feigning ignorance to Pansy's concerned calls and Mattheo's mocking gaze as he reached out to grasp your arm, undoubtedly ready to ridicule you for being left high and dry before the first damn dance.

Your friends had warned you of this inevitable outcome, but your stubbornness had clouded your ears to their warnings.

You live and you learn, right?

"Wrong," Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Blaise, and Draco would have most definitely retorted in unison.

You could practically hear it in the recesses of your mind as you pushed through the large double doors and out into the warm spring breeze flowing through the corridor. They would have reminded you that sometimes it pays to heed the advice of someone who's walked the same path, that perhaps they were genuinely trying to watch out for you for once.

Of course, you would have simply scowled and rolled your eyes in response. You didn't need advice from anyone, definitely not them. Although…it certainly would have paid off to listen just this once…

Just then, in that fleeting moment of mental pondering, an intriguing thought popped into your mind;

Perhaps, just perhaps; you were the problem here.

…..No. Nope. Not even close.

You forcefully dismissed that nagging notion the very second it dared to intrude. No, you couldn’t, and simply wouldn’t entertain the idea that you were at fault here.

The reason you were making a hasty exit from the Yule Ball before the first dance had even commenced, the reason the echo of your black heels striking the cobblestones beneath them reverberated throughout the damp and desolate corridor, was solely because of Cormac.

If you were the problem, you’d be the one in there dancing with whomever you pleased, paying no mind to the feelings of others. Your Yule Ball evening was over. And not even the combined efforts of Godric Gryffindor, Professor Snape, Salazar Slytherin and Filch's bloody cat could have kept you from fleeing.

But in truth, if you were being completely real with yourself, you weren’t even all that bummed. A very large part of you didn’t even want to partake tonight.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that the man you longed to accompany the dance with had adamantly declared his aversion to such festivities, and simply decided not to attend.

But that’s neither here nor there at this point.

As you reached the threshold of the courtyard, your gaze fell upon the breathtaking scene unfolding before you: a moonlit evening enveloped in a torrential downpour, each raindrop hammering against the emerald expanse of grass with relentless force.

It was as tragically beautiful as it was suiting.

And as you were lost in the beauty of nature's fury, you were startled by a husky voice slicing through the stillness, calling out your name from down the hall. Nearly leaping out of your own damn skin, your head snapped to the side, your eyes meeting those of a tall, strikingly handsome Italian man striding purposefully towards you.

"Hey," Theodore called out, his voice gentle yet determined, "Wait up."

You rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Force of habit.

“I saw you leaving,” he continued, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you. “Are you okay?”

You met his concerned gaze with a raised eyebrow, a hint of sass colouring your reply, "don’t I look okay to you?"

Theodore's gaze caressed you, hunger evident in his half-lidded eyes as they roamed over your form with a blend of admiration and concern. Barely audible, a curse slipped from his lips in Italian before he locked eyes with you once more, a palpable shift in the intensity of his gaze.

"You look more than okay, Bella," he murmured, taking a single step closer. “Doesn’t mean you feel it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart quickening its pace in response to his proximity. As Theodore’s words washed over you, a shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with the heat of his gaze.

This was the man you’d longed to attend the dance with tonight. The one who swore he’d never take part in such idiocy. Standing before you, clad in an all black suit.

You didn’t even have a thought to question it—to question him—on what the hell he was doing here, dressed like that—because as you stood there, your temperature rising, you met his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within your own.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “but somehow…you make it hard to feel anything else.”

Theodore's lips curved into a knowing smile, and his tongue darted out to wet them, his eyes locking with yours in silent understanding.

"Then maybe," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "we should find a way to make you feel everything."

Your entire body froze in place as Theodore slowly extended his hand towards you, the world around you fading into insignificance as if time itself had paused, as if someone had cast a spell on the clock. Almost entirely speechless, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, the anticipation thick in the air as the distant strains of a slow dance song filtered through the corridor, emanating from the Yule Ball.

With a gentle smile, Theodore broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I have this dance?"

As your lips parted to respond, a whirlwind of emotions danced across your face, your eyes flickering between his outstretched hand and the captivating depths of his gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, your usually sassy self left utterly speechless, and with deliberate slowness, you surrendered your hand to his, relishing in the warmth that flooded your senses as he drawed you closer and into his embrace.

Theodore’s hands found their place on your waist with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer to him as if to reassure you of his presence. You reciprocated by resting your palms on his shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, its intensity seeping through the fabric of his suit jacket, igniting a tingling sensation in your fingertips.

You let your eyes trace a path up his strong chest, taking in the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was then that you noticed the emerald silk tie adorning his neck, its colour mirroring the rich hue of your dress almost perfectly.

Utterly mesmerized, you couldn’t comprehend the way this man had rendered you so bloody speechless. You’d never have expected any of this in a million years.

Finally, you managed to exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, “you…you matched my dress…”

Theodore’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“Only because I knew you’d be wearing it,” he replied, his voice warm, a soft caress against your skin. “Cormac is a fucking idiot.”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the soothing melody of the rain and the gentle hum of the slow dance tune. You blinked, looking up at him through your lashes, finding yourself lost in the depth within the ocean of his eyes.

“You knew he’d ditch me,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft cadence of the music. As you watched Theodore’s eyes trace the curve of your lips, a flicker of realization dawned upon you. “You were betting on it.”

“I knew you deserved better,” he murmured, a soft swallow rippling through his throat as he spoke, his eyes shimmering beneath the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-soaked courtyard. “And I was hoping you’d see it too.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” you whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You thought back on the advice from the others. All those times Theo was quiet, just watching. Listening.

Theodore’s expression softened, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you have listened, Bella?”

You could feel the subtle tension dissipate as Theodore's touch lingered on your cheek, and with a gentle swallow, you met his gaze, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you considered his question.

"Perhaps not," you replied, your voice as teasing as the grin gracing your lips. “I am quite stubborn, aren’t I?”

Theo chuckled, and you were going to leave it at that, remain silent and enjoy the moment for what it was, but as your eyes found his once more, a surge of honesty flooded your senses, rendering you momentarily breathless. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips curved up while donning that devilish smirk of his, the sensation of his thumb brushing against your cheek—it was simply all too much to ignore.

"But, you should know,” you confessed softly, "I truly only wanted to go with you."

Theodore blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise at your admission, as if he hadn't expected you to voice your feelings so openly. But there was no denying the electricity crackling in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had lingered beneath the surface for far too long. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your face closer to his, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Dances have never really been my thing, Bella..." his voice, a mere whisper, sent your limbs shuddering with nerves. Your fingers trembled slightly against his shoulders, the only anchor keeping you grounded in the intensity of the moment. "But I'd slow dance across the entire castle with you if you asked..."

Leaning closer, Theodore's breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his words sending a shiver down your spine. As he leaned closer, you could hear the subtle hitch in his breath, the tremor in his exhale.

"I was a fool...” as he hovered inches from your lips, you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the tension between you reaching its breaking point. “…for not mustering the courage to ask you myself.”

You wet your lips, your eyes bouncing all over his face, your entire body trembling with urgency, with need, with hunger. You’d hardly even heard his words at this point.

“Tell me, Bella…." he breathed, the words longing for an absolution only you could grant him. “Will you ever manage to forgive me?”

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned as close as you could possibly get, your lips just barely grazing against his, savouring the moment for every bloody second it had.

"Kiss me," you murmured through a grin, your voice barely above a whisper, "and perhaps…just perhaps, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."

With that, he dipped low, two strong hands finding your face, capturing your lips with his, and you sighed, lids closing, reaching to forage into his hair. A soft exhale escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he cradled your head, holding you closer, his other hand falling to support your neck, thumb skimming your jaw.

You whined, joy glowing in your chest, and you eased against his body, the both of you melting into each other, melting into the moment, the sound of the rain and the rhythmic tune of the slowdance fading away in the foreground.

And as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, Theodore's eyes met yours again, blue orbs shimmering brighter than the moon.

"I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you," he vowed softly, urging your head to rest gently against his chest. "Starting with this dance."

[pumpkinmetaphor]

im pretty sure its a running joke in the kyokao fandom that they actively make each other worse which i think is absolutely hilarious (because like, yeah annoying capitalist x annoying capitalist) but what are some of the ways you think they improve each other? :D /gen

Great question!

I think Kyoya makes Kaoru more ambitious. Kaoru is smart enough to skirt by most of the time without much effort or forethought. I would not hesistate to believe that he and Hikaru are only doing like half their subjects and then taking tests for each other. I also think Kaoru is immature and nebulous about the future and what he wants from it.

Someone like Kyoya, who is very goal oriented and future focused would be somewhat of a motivating factor. Hikaru and Kaoru's decision to go to Tokyo University is more triggered by Haruhi and Nanako than Kyoya's still pending decision to stay in Boston, but I think Kyoya seeing what he wants and going for it is impressive. I think Kaoru would take his work more seriously, maybe take more of an interest in the business side of things if Kyoya made it more fun.

Meanwhile, I think Kaoru would motivate Kyoya to reevaluate what he thinks freedom means. Freedom is Kaoru's family motto and something Kyoya strives for and thinks he has- but has he? I think in the same way Tamaki makes him reevaluate the box his father has put him in, Kaoru would help recontextualise that a bit more. Yes, you don't have to be trapped in the expectations of your birthright, but maybe you don't need to be beholden to anyone's expectations of you- Kyoya himself said it doesn't matter as long as the people he cares about knows who he is, so maybe he should live by that instead.

The host club in general convinces Kyoya to have a bit more fun, but I think even Kaoru's specific situation- overshadowed by his elder brother, possibly disinherited due to reasons unrelated to merit- and the fact that Kaoru would be entirely unbothered by it would allow Kyoya to maybe reevaluate his options and pick ones that allow him that freedom. After all, those who live freely are the winners, right? And Kyoya wants to win.

I think this "Kaoru makes Kyoya a freer spirit" stops slightly short of Kaoru getting him on a motorbike at any point.

Basically, I think they mellow each other out. Kaoru works harder, Kyoya becomes less of a workaholic. Kaoru becomes a little more self-possessed, Kyoya becomes a little bit freer.

I also think, as me and @pilindiel were only discussing earlier, they mesh pretty well with each other's anxieties. They're two people who believe that they can only be love for the mask they put on, and two people who quite easily see through each other's masks. As long as the people you care about know who you are, nothing else matters- is as much about Kaoru as it is about Kyoya. It's an inadvertant, egotistical admission by Kyoya that he does know who Kaoru is and Kaoru does care about him, and vice a versa. Platonically, and bewildering to Kaoru at this point, but important nonetheless. Kyoya proves his point by even saying it and articulating it as a viewpoint that Kaoru would share- because he does know who Kaoru is, and nothing else about it matters.

But yeah, Kyoya believes that it is more important for the people he cares about to know him than it is for them to love him. And Kaoru is kind of into the whole evil scheming ambition thing so that negates that concern. And Kaoru meanwhile is terrified of being made obsolete and being left behind. Which is negated somewhat by Kyoya being the kind of guy with the dedication to stick to his convictions, one of which he has decided is the perpetuity of the host club. And one would be Kaoru too, of course.

Also just tacking on at the end because I'm rambling too much. I think Kyoya would make Kaoru more independent-- something Kaoru already strives for a bit more of, but there's nothing like giving someone a reason not to share a bedroom with their sibling anymore as that final push. And I think Kaoru would encourage Kyoya to be less self-isolating, less of a lone wolf. Mainly because he likes getting into other people's business. Kaoru loves teamwork <- freak.

[wyatt-writes]

Your Glasses ?

Miguel ohara x bottom male reader

This contains: Fluff, established relationship, short fic. Yes starting off wholesome. Maybe a cover up because I suck at smut but no one has to know.

Im starting off my blog with my stuff I have on Wattpad @ trygonaize or Wyatt

It was a beautiful day in Nueva York, my universe, with the sunshine and breeze lifting my spirits. The recent string of gloomy days made today's clear skies even more enjoyable. I was eager to spend this beautiful day with Miguel. However, dating Spider-Man meant he was often busy, a trade-off I had to accept. Still, I longed for time together with my boyfriend. Who wouldn't?

Unable to resist, I grabbed my phone to text Miguel about my plans. When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he was tied up with work. Then, I texted him on the watch he gave me for emergencies, knowing he'd see it.

Me: Hey Miguel I wanted to see if you were free today because I want to hangout and you weren't answering your phone

Miguel: Yeah babe I'm free. Not right now that's why I didn't pick up but I'll be at your house soon.

Me: Okay, luv ya

Miguel: Love you too, more than you know mi vida.

I smiled at his last text, savoring his words. Each "I love you" from Miguel was a treasure, more cherished than a simple heart emoji her usually reply with. Feeling energized, I decided to freshen up. I chose shorts, a collared t-shirt, and the necklace Miguel gave me for our anniversary. After styling my hair a bit, I lay down on my bed to plan our day.

Experience had taught me that Miguel's "soon" often meant I had some time. So, I started scrolling through my phone for ideas. Eventually, I stumbled upon an ad for a theme park. It sounded like a blast, so I went ahead and booked the tickets. Now, all that was left was to wait for Miguel to arrive. To pass the time, I scrolled through Instagram and even learned a dance or two to my favorite song on TikTok. Before I knew it, hands snaked around my waist.

"Don't even use the door anymore?" I said playfully.

"Do I need to?" Miguel chuckled.

"Just stop creeping up on me," I said, slipping out of his grip.

"Mmhm, so what are we doing today, amor?" Miguel asked, his hands finding their way back around my waist.

"We're going to the theme park, and you can't say no because I already bought the tickets," I replied with a smug grin, showing him the tickets.

"You know I'll never say no to you," Miguel stated.

"That's what I like to hear. Now get off me and go wash up. Who knows what universe you've been in," I joked, half-seriously.

"Alright, alright. I have to listen to whatever my Príncipe says," Miguel finished as he walked off to shower.

I settled on the couch, getting caught up in whatever show was on TV. Time flew by, and soon Miguel was coming down the hallway. I gestured for him to follow me out the door.

"Wait a sec," Miguel said, sounding worried.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned.

"My glasses," Miguel stated. I tried to hold back my laugh but failed.

"Y-your glasses?" I said between giggles.

"This is no laughing matter," Miguel insisted. "I'm not leaving without them."

"I'm sorry, but since when did you wear glasses?" I laughed.

"I've always had them; I- just don't wear them," Miguel said.

"So why do you need them now? We're going to a theme park," I questioned, confused about why he suddenly wanted to wear them.

"Because..." Miguel trailed off nervously. I looked at him, bewildered. "Because I heard you on the phone one day."

"Oh my god," I muttered to myself, realizing he was talking about the time I told my best friend that men with glasses were a turn-on.

"So you're looking for them now to impress me?" I asked.

"Maybe..." Miguel admitted reluctantly, his pride holding him back. I walked up to him, cupping his face in my hands.

"Babe, I'll always love you no matter what you look like. I didn't think something like that would get to you. I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

"I know, [name], but sometimes I'm scared I'm not enough. I haven't been the best boyfriend, and I know you wish I could be there more, and I—" I interrupted his rambling with a kiss.

"It's okay, Miguel, because I love you. You're my one and only. Forever and always," I spoke softly.

"I-I love you too, mi vida," Miguel responded, his appreciation evident in his eyes.

Word count 792

A/n : hope I did good enough Ik it's short but there's more to come soon!

[reds-writings]

i love your blog more than i’ve loved anything on earth before.. can you maybe write something about 1995 rust and reader working a late night together and taking an awkward and romantically charged truck ride to the bar together?? oh im a fool for some good old yearning. hope you’re doing well i love what ya do

ahhh! thank you so much! i too love some good ol' yearning so i whipped some up quick! enjoy, darlin! (this takes place in the middle of the first of many and the start of something new and jj)

“We oughta call it a night.” Your voice rang out in the empty space of the precinct. It had to be bordering nine thirty and your body was begging for release from your hunched-over position, having been pouring over a surplus of articles for the past couple of hours. The slope of Rust’s shoulders jerked slightly as if forgetting where he was or that you had decided to hang back with him in the first place.

“Time is it?” He rumbled out, using the heel of his palm to rub at a tired eye. 

“9:37. You good to drop me off still?” You replied after a quick glance at your wrist. Your truck was still in the shop but you couldn’t complain much if it meant being around Rust a little extra. 

“Don’t worry about it. Sleep decides when it wants to find me. Even then it never really takes hold.” The casual admittance threaded with his perplexing way of describing what troubles him would never fail to bewilder you. 

“Well…if you ain’t sleepin’ anytime soon could you be persuaded to stop for a drink on the way back? My treat.” 

Rust had the humor to snort, a sharp and haughty sound, “If the company you keep makes a lady pay then they’re shit.” 

“The company I keep mostly nowadays consists of Marty and the feral cat taking up residence in my yard every now and then.” 

“Therein lies the problem.”

‘He likes to be spoiled. What can you do.” You shrugged playfully while beginning to gather your things. 

“The cat or Marty?” That finally made you shoot out a laugh and he squashed down the distant desire to preen at your amusement. 

Not fun outside of parties. Fuck you, Marty. 

“We’ll grab a drink or two.” He relinquished. You pumped a fist in the air in a small celebration of victory with a hushed hiss of a ‘yes!’ The day was long and you could use a beer paired with the continued company of the wiry enigma. 

As you mosied over to his truck and hopped in you batted your lashes in what dramatic fashion you could muster through your fatigue, “Free drinks and the voluntary companionship of Mr. Cohle? Gee, did I strike lucky-”

“I don't recall sayin' free.” He lit a cigarette with one hand and began to steer out of the lot with the other. It was concerning how such a mundane act could start to get you all hot and bothered. 

“With you stickin' your nose in my business about what friends I do and don’t have they became free, I believe there was the implication of mighty disdain towards makin’ a lady pay.” A dainty finger wagged in his direction.

“I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of a lady-” The swat of your quick hand at his arm served as an interruption to his bullshitting. He was funny. When he wanted to be. Maybe not hardly ever but sometimes the mood struck whenever the stars decided to align just right. You thought it foolish to think the odds were specifically in your favor during moments like these but seeing him even a little bit at ease couldn’t hold you back from running right into the arms of said foolishness itself. Marty would dub you delusional. He could also kiss your ass.

Plain and simple.

“Because of your outright boorishness, I will be demanding some top-shelf finery tonight.” You half-sassed while he blew smoke from his sloped nose at your theatrics. The way you could go from suppressed and professional to the feisty spitfire sitting beside him now would soon throw him on his ass sooner than preferred. His liability to stop it was growing weaker with each car ride despite everything in his mind screaming to bring it to a severe halt. He wanted you far away from him but wanted you in constant proximity a hairsbreadth more.

“Low shelf. Maybe.”

“Top or bust. Consider it initiation as my new form of company. Just how it goes, friend.” You jokingly admonished and it was considered final.

Friend. He detested the warmth that took siege over his being.

[sodrippy]

one of these days i need the full story of your dnd mishap

😭😭😭 please

the short story is our party had three people (2 players + DM) who thought we were playing a fun friendly magical campaign and two people who wanted to recreate a critical role campaign amongst themselves...i think if youre familiar w cr you might immediately see the issue there.

long story is people put WAY way too much personal shit into their characters and almost immediately started taking the actions of characters as genuine irl slights and like. two sessions in had already lost sight of the difference between the pc and the player.

oh shit this got really long im sorry i dont think you care This much but i havent thought about it in a while and it bewilders me every time-

SO i was playing a cunty rogue and had TOLD everyone 'hey she is probably gonna clash w the party at first, but she'll warm up to everyone really fast, so dont worry about that' like it was clearly in the spirit of building a realistic character who had her own hangups etc. which i assumed the others would understand bc they'd done the same. plus is it not boring and unreal asf if a bunch of strangers meet after a murder of someone close to them and all just get along immediately w no suspicions or secrecy? cmon man.

and yet. the two cr-people got really weird about my pirate character stealing (???) and sincerely pulled the dm aside to express their concerns about the 'level of violence being enacted' and asked that we all try to be aware of what class of people we did crimes against. like. they wanted me to stop stealing from the 99% and ask everyone if they were rich before i picked their pocket ig. ALL THE WHILE. ONE OF THE OFFENDING PCS WAS IN THE MAFIA?????? LIKE. DIRECTLY EMBEDDED IN THE MAFIA THAT RAN THE TOWN.

i suppose that pc was off the hook bc he did possess the elf cock that the other guy wanted so bad, so. love won. i guess.

anyway they ended up taking hours out of our sessions to just dialogue-rp about slowly falling in love in a complex way or something. except then the non-elf player was like 'actually, dm, can you give me a love interest npc i need to add more depth to my character.' or smth, to which our dm lovingly crafted a beautiful working class hero of a guy. which the pc proceeded to hard reject. what was the point of any of this? we may never know<3

need to be clear as well this was all happening over discord bc we all live in different timezones, my very close friend was up at 2AM for this bullshit every week. AND he didnt even KNOW these other people very well, but suddenly theyre finding fault w not just his character but him as a PERSON? i just rmrd they accused him of like.....negatively influencing me??? like. MORALLY???? brother we have been friends for 10 years you are nothing to us you dont know us like that lol.

but they did REALLY really hate my character, which eventually made me feel like shit all the time bc like. obviously im putting work into her, its a creative construction and to have it railed against that badly is not fun. so i said ok you know what, ill just make a new character, hopefully thatll keep the peace and we can salvage this.

so i pitch a new character and oh they LOVE her. they fucking love her concept. which was so.........the first character was a lot easier for me to play bc she was a little more like me, and this character was specifically the opposite....how am i meant to take that reaction, yknow

which also reminds me: the original pirate rogue i played was a tiefling (yeah yeah gay stereotype i know. im not subtle or original, whatever) and there was a complaint (made only half-jokingly, ykwim) that she was too white.

shes not even HUMAN what the fuck do you mean shes too WHITE. IM not white that should imbue any character i create w an inherent not-whiteness. but even still, again, she is half sea creature. shes not. human. to be assigned a race like that....hello??

anyway so these two cr-rp players eventually blocked me and my friend on tumblr without saying anything, and got confused when we found out and said 'yeah ok we dont wanna play dnd with some guy who has blocked us on other social media' as if WE were the weirdos. like they saw no problem w continuing this disastrous campaign as long as they got their mandatory monologue time.

the worst part is my dm made SUCH a stunning campaign and world and it was so so so fun outside of this mess, i still feel really bad they never got to realise the world fully. plus my character had a sickass backstory thing where she was like. slowly unlocking latent magic the longer she spent underwater bc her demon parent was abyssal and stuff. which is whatever but the sick part is she was developing SCALES and maybe GILLS. in like a nasty gorey way it was gonna be so cool. but noooo lets talk about strange morality and your lameass god for 1.5 hrs. at 11pm on a friday.

[teddywrites0]

Can’t Catch Me Now (c.b)

Now playing: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo.

summary: he sees your face in every place, haunted by the memories of your separation. what happens when you cross paths again? ex!beomgyu fem!reader, exes to lovers?

warnings: cursing, mentions of therapy, angst with happy ending, mentions of nightmares.

word count: 4.0k

a/n: i fear i will never stop writing stuff based on songs.

“beomgyu? beomgyu?” he jumped awake, scooting backward until his back hit the headboard, eyes wide, he looked bewildered. “you were shouting in your sleep again.” yeonjun said, voice laced with concern. he moved to sit on the edge of beomgyu’s bed, “was it about her?” beomgyu’s pounding heart began to settle, he nodded. “are you sorry?” it sounded like her voice. beomgyu looked at him, tears welling in his eyes, “w-what?” — “i said are you okay?” his knuckles were turning white from the force he was gripping his sheets, “yeah, yeah i’ll be alright.” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than his concerned roommate. “you should go to your classes today.. it’s been months.” yeonjun said, looking about the room. it was a mess, clothes everywhere, empty wrappers on the nightstand, old photographs spread all over his desk. “the guys miss you, and i don’t want you to lose your degree over some girl.” beomgyu furrowed his brows, “some girl?” he questioned. “n-no i didn’t mean it like that listen.. just come today and if you can’t handle it you don’t have to go monday.” beomgyu nodded. “it’s not like she’ll be there.” he muttered.

beomgyu pulled his hood over his head, hanging it low as he put his headphones in. yeonjun had offered to drive him, but he decided he’d walk. he passed by buildings, avoiding the sight of them, avoiding the memories. he reached the part of the route where it was all rural, nothing but grass and trees and the autumn leaves that crunched below his feet. only then did he pick his head up, trying to take in the beauty of the fall morning. then he saw you standing by a tree, looking right at him. his heart quickened, panic setting in, until you disappeared in thin air, reminding him that it’s just apart of the grieving process. but isn’t it unfair to grieve someone who’s still alive? he still found courage to walk into class, resting his head on the desk. whispers and stares came from everyone in the lecture hall. he payed no attention drowning it out with the music that was blasting way too loud in his ears. there was a light tap to his shoulder, it was yeonjun. he took out the ear buds, stuffing them into his pocket. “everyone’s staring.” he said flatly. “they’re gonna stare, the most notorious couple broke up, and you haven’t been here in three months.” beomgyu rolled his eyes, leaning over to fish his notebook out of his bag. “i saw her again.” he whispered, yeonjun sighed, “your therapist said it’s normal to have visions when you’re grieving.” beomgyu balled his fists, “don’t say grieving she’s not dead.” — “she might as well be.” a girl interrupted, giggling with her friends. “yunjin don’t you have better things do to? like i don’t know.. sleep with half of the soccer team?” beomgyu snapped. her friends went silent, most covering their mouths with their hands. “excuse me?” she shouted, standing up. “yunjin sit down, okay everyone! let’s continue our lesson on..” the professor interrupted, and that was when beomgyu tuned out every voice, zoning out until everyone was already packing their bags and heading out of the class. “c’mon let’s go you have econ, im walking you.” yeonjun said.

you stepped out onto the terminal, searching for a familiar face. you gripped your luggage in one hand, guitar case in the other. then you spotted her, your best friend, the one person you weren’t afraid of seeing in your return. she ran to you, opening her arms as she pushed herself into you, wrapping them around you. “chae.” you said in relief. “y/n.” she pulled away cupping your cheeks in her hands. “you haven’t changed.” she said tears pooling into her eyes. “it’s been three months not three years.” you said chuckling, holding back your own tears. “well it felt like three years.” she said wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “besides, my hair is a bit a longer.” you joked. she scoffed, “you really haven’t changed.” she led you to the airport cafe, carrying your suitcase for you. “just an iced chai please.” you ordered, chaewon side-eyeing you in confusion. the two of you settled into a booth, “no flat white?” you shook your head laughing slightly. “no i don’t drink coffee anymore.” she furrowed her eyebrows, “is that like an american thing?” she asked. you giggled, “no it’s just.. apparently it stunts your growth.” she smiled, “i’m glad america didn’t change you.” you pursed your lips into an awkward smile. you took a sip of your drink, suddenly feeling the urge to ask, “how is he?” she looked down, “i don’t know, he hasn’t been to school since.. since you left.” — “oh.”

you gazed out the window, passing by the familiar buildings. “your room is still the same, i didn’t let anyone touch anything.” chaewon said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “that’s good. how’s miso?” the girl behind the wheel giggled, “your child is fine, she slept outside your door every night.” you smiled, “poor girl.” she laughed, and before you knew it you were turning into your apartment complex. you trudged up the steps, the two of you struggling to carry everything. once you finally made it into the apartment, the familiar scent of your favorite fall candle hit your nose. “miso!” you said excitedly, setting down your guitar case to greet the cat that was pawing at your leg. she mewled, leaning into every pet. “i missed you.” you cooed. you stood back up, helping chaewon carry your things into your bedroom. your finger tips glided across the spines of the books on your shelf, everything was still the same. “so you’re going back monday right?” she asked leaning against the door frame. “yeah, this weekend i want to let loose a bit you know? do something fun.” her eyes brightened, “well that’s good news because..” she said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her tote bag. “what’s this?” you asked as she handed it to you. “i spoke to that guy, kai i think his name was? anyways, he wants you to perform at his dads bar. he said your sound is perfect for the aesthetic or whatever that means.” you unfolded the paper, a hand written invitation signed ‘huening kai’. “so like a hipster bar?” she giggled, “that’s what i said, but he looked offended..” the both of you burst into laughter. “yeah i guess i’ll do it, do you have his number or does he communicate strictly through carrier pigeon?” more laughter followed.

“guys wait up!” kai called after beomgyu and yeonjun. “hey what’s up?” yeonjun asked. “saturday- well i guess technically tomorrow, my dad has some local performers playing. you should come!” beomgyu immediately shook his head, “i just barely got through my first day back. i seriously can’t handle getting wasted right now.” they reached yeonjun’s car, “then don’t drink! listen.. i want you to have fun. if you haven’t been at school these past few months, i can imagine you haven’t been anywhere else either.” beomgyu’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “i think he’s right. if you feel overwhelmed we’ll just do what your therapist said..” — “okay fine i’ll go,” he said raising his voice, he then leaned over to whisper to yeonjun, “and don’t talk about that shit in front of other people.” kai stood there awkwardly, “i should go, see you guys tomorrow!” beomgyu opened the passenger door, slamming it after he got in. yeonjun shook his head, opening the drivers side and settling in. “therapy isn’t something to be ashamed of beomgyu.” he turned the key into the ignition. “maybe i should be ashamed of it, it’s my fault i’m there in the first place.” he mumbled. “yeah well you’re not gonna get better if you don’t apply yourself.” the drive home felt slow, like time was paused. they were reaching a green light when he saw you again, “stop the car. yeonjun stop the fucking car!” yeonjun hit the breaks, annoyed drivers honking behind them. just like that.. you were gone. “beomgyu what the fuck? someone could’ve hit us!” yeonjun continued to drive, many people cutting in front of them honking their horns. beomgyu sat there, eyes wide, mouth agape.

when they got to their shared apartment beomgyu rushed to the couch, curling up into the corner, and he began to cry; he began to sob. “hey.. hey what is it?” yeonjun knelt in front of him. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry you have to deal with this, with me.” yeonjun shook his head “beomgyu..” — “no yeonjun! i’m burdening you! i don’t want to take you down with me!” yeonjun pulled himself up, sitting beside beomgyu, pulling him to his chest. “you’re not a burden. you’re my best friend, and you’re hurting and it’s okay to be hurt.” beomgyu sobbed into his chest, “i shouldn’t have said those things to her.. i can’t- i can’t escape her, but at the same time i want to chase after her. she’s everywhere, but she’s not really there.” yeonjun rubbed his hand over beomgyu’s back, “it’s gonna be alright. go lay down okay? you probably need rest, im sure it was stressful to go back today.” beomgyu rubbed his eyes, heading to his bedroom. he laid down, hugging his pillow to his chest. “i’m not the selfish one beomgyu, you are! this is important to me! this is a big opportunity!” he scoffed, “you’ve had offers here! you really think moving to another continent will be any different?” you shook your head, “this just proves it to me..” —“proves what to you y/n? proves what?” you balled your fists, holding back tears. “that if you loved me you’d support me!” the sound of glass shattering echoed in the room, “shit- y/n i’m sorry.” you bent down, picking up the pieces of your bedside lamp. you stood up slowly. “get the fuck out!” — “no no i’m not leaving! i’m not leaving.” yeonjun shook him awake, “it’s just a bad dream.” beomgyu held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. “what time is it?” he asked. yeonjun checked his phone, “five thirty, let’s order some take out yeah?” beomgyu nodded, feeling lightheaded from his short nap.

“i texted kai, im playing at seven tomorrow.” you said as you set chaewon’s takeout box in front of her. “that’s awesome, you have a song picked yet?” you nodded, pulling your own takeout out. “that program really helped me, i learned a lot.” she smiled, “as if you could get any better.” you shook your head chuckling, “there’s always room to get better, to learn more.” you ate mostly in silence, you liked that about your friendship, you were always comfortable in each others silence. “y/n?” you looked up, “yeah?” she cleared her throat, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay, i know you miss him.” you sighed, “it’s just- he scared me that day you know? i worried that if i stayed even after that, it could’ve gotten worse.” chaewon nodded, reaching to hold your hand across the table. “i get that, i spoke to yeonjun before you landed this morning, he’s um.. he’s not doing very well.” you looked down, “he doesn’t know i’m back?” she shook her head. “if he wouldn’t have gotten so angry, if he would’ve listened, he would’ve known.” she rubbed the back of your hand with her thumb, “i know, but guys are stupid. i know you loved each other.” you sighed, picking up your takeout box to throw it away. “i still do.” when chaewon said she didn’t touch your room, she really meant it. your bedside lamp remained shattered on the floor. you groaned, flopping down onto your bed face first. ‘i’ll clean it in the morning’ you thought. before you knew it you were asleep, twitching occasionally. “how is she?” yeonjun asked. chaewon held the phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she wiped down the counters. “she’s good.. physically. i just called to let you know she’s here, im sure she wouldn’t mind seeing you.” she heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “i would love to, but beomgyu’s still super messed up about it. i don’t want him to find out i saw her without telling him. i mean if he would’ve let her explain we wouldn’t be here right now.” chaewon grabbed the phone moving it to her other ear as she disposed of the paper towel. “would you like to talk to her at least?” she asked. “that’d be nice.” she knocked on your door gently, “y/n?” you woke up slowly, “come in.” she entered, phone still up to her ear. “i’m sorry to wake you, yeonjun’s on the phone.” you felt your heart beat quicken as you took the phone from her. “hello?” — “hey y/n.” you smiled softly, “does he know you called?” you asked voice slightly trembling. “no he’s uh, he’s asleep right now. that’s all he’s really been doing lately.” you took in a shaky breath, trying to hold the flow of tears you’ve held back for three months, “i don’t want him to be hurt.” the truth is in the beginning, you did want him to be hurt. you thought he deserved it, but hearing how he’s been after asking everyone strictly not to update you while you were away, you really didn’t want him to be hurt. “i know y/n, he’d hate for me to tell you this but he’s been seeing a therapist. i thought it would help him considering his history with nightmares when his parents split.” hearing he was in therapy made you feel slightly better, maybe he can get better without you.

“i’ll see you monday, bye.” yeonjun hung up the phone, he didn’t want to keep the fact that you were back from beomgyu; but he’ll know when you return to school monday. unless he sees you sooner than that. beomgyu didn’t have a nightmare that night, he woke up feeling decent. which was saying something because everyday since you left he woke up with chest pain, curtesy of his broken heart. it was saturday, and he was dreading going to kai’s fathers bar later that night. he didn’t want to socialize, he wanted to do what he did every night, look at old pictures and stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep. he barely touched his phone, never talked to anyone but yeonjun. he didn’t even play video games. “hey i’m gonna run to the grocery store wanna come with?” yeonjun asked, peaking his head into beomgyu’s room. “sure.” he pulled the same hoodie he always wore over his head, it was yours, one that you had left at his apartment. he thought it might be good to go with yeonjun, he didn’t have that bad of a day at school so maybe this was a step forward. that was until they arrived, and he saw a familiar silhouette. “chaewon?” she turned around after placing a box of cereal into her cart. “b-beomgyu? hi!” she greeted. she looked him up and down, noticing his weak state. “i was at school yesterday.. must’ve missed you.” she smiled awkwardly, “oh i uh didn’t go, i had to help a friend.” his eyes scanned the items in her cart, all of your favorite snacks and drinks. “how is she? is america treating her well?” he asked, trying to keep calm. “she’s good.” she said seemingly uncomfortable. yeonjun put his hand on beomgyu’s shoulder reassuringly. “well i have to checkout now, it was nice seeing you!” she said before rushing toward the checkout. “that was weird.” beomgyu muttered.

beomgyu looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the belt on his jeans. “apologize.” he heard your voice, looking in the reflection he saw you sitting on the foot of his bed. he turned around quickly, but you weren’t there. he shook his head, grabbing his phone before heading into the living room. “you ready?” yeonjun asked, getting up from the couch. he nodded, heading to the front door. kai greeted them at the entrance, leading them inside. it was nice, dim lighting, main bar near the entrance, tables and booths in front of the bar, and a small stage. it was packed, filled with locals, and people in suits. beomgyu assumed they were scouters, there to see who they could scoop from that stage and give a big name. he scoffed. the last time someone he knew was scouted his life went downhill, he lost you. “you guys can take a seat at the bar, im going to greet everyone, thank them for coming, and then i’ll sit with you for the performances.” kai said before heading into the seating area. “this place is nice.” yeonjun said, trying to brighten beomgyu’s spirits. “i guess.” yeonjun shook his head, then called over the bartender, “two waters please..” beomgyu interrupted, “one water and a jack and coke.” the bartender nodded. “dude if you drink it’ll make you feel worse.” beomgyu chuckled, “well at least you’re my designated driver.” the drinks arrived shortly along with kai. “so what do you think of the place?” he asked sitting on the other side of yeonjun. “it’s not as under ground as i thought it would be, i mean there’s scouters everywhere.” beomgyu scowled. “if it makes you feel any better they weren’t invited, they just kind of show up.” kai reasoned.

you were a bit jittery back stage, avoiding looking at the crowd. “you’ll be fine y/n, you’re so talented im sure you’ll get a standing ovation.” chaewon joked, trying to calm your nerves. kai had greeted you at your early arrival, you saw how many seats there were, making you all the more nervous. you were set to be the third to perform. “everyone! get ready, im going to do a little intro and then you’ll perform in the given order!” kai’s dad spoke to you and the other performers. he walked through the curtain, “good evening everyone! i’m sure you’re all excited, we have a bunch of talented performers ahead of us!” you heard him greet the audience, reality setting in. the first performer went up, then the second, and before you knew it, it was your turn. the audience clapped upon your arrival, you sat in the stool in front of the microphone, guitar in your lap. the spotlights were so bright you could barely see past the tables in front of the stage, the bar was out of your sight. beomgyu and yeonjun were lost in kai’s rambling, they hadn’t even payed attention to the last two performers. you began to strum at your guitar as the audience’s claps silenced. you closed your eyes and began to sing.

there’s blood on the side of the mountain.

there’s writing all over the wall.

shadows of us are still dancing.

in every room and every hall.

beomgyu heard your voice, thinking it was in his head until yeonjun muttered, “oh shit.” he turned around and sure enough, there you were. the same black guitar, with the same blue strap.

there’s snow fallin over the city.

you thought that it would wash away.

the bitter taste of my fury.

and all of the messes you made.

beomgyu couldn’t move, all he could do was watch. he couldn’t react.

yeah you think that you got away.

but i’m in the trees, i’m in the breeze.

my footsteps on the ground.

you’ll see my face in every place, but you can’t catch me now.

“you set this up didnt you?” yeonjun asked kai bitterly, “n-no i mean yes but maybe they could talk?” kai said nervously. “are you serious kai?” yeonjun scoffed. beomgyu didn’t hear their bickering. he was too engrossed in your voice, in the lyrics. why were you here? you finished the song, the audience was silent for a few seconds before people began to stand up, clapping, and whistling. you smiled, scanning the audience until you thought you saw him. you squinted, and sure enough when you could see past the spotlight, he was sitting at the bar. shock painted over his face. your heart dropped to your stomach and you rushed behind the curtain. “y/n what’s wrong?” chaewon said as you dropped your guitar. “beomgyu.. he’s here i saw him at the bar.” you said picking up your guitar and putting it in its case. “we have to get out of here i don’t want to see him.” she nodded helping you through the backstage door that led to a hallway. she linked her arm with yours before you got to another door. you opened it and surely enough it led to the front of the bar, where beomgyu was. “shit.” you whispered rushing past the bar and out of the building, it was pouring rain. “we shouldn’t have walked here.” you said before you and chaewon began to run in the direction of your apartment. beomgyu got up, he didn’t know what came over him, but he needed to talk to you. “beomgyu don’t..” yeonjun started, holding onto his arm, beomgyu shook him off, “i need to see her.” he ran out of the bar, you and chaewon were barely visible ahead of him. yeonjun and kai weren’t short off, “beomgyu come back inside!” kai yelled, “no i’m going to talk to her!” the rain had soaked them, clothes sticking to their bodies. beomgyu lost sight of you, but he knew where your apartment was. he began to run, yeonjun and kai trailing behind him.

you reached your complex, drenched. before you could enter the lobby, “y/n!” you turned around to see a soaked beomgyu. the rain seemingly began to pour harder. yeonjun and kai rounded the corner, stopping to catch their breath. you stared at each other, mascara running down your face from a mixture of rain and tears. “why- how are you here?” yeonjun stepped toward him, “get the fuck back!” beomgyu yelled. yeonjun walked backward. “why do you care?” you shouted, gripping the handle of your guitar case. “i thought you moved to america to be some big shot!” you scoffed, “go home beomgyu.” — “no.” you stepped farther away, “go fucking home!” he stepped closer, “no not until you let me apologize!” your tears fell harder, “you called me selfish, you threw my lamp,” you stepped closer, pointer finger digging into his chest, “and i did feel selfish for a while but you know what? you’re the selfish one!” you shouted, pushing him by his chest. “i know okay? i didn’t want you to fucking leave me! i didnt want to do long distance!” chaewon came up behind you grabbing ahold of your hand, attempting to pull you toward the building. “y/n let’s go.” you went to leave, “fuck.. i love you!” you turned back around, “if you loved me you would’ve listened to me!” you stepped closer to him again, dropping your guitar case on the pavement. “i did listen to you!” you chuckled sourly, “if you listened, like really listened beomgyu, you would’ve let me explain..” — “explain what?” you grew angrier, “if you wouldn’t have snapped i would’ve been able to explain that it was a three month program! i wasn’t moving to america for fucking forever!” his eyes twitched slightly, tears finally escaping after the adrenaline held them back. “i- i’m sorry.” he said quietly. “i’m really, truly sorry.” you don’t know what you were thinking, you reached your arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. you pulled away, shocked expressions shared between the two of you. “if i forgive you-“ you started, he interrupted, “it’s gonna be hard, it’s gonna be really, really hard, but i’m willing to go through it because i want to be with you.” your arms loosened, hands now resting on the back of his neck. “do you want to come inside?”

[jessicas-pi]

Some people kill their darlings. Me, personally? I mortify my blorbos. sounds like a very interesting fic that would probably vaporize me with secondhand embarrassment easily, so im very curious about it

YEEEHAAA

Okay okay so this scene, which I have temporarily dubbed In Which Tristan Steals Half A Letter And Mandalorian Sibling Rivalries Get A Little Violent, is from the very beginning of Paint Bombs, Pixie Cuts, And Elopement, and it is only the first of MANY increasingly mortifying situations!!

---

Sabine had been so distracted, she hadn’t realized she was no longer the only person in her library.

Tristan had breezed in, settled down in her abandoned spot on the lounge, and picked up the letter from Ezra.

“Hey! That’s personal!” she snapped, jumping up and snatching it from him.

Her brother looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

Sabine stomped back over to her desk and sat down, pulling out a second sheet of paper. “It means that it’s my business, not yours.”

“As your older brother, I think it is my business. After all, you’ve been sending a concerning amount of letters to him, and you won’t let anyone else see his replies.”

“Because it’s personal,” she repeated, not bothering to explain that out of the last six letters she’d sent, he only bothered to reply to the last one, and not very nicely, either.

“Which is exactly why we’re all worried.” She hunched her shoulders and focused on writing.

She was a few paragraphs in when he spoke again. “And it looks like I was right to be worried, because this, little sister, is a pretty compromising letter.”

Sabine blinked, bewildered. “Compromising?” She turned around in her seat and let out a furious cry. That letter—it had had two pages, and Tristan must have let her only snatch the first page without her noticing, because he had the second one in his hand now. “Tristan!”

“Oh, yes, very compromising. I quote—” He held up the letter and read aloud. “It was so nice of you to use all those tender words in your last message to me—have you been writing love notes?”

What she had been writing was a horribly rude letter where she called Ezra every name she could think of, and he’d got sarcastic over it in his reply, which Tristan had to know because the next sentence of that letter was a few of those phrases quoted, but he was apparently being a very selective reader now.

So, Sabine didn’t explain, and just stood, clenching her jaw. “Give me that, and get out of my library.”

He just reclined on the lounge, grinning and kicking his feet up. “You know, I’ve had a few… ah… romantic escapades, in my time. I can be trusted with a secret. So confide in me. Exactly what sweet nothings have you been writing to your adoring Prince?”

“Give it to me and get out, Tristan!”

“Should I make some guesses?” Tristan asked, jumping to his feet to avoid the sofa pillow she hurled at him. Sabine followed him, advancing slowly, fists clenched. “I bet he sends you long letters about his earnest and eternal love, and you send him back coquettish garbage acting like you don’t understand anything he says, so he’ll say it to you again.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped, snatching at the sheet of paper that he held away from her.

“Oh, no, it happens all the time. I’ve fallen for it myself. I still have the letters I got from my old sweetheart when I was your age, if you need proof. Or reference materials for the next time you write—I’m sure the little minx wouldn’t mind you borrowing a few of her shameless hints for your own flirtation.”

“It’s not a flirtation!”

“My bad,” Tristan sang, dodging around a chair so it was between the two of them, and moving side to side in time with her to keep it that way. “But in my defense, I had no idea you and he were serious.”

“We’re not!”

“When did you two first get an understanding?”

“We don’t have one!”

“Now that I look back—this all started last summer, when we were in Jedha, didn’t it? He must have been trying to win your heart then, and I can only assume you strung him along for weeks like the sadistic little witch you are, before you gave in.”

She cursed at him, no longer cold from the drafty walls but so warm she felt like she was crawling out of her own skin. She didn’t know if it was from the excitement of finally getting the letter, the heat of the fire, or the flustered burning in her face, and she didn’t really care.

“I may regret asking this,” Tristan said without a trace of regret, whatsoever, at all, in a million years. “But how did ol’ Prince Di’kut manage to woo you? Did he act gallant and noble and play at courting you? Or was this a…” Tristan wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in to whisper, momentarily dropping his guard. “A passionate-midnight-meetings sort of affai—”

Sabine’s fist connected with his nose.

[alienssstufff]

personally i feel like qquackity is a thief of mind :p very self centered character who seems to be very aware of their own flaws but doesn't do much to really try and fix those flaws at the core(?) if that makes sense. i didnt watch dsmp so im unsure if any of this is leftover from his old character

His classpect in on dsmp was Prince of Mind so being Thief of Mind on the qsmp is not far off! I see you!

*reading* the Mind aspect unlike its counterpart the Heart aspect that concerns itself internally, Mind does so externally - this could be how they are perceived by others. It is the 'rational' thought put into a decision and the different roles they put on to respond to certain situations. I found an interesting take that a commonality Mind players share is that their actions are driven by a principle (eg: terezi and justice, right and wrong) and in this case q!Quackity's driving principle is the very concept of roles itself. The strive at first to be a father and to have a complete family, the role of a teacher, the role in the Federation, the role of being the groom at a wedding. Even if it means subjecting others to this principle - these are the different masks Quackity puts on and how he wishes everyone to perceive him.

Then there's the Thief Class which means to steal mind/ steal WITH mind, which for reasons above makes sense as he tried taking full custody of some of the egg kids and much more - even if he isn't good at it it's the thought that counts lmao. Thief is an active class (+self serving) which makes even more sense for Quackity as most of the things that he does he does to benefit himself (his image).

[ more undercut ]

Additional extra stuff I particularly like THIS analysis on Thief of Mind and a lot of what op says connects to q!Quackity's story so I recommend reading it if you're interested. Some quotes in particular I want to point out:

>"Thieves are the active half of the allocation classes, with its counterpart being the Rogue. They move their aspect from one location to another, often hoarding it for themselves. Thieves tend to be dramatic and self-righteous, so it is often difficult for them to keep friends, in spite of their charisma."

>"Prior to God-tiering, a Thief of Mind would be an extremely bewildering person to be around. Robbing others of logical reasoning and stealing their secrets out from under them, all while subtly pushing others to act in a way that benefits their ultimate plan - and maybe even making them think it was their idea to begin with!" (COUGH to the Quackity and Gegg arc)

>"However, due to the denizen’s meddling, the overly-suspicious consorts constantly overthink things, and disbelieve anyone who tries to give them directions. As such, they are always getting themselves lost. The Thief must learn to steal away their poor decision-making so they can get to their destinations - and eventually steal the knowledge of the denizen’s location." (This can be interpreted as Quackity's relationship with others and the island)

[bloodsoaked-rainbows]

Remember Me, I Ask

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo

(This was going to be for LoveLetters Week, but then I got sick sooo here it is a little late)

Prompt: Market Day Fandom: Critical Role Relationships: Fresh Cut Grass/F.R.I.D.A. Rating: G Content Warnings: Memory loss Summary:

When FCG is attacked by a strange monster, he begins to act in an unusual manner — almost as though he does not recognize those he loves. It is up to FRIDA to try to break the curse and bring back the memories of their beloved partner.

Read on AO3, or Beneath the Cut! :D

It was in the first few hours of morning when FRIDA heard the scream. 

They immediately spun around to look at their companions, who, up until the interruption, had been sleeping soundly behind them. Their friends were now looking around, groggy and confused — but FRIDA wasn’t confused. They knew exactly what they were looking for, and when he wasn’t there, they began to sprint down the pathway out of the cavern.

Bell’s Hells (or this half, at least) had been camping at the back of a small cave. They were on their way back to Uthodurn after a short galavant through the wilderness, and had stopped in this nearby shelter for the night. 

But FRIDA wasn’t thinking about all that. They were thinking about FCG and the scream. The automaton had said they were going out for a short walk and needed to be away from other people to commune with the Changebringer, and FRIDA had let him, but evidently, something had gone terribly wrong.

FRIDA scanned the surrounding tundra, their ocular sensors as sharp as an eagle’s eyes, trying to locate their beloved companion. 

There. A little way down the hill, there was a commotion. FRIDA swiftly shifted their hand into the Blunderbuss and fired at some kind of giant beast on the ground beneath them.

There was a piercing screech, and suddenly a large, winged thing lifted off of the ground and flapped away, leaving a small figure motionless on the snow below. 

FRIDA recognized it as the mutated bat-like creature they had seen from the Savalirwood, and suddenly their power core felt like ice. They bolted down the hill as fast as their metallic legs could take them and soon slid down beside the unconscious body of Fresh Cut Grass, face down in the snow. 

FRIDA immediately turned his body over and began to mutter a magical incantation under their breath. Warm healing magic flowed through their hand and into their fellow robot as they caressed his cheek with the back of their hand. 

After a moment, FCG’s ocular receptors fluttered to life, their lights coming back on, and FRIDA breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank goodness you’re alive,” they said, hugging FCG gently.

Fresh Cut Grass, however, held incredibly still, and FRIDA would have worried they were still unconscious, if they couldn’t feel the faint whirring of fans from inside of them. 

“Are you alright, babe?” they asked, looking at their companion with concern. 

FCG didn’t reply, but slowly got to his proverbial feet and wheeled out of the hug. 

This made FRIDA especially worried. “What’s wrong?”

They blinked at FRIDA a few times, before turning around and beginning to roll off into the tundra.

FRIDA was bewildered, and very concerned. This didn’t seem like FCG, and unless he had had some disturbing revelation or learned something from the Changebringer while he’d been out, they couldn’t think why he’d be acting like this. 

FRIDA hurried after them, before catching up and putting a hand on their shoulder.

“Hey,” they said gently. “Are you okay? What’d that monster do to you?”

FCG looked down at FRIDA’s hand in confusion, and jerked away. “Get your hands off of me!”

FRIDA froze in shock. They had never seen FCG in a mood like this — stressed, sure, afraid, definitely, but never angry . 

The only times they’d seen him be defensive were at enemies, people who were harming his friends — but even then, the Aeormaton had wanted to make friends with Umadara, even after it had nearly killed the king and queen. 

FRIDA immediately felt worried. Maybe FCG had been too stressed lately, and FRIDA should have noticed and helped him. Maybe they didn’t get enough sleep because of the pair’s late-night conversations and were feeling grumpy. They felt guilty for this, whatever it was. 

Maybe... maybe they’re mad at me, FRIDA found themself thinking. 

But about what? They couldn’t think of anything they’d done recently that might have distressed or annoyed him, and he’d seemed completely fine yesterday and last night. But it didn’t matter why they were mad at FRIDA. All that mattered was resolving it, and apologizing.

“If I made you upset for any reason,” FRIDA said earnestly, “I’m very sorry, and would love to know what it was and how I could do better.”

FCG didn’t turn back and kept making his way away from FRIDA as he exclaimed, “Nobody wants to be randomly touched by a stranger!”

FRIDA felt like their systems were malfunctioning. “Wh-what?”

“I don’t even know you!” they said, turning around to glare at FRIDA. “Of course I’m unnerved!”

“You don’t- what ?!” FRIDA repeated, feeling like a broken record. 

FCG rolled his ocular receptors and turned around. FRIDA could just manage to hear them mutter, “Ugh. Weirdo.”

By this point, FRIDA was certain that something was off. FCG would never act like this — pretending they didn’t know FRIDA? That sounded like something Chetney would do, but not Fresh Cut Grass.

FRIDA must have been extremely concerned, because they didn’t even notice Deanna coming up beside them until she spoke. 

“Hey,” she said. “Is FCG okay?” Then she looked up at FRIDA’s face, and worry filled her voice. “What happened?”

FRIDA watched as their dear friend wheeled away into the abandoned snowy landscape. 

“Something’s wrong with Faithful Care-Giver,” they said.

---

Back in Uthodurn, FRIDA examined the ginger.

After meeting up with the group, they all discovered that FCG had some kind of amnesia, as he acted like he didn’t remember or recognize any of the party. They figured that it had been caused by the monster that had attacked the small automaton, and decided to head back to the underground city for safety. 

Everybody wanted to find a way to get FCG back to normal, and it seemed like the Vellum Steeple was a good place to look for info on curses and magic. The party had all agreed that while they were off researching, FCG should go out with FRIDA in hopes of jogging their memory. 

So there they were, out in the market, joyous laughter and the busy bustle of shoppers surrounding them as they tried to restore their boyfriend’s memory. 

“You love baking,” FRIDA explained, picking out a few pieces of ginger that looked healthy and paying the shopkeep. They had only just managed to convince FCG that he had amnesia, and were now searching around the market for things he loved. 

“Hmm,” FCG said, taking the ginger and looking at it rather confusedly. “But I can’t eat.”

“You love making it for your friends,” FRIDA said. 

“Oh.” They pointed to the makeshift drawer in their torso. “Is that what this is for?”

FRIDA nodded.

FCG didn’t look convinced, but put the ginger in the pocket of his hoodie, and the two of them carried on. 

“You also love a deity,” FRIDA said as they walked. “The Changebringer.” They pointed to the insignia recently implanted in FCG’s chest. “That’s her coin.”

“Huh,” FCG said, brushing the coin with their metallic fingers. “Are they a nice god?”

“You always said she was,” FRIDA said, burying the impulse inside them to say that no god could be nice. Now was not the time for ethics. All that mattered was getting FCG’s memory back. 

“That’s good, I suppose,” FCG said. 

They continued to walk for a bit.

FRIDA tried to think of more things that could spark their companion’s memory.

“This is your laugh,” they said finally, before playing back one of their many recordings of FCG’s laughter. It was clear, happy, and beautiful. Every time FRIDA heard it, it warmed their core, and they knew what it felt like to be in love. 

FCG listened, head tilted a little in the most adorable way possible. “Do you record people’s laughs, then?”

“Yes, many of them,” FRIDA said. “Yours is very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” FCG said, a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

FRIDA headed over to a stall that sold pickles and began to look at them, trying to figure out which ones looked the best. Even in a minor crisis, the humanoids needed food, and Deanna had given them a shopping list before they left.

After finding what appeared to be the best jar, they headed over to the shopkeeper, but stopped when there was a little tug at their coat. 

“Uh, FRIDA, was it?” FCG said, looking up at them. 

“Yes?” FRIDA asked.

“How long have we known each other?” 

“A couple of weeks,” FRIDA said, hope budding within them.

But all that FCG said was “Oh.”

FRIDA could almost hear disappointment in his voice, but the Aeormaton didn’t say anything else.

FRIDA purchased the pickles, and they continued on their way through the market. 

They made their way in silence for a while, buying a few things from Deanna’s shopping list occasionally. 

A flash of color caught FRIDA’s attention just as they were going to leave the market. It was a jeweler's stall.

They jogged over to it and asked the nice lady running it for a handful of rubies. After paying for them, they jogged back to where they left FCG and presented them to him. 

“What am I supposed to do with these?” they asked, as FRIDA deposited a few of them in their hand.

“They’re treats,” FRIDA explained. “For my favorite Aeormaton.”

FCG hesitated for a moment before biting into one. He chewed slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.

FRIDA watched nervously, wondering how they would react.

After a moment FCG turned to them. 

“FRIDA?” he asked nervously. “Are we in love?”

“Yes!” FRIDA exclaimed, before embracing them.

As they hugged him tightly, they noticed FCG’s eyes widen and glow brighter. 

“FRIDA!” they exclaimed, before kissing them.

Metal brushed against metal as they held the kiss, and they intertwined their fingers with his, reveling in the touch of their beloved. Some of the market-going crowd nearby stopped to gawk at the odd couple, but FRIDA didn’t care. 

“You’re back,” FRIDA sighed gratefully, leaning their forehead against FCG’s.

“You know I’ll never leave you,” FCG said, looking up at FRIDA with their beautiful eyes. 

“And I’ll never leave you,” FRIDA said, before kissing him again.

[oinkgoesthecat]

I've decided to type out a rant as if I'm talking to Sheik. Enjoy this dramatic reading where I imagine he's just watching me pace bewildered and mildly amused and maybe a little concerned.

I'm so good damned frustrated! I don't even know how to put it into words honestly. I've spent so long thinking about this moment but the moment I have it my first instinct is to push it away and smile and giggle pretend everything is fine because that's always I always do! I'm not allowed to not be fine! I never have been! If I'm not fine then it's somehow my fault. I'm not allowed to be upset because 15 years of my narcissistic stepmother taught me that it's my fault for being upset about things. And if I point out that I am upset she was allowed to point out all the ways I'm a failure and maybe I need a medication increase! Medication I didn't even need because I was so horribly misdiagnosed! I wasn't a bad kid I was just an autistic teenager! But I want to learn to be upset! I want to express that I'm unhappy with how someone is treating me! But I can't! And you! When I tried expressing I was upset you visibly shut down and left! I just wanted to explain why I was upset! I just wanted to hear you say you understand and that my upsetness was valid! If you had given me a few more minutes I would have been okay. I was panicked a little by how much information you revealed because I tend to be intensely private. Just because I'm insanely honest with you doesn't mean I'm honest with anyone else! I have 2 people in my life that know some semblance of what going on with me and it's kind of killing me, which is wild because I'm so used to be secrets wrapped in more secrets. But this one, this plan to leave, is killing me. I know I can't say anything until I have few more things in place but I'm dying a little inside pretending everything is fine. You expected honestly from me and now thats all I want! Which isn't fair because Im not convinced I get it from you. I don't know what I have to do to convince you that I fucking care about you, and actually want to know what you're thinking! I barely know how to interact with you half the time! You don't follow any of scripts and you're so hard to read! Every text I send feels risky because I'm not sure how you will react! You don't follow any of my flow charts of conversation and it's frustrating. Because I don'thave social skills, I don't know how to interact with people. But none of my little tricks to pretend I do work with you. I don't know who you want me to be. You're so hot and cold. One moment you're telling me how have to protect me and kissing me and I have to admit really liked when you kissed me and keep thinking about way too fucking often. And the next your leaving with a cryptic message about taking solace in the fact its not my fault. I have no idea what any of it means anymore. No matter whatever the fuck is happening at this point I know you are my friend. I want you to be my friend. I'm doing the hardest thing I have ever done and Im about to loose so much. I desperately need my friends. Please don't decide you don't want to be my friend because I'm too much. This rant was a lot but somehow it's not all my thoughts, just a lot of them

[opal-owl-flight]

Send more of your Back to Zero stuff pls, I’m hungry for lore 🍿

Mmmm all I got is the Aftermath stuff for now! SO UH HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS.

It involves a LOT of Mags being hurt by those who doubted him. And I mean…its founded on some legitimate concerns. Still, it stings.

Basically, Mags figures out that Meta — his boyfriend, by the way — has been rallying like half the Allies against him. Making them believe that hes turned evil, that the entire possession thing was a big scheme of his to sieze control over Popstar.

So its already bad that people got behind him. That means they never trusted him completely to begin with. And like…here? Its been a decade and a half (or more) since RTDL. Magolor’s become a completely different guy (after several other arcs Ive written up on THAT I SHOULD SERIOUSLY POST HERE). This includes…the Popstar Four, save Kirby bc he saw the whole possession happen. The fellows he worked so hard to change for. And its all because of-

Meta. The one he loves so, so deeply, so genuinely, by this point in time. He loved him so much that he pushed himself to change and grow. Become better. He…admittedly still needs work, but hes been trying his best.

Meta still does not trust him completely. Not even enough to believe that he was possessed by a force most dark. He was so bewildered, so pained by all this that his first instinct was to jump back behind his walls. Start analyzing his actions. Make up this…illusion. Mags wanted this to happen. Hes behind all this. Hes taking over Dreamland again because hes always been a villain at heart. And hes been a fool to fall in love with him! Let his guard down! But its all good. He is going to lock up all his feelings of betrayal and save his home. Dreamland comes first.

I guess he doesnt want to imagine Magolor in that kind of pain again. He does not like imagining him in pain. That is going to get in the way of his mission. So what does he do? Apparently, something even worse than whats already happened, and completely betray his love. Meta, you dumbfuck. Youre hurting yourself and Magolor.

Theres stuff about Bandee and Dedede too but Im still writing abt that KWJKSKS

[thomas-the-tank-engene]

the little green monster

pairing: sunghoon x (f)reader, enhypen x (f)reader platonic

genre: flufffffff

wc: 1.1k

warnings: none i think unless jealousy concerns you

a/n: this year is going too fast im hecka scared about next year i dont want to grow up :( ahahahahahahahha im struggling :/

summary: Sunghoon isn’t quite sure what this feeling is when he sees y/n laughing with his members

Sunghoon will never admit that he gets jealous. Jealousy was for insecure individuals who had nothing better to do other than berate themselves and blame it on others. And that certainly was not him. He was Park Sunghoon, the ice prince, model, idol, MC. He had won countless awards with his members and even individually before he had joined Enhypen through his skills as an ice skater. He wasn’t insecure.

But then what was this feeling? 

What was the reason behind the swirling in his stomach as he watched you speak to his hyung? Eyes sparkling with innocence and lips as pink as a summer rose. Sitting a little too close to the eldest Enhypen member for Sunghoon’s liking.

Maybe he was just hungry? That was it. He was not jealous.

The boy abruptly got up from the couch, walking to the kitchen and leaving behind his best friends who sat chatting, unaware of the thoughts brewing in his head.

“Sunghoon, where are you going?” The girl suddenly called, causing all conversation to stop as the attention was drawn to the boy standing in the doorway. His heart clenched as he slowly turned around. Eyes meeting the soft ones of the younger girl’s. Her face was a picture of concern as she stared into his eyes, making his knees go weak.

“I’m just getting a snack, quite hungry.” He replied, hoping that the excuse would work. Rubbing his stomach for a form of emphasis.

“But we just ate lunch?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

“Yah, Sunghoon hyung is turning into Sunoo hyung with his addiction to snacks!” Ni-ki is soon hit with a pillow by Sunoo, who yells at the insult.

Chaos rapidly ensues as a pillow fight begins. A bittersweet smile forms on Sunghoon’s face as he watches the girl giggle as Jake tickles her.

The boy turns, heading into the kitchen. 

He tries to eat something, but everything tastes like cardboard and his stomach gurgles in protest.

What was wrong with him? 

He looks down at his stomach with a bewildered expression. The sound of her laugh fills his ears, and the feeling gets worse hearing her joyful scream, “Jake stop it! It tickles please!”

Sunghoon was not jealous. At least that’s what he told himself.

Maybe he was sick. That would explain it. He just had a stomach bug. Yes, that makes sense. 

The boy makes his way to his room, flopping down, trying to block out the sounds of laughter coming from the lounge. 

Sunghoon made a continuous effort to eat healthy and exercise regularly. Yes, sometimes he was overworked, but he always got at least six hours of sleep. So how could he be sick? He washed his hands all the time, hating when Ni-ki had gotten half the items in their dorm sticky with who knows what.

What was happening to him?

The calm, composed and sophisticated ‘ice prince’ was struggling to think straight, and he didn’t know why.

The boy got out his phone, clicking on google.

J e a l o u s y...

jealousy generally refers to the thoughts or feelings of insecurity, fear, and concern over a relative lack of possessions or safety. Jealousy can consist of one or more emotions such as anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness or disgust.

Well first things first, Sunghoon was not insecure. He wasn’t concerned for his safety. Was he angry? The tight clench of his jaw and fist would suggest so. But at what?

Who did he resent? His members? But why?

Sunghoon groaned, throwing his phone away from him and covering his eyes with his arm.

The boy turned, screaming into his pillow to let out some of his frustration.

“Are you okay?” He quickly sat up and turned to see Y/N standing in the doorway. Hands behind her back as she cautiously glanced at him. Fighting a smile as the boy glanced away bashfully. Oh how his heart was melting.

“Yeah-yeah, I’m fine.” The boy replied, not being able to understand this new feeling that was taking over. He wasn’t good with feelings.

She slowly made her way over to him, sitting on the bed beside him.

“You look a little red,” She stated, placing the back of her hand gently against his forehead. He definitely wasn’t blushing. He was just tired.

“I think I’m just a little tired, or sick, or hungry.” He responded, causing the girl to smile slightly and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N! We’re gonna play Mario Kart if you want to join!” Jungwon stood in the door, looking expectantly at the girl.

Sunghoon felt that horrible feeling in his stomach again.  

The girl glanced between both boys, and Sunghoon felt his heart leapt into his throat when she shook her head. Hair bouncing a little.

She smiled politely at the younger boy.

“I’ll stay with Sunghoon for now, we might join you later though.”

He nodded, sending an odd look at his hyung before turning and shutting the door.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” She questioned expectantly.

“I don’t know,” He simply responds. Shrugging his shoulders sheepishly.

She moves to rest her back against the wall, and then proceeds to pat her lap. The boy is quick to lay his head down, letting Y/N run her fingers through his hair.

Peace and comfort and all the good feelings a person can feel flood his system.

“Tell me what’s wrong hoonie,” His heart flips.

“My stomach feels weird,” 

“What do you mean?” She asks while continuing to run her fingers through his hair, causing the boy's eyes to flutter closed.

“It feels bad when I see you with Jake hyung, or Jay hyung.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Well you’re my best friend, so you should hang out with me,” He states, as if it’s the most logical thing.

“I do have other best friends too ya know?”

“But they’re not boys,” He didn’t like talking about his feelings. He knew where it would lead to.

“Im friends with Ni-ki,”

“Yes but he is too young,”

“Too young for what?” Y/N prompts, wanting him to say it aloud. The girl stops the smile wanting to break free on her lips.

“To date you,” Sunghoon is fed up with this. But he can’t resist her soft touch and the gentleness of her voice as she continues to question him.

“So why does it bother you when it is Jake or Jay?”

“Because you could date them and I don’t want you to,” He finally admits out loud, so close to saying the words he didn’t want to admit to himself.

“And why don’t you want me to date them?”

Silence. Does he say it? The truth?

“I don’t know,”

She giggles softly.

“Yes you do hoonie,”

He does know.

Her eyes are drawing him in, and for some reason he keeps looking down at her lips. He wonders what they would feel like. Her smell is intoxicating and he can’t get enough.

Besides when he gets...upset...(not jealous)...Sunghoon really does love how close she is with his best friends. His family.

She fits right in. She’s the final puzzle piece that completes his life. She makes him feel whole.

He wants to hold her in his arms. He wants to hold her hand. He wants to cook meals with her and sing in the kitchen with her. He wants to do everything with her.

“Because I want to date you,”

“See!? That wasn’t so hard was it?” He sits up, turning to look in her eyes. Bad idea, because now his mind is spinning and he can’t form sentences.

“Don’t worry, I want to date you too,”

[hotch-stufff]

lil angsty but maybe where Hotch ends his relationship with reader bc of “protocol” and sadness and yearning ensures for the next few weeks, until he confesses he’s scared of not being the best man for her!! if not that’s ok💗💗💗

Protocol

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

A/n: keep sending in blurb requests, the ones I am getting are so good and I am loving the creativity!!

Blurb Weekend!!

It had been weeks. Weeks of silence, of longing glances, of trying desperately not to cry in front of him.

Weeks of him avoiding you, of him trying not to look at your sad eyes, of trying so hard to convince himself it was the right choice.

Weeks since he had broken off your relationship.

He had stated that "it was against protocol" and could ruin both of your careers. You had just stood there as he grabbed all his stuff from your apartment and walked out the door. Leaving you.

You hated it. You really hated feelings this way. 

Because the excuse was half-assed. Meaning he just probably didn't want to be with you, but didn't want to tell you that.

You sit at your desk, glancing up at his office every now and then. His brow is furrowed, his hand gripping a pen so hard it could snap. 

Emily and Morgan notice your staring from afar and begin whispering.

"We've got to so something." Emily says looking back over at your sad gaze. "Their heartbroken." 

"I dont know what happened. They seemed so happy." Morgan responds, but he stands knowing exactly who to go to to find out what happened. One Penelope Garcia. It for sure would work, as you told her every little thing.

And when they find out, they are bewildered. The reason for breaking the two of you up, was the worst one they ever heard, and they marched right up to Hotch to tell him that.

"Can i help you two?" Hotch asks as they enter his office. 

"Yeah man. You can get your head out of your ass.", Hotch looks up shocked at Morgan's words.

"Excuse me?" He says, setting his pen down and staring down the two agents.

"What Morgan is trying to say is, protocol is the stupidest excuse I have ever heard in my life. She loves you and if you don't apologize or tell her you love her. She, I don't know how much more she can take." When Emily finishes, Hotch was already standing, his hands resting on his desk.

"That is none of your concern." He barks out.

"Oh yes it is." Morgan argues back. "She, she's talking about leaving the BAU Hotch. She asked Garcia for transfer papers." This caught Aaron's attention, and before either agents could say another word, Hotch was out the door, at you desk asking to speak with you in his office.

Morgan and Prentiss scurried out as you walked in, head down.

"Is there somethin I can help you with sir?" He flinched at the name, but knows he deserves it.

"Are you leaving the BAU?" He asks and you look up shocked, but then you nod your head.

"I can't do this Aaron. Not when I am completely and utterly in love with you." You pause, wiping away a tear. "You're breaking my heart." You whispered that last part but he still hears you and he steps forward grabbing your hands.

"Sweetheart, im sorry." His voice cracks and you squeeze his hand, knowing he needs to tell you something. 

"I-I'm scared. I'm so so scared." He whispers as a tear floats down his cheek.

"Of what Aaron?" You ask, your voice soft and full of love.

"Of not being enough for you. You have so much life to live, and I'll only drag you down." He hangs his head in shame, but you take your hand and cup his face, making him look at you.

"Aaron Hotchner, you are more than enough for me." You lean a little closer, a breath away. "And you are the only person I want to spend this life with. The only person who makes me happier than I have ever been before." You press a kiss to the end of his nose and a sob releases from his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid." He mutters as tears roll down his cheeks. Your surprised by the amount fo emotion he is showing you right now, but your not complaining. "Please forgive me? Take me back, please Y/n?" He begged bringing both his hands to your face.

"Of course I will Aaron. I love you." You murmured before kissing his softly, softer than you ever have before. 

"I love you too" He says against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

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

Thanks for reading!! <3

[tsukishumai]

Fluff 40, 46, 50 for Ushijima please. Gomen ^^ I hope Im not asking for too much 😅 Have a nice day!

a/n: that awkward moment when u sent this a month and a half ago 😃 heyyyy sorry I finally got around to it 😅 I hope ya don’t mind I just did three little mini drabbles

40. Why are you scared of loving?

Ushijima should be used to your antics by now.

To this day, the two of you get the occasional unsolicited comment about how you made such an odd couple. Ushijima was quiet, stoic, serious. You were loud, playful, and fun.

Maybe it is true what they say about opposites attracting. He begrudgingly accepts that he may or may not be just the teensiest bit boring, so he appreciates all the vivacious color that you bring into his life. He didn’t realize he could find such joy in the most mundane things until he was doing them with you cracking the most ridiculous puns next to him.

So, really, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when you burst into the living room, holding your phone to your face as if you were recording a video.

“Guys, you won’t believe this,” he hears you say, and now he knows you’re recording for some social media app (he’s not sure which one, there’s so many.)

“Toshi just told me he didn’t love me anymore,” you say dramatically, pointing the camera to his face. His own bewildered expression stared back at him on the little screen, looking at you lIke you just grew two heads.

“What? When did I say that?” He said.

“Just a few minutes ago,” you pouted.

Ushijima thought hard about your recent interactions, furrowing his brow before finally realizing. “You mean, when I said we couldn’t get a puppy?”

“Exactly!” You yelled dramatically, bringing the phone back to your own face, “Why are you scared of loving?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, immediately faking a sob as you ran away from him.

Ushijima just shook his head. He should be used to your antics, by now, and still he sat there, staring after you with a big dopey smile on his face.

46. You’re hurt. Please just let it heal.

You shouldn’t be there, you know it better than anyone. But your mind was going crazy just sitting in your dorm, and you could quite literally feel the muscles in your body deteriorating.

The air felt crisp in your lungs, your breaths coming out in puffs as you stretched along the track. The swelling around your ankle has subsided substantially, and you figured a little jog would be alright.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You froze at the deep baritone voice that seemed to pierce straight to your heart. You figured getting up at the crack of dawn might have allowed you more time before he caught you, but you should have known better.

You turn around slowly to face the disappointment clearly on Ushijima’s face, the boy in question dressed only in a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats.

“Heeeyyy, Toshi,” you say sheepishly, “I was just gonna... do a little walk around the track?”

Ushijima said nothing, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

Your shoulders slumped. “Toshi, I need to get better before the Spring Tour—“

“And you think this is the way to do it?”

You pout. “It’s just a sprained ankle.”

Ushijima took a step towards you, a wave of seriousness washing over him.

“You’re hurt. Please just let it heal.”

You could feel your irritation slowly dissipate the longer he stared you down. Beneath the apparent scowl on his face, you could see the way he’s scrunched his brow, eyes filled with concern.

You sigh, slipping your hand in his before dragging him away from your bad intentions.

“Easy for a nationally ranked superstar ace to say,” you grumbled.

Ushijima smiled, removing his hand from yours only to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closely into his side.

“You should listen to me because I’m a nationally ranked super star ace.”

50. Stay.

The pattern of Ushijima’s breathing began to slowly shift into something deep and heavy, and you know he’s fallen asleep.

You weren’t exactly sure what to do in this situation. You’ve never thought to stay passed your sordid tryst, and he had never thought to extend his welcome.

You turn to look at him; his mouth hung slightly open, his features looking so relaxed, you wanted to reach out and caress him. You weren’t sure what it was about seeing Ushijima this way that made your heart bloom in its chest, and you were afraid to find out.

You slowly try to maneuver yourself out of bed, one foot nearly on the hardwood floor when you felt the arm around your waist tighten.

You snap your head back to find the previously serene Ushijima was now staring at you with one open and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Where are you going?” He muttered, his voice thick with the sleep that had just washed over him.

“Oh.. I was gonna go home—“

“Stay,” he had said, looking up at you with eyes so hopeful, you felt your breath stolen from your lungs.

Slowly, you turn back around, wrapping the covers around you, and letting yourself fall asleep in the arms of Ushijima Wakatoshi